AN: It's been ages. Really, far too long. Sorry about that. Still, here's a chapter!

Chapter 4

Harry's day was not going well. Everyone in the whole school thought he put his own name in the Goblet, and only Hermione believed him when he insisted he didn't. Even Ron was acting cold and distant, and though Hermione explained he was probably jealous of all the attention Harry was getting once again, Harry hated it. He hated all the attention, he hated the whispers and stares that followed him everywhere. He hated the sneers from the Slytherins, and he even hated the cheers from the overenthusiastic Gryffindors last night as they tried to congratulate him on a job well done for getting his name in the goblet. He wished they would all just find someone else to stare at. And, in a way, he was about to get his wish.

Their new rooms were quite comfortable, decorated in tones of royal blue and gold. There was a sitting room with a fireplace and sofas, and a small corridor leading to several bedrooms. After the fidgeting creature from before – a house elf, apparently – led them to it and disappeared with a small pop, there was a short moment of confusion before it was decided that Christopher and Mordecai would take the two rooms on the right and Millie would take the one on the left.

"Are all of your things in that?" asked Christopher as Millie heaved her large suitcase onto the bed.

"Yes, although I don't have much. I brought all of your things too." She paused guiltily, "Oh! I forgot about Throgmorten! He's going to be so mad…" She moved behind the suitcase and tentatively reached for the clasps. "Get ready," she warned, and then threw the top open.

"WONG!"

A very angry, very loud, and eerily demonic creature burst forth in a hissing, spitting, yowling ball of fury. "Wong! Wong! WONG!" It seemed to sense Millie hiding behind the suitcase lid and clawed at every available bit of her.

"Ow! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It was the only way to hide you from Chrestomanci!"

"Throgmorten!" exclaimed Christopher joyfully, and suddenly the bloodthirsty demon transformed into a scruffy old ginger cat.

"Wong?" said Throgmorten, ignoring a bleeding Millie.

Christopher dropped down so he could be at eye-level with Throgmorten on the bed. "Hallo, Throgmorten. Glad you could make it!"

Throgmorten gave a wong that seemed to convey that he could have made it without being stuck in a suitcase, thank you very much, but he wandered over and allowed himself to be scratched behind his ragged ears.

"Well he'd better not have hurt Proudfoot," said Millie sulkily as she dabbed at her scratches with a handkerchief. She reached into the suitcase and gently removed a covered wicker basket which, when uncovered, revealed a nest of rainbow cloth with a white ball of fluff. "Hello, sweetheart," crooned Millie, and a huge pair of bright blue eyes blinked sleepily at her. The kitten gave a tiny pink yawn and slowly began exploring its new surroundings. "I hope you don't mind, I've been keeping her in that scarf you gave me when I first came. You said it had protection spells, right?"

"I think so. That's what Mrs. Pawson said."

"I brought everything of yours I could find in your room, mostly clothes, although I'm not sure if it's the proper attire for this world. They all seem to be wearing gowns," she said, with an amused glance at Christopher.

"They're called robes," defended Christopher. He might not like them, but if he was wearing them then no one could make fun of them. "You'll have to wear them too, I think."

"Well, it's not like I have any other clothes. Miss Rosalie gave me this dress so I wouldn't have to wear your old clothes, what do you think?"

Christopher looked at her blankly. "It's too big for you."

Millie shot him an annoyed glance as she started digging through the clothes in the trunk. "That's not what you're supposed to say. You're supposed to say it looks nice." She dumped the clothes on the bed. "A gentleman always compliments a lady. That's what the books said." As if to reinforce her point, she flipped the bottom of the suitcase with a twist of magic and revealed her collection of Millie books.

"No wonder that case was so heavy, you expanded it using that trick you showed me at the Temple," said Christopher, impressed in spite of himself. "I'm glad you thought of that."

"Of course," said Millie, but Christopher could tell she was pleased. "I couldn't leave my books behind, could I? And look!" She flipped the inside of the case again to reveal even more books, "I found some more in the library at Chrestomanci Castle!"

