"You're early," he said, looking distinctly nervous.

             "I see no point in wandering the school when my patient needs me," I responded coldly.

             "Dumbledore said you might have that reaction. Volkova all but predicted it."

             "You let her in there?" I gasped, trying to push my way past Lupin. He shouldered me carefully back.

             "She was here, but she's gone. I can't let you in yet, " he insisted.

             "Why not? This was his plan from the start, wasn't it?" I hissed. Lupin shouldered me back again.

             "Severus, Harry has hit you three times with a very powerful charisma spell. You may not understand this, but the Headmaster feels you need to be separated from Harry for a few hours to clear your head. It's for your own protection."

             "Don't make me get my wand out, Lupin," I warned.

             "How closely did you look in the mirror this morning?" he asked.

             "What does that have to do with anything?" I spat back.

             "You've got a love bite on your neck," he said lowly. I put my hand on my neck and felt my color rising. "Harry bit you.”

             "He couldn't possibly convert me," I said hesitantly. "You're mistaken. His reversal is nearly complete. I'm in no danger from the boy."

             "Maybe he's not trying to convert you," Lupin said. "He's clearly too attached to you though."

             "Define 'too attached'."

             “The point at which my godson is sucking on your neck,” Lupin glowered. “Dumbledore thought, and Volkova agreed, that for your own protection, you should have time away from Harry. Unfortunately, you're back too soon."

             "Remus, step away from the door," I ordered.

             "Don't do anything stupid, Severus," he cautioned, steeling himself for fear that I was going to rush at him. I pulled my wand out slowly, taking a step back from him. "Severus....."

             "Step away from the door," I ordered again, taking another step back and putting my hand against the wall to my left. A second too late, he realized what I was up to.

             "SNAPE!!" Lupin howled, pounding on the concealed door I had opened as it slammed shut in his face. I stepped through my hidden workshop and touched the door that would allow me to enter my bedroom.

             A wild whirl of stray books and loose leaves of paper nearly clobbered me as I entered. The lamp and sconces were brightly lit, and where the bed should be there was nothing but a smashed frame and a hopelessly-tangled pile of bedcovers. The contents of the mattress were strewn about, and a splatter of blood was under the pillows. The rest of the furniture was crammed haphazardly against the bedroom door. The bookshelves had been tipped, and the books not sailing around the room were stacked with the furniture, multi-colored bricks in a wall that shivered with each pounding it received from the other side.

             "Harry!" I screamed, lifting my wand to drop the flying books to the ground. They landed with the muffled crinkling of paper pages. The shrunken heads that had been on the bookshelves were cowering in one of the dresser drawers. It shot open, and they bounced across the floor, headed for the bathroom. I was not quick enough to catch any of them before the door slammed. "Harry!!" I called again.

             "The lights," Harry responded. "I can't overpower Dumbledore's magic. Please! He won't turn them off. Please help me!”

             I gaped above my head, lowering my wand as I stared. Harry was clinging to the ceiling by no apparent means. His hands were shielding his face. He was shaking and wildly-disheveled. His wrists were both bruised, as was one ankle, and he was speckled with droplets of blood.

             "Severus, do not interfer," Dumbledore called from outside the door that led to the outer room.

             "You're going to blind him," I yelled at the door. I raised my wand and concentrated on lowering the lights, but didn't have any better luck overpowering the Headmaster than Harry had been having.

             "Severus," Dumbledore warned. Harry closed his eyes, and I could feel the rush of his magic as he concentrated on the lights. The bulbs in the lamp and the sconces shattered, and the fireplace extinguished itself with a ghostly gasp of sound. Harry was panting from exertion, but he had accomplished his goal. The room was utterly dark once more.

             "I can't see," Harry whispered to me, his voice trembling. I reached a hand up to him. He touched my hand, sensing it somehow.

             "Come down," I pleaded, giving the tip of my wand a dim glow.

             "Let us in, Severus," Dumbledore ordered from outside.

             "I don't want them in here. I don't want them near me. Make them all leave,” Harry pleaded. “Just you. I want just you. Only you.”

             "Harry, you don't mean that," Hagrid called. The giant made a push against the door, and Harry dropped gracefully to the floor, countering the move. He raised both arms and pushed with unseen force that shoved the wall of the castle itself another three feet away.

             "Harry, calm down. We're not going to hurt you," Dumbledore soothed.

