In the End

Chapter 6: The Truth in Lies

When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies
Don't you want somebody to love, don't you...
Need somebody to love, wouldn't you...
Love somebody to love, you better...
Find somebody to love

~Jefferson Airplane, "Somebody to Love"

*~*~*~*

Severus stumbled up the slope from Hogsmeade towards the castle looming just beyond the hill. His skin felt like it was on fire; his nose was most certainly broken and his upper lip was split. He struggled to climb the steep incline that would take him to Hagrid's hut...he only had a few more meters to go...

Suddenly, Severus tripped and landed on his broken arm, and let out a loud cry of anguish. Tears swelled in his eyes, much to his consternation, and he bit his already bruised lip to keep from calling out again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he resigned himself to the fact that he would not be able to make it to Hagrid's cabin, at least not on his own accord. Clenching his fist around his wand, he raised a shaking arm and muttered an incantation. A bright white light resembling that of a bird shot out of Severus's wand and into Hagrid's cabin and a few moments later, the half-giant was running towards where Severus lay barely conscious on the cold, hard earth.

Bending down, Hagrid swept Severus up into his arms and carried him into the castle. Upon reaching his destination, the large man burst through the hospital doors and bellowed, "Madam Pomfrey!" The mediwitch rushed out of her chambers and, upon seeing Severus's badly beaten body, ushered Hagrid towards the back of the large room. With a gentleness usually not seen from the man, Hagrid gingerly placed the professor on the hospital bed and backed away.

"Go get Professor Dumbledore!" Madam Pomfrey ordered as she ran her wand over Severus's body, assessing his injuries.

Nodding, Hagrid silently bounded out of the room and hurried as fast as he could to the Headmaster's office. Stopping only briefly to gasp out the password, Hagrid squeezed himself into the rotating staircase and a few moments later, exploded into the office, only to find that Dumbledore was absent. Cursing, he strode over the where Fawkes was sleeping peacefully on his perch and poked the bird hard in the chest. Letting out a short trill, the beautiful phoenix blearily opened his eyes. Knowing what was going on, the bird disappeared in a brilliant flash of flames and a few agonizingly slow moments later, Professor Dumbledore emerged from a door behind his desk and followed Hagrid silently out of his office.

"He didn' even have enough strength ter get ter me cabin," said Hagrid, tears welling up in his beetle black eyes.

Dumbledore remained silent, though his heart clenched painfully. This night just never seemed to end.

Hagrid did not accompany Dumbledore into the infirmary, and instead bowed out to return to his cabin. The older man hardly noticed, however. He walked solemnly to the back of the infirmary to where a shaking Poppy was administering potions and spells to alleviate the pain Severus was experiencing.

"Put under Cruciatus at least five times, and you know how it affects his kind..." Poppy said in a trembling voice. "Several bruises and cuts upon the body, all magical in nature." The woman clenched and unclenched her fists. "Four ribs are broken, as are his right arm and nose. His left ankle is badly sprained. Severe damage to his left eye. Restorative Draughts are being administered in order to repair the damage to it. I do not know what they did, though..." Her voice trailed off and she looked fit to cry.

"Is he lucid?" asked Dumbledore, his gaze never leaving Severus's broken body.

"Hagrid said he was conscious enough to send a flare but passed out somewhere between here and his cabin.

There was a heavy pause, then...

"His pupils are sluggish and unresponsive," she added in a near whisper.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly. He then flicked out his wand and conjured a chair for him to sit in.

"Albus, what are you doing?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"I will stay here until he comes around," he replied calmly. "He deserves to see a friendly face when he awakens."

And so he stayed.

*~*~*~*

Joanna stood at a window in the infirmary, gazing out at the lake, staring at nothing and everything. She was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them centered on Severus...and what had happened the other night. It had been three days since she had accidentally helped Harry blow out all the windows in the castle, ruining half the wards, and subsequently repaired them, and it had been only two days since Severus had returned to Hogwarts after he was summoned by Voldemort. He was still unconscious.

Sighing loudly, Joanna ran a tired hand over her face and felt a fist of anguish enclose around her heart. Harry had woken up yesterday and was brooding on his bed; he refused to speak to Joanna or Dumbledore for some reason.

Joanna allowed her eyes to wander aimlessly across the grounds, then inside the hospital wing where they finally settled on Severus. True to his word, Dumbledore had not left the younger man's side, leading Joanna to ponder if the old man simply didn't need to use the loo anymore.

She watched Severus sleep, her eyes memorizing every bruise, every cut, every scar...

Suppressing a shudder, Joanna closed her eyes, only to see the image of a sleeping Severus burned into her memory. It was her fault they were in the hospital. If she hadn't been so stupid and irresponsible, none of this would have ever happened. She should have stayed in France where she belonged.

Joanna clenched her fists in frustration and wished to whatever deities existed that he would wake up, that he would be fine, that he would forgive her for lying to him...

