"All right, WHAT?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"I swear to God, Lupin, if you keep staring at me like I'm some circus freak, I will have to castrate you."

Remus choked and hastily looked away.

"Ooh, Sev, you're a circus freak?! That's so fab!"

Jena received a glare in answer to her quip. "Don't encourage him!" Severus snapped.

"Encourage what? He's adorable!"

"The next full moon, I'm locking you in a room with him."

"You're a werewolf?! Aww!"

Remus balked. "Severus! That is far from your business to tell!" he admonished.

"And I'm not someone to stare at while you get food stuck in your teeth!" Remus blushed slightly, tongued his teeth and picked at them with his fingernails; Severus grimaced. "Ugh! Not at the table!" He received a shrug in answer.

Harry watched with a bemused grin. It was like a sitcom, no, it was better than a sitcom! In the two weeks since Lucius Malfoy was carted back to Azkaban (though Harry knew it was only time until he managed to break out again), Dumbledore had a different members of the Order routinely stop by and check in on the trio.  It gave their unconventional summer some extra ‘umph!' and Severus, of course, "bitched and moaned like a teenager on her period." Lizzie's words, of course. But this kept things interesting.

"I think I can keep watch over them just fine, Albus, without werewolves and busy bodies traipsing around my home!" He had argued. Dumbledore only grinned, winked, and adjusted the wards around the town to let the Order in without needing flammable paper passes. This also meant no warnings for Severus, since the members could now pop in and out as they pleased.

Harry didn't mind the company; most of the time he barely noticed. He, Ron, and Hermione were too busy exploring the town and becoming fast friends with Gina, Jay, and Corey - the young witch and wizards they had met at the 4th of July barbeque. On the occasion that an Order member stayed for lunch or dinner, it never interrupted the flow of their new summer. Gone was the road trip and, even though they were loath to admit it, they didn't really care.

It was 10 in the morning, around a week prior to Harry's 17th birthday, when Remus showed up. And although Severus would later deny it, both he and the werewolf were spending quite a bit of time together. Remus, Severus, and even Lizzie had spent the better part of the morning holed up in Severus' office, only emerging right before lunch. The entire group was there except for Georgie, who had stayed at his house to mess around with his wards.

Washing down his ham and Swiss cold cut sandwich with a swig from a bottle of Bud, Severus turned his attention to the trio, "Do you have any plans today?"

Harry shook his head and not so shyly reached for the beer bottle. He had been trying all week to catch a drink and see what was so great about the all mighty Budweiser. Without missing a beat, Severus took another bite of his sandwich with one hand and slapped Harry's hand away from the beer with another.

"Oh, come ON. One sip?"

"As soon as I hand you that bottle, Molly Weasley's Mother-Radar will go off and she'll have my head. So, in the safety of it, which I've grown kind of attached to, let's not and say we did, shall we?"

"Blah, blah, blah," Harry cheeked. "You give us soda against her wishes!"

"Beer is a little different, Mr. Potter."

In a nasally voice, Harry mocked, "Beer is different, Mr. Potter, blah, blah, blah, beer is different!"

"All right, enough!" Severus snapped. He rubbed his face, "How did I get suckered into this?"

"You favor Exxon stations right off of Interstate 88?"

"Uh huh, and you favor grating on my nerves."

"We all do what we're good at!" Harry quipped.

"And you're certainly good at annoying me!"

"Aw, you really think so? That's so sweet!"

Hermione snorted into her sandwich and threw a potato chip at Harry, "You're pretty good at annoying me, too!"

"Nah," Harry smirked, "Ron is definitely better at annoying you than I am."

With his mouth too full to answer, Ron just shot a glare at his best friends, who were giggling and snorting.

"Ooh, the stank eye!" Lizzie said, "I love me a good stank eye! And Ron does it so well!"