             "Are you all right?" I asked, tentatively putting a hand on Potter’s arm. "What did they do to you?"

             He turned and put his head against my chest, giving me his left hand.

             "She poured something on my hand," he whimpered. There was a small, circular burn on his left palm. I kissed it tenderly.

             "Come with me," I murmured.

             “And she was trying to perform incantations on me,” he went on. I hushed him as I guided him around the chaos that had been my bedroom towards the concealed door to my hidden lab. At the lab door, I gave him my wand.

             "Neither of these doors will move except to my touch. You're safe in here. Put a dab of this on your palm," I instructed, grabbing a vial from the nearby shelf and taking off the cap. He nodded, climbing unsteadily into the tall chair next to the table. I paused long enough to nuzzle his cheek, and he buried his face against my chest.

             “I didn’t know where you’d gone,” he mumbled.

             "I won't leave again without waking you. I swear."

             I closed the hidden door and made sure the wall was seamless. Dumbledore had reignited the fire in the bedroom hearth. Its cheery glow warmed the cold, windy room. Hagrid was pushing against the bedroom door once more, and it felt like the very foundations of the castle might come apart. Harry's barrier was beginning to collapse. Books cascaded down. The dresser heaved and fell over. I waited until the giant had the door open a crack before I started shouting.

             "WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS LET THAT WOMAN POUR HOLY WATER ON MY PATIENT?!"

             Lupin, Dumbledore, and Hagrid froze where they were. Hagrid had opened the door far enough that I could read their faces. They were case studies in embarrassment and shock.

             "Severus, calm down," Dumbledore urged.

             "Barbarians! Ignorant savages!" I accused. "Were you trying to permanently blind him with all those lights on? What is the meaning of this?"

             "You're under the influence of a powerful charisma spell," Dumbledore cautioned me. "Don't do anything rash."

             I grabbed a vial from inside my cloak, and flung it into their midst. A blinding flash of light lit their space, and it was followed by the very satisfying sound of painful screaming.

             "What the hell was that?" Hagrid bellowed.

             "Perhaps that will give you some idea of how Mr. Potter felt after your violations," I fumed at them. Dumbledore retracted the vial shards and the potion itself, reconstituting it into the palm of his hand. He gave it hesitantly back to me as he opened the door between us.

             "You make it sound as if we were trying to hurt Harry," he retorted, his voice saddened to the core.

             "You don't feel burning and blinding him was hurtful?" I accused.  

             "Professor Volkova said seeing him without you here was the only way to make sure you weren't lying about his condition," Dumbledore began. "We needed to give him a thorough examination without your interference."

             "Medieval nonsense," I scoffed. My heart went cold at those words– thorough examination. The poor child! What had they done to him?!

             "Why did the holy water burn his skin?" Lupin wanted to know.

             "Because the cure involves the use of Le Clair's blood, and if you idiots had bothered to ask me, I'd've told you that holy water will produce a false positive reading until Harry's body processes all the Canis Capellum that he has taken. If Volkova weren't so intent on killing those who have been bitten, she'd study the very-well documented attempts to cure them before she goes around trying to stake people."

             They silently gaped at me. Hagrid and Lupin looked at Dumbledore, and then stared at the mess on the floor in complete embarrassment. Dumbledore was smiling faintly at me. The son of a bitch had known all along. This wasn't about holy water or thorough examinations. This was about whether or not I would come to Harry's defense against them. Dumbledore was testing me. I wanted to claw his eyes out in rage. I could hear his sage words to Neville Longbottom: "It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends."

             "Where's Volkova?" I asked darkly.

             "She's getting her arm mended," Albus replied.

             “Harry dropped the bed on her elbow and shattered it,” Lupin explained.

             “Bloody good for Harry,” I snarled.

             "Where is he? Is he terribly upset?" Hagrid asked. “We weren’t trying to hurt him.”

             "He's blind and bruised, and he's terrified. How upset do you think he is?"

             "We didn't mean to harm him," Remus insisted.

             "We'll leave. See to our patient. Call if you need anything," Dumbledore said.

             "What, like new bedroom furniture?" I snapped, motioning around me.

             "Think of it as a complex puzzle to entertain you until evening," Dumbledore retorted, giving half a smirk to me before walking away.

