Between the new wards and another sleeping draught, Harry got real rest over the next few nights. He was still plagued with "green spells," as Ron and the twins came to call them, outside of the dormitory, but inside, he slept free of green light or visions. He never wished for them to come back, even when the Department of Mysteries was attacked and three Unspeakables disappeared. As before, Voldemort's followers destroyed the places they raided to hide what had been taken.

On the other hand, with Voldemort cut off from Harry's mind at night, in the place of the old visions came garden-variety nightmares. Except that there was nothing garden-variety about Harry Potter's nightmares.

He woke more than half the dormitory more than once yelling in his sleep, then constantly had to convince Ron and Neville that it was ust an ordinary dream. Ron took to refusing to go to sleep himself until he was certain Harry would be able to, and once or twice, stayed up with Harry for hours. One night he raised such a racket screaming and flailing around that he woke to Ron and Neville's violent shaking and found half the population of Gryffindor House hovering in the doorway.

Hermione pushed to the head of the group and took a few steps further into the room. "Harry. You're in Gryffindor Tower, in the dormitory. Whatever you were dreaming, it's gone," she said in a firm voice that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt his muscles slowly beginning to relax and managed to fumble himself free of the bedclothes, blinking in the darkness. Neville soberly handed him his glasses. "Merlin's beard, Harry, you scratched me!"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, wishing he could jump out the window.

Ron paused from rubbing his jaw, where a new bruise was forming, and said, "All right now, mate?"

Harry nodded, hating the fact that he was still shaking. Bloody nightmares. He'd been dreaming of the Veil and… "Sorry," he muttered again.

Several of the students still crowded into the dormitory were begin to mutter amongst themselves, and Harry distinctly heard someone say, "Sirius." His blood turned to ice.

"What were you dreaming about?" Hermione said loudly. "You kept saying 'listen to me,it's serious.'"

Harry heard more than one person in the room suck in their breath, and forced himself to think. "Er, uh…I was…it was last year, I was trying to convince people Voldemort was back," several students flinched. "They wouldn't listen, even though…people were getting killed."

He dared a look around the darkened dormitory, lit only by a few lamps people had carried in. To his intense relief, most of the students seemed to have bought his story, and some even looked ashamed. "Harry," said Ginny quietly. "Should someone get Professor McGonagall?"

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "No, not this time. Just an ordinary nightmare."

Someone muttered, "You call that ordinary!" then grunted after apparently getting an elbow in the ribs.

To his relief, his friends didn't press, but Hermione nodded briskly. "Right, then. All right, everyone, back to bed! Nothing to worry about!"

Ron eyed her as she shooed the rest of the girls out and grinned at Harry, "She reminds me of my Mum sometimes."

Harry forced a smile. "I noticed that too. I'll just go to the—"

"—bathroom," finished Ron, and got up to follow him. Harry sighed to himself and closed the door. "Sirius again?"

Harry nodded. "The Department of Mysteries. I can never pull him back in time." That wasn't quite the whole truth: in the dream, Sirius had cried out to Harry for help, and Harry had failed. Again and again. The same with Cedric and Uncle Vernon. They had all called to Harry for help, and he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, smart enough to save them.

"You're sure these are just regular nightmares?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to get his heart to slow down. "Yeah, they're memories, not visions. I'm sure of it. And what with the extra wards…anyway, good thinking out there. Thanks for covering."

"Anytime, you know that. But you might want to talk to Remus about them anyway," Ron told him, sitting down on the edge of a bathtub. "Or maybe Dumbledore."

Harry let out a long, groaning sigh. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "Ron, I…I don't think this is anything that Dumbledore or Occlumency or…anything magical can deal with."

Ron came and sat down on the edge of one of the bathtubs. "What do you think it is then?"

Forcing himself to stop biting his lip, Harry leaned into over the sink and said tightly, "It's just…nightmares. About how…" he jammed his teeth back into his lip and ground out in a whisper, "it's my fault, Ron. My fault he died."

Ron sprang to his feet. "Don't you say that, mate! It was not your fault," he hissed.

"You don't know!" Harry whispered back furiously. "It was just like Hermione warned me before we left—trying to be a hero, trying to save people! Voldemort counted on that, and now Sirius…now he's…" he shook his head, turning away. "Voldemort always lies, Ron. That's how I know this isn't any dream from him. These dreams…they're strange, but what they say…it's not a lie. It's the truth! I might as well have thrown him through that archway myself!"

