Hermione nudged Harry in the ribs with her elbow to get his attention. Harry grunted and remained where he was. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to get up, it was more that he couldn’t really. Sleep was so rare these days….

Of course, they were in potions. “Where on earth else could they possibly be?” thought Harry pessimistically. Figures the one time he’d actually felt seriously tired would be in this class. Harry neatly folded his arms across the table in front of him and rested his chin lightly on his hands. Snape was lecturing about some kind of potion that could put someone to sleep, or something like that. Harry wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t particularly care to know.

Harry jerked in surprised at the hot feeling on his leg. Oops, he’d put his leg too close to the fire. He certainly hadn’t been awake before, but he was now. Harry dowsed the fire with a wave of his wand and looked over at his friends. Hermione, ever so clever and equally just as strict, looked exasperated while Ron covered his snicker of amusement. Snape stopped his lecture and gave the trio a hard glare. They sobered up immediately, Ron and Harry both putting on their most innocent expressions. Snape’s eyes narrowed but he turned away from them to continue with his lecture.

Harry air hi-fived Ron and gave Hermione a look that said, “Oh you know you love us.” Hermione just shook her head and went back to her notes the corners of her mouth upturned. Ron and Hermione had both been looking a little more concerned than normal but Harry decided to brush it off. It was typical, these days, for them to have that underlying look.

Harry let his chin drop back onto his hands and let his thoughts run to the most recent of events. Voldemort, curse the man, certainly wasn’t making things any easier for him once again. He still hadn’t told Ron and Hermione about not being able to sleep at all. Oh he knew they thought he wasn’t sleeping enough and that alone was enough to make them worry. But that was no longer the case anymore. For the past few days Voldemort had been relentlessly wandering his mind looking through his memories and tearing hole after hole through his defenses.

Harry knew that the number one thing he could not afford to do now was sleep. He most certainly couldn’t say how he knew; it made only a small amount of sense. After all, what did sleep have to do with Dark Lords wandering his mind? Harry couldn’t find where his rational was coming from…he just knew. He knew that the moment he slipped into sleep something terrible would happen. He was so sure and because he was he’d taken many precautions against falling into the mercy of dreams. Imagine, with a dark lord lording over his very thoughts….

Harry felt the man in his head chuckle and sighed. He would have to go to Dumbledore after class for sure this time. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort’s reign of terror in his head would take him. He would have gone sooner except that he didn’t want to bother the man. Dumbledore had looked awfully busy these past few days, what with all the preparations for the Tri-Wizard Tournament and all. Harry didn’t want to burden him. Besides…Harry barley knew the man. Being a fourth year, he hadn’t had much to do with the headmaster of Hogwarts. Sure he’d met with him a few times, and even had an occasional chit chat with him...but he’d never considered himself close to the man. It just wouldn’t feel right….

Then again, having a Dark Lord in his head didn’t feel right either….

Harry looked up at the time and let out a long breath. Finally! Three minutes till class was over, thank the stars. He grabbed his bag and looked at Ron who was grinning from ear to ear, eager to get out of the dungeons.

The bell rang and Harry stood up to follow his classmates, just as eager as Ron to get away from the slimy git of a potions master. A jolt shot down through him from his scar to his feet and Harry had to grab his desk to keep from falling. A strange feeling passed over his face and red hot pain seared through his eyes. He cringed and fell forward onto the desk kicking over his chair and accidentally sweeping off a glass vial that had been resting at the edge. The sound of glass breaking and the bang of the chair caught more attention than one would think it should. Hermione turned to look at him and paled drastically grabbing onto Ron for what looked like support. Harry, personally, thought this was a bit dramatic. Sure he felt sick but he wasn’t dying or anything important like that. Harry pulled himself up and glanced towards Snape. His teacher’s eyes widened when they met his and Snape began to make his way over with long quick strides.

Harry felt another jolt fire through him from his scar, this one like a flash of lightning. His nose twitched and a horrible smell like hot brimstone filled his nostrils. Oh crap, was his skin of fire? It certainly felt like it. A sharp and precise twinge in his scar sent him reeling to his knees. The pain was so intense his eyes began to sting and something warm and wet trailed down his cheeks from them. He cringed and brought a hand up to wipe it away. Oh Merlin was he crying!? He pulled his hand away and looked at it. Wait, that wasn’t right….

Since when were tears red?

Snape stopped a few feet from him looking as though he’d seen a ghost. He looked wildly around for something. Fear flooded over his face, which was paler than it normally was. He looked less Snape-like than Harry had ever seen him before and if it had been any other time Harry might have had a good laugh.

The students that were still in the classroom ran out quickly leaving only a convulsing Harry, a distraught Hermione, a struggling Ron, a fearful Snape, and surprisingly Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy. Neville was white as a sheet and had backed away towards a wall his head shaking from side to side as if he couldn’t believe it. Malfoy gave Harry an odd look and, to Harry’s initial shock, grabbed a hold of Hermione’s other side and hauled her away from Harry with Ron’s help. Ron only glanced at Malfoy momentarily, in surprise, and then turned his attention back to Harry.