             "Harry? We're very sorry," Hagrid called loudly. The books and furniture began to levitate, sorting out by the sharpest points. Growling could be heard behind the wall where Harry was hidden. Hagrid watched nervously as the points all turned around and aimed at Lupin and him.

             "We'll wait till he calms down to come back," Remus said sadly. He dug around in his cloak, and located a small, black oval case about eight inches long. He cautiously gave me the case. "New glasses. They're spelled to size to the wearer, and to conform to their specific visual handicap as well. The lenses darken in bright light situations. The frames are absolutely guaranteed not to bend or break."

             "Splendid. If he isn't permanently blind, he's sure to find them useful," I replied haughtily.

             "We didn't mean to harm him in any way," Lupin said sorrowfully.

             "You'll have a hard time convincing him," I scoffed. The points of wood urged Hagrid and Lupin out the door. They mumbled among themselves as they closed the outer door and left. I waited until I heard their footsteps in the corridor before I tried to find the door in the wall to release Harry.

             McGonagall gave Professor Volkova a stern glance, where the Dark Arts Instructor sat almost meekly on her corner of my divan.

             "No matter. I've changed the wards. You will receive the appropriate spell-breaker for security purposes, of course. But no one else will be allowed in unless I am here," I insisted.

             "As you wish," McGonagall agreed.

             "It was never my intention to harm Mr. Potter," Volkova whispered.

             "Whether it was your intention or not, you have," I informed her. She cradled her left elbow in her right hand, looking away sadly.

             "Where is he?" McGonagall asked.

             "Underneath the bed I pulled out of the closet to replace the one you broke with your elbow," I directed my venom at Volkova.

             “That floor is ice cold,” Minerva protested.

             "I couldn't coax him out. Perhaps after he's had some sleep he'll be more open to discussion."

             "Poor mite," McGonagall whispered, shaking her head.

             "I pushed pillows and blankets under to him. He seems to find the small, dark space comforting," I continued. McGonagall winced, and Volkova's eyes brimmed with tears.

             "Reminiscent of his cupboard, no doubt," Volkova whispered. I glared at her, and she dried her eyes on her palm. I wanted to slap her. What could she possibly know, what could she possibly understand about what my Harry had been through?

             "I promise I won’t allow them to side-step you again," Minerva said. “Thank you for the tea. Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

             "I wanted you both to know that I discovered among my student vials one of particular interest."

             Volkova's grip on her cup slipped. She narrowly recovered it before it tipped hot tea in her lap.

             "You've found it?" She caught her breath as I pulled said vial out of my cloak and showed her.

             "I have it by mistake, I'm sure," I said smoothly, watching her eyes fill with dread and relief. McGonagall sipped at her tea, concealing her knowing smile.

             "I should be very much in your debt for its return," Anna offered.

             "I should be very happy to return it to you, in due time."

             "Severus," McGonagall interjected. The look of utter anguish on Volkova's face made up for any of McGonagall's wrath I might have to endure later.

             "I must protest. This is perfectly savage, even for you," Anna muttered. I twirled the vial between my fingers and held it up to the light from the wall sconce. Volkova stared away from me, putting down her tea. I put away the vial, and her eyes bored a hole in my pocket.

             “How very lucky it is you’ve found it,” McGonagall said.

             "What sort of hoops will I have to jump through to get my property back from you?" Anna asked.

             "No hoops. All I want is to know the story behind your precious potion. I am interested in one developed to my own specifications. I understand I have to have at least a fourth of someone else’s bindy to make one of my own."

             Volkova turned ghastly pale with anger. She clenched both fists and ground her teeth.

             "I didn't make it."

             "I know very well you didn't," I smiled at her.

             "Why do you want to know about it?"

             "To determine if it's the kind of bindy that would be useful to me. I'm being prudent," I said.

             "I'm not here to amuse you with tales about my family," she responded, narrowing her eyes at me.

             "Le Clair called it 'Ivan's Charm'. So it must have belonged to someone named Ivan Volkov."

             "Ee-vahn. Not I-Vin," she corrected me.

             "Very well. Tell me about him."

             "He didn't create the potion either. It was a gift from a witch he rescued during the time of one of the Swedish invasions of Poland and Lithuania."

             "Quite special, your bindy," I mused.

             "Quite ancient and special," McGonagall agreed.