"Harry, no! Sirius wouldn't want you to—"

"Of course, he wouldn't," Harry shot back, hoping Ron wouldn't notice the tears prickling his eyes. "He just wanted-me-to-be-more-like-my-dad—oh damn!" His throat had closed up too much for words, so he began punching the sink as hard as he dared.

Ron watched in dismay, then sprang into action: he turned on the tap in the next sink to ice cold, and when it had half-filled with water, he bodily hauled Harry over to it and dunked his head in, managing to remove Harry's glasses at the last second. "That'll set you right, mate!"

"Blurgllellagll!" Harry sputtered in surprise as he was soaked from hair to ears in near-freezing water. "Mgfliggle! Blurgf! Pffbbtt! Aah! Ron, stop!" By the dint of flailing and yanking, he got his neck and shoulders out of Ron's grasp and scrambled away, only to slip and fall with a thud on the bathroom floor.

Ron stood over him with folded arms that made him look disturbingly like Hermione. "Better?" He tossed Harry a towel.

Harry scowled at him, then vigorously attempted to dry his hair. "Thanks," he said dryly. "Nothing like a little hypothermia to take my mind off things."

"Oh, stuff it," said Ron. "Had to distract you somehow. Feel better?" Well, if chattering teeth counted as better, Harry nodded. "Good. Then go to bed! If you fall asleep in Potions tomorrow, you're done for!"

"Yessir, oh-high-and-mighty Prefect!"

"The man makes the badge, mate, the man makes the badge!"

"Hey, Fred and George were right. You are taking this too seriously!" muttered Harry as he followed Ron back out the door. "I'll have to warn them to step up their joke testing on you!"

"Don't you dare!"

During Occlumency the week before the make-up Quidditch match, Snape was being oddly quiet and businesslike again. Which was a good thing, because the nightmares were leaving Harry constantly unsettled, and Snape kept dredging them up. "Potter, are you still holding lessons with Lupin?" he asked impatiently when Harry failed to block him.

"Yes," Harry replied.

Snape had known that, of course. "If you do not learn to detach yourself from distressing memories, you will be providing the Dark Lord with an open door into your mind."

"I'm trying!"

Snape fixed him with a hard glare. "Judging by the amount of attention the Dark Lord is devoting to you, you had better do more than try. Now," he raised his wand again, but something suddenly clicked in Harry's mind.

"Professor, wait, I…" he frowned, thinking hard.

"What?" Snape did pause, to Harry's surprise.

"I…there's something, I'd forgotten." In truth, there were some things he'd tried very hard to forget until the nightmares had brought them back into his mind.

"Another vision?" asked Snape in an exasperated tone.

Harry shook his head. "No, it happened when Voldemort—"

"Potter!"

"Sorry, when the Dark Lord had me, back in June. It…" Why was his heart pounding like that? Feeling frustrated with the way his heart began to pound and his palms began to sweat at the mere memory, Harry took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "It was early," he said slowly. Center. It can't hurt me now. It's just memory. Breathe. It helped a little, but his hands still shook. "It was before…before you came, and I'd…forgotten," he said weakly. He didn't like remembering that night at all. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears in spite of all Lupin had taught him.

Snape's face had lost the disgruntled look. "Go on," he said quietly.

Harry swallowed thickly. "It may not be that important."

"I'll be the judge of that. What happened?"

His mouth was incredibly dry. "When he first asked me about the prophecy, he looked at me…I thought he was trying to get—I mean, I knew he was, trying to get into my head, I mean, and I was too sc—couldn't close my mind, so…I just started thinking about dragon's blood. Then he just went right into torturing me, as if he hadn't been able to find out about the prophecy," Harry said.

Now Snape simply looked baffled. "Dragon's blood?"

"I finished your summer essay the day it happened," Harry explained absently. "What I don't understand is what he did—I was so…I can't imagine I really blocked him. But he didn't…I don't know."

Snape was so perturbed he sat down on the edge of his desk, staring at the jars on the wall shelves. "While your emotions provide him access," he said slowly, "he also finds them highly repulsive. With torture as a more convenient alternative, and you entirely in his power, he may have chosen to forego attacking your mind."

"You persuaded him that I didn't know it pretty easily," added Harry. "Maybe he believed that from the beginning and just tortured me for fun."

"That does run with his taste in amusements," muttered Snape, not really speaking to Harry. "You've been face-to-face with him at his full power four times. Has he never made a concerted attempt at attacking your mind?"