"How can you even carry that much weight?" wondered Christopher.

"Well, I tried to make it weigh less using magic, but I've never done that before, so it didn't really work."

Tacroy entered the room with a smile that crinkled his eyes. Christopher was relieved to see that smile on him again. He used to only smile like that, like he was truly happy, when he was in spirit form. In the flesh, he had been much sadder. "I see we are joined by even more friends from our world," he said. "Hello again, Throgmorten. I am quite envious of the damage you were able to inflict upon Christopher's uncle."

Throgmorten gave a self-satisfied wong and wandered out the door past Tacroy to explore his new territory.

"Once you're done unpacking, how about we go wander about the castle together? I know Christopher is going to go exploring no matter what anyone says, so I may as well go with you to save you from your recklessness." He smiled to take the edge off his criticism. "I have missed our jaunts across strange lands together – and now there isn't anyone waiting for me to come back to my body."

Christopher was quite pleased with this idea. "I think we're about done here. It's not like we have much. What do you think, Millie? Want to come exploring with us?"

Millie paused in the process of organizing her books. "I suppose I'd rather be with you then alone in this room. But I should take Proudfoot – I don't think she's quite old enough to be on her own yet."

"Let's go then!" said Christopher, grabbing an armful of clothes and darting past Tacroy to his own room across the hall. "I'll bet this castle is much better for exploring than Chrestomanci Castle. There aren't even any anti-magic blanketing spells!"

Mordecai chuckled and a softness came to his usually sharp eyes. Millie watched him and wondered if Christopher knew that when he wasn't around, Mordecai's face became much harder and more bitter. It had been a relatively short interval between losing Christopher and sending Mordecai after him, but it had been enough for Mordecai to look like a totally different person.

Christopher ran back into the room and grabbed Mordecai's hand. "Come on, let's go!" he said impatiently. "You're ready, right Millie?"

Nobody could stop Christopher when he really wanted something, thought Millie. She scooped up the rainbow bundle with Proudfoot in it and hurried out after an excited Christopher dragging a smiling Tacroy out the door. Yes, she thought happily, this is much better than the Temple. This is what school should be like.

"I think we're lost," said Millie quite a while later.

"Nonsense!" said Christopher with a confident air. "I know exactly what I'm doing! We never got lost in the Related Worlds, did we, Tacroy?"

"That's debatable," replied Tacroy in an indulgent tone, "but you do indeed have a remarkable sense of direction. I rather think that the castle has been moving around us, actually."

"Has it?" said Christopher, "Wonderful! I knew this place was better than Chrestomanci Castle. Do you think it would take us to the dining hall if we asked it?"

"It would be best to head there soon," agreed Millie.

"I'm not sure if it's quite that sentient, but the portraits seem to be," pointed out Tacroy.

Millie had been trying not to think about that. As they had wandered down increasingly confusing passageways, following Christopher's random whims, they had been followed by whispers and stares from all the surrounding paintings. Millie didn't like them. They reminded her too much of the priestesses at the temple, always spying and gossiping, so she had been determinedly ignoring them.

Christopher turned to the nearest portrait, a woman in a long green dress hiding her face behind a lace fan. He put on his best 'going into Society with Mama' look and addressed her formally, with a courtly half-bow. "Excuse me, Madame, but could you possibly direct us to the dining hall?" Millie had almost forgotten he could be gentlemanly when he wanted to. The ladies from her books would definitely approve.

The woman giggled behind her fan but said nothing.

"How incredibly helpful," said Christopher dryly, dropping the act. "What is the point of magical portraits if they're just going to be rude and titter to themselves?" He turned to Tacroy with a speculative look, "Do you think they would feel pain if we burned them?"

The woman in green looked shocked and outraged, so Millie took this opportunity to interrupt. "Look, Throgmorten's come back! Maybe we should ask him?"

