Ron and Harry were in their common room in Billeghdonn Manor playing King's Table. The strategy game, an older one than chess and supposedly devised by Merlin to teach Arthur's knights the finer arts of war, was preferred by Harry. Ron was an undisputed chess champion and counted Snape as his toughest opponent. However, at King's Table, Harry had grasped the principles better than Ron had and he enjoyed playing a strategy game that he had a chance of winning more than half the time.

Harry's braced leg was stretched out upon an ottoman which put him in the awkward position of having to lean towards the board and then lean back in his chair when it was Ron's turn. After a month of being so hobbled it was becoming annoying and he couldn't wait to get the brace off. It did bother him that he'd have another week of strengthening therapy but that would be done with his father and it wouldn't be at the hospital.

This evening Snape and Hermione were spending the last night at the hospital with Draco. He was to be discharged tomorrow.

"I concede," Ron said with disgust as he had been staring at the pieces for the last ten minutes. Harry just smiled. He knew better than to boast about a win in front of Ron. "You want to play anything else, Harry?"

Harry stretched and yawned. "I think I'm done for the evening." He lowered his braced leg and with Ron's help, he rose to his feet.

"I'll go play on my lute for a bit. I sure wish Henry could come visit," Ron sighed heading towards his room. "I thought ghosts could go anywhere they want."

"Maybe Henry just doesn't want to leave Ashmere," suggested Harry.

Ron smirked, "Don't see why. Place has got to be boring without us there. Night, Harry."

"Night, Ron."

Harry slipped into his bedroom, but didn't light the wall sconces. He always liked looking out his enchanted window at the dark sea and the intermittent glow of the lighthouse signaling out across the waves. For several long minutes he just watched the quiet scenery before stepping away to get dressed in his pyjamas.

A soft hoot alerted him to Hedwig's presence and he wondered when she'd arrived. Going over to her perch, he found some owl food for her and picked up the small scroll that had fallen from her foot when she'd alighted on her perch.

Lighting a candle, he carried it over to his bed, struggled a bit with his leg to get comfortable, and then leaned back against the headboard. Hovering the candle close, he unrolled the letter and began to read.

Dearest Harry,

I really don't want you to worry about me, but please know that it does make me smile knowing you do. Father and I are well since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't seem to be annoying any wizards or witches at the moment.

I'm sending you a recent article from The Quibbler I believe you'd be interested in. Muggle London has experienced a spate of mysterious deaths that are being attributed to a deadly variation of the flu. You will notice that the symptoms in the article sound very much like a Dementor attack.

Have you been studying? Please give my regards to Professor Snape and your mother. You are fortunate to have such intelligent parents to teach you year round.

I miss you terribly, Harry, and I do know that something went wrong recently. The Gillywongs told me. Luckily they also told me that you survived. I think my heart stopped beating for a day when they mentioned you were hurt. Don't die, Harry. I think I would be awfully cross with you if you did.

Be good and do not worry, too much, about me.

All my love,
Luna

Letters were always a mixed blessing from Luna. They were scattered in thought and she had a terrible habit of bringing up things without explaining them. Summoning parchment, ink, a quill and a large book to write on, Harry bent over the parchment and began to pen a reply back to Luna.

Dear Luna,

I am all right, but I can't tell you anything in a letter. Are you still coming to Grimmauld Place next week? I think Dad will let me tell you then what happened.

What are Gillywongs?

I'm studying lots. Dad has two libraries here. Hermione's in heaven over all these books. Did I tell you that Mum actually caught Hermione trying to steal a couple of books? She swears she was only going to borrow them until she'd read them, but the trouble was, one of the books was spelled shut. Dad warned Hermione not to break the spell on any books. She WAS right clever in breaking the spell, but Dad was NOT happy with Hermione.

Did you know Hermione can run real fast? Dad caught her at the entrance to the pond, though. It's kind of a dead end so she was just delaying the inevitable. Kind of funny to see Dad running after Hermione, though. Brilliant girl that she is (she really ought to have been in Ravenclaw) talked herself out of a spanking but right into three weeks of detention once term starts. McGonagall will go spare!