A small sob escaped her lips, which caused her to lean against the wall and slowly slide to the floor. She felt horrible; no other words could describe her guilt. She didn't deserve to be here, she didn't deserve to live--

"Professor Kent?" Joanna started and raised her head to find Harry looking down at her, concern marring his features. "Are you all right?"

She couldn't fight it any longer. Another sob escaped her throat and before she knew what was happening, she was crying hysterically, tears pouring down her face. She scrunched herself up into a tiny ball and put her head to her knees, trying to hide her torment from Harry, from Severus, from everyone...

"Madam Pomfrey!"

Joanna vaguely recalled hearing someone call for the Mediwitch. She couldn't breathe anymore; she was hyperventilating.

"What's going on here?" She heard a shrill voice say. "Joanna? Joanna, listen to me! Look at me!"

She couldn't look; she couldn't let them see how horrible of a person she was. She almost killed everyone! She practically invited Voldemort to the doorsteps of Hogwarts!

"I'm sorry!" she cried out loudly, sobs still racking her body, her breath was shallow and sparse. She couldn't breathe...she was panicking now, losing control of her powers.

"Dumbledore, she's breaking down! She's going into shock!"

No, a small voice said, it's my fault, all my fault. Over and over again, this mantra repeated itself in her head.

"Jo! Look at me, please!" Sobbing, she refused to meet anyone's eyes. She was too ashamed; she didn't deserve to be here!

"Harry! Harry, Ron, help us here!"

"NO!" Joanna screamed when the two boys reached for her. "Don't touch me! I'll only hurt you!"

She struggled, kicked, bit--they couldn't touch her! Why didn't they understand? She only ended up hurting the ones she loved!

"Poppy! We have to get her in isolation! She can't be around people while she's in this condition!"

"GET AWAY!" Joanna shrieked, flailing against the bodies that were attempting to drag her away. "I'LL ONLY END UP KILLING YOU! I ALWAYS DO!"

"Poppy, get your strongest sedative!"

Two pairs of strong hands grasped Joanna by her arms and attempted to drag her to the back of the infirmary, but that only reminded her of her time at L'Acadamie.

"NON!" she screamed, flailing and struggling as hard as she could against the powerful hands holding her. "Allez-vous-en! Libérez-moi, s'il vous plaît! LIBEREZ-MOI, MAINTENANT!"

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"Hold her still!"

"NON! NON, ALLEZ-VOUS-EN! S'IL Vous...plaît..." Poppy removed the needle from Joanna's arm and watched as the woman drifted off to sleep, and then poured a calming draught down Joanna's throat.

Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were breathing deeply, having just dragged their Potions teacher across the hospital wing and holding her down while Madam Pomfrey forcibly poured a potion down the woman's throat. Joanna was now sleeping quietly on the lone bed in the small room at the end of the hospital wing.

"What the hell just happened?" demanded Ron once they were outside of the room.

Dumbledore gave the boys a sharp look. "You will not discuss what happened here with anybody else, do you understand?"

Ron opened his mouth to argue but was silenced by the look Dumbledore gave him. "I will tell you this," the headmaster said, "Professor Kent has a rare gift, very rare. This is an unfortunate side effect of her gift. When her magic is as drained as it is, she is unable to control her powers and she can become overwhelmed by them. Give her a few days and she'll be fine. But I urge you boys to keep this quiet."

Harry frowned and Ron gulped, but both nodded.

"Harry," he continued, "I believe Madam Pomfrey said you were free to go."

In other words, sod off, Harry thought angrily. "Yes sir," he said through clenched teeth. Of course they wouldn't tell him anything; they never told him anything, and now he, Harry, was stuck with yet another secret to keep from his friends.

Stomping over to his bed, he gathered up his belongings and practically flew out of the wing, Ron right on his heels.

"What the bloody hell is going on around here?" gasped Ron as he struggled to keep up with his very temperamental friend. "Snape's out cold in the hospital with the shite beat out of him, Kent's flown off the loony bin, Dumbledore's practically yelling--this whole place is going mad!"

Harry was barely listening. He only wanted to get back to Gryffindor Tower and tell Hermione about what had happened.

As if reading his mind, Ron said, "You're going to tell Hermione about this, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"All right, then."

Harry barreled through the portrait of the Fat Lady, marched over to the girl's staircase, and bellowed, "HERMIONE!"

A moment later, the sounds of footsteps descending the stairwell greeted the two boys, though this girl had decidedly redder hair.

"What is it? What's going on?" Ginny asked with raised eyebrows.

"Ginny, is Hermione up there?" Harry asked, ignoring her questions. A brief flash of hurt crossed her face before she answered.

"No, I think she's in the library. Why?"

"Come on," said Harry, grabbing her hand and speeding out of the Common Room, with Ron right behind them, and the trio reached the library in record time. "Where do you think she'd be?" he gasped, clutching the stitch in his side.

