Things began to settle into a more normal routine for the students and facility of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, following a memorial service for the two students killed by Lord Voldemort. The tragedy had the effect of bringing all the students closer together, regardless of House affiliation, due mainly to the encouragement of all people but Severus Snape. With the kidnapping of random students, Voldemort had shown those who might have been swayed to his side, that their lives had little or no value to him, and many Slytherins had approached their head of house for advice on how to avoid taking the Dark Mark.

Harry continued to experience searing pain in his scar, which he was managing as best as he could with the special potion that Professor Snape made for him. It prickled almost constantly as they went in to May, which presented a problem in getting a good nights sleep. The weather turned warm and sunny, and the courtyard areas became crowded, as the grounds had been deemed off limits to the students. Fifth years, including Ginny and Luna, were frantically studying for their OWLs and seventh years were equally frantic about their NEWTs. The full moon came and went with nary a problem.

Convinced that there had to be a way to prevent the pain that brought him to his knees, Harry had enlisted Hermione’s help in researching everything they could find on curse scares, as well as any information he could find on mind links. He felt increasingly frustrated as he read about soul-mate bonds, and parental bonds, but nothing that seem appropriate to his situation. In discussing the problem with Remus, and Professor Snape, neither seemed to take him seriously when Harry told them there had to be a way to prevent the pain. When he asked to speak to Dumbledore about is, the two adults had exchanged a look, and sent him back to the Gryffindor Tower as it was almost curfew time.

Harry fumed as he made his way up the staircase toward the tower, feeling like a little kid who had just been told they were naughty. There had to be a way to block the pain, just like he’d learn to block Voldemort from his mind with Occlumency. Finding the common room deserted, he threw himself into his favorite chair and stared into the hearth. How could he be this powerful wizard who was supposed to defeat Voldemort when you couldn’t keep from throwing his guts up every time the evil git got mad? Knowing how vulnerable he was leaving himself, Harry closed his eyes and sank into his mind, smoothing the stone walls that protected his mind, sinking deeper.

“Sirius?”

The stone chamber was chilly, the raised dais in the center held the ancient stone archway with the tattered black veil, gently swaying in a non-existent whisper of a breeze. Sitting down on the edge of the dais, near the archway, Harry could feel the coldness of it radiating outward.

“Harry, how are you?”

The beloved husky voice wrapped itself around him like a warm embrace, and Harry smiled.

“I’m okay, Sirius, still here, still fighting.”

“You sound frustrated, Harry, tell me what’s been going on.”

Feeling weary, Harry related everything that had happened since he’d last visited with his godfather, told him how he was progressing with the Phoenix pendant and his training with wandless magic; the details of the battle at King’s Cross Station; and relayed how they had discovered the kidnapped students and rescued them. He also gave voice to his frustration over the not being able to block out the pain he felt in his scar.

“There has got to be some way, Sirius, there has to be! I’m not going to be able to defeat him if I can’t even stay on my feet when he’s angry.”

His godfather was silent for several long minutes. “Harry, tell me more about what happens when you use your magic from inside.”

Harry blinked, thinking. “Do you mean how I tap into my magical core?”

“More like what you see, or envision when you are doing that.”

“Well, I envision a golden ball of magic inside me, and then when I use it, the magic is golden, like spell light, and I see it as gold.”

“Have you ever tried to envision the dark magic in your scar?”

“No, I’d never thought of doing anything like that.”

“You say that Snape’s been helping you with your training?”

“Yes, he’s actually been great, Sirius.”

“Do you think that he would trust you enough to let you touch his Dark Mark?”

Harry was taken back, “why would I ask to do that?”

“Because you would be able to feel and envision Voldemort’s dark magic there before trying to feel it and block it in your scar, Harry. You have always been very perceptive when it comes to being able to ‘feel’ dark magic, and I’m just wondering if you can use that ability to isolate his magic by color and somehow redirect it, so that the pain doesn’t take you to your knees.”

Harry mulled this over in his mind, and the scary thing for him was that it seemed to make perfect sense. “When I have the visions of Voldemort, everything seems to be tinted red, like the bastard’s eyes; maybe I should be looking for red magic.”

“It could be, Harry, but you must promise me that you will talk to Snape first, and make sure that Remus and Dumbledore know what you are doing, because if something goes wrong, well, you know what you would suffer.”

Harry shivered, he knew exactly the pain he would experience if Voldemort was able to gain assess to his mind. The worst thing he could do was to weaken the barriers he had finally learned how to use to protect himself.

“I am willing to give anything a try, Sirius, and I promise I will not try it by myself. It is the best idea that anyone has managed to come up with so far.”

“It’s a little wild, but it just might work.”

