I've been spending hours upon hours more than usual in the library looking through things that shouldn't bother me as much as they are, thing's that mightn't be true, even, yet here I am surrounded by books on different famous wizarding blood lines trying to find anything that might answer the question that's been buzzing about in my brain since Malfoy brought it to light.

Were my eyes truly glowing? How on this earth could they? It isn't possible, right?

I've been over countless different possibilities in my head, and even have a few catalogued on a lengthy piece of parchment, all ranging from 'a trick of the light' to 'Malfoy may have been in shock' and even 'the Forest can change a person once they've entered', each coming to sound more likely as the books on older blood families I've been able to find dwindles to less and less.

'Amethyst – A pure-blood linage renown for their peculiar eye colouration and healing abilities.' said Old Wizarding Families: A to Z. 'Amethyst – A family name passed to only the witches of blood who bare the curse of abnormality.' said Blood Names And Their Respective Curses, which I decided was completely off, and even 'Amethyst – Most recognisable by the distinct colour of lilac that encases the iris' of all the Amethysts female descendants.' There's nothing anywhere that has an answer!

"Y/N?" I hear from behind me suddenly while still glancing over The Wizarding Word's Family Name Dictionary. I turn suddenly to come face to face with Harry, who's looking somewhat uncomfortable, and I suppose that's due to the fact I probably look like I haven't slept... because, in actuality, I haven't. "What are you doing here? Me, Ron, and Hermione have split up looking for you 'cause you weren't at breakfast. Hermione said you left before she got up this morning?"

I sigh and close the book's heavy cover as Harry takes a seat at the table with me. I trace my fingers over the book's cover waiting for him to lecture me like I'm sure Mione's going to when I see her and she realises just how early I got up this morning.

"Are you okay?" he asks instead of scolding, and I look to him with a distant smile.

"I guess – I'm just... I'm confused is all. I just want answers. You'd know what that's like better than most, Harry," I answer truthfully. "I've been thinking a lot lately is all."

"How long have you been here today?"

"Um, well, I'm assuming breakfast's over, so I'd say maybe five or six hours?" I mumble, and Harry immediately looks taken aback by my answer.

"How much sleep did you get?"

"None, if I'm being honest – look, Harry, I understand that you guys are confused, but I've just got to persist with this, okay? I need answers."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks after a long pause and an understanding head nod. He's currently staring at his own hands as if I'm going to tell him I'd rather eat moulded cheese. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you want to, we can."

I smile and sigh once more. I lean forward and pick up all the read books from in front of me and gesture for him to follow me. Him, being the kind boy he is, takes half of the stack from my arms and I smile thankfully as he dutifully follows me from shelf to shelf so I can return them.

"I've been thinking about what Malfoy said in the Forbidden Forest, you remember? After I came to find you?"

Harry had told Hermione, Ron, and I how he'd come to find Firenze the centaur and what he'd seen drinking the unicorn's blood the next morning after our detention in the Common Room following breakfast. He said about the hooded figure and how it must have been what he, Hagrid and I had heard before finding Ronan and Bane. Said about how Firenze had scared it away from him when it had come towards him and about him meeting Ronan and Bane again after Firenze had offered to walk him back to us. Told us how he's certain it was Lord Voldemort drinking the unicorn's blood.

"Yeah, about your eyes, right?"

"Right. Well, I've been looking through everything I can, but there's nothing on it anywhere! There isn't even that much written that I don't already know, or more than is already publicly common knowledge, and I've been trying to convince myself that Malfoy was just seeing things but there's something telling me he wasn't and it's all a big mess..."

"You mean you didn't know your eyes could do that before that night?" His answer surprises me, and I accidentally drop the book I'm holding to the floor. I mutter an oops before retrieving it again and then replying.

"So you believe him? You don't think he was seeing things?"

"I saw it," he replies, and this time after dropping the book again, he's the one to pick it up as I'm stood still in disbelief.

"What do you mean, you saw it?" I finally utter. "And why didn't you say so sooner?"

"Well I don't know all that much about the magic world yet, and I guess I thought you knew and that you just didn't want Malfoy making fun of you or something and that's why you denied it and all," he rushes out. "I thought it might just be normal."

"I – as far as I'm aware it's never happened before... it has to be something to do with my blood, right? What was it like? What did you see?"

"Well, Malfoy was talking like they were glowing brightly, but when I saw you they were just starting to go out, kind of like a candle after it's gotten too low, you know? Uh – did your, um, mum tell you anything about it?"