"In the Ancient Runes section," Ron replied at once. Harry stared at him. So did Ginny, though she was smirking. Ron could feel his ears get hot. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," said Ginny, still smirking. "Come on, I think I see her hair."

Sure enough, it was Hermione, but she wasn't alone; also sitting at the table with her were Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. Something in the back of Ginny's brain told her that that was a little suspicious.

"Hermione, Neville, Luna, do you all have some time to spare?" asked Harry, and although he asked all three, he kept his gaze locked on Hermione. She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but nodded all the same. So did Neville and Luna.

"What's going on, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head and wet his lips. "No time to explain now, but will you all follow me to the Room of Requirement? I've got something to tell you." Five heads bobbed up and down, and soon the six were on their way to the room.

Upon reaching the wall, Harry paced back and forth, imagining a cozy, comfortable room with a roaring fire and plenty of plush chairs. After his third pace, the door appeared and the group stepped into the room.

"Hermione, tell me everything you know about Joanna Kent," Harry said once everyone was settled into the chairs.

Hermione gave him a startled look before pulling a long list out of her bag. Biting her lip, she smoothed the parchment out on the table the chairs were centered around and spoke:

"Her full name is Joanna Kent. Since she's thirty-six years old, that would mean that she was born around 1960. She is extremely skilled in Occlumency and Legilimency, at about an equal level with Snape, at least according to Harry. Apparently, she'd been living in France for the past fifteen years, having left Britain due to some personal reasons. She is a Potions Master, very rare, especially given that she's a woman.

"Hmmm," said Hermione, pursing her lips, "ah, it would appear that she has the ability to sense people's emotions. She also has an unusual amount of loathing for the Malfoy family in general. She's pretty powerful, considering what happened to the windows and wards. Oh, and she has some kind of unusual relationship with Snape. Apparently, the two went out on some kind of date that last Hogsmeade weekend, the one on Halloween." Here, Hermione pulled a face. "That's how I heard about her stay in France: Terry Boot was sitting at the table over and heard everything. Otherwise, that's about all I know."

"How did you know she doesn't like the Malfoys?" Ginny asked and the same time Ron barked, "When have you been talking with Terry Boot?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and said to Ginny, "You should've seen the way Kent looked at Malfoy when we were at the prefect's meeting on the train." She turned towards Harry, saying, "No offense, but she looks at Malfoy the same way Snape looks at you. It's pretty clear that she doesn't like him, and it very well could be because of his father."

Harry nodded, his mind reeling from all this new information, and then said, "Add to that list that she's the Heir of Rowena Ravenclaw and that her real name is Ellen Lercorbo, or something like that." At this, Luna gasped, uncharacteristically surprised, whereas everyone else just stared at him.

"Erm, what are you talking about?" said Ron with an arched eyebrow.

"I heard her telling Lupin one day...actually, it was that day when the windows blew out. I was hidden underneath my invisibility cloak. But I heard her clear as day. She said 'My name is Ellen Lercorbo and I am the Heir of Rowena Ravenclaw.'"

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her flyaway hair; Ron and Neville looked quite confused; Ginny's brow was furrowed; Luna, however, was shaking her head.

"That's impossible," she said airily. "Hélène LeCorbeau is dead. She died fifteen years ago."

"I'm telling you, that's what she said!" Harry retorted hotly, his temper flaring.

"I'm confused," said Ginny, looking between Harry and Luna. "Who's Hélène LeCorbeau, why is she dead, and why is Joanna Kent claiming to be her?"

Hermione, who had since come out of her daze, was rapidly flipping through Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, frantically looking for something, and before anyone could respond to Ginny's questions, Hermione cried, "Ah ha!"

"'Ah ha' what?" said Ron.

"Hélène LeCorbeau was the birth name of Milah Joanna Kensington!" she said quickly. "According to this, she was left on the doorstep of a church in France where she was subsequently put in an orphanage--oh, that's awful. Anyway, when she was four she was adopted by Stephen and Hannah Kensington, Britons, and raised as a Muggle until she got her letter from Hogwarts. Wow, Harry, she went there the same time your parents did, except she was in Ravenclaw, of course--"

"Why is all that in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts?" Ginny interrupted.

Hermione scanned some more of the book before eliciting a loud gasp. "Of course!" she cried. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"What, Hermione?" Harry pressed.

"She's an Empath," she stated simply. Ron and Ginny guffawed loudly, whereas Luna hummed dreamily and Harry blinked.

"What's that?" he asked, feeling dumb.

"'An Empath is a witch and wizard who possesses the ability to sense and become affected by the emotions of those around them,'" recited Hermione, biting her lip. "'They can tell when someone is angry, happy, sad, frustrated, and so on. Sometimes, when an emotion is particularly strong, they will become almost bound by it.' In other words, unless they control their powers, they become erratic and unstable, or something like that. Oh...'In rare cases, should an Empath deny his or her gift, their powers will become dormant until the day the Empath decides to start practicing the craft again.'