A shrill whistling sound met Harry’s ears and he crumpled down into himself his face skewed, both his hands clamped tightly over his throbbing ears. He was shaking badly now, more so than he’d ever done before. Something wet and sticky seeped through the fingers that covered his ears but he didn’t dare take the time to think about it. It took him moments to realize that Hermione was wailing his name like a banshee. His concern for her spiked the pain in his head double fold.

Snape abandoned looking for whatever it was he was looking for and rushed to Harry. Harry lifted a shaky hand to signal Snape to keep away. The last thing he needed right now was to be told how weak he was being or for Snape to once again call him an attention seeking brat like his father. He hoped with all his being that Snape knew he wasn’t faking or doing this on purpose. Otherwise Harry knew he’d wake up later to detention for the rest of the school year and negative house points. He cried out as a burning sensation racked through him and he choked on something wet that welled up in his throat. His eyes bulged and prickled again, more intensely than before, and something pressed into them from behind. A blackness he’d only met few times before in his life settled on the edge of his vision.

Feeling more scared then he’d ever felt before, he threw caution to the wind and panicked. He opened his mouth and let out a wet and throaty bellow that was abruptly cut off by something filling his airways. He choked again and then vomited red, gasping for air and feeling warmth spread across his limbs and wet seep from every part of him. It was warm, too warm, and it felt like he was sweating buckets of water from every pour in his body. He looked to the ground as it gathered his perspiration and wasn’t at all surprised to see that it too was red. Had his vision taken a tint of some kind? He was soaked in it; the entire floor was nearly covered as well. The hand he wasn’t holding up reached down to touch the sticky substance and he felt sick with realization. Red…blood? Feeling strangely surreal and stupid, his instincts had him quickly glance upwards towards the clock.

Any curse he would have uttered died on his lips as the tunnel in his eyes grew narrower. His vision was now almost completely gone and Snapes cool voice was drifting further away from him much to Harry's chagrin. He couldn’t breathe now, it was over. His lungs were brimming with what he now knew to be blood. His blood. And instead of ominous black in his vision he saw red and green fighting for dominance. The symbolism did not escape him though the message was obscure. Hermione’s shrill yell, which had begun to sound remarkably like his mothers, faded to the background and a deep chilling laugh replaced it.

Harry felt his limbs go numb, a fuzzy feeling as if his whole body had fallen asleep on him, and cold seeped into him to replace any warmth he had felt earlier. Had he bleed himself dry? He recalled faintly that he’d vowed to himself not to fall asleep. To sleep would ultimately be the worst possible thing that could happen to him.

As he sunk into the comforting folds of red and gold he realized that he was no longer in control of his own body. His hand, which was still stretched out towards the kneeling Snape, twitched and moved on its own accord and before Harry had time to think something settled in his place and he felt himself forcibly pushed back into a void where nothing and everything could ever reach him. He grasped wildly at the only memory that seemed of real importance. One look at the clock had told him all he needed to know. Four minutes was all it took for a monster to take over. He closed his mind to the darkness and fell….

’~’~’~’~’~’~’~’~’~’

Harry’s hand twitched and moved faster than it had ever moved before. In one smooth motion he had drawn his wand and was pointing it right between Severus Snape’s eyes. Snape froze and looked, for all he was, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to move an inch and unable to think clearly.

Harry lifted his bloody face and met Snape's shocked black eyes with his cold red ones. “Severus?” He hissed. Snape barely had the presence of mind to nod slightly, still unable to get himself to move. Harry stood up from the floor as though he’d never fallen and stretched his body up towards the ceiling as though marveling in that ability alone.

“I could…get used to this I suppose,” said Harry, aiming his wand at the wall opposite and blasting a hole in it. “The wand is powerful as well….”

Hermione and Ron’s mouths had dropped open. Neville had fallen to the floor in a dead faint. Snape remained kneeling on the floor still unable to move. Draco Malfoy, the only sane person in the room, made a mad dash for the dungeon door but skid to a halt as it closed with a bang. Gulping he turned around to find hideous glowing red eyes fixed on him.

He knew it wasn’t Harry Potter anymore. He’d gathered that much when Harry had doubled over in pain and had come back up with red eyes, blood trailing down his face from his scar, and his face paler that Draco had ever seen it. He had known when Potter began to sweat red and vomit blood that he was not going to be "Potter" for much longer. Seeing Harry Potter cry tears of blood had been enough to make someone as painfully coward-like as Draco Malfoy know better still to run than to fight.

But for some reason he had stayed. And for some reason he couldn’t help but still see Harry Potter. And for some stupid reason, he was about to do what no sane person would ever do. Okay, maybe there wasn’t anyone in the dungeons who was sane tonight.

“Potter…scared of a little blood?” Draco sneered while he said it too because frankly that’s all he could think of doing. He knew he was hardly making sense, silly really, Potter SHOULD have been afraid of that much blood. This was most certainly not something he’d ever been confronted with before. He knew, before the words were even out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have played with fire, knew and yet his pride told him otherwise. If Draco had had time, which he’d find himself doing later anyways, he would have told his pride to sod off. As it was....

Harry eyes flashed, his wand moved an inch and Draco Malfoy was wrapped in purple light and knew no more.

