The DA session for Tuesday night was canceled, under the guise that Remus was recovering from an ‘illness’. The core group met instead with Professors Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, and Remus. It was imperative that none of the imposters learned how far they had advanced in the training for Harry and the others. The primary goal at this point was to identify the Hufflepuffs that Goyle and Crabbe were impersonating. The Marauder’s map had been used to identify Flint as Wayne Hopkins, a seventh year Ravenclaw. Professor Sinistra had appeared for lunch on Tuesday, and the map identified her as Bellatrix LeStrange, much to Harry’s anguish.

Knowing there was nothing they could do until they had successfully identified all the imposters, Harry went to bed that night feeling apprehensive. The waning moonlight filtered into the room through the window next to Harry’s bed, as he tried to get comfortable, his thoughts turning to the missing students and teacher. Having been forced to watch many of the Death Eater activities, he was afraid of what might be happening to them, and how they were being treated.

The high ceiling room had a red cast to it, the torches on the walls flickering dimly. The small circle of black clad figures stood around him, and he could smell their fear as he let them feel his rage. He looked down on them, letting the silence stretch out, feeling the fear build.

“One of the prisoners has been allowed to escape, putting all my brilliant, hard worked plans in jeopardy.”

His voice was high-pitched and cold, his anger a living thing they all feared. “You allowed a mere boy to outwit you and find a way out. I am most unhappy about this, and you will find the boy before he has the chance to get back to Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?”

The circle of figures muttered their ascent and bowed low, one of the more foolish attempted to back up.

“Did you think I would let you go unpunished?” The evil wizard laughed cruelly, his long, skeletal fingers caressing the length of a dark wand.

“Crucio” he said, savoring the screams that followed.

The searing pain cleaved his forehead in two, and Harry was unable to stop the scream that resounded through the dormitory. Wrenching himself to the side of the bed, he vomited as he felt Ron slid up next to him, and grip his left wrist. Smoothing the walls in his mind, making sure there had been no breach, Harry concentrated on the soothing trill of Phoenix song, trying to ease the white-hot pain. He felt Ron ease him into a sitting position and a vial pressed to his lips. Gratefully, he drank it and the pain immediately began to retreat, his breathing eased.

“Thanks, mate” he told Ron softly, as the long cool fingers laid across his forehead.

“Harry?” came Dumbledore’s concerned voice, and Harry opened his eyes.

“One of the prisoners escaped, one of the students I think, and Voldemort was not happy with his followers. He was using the Cruciatus on one of them before they joined the search.”

Ron handed Harry his glasses as the Headmaster conjured a goblet of water. Harry wondered fleetingly where Remus was, as his guardian always seemed to know when he had a vision, until he remembered the waning moon. Taking a sip of water, Harry looked up at the powerful wizard in front of him, clad in his snowy white night shirt and deep scarlet dressing gown.

“Professor, is there a way to stop any owls from delivering a message to the imposters? I am sure that someone will warn them about the escape?”

Dumbledore sat down on the side of the bed, as Ron continued to sit behind Harry in silent support. Glancing around, Harry could see that he had once again woke up all his dorm-mates, and smiled apologetically. He quickly assured the older wizard that he was fine, he’d taken his special potion, and again described everything he’d seen.

“Professor, is there anyway we can help him?” Harry asked quietly, guilt gnawing at his gut.

Patting his arm as he turned to leave, the Headmaster’s eyes were sad. “If we can, Harry, if we can?”

Harry waited until his dorm-mates settled back into sleep before he silently crawled out of bed, and making his way to the common room, placing a silencing charm on the doorway. His scar was still prickling ominously, and he didn’t have any desire waking everyone up again. Curling up in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, Harry tried to relax, but sleep was elusive, his mind too focused on the missing students. He could well imagine what they were going through, shuddering as he remembered his own experience that June night almost two years ago. All his instincts screamed at him to do something, to take some king of action to rescue the captives, as Harry was sure the captives were praying for. He knew Michael would make any attempt he could to escape.