             "In my research, I discovered there are several different types of bindies. There are ones for children, with blood from their parents, used to ward away bad dreams and surround them with a sense of comfort and protection. A magical nightlight of sorts. The second type I found is one given between lovers, made with a lock of hair or a few drops of blood from each and split between the two of them. It protects the union against dissolution from outside forces. The third is for priests, to protect them from more worldly temptations. It closely resembles the fabled Gallahad Elixir," I reported.

             I paused and waited for Volkova to pick up the tangent. Would she admit in front of McGonagall that she had successfully created a Gallahad Elixir? I burned to know why Volkova would need both the bindy and the Gallahad, if my theory was correct, and she was carrying both of them.

             "This is an off-shoot of the priestly kind. Ivan's Charm is meant to protect warriors in battle," Volkova side-stepped the challenge. I was surprised at her.

             "All warriors in all battles?" I pressed.

             "No," she admitted.

             "Specific warriors in specific battles?"

             "It's meant to protect pious, consecrated soldiers against attack from the unholy minions of the dark."

             McGonagall's eyes went wide at the feral expression Volkova levelled at me. I couldn't help but smile back at her. It was becoming pretty clear that Anna had spent her time before coming to Hogwarts reading up on me, not in an effort to befriend me on her arrival, but in an effort to find my weaknesses. Had the Deusredeti sent her here to destroy me? Or was my paranoia getting the better of me. Surely I did not rate a second glance from the leaders of her cult?

             "Why would this witch want to protect Ivan Volkov?" I asked.

             "He saved her from undeath."

             "He rescued her from a Swedish vampire?" I tried to sound as skeptical as possible. McGonagall cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at me. I had apparently teased Volkova all McGonagall was going to allow of me.

             "Ivan rescued Felka from Le Clair,” Anna said.

             "This bindy is meant to protect all Volkovs from Henri Le Clair?"

             "It will protect the Volkovi against vampires, evil wizards, or evil vampire wizards."

             "How did Le Clair know you didn't have it?"

             "He can smell it."

             "Why?"

             "Part of him is in it. He can’t come within ten feet of it, or he feels physical pain.”

             Lights went off inside my mind. Had Le Clair's partner Radu been in Algiers to take the charm away from Volkova? How close had he come to succeeding before she killed him? Had Le Clair convinced Radu to take on Volkova, only to lose him in battle to her? Was part of Le Clair’s anger with Volkova born of his own guilt at having sent his lover to take the charm away?

             "I would like to know if your ancestor came by this charm. Please tell me it was not by less than respectable means,” I requested.

             "Fruit of the poisoned tree?" McGonagall questioned. I nodded quickly. Volkova puzzled over the expression.

             "Do you mean to ask if he used violence or force to get the witch to brew the potion?"

             "Yes."

             "No. She made it for him of her own volition."

             "Do you know this for a fact?"

             "If you were to examine the wand it's supposed to be in, you would see her inscription. Protective runes encircle the inside of the silver cap that covers the potion."

             "The witch made it for Ivan out of an urgent desire to protect him because he had saved her life?"

             "Felka made it for Ivan out of gratitude and out of love," Volkova defended. “Why is this of such curiosity to you? Ivan was the first Volkovi to be a vampire hunter. The trade was very much thrust upon him by an unscrupulous priest whose hope it was to see Ivan dead. We were the terror of the region, so I am told. Felka used her magic to create the bindy for Ivan, and the priest had her burned at the stake for her troubles when Ivan returned again and again from battles, having accumulated little more than scratches."

             "Auto de fés were never an effective method for killing witches," McGonagall said. "Simple freezing spells can be employed to counteract—"

             "Fire is more than effective when victims are unconscious and unable to protect themselves. Felka was extremely, sincerely dead when the unscrupulous priest was finished with her. He even had her ashes spread at the crossroads. He went so far as to pour holy water on them. Thought it would make her stay where he had left her."

             "She didn't?"

             "Felka is with me in spirit. She will remain with me until I pass on the wand to my child, at which time she will follow and protect him."

             "You have a child?" Minerva gasped.

             "A son. He'll be eleven come spring."

             "That's why Malchik keeps coming and going," I nodded, finally understanding. "You have him hidden nearby, and she’s looking after him.”

             "Would I be so stupid as to bring him near as this?" Volkova growled.

             "No. He's must be in Venice," I said.

             "At school?" McGonagall questioned.

             "In a matter of speaking," Volkova answered cryptically.