Snape jumped to his feet and would have ran to Draco had he not been stopped by a curse that he barely managed to duck, putting him further away from Draco. Snape stood up quickly and focused on Harry.

Harry was looking at Snape without emotion, “Not only did I not say that anyone was welcome to leave…I did not give anyone permission to move either. You would do well to remember such things, servant….” whispered Harry, knowing full well that he had the attention of everyone except the unconscious in the room. Harry reveled in it; he was born to stand out.

“Do you…know who I am?” Harry was looking at Snape still, who was looking at Harry’s nose instead of his eyes and thinking as quickly as he could, but the question was meant for the others in the room. “I know who you two are…I know who both boys are that lay on this floor. I should kill you both just because He values you.” Harry smiled and turned to Ron and Hermione who still had their mouths open in shock.

“But I won’t, I need you. You may yet be of use to me. Here’s the deal my soon to be servants,” began Harry in a drawl, “I’m going to fix young Harry Potter’s body so that he looks…as normally as the famous Boy-Who-Won’t-Die can look. You two aren’t going to even so much as peep a word about this. In fact, you’re going to make sure I’m more Boy-Who-Lived like than ever before.” He looked them each in the eyes and Hermione began to cry. Ron wrapped an arm around her for her comfort as much as his own. Harry raised a lip in disgust but continued, “Harry Potter is gone.” Hermione sobbed and clutched at Ron. Ron looked at Harry angrily…but his gaze softened as he realized that he was looking at his best friend.

Harry chuckled, clearly amused by both the agony and the sentimentality. How wonderful to have someone who cared so much for his body. “Severus is already a loyal servant of mine,” Harry sent Snape a look that was almost lovingly tender, like a proud parent would give a child. Snape stiffened and cleared himself of all emotions already working a plan into motion.

“I could make you both powerful,” continued Harry in an enthralling voice, “You would love me more than you already love my body. You could have everything you’ve ever desired.” Harry’s face, already accustom to the other person who’d taken over, was torturously wonderful to look at. The Dark side certainly made Harry look lovely, even with blood all over him. Ron’s glare continued to falter and Hermione didn't dare look at Harry at all. She sobbed her heart out into Ron’s already soaked sleeve. “Join me.” Finished Harry in a tempting voice. He looked more powerful than ever saying those two words. Even Snape was tempted to join him all over again. Snape shook his head, remember his vows, and moved swiftly into action.

His wand was out in a heartbeat and curses were flying from it sooner than that. Harry’s eyes narrowed and he twisted quickly, quicker than Harry Potter had ever moved, and not one curse hit him. His own wand remained lowered at his side and he held it in a way that only the Dark Lord Voldemort would touch a wand. He cocked his head and circled around Snape in an almost curious manner.

“I have clearly miscalculated you Severus. What are your motives? Exactly what are you trying to accomplish?” Harry, who circled him like he was pray, whispered the words as though they were a symphony. Snape stood still and hoped that the two idiot children could take a hint. Knowing them he’d probably have to spell it out for those two particular Gryffindors. Merlin, why couldn’t Granger be in Ravenclaw?

But from the corner of Snapes eye he could easily spot the two Gryffindors giving each other looks. Snape could only hope that they’d be able to think of something.

“I am in front of Dumbledore’s children and inside his walls master…it would be unwise to let this happen-” A glare from Harry cut him off and Snape couldn’t help but notice that a faint tint of green shone behind those red eyes. He didn’t dare hope of course, but maybe Potter could actually pull through for once. Was it the moving around? Perhaps it was the casting of spells? Or maybe it was only a matter of time….

Snape glanced quickly at the clock. It was eleven forty three; class had ended thirteen minutes ago. Potter was taken in almost four minutes exactly. It had been nine minutes since the Dark Lord had taken over Potters mind. Did Potter look a little more ill than he did nine minutes ago?

Harry wiped a bit of sweat off his brow and Snape mentally gaped. It WAS time! The longer they held out the more tired Harry would get. Snape made up his mind in an instant, unwilling to drag it out anymore than necessary for fear of someone getting hurt. He would have to speed up the process.
Snape fell into a distinct fighting stance and followed Harry movements with his eyes. Harry in turn, narrowed his eyes. “So you have betrayed me then Severus? Were you the spy?” Harry suddenly grinned looking every bit the maniac that his was. Snape said nothing concentrating fully on what he intended to do.

He needn’t have bothered.

Hermione raised her wand at Harry with tears in her eyes and concentrated hard. Snape was distracting Harry well enough to where she would be able to take the time to do it properly. The spell itself had no words. The importance of the spell was intent. The white light that burst from Hermione’s wand hit Harry hard in the back and he immediately toppled forward into Snape. Snape caught him and they both sank to the ground in each other’s arms. Snape didn’t bother with asking what spell Hermione used.

Snape, panting slightly, looked up at the two Gryffindors, who’d slowly made their way over, and nodded gratefully. With a bit of difficulty he turned Harry over so they could see his face. The boy was breathing, thank Merlin, but his eyes did not move beneath his eye lids. The dead mind spell would never allow its host to dream. In fact, the host wasn’t even allowed sleep. The mind was not at rest under this spell, instead it was frozen. No thoughts would pass through; no action would meet with Harry’s brain until he was released from it. It would not harm the host, but it would not fix any of their problems either.

