It had been three days since Snape had been nearly killed by Voldemort and life had been perfectly calm at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. Although his visions had ceased, not a night had passed that he hadn’t woken in a cold sweat. His old fears stalked him in his nightmares, which seemed to be getting progressively worse, and his growing anxiety preyed upon his mind during the day.

Even Potions lessons being cancelled hadn’t cheered him up. That only served to remind him of the ordeal Snape had endured and the fact that he still didn’t know what he was going to say to his teacher once Snape was out of hospital, much less what Snape might say to him. Maybe it would be best if they just ignored the part he’d played in saving Snape’s life.

Seamus interrupted Harry’s dreary reverie with his usual announcement of the headlines from the Daily Prophet.

“A family of four was murdered in Bristol last night,” he reported matter-of-factly.

“Can I see?” Harry asked.

Seamus shrugged agreement and handed Harry the paper. Harry perused the article, feeling oddly detached. According to the Daily Prophet, this latest attack had been particularly vicious, but what struck Harry most was that it came as a complete surprise. This was the first Death Eater attack since summer that he hadn’t witnessed in a vision and it felt strange to have no personal knowledge of the murders. Not that this was a bad thing, of course.

“You didn’t know about this one?” Ron asked, nodding at the paper.

“No,” Harry said. “I had a nightmare last night, but it was nothing like this.”

“Harry, that’s wonderful!” Hermione said excitedly. “Then you really have learnt to control your visions!”

“I suppose so,” Harry said with considerably less enthusiasm.

“What’s the matter?” Ron asked in exasperation, reaching for another helping of black pudding. “This is what you’ve been hoping for all year. It’s why you’ve spent so much time studying with Snape. You ought to be thrilled.”

“I guess I’m just not convinced yet,” Harry said. “It’s only one attack, after all.”

“Well, whether it’s one or twenty, I think you should be celebrating!”

Harry smiled at Ron, but didn’t feel nearly as elated as he knew he should. In fact, he felt rather let down. Even if it were true that he’d learnt to completely block his visions, somehow that didn’t seem terribly important at the moment. The family in Bristol was still dead.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and handed the paper back to Seamus.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Harry replied, but deep down, he wasn’t sure if it was true.

---

Harry was still distracted as he arrived at the lake for Defense, but he made a conscious effort not to scowl at Ryan as the man greeted the Gryffindors and Slytherins with his usual effusive energy. After his conversation with Ron a few days before, Harry was determined to treat the Defense professor fairly and although he didn’t like Ryan, he had to admit the man was an excellent teacher. All of the students had made tremendous progress from the clumsy, uncertain duelists they had been at the beginning of the year and Harry reckoned that nearly everyone in class would be able to hold their own in a serious duel.

Harry was still the best duelist in class, however, and invariably beat his opponents easily. Today was no exception. Ryan paired them up for individual duels and as the morning progressed, Harry defeated one opponent after another, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike.

“Malfoy, Potter, it’s your turn,” Ryan called as he assigned the next pairs.

“Yes, Professor.” Malfoy smiled at Ryan and nodded politely as he came over to join Harry. Given that Malfoy usually seemed incapable looking at Ryan without sneering, his response was surprising and Harry’s eyebrows rose questioningly as he and Malfoy took their places.

“Since when did you decide to start being nice to Ryan?” Harry asked, raising his wand. “I thought you hated him. Spicula!” Silver arrows shot from Harry’s wand.

“Protego!” Malfoy called, forcing Harry to dodge the rebounding curse. “I’m not all that fond of Ryan, but it doesn’t hurt to be cooperative with our new Head of House. Reducto!”

“Muras!” Harry’s shield charm easily deflected Malfoy’s spell. “Don’t you mean temporary Head of House? What happens when Snape gets back and finds out you’ve been cozying up to his rival? Onis!”

“Turbo!” A strong wind scattered the approaching hailstones and knocked Harry back. Malfoy smirked. “Who says he’s coming back?”

“Inflictum!” Harry cried and Malfoy was thrown back and slammed into the ground. “Dumbledore does.”

Malfoy rolled to his feet and his smirk turned nasty. “Dumbledore’s a fool. Spicula!”

“Declino!” Harry replied with a flick of his wand and the silver arrows passed harmlessly on either side of him. “He’s the one who appoints the Heads of House.”

“You think you’re so clever, Potter, but you don’t know everything.” Malfoy glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them, then dropped his voice conspiratorially. “Dumbledore doesn’t want anyone to find out the truth, but I know all about Snape’s illness and he wasn’t suddenly struck down with the flu.”

Harry felt his stomach drop but he managed to keep his face impassive. “What are you talking about?” he asked, hoping that his tone conveyed the right mixture of impatience and mild curiosity.

“Let’s just say it’s a fair bet that Snape won’t be returning as Head of House,” Malfoy told him with smug self-importance. “Relashio!”

“Protego!” Harry replied distractedly. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Malfoy ducked the rebounding spell easily and his smile sent a chill through Harry. “You’ll find out. Inflictum!”

“Muras!” Harry barely got the blocking charm off in time and the force of Malfoy’s spell sent him stumbling backwards.

Malfoy advanced towards Harry. “But I’m sure you won’t mind having a new Potions Master next term, eh Potter? Turbo!”

The whirlwind sent Harry tumbling across the ground before he’d even been able to form the blocking charm on his lips.

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand went flying and Malfoy smirked at him in satisfaction.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy!” Ryan said, coming up to them.

Malfoy puffed up with pride. “Thank you, sir.”

“That will be all for today, gentlemen,” Ryan continued. “Lesson’s over. You’re dismissed.”

Malfoy threw Harry a condescending sneer and walked away. Harry got to his feet, brushing dirt from his robes as he went to retrieve his wand.

“Potter, I need a word with you,” Ryan said, beckoning Harry over as the rest of the class dispersed. “You were distracted with Malfoy just now. Is something bothering you?”