There's a lot more I'd like to tell you Luna, but I can't. Not yet. I do miss you very much and I think of you every day and every night. You keep safe, sweet Luna.

Love,
Harry

He re-read the letter, then rolled it up and went over to Hedwig's perch. As he tied the letter to his owl's leg, he spoke gently to her.

"Why don't you stay with Luna tomorrow and keep her company, Hedwig. You can rest up, or play with her. I think you like those Flutterbye hunts she goes on." Hedwig hooted positively. Using his wand to open the enchanted window, he let his owl out into the night and watched as she flew out over the beach, past the lighthouse, until she was as small as the twinkling stars in the sky.

Putting out the candle and clearing the quill and ink and the large book from his bed, Harry climbed in clumsily under the silky sheets, rolled onto his side, and buried his face happily into his feather pillow.

As tired as he was, and as much as he wanted it, sleep eluded Harry. For two hours he tossed and turned in his bed. Finally he sat up, threw his covers off, glared at the brace he was unable to remove, and left his bed. Moving over to the window seat, he stared out at the dark sea and the shadow obscured lighthouse.

He was getting awfully sick of nightmares. Uncle Vernon, then Voldemort, and now Bellatrix the insane Death Eater. Not to mention there were nightmares about his friends, his family, and the ever-present fear that he would face the Dark Lord alone... and he'd fail.

He looked away from the window as he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Thinking it might be Hermione or Ron, he didn't answer. He just didn't feel like facing them right now. As he turned back to the view of the lighthouse, his door opened quietly.

"Harry?"

"Mum," he acknowledged quietly.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Lyrica asked as she walked further into the bedroom. She drew a chair over to where he was sitting and sat down.

"I wasn't even bothered by nightmares tonight." Harry's voice was rife with defeat. "I'm dead tired, but I just couldn't sleep no matter what."

"Would you like a Sleeping Potion?"

"No!" he snapped. "This isn't going to be fixed by potions, mum! Everytime I think things are all right, it turns sour. Potions won't stop Lucius or any of the other Death Eaters from coming after me and trying to kill everyone I love."

"You are right, Harry. Potions are not a solution, but they are a tool you can use to help you through difficult times. You can also talk to your family, to your friends, and let them know when you need help."

"I do..." he protested.

"You do not. You are still trying to protect all of us by bottling up your emotions. Do you really think it helps you to sit and brood in the dark as you worry about the future? Who will live? Who will die?"

"That's not fair, mum," he nearly whined. "You don't underst..."

"Don't you dare tell me I don't understand, Harry." Her voice was a mere whisper, but there was a stern warning laced within the tone. "I spent months falling in love with each of you despite trying not to because I was certain I'd lose you to a future I couldn't begin to imagine. I nearly did lose you."

Lyrica rose from the chair and seated herself beside her son. "You have a right to be afraid, to worry, to have sleepless nights, and nightmares. You do not have the right to wallow in despair by yourself when there are those so close to you that would help if you just asked. You're terrible at asking, Harry," she chided.

He bent his good leg at the knee and put his chin on it. "I know I am. I just spent so many years relying upon myself, though, that it's a very hard habit to break."

"And it is just that, my dear, a habit. You'll break it soon enough. However, let's not dwell on that. Tell me now what's keeping you awake tonight and see if we can't alleviate your worry enough so that you can get some sleep."

Harry nodded, but he was quiet for several long minutes. He finally spoke, but kept his eyes looking out the window.

"All this training that you and dad have been giving us didn't do any good. I couldn't do anything to help my brother and I bloody well couldn't do anything to help myself. I know dad thinks it was really smart of me to have Disillusioned my amulet, and I know we're both safe and alive because I used it when I did. I can't help the feeling that I failed somehow and I don't know what's wrong with me for thinking this way."

Lyrica considered the look of anguish on her son's face before speaking. After they were both silent for a little while, she replied, "I don't believe that you feel your failure lay in preventing you and your brother's torture, Harry. I believe that where you truly feel your failure lies is in the fact that you were face to face with the Dark Lord... and you were afraid."

