"Pt. Pr. Ptr."

It was like an insistent buzzing in Harry's ear. He wished it would go away.

"Pttr. Pottr. Potter!"

As Harry slowly rose out of the blackness, the first thing he became aware of was a furious, hissing whisper in his ear. "Potter! Damn it, boy, wake UP! Potter!" In spite of Harry's desire to sink back into the dark, the litany did not let up, and the next thing he perceived was an absolutely horrid taste in his mouth. And more kept being added so that he swallowed instinctively, too groggy to wonder what it was.

"Come on, damn it! Wake up, Potter! Do you hear me? Wake up!"

There was someone vigorously rubbing his arms and legs, and his unused limbs were tingling as blood was forced through them. Harry wanted to tell whoever it was to leave him alone, but he couldn't even manage to make his lips move, so all that came out was a low moan.

"Merlin's beard, it's about time. Wake up, boy!"

Now they were slapping his face—hard—and his whole body was being shaken. Whoever it was, they were breathing heavily, and there was a tremor in their voice, of urgency or fear. The surface beneath his head and back was incredibly hard and cold. Awareness continued its slow march back into Harry's mind, and he managed to make his mouth work. "Wha—"

"Damn it, Potter! Open your eyes! There's not much time! For the love of—Potter, wake up!"

Whoever it was, they were not going to leave him alone. Harry groaned in protest and, at length, managed to get his leaden eyelids open. There was light coming from a lantern sitting nearby—far too much light, in Harry's opinion—and something flickered green. There was a dark-robed, dark-haired figure kneeling over him, still chafing his arms and legs and muttering furious oaths at him. Harry blinked weakly, completely disoriented, and peered toward the source of the green light.

It was the sight of the green flame torch that made him remember.

With a grunt of panic, Harry lurched away from Severus Snape, but his unused body protested the motion violently, sending him flopping to the floor of the chamber with a groan. Snape grabbed him. "Get away—" he gasped hoarsely.

"Quiet!" Snape hissed, holding Harry still with humiliating ease. "Do you want to get out of here or not?"

In surprise, Harry stopped struggling. "You're here to—"

"No time!" Snape hauled him out of the tomb and set him on his feet, catching him when he started to fall and slinging one of Harry's arms over his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around Harry's waist to support him. "Move!"

The next thing Harry knew, they were moving in a lurching walk down the tunnel. He stumbled over what felt like a large sack as they staggered into the main passage, but Snape refused to slow down. It was slow going, no doubt with great risk of discovery, but what terror or hope Harry would have felt at this escape attempt was overridden by the fact that staying conscious required most of his concentration, let alone putting one foot in front of the other. Snape was practically dragging him.

"How did—"

"Shut up, Potter!"

Voldemort's lair was strangely quiet. Harry staggered dizzily along, leaning heavily on Snape, as what alertness he had gained in the chamber began to leave him. "Can't…see…"

"You don't need to see, Potter, you need to move. If we're caught, it's over!"

So Harry struggled on, stifling cries of misery from the pain in his incredibly weak body. Every muscle was screaming in protest, his head throbbed, his eyes stung, and now his scar was adding to the litany. "Think…he…knows…"

"Of course he knows by now. The torch—" Snape suddenly growled a curse and threw Harry into a wall, drawing his wand and tossing Harry another. Fumbling for it, he managed to pick it up as the sound of pounding feet warned him they were discovered.

"Snape! What the devil—"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The recipient of Snape's curse had no time to do more than yelp before Harry heard the thud of something heavy hitting the stone floor. Immediately, Snape grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet, dragging him on. With a rush of nausea, Harry realized that the heavy sack he'd stumbled over at the entrance to the tomb had been a body. Snape had killed those Death Eaters.

One of his legs buckled, knocking them both off balance. Then as Snape scrambled to get Harry back to his feet, they heard many shouts ahead of them. Above all the noise was a hissing shriek of rage: "Severussss!"

"Oh shit," Snape growled, and hauled Harry sideways into another passage. "Potter, if you can't run, we're both dead."

