Sweet Resolve

Don't undermine

My new resolution

Just to find

A different light, a new direction

Move on move on

Now the records skipping

I won't forget I won't forget

The way you said

Move on move on

There's no point in waiting.

~~~

"Silence! It was only a ploy to frighten you, dear children!" Dumbledore did his best to distract the students from their fright so that the respective Heads of House could cast calming charms upon the students to settle their frantic hearts.

Once the cries transfigured into pitiful sniffles and raspy big breaths, Dumbledore continued. "Now, tomorrow morning those of you who wish to will be leaving to spend time with your families. If any of you feel you would be safer or more comfortable in Hogwarts, you are more than welcome to change your plans and notify your families. Do not let this alarm you. But remember that we are indeed entering an undeniable time of war, so please heed caution wherever you go, in or out of school."

Harry sat back down into a puddle of ash and spilt juice, a muddy concoction that resembled the state of his mind. Flashbacks of a maddening dream last night lingered with the haunting memories of what he just viewed, giving birth to the connection between the two.

Voldemort killed them, killed her, drained her completely dry. He did it last night, while Harry was only suffering from a bad dream. There wasn't even a curse on him, but the Dursleys were dead.

"... Harry? I'm... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Hermione dared to speak when no one else could find their voices, all lying in a dead heap in their stomachs. For his part, Harry was surprised he still had a voice as well, but rather than show the shock and disgust that was hammering into him like nails in a coffin, he replied with a disquieting aloofness.

"For what? They were filthy muggles anyway. Completely useless bastards, honestly. Good riddance."

"Well yes, but they were still your family..."

"Family? My family? No, Granger I haven't had a family in ages. I felt nothing for them, nor will I ever." Green eyes probed chocolate brown ones, silencing them.

Harry stood and exited the Great hall, not paying any attention to Dumbledore, who looked at him sadly, or the Gryffindors who were afraid that the stone wall that just walked out might actually become Dark. Harry only focused on every step he took, as it peeled him further and further away from the sight that beheld a threatening message in such a disgusting method.

Well-lit hallways, carrying the frosty joy of a winter holiday outside, eventually transformed into windswept corridors, and freezing stairwells, until Harry could walk no further.

A door was all that lay before him now, and numb hands delicately grasped the handle, to reveal a stark room at the top of the North Tower.

Nothing but cobwebs and stone walls. A hollow vacuum in an otherwise castle of vitality. Was Harry simply standing in a forgotten tower, or had he been destined to stumble upon this reflection of himself versus his schoolmates?

Despite his shivers, Harry treaded toward the large window across from him.

Gusts of wind smashed into his face, and for the first time Harry allowed the blasts to break his defenses, and wither away the cold exterior he had held on to for his own sanity.

Now he was alone, no prying eyes, no probing thoughts, and no pitying and fearful sighs.

Just him.

And the wind.

~~~

Where did he go?? Where the hell is he? Draco had gracefully extricated himself from the blubbering masses of the Great Hall and was searching all over the castle for that distinctive mop of black hair.

Concern ached in his bones as Draco wandered in vain to find Harry. He, along with a select few students of all Houses, had been especially frightened, and in his case worried, by the sight of the inky beast of flight. However, he had hardly expected a Visual Documenter, and by careful examination, neither did any other student, Death Eater, or otherwise.

Even Snape looked stunned, but Dumbledore... he didn't have surprise anywhere on his somber face. The bastard probably knew somehow, knew and didn't bother to prepare Harry, didn't bother to take into account that the boy was killing his soul to prepare himself for war. And for what reason! Why should Harry have to fight at all?? Dumbledore should have protected him and anyone who mattered... and clearly that muggle family was important somehow.

Having lost all hope of finding the boy, and crumbling inside that he wouldn't get to talk to him before he left tonight, Draco stormed out of the castle entrance and stood on the front stairs, staring wildly into oblivion, searching for an answer...

But for what question? There were so many, after all.

"You haven't given up yet, have you?"

Startled, Draco spun around, wand pointing out into the chest of the fool who dared to sneak up on him. Looking up, Draco silently muttered that it was a bloody fool indeed. He did not lower his wand, but instead, stared defiantly into the oddly smiling blue eyes that twinkled, irritating him more.

"What the hell was that?!? And how could you let Potter see it unprepared! Have you no clue, no idea what this will do to him?!"

