A/N: well, looks like I'll be continuing this story to the Half Blood Prince! We've got a fair bit of action coming up, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Newt shivered slightly, pulling his Hufflepuff scarf tighter around his neck as he walked down onto the grounds, the snow crunching beneath his feet. His breath came out as a white mist, and he smiled slightly at the sight of the forbidden forest, which with the snow, now looked like a forest full of Christmas trees.

The weather was freezing, by now the lake was iced over with a thin layer of ice that students would be skating or playing on.

Newt continued walking down to the forbidden forest, leaning against a tree as he waited for his class to arrive.

It didn't take long for him to spot the group of students, all wearing coats and scarves, walking across the grounds to where he was.

Once he'd checked that everyone was there, he spoke.

"Alright! Well, we'll be working in here today," Newt gestured towards the dark depths of the forest. "So follow me, and don't get lost."

Some of the students were whispering, terrified looks on their faces, and Neville looked like he was about to faint. Harry and Draco however, knew that they both didn't have much to fear in the forest.

The class followed Newt, a few students shrieking in fear as a rabbit ran across the track they were walking along. Harry and Draco however, were more worried about the professor leading the group than the rabbit running across the track.

He looked much worse than he had before, he honestly looked like he was about to keel over. He seemed generally weak and pale, and he looked rather ill. He looked as if it pained him to try and smile.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached a large clearing.

"You can leave your bags and stuff over there," Newt pointed to a small crowd of trees, the students doing as he said and dropping their bags.

Newt drew in a deep breath, cupping his hands over his mouth and letting out a rather inhuman sounding shriek. All of the students were either too confused to speak, or too terrified at the prospect of being in the forest that they'd heard evil tales about since they were first years.

After a few seconds, Harry and Draco's eyes widened in awe. Harry frowned slight in recognition, recognising the beasts that were slowly venturing into the clearing.

They were pitch black, their skin scaly and stretched over thin, bony bodies. They had the basic structure of a large horse, yet a rather dragon like head. Bat wings sprouted from their shoulders, the majority of the creatures flapping them nervously.

Harry could see the rest of the students simply looking around in confusion.

"Maybe Newt should do that thing again," Ron whispered.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked quietly. "They're right there."

"What is?"

"You can't see them?"

"Can't see what?"

"The horse things."

Ron simply frowned, looking at him as if he was crazy. Harry turned to Draco, who had his eyes trained on the creatures. He wasn't going insane, Draco could clearly see them, as could Newt it would appear.

The majority of the rest of the class were wearing the same, confused and worried expressions.

"Now, I'd like everyone who can see them to put their hands up," Newt spoke.

Gingerly, Harry and Draco both raised their hands. Harry saw another hand raised, quickly recognising it to be Neville.

"See what?" Parvati Patil asked, sounding terrified and frustrated.

Newt reached into his blue coat, pulling out a piece of meat. No one questioned it, they'd all gotten used to their professor's strangeness. He tossed the piece of meat, and Harry and Draco both saw the beast catch it and begin eating it hungrily.

Everyone else gasped, only being able to see the meat disappearing into thin air.

"Thestrals!" Newt said. Hermione's eyes lit up. "Hogwarts has a whole herd of them here. Now, who knows-?"

"But they're really, really unlucky," Parvati interrupted. "Professor Trelawny told us that they're supposed to bring bad fortune-"

"No, no, that's just silly superstition," Newt said. "They're just clever, and actually rather useful. They usually pull the carriages here. Now, who can tell me why some people can see them, and why others cannot?"

Hermione raised her hand, Newt nodding at her. "Because only people who've seen death can see Thestrals."

Draco tried his hardest to keep his expression neutral. He'd lost count of the many, many times he'd been forced to watch his father kill someone, forced to watch the light leave their eyes. His father thought it would toughen him up, but to show a young child something like that only severely traumatised him.

"That's right. Now, Thestrals-"

"Hem hem."

Newt visibly flinched at the sound, turning tiredly to face the woman who'd entered the clearing.

"You received the note I sent that I'd be inspecting your class today?" She asked, smiling sweetly.

"Sadly," Newt muttered under his breath, simply nodding at her and turning back to the creatures. "So, Thestrals-"

"What did you say?" Umbridge asked, everyone able to tell that she was simply trying to antagonise the poor professor who looked as if he was at a loss of what to do.