Snape gently lifted one of Harry’s eyelids and sighed in relief. Green, the purest green he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. They were more intensely green than before and Snape really did hope that that was a good thing. Harry scar was still bleeding but not as profoundly as before. Doing a diagnostic spell with his wand Snape began to asses that Harry’s injuries weren’t life threatening, minus an extreme amount of blood loss. Snape did a quick stabilizing spell on him then looked up at the two Gryffindors and stared into each of their eyes with a look that was scary in its intensity.

“Get Professor Dumbledore.”

When Dumbledore came he would find to his greater shock that Severus Snape did not lay Harry Potter down on the ground but cradled his fragile figure in his arms the entire time it took for Dumbledore to reach the two.

Harry felt the shift in his mind immediately and tried to roll over into a blissfully deep sleep. Oh he hadn't slept in ages, imagine how good it would feel if he could, even if it was just for ten minutes. He wanted to tell the voices in the background to shut up…but he was too tired to be bothered by them. He drifted away into the land of sleep…lost to the world….

Harry suddenly felt very wet and very cold. He shot up from his bed and wiped wet hair out of his eyes with a shaky hand. His bed? No, not his bed, a bed in the Hospital Wing, the same one he'd become accustom to over the past four years. Harry looked around wildly unable to see in the blinding light of the day. While shifting his body this way and that, he noticed that his clothing was soaked in what appeared to be water. Who in Merlin's name decided to dress him in wet pajamas? A voice that sounded strangely like Ron's said, "oh good, he's awake."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice jolted him out of his thoughts and he grunted in surprise as her weight settled over sore body. "Hermione?" He tried to whisper, but it came out as a choked rasp. Hermione quickly jumped up and move away from him. She came back holding a cup of liquid in her hands, "here, drink this. It'll help with your throat." She passed the cup into his shaky hand and wrapped her smaller ones around his to keep the cup steady.

Harry drank the water slowly, relieved that indeed it did sooth his aching throat. Why on earth did his throat ache again? He gave the cup back to Hermione and looked up at the people surrounding his bed finally able to see that both his two best friends and Dumbledore had gathered around the edges of it. While Hermione set the cup on his bedside table he let his thoughts wander and tried to remember what had happened to him. Then the memories rushed back to him all at once and he paled drastically and shot up, only to fall back down again onto the bed. Ron and Hermione rushed forward and pushed him back into a half up half down position to rest against his pillow.

"Stay," said Ron firmly, looking more terrified than Harry had ever seen him look before. Dumbledore walked forward and patted Harry gently on the shoulder, "I'm sorry Harry, but we had to make sure that once the spell was removed we could wake you. You were fighting my best attempts at spelling you awake. I'm afraid I was forced to dowse you in water." Dumbledore quickly spelled away the water, much to Harry relief, and settled at the edge of Harry bed. "Professor Dumbledore," Harry began frantically. Dumbledore shook his head and turned to ask Harrys friends if they could give Harry and him a moment. Hermione and Ron gave Harry one final look of worry and then they left, leaving him alone with Dumbledore. Harry just watched them go feeling slightly betrayed.

"Harry," Harry jerked his eyes back to Dumbledore's face, "what do you remember?" Harry looked away from him in favor of looking at the wall opposite of his bed. "I wasn't supposed to fall asleep," he began….

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

Madam Pomfrey didn't let Harry leave for the rest of the day no matter how much Harry begged her. Dumbledore had left after having a two hour conversation with Harry and had promised to come back when he figured out how Harry would be able to sleep safely. Dumbledore had strictly forbidden the meda witch from making Harry sleep, no matter what circumstances came about. He'd neglected to tell her, though, why and so Harry was forced to listen to her muttering all day about meddlesome old cots, young boys needing their rest, and "Look at him Albus, he needs sleep. He looks as though he hasn't slept in days." Dumbledore had also taken the time to make Harry a device that would make sure he wouldn't sleep. "Trust Dumbledore," thought Harry with a smile, "to be clever enough to come up with something that not only will keep me awake but will also amuse me to no end." Harry chuckled again as the silver band around his head sent gentle tickling fingers down his body. He must have been falling asleep again to his thoughts.

Harry stood up and walked slowly over to a window ignoring the meda witch in the background in favor of the setting sun in the sky. It was seven something in the evening, almost nine hours since the initial attack on his brain, and Harry, for all he could remember, had never felt so tired before in his life. Nor could he remember ever feeling so weary for that matter. He wanted to sleep but feared it more dearly that even a Dementor. And from what Dumbledore had told him he was right in his fears.

So he'd turned into Voldemort, had he? Harry watched a owl soar above the trees with mild amusement. Dumbledore had said Harry was right to have been so caution but wrong to not have come to him sooner. Harry had neglected to tell the headmaster why exactly he'd held out for so long but Dumbledore had given him a look that said "I know," when Harry had tried to explain so they'd left it at that. Harry couldn't help but admire the man's strange appeal. He giggled a little as warm invisible fingers taped him lightly on the head to wake him up once more.

