The spider was grotesque with a gaping maw sporting pincers dripping venom. Harry Potter gave one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, a doubtful look.

"Er, you know Ron really doesn't like spiders," Harry stressed.

Hermione frowned and flicked the spider so that it spun lazily on the artificial line of web attached to it.

"Decorating for Halloween is always so fun at home. I'm just not sure what to do with all the magical options," she admitted. "This is my first time in charge of dorm decorations. I suppose I could ask Professor McGonagall."

Harry took out his wand and spelled the offending arachnid away. "Why don't you just ask Ron? His brothers probably know loads of spells and he's only ever decorated with magic. I'm sure you guys can come up with something great."

"It shouldn't be this hard," Hermione said, sounding annoyed that she needed the assistance. "But I suppose you're right. Where is Ron anyway?" she asked, glancing around the Gryffindor common room.

"He went to the pitch to practice with Wood," Harry said.  The boy glanced at his watch and blanched. "I should go get them before they get in trouble for missing curfew. I heard it was Snape's turn to patrol tonight."

"Yeah, you better go get them," Hermione said with a nod.

Running up to his dorm room, Harry pulled on a rain coat and, just to be safe, folded his indivisibility cloak under one arm. Ever since a mild Centaur civil war had broken out the year before, students were expected indoors by six p.m. and professors took turns patrolling the castle grounds.

Rain slapped angrily against Harry's face as he leaned into the strong wind whistling up the path to the Quidditch pitch. He regretted not thinking to have Hermione get Ron's attention. She was very good at messaging charms.

Harry took off his glasses, putting them in his coat pocket. They were all but useless in the downpour, but without them the tree line took on a more menacing appearance. His heartbeat thudded against his chest. For a moment he almost expected an army of Centaurs to burst out of the Forbidden Forest. When that didn't happen the boy shook his head in bemusement and grumbled to himself about stupid gossiping third years. No one had so much as seen a Centaur since the war began, but the Headmaster was taking no chances with his student's safety.

It grew suddenly darker and Harry looked up into the overcast sky, but it was all just a big blob of gray color. A dragon could have been up there and he'd be none the wiser. Harry wished that there was some potion or something magical that could instantly cure his near sightedness, but Madam Pomfrey had only laughed and patted him on the head the last time he brought it up.

Reaching the pitch, Harry was glad to see that Ron and Oliver Wood were attempting to wrangle a bludger back into the practice chest.

"What are you doing here?" the redhead asked, needing to shout to be heard over the wind.

"Hermione wanted to talk to you," Harry shouted back.

Ron's eyes lit up and he smirked. "Okay. We'll be right in."

Harry waved a hand toward the now closed chest. "I'll help Wood; you get back inside. Hermione is having a fit about the decorations."

At this, Ron laughed. "Ah, I figured she'd need my help sooner or later." He clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate. See you two inside."

Harry took one handle of the heavy chest and together he and Oliver started back to the castle. Ron had already vanished into the sheets of pouring rain. It took them longer than it should have to fight through the worsening downpour to the small shed where practice brooms and jerseys were stored. Wood took a moment to set a warming spell on them both before sprinting back out into the storm.

Harry followed moments later, running up the slippery stone stairs and through the nearest door. Winded from the effort, he stood there for a moment with his back against the thick door. He could feel the pounding of the wind and rain on the other side, but it was muffled and seemed distant. After a moment, Harry straightened and started up to the Gryffindor tower.

-

Severus Snape disliked being forced to skulk around the castle. On his own time, it was one of his greatest pleasures to find children out after curfew. The looks of horror were often enough to make him almost happy. During official patrols, however, he wasn't allowed to give out detentions unless the rule breaking included something more severe than being out after curfew. It had been days since he had last given out a well-deserved tongue lashing.

He turned a corner in the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower - his favorite house to terrorize - and was unsurprised to find Harry Potter trundling alone. The boy was soaked head to foot and that meant he had only recently been outside. Snape kept his footsteps silent as he trailed the student, hoping that he might catch the insufferable brat doing something else against the rules. That's when he saw the tale-tell shimmer of an invisibility cloak under the boy's arm. A predatory smile stretched across the teacher's face and he cleared his throat loudly. Harry froze, mid-step.