Throgmorten had been exploring with them, taking several side forays to who knows where before occasionally returning to check if they were alright – well, if Christopher was alright. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself and had regained most of his old swagger, apparently satisfied that this place would be an adequate territory for now.

"Oh! Throgmorten," said Christopher as he bent over to rub the cat's ragged ears. Millie internally shuddered. Only Christopher would be brave (or stupid) enough to do such a thing. Only Christopher could get away with it without getting his fingers bitten off. "Found anything interesting?"

A smug look lit up Throgmorten's evil yellow eyes as he rubbed against Christopher's leg with a satisfied "Wong!"

"Fine then, but you have to show me later," replied Christopher. "For now, could you lead us to the dining hall? It's time and past for lunch, I'm sure."

"Wong!" with a meaning look.

"Of course!"

Millie sighed. She never did understand Throgmorten as well as Christopher, for all that she had basically grown up with him. She was much more comfortable with the other temple cats.

And, of course, they were already halfway down the hall. "Come on, Millie!" called Christopher as he rounded the bend.

"I can't tell who's a worse influence on who, Christopher or Throgmorten," mused Mordecai as he started after them.

"Throgmorten. Definitely Throgmorten. He was always a terrible bully to all the other cats – and everyone else," Millie paused, and continued softly, "Besides, Christopher is a gentleman, deep down. He did visit and bring me my books, when he really didn't have to, you know."

"Ah, I wouldn't discount Christopher so easily," said Mordecai lightly, "he was quite the terror as a young child. Did you know he's been traveling between worlds for as long as he can remember? The first time I met him, he was better at it than me, and I'd been studying my whole life." He paused and smiled slightly, as if remembering something amusing. "Also, he's a wonderful liar."

"Yes, well, he didn't even know what he was doing, did he? It's not that easy if you only have one life," Millie replied a bit uneasily. She still felt guilty about stealing one of Christopher's lives to travel to his world, but it all turned out well in the end, didn't it? Then she remembered something. "Besides, wasn't it you who did all the lying for him?"

Mordecai's face stiffened, just a bit, and his face was tilted away so Millie couldn't see his eyes. He quickened his pace as he remarked, in a casual manner, "Well, we'd better hurry up or we'll get left behind."

Oh dear, thought Millie. I shouldn't have said that.

Christopher slowed down as he finally approached the entrance to the dining hall, which was apparently where he had first arrived. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be around so many people his own age. They were… loud. He could hear them halfway down the corridor outside.

Throgmorten had disappeared. He could probably find food on his own, after all. Millie and Tacroy were still a ways behind him, so he lingered in the doorway watching the hubbub.

There were four main tables, and a dias at the front of the room. The students ranged in age from a bit younger than Christopher to a few years older. Quite a few years, some of them. Almost all of them were wearing some variation of the loose black robes that Christopher was in, although there was some color here and there. One table was dotted with pale blue uniforms and another held students with various pieces of fur on their clothing. Christopher noticed the other two tables were quite a bit emptier. One of those, then.

Tacroy and Millie finally caught up with Christopher and paused beside him.

"I suppose I should eat with the teachers while you two meet the other students. You don't need me there to embarrass you, right?"

"You wouldn't embarrass me," said Christopher absently, still examining the crowd. They had caught a few eyes by now and people were beginning to stare. He missed Tacroy's fleetingly pleased expression. "Still, that would probably be best. Come on, Millie."

Christopher grabbed Millie from where she was trying to hide behind Tacroy and dragged her to the nearest empty seats. Millie shot Tacroy a terrified look as she hunched around the bundle of rainbow cloth in her arms, but he just smiled back and walked away. It would be good for the two of them to meet some people their own age, he thought. Even if it might be a bit terrifying. The best things in life sometimes were.

"Hello," said Christopher as he sat down, "I'm Christopher, this is Millie, and we're new here. Who are you?"

How can he just do that, thought Millie as she settled the sleeping Proudfoot onto the bench beside her. Christopher always seemed so confident no matter what situation he was in. Was he really that sure of himself?