“No, sir,” Harry lied. “I guess I just wasn’t concentrating.”

Ryan regarded Harry shrewdly. “Mr. Malfoy is fairly adept at breaking his opponents’ concentration. I thought you had learnt not to let yourself be so easily manipulated.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry isn’t going to keep you alive. When you allow your opponent to manipulate your emotions, you give him a powerful weapon, so if you want to be an Auror you’re going to need thicker skin. An Auror can’t afford to let his emotions distract him. Lose your head with a Death Eater and you’ll be dead before you can think better of your mistake.”

“How would you know?” Harry asked indignantly, unable to resist challenging Ryan’s smooth self-assurance. Harry had fought Death Eaters; he’d also spent the better part of a year watching their attacks in his visions. He felt confident that he knew at least as much about fighting them as Ryan who had spent most of Voldemort’s previous reign of terror wandering the continent.

“I know a fair bit about a lot of things you wouldn’t suspect, Potter,” Ryan answered pleasantly, not at all angered by Harry’s disrespect. “For instance, I know that if you spent more time worrying about your own problems instead of other people’s you’d be better off.”

Ryan fixed Harry with a knowing look. “Professor Dumbledore has, of course, informed the staff of the true reason for Professor Snape’s convalescence. I understand your impulse to be concerned, but admirable as that instinct might be, there’s nothing you can do for him. Snape made his choice and he knew the risks. Now he’s got to weather the consequences.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you need to stop worrying about him and start looking after yourself.”

“Of course, that’s the Slytherin way, isn’t it?” Harry said, bristling. “Look out for yourself and don’t worry about anyone else.”

“You’re almost right, Potter,” Ryan said, still unruffled by Harry’s insolence. “We look out for our own interests and we don’t worry about things we can’t change.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a Slytherin!”

“No, you’re a Gryffindor through and through,” Ryan said, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “But in case it’s slipped your mind, Professor Snape is a Slytherin. Do you imagine for a moment that he would appreciate that you care?”

Harry looked away and answered quietly. “No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

“Then why bother? Don’t you have one or two more pressing problems of your own?”

“None that I can do anything about,” Harry replied sourly.

“No, I suppose you’re right about that,” Ryan conceded. “Just don’t forget that Snape’s not the only person Voldemort wants dead.”

“I couldn’t very well forget that,” Harry grumbled.

“I hope not. There’s a place for your Gryffindor principles and a place for Slytherin pragmatism and you need to know the difference.”

Ryan strode away. Harry watched him go then set off across the grounds in the opposite direction from the one Ryan had taken. He didn’t bother going up to the castle for lunch, but headed for the Quidditch pitch to meet the rest of his teammates for practice.

As he walked, Harry considered what both Malfoy and Ryan had told him. The Defense teacher was right, of course; he’d been stupid to let himself be distracted and he’d have to make sure that didn’t happen again. However, no matter what Ryan said, Malfoy’s threat still worried Harry. If only he’d had the presence of mind to use Legilimency on the Slytherin, he’d at least know if Malfoy had been serious or not, but of course that hadn’t occurred to him until it was too late. Harry rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself and quickened his pace.

He arrived at the Quidditch pitch to find Katie already there. The rest of the Gryffindors arrived shortly thereafter and soon Harry was soaring high in the air, dodging Bludgers and chasing the Snitch. The demanding maneuvers took all of his concentration, pushing aside thoughts of Malfoy. As soon as practice was over, though, his concern resurfaced.

Hermione had come out to the pitch to watch the Quidditch practice and Harry took the opportunity to tell Ron and her about Malfoy’s threat as they headed back to the castle together. To Harry’s consternation, however, his friends didn’t seem terribly troubled by the Slytherin’s taunts.

“Malfoy’s all talk, Harry,” Ron said nonchalantly. “I’m sure Ryan was right. The git was only trying to rattle you.”

“What if it was more than that?”

Hermione answered. “Even if he was serious, there’s no way that Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters could harm Professor Snape here at Hogwarts. If they could, they’d have come after you, Harry, long before now.”

Hermione had a point, but Harry still wasn’t ready to drop the matter. “But how did Malfoy know about Snape?”

“Ryan said that Dumbledore had told the teachers what happened,” Ron said. “Maybe Malfoy overheard some of them talking about it.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, unconvinced.

“Did Professor Ryan hear what Malfoy said?” Hermione asked.

Harry considered. “I’m sure he heard some of it. He got the idea, anyway.”

“Well then, there’s nothing to worry about,” Ron said. “Ryan is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He can certainly handle anything Malfoy might be cooking up.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure that I trust Ryan to work very hard to protect Snape. I don’t get the impression that he’d be all that broken up if he had to remain Head of Slytherin permanently.”

“Just because he and Snape don’t get on doesn’t mean he’d ignore a real threat, Harry,” Hermione insisted.

“And it’s not as if Ryan’s the only one who wouldn’t be sorry if something happened to Snape,” Ron said irritably.

“Ron!” Hermione admonished him.

“It’s true, Hermione. What’s the point in pretending it’s not? Most people hate him.” Ron glared at Harry. “You used to hate him, too, if you remember. So it’s a bit rich to distrust Ryan just because he doesn’t like Snape. Frankly, I’d be more inclined to distrust Ryan if he did.”

Harry stared stonily at Ron, but fortunately they had arrived at Binns’s classroom and Hermione hurried them into their seats so Harry didn’t have the chance to tell Ron exactly what he thought of Ryan. Harry was still angry through Herbology and he didn’t talk to Ron at all. Ron seemed equally annoyed, but once they were finally back in the common room, Hermione produced a large plate of homemade butterscotch-pumpkin biscuits that Ron’s Aunt Rose had sent and this seemed to dispel the hurt feelings on both sides. The three of them settled down to do their homework and soon their usual camaraderie had been restored. Harry was on his fifth biscuit when the portrait hole opened to admit Neville. Professor Sprout had asked him to stay after class and he looked slightly dazed.