"Well, there was the Department of Mysteries. He said he knew I was telling the truth about the prophecy to Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry said. "Other than that, aside from possessing me and sending me sham visions, no. And whatever it is he's done to make me stop dreaming."

Snape abruptly straightened. "Lower your wand, Potter. Call to mind the memory of the possession."

Harry froze. "Why?"

"It may explain why he does not hesitate to attack you in that fashion but has not yet made a serious effort at Legilimency against you."

Harry took a step back. He did not want to relive that. Snape frowned at him, and he muttered, "Do you have to?"

"Potter…"

"Sir?"

Snape sighed in annoyance. "We require answers, Potter. Now, do as I said."

"Fine," Harry sighed and lowered his wand. "Which one, the last, in Dumbledore's office?"

"No, the first, in the Department of Mysteries."

"Not that one!" Harry blurted desperately. The first time had been the worst for a variety of reasons.

"Potter, I do not have time for niceties!" Snape snapped. "Legilimens!"

And Harry was in the atrium, trapped in the coils of a creature with red eyes, blinded and dying, terrified, his heart and soul still reeling from the loss of Sirius only minutes earlier…he felt the creature use him, telling Dumbledore to kill him…he wanted to die, the pain…Sirius…

"NO!" Harry fought out of instinct, and without even raising his wand, but Snape suddenly staggered back.

A dark-haired man carried a limp form out of a dark tunnel into the starlight, then realized the boy in his arms was not breathing…cursing, he laid the thin figure on the ground and began rattling off spells, shaking and desperate…

"POTTER!" Harry stumbled backward. Snape was glaring at him. "What have I told you about—"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Harry blurted, still trying to process what he'd seen in Snape's memory. He knew the spells Snape had been using; they'd been practicing them during this week's DA meeting. They were Resuscitating Spells. Shaken, he looked at Snape and whispered, "Did I…die?"

Snape made a very small movement, almost like a wince, before he snorted and replied, "Don't be melodramatic. Your pulse and respiration stopped for less than thirty seconds; I revived you and continued on our way."

"Oh. I…but why did my heart stop?"

"Effect of rushing your awakening from the Draught of Living Death," said Snape tightly. "I took it into account and was prepared for such an event."

Harry thought, with Death Eaters and Voldemort on his tail every second, before he could stop himself. "Thank you," he blurted without meaning to.

It was difficult to say which of them was more shocked. Snape stared at him for a full minute, then evidently decided to ignore those two words altogether. "It appears that in possessing you, the Dark Lord has attempted to crush your mind to the point where you lose mental consciousness. But your emotions have driven him out."

"That's why it hurts so much?" Harry asked wearily.

"Yes. If your mind fails completely, your body will be his to control, but thus far it has not," said Snape.

"I guess these emotions are good for something after all," Harry couldn't help muttering.

Snape shot him a withering look. "The Dark Lord's recent activities indicate the time is fast approaching when he will stomach his dislike for your emotions in order to gain control of you. That barrier will not hold forever."

"Point taken," Harry sighed. "Though…I tried closing my mind when I felt him coming in Dumbledore's office, but it didn't even begin to work. It felt…different somehow. Different from Legilimency."

"It may require a different means of closing your mind," Snape said. "We shall have to examine it further." He glanced at the clock. "That is enough for tonight. Clear your mind before going to sleep."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and headed out the door. He was halfway up the stairs when he realized that by the end of the lesson, his conversation with Snape might almost have been called civil!

The realization made him laugh aloud, but then his vision blurred and became tinged with green. "Oh no." He sat down quickly, trying to will it to pass, but it didn't.

Over an hour later, Mr. Filch found Harry passed out on the stairs.

The next morning, the Daily Prophet reported another breach in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had given Rita Skeeter free license to report any news about Voldemort's attacks (if she had a real, reliable source,) and it was paying off: Voldemort had been seen in person in a room called the Death Chamber.

"Maybe we should just field Ginny," Harry told Ron miserably during practice. "We don't need a repeat of last game."

"Last game we got attacked, that wasn't your fault," said Andrew Kirke.

"Jack doesn't agree with you," Harry sighed. Jack Sloper still refused to look at him in the hallways.

"Jack needs someone to blame for Joe, and you're convenient," said Ginny. "Come on, Harry, buck up! I want to play Chaser!"

"If I have a green spell mid-game, we could lose!" Harry insisted. "I can't stop them, and we've only got three days until the match. They might even get worse."