The Headmaster nodded his head ever so slightly. Somewhere in the distance a sharp howl entered the winds and traversed the landscapes above and beyond Hogwarts.

"I'm fully aware of the weight of this new knowledge, and had hoped to tell Harry myself. I have made many mistakes in my time, Draco, and today it was to not make haste when needed." Draco would not give in so easily, and though he lowered his wand, he did not lower his fury, because this man had so much explaining to do and someone had to call him on it.

"I take it you were going to tell him. Splendid news. But who is he to you but a weapon, a tool?"

The twinkle burst into a blaze of blue glorious fire. "Harry is nor ever will be a tool in my eyes. Ever. Mind yourself, young Malfoy, for there are still matters you are not fully aware of. If I could tell him to stop, don't you think I would? It cannot be stopped now. Neither one can be stopped. Voldemort wants Harry, so Harry must face war."

"Face war? Fine, Harry must face war! We all must, and we all will! Are you going to do as shoddy a job protecting the rest of the involved students as you have him?"

The howling of the wind was joined by a long-suffering sigh, belying years of wisdom, and aging. How many years were left in this raggedy body? "Draco, I have always done my best for all my students. And will continue to do so. Now I think you have a task at hand, and since I have done a horrible job today in watching over one of my own, it is time for you to find him and lift him back off the ground."

Draco knew the conversation had ended, and gave in. "I don't know where he is."

"A trivial obstacle. If all else fails, look to the gods for guidance." And with that, the Headmaster entered the castle once more.

~~~

Teenagers were odd creatures. Especially during a time of war, and on the brink of the winter holidays, not to mention after witnessing the message a certain Boy-Who-Lived received from the evilest sorcerer on the planet.

But could these events really explain why a group of Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors were marching toward the kitchens with staunch determination? Especially after having lunch, albeit a rather queasy meal it was?

Draco did not think so.

And did his eyes deceive him, or was that Loony Luna character actually talking to Goyle?! If Draco had the time, he would have halted right there and tried to make some sense of the situation... his hefty roommate, actually... talking... in full sentences (well mostly full), with the kookiest, oddest...

I don't even want to think about it. Nope. Not going to... Focus. Focus. Focus. Damn, this school is a haven for complete nutters. Aside from myself, of course.

Nevermind that he was making his way to the more deserted part of the castle, where the North Tower resided.

Dumbledore's advice wasn't completely off the wall, after all. In a sigh of exasperation when the Headmaster departed, Draco threw his head back and arms up to curse the Gods above that put him in this situation in the first place.

"I don't want to deal with these people! I don't want to face a war! I just want-" During his mini tirade, Draco caught sight of a still figure, a statue by the looks of it, protruding from a window far to his left. But never before did a statue jut out, and then retreat back in.

Never before.... Potter!

Despite the wind blowing his hair across his face, trying to blind him and keep him from targeting his goal, Draco ascertained without a doubt that that was the North Tower- better known as the Bleak Peak. Empty, desolate, unused... and in direct line with the incoming winds of from the mountains.

But of course, the perfect place for desperation.

After all the time that quickly slipped through his agile fingers, Draco suddenly "knew" that time was slowing, giving him as much chance as possible to ensure Potter's sanity. Within minutes he was at the base of the tower, and seconds later he had thrown the door open.

"Potter! Get away from there! Are you mad??"

~~~

Pouring his heart out into the rampaging onslaught of madness outside didn't grant Harry complete release. He cried and screamed, beckoning God, Merlin, Zeus, and every other celestial being in between to strike him down, or give him reason to go on. His most hated, Most Hated, relatives were dead at his expense.

"Do you hear me? They are dead! They won't return! They have gone to join the ranks of my parents, and my godfather, and Cedric, and all the other poor people who suffered... have suffered... FOR WHAT! For me??" Incredulity took hold of Harry, grasping his shoulders and shaking him violently, invoking raspy maniacal laughter and salty tears to pour from his face.

The wind picked up, he could see it trying to rip out the trees of the Forbidden Forest, detach them from their roots, their homes, and toss them into the upheaval that is chaos. Harry stood, planted at the base of the window, chest heaving with every new surge of power that strengthened the windstorm.

"Will you take me up, take me to the heavens, where my parents, my entire livelihood is? You'll do it to the ancient trees, so do it for me! I don't want to be here anymore! Voldemort wins, all right! Just take me away!" Trembling foot followed trembling foot, climbing on the ledge, peering out into the great beyond.