"'There are only two Empaths, with active powers, that can exist on the planet at one time, one male, one female, with the female usually being the more powerful of the two, and they can usually do some wandless magic, though only if they're experiencing a strong emotion at the time or unless they're particularly powerful, which is very rare. They do not acquire their powers until the Empath before them dies.' Wow, that's interesting...Anyway, 'Empaths have an innate desire to protect one another and can thus sense danger and distrust among others. There is a Guardian of the Light and a Guardian of the Dark. Guardians of the Light can sense Dark magic and creatures, and can sometimes have an adverse reaction to them, especially if their âme sœur has problems with that specifically. The same is true for the Guardian of the Dark, only in reverse.'"

That would explain her gift being as rare as Dumbledore claiming it to be, Harry thought.

"What does that mean, adverse reactions?" he inquired out loud. "And what the heck is an em sir?"

"I believe it means that if the Guardian of the Dark was afraid of vampires or some other Dark creature, then the Guardian of the Light would be able to detect them in advance so that they can warn their soul mate, and vice versa, though I'm not exactly sure how that can apply to light creatures, like unicorns," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Anyway, they'd probably get all frazzled or something when he or she was around the vampire. Oh, that's what âme sœur means, Harry. It's soul mate, or kindred spirit, in French, though it doesn't necessarily mean they're, er, you know, lovers or anything," Hermione blushed. "Just that they know one another intimately--er, closely. Oh, you know what I mean!

"Oh! Oh wow..." Hermione's eyes glazed over slightly. "Well, we also now know that Kent's a pureblood."

"Why do we know that, again?" asked Ginny, a small smile playing on her lips.

"According to this," said Hermione, "only purebloods can be Empaths, though researchers have never been able to find out why, exactly. Wizards who argue for the sanctity of blood often use Empaths as an example of why Muggle-borns and half-bloods shouldn't be allowed to do magic. Oh wow...there's so much more in here about Empaths...I'll definitely be doing some research tonight."

"This is insane," said Ron, running a hand through his hair. "No wonder Kent's so powerful; she's the Heir of Ravenclaw and an Empath..."

Harry's mind was spinning. All of those things Kent--Kensington--LeCorbeau--whatever the hell her name was--had said in the infirmary had been what Harry had been thinking and feeling at the time. His guilt over Sirius, over always getting those he loved harmed, all of it was said out loud by Kent. It would certainly explain how she could feel his emotions and why her gift was so rare, as Dumbledore put it.

"So if all of this is true, then why is she supposedly dead?" asked Harry. All eyes turned towards Luna, who in turned stared right back.

"Because she was killed by Death Eaters during the first war," she said, eyes popping. "She was a prisoner at Troudemort for six months."

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione gasped whereas Harry blinked in frustration. No one bothered to ask Luna how she knew this.

"What's Troudemort?" Harry questioned, feeling especially cut off from the Wizarding world more and more each minute.

"It was a prison," Hermione said shakily, "a Death Eater prison. The only one...it was kind of like--" Hermione shuddered. "It was like a magical concentration camp. Oh my stars..."

Harry stared at her, a feel of terror in his stomach. He didn't even know what to say.

"Very few people survived after the first defeat of Voldemort," Hermione continued, casting an odd look at Luna. "Very few...When Voldemort went missing that night your, um..."

"The night my parents died," Harry said flatly.

"Yes...and when Voldemort was vanquished, the Death Eaters started killing off all the prisoners, to get rid of the evidence, I suppose," Hermione's voice trailed off and she looked pensive for a moment before speaking again. "They only kidnapped those who could be useful to their cause. They had a reason for keeping her alive for so long..."

"Who were other prisoners?" Harry asked, not noticing that Luna was wearing a sad expression.

"Well, that's the thing, Harry," said Hermione, wringing her hands, "nobody knows for sure because the Death Eaters destroyed a lot of the--the bodies. For the most part, if someone back then had disappeared, and he or she was high profile or powerful or something, it was usually assumed they went to Troudemort. However, the prison was Unplottable, so no one could ever find it afterwards, not even the former prisoners themselves hence...a majority of bodies were never recovered."

Hermione and Luna shuddered.

"So I guess her being an Empath and the descendant of Ravenclaw would make her high profile, huh?" said Harry, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Hermione, however, shook her head. "There had to be another reason, Harry, a much bigger reason why Voldemort would keep her alive," she said, frowning. "See, in the first war, Voldemort had his Death Eaters kill off the entire Hufflepuff line, the McKinnons. It's safe to say he probably wanted to get rid of all the descendants of the Founders of Hogwarts, leaving only himself, the Heir of Slytherin; therefore, we could assume he'd want her dead. However, he kept her alive for six months. The question is why."