Hermione was sitting close by, listening with the twins. She'd taken to coming to watch practice lately; Harry suspected it was beause of Ron, and found he was glad she'd made that gesture. Hermione knew how important this was to Ron, being captain this year. She scooted closer and said, "Perhaps we should try to find a way to prevent them."

"Such as?" Ron demanded eagerly.

"Well, we know these 'green spells' are coming from Voldemort—oh, stop that, you lot! And they're keeping Harry from really dreaming." She pulled out her NEWT Defense text. "That's some kind of magical attack on his mind."

"And?" asked Fred.

"So…" she leafed through the book. "We may be able to find a way to cut it off. Only for a short time, but it might last through the game." She looked up firmly. "We'll need to try some detection spells to see what it is, or at least what type of attack."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" demanded Vinny Watson. "Get to it!"

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hermione grimaced. "Let me knock you out for a minute." He gaped, and she explained, "Since it always happens when you're asleep."

"Uh…all right, then," said Harry. Why is the whole world suddenly so keen to watch me sleep? "Right here?"

"If you're comfortable," she said tentatively. He nodded, and she ordered, "Sit back and relax, then. Durmius!"

The world faded into green, but when he woke up, it was still there. "Bloody…hell…" Ron breathed.

Harry saw a curling, thick line of what looked like bright green smoke surrounding him, leading away into the distance. His friends and teammates were scooting fearfully away from it. "What is that?" gasped Seamus.

"That's what Voldemort's sent after Harry," said Hermione, not looking up from her book. "Don't be afraid; it's always been there. The spell just made it visible."

"Looks like a snake," said George.

"That makes sense," muttered Harry. Then they all jumped as Hermione slammed her book shut and waved the Revealing Spell away.

"I think I can do it."

"Do what?" the team chorused.

Hermione eyed Harry speculatively. "Block the spell temporarily. Cut the connection, as it were."

"How? A moving ward?" asked Ginny, reaching for the textbook.

"In a manner of speaking," said Hermione. "I'm going to make you an amulet."

Hermione and Ginny made protecting Harry for the duration of the game their special project. Most of the ingredients they needed could be obtained from the students' supply cupboard (and Harry and Ron didn't ask where they got the ones that couldn't.)

For the remainder of the week leading up to the game, green spells continued plaguing Harry, until none of his friends would let him go anywhere alone. "The last thing we need is you fading out in a hallway and one of the Slytherins finding you," Hermione told him when she insisted on walking with him back to Gryffindor Tower after he forgot a textbook.

"Any chance you can make this amulet permanent?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Not against Voldemort. The reason I think this one might hold for a few hours is that he's probably used to thinking big. An amulet's really very simple protection; it might throw his spell off for a while before he recognizes it and compensates."

"And then what happens?"

"It stops working," said Hermione with a shrug. "And you'll probably faint again."

"Oh. Lovely."

They refused to let Harry try the protection out or even see the amulet before Saturday. "We don't want the old bugger catching on ahead of time," Ginny told him at breakfast the day of the match.

"I wonder if we ought to be wasting a protection like this on a game," Hermione mused, patting the pouch she was carrying.

"What!" Ron looked wounded. "What do you mean 'wasting!'"

"Well…I know Quidditch is important to you, but this will only work once, maybe twice. We might want to save it—"

Harry shook his head, interrupting her. "I'm not going to let that red-eyed mutant skrewt ruin my life! I haven't played a full game in over a year, Hermione. Let me have this!"

Hermione sighed, but smiled at them. "I thought you'd say that. Have it your way. I'll give it to you as soon as you get to the pitch. In the mean time, eat!"

Harry obediently shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, but grinned. Nothing would spoil this game.

To ensure that nothing did, there were Aurors scattered around the grounds and stadium. Tonks waved at Harry and the others as they passed, and tugged open the top of her red robes to reveal a red Gryffindor Quidditch T-shirt underneath. "Good luck, you lot!" she whispered loudly.

As soon as they reached the locker rooms, Hermione pulled out the pouch. "You may feel a bit odd for a minute, depending on how strong the spell's hold is on you."

"Will it last the whole game?" Ron asked.

"Probably, but I'd catch the Snitch quick if I were you," Hermione warned. She opened the pouch and pulled out a knitted lanyard with a small gold disk engraved with runes and figures.

"Is that real gold?" Ron exclaimed.

Ginny nodded. "We had a beast of a time finding a place to soften it up for this."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Harry guessed slyly. Ginny grinned and nodded.