"Mr. Potter, mind telling me where you are going at this time of night with an invisibility cloak? Up to no good, as usual, I see," Severus said.

Harry turned around slowly, hugging the cloak to his chest as if somehow that might keep it safe from the professor's discerning gaze. "I was just going up to the tower, sir."

"And just where are you coming from?"

"I was helping Oliver Wood put away some Quidditch things," Harry said.

Severus sneered. "I don't believe you. Turn out your pockets."

The boy's mouth dropped open. "What!"

"Unless you've gone suddenly deaf, Potter, you heard me. Turn out your pockets," he enunciated each word carefully.

Furious, the boy's face turned red as he went about turning out the pockets of his coat, and pants. Only a handful of chocolate frog cards were revealed by the search.

"Is that all, sir," Harry asked stiffly once he'd finished.

"Detention tonight at nine, after dinner."

The Gryffindor looked ready to argue, but clamped his mouth shut instead. Severus was disappointed that the boy hadn't tried baiting him. It would have been the perfect excuse to let loose an acidic rant about the boy's similarities to his dead father. Even the thought of James Potter made the potions master see red and he glared fiercely at the child in front of him.

"Now, return to your dorm and I don't want to catch you out again or that detention will be for the next three months."

"Yes, sir," the boy spit out before turning and running up the nearest staircase that would lead to the Gryffindor tower.

-

Harry was still a little upset about his run in with Snape, but almost an hour had passed and he was sitting in the middle of a group of students telling ghost stories. Scary scenes were enhanced with magical effects and the orange firelight that flickered across the faces of the storytellers. Harry had never experienced an actual ghost story exchange before and he found it both exciting and a little scary.

Next it was Romilda Vane's turn. She lit her wand and set it below her chin so that her face was in shadows and looked almost like a skull. Harry shuddered at a sudden memory of Death Eaters and their pale masks. Forcing himself away from those memories, he focused on the sad tale unfolding.

"-and when all his loved ones had passed through the veil, Jimmy was so alone and sad. He missed his parents and his brother and his dog, Fifi-shh!" she hushed a few giggling first years with a stern look. Romilda continued, "So, one day, he decided to visit them beyond the veil."

Gasps were heard throughout the common room, even Harry felt his breath stolen for a moment. A sudden yearning filled him when he thought of what it might be like to see his parents and Serious again. Biting his lip against the knot forming in his throat, Harry listened.

"You see," Romilda said, "there's a special potion. Only one person knows how to brew it and he's Salazar Slytherin himself. Well, Jimmy summoned Salazar's ghost and Salazar told him how to make the Elixir of Spirit Division. The potion would let Jimmy's soul separate from his body without killing him. He could walk through the veil and talk to his family and little Fifi -shh, I said! - and then return to his body, unharmed. So, that night he brewed the potion and took a single sip and-"

Harry tuned out the story, no longer caring what ‘Jimmy' saw or did. Magic was so vast that there might be a real Elixir of Spirit Division. He wanted to ask Hermione, but she was in a far corner of the room practicing spells with Ron. The two of them were surrounded with and covered by fake blood, animated zombie gnomes, and realistic looking bats.

The clock on the fireplace mantle struck eight and Romilda finished her story to the astonished gasps of her audience. It was dinner time. Consumed with imaging what it would be like to be only a soul walking among the dead, Harry pictured his parents smiling faces as they had appeared in the Mirror of Erised. Harry even, briefly, considered asking the potion's master if such an Elixir existed, but when he reached the Great Hall and looked up at the head table, the glowering professor was stabbing at his food with a determination that made Harry wish he did not have detention later that night.

Detention.

Usually detentions were spent scrubbing cauldrons in the potions classroom and there were some restricted potion tomes behind Snape's desk. If Harry could sneak a look at them, he felt sure that one of them must have the information that he needed. A plan in place, Harry let himself enjoy the Halloween feast.