As Hermione was saying this, a horrible realization dawned on Harry: Voldemort must have known he was related to Gryffindor. It wasn't all about the Prophecy, Harry thought, remembering his dream, but also because Gryffindor was the one who kicked Slytherin out of Hogwarts in the first place. He was getting revenge on the Potters that night.

Harry felt momentarily sick at this. Placing his face in his hands, he bowed over and stuck his head between his knees. All of a sudden, he wanted to be alone and the weight of the many secrets he was keeping from his friends was beginning to be too much to bear.

"Harry?" came Ginny's voice. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Liar," she said. Harry could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

"Harry," Hermione said tentatively, "why were you needed for that spell she did to repair the wards and windows?"

Harry's head snapped up and he looked straight into Hermione's bright brown eyes.

"Wait a minute," cut in Ginny before Harry had a chance to answer Hermione's question. "If You-Know-Who killed off the Hufflepuff line, tried to kill Ravenclaw's and is believed to have succeeded, then that still leaves one more founder: Gryffindor. Who's the descendant of Godric and Brianna Gryffindor?"

As if staged, all the heads in the room turned at once towards Harry who was sitting in the chair staring up at the ceiling and avoiding everyone's stares.

"Harry..." said Hermione slowly.

"Hmm?" he said, trying to act nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Progenia...progeny. And Leo...Oh my goodness!" Hermione cried. "Did you know, Harry?"

Sighing, he nodded his head minutely and continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Know what?" demanded Ron. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione said automatically, but did not elaborate.

"It means that you're the Heir of Gryffindor," Luna said in the closest to a matter-of-fact voice she could get. Ginny gasped again, Ron's face turned red, and Neville fell out of his seat.

"That's why you could conjure the Sword of Gryffindor!" Ginny exploded. Her eyes were wide and there was such a giant grin on her face that Harry couldn't help but grin back a little.

"Well, that explains it, doesn't it? Why You-Know-Who went after Harry and his parents?" Neville said after he had picked himself up off the floor.

Harry froze and closed his eyes. "That's not why, not really. At least, not the whole reason," he said delicately.

Everyone in the room stopped talking and looked at him. "What do you mean?" Ron asked.

Sighing, Harry rubbed his hands over his face and came to a decision: now was the time to tell them the Prophecy. They deserved to know, after all, considering everything they went through at the Department of Mysteries last June...

"Inotheprofitsee," he mumbled into his hands.

"Come again?" said Hermione.

"I know the Prophecy, the one from the Department of Mysteries," Harry muttered, avoiding her eyes. "I know what it says."

The room was quiet for a long time before Hermione spoke again. "How long have you known?"

"Since that day," he said softly, "at the Ministry of Magic." Harry half expected someone to be angry with him for not telling him sooner, but no one said a word. Instead, they just sat there and listened. He was eternally grateful all of a sudden.

"What does it say?" Neville asked quietly.

Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew it by heart; he'd been reciting it over and over again in his head all summer. But no matter how many times he said it or heard it out loud, it still came down to one thing: he would either have to kill or be killed. Mustering up all the Gryffindor courage he could, Harry recited the Prophecy to his friends:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...

A deafening silence met Harry when he finished and the reactions of the five were almost exactly like he thought they would be: Hermione and Ginny were staring at the floor, obviously thinking rapidly; Luna was staring dreamily at Harry, as usual; and Ron's hands were firmly clasped in his lap, his eyes clenched shut and his face a violent shade of red.

Neville, on the other hand, had gone extremely pale and he was staring at Harry with a look of horror in his eyes.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him?" he asked in a small voice, his hands rubbing his face. Harry nodded, biting his lip.

"Born as the seventh month dies..." Neville continued slowly. His breathing became labored and his head snapped up suddenly. "Oh Merlin, it could've been me."

Harry licked his lips and nodded slightly. Neville let out a soft moan and buried his face in his hands. "Is that why they went after my parents?" he asked from behind his hands.

"I don't know, Neville," said Harry, raking a hand through his already messy hair.

The six friends were quiet for a while, each thinking different, yet identical, thoughts while Harry just stared at the ceiling.

"Well, that settles it, then," Ginny said abruptly.

"What do you mean?" said Ron, furrowing his brow.

Ginny looked Harry square in the eye and he felt his stomach do a powerful back flip. He had never noticed how clear her eyes were before. "Harry will win, because good always wins over evil, and Harry is the most sincere, kindest, loving person I've ever known and if anyone can defeat Tom, he can."

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as he continued to look into Ginny's eyes; he saw only honesty, truth, and...something else, something he couldn't name, but he knew that she was telling the truth, that she was speaking from her heart. He clenched his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath.