             "He's with the Deusredeti," I decided. “Their main headquarters is in Venice.”

             "How clever you are," Volkova taunted me. "What? Did you think I'd left a small child alone to fend for himself? He is being protected by those I trust."

             "It must have been hard to leave him at all," McGonagall offered. Volkova faltered briefly, steeling herself against what she was feeling. She had not been prepared for Minerva’s tenderness, and was unexpectedly touched by it. How many years had she been asked to go on missions and leave the child behind, no knowing when or if she would see him again?

             "He's grown accustomed to my absence," Anna replied, struggling to keep her face neutral.

             "We should all be so lucky," I muttered.

             "Severus," McGonagall chided me softly.

             "Back to the matter at hand. Your bindy. You Volkovi pass it on from one vampire hunter to the next."

             "Yes."

             "What if one of you died without a blood heir?"

             "I don't follow you."

             "It must have happened at least once in two and a half centuries. What do you do when the current hunter who has the bindy dies without a blood heir?"

             "I'd have to check the List of Bearers and see if this has occurred. Why ask such a curious question?"

             "You're going to be passing part of the bindy on to someone who is not related to you by blood. I need to know if the strength of the potion will remain intact. I want to be prepared for all possibilities. And what if no blood is available? Can you use other body parts? Hair? Teeth? Skin?"

             "Blood creates the strongest bond, but other things have been used in circumstances of hasty transference when no blood was available from the one bound to the potion."

             "One of the texts I found said that if the child receiving the bindy is not related by blood to the person who is giving the potion, that there must be a sanctified blessing from the child's natural parents. This can be done in the form of an incantation, or by blood donation. What about hair, teeth, or skin in this circumstance?"

             "Who exactly do you mean to give the new bindy to?" Volkova dove for the point.

             "Would that have a bearing on your willingness to donate?"

             "You bet your ass it would. Do you mean to keep it for yourself?"

             "No. I wouldn't presume."

             "You're going to give it to Harry?" Minerva asked, her eyes brimming.

             "Yes," I admitted, annoyed I was so transparent to her. McGonagall reached for her hanky, dabbing her misty eyes.

             "I don't know what to say, Severus. I'm so very proud of you."

             "You must desist at once," Volkova said anxiously.

             "Why must I?"

             "In his present condition, if you bind him to the potion, you could kill him."

             "I don't understand. Why do you mean by his present condition?"

             "Ivan's Charm repels Henri Le Clair. If you give one of Henri Le Clair's victims part of Ivan's Charm, if you bind them to even the smallest portion of the bindy within, it will kill them. If you care at all about Harry, you will stop at once with this insane plan, however seemingly altruistic it may be."

             "A little knowledge of potions indeed, Professor Volkova," I smiled at her. "It appears you've studied them a great deal."

             "Don't toy with me, warlock," she hissed. Her pronunciation made it sound like a dire insult. I considered in the space of one second her choice of ' warlock' over either 'sorcerer' or 'wizard', equally applicable but each different in their own right. Of course she'd've gone with 'warlock' for me. Warlock– one who breaks oaths. She clearly meant it as an insult.

             "Once he is fully cured, I could proceed," I insisted.

             "He may never be fully cured."

             "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" I responded. "I must presume the potion is guarded against division without your permission."

             "You need my blood and my permission, which you will not get until I am satisfied that Mr. Potter is fully recovered from Le Clair's bite."

             "What would it take to satisfy you?" I asked.

             At that moment, the fire dimmed, and the floo opened. Potter's owl dropped out and arched her wings to pull herself to a higher vantage point. She circled the room once before she settled next to McGonagall. The Deputy Headmistress unfurled the short scroll attached to Hedwig's leg and read it, pursing her lips.

             "I have to return to Gryffindor Tower. It seems there's a brawl in progress. More of a riot, if I understand this correctly. Can I trust you two alone long enough to settle this matter quietly?"

             "Of course you may," I replied smoothly. My devious mind was already hard at work. If I could get Volkova close enough to Harry, he could charisma her, and I could get her blood that way, break her neck and drain her of her blood. I might even be able to manufacture a convincing tumble down the dungeon stairs to make her demise look somewhat natural.

             "I will be perfectly all right. Good evening, Professor," Volkova said, standing up respectfully. I followed suit, annoyed that I had been beaten to the punch. McGonagall gave me a penetrating look, and I had no question what she was intimating to me. Volkova had better emerge alive and well from my quarters, or there would be hell to pay.