Harry's never one to bring up my mum, as I'm sure he understands very well just how hard it is to hear. He's just as hesitant as Hermione is about it, though she's more so, and Ron never brings it up, so the fact he is catches my attention. He's honestly really trying to have a decent conversation here and help me figure this out, and I smile warmly at him as he looks quite a bit hesitant towards my reaction of his question. He looks relieved.

"No... I used to ask a lot when I was younger, but she always said that when I'm thirteen, then she'll tell me everything. Her mum told her when she was thirteen, and so on for generations. I think it has something to do with our, well, healing thingy beginning to form or something, but I guess... I don't think I'll ever find out now, Harry..."

Both Harry and I remain silent as we both digest my realisation. I shake my head and then continue placing my books away, but Harry's still stood in place looking to the ground, seemingly deep in thought. After placing the last book away, I move back over to him, take the remainder from his hands and shake his shoulder a little.

"You all right, Harry?"

"Yeah," he stammers after coming out of thought again. "I was just – I'm really sorry about all this."

"It's okay – nothing was your fault. It isn't as though you were the one who hid everything from me after all. Don't worry about it, okay? And don't worry about me, either. We've got exams coming up quickly and you need to be focusing on that, not me and my problems."

"We're friends, Y/N, and it's our job to worry for you when you're upset. Don't think like you'll never find out, because who knows? There could be someone out there who has the answers you're looking for about your family, right? You bring up old family friends a lot from other parts of the world."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I don't think I'm going to find what I'm looking for in any book – or at least any book in this library. Maybe during the summer I can look around my house a little and try and find something more, or perhaps I can ask Connie if she knows anything about my mother and how the Amethysts work... Thanks, Harry, I actually feel much better with your saying that," I smile out happily.