Eternity lay at his feet; a sudden gush of air was all that was needed. He could feel it coming, something was coming, something monumental, significant, his sign, his moment, and his time had finally come!

He hadn't even heard the words, so it didn't register in his troubled mind that the moment was proof for him to live, not run free forever.

He hadn't heard the yells, trying to awaken his senses, which had been numbed by the afternoon's events and the wind together.

He had only felt the blast of wind.

Pushing him backwards.

"No, what - what are you doing! This wasn't-"

"This wasn't what, Potter? Don't tell me you actually wanted to die?? NO! I won't allow it. You made the mistake of involving a Malfoy in your life. We never just cease and desist." Harry fumbled out of the grasp that had clung to him as he fell from the window into the room. He struggled to maintain his dignity and his pride, his indifference and his strength, but seeing and hearing that it was Malfoy, Malfoy had come to ... to help him? It was Malfoy...

And since Harry was feeling entirely numb, he didn't feel the jolts of pain that shot through him when he collapsed to the ground onto his knees, barely being saved from cracking his head as Malfoy conjured a pillow just in time.

"Harry Harry Harry... Are you mad? You could get pneumonia, you know." Draco created a temporary shield from the window, although the wind seemed to be dying down just a little, and he simultaneously cast warming charms all around them.

Lying there, as lifeless as the bloodless aunt he had begun to slowly respect, Harry only mumbled, but it was enough for Draco to know that he was conscious.

"They're dead, Draco. That's all there was, all that was left, and even they are gone..."

The Ice Prince couldn't bear to see his partner freezing, so he conjured up a blanket as well. The warmth from all around was starting to have an effect though, since his dulled green eyes were showing signs of glimmer. Barely.

"I know they must have meant a lot to you... I'm sorry. I know that's not enough but..."

"You don't understand. I hated them. They were complete utter jerks. Hated magic. But... they shouldn't have died." Draco had no response to this. He wasn't completely aware of what Harry's upbringing was like, not until this moment at least. "I loathed them, and he still killed them. So what's to stop him from killing everyone else? I could loathe the world, and he would still kill them all..."

"Harry, I don't understand why you are taking it upon yourself to take him down though? Surely Dumbledore is good for something."

Tremors of a bitter chuckle invaded Harry's body, reminding him what his life was about, and the boy sat up, bleary eyed but regaining his composure.

"Dumbledore is good for keeping information away until it is proven useless for him to bother to share." Draco couldn't help but agree with this statement; the Headmaster seemed to prove that today. And I don't even mean today, Draco, if you can believe it."

"I can." But Draco had another question he NEEDED to have answered; it would put many restless nights to sleep then. "But why you?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, as if stunned by the genuineness of the question. He truly was, because no one ever asked him that before. They assumed Voldemort wanted him dead because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, but they never stopped to think why he had been chosen for that role in the first place.

But is that what Draco wanted to know?

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you have to be the one to destroy him? Why is he after you? No offense Potter, but what's so special about you?" Inwardly Draco battled to hold his tongue rather than answer his own question. You're an amazing wizard, you fought off those Dark Art Spells with a snap, you have the greenest eyes on earth, you have so much strength, and a love and compassion for this world that I would have tossed into the wind years ago...

But Harry had an entirely different and equally distressing answer, not for its intimate take on him, but for his unwritten destiny.

"Because... Trelawney is a fucking bastard who ruined my life. That's why." Harry wondered if that would be a good enough answer. Clearly the crossed arms, frustrated smirk, and arched eyebrow indicated otherwise.

"Ahhh... I haven't.. I haven't talked to anyone about this. Ever."

"There's no need to remind me how special I am, Potter, just let it out."

This provoked a laugh. "Hehe, ok. Right... well, years ago, Trelawney delivered a prophecy..."