"Thestrals. You know, big winged horses. Right, well Hogwarts started off with a herd of one male and five females. This one," he went up and patted the largest of the Thestrals. "Is called Tenebrus. He was the first one born here in the forest-"

"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly. "That Thestrals are classified as dangerous?"

Newt closed his eyes for a second, simply wondering why he bothered for a moment before looking up to meet her gaze. "I can give one a hug if you'd like."

A few of the students snickered, Harry grinning.

"Or I could even ride one around the clearing, whatever would make you feel safest, Professor," he sneered. Umbridge merely glared at him before scribbling on her pink clipboard.

"Now, Thestrals aren't dangerous," Newt said as calmly as he could manage. "Sure," he said with a small, forced smile. "They'll take a bite out of you if you annoy them too much-"

"Shows...signs...of...pleasure...at...idea...of...violence..." Muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.

Newt just bit his lip, honestly feeling like he was about to lose his mind. He eyed the professor as she walked towards Draco, the werewolf frowning in disgust.

"You can see the Thestrals, Malfoy, can't you?" She asked in her sickly sweet voice, Newt trying to continue the lesson while still listening.

"Yes," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Who did you see die?" Her tone was indifferent and obnoxious, still looking at her clipboard.

Draco visibly flinched, eyes growing wide. He frowned, feeling his breathing quicken slightly. He didn't want to relive all the repressed memories and emotions that he'd kept under lock and key for his entire life. His eyes stung with tears that he refused to let fall.

"That's enough!" Newt snapped, walking over. "What exactly do you think gives you the right to ask students personal questions like that?!" It was clear the professor was livid, rage in his eyes.

"I'm merely doing my job, Professor-"

"Well then do it somewhere else," Newt spat, the Thestrals now letting out shrieks of anger too. "You aren't welcome here if you think that's a fine way to behave. I can live with you antagonising me, but not my students."

Umbridge stared at him, her eyes wide. Harry was half expecting her to simply explode, as he face was turning a dark shade of red.

"I see," she muttered, scribbling something down. "Good day."

And with that she left, leaving Newt to glare after her. "Class is dismissed," he said tiredly, all the students nodding hastily and grabbing their bags. Once the clearing we empty, all the students following the track back out of the forest, he sank to the ground, sighing.

He watched the Thestrals play for a few minutes, the beasts now calmed that Umbridge had left. Eventually, they took off into the woods, leaving the professor on his own to ponder what he was going to do next.

******

"That twisted, old, evil gargoyle!" Hermione spat as they walked back up to the castle.

Draco was still silent, walking ahead of the group once they reached the castle and out of sight.

"Newt looks like he's losing it," Ron murmured.

"But what he said is exactly right, she isn't allowed to ask students stuff like that!" Hermione fumed. "It wasn't even a bad lesson, Thestrals are really interesting. And just because Newt's a bit...well, disturbed-"

"Who do you think he saw die?" Ron asked, frowning as he thought. Harry didn't speak, feeling a bit bad for talking about the professor behind his back.

"Probably a lot of people," Hermione's voice was quiet all of a sudden. "I mean, he was in the first wizarding war, wasn't he?"

"What?!" Ron and Harry said at once. "Where'd you find that out?" Harry asked.

"I read about it. His brother, Theseus, was a war hero apparently. He worked on the front lines, with dragons. It's pretty amazing actually, they had all the records in a book in the library. He was thirteen or something."

"Thirteen years old, and working with dragons in a war? No wonder he's a bit messed up," Ron murmured.

******

December rolled around, bringing an avalanche of snow and homework with it. Harry had built a mini Mount Everest out of the ever growing pile of assignments on top of his coffin, and was slowly working his way through it.

For the first time in all of his school years, he was excited at the prospect of spending Christmas away from Hogwarts. With his Quidditch ban, and now the news that Hagrid might also be put on probation, he was feeling rather resentful towards the place.

Hermione had told them that she was going skiing with her parents for the holidays, something that Ron found rather amusing as the idea of strapping thin pieces of wood to slide down mountains on seemed rather stupid to him.

Ron was droning on and on about how excited he was for Christmas this year as they walked to a DA lesson. "And you're coming too, didn't I say? Mum asked me to invite you!"

Harry couldn't hold back a grin at this. Christmas at the Burrow was always fun. "What're you doing for Christmas?" Harry asked, turning to the werewolf who was walking next to him.