The boy sitting across from them seemed even more startled than she was. "Er… hi," he said tentatively, "Nice to meet you? I'm Neville."

"Hello Neville," said Christopher distractedly as he examined the overflowing dishes surrounding him. "This looks good," he commented, reaching to grab a serving platter. "Would you like some, Millie?"

Millie had never seen any of these dishes before, although some of them resembled food she knew slightly. "I guess I'll try some of – what is that?"

"Mashed potatoes," said Christopher, scooping some onto her plate, "So, Neville, tell me about Hogwarts."

"Umm…" began Neville, looking uncertain, but he was quickly interrupted by two boys who had moved down from the other end of the table when they saw Christopher and Millie arrive.

"Greetings, oh mysterious stranger," said one of them in a light, bantering tone.

"What brings you to the great table of Gryffindor?" added the other. They were obviously twins, with bright red hair and matching mischievous grins.

"Oh – were we not supposed to sit here?" asked Millie worriedly. In the books, the girls usually sat with their friends, but there weren't really any rules. What if the books were wrong?

"You can sit here!" burst out Neville, surprising himself and the twins. He blushed as the attention was suddenly turned to him. "If you want to, I mean…" he muttered, sliding down in his seat slightly.

"Of course!" agreed the twin to his left brightly. "Gryffindor is the best of the Hogwarts Houses, after all," continued the one on his right.

"Houses?" said Millie, glad to recognize something, "Like Landry House and Woodward House?"

"What?" asked one of the twins, while the other spread his arms and exclaimed, "Why, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, of course!" the first twin continued, "Don't you know anything about Hogwarts?"

"Not really," replied Christopher breezily, finally looking up from his food at the boisterous pair, "We just got here. I've never heard of it before. So, what's this about houses? And who are you?"

"What a disgrace, not recognizing us," began one twin with mock affront, "For we are the infamous Weasley twins, Gred and Forge!" finished the other.

"They're Fred and George, really," said Neville, "Where are you from, that you haven't heard of Hogwarts? Have you been living with Muggles?"

"Muggles?" said Millie blankly. She glanced at Christopher, but he was busy chewing with a thoughtful look on his face. "What is that? Some kind of disease?"

Fred and George looked at each other, intrigued, then sat down on either side of Neville. "Never heard of Muggles?" said one, "But you are a wizard and a witch," continued the other. "Really, where are you from?" they finished together.

Millie blinked. They really were in synch. Were all twins like that? "I'm from the Temple of – " she hesitated, "Asheth," she finished, glancing up quickly. Christopher gave a slight twitch that might have been a wince. Nothing happened, and they both gave a sigh of relief.

"I guess you're forgiven, then," commented Christopher, looking over at Millie.

"Of course," she replied, drawing herself up so that she almost looked like the haughty Goddess he remembered, "I no longer have anything to do with her."

Neville decided to ignore this confusing exchange and asked again, "So, where is that? Where are you from?" The twins looked proud that he was taking the initiative and one of them clapped him on the back.

"Well, the Temple is in Series Nine," said Christopher, "And I'm from right next door, Twelve D."

"Series Nine? What does that mean? Next door?"

"Oh, do you not know about the Related Worlds? I guess it might be a secret here… Never mind then. Tell us about Hogwarts."

After that, no matter how hard they tried, the twins couldn't get Christopher to talk about where he came from. Neville seemed to have used up his boldness for the day and didn't ask again, but he was still listening curiously. The other students at the table had also noticed and were not so surreptitiously leaning over. Finally, growing impatient, Christopher said, "I'll tell you later if Tacroy says it's alright, is that acceptable?"

"Mordecai," murmured Millie next to him.

"I mean Mordecai," Christopher corrected himself. He glanced up at the front of the hall to see Tacroy watching, and was rewarded with a warm smile and an approving nod.