And in the moments that followed, Harry finally felt the relief he had longingly desired all afternoon.

~~~

"You're right. Trelawney IS a fucking bastard."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well... I'm agreeing with you for once Potter. Crazier things have never happened."

"Too true that is."

"Dumbledore is a pompous jerk as well, keeping this from you for so long...." Harry didn't have an answer for that, as similar sentiments occasionally trembled through his mind as well.

They sat in amicable silence, while the sun began to set somewhere behind the hills, releasing its soft glow onto the world below. Draco was stunned. He had always assumed Harry just wanted vengeance and was a lot more driven to madness than typical kids, but this... this was incomprehensible.

"And no one else knows?"

"Only you, Trelawney, and Dumbledore... and anyone else he chose to tell during all these years, except for me." Harry still seethed sometimes at the realization that Sirius... he could be alive today, had Harry only known.

But then that line of thinking never got him anywhere, and his own impulsiveness was at fault as well.

It was an unspoken agreement that Draco would not speak of this to anyone, and Harry had to stop and wonder why he even told the young Malfoy protégé, especially hours before he had to rurn home, to his monster of a father.

"What time do you have to go?" Draco returned from where he was lost in thought, glancing at his watch.

"The portkey activates at 8 o'clock sharp. So a few more hours." Draco never dreaded going home more than he did at this moment. Harry had spared him many details, but he remembered why his father was placed in Azkaban in the first place, and now understood how directly related to Harry that capture was.

Harry eyed him, understanding that look, and knowing what thoughts the blonde's mind was retreating towards. "I'm not sorry he was imprisoned. I'm just disappointed he broke free." Draco had no response; he just stood, and offered his hand for the rather ragged looking boy beneath him to stand.

Now face-to-face, Draco allowed his guard to firmly come back into place, before heading towards the door. "No Slytherins are staying over. But that doesn't mean there won't be spies."

Harry nodded in agreement, still taken aback at how willing Malfoy was becoming at outright advising him or helping him. It was a crazy world indeed. And, especially after today, he intended to experience it all.

"You shouldn't trust me, Potter." A startling comment that seemed to strike right into Harry's heart.

"Who said I did?"

"Why else would you tell me this?"

"You were the first to actually ask, believe it or not. And it changes nothing. I'm going to kill Voldemort. Simple as that." The warming spells died long ago, but suddenly it became hot in the little attic of the tower, and Harry wondered how a little statement like that could make the fire within him burst into a raging star. He saw the hand turn the knob, the door swing open, and something about the sight of bright windswept hair flying through the doorway made him call out.

"Why did you come today? What's ... What's in it for you?"

Draco popped his head back in, long enough to say with a smirk, "Harry, Harry, we both want our lives back. Isn't that enough...? Have a good break."

The emptiness of the room frightened Harry, and he turned to the window, where freedom lay, just a leap away.

"It really is enough. For now, at least."

A rejuvenated spirit strode down the stairwell of the North Tower, which was left in solitude once more.

~~~

Snow blanketed the grounds, untouched, unmarred, like a new piece of parchment waiting for its artist to carve the works of nature all over it. The only sign of life was a trail of footprints, heading towards the frozen lake, ending at the dock, where a young boy sat, book by his side, staring at the great ice spectacle that was the lake.

How do the fish manage, being stuck down there, with not even the option of seeing the sun, breaking the surface, finding some escape?

Harry stared at the glistening surface, feeling like a trapped fish himself. But the sun wouldn't eventually melt his ice barricade. Only he could do that, when Voldemort died. Even then, Harry knew his life would forever be trapped under the ice, or in a fishbowl, for all to see and question and gawk at.

He lied back into the snow, musing that it would take more than a snow angel to protect him when the time came. A yawn crept up and swallowed him whole, stifling any more somber and pensive thoughts and leading him into a dream world where things were simpler, even if more enigmatic.

He hadn't dreamed the night before. At 8 o'clock he knew Draco had left, venturing into the hands of his misguided fool of a father. Soon after, the flurry of the day's events finally snuck up behind him and smacked him hard, leaving Harry on the brink of complete and utter exhaustion. He had stumbled and found his way to the hospital wing, passing questioning stares and pitied looks, never reacting to the offers to help him to his destination or the whispered comments that he was going mad. All Harry had wanted, needed, was to spend a lovely night with the Dreamless Sleep potion, and wake up without the bombardment of nightmares.

So, unlike the previous night, Harry fell into an unguarded slumber outside in the unmarred snow, the vibrant sun blanketing him with enough warmth on the cool day. His subconscious awakened and wandered down a winding path into the mountains, desolate, dry, and cold. He dimly wondered why he wasn't working on tearing down that infernal wall, his fingers clenching with the fervent desire to rip something apart, but he knew that he was going somewhere important, and the spirits of the otherworlds would not lead him astray. He would return to the blockade another day, another night, in another dream.