“Neville, are you all right?” Hermione asked as the boy flopped down in a chair next to them.

“What? Oh, yeah.”

“Why did Professor Sprout keep you after class?” Ron asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

“She just wanted to talk to me about the research I’d done on my Mimbulus mimbletonia,” Neville answered, blushing slightly.

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick glance. “Was it all right?” Hermione asked.

Neville nodded solemnly. “She said it was some of the best she’s ever seen. She said if I keep going like this, I should get an ‘Outstanding’ on my NEWT for sure.”

“Neville, that’s wonderful!” Hermione exclaimed with genuine excitement.

The rest of the Gryffindors in the common room gathered around to congratulate Neville as well. Neville seemed astonished at his classmates’ reactions and grinned shyly. Harry grinned too. He was happy for Neville’s success, especially after all the effort his classmate had put into the work, and Neville’s self-confidence could certainly use the boost. Hermione was already peppering Neville with questions too arcane for Harry to understand, so he turned his attention back to his Charms homework and reached for another biscuit.

---

Afternoon gave way to evening; homework to games of chess and exploding snap, and one by one, Harry’s friends went up to bed. Finally, Harry, too, went up to his dormitory. The other boys were already asleep and Harry quietly undressed and climbed into bed. He ran through the mental routines that would close his mind to invasion; these had become second nature to him. Next, he focused his mind as he had done in the hospital wing and took a deep, calming breath, confident that he had blocked any visions for the night. He wished that there were some way to block his nightmares as well.

Despite the progress he’d made in studying Occlumency and Legilimency, Harry still lay awake in bed, dreading sleep. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay awake all night. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping for pleasant dreams.

---

Harry was chasing Bellatrix Lestrange through the Ministry of Magic. In the atrium, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Crucio!” Harry cried, but the spell had no effect. “Avada Kedavra!” he screamed desperately, but Bellatrix only laughed.

“Poor little Harry. You don’t have what it takes to fight me.”

“Leave Harry alone!” Neville yelled as he came racing to help, but before he could cast a spell, Bellatrix raised her wand.

“Crucio!”

Neville collapsed, screaming in agony and Bellatrix laughed cruelly. The laughter changed to Voldemort’s high pitched cackle and Harry was suddenly face to face with the evil wizard. Voldemort raised his wand.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A jet of green light shot from Voldemort’s wand, but the golden wizard statue from the fountain leaped in front of Harry. The spell shattered the statue. Cracked and broken, it fell at Harry’s feet. Only it wasn’t a statue any more; it was Snape.

“Harry, come on, this way!” Remus shouted, beckoning Harry through an archway. Harry ran and found himself alone in the corridor deep in the Department of Mysteries. He ran faster, but Voldemort’s cruel laughter followed him, echoing off the walls.

“You can’t escape me, Harry.”

Abruptly, the corridor ended in a familiar circle of doors. Harry tried to open the doors one after another, but they were all locked.

“Harry, you have to find a way through,” Hermione told him urgently, but no matter what he tried, Harry couldn’t get any of the doors to open. He didn’t know how.

“Did you really think you could beat me, Harry?” Voldemort asked contemptuously.

Harry whirled around to face Voldemort.

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort cried.

Before Harry could react, Ron jumped in front of him. The spell hit Ron and he dropped to the floor. Hermione screamed and ran towards Ron, but Voldemort made a slashing motion with his wand and Hermione was thrown back with tremendous force. She hit the wall with a sickening crack and slumped into a heap.

Harry had his wand pointed at Voldemort now and he poured all of his hatred and fury into his spell. “Avada Kedavra!”

Green light burst from the tip of Harry’s wand, but Voldemort raised his hand and the light ricocheted away. It hit Ginny who fell to the floor with a look of mild surprise in her vacant eyes.

“NO!” Harry screamed.

“There’s no one left to die for you, Harry,” Voldemort said, smiling triumphantly as he raised his wand once more. Harry was overwhelmed by grief and hopelessness and he didn’t even try to run or fight.

Voldemort laughed. “Avada Kedavra!”

---

Harry gasped and sprang up in bed, Voldemort’s high pitched laughter still ringing in his mind. Slowly, he took in his surroundings – his bed curtains and the soft snores of his classmates sleeping nearby – and realized that he’d only been dreaming. He lay back on his pillow willing his racing heartbeat to slow. That had been his worst nightmare yet.

Harry rolled over and clutched his pillow tightly, trying to summon the mental discipline to calm his mind, but it was useless. He couldn’t dispel the helpless dread he felt and he wondered bitterly why it was that his nightmares should become so intense just as his visions had finally become manageable. Surely there had to be some reason for this and some way to stave off the terrible dreams.

Without meaning to, Harry found himself wishing he could talk to Snape, and frowned. He had caught himself wishing this with disturbing frequency over the last few days. He shook his head as if the thought were an annoying insect that could be shooed away. But it persisted and as Harry lay alone in the silent, darkness, there was nothing to distract him from it or from the truth that had been slowly dawning on him. He missed his teacher. Not that he could ever tell Snape that, of course, or anyone else for that matter. But in the dark, in the privacy of his own thoughts, he could finally admit it to himself. It wasn’t just that he needed Snape’s help; he wanted the man’s advice.

Harry sighed and wondered why it had taken him so long to realize that. He supposed that being forced to spend so much time with Snape in his lessons had simply obscured the fact that he had come to genuinely appreciate that time he spent with his professor. Snape never minced words and always knew how to cut straight to the heart of an issue, even to the point of being cruelly blunt. But he was always honest and he always seemed to know what to say to calm Harry’s fevered emotions. Harry was certain that the Potions Master would know exactly how to reassure him now and he desperately needed reassurance, though of what Harry wasn’t quite sure. All he really knew was that his general sense of anxiety was growing daily. Beyond that, he didn’t really want to delve into the dark sea of emotions churning within him. Not alone.