Mordecai was glad to see Christopher interacting with children his own age. The staff table, as this appeared to be, was rather quiet, as more than half the seats were empty. He supposed they were a bit late to lunch – or perhaps the missing teachers ate elsewhere. Either way, it gave Mordecai a much appreciated moment of quiet to reflect in.

Just yesterday – less than twenty four hours ago – he got his soul back. Or rather, Christopher got his soul back, and gave it to him. For the first time in his life, he was the master of his own soul. He wasn't quite sure what this meant for him yet, but so far it had been wonderful. Everything was so much sharper, clearer, more real. Every breath was a joy, a reminder of his freedom. It was as if a hole inside of him that he had never noticed had suddenly been filled.

As a newly ensouled being, though, he couldn't help but notice a certain man sitting alone two seats to his left. He certainly had a soul, yet there was a barely perceptible edge to him, something about his expression, or the way he held himself, that reminded Mordecai of himself. Some trace of bitterness, of hopeless despair.

It was not in Mordecai's nature to be very caring of others – Christopher was the first one he really allowed into his heart, and with good reason – yet something about that fresh surge of joy as he truly tasted the food he was eating and the air he breathed urged him to at least try. Mordecai was not a cruel man, and he disliked seeing others suffer. Besides, it was what Christopher would have wanted (he was such a kind boy), and he owed Christopher everything.

So Mordecai found himself picking up his plate and moving to sit down next to a most unfriendly looking man, dressed all in black with long, greasy dark hair.

"Hello," he began amiably, "My name is Mordecai Roberts and I'll be living here for the rest of the year. Who might you be?"

"Professor Snape," said the man coldly, reacting to Mordecai's cheerful grin with obvious distaste. "Why exactly will you be staying here, and why are you interrupting my lunch, out of all the teachers here that you could bother?"

Alright, this might be difficult, concluded Mordecai. "You remind me of someone," he replied easily, never losing his smile. He had been through much worse than this without dropping it. "And I'm here for Christopher, of course."

"Of course," repeated Professor Snape sarcastically. "Who is this Christopher, then?"

Mordecai pointed over to the table where Christopher and Millie were having an animated conversation, and Snape sneered. He was very good at it, noted Mordecai.

"The boy from last night. I see he's already popular with the Gryffindors, then. He seems the type. Arrogant, foolish, and likely to get himself killed."

"I can't argue with that last point," said Mordecai lightly, although inside of him was boiling over in sudden rage. Interesting, he thought, my emotions seem to have increased in intensity since I regained control of my soul. He made sure to catch Snape's eyes as he let his voice take on a menacing, icy tone, "But you will never insult Christopher in my presence again." He paused, forcing his sudden fury down. He was his own man now, he needed to be in control. "Understood?" he asked warmly, with a smile once more.

Snape managed to stop himself from swallowing and definitely did not allow his expression to change. For a moment there Mordecai Roberts' eyes had been as hard and piercing as any Snape had seen, and he wondered briefly if the man knew Legilimancy. But no, Snape did not feel any brush on his mind.

"This boy is so important, then?" he asked snidely, more to cover his briefly stunned moment than anything else.

The strange, smiling man looked once more down the room and his expression softened into a more natural smile. "Someday Christopher will be the most important man in all the worlds. But of course he already is, for me." He turned back to Snape with a friendly air, as though the previous exchange had never happened. "So, Professor Snape, what do you teach?"

"Potions," bit out Snape curtly, hoping this disconcerting man would get bored and be gone soon.

"That must be interesting," he replied politely, "I am – well, was a professional spirit traveler, myself."

Did this man delight in throwing people off-balance? As annoyed as Snape was, he couldn't contain his curiosity. "And what does a professional spirit traveler do?" He asked, against his better instincts of avoiding conversation with people like this. He paused, then continued, "More importantly, why, exactly, are you and Christopher here? Why haven't you returned to wherever you came from? Why did the Goblet call out 'Chrestomanci'?" If he was going to be stuck with this annoying man, he might as well get some information out of it.