"Going to Grimmauld Place, I think. Remus invited me. That, or staying here," Draco replied. Harry nodded, watching Draco open the room of requirement.

Pretty soon the class was in full swing, people yelling Impedimenta across the room at each other. Harry left Draco to practice with the twins as usual, and walked around the room.

Cho beamed at him as he passed, Harry returning the smile somewhat weakly. To him, she was nothing but dinner.

At the end of the hour, Harry signalled that it was time for the class to end. Slowly the students filed out of the room, all wishing him merry Christmases as they passed.

Soon it was just him and Draco left in the room. The werewolf seemed preoccupied staring at the death eater mannequin, a faraway look on his face.

"You okay?" Harry asked quietly, taking Draco's hand in his own and blocking the mannequin from his view.

Draco released a shaky breath before nodding. "I'm fine."

Harry looked upwards, a small smile on his face. "Mistletoe," he murmured, Draco cracking a small smile of amusement. Harry felt Draco's warm breath ghost over his lips as he leaned in, closing his eyes as he pressed their lips together.

******

Harry walked along a dark corridor, the black tiled walls seeming to press upon him. It was silent, the only noise being his own footsteps and the vague sound of someone crying. Yet the noise didn't seem to be coming from anywhere around him, sounding like it was from inside his own head.

He ignored it, and lifted a hand once he reached a door at the end of the corridor.

His arm was covered in blood, a deep gash running along his forearm. He could see bone underneath the mass of blood and flesh, yet he didn't feel pain. He opened the door, walking in.

The room was huge, filled with shelves that housed many objects which were glowing an array of what would have been colours. He could only see in dull shades of black white and grey. He walked along the shelves, feeling ultimately powerful.

He sensed another presence, a grin creeping onto his lips as he saw a man lying against a wall. He was breathing heavily, and looking drowsy.

A crack rang through the air, the man letting out a shriek of agony as his ribs broke, blood spraying from a wound that had appeared on his chest. Harry felt himself laughing, amused by the man's screams and cries for help.

******

Harry awoke with a scream, clutching his forehead as a pain worse than he'd ever experienced ran through his scar, making it feel like his head was about to split open. Still reeling from what he'd just seen, he had to lean over the side of the bed and empty his stomach, the red blood that he'd drank before going to bed splattering onto the floor.

Draco was already wide awake as soon as Harry was jolted from his sleep.

"Harry?!" He said, panicked. "Harry, are you okay-"

Before he even finished his sentence he realised what a stupid question it was. The vampire was shivering and shaking, tears streaming down his face, one hand still pressed to his scar. His eyes were wide and terrified, redness still dotting his lips from when he'd thrown up.

"Okay, I'm taking you to the infirmary, or Snape, or Dumbledore," Draco murmured through his own blind panic, getting out of bed and pulling a cloak quickly around his shoulders, grabbing another one and wrapping it around Harry as he picked the vampire up. Harry was shaking to badly to even attempt to stand, and was still unresponsive.

"Severus!" Draco snapped, kicking the office door with his foot. Harry was still a shaking wreck, his face buried in Draco's shirt as he cried silently.

"What?!" The potions master replied. His face was red with rage at being woken up at such an ungodly hour of the night, his hair a mess.

"He's been having nightmares since the school year started, and he woke up ten minutes ago vomiting, and he won't speak, and he won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do-" Draco rambled uselessly, feeling utterly helpless because he didn't know what to do with his mate to make him feel better.

Snape took one look at the shivering boy in Draco's arms before speaking. "We're going to see Dumbledore."

Draco huffed as he tried to catch up to Snape, who was walking quite rapidly, both of their cloaks billowing out behind them.

"Why haven't you or Harry asked for help about the nightmares?" Snape asked through gritted teeth.

"W-Well, he was holding a grudge against Dumbledore or something-"

"Did you try any sleeping spells or anything of the sort?"

"Well we did, but he still woke up screaming and nearly concussed himself on the lid of his coffin," Draco murmured. "So we didn't really try those again."

"That should have been the moment you went to a teacher then!" Snape snapped. "Even Madame Pomfrey, or Newt for God sakes-"

Snape interrupted his rant by muttering the password to the headmaster's office, watching the stone statue spin and revealing a staircase that they quickly went up. Snape threw open the door without hesitation.

Dumbleore was still awake, sitting at his desk and scratching a quill on a piece of parchment. He looked up as soon as they entered, frowning.