"Here we are," Hermione slipped the lanyard around Harry's neck. At once, it felt as though a hand had been holding him very tightly and then let go; he swayed. "All right?" she asked, steadying him.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's worked!"

Ron hugged Hermione gleefully. "You are a saint, Hermione Granger, a saint! I love you!" Then they both realized what he'd said, and turned scarlet simultaneously. Ginny jerked her head at Harry, and they slipped out ahead.

"Here," she said, tucking the amulet under his Quidditch robes.

"Thanks for all this," Harry said.

"Not at all; just be sure we win today!"

Ron came running to join them, and they met the rest of the team at the entrance. "The Daily Prophet's here!" Dennis said excitedly.

Ginny frowned. "That's odd. What could they want?"

"Maybe to show that Hogwarts is back to normal," said Katie.

"The Prophet interested in normal?" scoffed Ron. "No, sir. They're hoping something'll happen with Harry."

"You mean an attack, or that I'll just faint and fall off my broom?" asked Harry dryly.

"I'm sure either works for them," said Andrew.

Ron clapped his hands. "Enough of that! Ignore them; the only show we're giving this lot is how solidly we can whip Hufflepuff, so mount up."

Giggling, they obeyed, and swept out onto the field to the roar of the crowd. Harry's heart soared along with the rest of the broomsticks as the wind rushed past his face, giving him a feeling of freedom he hadn't experienced in a long time. "Ever imagine playing the Quidditch World Cup?" Ron asked him as they flew to the center.

Harry laughed. "When we went to see it, sure. But for now," he pointed to the huge Weasley is Our King banner. "I'll settle for this!"

Ron pumped his fist at the Gryffindor stands as they flew into place. "The players take their positions for the first game of the season!" Dean Thomas announced. "Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!" Raucous cheers went up from the stands as a few Aurors circled on broomsticks.

The balls went off, and Harry went into his circling pattern as Jacobs began on the opposite side of the pitch. "Bell takes possession of the Quaffle, passes to Ginny Weasley—here comes Finch-Fletchley—ooh! Nice dodge by Weasley! They're heading for the scoring area—Watson blocks a Bludger heading for Creevy, Weasley enters the scoring area, shoots—goal for Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor stands burst into song:

Weasley is our queen,
Weasley is our queen,
She always gets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our queen!

Harry grinned and doubled up his search. A few minutes later, Ron made two saves in a row, and the Gryffindors sang the "king" version. Then Harry heard a new verse that made him whoop with delight:

The Weasleys are a perfect team,
She makes the goals,
He blocks the rings,
That's why Gryffindors all sing,
The Weasleys are our king and queen!

As Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Ron, red-faced but beaming at an equally-delighted Ginny, he spotted a flicker of gold near the Gryffindor hoops. Ginny spotted it too and promptly zipped across Jacobs' line of vision.

Thank you, Ginny! Harry crowed mentally and raced after the Snitch.

"Watch out!" Ron shouted, pointing, and Harry barely managed to duck in time to avoid a Bludger. In that moment, the Snitch was gone.

"A narrow miss there for Potter!" Dean yelled, but Harry heard a new chorus of voices, these much younger that seemed to be coming from the Slytherins.

"How do you spell LOSER, P-O-T-T-E-R!" a large crowd of Slytherins was chanting.

Harry wasn't the only one who let out an incredulous burst of laughter; he saw Ginny heading toward Zacharias again with the Quaffle, and she shot him an astonished look, grinning helplessly at the absurdly bad line. He agreed: it was so bad it was funny! As he circled, the Gryffindors were draped over their section of the stands with laughter as the Slytherins trailed off, not having achieved the effect they'd been hoping for.

"Whoops! Finch-Fletchley gets one by Weasley, goal for Hufflepuff!"

The Slytherins cheered lustily. Close to their stands, Harry saw the Snitch again and took off without hesitating; he was closer than Jacobs anyway.

Call on Potter,
Anytime we're in a pinch!
Call on Potter,
He's the one who gets the Snitch! the Gryffindors sang, drowning out the Slytherins.

Harry was so surprised he nearly lost sight of the Snitch—but not quite. Jacobs never even caught up. The Gryffindors sang even louder. It was a little distracting, but in a good way. Harry was so intent on the Snitch that he followed it right through one of Hufflepuff's goal posts.

"Oy! How many points does Gryffindor get if their Seeker goes through the rings?" Dean yelled over the cheers.

There was no time for anyone to answer: Harry caught Snitch.

