Chapter 11: Unease

It was three days before a certain pair of professors caught on to the fact that he hadn't visited Madam Pomfrey.

Professor McGonagall didn't quite scowl at him through the entire class, but he could feel her eyes following his every move.

Professor Flitwick responded in similar fashion and frowned pointedly as Harry scooted out of class before anything else could happen.

Professor Terius was back to his normal self, literally the day after the Pansy-Draco attempt, though he did shoot Harry a few annoyed looks every so often as if he were a particular wrinkle that he couldn't quite iron out. Terius had charged back into classes as usual the very next day afterward and since then, the class had begun to discuss one topic that had Hermione ranting and raving through every meal since—Blood Magic. Harry hadn't cared. It had sounded interesting and even though he'd listened to Hermione's complaints, he felt a strangely alluring call towards the sheer power that Blood Magic promised. It was personal, intimate and so beautifully dark.

He shouldn't like it—or so he felt the whispers in his ears—but oh, how he did love to think and dream of it.

He couldn't wait until they touched on the practical points. Terius had all but promised them that they would see actual Blood Magic in action and in a safe environment, courtesy of Headmaster Dumbledore. It was sure to be a very interesting lesson. Of course, that wasn't the only interesting thing he had to focus on. Harry had ordered a new box of chocolate frogs and eagerly awaited the chance to trade them for Theo's mysterious encyclopedia in Potions that very afternoon. He was itching to get his fingers on that book, sure that the creature encyclopedia would have something on Dragels after all of the books in the Hogwarts library seemed exempt from the very term—well, at least in terms of useful information. Nearly all of them had the same textbook definition as his Care of Magical Creatures textbook and they all had less than flattering things to say of the dearly departed creatures.

Nearly every other text he'd gotten his hands on, seemed to be written from the viewpoints of authors that wished they knew how the extinct race had lived, breathed and survived. There was nothing really useful or concrete between all the speculation scribbled there and Harry couldn't help feeling as if the Dragels had been some sort of very secret society, complete with special passwords and secret handshakes.

It was as if he didn't know the password and because of it, he wouldn't be able to learn the handshake.

It was certainly confusing.

Thankfully, none of his other professors seemed to really be worrying or paying attention to other things—such as his new lack of magic—but then again, he didn't necessarily need magic in Herbology and it wasn't like Professor Binns would care as he droned on about the Goblin wars. Harry was more than grateful for that. It allowed him some leeway and he didn't have to act as much as he did in other classes.

A long yawn sneaked out of his mouth and Harry sighed to himself. He hated feeling this way—so strung out and exhausted and out of sorts, he wanted the week to be over so he could sleep in for the weekend and fix it. For all the wonders that his Dragel inheritance was supposed to be, it was starting to become a little bit of a royal pain. With some effort, Harry pushed the depressing thoughts away and tried to focus on more enjoyable things.

Such as talking to Theo.

Borrowing books from Theo.

Possibly having a longer conversation with Theo—minus a certain redhead's interruption.

Harry sighed.

He was looking forward to spending the afternoon reading and he'd carefully stowed his stash of chocolate frogs in his bookbag, with a smile to Theo as they'd passed in the corridor to let his friend know that he'd gotten his hands on the necessary sweets.

Theo's soft smile in return left him blushing.

Harry ducked his head and skittered off to the next class.

If he had a silly grin on his face for the first period, no one commented on it.

They probably didn't even notice.

It was in Potions that his luck first ran out.

Harry didn't realize it until it was far too late, though it figured that it would only be Snape who would notice. The man never seemed to miss a detail. A familiar twinge of unease slithered into his stomach as Harry rose from the shared workstation and carefully cradled the finished potion to his chest as he got in line to reach the professor's desk.

Said Professor didn't even glance at him as he placed the completed and labeled potion on the desk. "Potter, a word, if you would." He said, stiffly. He waited until the other students had placed their potions on the desk and then he began to gather them up, speaking in Harry's general direction as he did. "The Headmaster wishes to see you in his office directly. Go. Now!"