Harry thought about what the headmaster had said to him after he'd explained the colors behind his eyes and the world going black. Dumbledore believe that because Voldemort had realized that Harry was far stronger than He'd given him credit for, He had also realized that if Harry went to Dumbledore, as Harry was planning to do, He might not have had another shot at gaining control. And because Voldemort had so forcefully pushed His way into Harry mind He had torn out any defenses Harry might have been able to have used against Him in the long run, which was exactly what He had been going for. Unfortunately for the Voldemort, and fortunately for them, because He did not have a solid form to call His own and return to, Voldemort was left in a weakened state. Hence the ill look He had worn as time passed while he possessed Harry's body. Voldemort had succeeded where He had failed physically before but at a terrible price to Himself.

"If He were to recover, it would be devastating for you and, in turn, for all of us," Dumbledore had said very seriously. "The moment He does recover He'll realize just how much easier it will be for Him to take you over next time, and make no mistake there will be a next time. With Voldemort in your body, controlling your mind, you would be virtually unstoppable, even to me." The absence of Dumbledore's twinkling eyes had Harry shivering in fear. What was he to do? He didn't feel any different. Had Voldemort really ripped apart his mind just so that he could take it over and rebuild his own in its place? If that was truly the case then how come Harry didn't feel anything at all up there? Sure he felt slightly violated…and his thoughts were skewed this way and that, but that was really no different than anything he'd felt in there before.

A door opened behind him and Harry jumped in surprise missing the last rays of the sun disappearing beneath the hills near Hogwarts. He turned to find that Ron and Hermione had finished with dinner in the great hall and had come to check on him.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione's light brown eyes were puffy but she looked as though Christmas had come early just by seeing him up and at it.

"I've been better," said Harry, grinning a little, "I heard from Dumbledore that you were the one who cursed my mind to death." Hermione flinched and looked down. Harry walked over to her and pulled her into a warm hug. "And I'm eternally grateful. From what I understand I was acting like a pompous git," he finished gently.

Hermione clutched at him and buried her face into the crock of his neck. Harry looked at Ron helplessly and gestured to Hermione. Ron shrugged and gently unfolded Hermione from Harry unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. He made sure Hermione could stand well enough on her own accord, and then he launched himself at Harry knocking them both back, a good three feet, onto a random hospital bed. Harry felt his breath leave him as Ron's full weight settled on top of him and he made a small pft sound despite his best efforts not to. He heard Hermione's giggle and made a horrified face into Ron larger and stronger shoulder. "Ron!" Harry pushed at Ron who stood up slowly rubbing the back of his head bashfully. "Sorry mate," muttered Ron.

Harry sat up on the bed and looked at his two best friends. Hermione was still giggling and Ron was shooting her looks, his face as red as a tomato.

Harry grinned. This was what life was about. "So, anything I've missed lately...?"

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

Harry paced back and forth in front of his bed. Dumbledore should have been here by now, that old man, why wasn't he here already? Harry did not laugh at the tickling sensation on the back of his neck. He scratched at it irritably and sulkily sat at the edge of his bed, hospital pajamas more comfortable then they'd ever been. It was now nine at night, Ron and Hermione had been shooed out by Madam Pomfrey half past eight. The sun had completely set now and the castle was quiet. Harry was more tempted than ever to sleep…the bed was so comfortable it was painful. Where in the world was Dumbledore!?

Harry stood up again and began to pace. The meda witch had taken an early leave to her office and had finally stopped muttering about silly old men not letting young boys sleep. Harry was sincerely grateful for that bit of luck. A door to Harry's right creaked open and he scampered towards it, word's already leaving his mouth.

"Thank Merlin, I thought I was going to fall asleep standing up. Where in magic's name have you…" Harry trailed off as he looked at who had entered the Hospital Wing. "Been," he finished horror flashing across his face. Snape looked down at him with a sneer on his face and opened his mouth to say something. Harry spotted the person behind Snape and beat him to the punch.

"What's HE doing here," growled Harry aggressively at Dumbledore. He pointed towards Snape to emphasize. Snape scowled and shoved Harry's finger from in front of his person roughly.

"Don't forget who you're addressing Potter. Impudence is not something I tolerate in my presence," snarled Snape. As if to get his point across he continued, "thirty points from Gryffindor and detention for the rest of the year." Harry gaped at him unable to help himself. Thirty points he could handle but detention for the rest of the year! What in Merlin's name was this man playing at? Harry, outraged beyond belief, was more awake now then he'd been all day. He opened his mouth to protest but Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.

"Harry, Professor Snape is here because it was requested by me," explained Dumbledore gently. "He also gave you detention for the rest of the year because of something we need to talk about." Harry looked at Dumbledore with wide, confused eyes. "Please…have a seat," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards Harry's unkempt Hospital bed. Harry flushed and sat down quickly, embarrassed by his outburst and feeling a strong need to apologies to Dumbledore who had never been anything but kind to him.

"Sorry Professor Dumbledore," he muttered softly. Harry looked up at Dumbledore's bright and twinkling eyes that were more forgiving than he could bare them to be. He quickly looked away towards the window and then settled his eyes back onto Snape's dark form. "Professor," said Harry as he turned back towards Dumbledore, "why did you ask Professor Snape to join us?" This time Dumbledore held his gaze.