"Trying," Harry gasped as Snape yanked him faster and faster through the tunnels.

Snape shouted a spell over his shoulder, there was a deafening crash behind them, and Harry heard Voldemort shrieking, "Find them before I make every one of you suffer!"

Snape kept going, practically lifting Harry off his feet. "We've got minutes until they're back in this passage, Potter. Move!"

Harry could barely hear anymore for the roaring in his ears, nor could he always stifle his groans. He felt so dizzy, exhausted, and sick; he didn't think he could stay upright much longer. Something exploded into the tunnel just ahead of them.

The supporting arms let Harry fall to the ground, and he lay there, unable to move. Curses were shouted, and someone yelled, "Severus, of all people—do you have any idea what the Dark Lord has in store for you?"

From somewhere in the distance, Snape's voice responded, "The same thing he's always had in store for me, Lucius. This day has been long in coming. Reducto!"

CRASH! "After all the honors he showered on you these past weeks! What a fool you are! Stupefy!"

With all the energy he could muster, Harry forced his head up. Snape and Lucius Malfoy were dueling amid clouds of dust from whatever Snape had blasted. They were moving too fast for his sluggish mind to track, but suddenly Snape's wand flew from his hand. Malfoy advanced. "I won't be killing you yet, Severus. Handing both you and Potter over to the Dark Lord alive to be made an example of will return me to the position that you were given and scorned."

Snape was backed against the tunnel wall, and there were sounds of grinding, crashing rocks in the tunnel he had just brought Harry through. "Unlike yourself, Lucius, I don't find Chief Lapdog a very fulfilling position."

Gritting his teeth, Harry aimed the wand Snape had given him at Malfoy's back. "Expelliarmus!"

With a grunt of surprise, Malfoy crashed into Snape, and a brawl ensued over the fallen wand. In the end, it was Snape who seized it, rolled onto his back as Malfoy loomed over him with a large rock, and bellowed, "Imperio!" Harry blinked in astonishment. "Drop that stone," Snape ordered. Malfoy did. Snape picked up his own wand and said, "Take your wand, return to the others, and warn them we've doubled back in their direction. Insist that they set up an ambush at the main entry."

Without a sound, Malfoy took his wand back from Snape and hurried away. Harry tried to pull himself up, but his limbs simply collapsed under him. His whole body was shaking. "How…far…"

"Perhaps a hundred meters. On your feet, Potter, come on!" Snape pulled Harry's arm over his shoulders, got his own arm around Harry's waist and tried to haul him up, but this time Harry's legs simply refused to obey. "Potter, up!"

"Trying…" Harry gasped, gritting his teeth. He felt so weak. His heart was skipping like mad, and every limb was shaking. He felt sick to his stomach. The tunnel walls were closing in—he fell again, winding up on his back on the floor with Snape pulling fruitlessly at his arms. He stifled a sob. "Can't—sorry—can't—"

"Fine. Stop struggling!" An arm suddenly swept under Harry's knees, another under his shoulders, and he felt himself lifted off the ground. Then he was being bounced painfully as Snape broke into a full run. "Stay awake, Potter."

"Trying," Harry sighed, his head lolling against Snape's shoulder. He was so very tired…

Snape must have felt him going limp. "Potter! Stay awake!" The arms carrying him began jostling him back and forth, trying to keep him conscious.

But it simply wasn't working. That heavy feeling was coming over Harry again, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. The sound of Snape's voice, calling his name, grew fainter and fainter, until the pain melted out of his body, and he drifted away into the dark.

"Headmaster, I think he's coming round."

"Thank goodness. Severus, you should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Professor, is he waking?"

"Please say he's all right—"

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, hush. Harry needs no more excitement."

"Harry? Open your eyes for us, dear. I know you're tired."

There was a deliciously soft bed beneath his back, and his head was cushioned by a pillow. The smell of this place was very familiar, but Harry couldn't make his mind work enough to identify it yet. The voices around him were soft, coaxing him to open his eyes, and someone's hand was smoothing back his hair. "He looks horrible."

"That was one hell of a gamble, Severus."