The strange Mr. Roberts' smile grew even wider, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. If he had not seen it himself a moment ago, Snape would not believe that this man could look anything but disarmingly cheerful and warm. "Christopher was Chrestomanci for a brief time," he said, with a hint of pride, "and he did a wonderful job. The Goblet called him because apparently something went wrong, and now he's going to participate in this tournament of yours. We could take him home, of course, but…" he trailed off, his eyes once more drifting down the room, "I think it will be good for him here."

Well, that did seem to match up with what he had heard so far. A thought struck him. "This boy, Christopher – what is his last name, anyway? He will be staying here? Does that mean he will be taking classes?" My classes? He thought to himself. Not another Gryffindor. "Will he be sorted?"

"Christopher Chant," replied Roberts, still idly watching the boy as he ate, "And I believe Flavian will answer your other questions when he gets here." He looked around the table at the food nearest them. "Do you have any ham?"

Snape groaned internally and wondered if it would be worth it to leave without finishing his meal when Roberts was thankfully distracted by a well-mannered voice.

"Mordecai? Mordecai Roberts? At last, I found you! This place is a maze, isn't it?" exclaimed a pale young man in a very formal, stuffy, and most definitely muggle outfit. Snape remembered that the dignified old man from last night was also wearing something resembling a rather old-fashioned muggle suit, though he looked much more comfortable in it than this new arrival. Perhaps that's why he seemed to stand out so much – nervous, uncomfortable, plump and pale, he looked like he tried too hard to fit in and subsequently never fit in anywhere. Snape was ready to dismiss him as a waste of space when Roberts replied to him.

"Ah, Flavian, you've arrived! What an opportune moment, as well, for Snape here was just wanting to ask you some questions."

I was? Snape irritably thought to himself, but he considered upgrading the new stranger from "completely useless" to "possible source of information."

"Oh!" said Flavian, sounding a bit flattered. "I'd be delighted! What would you like to know, Mr. - …?" he trailed off politely.

"Snape," he responded rather darkly, "Professor Snape."

"Oh, a professor," said Flavian, looking vaguely impressed. "I suppose we'll be working together a bit, then. My name's Flavian Temple," he continued, holding his hand out a bit nervously, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Snape gave the hand a disdainful glare, but reached out to shake it anyway. Oh save me from cheerful idiots, he thought rather grumpily. And nervous ones, he added, as Flavian gave him a rather timid smile.

"And what do you teach, Professor Snape?" asked Flavian.

This is getting ridiculous, Snape thought. "Potions," he said shortly, and then, before either of them could make another inane comment, he asked one of the questions he really wanted to know. "Why did the Goblet call for Chrestomanci? Who or what is that? Is it the boy, or the man who came later, or something else entirely?" He knew something had been mentioned the night before when all the champions were gathered, but he had been seething too much at Potter's audacity to properly pay attention, and now it seemed important.

Flavian glanced helplessly at Roberts, who gave him an encouraging smile, before turning back to Snape, apparently resigned to being in charge of the explanation.

"Well, Chrestomanci is a title, but also refers to the person bearing that title, of course. The current Chrestomanci is Gabriel de Witt, the first man who came here after Christopher. Christopher will inherit the title when Gabriel either dies or retires. Probably not for a long while, but we are concerned that Christopher be entirely prepared when – "

"So what does this title 'Chrestomanci' mean, then?" interrupted Snape impatiently.

"Oh. So you haven't heard any legends? Most places have at least some kind of mythical structure…" he trailed off under Snape's quelling glare. "Well! Chrestomanci is an enchanter with nine lives whose duty is to control and regulate the use of magic throughout the Related Worlds."

"Related Worlds?" repeated Snape, briefly stunned. Nine lives? They couldn't possibly be implying…

"Yes, of course, the Related Worlds. With the obvious exception of... wait. You haven't heard of Chrestomanci or the Related Worlds?" he cast a puzzled glance at Roberts, who was looking thoughtful.