His eyes drifted closed, the heavy drag of sleep pulled at him. Automatically, Harry smoothed the walls protecting his mind, before tumbling into the darkness. Michael Corner’s face swam in front of him, his terror palatable as he ran between broken headstones in an unkempt, neglected graveyard. He could feel the cold seeping into his thin school robes, the branches of the trees he ran past ripping at him. The pounding of the pursuing feet grew closer and closer, many of them, and chest heaving, Michael dove behind a large grave marker. Footsteps and harsh breathing was heard, and then a cold voice.

“Crucio!”

Pain ripped through him, sending tendrils of fire along his nerve synapses, and he screamed in agony. The pain seemed to go on forever.

Harry woke with a start, his chest heaving, and his scream reverberating through the common room. Disorientated and drenched in sweat, he could see the thin gray light of dawn filtering through the large windows of the tower, and he shook with uncontrollable tremors running through his muscles. Knowing any further attempts at sleep would be futile, Harry crept up to the dorm, gathered his things, and headed towards the bathroom.

Still trembling, Harry made his way slowly toward the Headmaster’s office twenty minutes later. The gargoyle moved as he approached, as if he was expected, and Harry held on as he rode the staircase up. The murmur of voices could be heard behind the closed door as he staggered toward it. Raising his hand to knock, he was startled as the door flew open of its own accord.

“Good morning, Harry, you are up early.”

Harry stepped into the room, and was not surprised to see Professors Snape and McGonagall seated in front of the desk. Stumbling on rubber legs, he caught himself on the arm of the Potions Master’s chair, swaying as a wave of dizziness hit him. A hand gripped his arms and he closed his eyes, leaning into the support.

“Harry, who cast the Cruciatus Curse on you?” Severus Snape asked him quietly.

“I…I don’t know…show you in the Pensieve,” Harry ground out, as he was eased into a chair Albus Dumbledore conjured for him. Withdrawing a silvery memory strand from his temple, Harry dropped it in to the Pensieve that appeared on the desk, and prodded the shimmering surface with his wand. He slumped back in the chair while the others watched the dream he’d just had.

“What happened, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him, as he watched the scene sink back into the Pensieve.

“I don’t know, sir, I just…dreamed it, I think, but it was like I was with Michael…” Harry trailed off, at a loss to explain.

“And the boy appears to be suffering from the after-effects of that curse, Albus” Snape observed, watching Harry.

“Retrieve your memory, please, Harry,” the Headmaster told him quietly. “You have not had one of these ‘dreams’ for some time.”

Harry brought the silvery strand back to his temple, and sat back. A hand touched his arm and he looked over, taking the potion vial that Snape handed him. Swallowing the bitter liquid with a shudder, he passed back the empty vial. Almost immediately, his shaking subsided and Harry drew a deep breath.

“No, not since the dreams I had fourth year, before Voldemort came back, where I was watching what was going on, instead of through his eyes.”

“Interesting” the elder wizard said softly, “I wonder…” Dumbledore trailed off, apparently lost in thought.

Harry watched him, the far away look in the man’s eyes made him uneasy. Albus Dumbledore was a brilliant man and a powerful wizard, and Harry had come to regard him as a grandfather figure, but he did sometimes feel like a pawn in the man’s campaign against Voldemort. Although Harry knew his participation was pre-ordained, he desperately wanted to protect those he loved as well as the innocent that got caught in the crossfire.

“Professor, if you don’t have anything else for me, may I go down to breakfast?” Harry quiered.

The Headmaster waved his hand absently, “Yes, of course, my boy.”

It was still early and there were few people in the Great Hall. Harry ate quickly, feeling odd as he sat alone at the Gryffindor table, as it had been a long time since he’d been anywhere without an escort. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and Harry knew he was being watched. His instincts kicked in and he knew there was someone in the room who wanted to hurt him.