Harry, if it were possible, laughed even harder. This, of course, sent Hermione into greater hysterics and only made Ron attempt to glare even harder. But, he could never stay mad at his best friends and, with a sigh, dropped the stank eye and smiled. "Both of you hush up!" He said when he at last swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Remember that time when I hated you but my life was quiet?" Severus asked Harry, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Harry pretended to think for a moment before answering. "Nope."

"Ahha, you're hysterical."

The teen reached for the beer bottle again, "I know."

Smack! "Keep your paws off my Bud!"

Harry rubbed the back of his hand. "You win this time, Old Man."

"I may be old, but at least that means I can drink beer." To add to his point, Severus took a long swig from the bottle. "AHHH! Refreshing."

"You totally suck!"

"Ugh, you learned that from Corey, didn't you?!"

"Nah," Ron piped up, "Gina."

"Lovely."

"Professor?"

"Granger?"

Hermione made a face. "Okay, okay, Severus?"

Nodding in approval, he answered, "Yes, Hermione?"

"Jay told us yesterday that there's a haunted road on Long Island called Mt. Misery, but he said that it wasn't like the ghosts we know of, that it was like the Muggle stories, scary ghosts? Is there any validation behind that?"

"I don't know about Mt. Misery. That's been a teen thrill since as long as I can remember," Lizzie said, "But I do know that the asylum out in East Suffolk is haunted by tortured spirits."

"Oh, come off it, Lizzie. We deal with ghosts daily at Hogwarts," Severus admonished, "and none of them are tortured. They know they're dead and they're able to communicate with the living as if they were still alive."

"No, no, Severus," Remus ignored the stank eye sent from Severus to him, "I know that some wizards refuse to believe it, but not all ghosts are like the ones at Hogwarts. Nearly Headless Nick, the Bloody Baron, all of them are able to communicate better with us because of the magic at Hogwarts, they themselves were wizards once too, so their spirits can be a bit different. Muggle spirits are usually tortured and sad. The only reason a Muggle may stay behind, if you will, is because their death was unsatisfactory in some way."

"You don't actually believe this stuff, do you, Lupin?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It just isn't plausible? Haunted houses and ghosts are things the Muggles use to blame the weird happenings in their lives."

"Well then," Lizzie said before Lupin could answer, "Maybe we should all head out to the asylum tonight and test that theory."

"OH. MY. GOD. YES!"

"Hermione! I don't like it when Gina does that and you're not any different!"

Hermione completely ignored the rebuke. "Can we PLEASE?!"

Ron and Harry put on matching sweet smiles, "Pretty please?! With a cherry on top?!" They said in unison.

"I think we have enough freakiness at the table right now," Severus said, eyeing the two boys. "They're like the freaky twins from The Shining now."

"The what?" Ron asked.

"It's a creepy scary movie that's pretty much AWESOME."Lucy supplied. "We should watch it."

Baylor made a face, "Nah, it's not that good."

"Or are you just scared of it, Bay?!"

He shot Lucy a look, "I hate you."

"Can we still go to that asylum?" Ron asked eagerly.

Severus groaned, "Fine."

"Count me out," Remus said, wiping his mouth and standing. "And don't come crying to me, Harry, when you have nightmares."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm sure I'll be just fine, thanks."

Remus gave Severus a meaningful look, one in which Severus returned; Harry didn't need any more horror in his life, but he was old enough to make his own decisions, even if it meant going into a creepy old asylum and freaking himself out.

"Just floo-call me if you need anything," Lupin said, placing his dishes in the sink.

Severus nodded his acquiescence and Remus apparated out.

"Okay, we're done! Can we go?!" Ron asked after finishing his plate.

"It's better at night," Jena answered.

"And anyway," Lucy said, "we have a movie for you to watch beforehand!"

"Oh! What?" Hermione asked, excited.

"It's called: The House on Haunted Hill."

"Sounds PERFECT," Hermione said, grinning at her two friends.

It was Severus's turn to roll his eyes. "Really, Luce?"

She just smirked and jumped up, "I'll go get it from my house!" She was gone with a crack a moment later.