"Thank you, Ginny," he said, "but I'll understand, you know...if you all don't want to--"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Ron said sharply, surprising Harry. "I dunno about the rest of you, but I will never leave your side. Ever. You're my best friend, Harry, and if you have to take on a bastard like You-Kno--like V-Voldemort, then I'm going to be there, right by your side."

Harry's eyes stung a little at Ron's vehemence and his loyalty to him. That was the first time he'd ever heard Ron say Voldemort's name, and Harry knew right then and there that Ron would never leave him. Ron wasn't some silly sidekick; he was the second-in-command, an equal, a friend. His best friend.

"I'm there, too," said Neville with an odd glint in his eyes. "You can count on me. If that means practicing every hour of every day, then so be it. I'm not going to fail you this time."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to say that Neville had never once failed him, but Luna spoke next. "I may not be as close to you all, or to you, Harry, but I've had loved ones who suffered in this war, too, and I want to be right by your side when I watch you defeat the Dark Lord."

"I'll always be there for you, Harry," said Hermione softly, her eyes glistening. That was all Harry needed to hear from her; that simple sentence was more than enough for him to know that Hermione was one of his closest and dearest friends.

"Well, I think we all know where I stand on the subject," said Ginny, eliciting some chuckles from the group of friends. She turned serious again, saying, "Harry, we'll never leave you, none of us. I--we love you so much and we will always be there for you, Harry, whether in spirit or in flesh, and we will never leave your side. Face it: you're stuck with us for life."

Harry chuckled through the tight lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said softly, and for the first time in his short life, he felt truly at home.

*~*~*~*

Severus was in a field. The place was familiar...he'd been there before. Turning around, he spotted a small cottage not too far from where he was standing. He was about the head in the direction of the house when a voice stopped him.

"You should probably stop running away from your problems, you know."

Startled, Severus whipped around and found Milah standing behind him, looking stunning in a long, flowing blue gown that Severus had seen on her only once before.

"I'm not running from anything," he snarled. A stiff breeze rustled her dark brown curls and she simply smiled at him. She then lowered herself to the ground and looked up expectedly at him.

"Well, are you gonna join me or what?" she asked bemusedly.

Grinding his teeth, Severus strode over to where she was seated and gracefully lowered himself down to the warm, soft earth.

The wind continued to blow pleasantly and the bright sun was warm and comforting on Severus's skin.

"You really need to wake up," Milah said with a smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"What are you on about?" Severus snapped impatiently. Milah sighed and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"You're unconscious, you dolt," she said with a small smile. "That's the only way I can get in here, you know. It's quite irresponsible, leaving your mind so open and vulnerable. I expected more from you, Severus."

"If I'm unconscious that means you are, too," he barked.

"Can't get anything past you," Milah drawled with a smirk. Her expression quickly turned serious. "Are you ever going to forgive me?" she asked sadly. "I forgave you, you know, for what happened all those years ago..."

Severus groaned and shook his head. "You never should've," he muttered, surprised at his own admission.

"How can you say that?" Milah asked, stunned. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"My mistake almost cost you your life," he said impatiently. Milah quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. This only made her look more beautiful in Severus's eyes.

"Severus," she said softly. He looked up and made contact with her bright brown eyes. The look in them made his breath hitch. "Wake up."

He blinked. That wasn't what he had expected. "What?"

She smiled broadly. "You're wanted out there. You need to wake up. I'll still be there. I'm never going to leave you...I promise."

Severus stared at her and inhaled sharply. Then, the entire world went black.

*~*~*~*

Severus and Joanna both awoke the next morning feeling, quote, "like shite." All of Severus's physical injuries had been repaired, but his mood was as surly and irritable as ever, and Joanna was so emotional she felt like she was in first year again because she was either constantly bursting into tears or getting headaches due to her Empathic abilities.

The two were released later that day, after much arguing with Madam Pomfrey, and both steered off into the directions of their respective chambers, not speaking a word to one another.

Albus Dumbledore, however, had other ideas. After stopping by Joanna's room and forcing the short-tempered and stubborn women to follow him, he headed towards Severus's chambers. He was going to get the two to talk to each other if it was the last thing he did.

"I don't know why you're even bothering," Joanna said grumpily. "It's not like he's going to listen. He's even more stubborn than I am, and that's saying something."

Albus sighed. The woman was such a pessimist sometimes. Upon reaching the room, he knocked authoritatively on the door, which was flung open a moment later by a scowling Severus Snape.

"Severus!" Albus said jovially. "I was wondering if you'd be up for a cup of tea." Without waiting for an answer, the old man strolled into the living room and planted himself in one of the comfortable chairs.

Still standing at the door, Joanna and Severus engaged in some kind of staring-scowling contest in which neither was winning. Finally, after heaving an irritated sigh, Severus stepped away from the threshold and allowed her to enter the room.