Harry did.

In the opposite direction.

He bolted from the dungeons and headed for Gryffindor Tower. He did not feel like talking to the overly cheerful wizard and he most certainly did not want to put himself in a position where he might give too much away. The last thing he wanted to share with anyone was the fact that he'd become a—well, an extinct creature—there was simply no good way to slip that into a conversation, anyhow. Harry shuddered. He had a feeling that talking or being in a room alone with said wizard would most certainly do that and he did not want to be blurting out things that were best kept under wraps. He was tired enough to know that he couldn't afford to take that risk—not now anyway.

Maybe if he had a little nap…

A wave of tiredness overtook him and Harry gritted his teeth. Why now of all times? He forced himself to keep on walking, knowing that he'd probably end up sleeping through dinner as he'd done the first week of school, until he'd been able to sleep through the weekend.

He'd almost reached the safety of Gryffindor Tower when his breath suddenly hitched in his throat. It was always the prequel to that lovely, unwanted twinge of unease in his stomach.

Harry bit back the groan of disappointment. He knew that feeling—thanks to his lovely, wonderful, brand-spankin' new Dragel instincts. Something bad was going to happen.

It was going to happen right now.

"Mr. Potter." The Potion Master's silky, dark voice made him stiffen into a statue. "The Headmaster's office is in the other direction. I would hope that the potion fumes have not affected your usually muddled brain to the point that simple instructions are too difficult for your feeble mind to comprehend." The man stared down at him with a mixture of a glower and a scowl in place. "Your head of house has worried about you to the point of mentioning it to the headmaster. Of which, I was selected to personally escort you to his office, just in case you forgot the password or some other equally inane excuse."

Harry swallowed. He could feel his Dragel instincts beginning to act up and scream at him. He didn't like what they were screaming at him. They were warning him away from the older man and telling him that he was threading on thin ice.

"Shall we?" The taller man gestured with over-exaggerated politeness.

Harry held his head high as he turned on his heel and began to retrace his steps. He made sure to keep an even distance between them. If Snape noticed, he didn't let on.

They neared the Headmaster's office with a high-pitched scream made Harry clutch at his ears and whimper.

Snape's head snapped to the side to look at him and then the Potions Master went rigid for a split-second before he broke into a dead run, whatever color he possessed already leaving his abnormally pale face. His robes billowed impressively behind him as he literally flew through the corridors.

Harry grimaced and jogged after him once he discovered that the unearthly scream had only sounded once. That was good. He didn't know if he could handle hearing a second one. It was as if that scream had all but ripped every empathic feeling from his body and shoved it down his throat in a way to make him feel complete, utter despair. A strange hollow emptiness that reminded him almost of the Dementors. Only worse. Harry shoved the thought away as forcefully as he could. How could something be worse than those wretched creatures of darkness?

The scrap of black fabric flickered around the edge of the wall, ahead and Harry hurried after it. He flinched as a powerful ripple of magic surged outward from the corridor. He rounded the corner and gave a squeak of surprise when the haunting scream was repeated and simultaneously interrupted by something akin to a screech.

He didn't know what else to call it.

It was immediately followed by a ground-shaking roar that urged him to drop to the ground and make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

Harry didn't know who roared.

The sight before his eyes was something he wouldn't be able to forget any time soon.

The scent of blood flooded his senses and his first reaction was to gag, swallow hard and then to start up a mental chant in his head. Blood had never smelled quite so...strange before.

But then again, he'd never seen what was now right before his eyes.

Draco Malfoy lay on the ground, clutching his bloodied middle. The trim body was contorted in an awkward position with smears of blood decorating most of his visible figure. Professor Terius knelt beside him, minus his teaching robes which had been used to form a makeshift pillow to prop up the blond head. His hands hovered about Draco's face, before the blond opened his mouth to cough up blood. Terius lifted him enough to turn his head to the side for the liquid to trickle out the side. At their approach, Terius jerked upright and his grey-blue eyes flashed with power and anger as Snape approached. His lips curled back and an audible snarl filled the corridor.