Jena cleared the table with a flick of her wand and herded the trio into the den. "Sit! Get cozy! I'll make popcorn!"

&&&

Less than two hours later found the trio crushed together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around them and their eyes wide. The credits began to roll.

"Still want to go?" Severus said from the doorway, causing the teens to jump about a mile.

"MERLIN!" Ron gasped.

Harry gripped his chest in fright, "We need to put a bell on you!"

Hermione couldn't talk; her face had gone white. She only glared at her professor.

"I'll take that as a no?" Severus supplied.

"Absolutely not!" Harry said, "I still want to go!"

"Me too!"Ron added. They both looked at Hermione, who looked as if it were an exponentially bad idea to continue with the plan. "'Mione!" Ron whined, "Come ON."

She made a face as if she had just swallowed something nasty, "Ugh, fine. I think that this is a bad idea now, though!" She said over the whoops of her two friends. "Ugh. Boys!"

"Dinner first," Severus said, holding a finger up.

"Bay, Jen, Lizzie, and I voted," Lucy said, walking up behind Severus, "and we had decided, based on an executive decision of, uhm, OURS, that we're going to the diner!"

Ron threw his hands in the air, "BREAKFAST THINGY! ...What?!" He snapped when Harry fell over laughing.

"Same cars as before?" Lucy asked, grinning at the teens.

Severus shrugged, "Sure. Let's go to the one in Massapequa, it's no Dappin, but it's pretty damn good." With the movie momentarily forgotten, the trio, Severus, and his group of friends piled into the Camaro and the Mustang, Lucy took off like a bat out of hell, Jena, Baylor, and Lizzie yelling with delight.

Not to be outdone, Severus dropped his car into second and peeled out, laughing evilly as Ron gripped the ‘oh shit!' bar and Hermione screeched her surprise. Harry, buckled up in the front passenger seat, whooped loudly.

"RACE ‘EM!" He yelled, as Severus took to the shoulder of the entrance ramp onto the parkway to get past Lucy.

"OH. MY. GOD. WE'RE GONNA DIE!" Hermione screamed, clinging to the ‘oh shit!' bar on her side. The Mustang was quick to catch up and with Severus in the left lane and Lucy in the right, it was an all out drag race. "There's another car up ahead!" The young witch warned, but Severus refused to be nonplussed. He just dropped into the shoulder and sped around the other car, surely giving the unknown driver a heart attack and a half.

By the time they arrived at the diner, Hermione was looking queasy and Ron more than a little white. Harry, Severus was pleased to see, was excited and loudly taunting Lucy on her loss in the race.

A host greeted them once they were inside and when they had eaten and indulged in dessert (and Ron scarfed down his entire breakfast thingy AND his dessert AND what was left of Harry's grilled chicken and Hermione's pie a'la mode!), they set out for the asylum. Baylor, Jena, and Lucy opted out, each excuse lamer than the next so that Severus and Lizzie vowed to never let them forget it. But in the end, it was just the trio and the couple, driving down one of Long Island's parkways toward the supposedly haunted property. Severus was driving with Lizzie in the passenger seat, and the trio crammed in the back with Harry in the middle.

Pulling off an exit, Severus made a few turns before switching off the Camaro's headlamps. He drove up the road slowly before coasting to the side. Once everyone had left the vehicle, he cast a disillusionment charm over the car and tapped the heads of everyone present. "The area is sometimes patrolled by cops, am I right, Lizzie?"

"Yeah, as soon as we're in we'll be fine to take the spell off, but until we get there, this is safer than a jail cell." She grinned.

"Oh, this is just LOVELY," Hermione grunted. "Nothing like an illegal night OUT."

"Live a little, ‘Mione!"Ron said, putting his arm around her. Her glare had him stepping away and behind Harry not a moment later. Harry just laughed.

"What's the worst that could happen, Hermione? Severus has to obliviate a few cops? Don't worry so much, we're magical, we'll be fine!"

She sighed, "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right!"

Severus nudged Lizzie, "You know the way, Love, lead on!"