-

A floral scented fog rose from the warm ground in cloudy tufts. Thick moss was laid out like a welcoming carpet between a vine covered gateway and a swamp pond several hundred yards away. Sunlight seemed to trickle down from somewhere far above though no sky was visible through the ceiling of undulating fog. Stillness muffled the sounds of bugs and swamp creatures as they milled about in the sweeping shadows.

Two feet beyond the pond was a woman, wearing a faded but well-kept kimono, kneeling in the damp moss, the knees of her clothing soaked with mud. She sat straight, her eyes closed, humming something deep and melancholy. In her hands she held a simple clay cup that held a mixture of pond water and herbs which were the source of the strong floral scent. Lady Meng waited patiently for her next visitor to arrive. No one left through the gateway without first drinking her Five-Flavored Tea.

-

Harry knocked on the potion's classroom door at exactly nine.

"Come in."

Slipping inside, the boy came to stand in front of the professor's desk, head bowed. "I'm here to serve my detention, sir."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Well, you're certainly not here for tea and crumpets, now are you."

Harry wasn't sure how to reply to that so he kept silent.

"Go retrieve these ingredients from my store room."

A slip of paper with a carefully penned list of potion ingredients was thrust under his nose and Harry took it. He looked up in surprise.

"Am I going to help you brew?" the boy asked in confusion.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Just do what you're told, Potter, and stop asking stupid questions. And no filching, I have installed an alert spell for every item that leaves my storeroom."

It looked like the teacher wanted very much to let loose with a series of curses so Harry nodded and quickly retreated to the storeroom. Brewed and labelled potions were on one side while raw and bottled ingredients were on the other, stacked well above the Gryffindor's reaching height. Of course, most of the listed ingredients turned out to be located on the far shelf. Looking around for a stool or something else to stand on, Harry found himself in front of a shelf of potions. A golden glow caught his eye and he picked up a tiny vial of liquid that looked almost like bottled sunlight. Curious, he turned it in his hand until he could see the label. His legs nearly gave out from under him. Elixir of Spirit Division stared back at him in Snape's spindly handwriting.

Shocked, Harry quickly returned the vial to the shelf and went back to collecting ingredients using a small footstool he found. Images of his smiling parents, the glowing potion, and his spirit floating free from the world of pain and expectation, all circled in his mind. Overcome with a sudden need to escape, Harry blinked. He was standing in front of the potion without any memory of moving. The vial was in his hand, but when had he picked it up? A strange floral taste exploded in his mouth and coated his throat as he swallowed without remembering unstopping the potion.

He was asleep. It was all a dream. All of it, Voldemort, Snape, the Dursleys. A bad dream.

-

Harry opened his eyes. He was in a deep fog, nothing visible. It felt like he was in a vast emptiness that might take years to cross, but at the same time it felt like such a delicate distance as if one step might tip him off the edge of the world. Taking a steadying breath, the boy blinked and reached for his wand. His hand met nothing but cool air. Frowning, he looked down to find that both he and his clothing were translucent. His own hand passed through his body as if it were part of the fog.

"What the hell?" the boy whispered.

Then he felt a presence and glanced around, trying to pinpoint a source. Somewhere in the far distance, or only inches away, it was impossible to tell in this netherworld, a light broke through the cloud of gray. Harry walked toward it.

-

Drumming his fingers along the edge of his desk, Severus glanced up at the clock on the wall for the seventh time in as many minutes. It should not have taken the boy so long to gather together a dozen ingredients. An angry red blush was beginning to form on the professor's face and he gritted his teeth. Coming to a decision, Severus pushed away from the table and stood up, his robes swishing against the stone floor. No doubt the boy was up to some mischief and it must be stopped.

Striding to the store room, the professor mentally prepared a litany of admonishments that he would punctuate quite fittingly with his best sneer. The store room door was open and it took a moment for his obsidian eyes to adjust to the low lighting. When they did, he immediately spotted the crumpled form of Harry Potter on the floor below his potion's shelf.