Snape jerked around to look at Harry, his black eyes going impossibly darker and then he twisted back to look at Terius and gave a low growl, his gaze now fixed on Draco's prone form.

Harry stumbled backwards and fell when another powerful wave of magic snapped out, all but throwing him to the hard ground. He stared in fascination as Snape purposefully strode closer to the duo and easily shrugged out of his own robes with the intent of covering Draco's injured body.

Terius growled at him again as he wrapped his arms protectively around Draco, his grey-blue eyes sparking with emotions that Harry couldn't even begin to understand.

Snape growled in reply.

Terius answered with a faint hiss that trailed off to be something like a whine.

A low rumble sounded from the Potions Master.

Two answering whines of distress came from the Draco-Terius pair on the ground.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He didn't dare breathe. The urge to fall to the ground hadn't really lessened, but seeing as he was already flat on the ground, Harry simply stayed where he was. He wished desperately he had his magic back. But the bizarre scene continued to play out in front of him. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away as Snape drew nearer to the duo and draped his precious teaching robes over Draco's form. Within seconds, his wand slid out into his hand and he began casting spells. In between of the hastily whispered words, the Potions Master hissed and growled at the younger professor. Terius bowed his head, leaning away from the angry sounds, but continuing to support and rub warmth into the pale pureblood. In what was merely a matter of minutes, but somehow seemed to be much longer, Snape rose in his usual dramatic way, cradling Draco in his arms as he scowled at the bloody floor.

Terius followed his gaze as he slowly rose, keeping a cautious eye on the older man. When Severus scowled at him, Terius waved his hand at the mess and it disappeared.

A curt nod from the Potions Master was the only sign of approval.

Harry swallowed hard. There definitely had been no wand involved with that. The entire episode seemed rather surreal as if such a thing could never happen. But Harry found he still couldn't look away as he watched the drama play out between the three. A faint, stirring of hope sparked through him as his Dragel self identified with fellow creatures of its kind.

Terius cast the same cleaning charms on himself and waited while his clothes were cleaned of the blood. When he was finished, grey-blue eyes zeroed in on Harry's surprised form. "Mr. Potter." His voice was strained as if it took too much effort to speak in slow, measured tones. "Follow." The DADA professor turned and instead of hanging back, he started forward and squinted down the corridor. A quick glance around seemed to satisfy him and he motioned to Snape to move first.

Surprisingly, Snape did.

Terius fell into step, intent on keeping himself between Harry and the other two before he realized that Harry wasn't following. "Is there something wrong with your feet?" He snapped, returning to stand a few feet away, but making no move to aid Harry. The sea-blue-grey eyes were wary with something hidden in their dark depths. The expression on the young professor's face gave little away. Harry stared up at him. "I have no intention of carrying you anywhere, so I would suggest you walk now unless you would prefer to be, what do you call it here—ah—obliviated?"

That worked.

Harry was on his feet in seconds and glaring at the man he had almost come to respect. There would be no one carrying or obliviating him if he could help it—regardless of whether he had magic or not.

Terius merely gave a curt nod and turned around, breaking into an even trot to keep up with Snape's long strides. They passed by Dumbledore's office, at which the Gargoyle leapt to the side and the aged wizard in question appeared at the bottom of the steps.

"Severus!" Dumbledore called out, cheerfully. "And Professor Terius! To what do I owe the—oh dear." The smile and twinkle faded at once as he caught sight of Severus' armful. "Poppy?" He suggested, switching instantly to a serious mode as he falling directly into step with a billow of bright blue and silver brocaded robes.

Snape walked right past him without a word or glance. Terius followed suit. Draco whimpered and curled further into the arms holding him.

Harry trailed along, finding himself walking directly beside the Headmaster. He gulped. The uneasy feeling hadn't faded yet. He didn't want to even think of why.

The Headmaster seemed not to notice.