Dumbledore motioned towards Snape to sit down while strolling over to sit across from Harry. Snape glared and didn't move inch, his mouth fixed into a permanent scowl. Dumbledore perched on the edge of the bed next to Harry's and looked him in the eyes. "I cannot be of as much help to you as Professor Snape can, Harry. I spoke with him earlier about your predicament and we both agree," Dumbledore looked over his half moon spectacles at Snape, "that he could possibly be your best and only defense against Lord Voldemort." Snape flinched and glared some more at Dumbledore but didn't bother to correct him. As it was, Dumbledore had turned back to Harry who was looking at his headmaster in surprise.

"I don't understand sir, how can Professor Snape help," said Harry still looking quite baffled, if not a little mortified. Dumbledore smiled at Harry, "Professor Snape is connected to Voldemort by way of the Dark Mark. Do you recall what the Dark Mark is?" Harry lowered his head and furrowed his brows. Thinking back to the beginning of the year he recalled the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. It had been explicitly scary because of the Dark Mark's appearance and later Hermione had explained to him that it was Voldemort's sign.

"I know what it is sir, it's Voldemort's mark right? It's what Voldemort uses to signify that whatevers happened was his doing." Harry looked up and met Dumbledore's eyes again, "But how could that possibly be a connection between him and Professor Snape?"

Suddenly, and without warning, Snape dashed forward and jerked his sleeve up to reveal his inner left forearm. There, faded and washed out, Harry saw the same Skull and Snake symbol he'd seen at the Quidditch World Cup and in his dreams. He jerked back and looked up at Snape in horror. Snape sneered weakly and pushed his arm closer to Harry, "this is my reward for following Him." Snape quickly dropped his arm and his sleeve fell back over the ugly form that was so much more than just a scar. He stood stiffly for a moment, and then looked away from Harry as though the very sight of him was disturbing. Harry felt a small twinge of empathy for the man. He'd obviously gone through something horrible and just talking about it was bringing back memories. If Harry hadn't know any better, he'd say that underneath all that severity the greasy git might've actually had a heart. But Harry knew better…four years in this man's presence had told Harry everything he needed to know about slimy potion masters and their problems with golden Gryffindor boys.

"Potter," spat Snape, still unable to look at Harry, "whenever someone joins ranks with the Dark Lord they are branded with the Dark Mark on their inner left arm area. It is a symbol of possession. The Dark Lord owns all his followers." Snape had finally turned to look at him, but Harry had recoiled back towards the head board of his bed. "Oh don't be silly Potter it's not going to bite you!" Snape grimaced and took several steps towards Dumbledore and away from Harry. Harry, for one, wasn't in the least afraid that Snape Dark Mark would bite him. The potion master himself was what Harry was really weary of.

Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in and sat up straight without taking his eyes off Snape. "So you're one of Voldemort's," breathed Harry in a soft voice. He moved his eyes to Dumbledore who had nodded in affirmation.

"Yes, very good Potter, perhaps there is a brain in there somewhere after all." Snape sniffed in disdain and looked down his nose at Harry. Harry, ignoring Snape, didn't take his eyes off Dumbledore and waited patiently for an explanation.

"Professor Snape came to me and offered himself to be a spy at a great personal risk. We were losing the war Harry, drastic measures had to be taken and I accepted his offer. We did what we had to do to make peace with the world and end Voldemort's reign. Professor Snape has sacrificed so much more than you could possibly understand, to our cause, Harry." Dumbledore leaned forward so that he was closer to Harry, "Let me assure you, though, that he has my greatest confidence. He is absolutely on our side, not Voldemort's." Dumbledore shockingly blue eyes bore deep into Harry's vibrant green ones, as he said this, and Harry numbly nodded his head, without breaking eye contact. If Snape was good enough for Dumbledore then who the heck was he to say otherwise? He may not have liked the man personally or as a person at all, but if Dumbledore said Snape was good…so be it.

"Excellent, now Harry I must ask you to do something for me that I know you'll immediately reject. I know you and Professor Snape are not on great terms," Harry snorted and Snape rolled his eyes, scowl firmly fit on his face. Harry mentally laughed at how that was defiantly the understatement of the century. Dumbledore merely smiled at both of them and continued. "I'm well aware of the strenuous relationship the both of you share, but I'm going to ask that you both put that aside for now."

Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started in surprise, unaware that he'd been slightly lolling off. He nodded his thanks, stood up and stretched, and looked over at Dumbledore.

"I've asked Professor Snape here today, Harry, to teach you the arts of the mind. Prepare yourself!" Dumbledore voice had gone stern and Harry stiffened in surprise. "This will be the most difficult challenge you've ever had to face. It is the only way you will be able to fight off Lord Voldemort's efforts to control your mind. You may very well end up having to Play Host with the most dangerous dark wizard of our time if you do not succeed." Harry's eyes widened and went from Dumbledore's to Snape's in confusion. Snape looked as though he'd just eaten something particularly sour that he couldn't spit out. Dumbledore shot Snape a look. Snape nodded and stepped forward into Harry personal space, the sour look he'd worn quickly replaced with a determined one. Harry shook off an ominous feeling and fought to stay where he stood.