Cursing to himself, Severus leaned down and carefully turned the boy over. A drop of gold caught his eye and his cursing turned to a growl of disgust.

"Only you, Potter, would find yourself enthralled by that damned potion!" the man said.

The boy's face was lax and a little too pale, but a quick check of his magical core showed that he was indeed alive. An induced death-like state. Sitting back on his heels, Severus groaned and placed a hand over his face. He was going to have to inform the Headmaster...and Pomfrey. She would, of course, give him a stern talking to about leaving such dangerous potions where ignorant little brats could reach. Those probably wouldn't be her exact words, but Severus was keen to get through the next twenty-four hours with his pride still intact.

"Damn you, Potter," he spat at the unconscious boy.

-

Something smelled like flowers. Harry breathed deeply through his nose. It was then he noticed something soft and squishy underfoot. Bending over, he waved the carpet of fog away with his hand and was surprised to see mossy ground. His whole life felt like a fuzzy dream. Maybe he had always been a ghost, walking amongst the floral scented mist. The thought made him uncomfortable for reasons he could not pinpoint.

Harry continued forward, details of the world around him slowly shifting into view as the veil of fog was pulled back step by step. A melodic humming came from somewhere far away, the sound whispering in his ear. He let himself float toward the sound, overcome with a sense of peace.

-

Pomfrey was bent over the infirmary bed, shinning the tip of her lit wand into one of Harry's eye she held open. There was no response. Extinguishing the Lumos with a flick, the medi-witch turned to face Severus with her arms folded over her chest.

"Would you care to explain how a student under your supervision was able to separate his soul from his body? With an Elixir of Spirit Division, no less." She sounded as if she would like very much to hit the potion's master with a Jelly Legs jinx.

The man cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It is a very rare potion and for it to enthrall one's senses it must be actively desired. Students of any year shouldn't even know of its existence, much less desire it," he said, followed by a slight huff of indignation. "I would have never left the potion in such a vulnerable place if I thought for an instant this might be the result."

Pomfrey continued to glare at him, her mouth turned down in a thin line of displeasure. "Hm," was her only response.

Severus ran a hand through his black hair, tugging a bit in frustration. "It's not as if he can't be returned once the Headmaster arrives. A quick spell and your precious golden boy will be back in one piece."

"We can hope," Madam Pomfrey agreed with a slight nod of her head.

At that moment the infirmary doors opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped inside, carrying a large brown sack in his arms. Severus went to help, taking the heavy burden from the Headmaster.

"Thank you, my boy. I'm not as young as I used to be," the man said, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "I brought them all just in case."

"All of them?" Severus asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "It is Potter so I suppose every precaution must be taken. He is prone to...trouble."

"Indeed." The Headmaster favored the teacher with a soft smile. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen, Severus, but perhaps you might think of locking up your more potent potions, hm?"

Duly chastised, Snape nodded. "Yes, that would seem wise."

Setting the sack carefully at the end of Harry's bed, Severus backed away. Albus untied the bag and pulled out a series of strange artifacts. A battered old boot and large stuffed bear that looked brand new and even had a large Merry Christmas tag stuck to a red bow around its neck followed by a cracked anvil. They were laid out next to Harry's feet. Each had been fashioned by old magic and could be used to draw wandering spirits. The Headmaster took out his wand and began a long, complicated spell in Latin. Red bands of light shot out of the wand and circled around Harry's still form.

It was many long minutes later when Albus dropped his arm, looking all of his long years. "It didn't work. His soul could not sense the pull which means it has crossed the veil."

Severus frowned. "So soon? I doubt even Potter has that level of power."

The red bands of magic slowly dissipated, settling the room in shadows. Pomfrey shivered and whispered something that made the torches grow brighter.

"Is there not some curative that might be used?" the Headmaster asked, his voice strained.

Severus shook his head. "I only had the potion because Firenze was kind enough to brew it for me. Apparently, being able to speak to the dead is of some use to divination experts. If anyone would know of a possible counter potion, it would be him. However, with the Centaur war..." Snape let his thought trail off into silence. They all knew that the Divination teacher would be impossible to reach by any normal means. "No, Headmaster. I am afraid we are on our own."