Scanning the room in what he hoped was a casual glance, he saw several Hufflepuffs, a couple of Slytherins, and four Ravenclaws eating at their respective tables. He studied the faces furtively from behind his fringe, but none were ones he knew well. Each of the students present seemed at ease and comfortable, as they chatted over their eggs and bacon. Neither of the known imposters were at the Ravenclaw table, and only Professor Sprout sat at the head table, reading the Daily Prophet propped against a pitcher of juice as she ate.

Finishing his meal as fast as he could, Harry slipped out of the Hall by a the side door nearest the Gryffindor table. Walking across the Entrance Hall towards the marble staircase, he was not surprised when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Hey, Potter, you dropped this.”

The tall blonde boy in the Hufflepuff robes had his hand extended a chocolate frog candy box in his hand. Turning, Harry automatically started to reach for it, before pulling back, his wand in hand.

“Stupefy!”

As the boy dropped to the floor, Harry pressed a finger to his watch, then casting a binding spell with a wave of his hand. Levitating the stunned boy into the shadows of a nearby hallway, Harry watched the doors to the Great Hall for anybody who might appear. A hand fell on his shoulder, and Harry whipped around.

“What happened here, Harry?” Albus Dumbledore peered down at the figure on the floor, Remus and Snape standing behind him.

“He followed me out of the Great Hall, sir, and tried to hand me that chocolate frog box, telling me I had dropped it” Harry told him. “Professor Snape, did you bring the map with you?”

Severus Snape reached into his ropes, pulling out the tightly folded Marauder’s Map. Remus’ eyes widened slightly as he recognized the piece of parchment, glancing at Harry with a puzzled look. Harry flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile at his godfather. As the dark haired wizard carefully checked the map, the Headmaster leaned down to examine the candy box still clutched in the boy’s hand. A wave of his wand, and the box pulsed with blue light. Bright blue eyes meet emerald green over the top of the half-moon spectacles, and Harry was warmed by the approval he saw there.

“Very good, my boy, the box is a portkey. Come, let us go somewhere more private.”

The Headmaster led them to a small room off the Great Hall, which Harry recognized as the room he’d gone into after his name came out of the goblet of fire his fourth year. Remus levitated the boy into the room, and Snape brought up the rear.

“Well, Severus” Dumbledore asked, “what does that marvelous map tell you?”

“It would appear to be Mister Goyle, Headmaster.” The Potions Master said softly.

Remus nudged the box out of the imposter’s hand and left if sitting on the floor, still glowing faintly blue. At the Headmaster’s direction, Goyle was pushed up into a sitting position near the couch, and three drop of the Veritaserum that Snape never failed to have with him were placed on his tongue.

“Ennervate.”

The fake Ravenclaw awoke with a start, his eyes narrowing as he took in his former Head of House, and went black with hate when he say Harry. Remus threw up a silencing charm as the young man glared at them, until the truth serum took effect, blanking his face. Dumbledore looked down at him, any warm gone from his gaze.

“Why are you here, Mister Goyle?”

“To get Potter and take him back to the Dark Lord.”

“How many of you are here?”

“Four others at the moment.”

“Where does the portkey take you?”

“To the Dark Lord.”

“Where are the students and Professor Sinistra being held.”

“The Dark Lord has them.”

“Do you know where the Dark Lord is, Mister Goyle?”

“No.”

Professor Snape moved to stand behind Dumbledore. “It would not do for the Dark Lord to trust his minions with too much helpful information, Headmaster.”

Albus Dumbledore nodded, studying the young man.

Harry stepped up, next to Goyle, and bent down. “Goyle, is there a graveyard near the mansion Voldemort is using?”

Goyle barely moved his lips. “Yes.”

Harry met Dumbledore’s eyes. “I know where he is, sir, he’s back at the graveyard where Cedric died, where the Riddle family is buried.”