"Severus? What-"

"He's had a nightmare, it's bad," Draco cut the headmaster off, sitting Harry in an empty chair and wrapping the cloak tighter around Harry's still shaking form. Dumbledore frowned in worry.

"Severus, go and fetch Professor McGonagall, Newt, and anyone else that may be of importance."

Snape nodded before leaving the room.

"Is he unresponsive?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco nodded.

"Try to get him back to his senses," Dumbledore said, walking over to the balcony, a concerned look written all over his face.

"Harry?" Draco asked quietly, taking the boy's face in his hands and searching his empty red eyes. "Harry, can you hear me?"

He received no response, the vampire didn't even blink. "Harry, please, just-just..." Draco trailed off helplessly, leaning his forehead against Harry's and closing his eyes. What a useless mate he was, he couldn't even help the person who mattered most to him.

******

"Wha-?!" Newt was shocked out of his dozing, still sitting at his desk. Piles and piles of assignments and other random papers and books were strewn across the polished oak surface, along with various trinkets cluttering up the space. The sneakoscope he'd smashed by throwing it against the wall still remained in a pile of broken glass shards on the floor, the unmoving, twitching silhouette no longer visible in the murky depths of the glass.

The man himself, like his workspace, was a complete mess. His hair was wild, bow tie undone and hanging uselessly, coat thrown over one of the couches carelessly.

"Yes, I'm coming!" He yelled at whoever was causing such a racket by furiously hammering on his door. Yawning, he grabbed his coat and his wand, opening the door, frowning at who was standing on the other side. "Good... Well, night, Professors," he murmured, eyeing Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Professor Dumbledore has requested your presence in his office," Snape answered in a rather dry tone, turning on his heel and walking down the hall, leaving Newt to run after them while trying to pull on his coat.

"What does he want at two in the morning?!" Newt hissed.

"Potter had a nightmare, apparently they're pretty bad and he's unresponsive so far," Snape replied, still walking in front, leaving Newt and McGonagall to exchange worried glances. It didn't take them long to reach the stone statue, which immediately turned to let them in.

******

Harry had only been snapped out of his trance for hardly thirty seconds, and wasn't able to utter much more than a few words.

"I-I watched him being attacked," Harry spoke quietly. "It was so real, it wasn't like my other nightmares."

"Who? Who was being attacked?" Draco asked softly, Dumbledore and Draco waiting for a reply as three Professors entered the room.

"M-Mr Weasley."

Draco frowned. "Do you know where?"

"It looked like the department of mysteries," Harry mumbled, pulling the cloak tighter around himself. "I remember it from the court session."

"Do you know who was attacking Mr Weasley, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry winced, as if the memory pained him. "I don't know his name. I know I used to, I just can't remember," Harry murmured. He lifted his head, finally acknowledging the other people in the room.

McGonagall gasped, stricken at his pale grey skin and dark red eyes. No one paid her any heed, simply watching as Harry blinked, eyes widening slightly as he stared at Newt.

"Ezra, or-or whatever else he was called. The boy who I attacked during the Christmas holidays last year."

Newt seemed to crumble at this, his face draining of any colour. Snape opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, a loud crack echoed through the office. Newt Scamander no longer stood with them in the office.

Snape let out a frustrated growl. "He's going to get himself killed."

"Minerva, please, if you could go and wake up all the Weasley's and alert their mother, ask her if Arthur is alright," Dumbledore spoke, the witch nodding hastily before leaving the room.

Snape waved his wand, Harry's skin returning to its snowy white, his eyes turning back to green. Draco pulled the vampire into his arms, holding him tightly, afraid to let him go.

******

The department of mysteries was dark. The hallways didn't have any visible lights, and the pitch black tiles lining every surface didn't help either.

Newt's own eerie looking shadow was cast onto the shiny floor from the light at the end of his wand, the Lumos spell keeping him in a little circle of light as he walked. The corridor seemed to go on forever, his shoes echoing slightly on the floor with every step.

It was cold, a chilling sort of cold that made him want to shiver. Despite his internal warnings, he kept walking until he reached a door.

It was a huge door, foreboding and pitch black, like everything else in the lower levels. He frowned at the lock, holding his wand close to it.

It was a handprint lock, magically induced to tell who was qualified to enter this unit of the ministry and who wasn't. He bit his lip.

Alarms would most certainly go off if he tried to force his way through, and despite the fact that Mr Weasley was probably being attacked, he doubted that would help his case horribly much if he was caught.