Harry sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was almost five o’clock, not too early to get up, and in any case, Harry was unable to lie in bed with his thoughts any longer. He got out of bed, dressed quickly, then grabbed his broom and headed for the Quidditch pitch.

---

The sun was already peeking over the horizon when Harry returned to the castle. He deposited his broom in his dormitory, then headed back down to breakfast without waiting for his friends, who were only just beginning to stir. He was hungry and not particularly in the mood to chat. However, in the entrance hall, Harry spotted Malfoy coming up from the dungeons. He looked unusually smug and Harry was suddenly reminded of the cryptic threat the Slytherin had made the day before. Harry had missed his chance in Defense to discover whether or not Malfoy had been telling the truth, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity now. Harry stepped forward to intercept Malfoy.

“You look happy this morning, Draco. Did someone die?” Harry asked pleasantly.

Malfoy scowled at Harry, then smirked. “Not yet.” He tried to step past Harry, but Harry moved to block the Slytherin’s path.

“I know all about Professor Snape’s illness too,” Harry said, fixing Malfoy with a penetrating glare. “And if you think anyone’s getting past Dumbledore, you’re mad.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, then he smiled and Harry felt a thrill of horror.

“There are ways to deal with traitors, Potter, and if you think Dumbledore can protect him, you’re the one who’s mad. I promise you, that coward will get what’s coming to him.”

Harry felt a white hot rage course through him. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d shoved Malfoy up against the wall and had his wand at the Slytherin’s throat.

“Don’t you ever call him a coward again!” Harry snarled, shoving the point of his wand deeper into the shocked Slytherin’s neck. “You have no idea what courage is, but he’s got more of it than all those scum who bow at Voldemort’s feet put together.”

“You’re defending him, Potter?” Malfoy asked with an incredulous and rather nervous laugh. “That’s really pathetic, given how much he hates you.”

“He hates Voldemort even more, which is all that matters to me,” Harry said.

“Go ahead then, defend him all you like,” Malfoy snarled, his fury bolstering his nerve. “But you won’t win, because the Dark Lord never gives up. Snape can’t hide forever. Believe me, Potter, he’s as good as dead. It’s only a matter of time.”

Harry felt his rage crystallize into a pure, calm fury. He gripped his wand tightly, but at that moment a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter!” Ryan snapped. “And put that wand away before I give you detention as well!” He glanced at Malfoy. “Get to breakfast, now!”

Malfoy straightened his robes, threw one last glare at Harry, then stalked off towards the Great Hall.

Ryan turned back to Harry. “I said, put your wand away, Potter.”

Harry, who was still gripping his wand tightly at his side, shoved it into his pocket.

“Come with me,” Ryan said, turning to lead the way out of the entrance hall. Harry scowled, but followed the Defense teacher. They walked in silence down several long corridors until they arrived at Ryan’s office, a spare, efficient space that at first glance gave the impression of being unused. On closer inspection, however, Harry discovered that the office, though nearly bare, nevertheless contained some evidence of being occupied.

Most of the bookshelves were empty, but several contained a few objects. In particular, Harry noticed a Sneakoscope, not much larger than the one Ron had given him in third year. But unlike Harry’s, Ryan’s Sneakoscope was well made and obviously expensive. It sat on a shelf next to an intricately carved wooden box, with fading Cyrillic lettering running along the sides. Another shelf contained a small, worn, leather satchel with what appeared to be small vials of potions ingredients. There was a neat stack of homework on the desk waiting to be marked along with a small stack of books. Harry glanced automatically at the top volume, a dog-eared copy of something with a French title Harry couldn’t read.

There were other items lying about which Harry couldn’t identify, but although everything appeared to be of the finest quality, there was nothing purely decorative. Everything seemed to serve some practical purpose and most of the items were well-worn from use.

“Well, Mr. Potter,” Ryan said, settling into his chair and propping his feet up on the desk. “Would you care to explain yourself?”

Harry shrugged. “Malfoy and I had an argument.”

Ryan’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “That doesn’t give you the right to curse him.”

“I didn’t curse him,” Harry protested.

“You were about to.” Ryan held Harry’s gaze, daring his student to contradict him. Harry looked away.

Ryan sighed. “What are we going to do with you, Potter?”

“Give me detention,” Harry said unconcernedly, but Ryan shook his head.

“I’m not talking about punishment. Didn’t anything I said to you yesterday make an impression? You have to get control of your emotions, of whatever it is that’s eating away at you inside. You’re not going to survive if you don’t.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Harry said stiffly.

Ryan sighed once more. “All right, Potter, you’re dismissed, for now. But I will be assigning you detention once I’ve decided on an appropriate punishment. In the meantime, stay away from Malfoy.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry turned towards the door, then stopped and looked back at Ryan. “Malfoy meant those threats he made against Professor Snape. It wasn’t just talk.”

Ryan met Harry’s concerned gaze with an appraising one and Harry saw something like amusement flicker in the man’s eyes.

“Making threats is easy, Mr. Potter. It’s even easier to believe them. But making them a reality?” Ryan smiled slyly. “That’s something else again. Now get to breakfast.”

Harry left Ryan’s office, thoroughly perplexed. He had no idea what to make of the Defense teacher. Maybe Hermione and Ron were right; maybe Ryan would protect Snape. But Harry still didn’t trust the man and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ryan was hiding something.

---

All of Harry’s classmates were already at breakfast when he arrived and Seamus was in the middle of sharing the gory details of the previous night’s Death Eater attack. Harry couldn’t bear the news in the Daily Prophet on top of his nightmare, so he grabbed a piece of toast and left quickly.

The rest of the day passed calmly enough, though Harry could muster little enthusiasm for his classes. He kept wondering how much longer Snape was going to be in hospital and by the time dinner was over, his impatience finally got the better of him. When the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors left to return to Gryffindor Tower, Harry headed for the hospital wing to check on Snape’s condition.