"Potter," drawled Snape, "what do you know about the art of Occlumency?"

“Um, I’ve never even heard of it,” answered Harry after a moment’s hesitation. He felt a twinge of disappointment at how incredibly anti-climatic his answer was. Dumbledore and Snape exchanged unreadable looks with each other, and then Dumbledore nodded his head again.

Snape stepped back away from him and Harry sighed in relief. Snape, in turn, huffed in frustration, and began rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, clearly annoyed.

“Did it ever occur to you,” mumbled Snape, sounding oddly weary, “that we have a library in this castle for a reason?” Harry looked away from him and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, knowing full well why he tended to avoid the library in the first place. The library was Hermione’s kind of thing; it was her place not Harrys. Harry would much rather sit in the common room and play wizards chess with Ron. Or go wandering around the castle looking for another great adventure with the Marauders map and his Dads invisibility cloak. “In fact,” he thought with humor, “the library is more for girls anyways.”

“Have you ever even been in a library before, do you even know what it is,” snapped Snape when Harry didn’t answer immediately. Harry opened his mouth in protest, face flushed red with anger. Dumbledore moved swiftly to Harry side and place a warm and comforting hand on his shoulder and look at Snape in warning.  

“Severus,” said Dumbledore reproachfully, a frown forming behind his beard, “do try to remember what it was like to be young. You forget so easily that you were once in young Harry’s place at one time or another,” he finished slowly looking deep into Snape’s eyes. Snape scowled and fumed silently, his joints stiff and unmoving. Dumbledore gave Snape one final, firm, glance that made Snape sniff and turn his head. Harry let Dumbledore steer him towards his hospital bed, feeling extremely happy to be away from Snape, even if it was only by a few feet. As Harry sat down, once again, and got comfortable, Dumbledore gave him a small smile. 

“Such an explanation, at least for something as complex and mind altering as Occlumency, is tiring. It’s so very late already as it is. Perhaps tomorrow, when you start your detentions with Professor Snape, he’ll be able, and more willing, to give you the details on what you’ll be learning,” said Dumbledore soothingly. Harry, who’d been gazing down at folded hands lying in his lap, jerked his head up to stare at his headmaster. An expression of incredulous disbelief had spread across his face in place of his confusion and anger.

“What,” he barked, before he had time to stop himself. Was Dumbledore for real!? Was the man actually going to make Harry spend the rest of the year in detention with Snape, of all people? Did Dumbledore think he had a death wish?

But from the stern look the headmaster was giving him, Harry realized that that was indeed exactly what Dumbledore had in mind. He was going to do such a thing to Harry. He gaped at the man, forgetting himself entirely. He felt more betrayed now than he had when his friends had left him to Dumbledore. 

It was one thing to leave him with someone who would most certainly protect him at all costs. Harry really couldn’t blame Ron and Hermione anyways; Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, for crying out loud. If Dumbledore felt like it, he could almost do whatever he wanted and no one could say otherwise. Dumbledore was also the most powerful wizard alive today, the only wizard that even Voldemort was afraid of. He was Harry’s, and many of the other students who attended school, and even some who didn’t, hero, always coming to save the day when he was most needed. Besides, Harry had never had any objections with spending time with the headmaster. Dumbledore was gentler than Hagrid, for peats sake. Dumbledore was everyone’s hero! 

“But Snape,” Harry thought with a mental gulp, “Snape would kill him.” If given the chance Harry knew without a doubt that Snape would tear him limb from limb, laughing all the while. 

As Harry’s thoughts focused more and more on Snape’s hatred of him, an intense and unreasonable fear bubbled deep down from somewhere he didn’t even know existed within himself. He went cold and felt his breath leave him. “Snape…Snape hated him,” thought Harry vehemently. Snape would stop at nothing to torture him because that was just what Snape did. It was like Snape had been born to continuously inflict damage on Harry’s person. Harry let his mind wander through the many memories he did have of Snape, surprised at how easily they came to him. In one memory Snape was yelling at him for something he didn’t do, in another Snape was cursing Harrys very existence, personally offended by Harry’s birth. In the next, Snape was making life more difficult than it already was, then Snape was focusing more on Harry parents than on Harry as a person, as per usual. And Harry didn’t even know why! 

Harry felt like he would explode with memories and thoughts of Snape. Snape was the only constant Harry had ever known at Hogwarts. He was the only person who had never surprised Harry, the only person who never changed attitude in favor of Harry’s newest disposition. 

Snape was a greasy git, an all around jerk, and…the most awfully frightening person Harry had ever had the displeasure of meeting, even more so than Voldemort. At least Harry knew why Voldemort hate him. 

Harry’s scar prickled, as if in answer to his thoughts. Before he had time to react, enmity towards Snape, that he knew was not his own, streaked through his body and scorched across his eyes like molten sulfuric acid. He flinched and looked up at Dumbledore, who had been hovering lightly over him. Dumbledore’s eyes widened only a fraction before he straighten faster than Harry would have thought possible for such an elderly man. As Harry looked down the end of Dumbledore’s abnormally long wand, a fear that was also not his own surged over him so suddenly that any anger he may have felt before vanished in an instant, leaving him cold and confused.  