Harry walked, and walked, his legs aching with every subsequent step. He stopped a moment to catch his breath, leaning against a tree for support and closing his eyes in a vain attempt to will the pain away. Amazingly it worked, and when Harry opened his eyes once more, he was standing in an infinitesimal field, radiant in the moonlight.

Perplexity was overpowered by contentment as Harry looked around and felt immediately at ease with his new tranquil surroundings. He turned at the sound of a bark, somewhere in the distance, so he started to wander in that direction. He had taken a few steps when a hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around.

"S-Sirius?"

There was his godfather, seemingly alive and well, smiling warmly while jovial mischief danced in his eyes. "But you're... you're dead."

"Harry, you've heard enough cheesy stories to know that the ones you love are always alive in you. Where's the common sense I thought you possessed?" A large arm wrapped around small shoulders, a guardian enveloping his child with love and comfort, and the two took a stroll through the heavenly field. "How and why I exist here isn't important though. You will come to discover through the years how many different ways people can live on. All I'm here to do right now, though, is to tell you something."

They stopped, and large gray eyes gazed longingly at the moon, an action that Harry would wonder about for many nights in the future. He, too, stared into the sky, but rather than focus on the enormous moon, his eyes absorbed the twinkling stars, a distant blue one especially.

"The truth can lie to you, Harry, if you allow it. Remember that first and foremost, your purpose is to live. Okay? You have to Live, Harry. Live."

"Wait, what? I know, I know, I intend to, Sirius. I won't let him kill me. He won't get away with it any longer."

"Harry, listen. Just remember to live your life. Don't let anyone... anyone at all... stifle it, stifle you."

Suddenly Harry was wrapped into two large arms that pulled him into the tightest hug on the planet. He could smell the earthiness of his godfather, mingled with a freeing quality that could only be attributed to his animal form. Harry absorbed years of heartache, years of excitement, sobering and liberating happiness, and chocolate.

"I didn't know you loved chocolate so much."

"Ahh... That's a newly acquired taste. Don't forget now, ok?" Sirius released him, and transformed back into his animagus form. Snuffles pounced on the young boy, large gray eyes revealing the soul of a wonderful man whose life was cut too short.