The main ward was deserted when Harry arrived. There were currently no patients and Madam Pomfrey wasn’t there. Harry made his way towards the private ward in search of the matron, but as he approached the door, he heard familiar voices.

“You’re sure he’s not dead?” a rather nervous-sounding Crabbe asked.

“Of course he’s not dead, you idiot,” Malfoy said impatiently. “He’s breathing.”

“He doesn’t look too good.” That was Goyle.

Harry leaned closer to the door to listen and heard Malfoy sigh.

“You wouldn’t look particularly good either if you’d been tortured within an inch of your life. Come on, I’ve seen enough, let’s get out of here.”

Harry heard footsteps approaching and quickly hid behind the curtains of the nearest bed.

“I still can’t believe that Snape turned traitor,” Goyle said as they passed by Harry’s hiding place.

“Don’t worry, he’ll pay for his treachery,” Malfoy assured his companions and then they were gone.

Harry pushed aside the curtains and looked out at the deserted ward. That was the second time today he’d heard Malfoy threaten Snape and Ryan’s easy assurances from that morning did nothing to ease his mind. There was no security in the hospital wing. Anyone in the castle could wander in and Snape was certainly in no condition to defend himself. Unfortunately, although he was sure that Malfoy was planning something, Harry had no idea what it might be and he couldn’t go to his teachers with vague misgivings; Ryan had already dismissed his concerns earlier. He’d simply have to keep an eye on Malfoy until Snape was out of the hospital wing or the Slytherin tipped his hand.

---

It was nearly midnight and most of the Gryffindors were long since in bed. The lights in the common room were low. Hermione sat on the couch, reading by wand-light and Ron sat next to her, staring sleepily at the parchment open on the table in front of him. Harry sat in a chair by the cold fireplace with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped in one hand.

“Well?” he asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

Ron looked up glumly from the Marauders Map. “It’s been almost an hour and all Malfoy’s done is pace around his dormitory.”

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up to pace himself. After overhearing Malfoy in the hospital wing that afternoon, Harry had sought out Ron and Hermione to help him keep watch on the Slytherin and they had all agreed that using the Marauders Map would be the easiest way. But they hadn’t expected Malfoy to suffer from insomnia.

“Harry, we can’t sit up all night,” Ron said plaintively.

“I still can’t believe that Malfoy could be a danger to Professor Snape,” Hermione said, looking up from her book. “I mean I can’t believe he’d actually try to kill Snape. It’s not that easy to do. Even if he knows how to cast Avada Kedavra, if he used his own wand, it would be too easy to trace and I’m certain he couldn’t manage it with someone else’s. That’s very advanced magic. More likely, he’d have to use some sort of poison, but that would probably mean breaking into Professor Snape’s private stores.”

“Who’s breaking into Snape’s private stores?” Ginny asked with a yawn as she came down the stairs.

“What are you doing up?” Ron asked his sister as she curled up in the chair Harry had vacated.

“I got up to go to the loo and I heard you talking. What are you three doing?”

“Harry thinks Malfoy is going to try to kill Snape,” Ron said matter-of-factly.

Ginny blinked and came fully awake. “What?”

“I didn’t say that exactly, but I’m sure he’s up to no good,” Harry said.

Ginny was still staring at them incredulously, so Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the next few minutes telling Ginny all about how Voldemort had tortured Snape and about Malfoy’s subsequent veiled threats.

“How awful!” Ginny exclaimed with unmistakable sympathy for their Potions Master. “And to think we’ve been making fun of him! But you don’t really think Malfoy would try to kill him, do you Harry?”

Harry looked at the skeptical expressions on his friends’ faces. “No, probably not,” he conceded, “but I’d still like to know what he’s doing.”

Harry scowled at the map and the others joined him in watching the tiny dot labeled ‘Draco Malfoy’ circling around its dormitory.

Ron spoke up. “Obviously, he’s trying to wear a hole in the carpet. If you ask me, we ought to go to bed and leave him to it.”

Ginny was still watching the map thoughtfully. “It’s as if he’s waiting for something.”

“Or someone,” Hermione added and they all looked at one another with a renewed sense of concern.

Ron shifted uneasily. “You don’t suppose that Malfoy is waiting to let someone into the castle?”

Hermione chewed her lower lip, frowning in concentration, then shook her head. “It’d be too risky. Even with Polyjuice, it’d be too easy to be caught wandering around the castle at night; the potion only lasts an hour. I don’t think any of Voldemort’s Death Eaters would try to sneak into Hogwarts even with Malfoy’s help. They can’t Apparate anywhere on the grounds and the castle has all sorts of wards. It’s not as if anyone can just walk in the front door.”

“Sirius did,” Ginny said and the others looked at her. “Not that he was dangerous,” she added quickly. “But he did manage to get into the castle, even with the Dementors on guard.”

“That’s only because he was an Animagus,” Hermione said dismissively.

Harry started and looked at Hermione in sudden realization. “An Animagus!” He snatched up the Marauders Map and ignoring the dungeons, found the hospital wing. There, moving slowly just outside, was the name he had dreaded: Peter Pettigrew.

Harry cursed and bolted for the portrait hole with Ron and Hermione close behind. He raced through the halls with only one thought in mind; they were never going to make it in time. Harry burst into the main ward and sprinted towards the back, but the sound of glass shattering brought him up short and Ron and Hermione ran into him. An angry howl and the sound of something else clattering to the floor assaulted them. The three Gryffindors exchanged wary glances, then crept forward.

Harry pushed open the door to the private ward and they gaped at the scene before them. Broken glass and numerous small objects littered the floor; several of the bed curtains hung in tatters and a furious ball of spitting orange fur was darting around the room after a much smaller gray blur.

