The castle was already stirring.
Windows lit.
Teachers rushing down corridors in half-buttoned robes as they had been stirred from their beds.
Most had already been in motion thanks to the arrival of the Draconis girls with the kidnapped Ginny, only for a second reason to sound off minutes later.
The dragon's roar had been enough to wake half of Scotland.
Cassius stepped through the main courtyard archway with the exhausted irritation of someone who had just fought a Dark Lord's memory, hatched a dragon, and flown out of a subterranean death labyrinth.
Over his shoulder, Harry dangled like an oversized sack of potatoes—limbs limp, head bouncing lightly with each step.
A few paintings shrieked at the sight of him before realizing it was only Harry Potter unconscious and Cassius Snape looking bored as he trudged his way through the school.
Professor McGonagall was the first adult to reach him.
She skidded to a halt, tartan robe flying.
"Mr. Snape—what in Merlin's name—"
Cassius shifted Harry higher so he didn't slip.
"He passed out," Cassius said simply. "Hospital Wing?"
McGonagall opened and closed her mouth like a startled hen.
"Y-yes—yes of course—this way!"
Professor Flitwick and Sprout appeared next, both looking equally frazzled, trailing questions Cassius ignored entirely at least for now, using his exhaustion as an excuse, but refusing to give up his charge of carrying harry.
McGonagall led the procession, practically sprinting, while Cassius walked at his usual calm pace, Harry slung over his shoulder like an inconvenient bag of flour.
By the time they reached the Hospital Wing doors, the entire hallway was jammed with students, who'd been woken by the roar, and being wide eyed a the sight being brought closer to them.
Hushed voices flowed over Cassius like ripples:
"Is that Harry?"
"They say Cassius already saved Ginny?"
"What about the dragon, was that his doing as well!?"
Cassius pushed through without acknowledging a single one of them.
Inside, Madam Pomfrey let out a gasp that could have shattered glass.
"Oh—oh heavens ABOVE—put him DOWN, Mr. Snape!"
Cassius set Harry unceremoniously onto the closest bed.
"He fainted. Possibly exhaustion. Possibly fear."
Madam Pomfrey squawked. "You cannot simply—POTTER IS UNCONSCIOUS!"
She had started laying into him thinking he'd just barged in to visit the Weasley girl, only to see the other unconcious boy being set down on an open bed.
"Which is why I brought him here," Cassius said.
Ginny Weasley was already in the next bed over, pale but breathing steadily, Cho sitting beside her and Daphne polishing her wand like they hadn't just helped breach a dark, ancient sanctum.
The moment Cassius appeared, Cho's face lit with relief, Daphne's with satisfaction.
McGonagall exhaled shakily. "Cassius… what exactly happened tonight?"
Cassius clasped his hands behind his back.
"I'll give my report to the Headmaster."
"He's still away—he was called to the Ministry after word reached him of the abduction—he'll arrive any moment—"
A familiar, calm voice drifted down the corridor:
"No need to wait, Minerva."
Dumbledore stepped into view, robes still dusted with soot, face lined with worry that immediately sharpened when he saw the two students in hospital beds.
"Oh my," he murmured, approaching Ginny first, verifying she was alive.
Relief softened his shoulders.
He turned next to Harry—
And then to Cassius.
"Mr. Snape," Dumbledore said quietly, "I believe we have much to discuss."
Cassius only nodded.
Behind them, whispers swelled:
"Cassius saved her—"
"My mum's gonna lose her mind—"
Dumbledore raised a hand and the students instantly fell silent.
"Bed," he said gently, gesturing toward Harry. "And no more chaos tonight."
But chaos had already begun.
Cassius watched the murmuring crowd grow.
Admiration.
Awe.
Fear.
The narrative was already writing itself:The boy who saved the school.
And Harry Potter had been carried in unconscious, so much for the boy who lived seems he can only manage that with others help.
~
Harry woke to warm sunlight on stone, a pounding headache, and the faint sound of Ginny breathing in the bed beside him.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
Then it all slammed back—the Chamber, the cocoon, Cassius defeating him in seconds—
—and Voldemort disappearing by Cassius's hand.
Harry groaned.
"Ah," came Dumbledore's voice, "you're awake."
Harry blinked, vision adjusting.
He wasn't in the Hospital Wing anymore.
He was in the Headmaster's office—surrounded by silver instruments humming softly, portraits leaning in curiously, and Fawkes preening on his perch with warm, golden eyes.
Dumbledore stood before him, hands folded.
"How are you feeling?"
Harry swallowed. "Embarrassed."
Dumbledore's gaze softened. "You faced forces beyond your current ability. That is no shame, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "Cassius didn't think so. He—he beat me without even trying. He killed Voldemort's memory. He saved Ginny. Everyone knows it."
Silence.
Harry clenched his fists.
"I was useless."
Dumbledore stepped closer. "Harry… power matures at different times in different wizards. Your value—your destiny—does not disappear because someone else shone brightly today."
Harry didn't look convinced.
Instead he blurted:
"I want training."
Dumbledore paused.
"Training?"
"Yes," Harry said, voice cracking. "Real training. I—I can't just freeze again. I need to be able to fight. I need to be able to protect people. I can't let everyone down again."
Dumbledore studied him for a long, heavy moment.
Finally:
"…Very well."
Harry's head snapped up.
"You agree?"
"I agree," Dumbledore said. "After tonight, it would be unkind to leave you unprepared. We will begin with fundamentals—spell control, emotional discipline, defensive casting. No shortcuts. It will be difficult."
Harry nodded fiercely. "I don't care. I need it."
"Good," Dumbledore said softly. "Then we shall begin after exams."
Harry exhaled shakily—half relief, half simmering frustration at everything that had led to this.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"Oh—sir—one more thing."
"Yes?"
"The diary. Riddle's diary. I need it."
Dumbledore arched a brow. "The diary was destroyed."
Harry hesitated.
"Not all of it. There's still the cover. The empty shell. It—it might be useful. I want to use it."
Dumbledore gave him a long, piercing look.
"For what purpose, Harry?"
Harry's jaw set.
"To save someone."
The portraits gasped.
Fawkes let out a questioning trill.
Dumbledore merely raised a thoughtful eyebrow.
Harry leaned forward urgently.
Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"Yes, Harry. You may have the remains of the diary."
Harry exhaled in relief.
But Dumbledore's eyes twinkled—not with amusement, but with something far sharper.
"Just remember, Harry… even the smallest victories matter. You are not defined by tonight."
Harry looked down.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But one thing was certain:
He wasn't going to let Cassius stay miles ahead of him again.
Not ever.