"I don't think this world has been officially contacted by ours. After all, they don't appear to have any magic, at least not publically, which is a very unusual state of affairs. But then again, what about the Goblet? If Chrestomanci was here before, why doesn't everyone know about it?"

Snape's mind reeled at all the revelations and possible implications. Other worlds? Chrestomanci was here before? And… "Nine lives? Really?" he muttered to himself. Apparently, Flavian heard him.

"Yes, nine lives," he confirmed. Then he sighed. "Although Christopher has rather a lot less than nine presently, due to an unfortunate series of circumstances." Flavian looked a bit guilty at that. "One of those was mostly my fault, actually," he added.

"Really?" cut in Roberts, his voice a bit sharper than before, "I haven't heard this story before. Please, tell us." There was an awkward pause.

"I – ah – I asked him to conjure fire." Flavian looked deeply troubled for a moment, and then burst out, "It should have been safe! We were in the middle of the woods, everything flammable was soaked – it was raining, for goodness' sake! It should have been almost impossible to conjure a good-sized flame!"

"Well, I can see where you went wrong," said Roberts dryly, looking more relaxed. "You shouldn't offer Christopher a challenge. He tends to rise to the occasion."

"I should say so! He conjured an inferno! I only survived because I threw up a shield at the last second!" Flavian looked a bit frazzled at the memory. "It took us quite a while to stop the forest fire, you know. Being imbued with Christopher's magic, the flames just would not go out. We had to call Chrestomanci out from the middle of a Wraith hunt – " he paused suddenly and glanced at Roberts, whose expression remained carefully neutral. "Anyway, Gabriel was the only one powerful enough to stop it, and he was quite angry with Christopher. Thank goodness we weren't in a populated area, or Christopher wouldn't have been the only casualty."

By this time, Snape had had a few moments to reflect and regain control. "So this boy, Christopher, he died – and then what? He just came back to life? Without any consequences?"

"Well, he was burned to a crisp, and it was quite an unsettling sight, but he grew a new skin soon enough and was well enough to help with putting out the fire – which is a good thing, because when Christopher casts a spell, it really stays. Even Chrestomanci couldn't completely contain it." Flavian looked torn between being impressed, scared, and exasperated with his student.

"Burned to a crisp…" murmured Roberts. "Flavian," he said seriously, "When was this?"

"It was the day before the cricket match. Why do you ask?"

"I thought so. He had already lost his life the night before in Series Eight. He was killed by a dragon." Roberts' voice was low and regretful.

A dragon, thought Snape a bit wildly. This boy obviously attracted trouble like a magnet. Even Potter hadn't managed to be killed by a dragon yet – and there his thoughts came back to the issue that had been haunting him from the beginning. This boy was killed. He died. And yet he came back? That smelled of the darkest kind of magic, something the Dark Lord would kill to get his hands on.

"That would explain the fire, then." Flavian gave a strangely relieved nod, but Roberts wasn't paying attention anymore. His gaze had been caught by some disturbance at the Gryffindor table. "But why would a dragon –"

"You came to get Christopher and Millie, didn't you?" interrupted Roberts. "I believe they are ready to go. Shall we?" and he swept off without waiting.

"Yes, of course," Flavian agreed. "It was nice to meet you, Professor Snape. I hope to have the pleasure of your company again in the future."

I hope not, Snape thought absently, watching as the two men rescued their charges from a crowd of over-enthusiastic Gryffindors. But most of his mind was preoccupied with the information he had just learned, and how he could stop it from spreading. After all, with great power came everyone else wanting to steal it from you. Or at least kill you so you couldn't use it against them.

AN: Well, it's not much, after all this time, but it's something. I hope to update more regularly from now on. What do you think of Tacroy and Snape? Once I got to thinking about it, they have a lot in common. Double agents and all that. Also, Flavian is really hard to write. I feel like he'd fall over if I pushed him with a feather. If you have any comments about the characterization or what you would like to see in the plot, please share them! I'm still not sure where I'm going with this, ultimately, so I might use some of your ideas. Thanks for reading!