The gray blur headed towards the door, then seemed to spot the three students blocking its path. The rat squealed in terror, changed directions and scurried up onto a nearby bed. With an angry hiss, the cat leapt after it, knocking a metal tray off the bedside table. The tray hit the floor with a crash as the rat jumped for the window. The cat’s snapping jaws were a moment too late. Pettigrew was gone and Crookshanks sat on the window sill, growling deep in his throat and swishing his tail in frustration.

Harry and Hermione reacted at the same time. Harry hurried over to Snape’s bed where he was relieved to find the Potions Master in a deep sleep and clearly unharmed.

Meanwhile, Hermione went and gathered her cat into her arms, hugging him tightly. “Oh, good boy, Crookshanks! You chased that awful rat away, didn’t you? You were wonderful!”

“He was bloody brilliant, is what he was!” Ron said, coming to stand next to Hermione. “Well done, Crookshanks!”

The cat regarded Ron imperiously, then jumped out of Hermione’s arms onto the bed. He sauntered up to Ron and butted his head against the astonished Gryffindor’s hand. Ron obediently patted the cat, then grinned at Hermione. “He likes me!”

“Crookshanks is a very discerning animal,” Dumbledore said from the doorway. He looked calm and alert as he surveyed the wreckage in the ward and Harry suddenly wondered if the man ever slept.

“It wasn’t us, Professor!” Ron said hastily, indicating the destruction around them. “It was the rat. He was after Professor Snape.”

“It was Peter Pettigrew,” Harry clarified as Dumbledore came to join him at Snape’s bed. “Crookshanks stopped him, but he got away out the window.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, unperturbed by this news. “And how is it that you three happen to be here?”

“I’d like to know that, myself.”

Professor McGonagall had arrived with Ginny. She wore her tartan dressing gown and had her long hair braided down her back, but she still managed to look as regal and imposing as ever as she regarded the students sternly. “What on earth happened here?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

“Twice today, I heard Malfoy making threats against Professor Snape,” Harry answered. “I told Professor Ryan, the first time. But he didn’t seem to take it very seriously, so the second time I didn’t bother. Instead, we just decided to keep an eye on Malfoy.”

“Yeah, only he spent the whole evening in his dormitory,” Ron said.

“We thought Malfoy might be waiting for someone,” Hermione said. “But the only way anyone could get into Hogwarts would be if they were an Animagus. That’s when we thought of Pettigrew and came here.”

“Only Crookshanks got here first,” Ron continued. “And it was a good thing, too. If it hadn’t been for him…”

Ron’s unfinished thought was left hanging in the air for a moment, then McGonagall spoke, her nostrils flaring angrily.

“Thankfully, Miss Granger’s cat has more sense than the rest of you! Mr. Potter, you need to report every threat made against a student or staff member of this school, particularly ones made by Lucius Malfoy’s son! I am astounded that none of you had the presence of mind to come to me about something this serious!”

“It’s my fault,” Harry said bitterly. “I should have realized it would be Pettigrew in the first place.”

“Harry, you couldn’t have known that!” Ginny said.

Harry sighed. “Yes, I could. The night Voldemort summoned Professor Snape, Pettigrew confessed that he’s been sneaking into Hogwarts to spy on us. That’s how he knew Snape had betrayed Voldemort.”

“What?”

Harry winced at Hermione’s horrified exclamation and looked around apologetically at the stunned, disbelieving faces watching him. Only Dumbledore seemed unaffected by this news.

“That explains a great deal,” he said thoughtfully.

“Potter, if you knew that Pettigrew was able to get into the castle, why in the world didn’t you tell us?” McGonagall asked.

Harry looked away, ashamed. “I forgot.”

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a glance that made Harry cringe, then Dumbledore spoke again.

“That is hardly surprising, Harry,” he said kindly. “It was a rather eventful night, as I recall. But have no fear, there is no harm done. After his run in with Crookshanks tonight, I am certain that Pettigrew will not return and, in any event, our esteemed feline sentry is more than capable of handling him.” Dumbledore winked at Crookshanks who puffed up proudly.

“Sentry?” Hermione asked.

“Who better to catch a rat, Miss Granger?”

“Wait a minute,” Ron said. “You mean that Crookshanks was here on purpose? You knew that Pettigrew was going to try to sneak into the castle?”

“I knew nothing with certainty,” Dumbledore answered. “It was merely an eventuality to be guarded against. Peter Pettigrew is not the first Animagus to find his way into Hogwarts, after all. Surely, you do not imagine that I would fail to take every precaution to ensure Professor Snape’s welfare?” Dumbledore looked pointedly at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably.

“While your concern is admirable,” Dumbledore continued, addressing all of the students with an indulgent smile. “I promise you that I have personally seen to the security of this ward and there is no need for Gryffindor heroics. Now, it is quite late and you have classes in the morning. Therefore, I suggest that all of you get to bed.”

The students nodded and left the hospital ward to head back to their common room. They were all quiet, but Harry felt particularly chagrinned over the night’s fiasco. How could he have forgotten about Pettigrew? However, Dumbledore’s assurance was an enormous relief to Harry who knew that with the headmaster watching over Snape, nothing could harm his teacher.

Harry and his friends arrived at Gryffindor Tower and climbed through the portrait hole. Harry retrieved the Marauders Map from the table where they’d left it. He glanced once more at the dungeons where Malfoy now appeared to be in bed. Harry wondered how much the Slytherin really knew and how he was getting his information as he slowly made his way up to his dormitory. Ron was already in bed with his curtains drawn and Harry stripped off his robes, climbed into bed and was soon asleep.

---

Harry yawned and listlessly stirred his porridge.

“Buck up, Potter!” Katie said, making her morning inspection of the Quidditch team. “Our match against Hufflepuff is tomorrow, let’s see some enthusiasm.”

“Don’t worry, Katie, we’ll fly circles around them!” Ron said heartily.

“That’s the spirit, Weasley,” Katie said approvingly. She moved off down the table and Ron gave a huge yawn, himself.