"Dealing with the Dark Lord always is, Lupin. Count us all lucky he made it out alive."

"But the asphodel-wormwood draught! Look at him!"

"Do use your head, Lupin, Living Death has no effect on the body! The boy looked precisely as he looks now when he first showed up in the Dark Lord's den."

"Severus, Remus, please!"

The memories of what had happened came back to Harry. He struggled to open his eyes. Could it be…was it possible…was he at Hogwarts? Was he home? What had happened? He tried to ask the question aloud, but it didn't get any further than a low moan in the back of his throat.

"Shh, it's all right, Harry. You're at Hogwarts."

Oh! What a way to wake up! Harry dragged his leaden eyelids open, feeling relief in such a rush that it was painful. Maybe it had all been a dream! A confused blur before his eyes slowly focused into the faces of Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, and at the foot of the bed, Ron and Hermione. Harry squinted in the light of the hospital wing, and Professor Dumbledore said softly, "Perhaps we could dim the lights, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey disappeared from Harry's view, but behind where she had been standing, he saw Professor Snape. Snape seemed startled to see Harry looking back at him, and quickly walked from the room, but not before Harry noticed that his black robes were filthy and that there was dried blood on his face. He turned his face toward Dumbledore, who had also seen Snape leave. "Wha…happen…"

"What's the last thing you remember, Harry?"

Harry swallowed thickly. His mouth was dry. "Tunnel," he murmured. "Voldemort." Several people in the room flinched at hearing the name. "Snape…"

Dumbledore came closer and patted Harry's hand. "All of us owe Professor Snape a great deal of gratitude, Harry. It was he who ventured into Lord Voldemort's stronghold to save you."

Now that was a bizarre thought. Harry wanted to ask exactly what had happened; he couldn't seem to separate dream from memory, but his eyes were falling closed, and he couldn't pull them open again. "I guess…tell him…thanks…"

When he awoke next, voices drew near to the bedside, and he opened his eyes to find Madam Pomfrey bending over him. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. "Are you thirsty?" she asked. Harry closed his eyes and nodded. "Molly, would you mind?"

Harry heard a sniffle, then Mrs. Weasley was helping him to sit up as Madam Pomfrey gave him a glass of water. It felt wonderful on his throat, even if he was mortified to discover he couldn't get his hand around the glass, which meant Madam Pomfrey had to hold it for him. When he was done, Mrs. Weasley sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Harry gently into her arms. "Oh Harry," she choked out, obviously struggling not to burst into tears.

He leaned against her and let his eyes drift closed. "Sorry," he murmured. "Dunno why…so tired…think I slept a long time…" The sound of several stifled sobs made him force his eyes open again. Trying to keep them focused, he looked hard at his friends.

Every single person surrounding the bed looked pale and tired, but now that Harry thought about it…Ron and Hermione just looked ragged! Their faces were pale, eyes red, and they looked a good deal thinner than he remembered. They were practically hugging each other in relief. Remus Lupin looked more haggard than Harry had ever seen him. Even Professor Dumbledore looked weary. Mrs. Weasley's face was very drawn, as if some of her had been worn away. Harry tried and failed to sit up on his own, so he settled for leaning against Mrs. Weasley. "How long…how long was I gone? I remember the Draught…how long did Voldemort make me sleep?"

He was too tired to be annoyed by the apprehensive looks they all exchanged. Remus came to sit down on the other side of the bed and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Quite awhile, Harry. You'll need rest to get your strength back."

"How long?" he asked again. Mrs. Weasley tightened her grip on him.

The bed shifted, and Harry managed to focus his eyes on Hermione. Ron was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Voldemort took you July first," said Hermione softly, smoothing the bedcovers. "The Monday after term's end. It's September now. Saturday, September the third. The start of term feast was two days ago. That's when Snape got you out." She smiled weakly, though her already-red eyes were welling up with tears, and her lips were trembling. "So…I guess that's about two months. Felt a lot longer, though." Her voice was gradually rising in pitch, and behind her, Ron's eyes were very red.