Truth is, I've checked every inch of my house, and Connie swears up and down she doesn't know anything... those friends from different places are just that, family friends, and if I, someone with said blood flowing through my veins doesn't know about it, then what hope do I have that any of them would know anything? Harry seems convinced in my mood switch though, and for the sake of not worrying he or the others further, I'll stay quiet about it from now on.

~~~{...Ӂ...}~~~

The days crept by quickly as exams approached and proceeded, and so did the days that Fluffy could still be heard behind the door meaning that Snape hadn't yet gotten his hands on the Stone, though even though I've been, and the others have been, keeping an eye on the dog's guarding continuity, I've been trying to let the Stone and what's revolving around it rid itself from my head. What good has it done us so far, after all? None. I've just got to trust that Dumbledore will figure out what the greasy, long-legged, hooked-nosed man is truly up to in time.

The exams' written portions had been terrible to endure, not because of the work itself, but because of all the bodies piled into the one room making it immensely hot, which irritated me to no end through out the entirety of them.

Our practical exams were much different, though not quite as satisfying as writing against parchment, which I've always found myself enjoying a little too much for a child of eleven. The practical sessions were interesting though nonetheless.

Professor Flitwick had us charm a pineapple to tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall had us transfigure a mouse into a snuff-box, to which I made mine ornate for the extra points given for their prettiness. Snape breathed down all our necks while we cooked up a Forgetfulness Potion.

I noticed a little ways through the exam period that Harry was becoming increasingly more tired as though he hasn't been sleeping properly. Neville told me he'd been up through multiple nights and he thought it was all nerves revolving the exams, but with a good long chat about letting me help him as he helped me, Harry revealed he's been having terrible nightmares and that his scar has been somewhat hurting him since our trip into the Forbidden Forest.

"You need to try and get some proper sleep, harry," I'd told him. "I know it's hard, especially as what you're dreaming is horrible, but it'll do you no good keeping yourself awake at night to avoid them, you know that. It isn't healthy."

"I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't him, Y/N, but it is – You don't know what it's like to see him in my sleep every night," he'd replied sadly.

"I know," I said slowly. "I know, Harry... it's all horrible, and I understand that, and I may not see him in the night, but I do know what its like to try and fight sleeping to escape the places our brains take us... I'm going to make you something, alright? Can you promise me you'll try it just for the rest of exams?"

He'd agreed after I'd showed him the Sleeping Draught I used to make for my mum when she'd needed it, not that I told him what I'd made it for when I was younger, I stayed as vague as possible about it, but I was so happy when he'd agreed to trying it, and the day after trying it the first time, he already seemed much better than what he'd been before.

I let my worry for him simmer down, but made sure not to let on that it was still effecting me on top of wondering profusely about why my eyes had done what they had, and after days of working hard and hours of sitting bent over a parchment or cauldron, we finally finished up our final exam, which was History of Magic, and with a loud cheer from the entirety of our year, we were done.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," says Hermione as we make our way with the other students outside into the sun, finally rid of the exam anxiety and looming pressure. "I needn't have learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"I told you, you wouldn't," I tease her, and she shoves me playfully with a happy laugh.

We walk until we come across a wide tree by the Black Lake that's casting plenty of shade to shield us from the hot sun. A little bit closer to the shore is Ron's mischievous brothers and Lee Jordan messing about with the giant squid that's resting in the shallows. We each drop ourselves to the grassy ground with pleased sighs and take in the pleasantness of our surroundings.

"No more revision," Ron sighs happily with his eyes closed, small sun-spots brushing his cheeks where the sun's managing to creep slightly through the canopy of large, freshly-sprouted leaves. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

I'm about to retort reminding Ron that his exclamation about no more revision applies solely to this year and that there's not much more of said year left now, but his calling out Harry's mood shifts my attention from him and to the boy with glasses, and Ron's right, he does look troubled again, and I'm fairly certain I know why.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he bursts finally after rubbing at his forehead forcefully. "My scar keeps hurting – it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," suggests Hermione.

"I don't think that'll work, Mione," I mutter, keeping a close eye on Harry.

"I'm not ill," he speaks quickly. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry leaves it be with a nod, but doesn't at all look completely convinced, and I think I'm beginning to feel the same way. There has to be a reason that his scar is acting the way it is, and it has to have something to do with the Stone. What else?

"I just feel like there's something I've forgotten..."

"That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd already done that one," says Hermione.

Harry nods again, but the thoughts swirling around his eyes suggests he's far from sure its got anything to do with exams, and it has me thinking as well. There's got to be something we're missing here if he's feeling like this, right? Something that's hidden right under our noses... Maybe we'd have a better chance of understanding it all if we hadn't had to deal with Hagrid's dragon, but-

"Harry!" I exclaim, and it looks like he's almost caught onto my thought as soon as I've voiced them. He looks to me quickly and I tell him what I've just realised. "How convenient it must be to come across a dragon breeder here where having them is illegal," I say slowly. His eyes widen and I suppose I've just handed him the small fragment he was missing within his own theories he's conjuring up in that head of his.

"You're brilliant!" he calls before jumping too his feet, which startles Ron and Mione from their heat-induced rest causing both to jump. I jump up too and follow after him.

"Where are you going?" Ron questions from where his is still on the ground.

"I've just thought of something, and Y/N's helped me realise that – we've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" Pants Mione as she's trying to keep our pace.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," says Harry, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law?"

"It's awfully lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think?" I continue on. "Seems awfully convenient to find someone willing to take such a thing. Why didn't we see this before?"

"What are you two on about?" Ron asks, but Harry nor I answer as we take to sprinting towards Hagrid's hut instead, and sitting outside of the hut is Hagrid himself, shelling peas into a huge bowl.

"Hullo," he greets us as we clamber towards him. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," begs Ron as he huffs and puffs relentlessly.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?" asks Harry quickly.

"Dunno," Hagrid replies, "he wouldn' take his cloak off." As he gauges our reaction to his answer, he quickly tries to defend it. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's one of the pubs down at the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" I question the large man.

"Mighta come up," he frowns in thought. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

I gasp and smile brightly realising we've just filled in a lot of the missing blanks we've been stumbling around. No doubt he accidentally let slip how to get past Fluffy whilst drunk, right? He looks at me strangely, as does Ron, before Harry questions Hagrid again.

"And did he – did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

"Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep-" He suddenly cuts himself off with a horrified look. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that! Forget I said it! Hey – where're yeh goin'?"

We don't answer, we've all jumped up understanding the dire situation at hand fully, and have begun sprinting our way back up to the castle. None of us speak a word, our heads all filled with thoughts, until we finally come to rest back within the Entrance Hall.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore. Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak – it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?" Harry says all at once.

"I'm not sure," I answer. "We'll just have to-" I'm, however, cut off by Professor McGonagall's voice floating through the room.

"What are you four doing inside?" She's carrying a large pile of books with her as she walks towards us, her eyebrows furrowed.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione informs her, and I smile at her forwardness towards one of her professors. She has most certainly changed since our year began.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" she asks perplexed. "Why?"

No one answers this time, until Harry finally draws up the courage, "It's sort of a secret." His answer, however, only causes Professor McGonagall to turn and angry eye on us, her expression reading annoyance. She answers anyway, though.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago and flew off to London."

"He's gone?" Harry calls alarmed. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time-"