Pomfrey checked Harry's vitals and frowned. "The link between his soul and body is growing weaker. We may not have much time left," she said. The medi-witches gaze flitted between the two men. "We must do something."

Severus hated himself for it, but he spoke through gritted teeth. "I will fetch the boy."

Albus turned to the black haired man in shock. "I would never ask you to do something so dangerous."

"Really? I have suffered much worse than a simple trip outside my body while doing spy work for the Order. I will go find the little brat's bloody soul and be back before breakfast," Severus said, sounding much more confident than he felt.

"Thank you, my boy," Albus sounded genuinely touched by Snape's willingness.

Pomfrey huffed and fussed with Harry's blanket, her eyes damp. "You both come back, now," she said.

Severus took a small purple vial out of his robe pocket and walked over to the beside by Harry. Leaning over, the potions master plucked several dark hairs from the boy's head and slipped them into the potion.

"I was prepared for the unlikely possibility that Potter had already passed through the veil. This potion will allow my spirit to find his fairly quickly. We should be back momentarily." Severus drank the potion in one gulp and then laid down on a nearby bed. Within seconds he was asleep.

Pomfrey fretted between Harry and the unconscious professor, her forehead wrinkled, fingers twisting in the pockets of her apron. Albus rested a hand on her shoulder and gave the woman a sympathetic smile.

"All we can do now is wait, Poppy," he said softly.

She nodded and wiped at her eyes, blushing at her show of emotion. "I know that, Headmaster, but they're both special. All the students are, of course, but these two have been through so much," her voice choked and she fell silent.

They watched, waiting for those two precious souls to return.

-

Harry ducked through a gateway that was covered in flowering vines. He reached out to touch one of them, but his translucent hand simply passed through purple petals. A pathway of moss was visible leading forward through the lessening fog. Instead of being swathed in the cloudy gray, it seemed to cling to the ground, shifting and clinging to his feet as he walked through it.

The humming stopped and the air seemed to fill with tension. From somewhere in front of him, Harry heard the rustling of fabric and then a Chinese woman in a traditional kimono stepped into view. She held a cup in one hand.

"Welcome, my child," she said.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the gateway, but it had been replaced with a different entry way that looked much brighter and was swathed in huge white buds. The woman walked toward him, passed by, and retrieved one of the buds with long delicate fingers. She dropped it in the cup, swishing it carefully. The smell floral scent mixed with a bitter swampy smell. Harry wrinkled his nose.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She looked up from the tea and smiled. "You may call me Lady Meng. You have come a long way, I can tell. Please, have some refreshing tea before you continue your journey. It will help."

Harry took the offered cup, the hard clay cool to the touch. "Thanks, I guess." Then he replayed her words and glanced up sharply. "What will it help me with?"

"Shedding the pain of the past," she said. "Drink."

Harry watched his reflection in the tea frown back at him. Forgetting sounded pretty good. Even though his life was like a distant dream, there were aspects of it that still hurt. Losing his parents, being tortured by Voldemort, even the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys still tugged at his heart. He sniffed the liquid. Although there was an undercurrent of bitter, it mostly smelled of flowers and, strangely enough, cotton candy.

Raising the cup to his lips, Harry was just about to take a sip when a hand reached out of the fog and pushed it. Tea splashed through Harry's clothes and spattered on the mossy ground.

"What the bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, turning.

The boy found himself looking up into the furious face of Severus Snape. The man looked ready to pop a blood vessel, even though his translucent form made it impossible to see if his face was red. The veins were standing out on his forehead.

"Uh, professor?" Harry said.

Severus seethed. "You dense muggle-raised idiot! That-" He pointed to the woman who watched impassively. "-is the Goddess of Reincarnation."

The boy's mouth dropped open and he shot the woman an accusing glare. She merely smiled softly in return, her face a mask of calm.