“Leave him Severus, don’t touch him!” Snape, who‘d reached out to steady Harry when Dumbledore had straightened, snatched his hand back as though it had been burned. 

“His thoughts of you betray him,” Harry, looking up into Dumbledore’s narrowing eyes, felt fear flash through him. “They leave him weak to Lord Voldemort’s wrath.” Dumbledore’s soft voice was almost lost behind a loud moan. It took Harry several seconds to realize that it had been he who had made such a sound. 

Harry lowered his upper body backward onto the bed slowly and let his feet dangling off the edge. He looked up at the ceiling through dazed and tunneled eyes, barley feeling the scorch of hot brimstone spread across his skin. The smell invaded his nostrils’ and he felt hot metallic bile rise in his throat. 

Perhaps the familiarity of the situation made it less surprising this time. Perhaps, instead, he was simply getting used to it; all two times it had happened. Harry didn’t bother trying to understand why he was seemly acceptant of his fate. 

A push against his own mind had Harry rolling over to the edge of the bed to vomit, thick red liquid mixed with yellow spilled from deep within his intestines. He dry heaved for a couple minutes more, body trying fruitlessly to physically expel what he knew was only in his mind. He finished and, left unable to move, lay on his side panting in agony, hands clasped tightly over his sweltering head. He’d drawn his legs in all the way towards his thighs in attempt to curl into the smallest ball he could possibly make himself be. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to cool the burning that was there but opened them quickly because of the pressure behind them. Blinking rapidly, he tried unsuccessfully to see past the blood he knew would now be seeping past his tear ducts and onto the nice white bed sheets that Madam Pomfrey had just replaced for him earlier in the day. Gentle caressing hands rubbed at his back and Dumbledore’s voice rang clear through the fizzing pain in his head. 

“Oh Harry, fight him. I know it hurts, I know you’re in pain, but you must push back. There is little I can do for you at the moment.” Dumbledore paused and Harry cringed, feeling the sheer amount of Voldemorts fear and anger. It was washing over him again and again, like waves in the sea, drowning him in red, gold, and green star lights of pain. 

Harry wanted, more than anything he’d ever wanted before in his life, to beg Dumbledore to speak again. Dumbledore was real; he was safety and sanity all in one. 

Harry grasped weakly at the string of reality that was Dumbledore’s voice. He turned to face Dumbledore, feeling sick at the sudden movement, removed his hands from his ears, reached up and grabbed at Dumbledore’s robs to pull him closer. Dumbledore rested his hands gently on the bloody ones that clutched at his robs and leaned down closer, his ear near Harrys mouth, his face drawn with worry. Harry choked back a sob of pain and forced himself to concentrate on the words he needed to form. He briefly focused on Snapes presence standing stiffly next to the headmaster. Snape’s arms were crossed and face was surprisingly pale. Even still he looked ready, more than Harry had ever seen him, to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Harry turned his attention back to the headmaster. 

“Dis-tract….m-me,” gurgled Harry thickly around the blood in his mouth. He felt a brief flash of annoyance at being so unable to perform such a simple task and uncurled his hands from Dumbledore robs. Flexing them briefly and feeling a moment’s relief at his accomplishment, he listened as Dumbledore began speaking again. He lay back on his bed and attempted to relax a little hoping that it was almost all over. 

And regretted it the moment he did. 

Dumbledore’s words of comfort were drowned out as a fresh new wave of pain washed over Harry. He could almost see the cruciatus curse coursing through Voldemort into himself and he barely had a moment to widen his eyes at the sheer audacity of the man. Voldemort was cursing himself to curse Harry. Harry opened his mouth, sucked in more air than he’d ever thought he could possibly hold, and screamed. 

He felt his eyes roll back into his head. He twitched and fell sideway off the bed and onto the floor, no longer able to feel Dumbledore’s gentle hands. The sound of something tearing rang through the room and Harry, still screaming with the same breath, felt something warm and wet dribble down his face in thick streams. His scream cut off as abruptly as it had started. Voldemort, it seemed, could also feel the pain. Harry took a rattled breath and collapsed onto the floor in relief. He felt Voldemort pause in hesitation, weighing the positives and the negatives. Then, coming to a decision, he drove back into Harry’s mind more forcefully than before. Harry’s mouth, which had a mind of its own by now, opened wider still and the scream that came out was in a high pitch than before. His body jerked this way and that, completely out of his control, and Harry felt a small amount of admiration form somewhere deep within himself at Voldemorts handy work. That man never did anything half way.

“Well crap,” thought Harry, amazement rolling through him. He was bleeding more now that he’d ever bled before in his life. He didn’t even bother trying to think up what the extent of his injuries entailed. Perhaps he wouldn’t survive this one…but if he did Harry wasn’t so sure he’d be able to survive the next one.

Dumbledore’s voice broke through Harry’s thoughts and a strange sensation wrapped around Harry’s body, his mind going blissfully quiet and still. As his brain’s systems began to shut down he briefly entertained himself with thoughts of how Snape was reacting right now. His last thought, oddly enough, was that he hoped he hadn’t scared Madam Pomfrey out of her sleep with his screaming….