Sitting down primly on the couch, Joanna obstinately ignored Severus as he served Dumbledore some tea, although she was a bit peeved that he didn't offer her anything to drink.

Bloody git, she thought testily.

"Would you like something to drink, Milah?" Severus said with a smirk.

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"And, pray tell, why not?" he sneered.

"Because that's not who I am anymore!" Joanna exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. Oh, for the love of Merlin, don't cry now! she berated herself. She'd been a bloody hosepipe ever since she'd been released from the infirmary that morning.

Severus snorted and looked fit to say something else when Dumbledore intervened.

"I would like to know what happened between the two of you the night the wards fell," he said, calmly sipping his tea.

"Nothing happened," Joanna muttered, staring at the wall. The completely blank wall. Honestly, didn't the man own any artwork?

"That's not what I heard," Dumbledore said, quirking an eyebrow.

"And what exactly did you hear?" Severus snapped.

Dumbledore took a slow breath and smiled slightly. "Harry Potter said he came across the two of you having some kind of argument. According to him, you were holding onto Joanna rather forcibly, and when he intervened, you pushed Joanna away. After having said some, ah, choices words to Mr. Potter about Sirius Black, you stalked off. Harry couldn't remember much after that."

Severus scowled heavily and paced around the room.

"We were just talking," Joanna said, still staring at the blank wall.

Severus stopped in surprise. He thought for sure that she'd rat him out for some reason. He'd practically assaulted her sexually, yet here she was, trying to get him out of trouble. She was such a wonderful, beautiful person--

Severus inwardly groaned at his present train of thought.

"Is this true, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus scowled again. He hated it when his conscience got the better of him; he thought he'd gotten rid of it a long time ago. "No," he snapped. He was so snippy lately. "I threatened and insulted her and Potter. They were very angry with me, and not without reason."

Joanna turned her head away from the wall and stared at Severus. Was this really happening? Was he actually trying to do the right thing? Damn...why hadn't she been told that all hell had frozen over?

"It's not his fault entirely, Professor," she said, still staring at Severus. "I provoked him."

"You did not provoke me!" Snape hissed. Swirling around to face Dumbledore, he said, "I was angry with her for not telling me who she was, so I took my temper out on her and the insolent brat."

"Oh, stop playing the martyr!" Joanna barked. "If anyone's to blame, it's me. I chose not to tell you, even though I knew you'd be mad, but I still kept it from you anyway and used our connection with each other against you--"

"Sir," Severus interrupted loudly, "I believe suitable punishment for me would be a month without pay, possibly a suspension is in order as well--"

"Severus, would you shut it already!" Joanna snapped and was about to say something else when Dumbledore started to laugh.

Now, Albus Dumbledore loved to laugh; it was one of his most favorite activities, after all, but given the current state of the world in which they lived, he found that his humor had to take a back seat to what he was usually feeling. However, the bantering that was currently going on between the two was just too good an opportunity to pass up. They were bickering like an old married couple. Or, more accurately, two certain Gryffindor prefects...

"What's so funny?" Severus demanded with narrowed eyes, putting his hands on his hips quite convinced that the old man had finally lost it after all these years. He looked remarkably like Hermione Granger at that moment. This, of course, only made Dumbledore laugh even harder.

"He's laughing at us," Joanna said with a snicker. "He thinks we're acting like--" Joanna broke off and started laughing herself; it felt so good to laugh again.

"What?" Severus asked again. "What are we acting like?"

"It's not what, it's who!" Joanna gasped, doubled over in mirth.

"Who then!" Snape all but exploded.

"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley!"

Dumbledore and Joanna roared with laughter at the look on Severus's face.

"That's not true!" he said hotly, which only made the two laugh harder. Scowling, Severus sat down onto the couch besides a giggling Joanna and stared moodily into the fire.

"Oh, come now, Severus, you've got to admit, it's pretty funny," Joanna said with a broad smile. "I mean, seriously, those two...Is it true there's some kind of bet going around the faculty about when they will get together?"

Severus scowled again. "Yes," he said shortly, "and I've already lost five Galleons because of it."

Joanna and Dumbledore laughed again and Severus couldn't help the small smile that spread on his face.

"Well, I must be going," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling. "I'll come by later, Severus, to discuss what happened with the Death Eaters. Good night." And before either could say a word, the man was gone and Joanna and Severus were left alone.

Joanna sighed, the happy moment gone. She was now fully aware of the fact that they were sitting fairly close to one another on the couch.

"I'm not sure what to do now," Severus said truthfully.

"I know," Joanna said.

"We have a lot to talk about..."

"I know," she repeated softly.

"Is what you told me true?" he asked.

"Is what true?"

Severus sighed and gave her a baleful look. "About the alcohol...and Malfoy."

"Oh..." Diverting her eyes, she bit her lip and nodded, eliciting a small growl from the man.