"Had you drank that foul broth, all memories of your life would have been erased and your soul would have been sent to a new body. How, Potter? How do you get into these situations?" the professor seemed honestly perplexed and he looked down his nose at the boy with the same calculating look he might when studying potion ingredients for potency. "Come with me, Potter. You're needed elsewhere."

Harry allowed himself to be dragged back into the fog as he watched Lady Meng disappear. It was only then that he realized that it was rather strange that he had been able to hold the cup when everything else passed right through him. Feeling embarrassed by his ignorance of magical lore, and the fact that he had missed such an obvious thing, Harry felt an invisible blush travel up his neck.

"How did you get here, professor?" for the first time Harry really wanted to know just where he was. Now that he was walking next to Snape things seemed to take on a surreal tinge. His past life was no longer distant and unreal, it was stalking right next to him with a hand clamped firmly on his shoulder.

"That story is for another time. We need to get you back into your body," the man said.

Harry nodded. That suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. It wasn't long before they were completely surrounded by the thick fog. If it wasn't for Snape's tight grip, Harry was sure that they would have ended up wandering in different directions. Harry was just starting to get tired of the endless walking when the professor came to an abrupt halt.

"This should be good enough. We've returned from the veil."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "We were in the veil?!"

"Your ignorance is astounding in its entirety," Snape replied snidely. "Now, focus on your body and allow it to become a beacon. You will return automatically."

Harry did as he was told and at first it felt like nothing was happening. Then there was a rush of sensations and he felt heavy. He breathed deeply and smelled the infirmary and the faint scent of herbs. Groaning, Harry opened one eye and then the other.

A gasp came from his side and he looked over to find Madam Pomfrey clutching her chest, a relieved expression on her face.

"Thank the goddess," Poppy said, patting Harry's shoulder as if to assure herself that he was really there.

"Uh, not so much. You should thank Mr. Snape," Harry said.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Severus," the medi-witch said to someone on Harry's other side. He turned his head and saw Snape watching him silently from one bed over. Albus was checking the man over with several diagnostic spells.

"Everything looks in order," the Headmaster said after a long moment.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had just happened was over. His brow furrowed.

"How did I get here?"

"Professor Snape-" Albus stressed. " -brought you here after you drank some Elixir of Spirit Division."

"Oh." Harry's memory came rushing back and he ducked his head. "Right." Snape probably hated him even more now. "I didn't mean to take it...it just happened." The boy shrugged.

"That particular potion has a tendency to enthrall one beyond reason," Snape said grudgingly.

Albus looked between the two and smiled broadly. "Well, I daresay Poppy will want you both to stay overnight for observation, but I must take my leave. These object are best not left out of the vaults for long."

The Headmaster inclined his head toward the three magical artifacts and began to collect them, placing them back in the bag near Harry's feet. Once it was safely tied, the old man lifted it with a sharp exhale of exertion and walked out of the infirmary.

Pomfrey ran a few more diagnostics and set a monitoring charm on them both before she retired to her office. This left Harry and Snape to stew in their own thoughts. It didn't take long before the silence became unbearable for the Gryffindor.

"I guess I should thank you, professor," he said.

Severus made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat.

"If you hadn't of been there, and I drank that tea, what would've happened to me?" Harry asked, not certain he wanted to know the answer.

"Your body would have grown weaker by the day until it ceased to function. Your soul would have been unstable due to the unnatural nature of your reincarnation and, no doubt, you would have suffered mentally," Severus said.

"I'd have gone mental? A mental baby?"

"It is possible that you would have eventually learned to cope," Snape admitted quietly.

Harry heard shuffling, but didn't look over at his professor. There were too many things to think about. The sharp longing to see his parents was gone, replaced by a deep thankfulness that he was still in one piece and still Harry Potter.

"I'm glad you did that, professor." It was the closest Harry could manage to an outright ‘thank you'.

"Hmm. You should get some sleep. You still have to serve your detention tomorrow," the teacher said.

Harry frowned, but knew better to complain. Pulling up the blankets until they were tucked under his chin, he closed his eyes and fell almost instantly asleep.