“It might, I’ll have to let you know, and Sirius, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, son, so very much.”

Harry woke up freezing, the fire long since down to embers in the hearth, and ran up to the dorm to crawl into bed. Hearing Ron and Neville’s snores, and all the hangings drawn on the other bed, Harry tiptoed to his four-poster. Rushing through his nightly routine, brushing his teeth and throwing on his pajamas, he scrambled into bed. Clearing his mind, he went back to sleep, his heart lighter than it had been in a month.

“Harry! Come on, mate, you’re going to be late for breakfast!” Ron shook him again.

Harry shot up, took in the redhead’s fully dressed state and scrambled. Five minutes later, he met Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in the common room and they made their way down to the Great Hall. Tucking Ginny’s hand into his, Harry ate his breakfast without noticing what he was eating. Mulling over the conversation with Sirius in his mind, he missed the conversation going on around him, as the owls arrived with the morning post.

“Harry!” Hermione nudged him with her elbow.

Looking up, Harry could see that she was gesturing at the front page of the Daily Prophet, where there was a large picture of Cornelius Fudge was smugly waving as if to a crowd.

MINISTER OF MAGIC MISSING!
Hermione began to read the article out loud, how Fudge had disappeared from his residence overnight, despite the protective fields and Auror team that guarded him. No one had been hurt, according to Madame Bones, now the acting Minister of Magic, Fudge had simply vanished into thin air. There was no evidence of kidnapping or the Voldemort was involved, Fudge was just, gone.

“Coward probably left on his own, scare off or paid off,” Ron snorted.

“It does seem rather strange that he would just disappear now, when things have quieted down a bit,” Hermione mused thoughtfully.

Harry could only nod, many different possibilities circling in his mind, but the one that surface the most often was accompanied by the mental picture of Fudge in the corridor outside of the court room at the Ministry of Magic after his hearing with the full Wizengamut, with Lucius Malfoy. If anyone could get close to Fudge, it would have been that slimy henchman of Voldemort. There was just no way that Voldemort could not have had something to do with the disappearance of the head of the magical government.

Looking up, he saw Professor Dumbledore in a whispered conversation with Professor McGonagall at the head table. Remus seemed to be just as intently conversing with Professor Snape, as the two poured over the front page of the Prophet.

Pressing a kiss to Ginny’s cheek, Harry stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Making his way up the front, Harry stood patiently in front of the Headmaster waiting to be acknowledged. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Snape nudge his guardian, and the room behind his quiet down. Rolling his eyes, he saw that the twinkling blue eyes rested on his face with fondness.

“Good morning, Harry, did you need to speak to me?”

“Good morning, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall. When you have a moment, sir, yes, uh, Sirius had an idea that I would like to speak to you about.”

The Headmaster sat forward, the shrewd eyes peering deeply into the emerald green, as if to assess the immediacy of the need. “Would you like to go now, my boy, or would it be more opportune to do this later?”

Thinking of the promise he had made to Sirius and the potential danger of what he wanted to attempt, Harry sighed. “Later, sir, as I think Remus and Professor Snape should be there.”

“As you wish, Harry, we will meet right after dinner tonight, alright?”

Nodding his agreement, Harry made a point of saying good morning to his guardian and the Potions Master before joining his friends at the door to the Great Hall. Being Friday, Harry knew that his classes would be hard enough to keep his mind occupied, even if it appeared that someone had put a spell on the clock that made the day seem twice as long as it should be. At least, he had the satisfaction of during double potions that afternoon, of watching Snape prowl the room with vengeance, shooting him speculative looks. Harry smirked as he watched his potion shimmer gently to a light aqua blue, knowing that it was perfect. Potions had become one of his favorite classes, with the absence of animosity from the teacher, and no Malfoy to sabotage what he was trying to brew.

Somehow he survived the afternoon, did his homework under the less then gentle wrath of Hermione, and picked at his dinner of kidney pie. Leaving his friends at the Gryffindor table, annoyed with him because he would not tell them what he was doing, Harry followed Remus out of the Great Hall. Harry was sure that his godfather had an idea of what he was doing, with Remus’ ability to practically read his mind, and he hoped that the older man would not be upset with him after he laid out his plan.

Professor Snape was already seated with the Headmaster when they reached the office at the top of the revolving staircase. Sitting nervously at the edge of his seat, Harry politely refused the offer of tea and biscuits. When all the pleasantries were over, Albus Dumbledore sat back at looked at Harry expectantly.

“Uh, I think maybe Sirius has come up with an idea to get rid of the pain I feel when Voldemort gets angry, by using my scar and Professor Snape’s Mark to turn the dark magic back around and force it back into Voldemort’s mind.”

A stunned silence deafened the room, before all hell broke loose.