Taking a breath, he pressed his own hand to the lock, wincing and waiting for the worst.

The door clicked, and swung open. Newt's eyes widened, wondering why his handprint was still in the Ministry register. Sure, he'd worked here, but that was around eighty years ago at this point.

Strengthening his Lumos spell, he walked forwards.

This room was huge, seeming to stretch on forever, the black tiles seeming to continue until they reached oblivion. Huge shelves were lines along the room, all filled with glowing crystal balls, white mist swirling around in all of them. Because of these, the room was better lit, but he kept his wand out and lit up just in case.

He started walking again, slower this time. He looked down every shelf, shining the light from his wand, quickly becoming desperate. Arthur could be dead by now.

"Well hello there," a voice rang out, echoing at Newt from all directions, making him stop dead in his tracks and freeze, eyes widening in horror. "Long time, no see."

Newt whirled around in a circle, his blue coat flying out behind him as he did so, searching anxiously for the person who the voice belonged to, although he already knew.

The voice laughed. "You know what? Arthur is quite boring. Maybe you'll be more fun."

Newt gritted his teeth. "Where are you?! What do you want?!"

"I want to play a game," his voice sent chills up Newt's spine. "Let's see, can you find Arthur before I catch you?"

Newt stood perfectly still, not daring to move. Silence reigned for a few seconds.

"Tick tock, tick tock," the voice whispered, seemingly directly in his ear.

Without hesitation, Newt sprang forward, sprinting down the aisle of crystal balls, wand in hand. The room seemed to stretch on forever, his legs aching and chest heaving, his mind telling him that he desperately needed to rest.

He could hear his own feet pounding on the tiles, each breath he drew in was choked. He didn't know how much longer he could keep running.

The decision was made for him as a blast of magic threw him into one of the shelves, a crack ringing out as his arm broke. His other hand was impaled by a shard of glass from a shattered crystal ball, blood flowing down his hand.

Newt let out a cry of pain, shoulders heaving as he sat up. His arm was definitely broken, throbbing and aching mercilessly as he cradled it to his chest. His other hand was bloodied with a sharp shard of glass embedded into it, the glass poking out the other side. The sight made him nauseous, his hand trembling as he fought back the urge to vomit.

"Found you," a voice called, Newt looking up.

Credence was sitting on the shelf opposite him, at the top. Except... It wasn't Credence.

He had the same face, the same body, but that was about it. His eyes were pitch black and empty, his skin white as a sheet. A large gash ran along his neck, as did one on his arm. His forehead was cut open, but he didn't seem to feel any pain from the injuries. His voice was deeper, more demonic. The silver ring still remained on his left hand.

"C-Credence?"

"Nope," the boy replied. "I'm not your precious husband. He's still around... somewhere."

"Who are you then?" Newt managed to speak through gritted teeth, his hand burning from the wound.

"A manifestation," he answered. "A protection? I'm not sure. He withdrew into his mind when it all got too much, so I took over. They called me Lucifer."

Lucifer. Newt squared his jaw. They'd renamed him after the devil.

"Then let him have his body back," Newt said desperately. "Please."

"He isn't strong enough," Lucifer replied, draping his legs over the side of the shelf and leaning on an elbow. "He hasn't recovered. Well, he had, before he stabbed himself in the neck. So now I'm back. When he is strong enough, then he can return. That is, if he decides he has the willpower to do so."

"So you're not imprisoning him?"

"Why would I?" Lucifer asked with a small laugh, a chilling sound that held no real mirth. "It'd be pointless on my part. He is stronger than me, just not at the moment."

"Why're you killing so many people then?!"

"Because I can, it's what I do and no ones going to be able to stop me."

"You're disgusting," Newt whispered, tears running down his cheeks. "You take that back."

"No," Lucifer replied easily. "I shouldn't have to apologise for the monster I am. No one ever apologised for making me this way."

Newt's eyes widened. That sounded more like Credence's voice than Lucifer's.

"Are you going to kill me then?"

Lucifer looked contemplative. "Hmm... No, I suppose I won't, even though you lost the game. That man is seven more aisles down, you may save him if you wish."

He stood up, giving Newt a final calculating look, as if he was thinking. "Until next time."

There was a large puff of black smoke, and he had gone. Newt drew in a deep breath before staggering to his feet. He could figure it out later, Arthur was more important.