Casting a quick lumos, Lizzie led them into the woods next to where they parked the car; it was just as the last of the sun disappeared over the horizon. Beneath their feet, twigs snapped and skidded and a breeze sifted through the trees, Harry shivered even though the night was warm. An uneasy feeling sunk to the pit of his stomach.

As they neared the site, Harry felt rather than saw the massive building. It wasn't until they clamored over the hill that the vision of the abandoned asylum came into view. Harry stopped short. "Whoa."

"This is going to be just like the movie, isn't it?" Ron asked. His eyes wide with fright.

Severus looked over at the teens; once again, Hermione was scared silent as she stared up at the decrepit building. He glanced at Lizzie, "It's not too late to turn back."

"No way," Harry said, "I'm a damn Gryffindor. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived! I've seen far worse! I can handle this!"

Severus gave him a pointed look, "This is different, this is-" A loud crash sounded from the entrance. Lizzie and Hermione both screamed and hid behind Severus, who had brandished his wand and shoved Harry and Ron behind him as well.

"Okay, maybe I can't handle this!" Harry squeaked.

Lizzie gripped Severus's shoulder and peered around him, "What the fuck was that?!" Out from between the broken doors, a raccoon scurried down the steps and bolted into the woods. "Are. You. FUCKING. KIDDING ME?!"

"I think we're safe, Love." Severus snorted, tucking his wand away.

"Oh my God, MEEKO, STAY AWAY FROM ME FROM NOW ON!"

Hermione laughed loudly at Lizzie's dip into her favorite movie as a child; her ease brought about half by her embarrassment for screaming and half because who could actually stay scared after hearing a Disney reference?

"Okay," said Ron, apparently growing his balls back, "are we ready?"

Harry stood up straight and lifted his chin. "Yes."

There was a snort, an eye roll, and an exasperated, "Gryffindors!" from Severus, but he went largely unnoticed as the group resolutely made their way to the entrance.

"If there are any other raccoons or critters or bums looking for a place to sleep and hide their 40 oz of Old English beer, I will smite you like no one has ever been smitted before!" Lizzie called out as they entered, her wand drawn and her left hand clutching Severus' wrist.

It was the foyer of the building that they entered into. Weather and water had peeled the paint from the walls, leaving them rugged and colored like a mosaic. The floors were soggy where there was carpet and where there was wood, the oak was damaged and unfinished. Leaves blew around them and the once red paint of the walls, as it chipped away, scurried across the floor with them. There was a ripped sofa at the bottom of the stairs that led to the upper levels and several doors leading to other rooms.

Harry laughed quietly and glanced at Ron and Hermione. "Should we split up?"

"Uh, Harry? No. No way. Not a good idea!" Hermione said, "I'm having at least ONE other person with me!" She grabbed Ron's forearm and squeezed tightly, eliciting a loud ‘OW!' from the red head as she did so.

Mischief danced in Harry's green eyes, "Have it your way then!" He said and bounded off to the stairs at the right of the foyer. He was half way up when Severus called out to him.

"Harry!" He threw his arms out. Harry just turned around and grinned. "Got your sense of adventure back, huh?"

"You could say that!" He turned and disappeared onto the next landing. They heard his footsteps as they bounded down a hallway and then, nothing. He had wandered out of their hearing range.

Where Harry was, he didn't exactly know. He walked the hallways, glimpsing into rooms and into the kind of lives the patients here had. Haunted or not, the asylum was creepy. The empty and rusted beds he passed all had cuffs and chains on them and Harry couldn't even imagine what it was like to be chained down.

He thought of his own life, the things that he had been through and his own horrors he had been faced with. For him, his life boiled down to one thing and one thing only-the defeat of the Dark Lord. From there, two things could happen: he could live or he could die. He was not so unlike those who filtered through these doors, was he?

The people trapped between these walls had no way of knowing what their tomorrow would be like. They didn't know if they could ever, would ever, taste the sweetness of freedom ever again, or if they would live to see another year.