Harry's head jerked roughly away from looking out the window. His stricken expression spoke volumes.

"You saw him in nightmares and you've heard many tales about him and his cruelties. You're a child. No matter how grown up you may feel at times, in front of the Dark Lord, you are so very young and to be faced with the truth of his reality frightened you to death. It still does. Especially knowing that all this training you've been doing isn't just practice for points and better grades, but to kill someone: the Dark Lord."

Harry swiped angrily at a few tears that had escaped. "He's nothing like what I saw when he possessed Professor Quirrell, mum. That whole thing has never felt like it was real. I sometimes wonder if it really happened. Voldemort is tall and his skin is whiter than white. He has red eyes that just bore right inside of you making you feel like something rotten."

Bellatrix's fingers dug sharply into the back of Harry's neck as she propelled him across the chamber and towards the figure of the Dark Lord standing at his throne. He was like pure, white stone draped in the finest, blackest silk that moved like a kind of dark wraith in a non-existant breeze.

Voldemort stepped down from the dais and as he came closer, Harry could smell the distinct odour of disease and decay from the Dark Lord. He was able to see that the white stone was blemished by smudges of ashen grey around the eyes, the slit of a nose, the sharp corners of the thin mouth. More smudges of the same grey were on the backs of his hands and the tops of his bare feet.

The Dark Lord spoke, but whatever he said was lost to Harry as those unnaturally long fingers trailed through his hair, hovered over his scar, and then caressed his cheek and neck. It was a clammy cold beyond snow or ice. It was the cold of the frozen earth from a graveyard. Harry knew without a doubt that he stood before the nightmare of Death.

He was glad that his tongue was frozen. He wanted to cry out for his Daddy; both James and Severus, but he didn't in front of this monster. His body did betray his fear, though, as his bladder loosened to the delight of the mad witch.

"Make him ssscream for me, dear Bella," his voice hissed as he smiled at Harry.

"Did you scream, Harry?" Lyrica had taken Harry's hand in hers. She'd tried to put her arm around him, but he had pulled away.

He shook his head vehemently. "Not for him. And I didn't."

The Dark Lord crouched down where Harry was curled up tightly upon the floor of the chamber.

"Look at his eyes, Luciusss," he marveled. "I see hisss fear of me, but I can also sssee his defiance." Voldemort rose to his feet and swept in a swirl of black silk back to his throne. "Luciusss."

"My lord?" Lucius dropped down to his knees before his master and yanked Draco down beside him.

"Perhapsss young Harry hasss no regard for himself, Luciusss, but he calls this one 'brother'. Take your son, Luciusss, and teach him what a disappointment he'sss been. We'll sssee if Harry will ssscream for him."

"I couldn't do anything, mum!" Harry's tears were running freely down his cheeks and his eyes stared blankly out at the sea. "I couldn't think of a thing to do. All I could do was hear Draco screaming and begging and then I was screaming, too. How could I have failed?"

Lyrica forced Harry into her embrace and grasped his chin with one hand and turned his gaze away from the window until he was looking into her eyes. "You were afraid, Harry."

"But I'm a Gryffindor," he rasped.

"Even the bravest man in the world isn't without fear, Harry. You did NOT fail. You acted as any man or child would have done in your place. I cannot imagine what it would be like to face that abomination and it frightens me that someday, soon, I shall. You had every right to be terrified, to scream, and to cry for your father to come rescue you." Letting go of his chin, she began to wipe away his tears. "The next time you face him, my dear child, you will remember this, and although you will feel afraid, again, you will stand stronger and you will not fail."

"How do you know, mum?"

"Because I will stand with you. As will your father, your brother, and your friends." She kissed his cheeks, smoothed back his hair, and hugged him. "And never forget this, Harry. The only reason you're here now, and alive, is because you kept your amulet and you used it for yourself and your brother."

An hour later, Harry was deep asleep, happily, and without nightmares.