“No more midnight adventures, Harry, I think we’re getting too old for it.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but before he could answer, Seamus let out a low whistle.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, staring in shock at the front page of the Daily Prophet which had just been delivered.

Harry grimaced; he really didn’t need to hear about another Death Eater attack, but Seamus’s next words stunned him.

“According to this,” Seamus said incredulously, “Snape was nearly killed by Death Eaters last Saturday night.”

“What?” Harry got up and went to crowd around Seamus with the rest of his classmates, all of whom were staring slack-jawed at the front page of the paper. In bold letters, the headline read, “Attack on Hogwarts Professor Raises Question of School Safety!” and under the headline was a picture of Snape.

“Do you think it’s true?” Lavender asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Seamus asked. “I don’t think they’ve lied about any other attack they’ve reported. And it’s not as if there aren’t enough and they need to invent more.”

Parvati frowned. “Then why didn’t Dumbledore tell us?”

“Didn’t want to frighten everyone, I imagine,” Dean said. “It would certainly explain why Snape’s been in hospital all this time, though.”

Neville shuddered visibly. “But why would Death Eaters want to kill Snape?”

“Pembroke doesn’t say,” Seamus answered.

“Who?” Harry asked sharply.

Seamus glanced up. “Averill Pembroke. He’s the one who wrote the article.”

Harry grabbed the paper out of Seamus’s hands and skimmed the article. It was a brief, straightforward account of the attack on Snape.

“Saturday last, Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was attacked by Death Eaters and left for dead. Although he survived, Snape remains in critical condition.

“Anonymous threats have promised further attacks on the man who has been marked for death by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and rumor has it that Death Eaters may have already attempted to gain access to Hogwarts itself in an effort to finish what they started. Yet, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore refuses to acknowledge the risk to the students.

“It is the height of irresponsibility to allow Snape to remain at Hogwarts, and it is to be hoped that the Board of Governors of the school will take steps to have Snape removed before tragedy strikes the children.”

Harry grunted in disgust. Pembroke made it sound as if an army of Death Eaters was likely to attack the school at any moment. The article had obviously been written to cause panic and Harry’s heart sank as he realized that it would most likely succeed.

“May I have your attention, please?” Dumbledore called from the head table. “Now that you have all had the opportunity to read this morning’s paper, I must ask you not to believe everything you have read. The article in the Daily Prophet is by no means the full story of the events surrounding Professor Snape’s hospitalization and I can assure you that Professor Snape’s presence at Hogwarts poses no danger to any student in this school. Now, as it is nearly time for classes to begin, I suggest you all finish breakfast so that you can be on your way.”

Dumbledore’s assurances didn’t seem to mollify many of the students, who exchanged wary glances as they grudgingly laid aside their papers, wolfed down the last of their food and gathered their things for class.

“I don’t know how Dumbledore can say that Death Eaters are no danger,” Lavender said worriedly.

“Well, I’m sure they couldn’t really come after Snape here at Hogwarts,” Neville said, not looking entirely convinced.

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Ron said. “Before the day’s out, there are going to be a few hundred owls descending on the school from parents demanding to know what’s going on and somebody had better have some answers.”

---

As it turned out, Ron badly underestimated the number of owls that arrived. On the way to lunch Harry saw a harried seventh year prefect rush up to McGonagall to say that the owlery was being overrun.

“They’re starting to roost in the Astronomy and Divination towers,” the girl told McGonagall. “Professor Trelawney says they’re distracting her inner eye.”

McGonagall muttered something Harry didn’t catch, but knew wasn’t polite, as she hurried away with the prefect, though how she was going to find a place for so many owls, let alone the time to answer their inquires, Harry couldn’t imagine. Surely the prefect had to be exaggerating. Yet every time he glanced out a window, Harry saw more owls arriving. He wasn’t the only one who noticed either. The other students kept stopping to look incredulously out the windows and Harry wondered just how many people could possibly be writing to the school. However, the full extent of the owl invasion only became clear to Harry as he left the castle with the other sixth year Gryffindors for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

There were owls perched on every stone outcropping and in every alcove. They ruffled their feathers on benches and hooted in the trees. Harry and his friends exchanged uneasy glances and hurried to Hagrid’s hut, where happily there were no owls in attendance.

Harry set about feeding his Knarl with more enthusiasm than usual and all went well until a scream drew everyone’s attention. Neville stood clutching his hand as his Knarl scurried off in a huff into Hagrid’s garden. He looked up forlornly as the half-giant appeared at his side.

“I didn’t mean to offend him,” Neville said miserably.

“Never you mind about that,” Hagrid said reassuringly as he examined Neville’s hand. “Nasty bite, that one is. Best get you up to Madam Pomfrey.”

“But what about my Knarl?” Neville asked. They could all hear the creature rummaging through the garden.

“Don’t worry about him,” Hagrid said lightly, sending Neville on his way. “We’ll round ’im up.”

There was an angry snarl from the garden and Harry suspected that rounding up the Knarl might not be as simple as Hagrid made it sound.

“Harry, Ron!” Hagrid called, smiling. “Give us a hand?”

Harry and Ron exchanged pained looks, but went to join Hagrid in the garden. It took the remainder of the lesson to corner the hedgehog-like animal and the garden was much the worse for wear, but Hagrid was undaunted.

“Feisty li’l fella,” he said happily as he deposited the snarling creature back in its pen and dismissed the class.

Ron shook his head in disgust as they headed back up to the castle. “I can think of a few more names for the thing!” he muttered darkly.

Harry grinned, but before he could say anything, he heard a shocked gasp. He stopped and turned towards Hermione who was standing on the path staring up at the castle in shock. The rest of the students had come to a halt and were staring as well. Harry followed their gazes and his jaw dropped.

“That’s a lot of owls,” Dean whispered in awe.

They were everywhere. There were even more owls now than there had been when the Gryffindors had left. Every window ledge, turret and battlement seemed to have sprouted feathers and Harry was filled with an awful sense of dread.