Harry was dismayed, not even so much by the time that had passed as by his friends' reactions. Mrs. Weasley was still holding him to her with one hand, but she'd raised the other to cover her mouth to stifle her sobs. Remus could no longer look at him, but his shoulders were shaking.

"Sorry!" Hermione squeaked, her breath hitching badly. "Was just…hard." Then she gave up and dissolved into tears, and Ron sat down on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms, giving Harry a weak smile.

Professor Dumbledore came around the bed and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "We'd best not tire Harry out too much. He will need some time to recover." Seeing the rebellion on their faces, he added, "And many of Harry's friends back in the dormitories will be waiting for news."

With simultaneous sighs, Ron and Hermione got up. Harry watched them with his head still on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. He heard Professor Dumbledore say, "Harry needs to sleep now. He's been through a terrible time." Dimly, he was aware of Mrs. Weasley and Remus easing him back onto the pillow. The worst part was, Harry wanted so desperately to ease their minds, tell them he was all right, beg them all not to cry…but his head felt heavy and he couldn't find the strength to lift it anymore. It seemed so strange…the thought of having missed so much time. He remembered dreams, though…he'd thought Snape was a dream. Was the part about Snape being a Death Eater real? He couldn't be sure. And there were other things, things he wasn't sure were memories from real life or dreams.

Squirming against the pillow, he forced his eyes open a little longer. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?" Lupin came quickly back, taking his hand. "What is it?"

Harry swallowed. "Sirius." Lupin's face fell, telling Harry the answer, but he asked the question anyway. "Wasn't…dream…was it?"

Remus shook his head, squeezing Harry's hand. "I wish it was, Harry. I wish it was."

It had been such a wonderful hope, a way to end the entire nightmare once and for all, to see that black dog come bounding in, barking and whining and poking Harry's hand with his cold nose…Harry closed his eyes. It was a painful thought to go to sleep with, but he just couldn't stay awake a moment longer.

Peace and quiet never seemed to stay with Harry for long. When he woke up some time later, the hospital wing was quiet and dark. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, but he felt a little better, more refreshed, like he'd been asleep instead of comatose. He was just trying to muster the energy to stretch a little when he heard footsteps coming towards his bed.

Furtive, stealthy footsteps.

Harry closed his eyes quickly as the feet drew nearer, and crept his hand toward the table next to the bed, praying his wand was there. What if Voldemort still had it? But then his fingers closed around its smooth wood, and he nearly gasped with relief. He slipped it under the covers and pretended to be asleep as the feet reached him.

"Bloody, pathetic Potter. Doesn't look so strong now, does he?"

Malfoy Why was he not surprised? "What now, Draco?" Harry recognized Crabbe's voice.

"Dunno…maybe make his pillow start eating his head?" Clink! "Shh! Goyle! Pomfrey'll hear!"

"That his owl?"

"Yeah." Snicker! "I can think of a rude awakening. Silencio! Farewell message from my dad—he can wake up with pieces of his owl in his bed!"

Harry shot bolt upright, whipping out his wand. "Expelliarmus!" Draco's wand went flying, and Crabbe and Goyle yelled in surprise. Hedwig flapped her wings frantically and hooted silently, thanks to Draco's spell. "You keep your slimy hands off my owl, Malfoy!" Harry bellowed.

"What the devil is going on in here!" Madam Pomfrey's shout sent Draco scrambling to grab his wand and the three of them pelting out the door. "Harry, what—"

"A little visit from Malfoy," Harry growled, trying to hide his dizziness as he took the Silencing Charm off Hedwig. The owl hopped into his bed to nibble anxiously at his ear, and he sank back onto the pillow.

Madam Pomfrey, well aware of the Gryffindor-Slytherin enmity that was practically embodied in Harry and Draco—having patched up the results of their various encounters over the years—snorted. "I should have expected it. I only hope I'm not going to have to heal him in a few minutes."

"I only disarmed when he threatened to kill my owl," said Harry petulantly.

"Well, I'll report it," said Madam Pomfrey. "Now back to bed with you, Mr. Potter. Convalescence from the Draught of Living Death takes long enough without your overexerting yourself."