They saw these walls, these doors, the men and women charged with their care and they only knew of that. Nothing was certain.

Harry stood in the between world of the doorway. He was neither in a room nor the corridor. He was in-between. The atmosphere he had left behind, the one where he laughed at his fright and joked with Severus had dissipated. A heaviness loomed in the air around him and Harry knew then that he should not have wandered off alone. He was by himself now, in the in-between of this asylum, one that was mimetic to the in-between in his own life.

His eyes fluttered closed and, slowly, he leaned his head against the cold metal. His body shook with a chill that engulfed him. It rolled up his legs and flanked his sides. He felt his breath hitch and his eyes opened, the green staring into the room he was about to enter. With a push, he left the doorway and the world of the in-between. The window he stepped up to was long gone, the glass shattered and under his feet like glitter. They were barred, heavy and iron. Rough to his touch. He was on the fourth floor now, and the view to the outside was a solemn one. The bars blocked a full view, but Harry could see, off in the distance, the town that the patients had to stare at and wish for daily. He felt the emptiness; the loneliness they must have faced while looking down at the town and know that beyond the borders of their own little hell, freedom lay. But they could never even dream to reach it.

He tried to press his face between the bars. Windows were in-betweens as well, but he could not leave the world of the room to enter this in-between. He could only feel the cool metal against his temples.

Harry knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that he should be sweating, that the thick air should be confining him, driving him away. But it wasn't hot. It was cool, almost chilly. Like the bars.

Sighing, he turned away from the window and faced the door. He approached it and closed it, trying to get a feel for what it was to be locked in this tiny room. The door had three dead bolts on it and the metal was four inches thick. There was a small window and a gate to place food onto.

He ran his hand down it like so many had to have before him and closed his eyes. What was this? Who was considered to be so crazy that they had to be locked in a room like a prison cell? Stepping backwards, he sat the bed, listening to it creak and moan with a weight it hadn't felt in years. The walls were bare, their paint chipping just like every other wall in the building. But instead of the red, these walls were just white. Plain white. The door was white and the stained linens were once white as well. Everything: white.

Harry eyed the room. What would life have been like in here, with a white washed room as your home and your only view stunted by the thick black bars that adorned your window, the binary opposites of the white room? Your meds, your food, and your life handed to you on a platter through a bolted gate in the door that was locked twice, once at the gate and once at the thick metal opening.

Were these people really that dangerous?

Was there no convalescence for them? What about him? Harry Potter, the Chosen One. The Boy-Who-Lived? Where was his break? His recovery?

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw movement. When he flung his head around to fully see it, he lost his breath. A boy, about his own age, stood in the corner. His hair and eyes were brown and he was skinny and sallow, the clothes he wore too big for his frame. His arms were bandaged and on his face were burn marks. Harry stood.

"Who are you?"

The translucent figure tilted his head in answer. He walked to the door and it opened without a touch. Looking back, he jerked his head for Harry to follow, and left.

Harry hesitated only a moment before exiting the room and entering the hallway; the in-between passing a chill over his spine.  "Where are you?!" he called to the empty corridor. From around the corner, the boy leaned back into the hallway, jerking his head again to Harry. There was no hesitation this time. Harry took off running, skidding around the corner to see the boy exit into a stairwell. From there, Harry followed him down the steps, down past the first floor and into the basement.

His run took him to a bolted door and he slammed into it with anger. "I can't get through this!" he called out. There was no response. Harry looked over his shoulder, wondering if perhaps there was another door, another hallway, that the boy had ventured into; there wasn't.

He pulled his wand from his jeans and cast a silent alohamora, hoping beyond all hope that the rules in America were different. With a click, the door opened and within its confines was the ghost, standing there, in the room, his head tilted with a question. Harry pocketed his wand and stepped through the doorway and into a space where no living being had entered since the asylum closed down on a cold and rainy day in 1937.

Slower this time, the boy walked to an office, the door stood open, having never been closed and locked, as if the occupier of the room had every intention of returning.