"I won't. I promise. I won't forget." The dog bounded away, fading into the horizon. "I won't forget... I won't fail you."

~~~

Eyes cracked open, blinking repeatedly. The sun fired rays down onto the glistening white land, creating a heavenly glow of perfection, which was only slightly blinding. Harry shook his head a couple times and reluctantly sat up, thinking over the bizarre "moment" he just had with his late godfather. It couldn't have been real, but it contained more insight into the wild man than Harry had ever observed before...

Maybe his mind was just focusing on forgotten details he had picked up over the past couple years. Or perhaps.. just perhaps there were some benefits to being a wizard, even in death.

What had he said after all... You will come to discover through the years how many different ways people can live on... So maybe in some warped way Harry had just seen his godfather. Now the question remained, what the hell was he talking about? Knowing he had been given yet another mystery to unravel, Harry decided it may be time to head back in before his extremities shattered into frozen bits.

"I have every intention to live, after all... So what did he mean? What did he- what the hell is that?" In the distance, echoing through the valley, a song was playing. It was... a Muggle song? Clambering up from the lake and heading towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry began to make out some of the words.

"... move on move on, it's like the clock is pacing, the break of dawn and our hearts are racing..."

"Who? How? How is there Muggle music? Where is it coming from? Why am I talking to myself?" Deciding to shut his mouth lest someone walk by and think of him as a raving lunatic, Harry stopped and spun in a few circles (Great, Harry- first talking to yourself, now spinning like a madman. What's next? Ballet?). Concluding it must be coming from somewhere near the Forest, Harry pulled out his wand, just to be safe, and wandered down there.

Black hair flew back and forth and verdant eyes scoured the snow, looking for tracks of any kind to reveal who was behind such music. Finally, up ahead he saw a trail of footprints, and broke into an excited run, never realizing that the music had slowly faded into the cool winter air.

Harry never looked up, but rather traced and followed those footprints as if the answer to all life's mysteries were being carried on the shoulders of the being that created those prints. Breaths quickened and heartbeats raced, and suddenly Harry collided with his prey, falling into the powder and peering up with startled eyes.

"Quafftain??" The gryffin appeared affronted for having been disturbed from his walk and Harry feared one of those monstrous claws would rip out his gut just to prove his indignation.

"'Arry? What are you doin' 'ere? It's getting late... Oh, you wan'ed a bit o' catchin' up with ol' Quafftain, did ya?" Hagrid, who as peering out of his window, came out and pulled Harry to his feet, practically sending the boy into space with his strength. "Haven' seen you fer a while now. Ev'rything all right?" Miraculously, Hagrid hadn't been at lunch the previous day, and either hadn't heard about the so-called incident, or had enough tact not to mention it.

"What? Oh, yeah. Just fine, Hagrid. Did you... happen to hear anything around here?" Harry asked, eyeing the gryffin questioningly.

"Why, no, no I haven't. Just ol' Quafftain here squawkin' a bit. He's getting restless, y'know. I'll try to keep him tame fer the rest o' the school year, but I think a few more months and he'll need to go back." Hagrid soothingly stroked the gryffin's eagle head and fed him some meat. Harry watched as the noble creature tore through the meat, and then sporadically yanked his head up, peering around for a second before resuming.

"Did y'see that, 'Arry? He's beginnin' to hear things, slowly becomin' instable." At the final word, Harry took a step back. He had no desire to enrage and face a crazy gryffin. What a headline that would make. Boy-Who-Lived and his House Mascot Gone Mad Hearing Strange Music. Gryffin Does what You-Know-Who could never do- Erratically kill the Boy. Hagrid noticed the step, countering with, "Ahh he won't get vicious on you, 'Arry. They be very good judges of character. He just needs more of his own around him is all."

"Oh. Well ok." As trustworthy as Hagrid was, Harry still thought it bet to be cautious around the beast. "You said he would need to go back. Where is he from? Where do gryffins live?" Harry knew someone had addressed this question back during their projects, but he couldn't be counted on to remember every single detail. Somehow he knew Draco would have that answer though, the amount of obsessive reading he had done on the subject.

"Ahh, an isolated island near the isle of Azkaban. Interesting location, really." Hagrid pulled Harry in close and told him to peer straight into the beast's eyes, and raise a hand toward him. After the Hippogriff incident three years ago, Hagrid did not allow much interaction between larger beasts and students, but he wanted Harry to bond with this special creature. Reluctantly, Harry played along, as Hagrid continued.

"Some say, and I fer one believe 'em, that the er... the strength an' noble pow'r that the gryffins possess somehow balance ou' the Dementors' horrible powers. Y'know, keepin' them in their place, so to speak. It's rare fer Dementors to leave the island withou' Min'stry approval."

The gryffin had raised his front claw upwards, a gesture of respect towards Harry, and before Harry could even become elated over that simple act, magnificent wings spread out and enveloped the young lad.

"Uhhh Hagrid, what's he doing?" Harry squirmed in confusion, not sure if he was meant to approach the bird further or just stay in place. Hagrid reach over and pushed him slightly, smiling at the interaction, and as Harry stepped forward, he could feel mists of magic swirl around him, flowing from the regal body that yearned for human caresses.

The last rays of sunlight bounced off of the beautiful mane, and Harry became hypnotized by the prismatic tail that swished back and forth, while he pondered over Hagrid's words. "I can feel his magic. It feels like it's running through his veins or something. Can they destroy Dementors?" Nothing on earth was known to actually annihilate the blasted creatures, only ward them off.

"That's a good question. I don't righ'ly know fer sure. People tend to stay away from gryffins, because they'll attack immoral and evil folks. So you don't be wantin' ev'ryone to know yer a bad seed, y'know? So I reckon they can attack Dementors... but I wish I could tell you more."

"Oh that's okay. Just curious." And he was truly that because what he was witnessing was far more fascinating at the moment. Nature's enchantment echoed throughout the valley, in the shimmering snow, rustling branches, and hollow calls of the wind. Quafftain's feathers ruffled slightly in the breeze, tendrils of magic escaping and sending tingles through Harry's fingers down to his toes. He felt so protected, and so in awe of what he was feeling, wishing it could never end.

"Ok 'Arry, it's getting' dark now. I'll walk in with you, we can get dinner."

Protests rose in Harry's throat but he did well to contain them. Because he knew there would be no winning this argument. At least with most of the students gone he could eat in relative peace, without hundreds of gapes boring into his skull.

"Goodbye Quafftain. I'll see you later." The gryffin raised his claw, bidding a respectful adieu.