Severus reached out, put his hand under her chin, and gently turned her head back to face him. "I regret that I was never there for you like I should have been," he said sincerely. He then leaned forward and gave her a small, gentle kiss on the lips. Closing her eyes, Joanna felt her head droop to his shoulder

"I've missed you," he said quietly, turning his gaze to the fire.

Joanna allowed a small smile play on her lips when Severus slipped his hand into hers and they both proceeded to watch the flames dance in the fireplace, each silently enjoying the other's company.

"I missed you, too," she murmured.

*~*~*~*

Albus Dumbledore strode out of Severus's quarters feeling quite pleased with himself. He knew that much healing was still required in the relationship between Joanna and Severus, but the truth was out and perhaps now the two could finally find the peace they were so desperately seeking.

The Headmaster entered his office and, to his surprise, found an irate looking McGonagall already waiting for him.

"Professor McGonagall!" he said cheerfully. "What can I do for you today?" Striding towards his desk, Dumbledore lowered himself in his seat, popped a lemon candy into his mouth, and avidly watched the Head of Gryffindor with a bemused expression on his face.

"Albus," said McGonagall in what Dumbledore had long ago labeled her "Warning Voice." "Is it true?"

Dumbledore eyed her wearily for a moment before he conjured up a squishy chair and requested that she take a seat.

"Yes," he finally said, "Joanna Kent is indeed Milah Kensington. Needless to say, she did not die all those years ago at Troudemort. She was rescued by Severus the night the Potters died and her death was faked."

"But why, Albus?" demanded McGonagall, her lips very white.

Dumbledore sighed and say back in his chair. "Various reasons," he said after a moment, "for which I cannot divulge. She was in danger--grave danger. Voldemort wanted all the Heirs dead, as you should recall, and when it became apparent that Voldemort was vanquished, the Death Eaters began killing off the prisoners at Troudemort, except for the ones who had not already escaped."

"Like Sielle," she said softly.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Yes, she was one of few who were able to break out that night. It boded well for her that she was an unregistered Animagus. Anyway, in Sielle's testimony, she claimed to have seen first hand the murder of Milah Kensington by a masked Death Eater. In order to keep Milah a secret, we allowed this charade to continue."

"We?" barked McGonagall.

"Yes, we, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Severus, Milah, and myself."

"But why allow the Wizarding world to believe she was dead at all?" she asked.

"You have to understand something," Dumbledore said slowly. "There were many reasons why Milah was taken prisoner in the first place. Most people just like to believe it was because of her abilities and to whom she was related. However, there was another reason, a much greater, sinister reason."

"And you're not going to tell what that reason is, are you?" asked McGonagall, staring at the headmaster.

"I'm afraid I cannot," said Dumbledore, "as it is not for me to tell."

"For Merlin's sake, Albus!" exploded the Transfiguration professor. "She helped blow out half the wards surrounding the school! I had no idea she could do that!"

"I assure you, Minerva, that it wasn't half the wards," Dumbledore said bemusedly, "it was only a quarter. Plus, it was really Harry's power that blew out the windows. She was merely a conduit."

"What do you mean, only a quarter?" McGonagall asked suspiciously.

Dumbledore sighed. "It is rumored that Rowena Ravenclaw helped design the layout for the castle, and that included the windows. She was in charge of warding them. I believe that is the only reason any of this happened. Joanna--Milah--sensed that Harry was angry. When she touched his bare arm, his anger merged with the powers she possesses with being the Heir of Ravenclaw, and that was how they were able to blow out the windows and weaken Ravenclaw's original wards. However, I do not see any danger allowing her to continue teaching here. I just came back from a meeting between the Severus and Joanna, and I can assure you that their relationship is being fixed as we speak."

"You should have told me," McGonagall said suddenly, though there was no longer anger in her voice, only sorrow.

"It was not my place to tell," Dumbledore said softly. "Is there something else you'd like to say to me, Minnie?"

"Tell me, Albus," she said, gazing hard into Dumbledore's clear blue eyes. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" Dumbledore asked lightly. McGonagall sighed and slumped down into her chair.

McGonagall continued to gaze out the window and then abruptly stood up. "I have papers to grade. Thank you for clearing up the confusion. Good day, Albus."

"Minnie..." said Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," she said quickly, cutting him off, "I'm not angry at you so much that I'm angry at your keeping secrets from the Order. Before she arrived, you told--not asked--but told us that we were getting a new member by the name of Joanna Kent. You did not allow us, as an organization, to have any say in the matter. She was a member, end of story. The point of the matter, Albus, is that you lied to the Order, and if we can't trust you then we can't trust anyone at all."

Without saying another word, Minerva McGonagall strode purposely from the room.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, still gazing at the spot where she was standing not a moment earlier. Fawkes flew down from his perch and trilled softly.

"My old friend," Dumbledore said quietly, stroking the phoenix's head, "I believe I've made yet another mistake..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*