Harry nodded, yawned, and pulled the covers back up. "Madam Pomfrey, what day is it?"

"Just past midnight, Sunday. If you behave yourself and rest, you may not have to miss the entire first week!"

When he awoke again, it was mid-afternoon and still Sunday, he was pleased to learn. Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley were sitting with him, and Harry tensed up instinctively at hearing the sound of Snape's voice, in conversation with Madam Pomfrey.

"Now how much time did he have before you tried to move him?"

"About ten minutes after I administered the antidote."

"Severus! Honestly—"

"The Dark Lord could sense his return to consciousness within seconds, Madam Pomfrey, better to have a slowed recovery than no recovery at all if we were captured!"

"How long was he conscious after that?"

"I'm not precisely sure. Less than five minutes."

"Severus, can you possibly be any less specific?"

"I was rather distract—don't even think about it, Lupin."

"Think about what, Severus?"

"I did what I did to keep the Dark Lord from winning this war, no other reason!"

Harry pried his eyes open, listening curiously. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Madam Pomfrey were too busy watching the exchange to notice Harry was awake. Snape looked quite belligerent, but Lupin seemed rather amused.

"No other reason, Severus?"

Snape folded his arms and scowled. "None at all."

Lupin smiled, "Not even to save an innocent life?"

Snape threw up his hands. "Very well, O-Kind-and-Gentle-Werewolf," (Lupin just chuckled,) "I confess: out of the goodness of my heart I walked straight into the Dark Lord's stronghold while he and his minions were out harassing Aurors, dug the boy out and dragged his dead weight back to Hogwarts, completely blowing my cover as an infiltrator and cutting off one of our most crucial lines of intelligence. Do not thank me!"

Remus never lost his smile, but folded his arms and said lightly, "I'm sorry, Severus. You're an excellent dissembler, but you have not distracted me from my objective. No matter how uncaring you claim to be, how despicable you attempt to appear, you will not dissuade me from feeling gratitude to you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for saving Harry."

With a disgusted growl, Snape stalked past Lupin out of the hospital wing. Remus was chuckling along with Mrs. Weasley and Madam Pomfrey when Ron turned and looked at the bed. "Harry!"

Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley spun around, and the next several minutes were a blur of them fussing wildly over him, until Harry could convince them he was not going to keel over if allowed to sit up. Once they had stopped fluffing pillows, propping Harry up, and nagging him to eat, Remus and Mrs. Weasley sat on each side of the bed, with Ron and Hermione standing at the foot again. Remus noticed Harry looking in the direction Snape had gone. "Don't mind him, Harry. For all his charming disposition, he was as desperate as we were to get you out of there."

Harry stirred the soup Madam Pomfrey had given him. "What happened? After Privet Drive?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "We knew you'd want to know, so we saved all the Daily Prophets clippings—about important things, anyway," said Ron. "Hermione made it all into a book."

"And…when you're feeling better," said Hermione, "we kept a diary. So you could see…" She blushed at Harry's startled expression.

"You mean a diary like Tom Riddle's!"

"It's not dangerous!" Hermione said hastily. "I talked to Professor Dumbledore about it. Wizards can make diaries that will take them into the pages to remember things that have happened—sort of like home videos without cameras," she explained. "Do you want us to get them?"

Harry slowly nodded, and they jumped up and hurried away. Once they'd gone, he said to Remus, "I still don't understand how Snape…did what he did. The night Voldemort got me…he was a Death Eater."

"Professor Snape, Harry," said Remus. He smiled, but his voice was firm. "Now more than ever, he deserves your respect. I'm sure if you hadn't had more important things on your mind, you'd have figured it out. Severus was a spy."

Harry sat back against the propped-up pillows, digesting this. It all made sense: Dumbledore's unswerving insistence that Snape was trustworthy, Snape bringing the Pensieve with an altered prophecy to prevent Voldemort from killing Harry, Snape devising the use of a potion to subdue him, and Snape knowing when Voldemort would be absent so Harry could be rescued

And Snape goading Sirius to the point where he rushed off to the Department of Mysteries and got killed. "I don't understand," Harry whispered. "Everyone knew he had been a spy after Voldemort fell the first time. How could he have gone back?"