             "Working together would be the best thing in the world for you two. It would help you get over your differences. I have no doubt that you two could even be friends if you tried hard enough," Minerva said before hurrying carefully out of my reach and beyond the threshold of my quarters. Volkova crossed her arms over her chest and watched the door close behind McGonagall before facing me once more.

             "May I see Mr. Potter before I leave?"

             "Absolutely not," I bluffed.

             "I will cause him no harm, I swear to you."

             "Trying to get the chance to pour more holy water on him?"

             "No. I want to reassure him of my good intentions."

             "Aren't you worried he'll break your other arm?"

             "No. That was my fault. I startled him. I never make the same mistake twice."

             "I don't want to disturb him. I'm sure he's blocked the door. Besides, he's likely still under the bed."

             "If he won't come out from under, I'm perfectly willing to lie on the floor to talk with him."

             I taunted her with the vial of potion once again, taking it out of my pocket and studying it closely.

             “No text I’ve found has a complete list of ingredients for the Benedictus in Tenebris. Every one has three or four, and says to consult another text for the rest.”

             “Yes, well, you don’t have access to the same texts that I do. How are you even sure you have the correct ingredients?”

             “Oh, I’m betting that you would have a complete list, which you would be all to willing to give me to, if you want this little jewel back.”

             "I'd have to consult the books that my grandfather gave me.”

             "You could let me study the books. You have classes to teach. I have all the time in the world presently. There are other questions I need answered."

             "Such as?"

             "How fresh does the sample of blood or hair have to be?"

             "Fruit of a poisoned tree, remember? Kill me getting blood or hair, and you nullify any power the bindy might have. Besides, you would still be lacking the most important thing– my verbal permission. My voice unlocks the potion, not just my voice, but a secret series of words in my voice unlocks it.”

             "Naturally. There's always a downside."

             "And you have other obstacles. I am led to believe Mr. Potter's blood relatives are no longer living, with the exception of his aunt. How hard do you think it will be to persuade her to give you what you need?"

             "It will be a Herculean task, one I will probably leave to the Headmaster."

             "If you had bone or hair from either of his parents, it might be enough. Where they are buried?"

             "I don't believe they were buried. They preferred cremation. It's a tradition among those who have served the Headmaster. I do have two strands of hair from Lily.” 

             “That’s not enough. You've no choice but the dreadful Aunt Petunia, I suppose. Does she frighten you?"

             "Considering the emotional and psychological condition of the child in my care, on certain levels, she frightens me extremely."

             "Perhaps I could be persuaded to feel it falls within my jurisdiction to have a mother-to-mother talk with her," Volkova offered. She batted her eyes at me, giving up a smile meant to persuade and charm.

             "At what price?"

             "Give me my bindy back, until such time as we divide it between Mr. Potter and my Sergei."

             "I think not."

             "If you don't, I won't be able to chat with Mrs. Dursley."

             "Why not?"

             "Le Clair has told others I am here. I haven't been able to leave Hogwarts since Mr. Potter was attacked. Either Le Clair told them, or your wife did. Whoever told the vampires, they've been massing in the Dark Forest since Halloween."

             "Your chickens have come home to roost?" I beamed at her. She exhaled her impatience, lifting her nose in disdain at my amusement.

             "I have a considerable price on my head among their kind, if you must know. Every damned one of them is salivating at the idea of bringing me back alive. I've decided to take their adamant intentions against my person as a great compliment to my effectiveness, and to my glorious reputation."

             "I must say it would give me great pleasure to see you made undead. But I'm not hard to please. I would even settle for just plain dead."

             "To think, I was beginning to warm up to you," she huffed. "The Headmaster has been very kind in allowing me to remain at the school in spite of what has happened. It appears he has a history of taking in people of dubious moral quality." 

             "His magnanimity would change if he knew about your Gallahad Elixir."

             "He's perfectly aware of it. So is Professor McGonagall, so there's no point in surreptitiously trying to rat me out to her."

             "Why would you need both of them? Both the Gallahad and the bindy?"

             "Don’t be simple. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I didn't carry Ivan's Charm until after my grandfather was killed. I needed the Gallahad Elixir to protect me until I had Ivan's Charm."

             "The only problem is now you're completely addicted to the Gallahad and you can't stop taking it."