The boy pointed and Harry followed the almost clear finger to a thick file on the desk. He opened it.

"Is this you?" He asked, gently picking up a photo of a boy. The ghost nodded. "Your name was Nickolas DeLaney." Again the ghost nodded. "You came here when you were ten," Harry read, "you were an orphan." He looked up, his chest feeling tight. "I'm an orphan too. My mum and dad were murdered when I was a baby." The boy pointed again to the file, and Harry sat in the old and dusty chair and read. He read about the homes Nickolas was sent to and how, finally, after too many weird occurrences, he was sent here. To the asylum. It didn't click at first. Not until Harry read about the fire.

"On September 17th, 1937, Nickolas, on his third day here, was angry with his nursing staff for not allowing him outside. I, Doctor Stephen Cogan, had my theories on Nickolas' actions which were, as it was, confirmed that day. Nickolas set the door on fire without the need of a match, or wood, or anything flammable. He, with his mind, his anger, charred the door to his room. We, of course, are putting metal into every room now, but what a sight it was. Nickolas, seen through the door, was almost frightened by what he had done. And the fire stayed there. As if it was controlled. I knew it. I have found my first. I will experiment and find the differences; I will find the supposed core. The medicinal world will never be the same."

Harry swallowed. "You were a wizard." Nickolas pointed to where Harry's wand was tucked into his pocket. "And me? Yes. I'm one too." He was gifted with a very small smile and Harry knew that Nickolas had never met another like him before. ‘He must've led countless Muggles down to these rooms,' thought Harry, ‘just waiting for one who could open the door!'

"How did you die?" Harry asked. Again, Nickolas pointed to the file. The pages flipped on their own, through Doctor Cogan's notes, and what Harry saw, the brief passages as they papers turned, churned his stomach. He saw words like ‘cut open,' ‘electrocuted,' and ‘shock therapy.' On the final page was Cogan's last notes. Harry read them aloud:

"I performed a living autopsy on Nickolas. If he were not alive, I feared his magical core would be harder to find. This did, of course, end in his demise, but my staff were clever as always, covering his mouth so that he could not scream and distract me. Inside him, at the base of his spine and up, I saw what looked like a pathway that no other human has. Yet, it was not until Nickolas took his last breath that I saw anything. He had already succumbed to shock and was finally bleeding out. As soon as his heart stopped, I saw it. Sparks. Around us, the lights were exploding, the windows shaking and breaking. His magic was fighting for one last chance. And it was over. But I had found it. I had found the magical core."

Harry was going to be sick.

"How could they do that to you?" A tear slipped down his cheek. As silent as he had been since Harry had first seen him, Nickolas had moved to the doorway. He beckoned Harry to follow, and so, the teen put down the file and stood, his stomach rolling at the thought of what the boy in front of him had been put through.

Nickolas led him down the hall and into the morgue.  On the far wall, a blackboard that may have once housed the names of those being stored stood cracked and dusty against it. In the dust, a word formed. ‘Friend?'

"What?" Harry asked, "Me?" Nickolas nodded. "I...I can try, I guess."

The ghost walked over to the side wall, rows and rows of cold chambers lined it. He opened one and the slab slid out. With a nod of his head, he gestured Harry to it.

"Is there something in there?"

Again, Nickolas nodded. Harry didn't know what else to do. He sat on the slab and pushed himself inside. Lying on his side, Harry cast a lumos and looked around; eyeing the slick metal of the rectangular box he was in. He could see Nickolas standing there, watching him. "There's nothing in here!" Harry said. He moved and turned around, so that his head was near the opening. "Help me out?"

But Nickolas did not move. "Okay." Harry said, moving his arms to pull himself out. Nickolas pointed to the board. "Yes, I get it. Friend. What's in here to constitute that?"

There was a pause and Harry felt a deep chill settle down his back. "Nickolas? What's in here?" The ghost pointed at Harry and the door swung shut, the finality of the latch sliding into place barely heard over the sound of his own breathing.