"Severus was playing a double-agent. Voldemort believed he was spying on Dumbledore." Remus grimaced, "Although Severus did suffer after the return, until he convinced Voldemort that he was still trustworthy."

"That's why he brought the prophecy," Harry realized. "So Voldemort would think…"

"Exactly, Harry," Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, making him meet his eyes. "You don't have to like Professor Snape," he said softly. "I don't like Professor Snape." Harry smiled weakly. "But he is on our side, and we all owe him for that. He has risked his life many times over obtaining information for us. To say nothing of what he risked to save you."

Harry's insides were churning, and Madam Pomfrey said, "Are you feeling sick, Harry?"

"Maybe a little," he said. "Guess I haven't really eaten in awhile."

"You may not have much appetite for a bit, but you should try." She took the tray with the barely-touched soup away.

Just then, Ron and Hermione came back, with Professor Dumbledore trailing behind them. Ron held what looked like a scrapbook, and Hermione a smaller book. "Good afternoon, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "You look much improved. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Harry said. For some reason, seeing Dumbledore gave him that same, funny, churning-insides feeling as thinking about Snape as his rescuer. It was as if he didn't know what to feel. The last time he'd seen Dumbledore—apart from the blurry, almost-unconscious memory he had of when he'd first gotten back—they'd been on the lawn of Privet Drive. "Professor Dumbledore…what happened to Dudley and my aunt?"

Dumbledore's cheerful expression seemed to melt away, his eyes growing desperately sad. He drew a chair up to the bedside, and Remus moved away to make room. Harry wished he hadn't. "Your aunt and cousin are safe. I am so very sorry about your Uncle Vernon."

Harry's chest got very heavy for a few moments, making it hurt to breathe. He didn't know what to feel about Uncle Vernon either, but of all the emotions churning around inside him, guilt was rising to the forefront. He folded his arms and stared down at the bedcovers. "I couldn't…get him out in time. We waited too long." They never wanted me because Aunt Petunia knew something like this would happen. She was just trying to protect her family. In the end she was right. I brought them nothing but disaster…

Warm fingers caught his chin and made him look up. Dumbledore wasn't quite meeting his eyes, for reasons Harry understood, but the gentle understanding in the headmaster's eyes brought a lump to Harry's throat. "Harry. What happened to your uncle was not your fault. Petunia Dursley may not have been happy about the prospect of taking you in, but I promise you: she knew the dangers. I made no effort to hide them from her. She took you in because you were in danger, and because danger is something that families must sometimes share."

His eyes stinging, Harry whispered, "But she blames me, doesn't she? They both do." Dumbledore didn't answer, which told Harry all he needed to know. "I was the only person who could have saved him."

"Oh, Harry, no!" Hermione pleaded. "You can't think like that!"

"Why not?" he muttered, gritting his teeth.

"Because," Dumbledore said to Harry as Mrs. Weasley stroked his hair, "one of the hardest lessons to learn is that there will be battles you are unable to win. There will be tasks you cannot perform. You had very little time, Harry, and three terrified people unacquainted with our world to move to safety all on your own, with Lord Voldemort himself coming for you. You did all that you could. You must not despise yourself for failing to do more."

Harry had jammed his teeth into his lower lip, desperate to keep his emotions at bay, but felt Mrs. Weasley put her arms around him again. A part of him just wanted to let her hold him forever, it felt so wonderful, but another part of him panicked—if she held him, he knew he would not be able to stay under control. But he couldn't pull away without hurting her feelings; his throat was getting tighter, and he bit his lip harder, trying to hold the agony in. So much had happened, so much…Sirius, the prophecy, Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon, Snape, the torture, the Draught, the terror…

Mrs. Weasley abruptly kissed his forehead, near his scar. "It's all right, Harry," she said softly. "Everything's going to be all right."