“Come on,” he said grimly. “Let’s get inside.”

---

“Near as we can tell, there have been well over a thousand owls show up,” Ron said as he sank into the corner of the sofa in the common room that evening after dinner. The prefects had met with McGonagall who had assured them that the owls would be dealt with, though she hadn’t said how.

“And not just from students’ families obviously,” Ron continued. “It seems there are all sorts of people who are concerned about security here at school.” Ron shook his head. “You wouldn’t think people would be so skittish.”

“I believe it,” Ginny said, sitting down next to her brother. “Everyone’s terrified of Voldemort.”

“Whatever else we might think of Pembroke, he’s very good at what he does,” Hermione commented, looking up from the Daily Prophet. Harry was certain she’d read the article about Snape at least ten times and wondered that she hadn’t memorized it. She also seemed genuinely concerned by what Pembroke had written and that worried Harry.

“But what’s he up to?” Harry asked. “What’s the point of that article?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s trying to bury us in owl droppings,” Ron said.

“Maybe he’s trying to scare everyone like the Death Eaters did with that attack on Gringotts,” Neville said.

Ginny snorted. “Then I’d say he was successful.”

Harry listened to his friends then glanced at Hermione who had surprisingly offered no opinion. She was frowning in thought and chewing her lower lip.

“What do you think, Hermione?” Harry asked, startling her out of her reverie.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose that must be it,” she said distractedly.

She was lying; Harry knew it. He could sense the worry in her mind, but she looked away before he could identify what was troubling her. Harry looked at the others to see if anyone else noticed Hermione’s odd behavior, but they all seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts.

---

By the next morning, life at Hogwarts had returned to normal. All of the owls that had arrived the day before were gone and there didn’t appear to be any more than usual swooping into the Great Hall. Pembroke’s article seemed to have been forgotten and the day’s Quidditch match was the topic of every conversation. Then the Daily Prophet arrived.

“Blimey! Here’s another one,” Seamus said.

“Another what?” Ron asked, but Hermione was already up and leaning over Seamus’s shoulder to read the paper.

“Motive for Attack Still in Question,” Hermione quoted. She looked at her classmates. “It’s about Snape.”

Something in the way she said it made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. “Can I see it?” he asked.

Seamus nodded and passed him the paper which Harry scanned rapidly. It was a short article in the middle of the front page. One bit in particular caught Harry’s attention.

All that is known for certain is that Snape has long consorted with known or suspected Death Eaters, including the notorious Lucius Malfoy who has been at large since last summer following his daring escape from Azkaban. It is possible that Snape’s association with these dangerous criminals precipitated the attack.

Harry scowled and passed the paper to Ron. Pembroke was clearly insinuating that Snape was working with the Death Eaters and might well be one himself. Harry glanced around the hall, but unlike the previous morning, none of the other students showed much interest in the article. Harry was relieved until it occurred to him that the reason for this was that most students already believed Snape to be a Death Eater and considered Pembroke’s revelation to be old news.

Harry turned back to his classmates and noticed that Hermione wore the same worried expression she had the previous evening.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked pointedly.

Hermione sighed. “I think Pembroke’s an excellent propagandist. You know, what’s maddening is that everything he says is actually true.”

“It’s not the whole truth.”

“No, he picks and chooses the bits he wants and twists everything to make his case.”

“His case?” Ron asked, looking up from the paper. “What’s he trying to do, ruin Snape’s good name? I can’t think of anyone who’s a less likely candidate for that.”

“Ron, don’t be ridiculous!” Hermione snapped, taking the paper from him. “He’s trying to get Snape sacked! Can’t you see that?”

“Sacked? Why?” Neville asked.

“Because he’s a Death Eater,” Harry said. “Pembroke, not Snape,” Harry added at Neville’s confused look.

“Pembroke’s a Death Eater?” Dean asked disbelievingly.

“He has to be,” Hermione answered, brandishing the paper. “It’s the only way these attacks on Snape make sense.”

“I still don’t see why anyone would waste their time trying to get Snape fired,” Seamus said.

“Because Voldemort wants Snape dead and he knows that he’ll never be able to touch him as long as he’s here at Hogwarts,” Hermione explained as her classmates flinched. “On the other hand, if Snape were forced to leave, he’d be vulnerable.”

Hermione tossed the paper onto the table and the other students all stared at it soberly as they considered her words.

“You know,” Ron said finally, “I’m no fan of Snape’s, but I have to admit I wouldn’t want to be him right now. Can you imagine what it would be like to have Death Eaters stalking you, just waiting for the chance to catch you off guard and kill you?”

“Yeah, imagine that,” Harry said dryly.

Ron winced and gave Harry an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“But Dumbledore would never sack Snape,” Ginny said.

“Dumbledore isn’t the only one responsible for that decision,” Hermione said. “The Board of Governors can override him and if we get another thousand owls showing up at school, they might. I don’t know what Pembroke’s plan is, but I doubt we’ve heard the last from him.”

Harry glanced back down at the innocuous looking article. Words could be as dangerous as curses and Pembroke was a master at wielding them. Harry knew all too well just how hard it was to defend against this sort of attack and he felt a knot of fear lodge in his stomach. Reflexively, Harry looked towards the head table, but as was so often the case this year, Dumbledore was away in London for the day. Harry let his gaze wander across the Hall and froze. Malfoy was staring at him and as their eyes met, the Slytherin smirked at him in triumph.

“Get ready, you lot,” Katie said, making her way down the table and diverting Harry’s attention from Malfoy. “We’ve got practice in fifteen minutes. This is the day we’ve been waiting for. I want you all at your best. Potter, you ready?”

Harry glanced back at Malfoy then down at the paper once more. There was nothing they could do about Pembroke at the moment. His jaw set in determination and he nodded at Katie. “Yeah, I’m ready.”