The stands went as wild as if the Cup had just been won. Harry was nearly knocked off his broom by Andrew and Lavinia, then Ginny and Ron circled him all the way down. "A decisive victory for Gryffindor!" Dean cheered, but he could barely be heard over the singing of Weasley is our king, Weasley is our queen, and Call on Potter.

Once on the ground, Harry found himself hoisted onto his teammates' shoulders along with Ron and Ginny (made possible by their larger-than-normal team.) They were carried out of the Quidditch stadium with much fanfare to the rest of the Gryffindors, who sang them all the way back to the school.

He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our king!

"You let it in once!" Ginny was yelling at Ron. "After the Slytherins started up!"

"Because I couldn't stop laughing!" Ron yelled back.

"You get the impression they're running out of ideas?" Harry laughed. "How do you spell 'Loser?'"

"S-L-Y-T-H—something like that!" Ron replied. "Oy! Watch your head!"

Too late, Harry got a solid bonk on the noggin and lost his glasses when he failed to duck the threshold as they were carried inside. "Ow! Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, and he was hastily lowered to the ground. "Are you okay?"

Seeing stars, Harry shook his head. "Ow is the word. Does anyone see my glasses?"

"Here—oh dear. Reparo!" Ginny restored them as he stumbled to his feet. "There. Good as new."

"Thanks," Harry went to take them, but his head suddenly swam, and he dropped them again.

"Harry! Reparo! Really, you—Harry?"

Harry couldn't seem to focus his eyes. "Hermione…I…think amulet's…wearing off…"

"Oh dear. Sit down, quick." Red Quidditch uniforms and black robes swirled around him.

"All right there, mate?" Ron was on one side of him, Hermione on the other.

Ginny reached under the collar of his uniform and tugged out the amulet. "It's warm. Should we take it off?"

"No, leave it. I want to try something."

"Hermione…" Harry felt smothered; the world was closing in…he couldn't breathe.

"Hold on," said the black and brown blur in front of him. "I can't hold him off completely, but I may be able to ease it a bit." Hermione began murmuring an incantation, and Harry began breathing more easily, although the dizziness didn't abate.

"At least he waited until after we won to faint."

"Shut up, Seamus!" snapped Ron, so sharply that several people exclaimed. "Hold on, Harry."

"Hermione, this thing is burning hot!"

Harry saw green again. "It's…back…"

"I don't like this!" said Ron's voice beside him.

"It's more violent than we thought. Get a professor, someone, quick! I'm sorry, Harry, this was a mistake!"

Harry could barely hear her. The green light was closing in, he barely felt Ron and Ginny easing him to the ground and calling his name desperately as the green haze rose up and swallowed him.

The greenish haze swirled around him, cold and damp, making him shiver. The hard ground was damp beneath his back, but the amulet burned painfully hot on his chest.

Harry blinked weakly, trying to clear his vision. The haze flickered with green light. He couldn't seem to move at all—

Long white fingers suddenly closed around the gold amulet. Harry watched in confusion as they raised it from where it hung, then his eyes followed up the black clad arm in the dim light to a pair of glowing red eyes only feet away.

"No!" Panic shot through him like lightning, and he gasped.

Voldemort bared his teeth and yanked the amulet from around Harry's neck, breaking the lanyard—

"AAAUUUGH! NO! NO!" Harry flailed and thrashed with all his might.

Arms were holding him; he kicked in terror. How had he—where was he—"HARRY! You're here! You're here!"

It took a minute for him to realize he was hearing a girl's voice shouting, then he gasped with relief and stopped fighting. The world came back into focus; he was still lying on the floor of the main entryway of the school. And his head was currently in Ginny Weasley's lap. He hurriedly tried to sit up; fortunately, everyone else seemed too alarmed to notice. "Harry, what happened?" Ron asked.

"A…vision, I think…only not…" he stammered, still shaking. Seeing Voldemort that close had brought back very unpleasant memories.

"I'll say not! We thought you'd died!" Neville exclaimed.

Harry stared, and Ron explained, "I've never seen you have a vision like that, you sort of went…"

"Insubstantial," Ginny finished. Harry twisted around in shock to look at her, and she nodded. "Like a ghost. And the amulet's disappeared completely."

Harry's heart seemed to freeze in his chest. He slowly felt under his uniform collar with shaking hands: the amulet was gone, but there was a rough, raw weal on his neck as if it had been forcibly torn off. He began shaking harder. And the back of his Quidditch uniform was damp, even though the floor beneath him was dry.