A gasping sob wrenched out of him. Then another. As more followed, faster and faster, Harry heard Lupin exclaim in dismay, but Dumbledore said, "Let Molly handle this, Remus. It is, after all, her area of expertise."

To Harry, it had only been a few horrible weeks from Sirius' death to this moment. And finally, all the fear and pain and anger and shock simply refused to stay inside him, and he clung to Ron's mother and cried. It was so easy now—he should have been utterly humiliated that Professor Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Ron and Hermione were all standing right there watching him sob like a baby in Mrs. Weasley's arms. But he just couldn't seem to care anymore.

He cried for a long time, or maybe it just seemed long to him. When at last it started to wear down, and normal emotions like embarrassment found their way back in again, he muttered, "Sorry."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron, who had taken Remus's place on the other edge of the bed so he could rub Harry's back. "Believe me, we've done enough of that in the past few months when we didn't know what would happen. There were times I'd be minding my own business one minute, then curled up on the floor bawling my eyes out the next!"

That made Harry stare at them in surprise; the thought of Ron crying hard like Hermione or Mrs. Weasley seemed just…odd. Behind Ron, Hermione had tears running down her face, but she was grinning. Just then, the hospital wing door opened. Harry glanced over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder—and froze.

Professor Snape looked almost as startled as Harry was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Harry gaping at him, his face still stained with tears, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Snape's expression went from surprised to completely blank, and he turned on his heel and marched from the room. Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and quietly followed him out.

"Bloody…hell," Ron muttered. "Of all the moments he had to walk in here."

Hermione swatted him. "Don't say that, Ron. He saved Harry, remember?"

"And I'd thank him myself if I didn't think he'd tell me to sod off!" Ron retorted. "Five knuts says he brings this up first chance he gets."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, seeing Harry blanch. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Things are different this year. We're at war now. Our side has to unite, and Snape knows that too."

Harry mustered a smile. He hoped she was right. Nodding to the books they'd brought, he said, "So? Let's see!"

"Oh, right," Ron scooted over on the bed to make room for Hermione, and plunked the scrap book into Harry's lap. "Ah…Harry, just so you know, some of this stuff…isn't pleasant. I still get sick to my stomach reading it."

"Erm…okay." Harry eyed the big book dubiously, then shook his head. "I may as well read it—it's not as if I can pretend it didn't happen." With a deep breath, he threw it open to the first clipping.

"Special edition of the Prophet," said Hermione. "From that Monday night."

Boy-Who-Lived Captured By He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!

Only moments after a major battle at Azkaban Prison, in which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was seen in person freeing his Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's followers launched a devastating attack upon the Muggle neighborhood of Little Whinging, Surrey, striking the home of Muggles Petunia and Vernon Dursley, relatives and guardians of Harry Potter.

The double-attack stretched Auror forces critically thin, resulting in several losses (for list of those fallen in tonight's battle, see memorial announcement, Page 5), but witnesses report that the valiant defense of the house by the Aurors, combined with defensive wards established sixteen years ago to protect the Boy-Who-Lived, appeared to be succeeding until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named arrived in person. The Dark Lord reportedly overcame the wards, with the resulting magical shock causing severe injury to several Aurors and Death Eaters and major damage to the street, and directly assaulted the house.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster Albus Dumbledore arrived on the scene moments later, but was prevented from taking on You-Know-Who immediately due to an attack by dementors.

Just as the defensive response appeared to be succeeding and the dementors were driven away, witnesses were horrified to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named departing the house with young Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived appeared to be wounded and under the control of a spell. Headmaster Dumbledore attempted to negotiate Potter's release, to no avail, and the Dark Lord escaped with his hostage.

The entire wizarding world is shaken to its core by this horrific turn of events. A brief statement was given by an Auror on the scene of the attack, saying that no effort would be spared for Harry Potter's rescue. "To be in the hands of Lord Vis a fate too terrible to imagine for anyone, let alone Harry."

Statements are being sought from of Harry Potter's acquaintances. The Daily Prophet also extends its condolences to the Dursley family. An unconfirmed report states that Vernon Dursley, Potter's uncle, was killed defending his wife, son, and nephew. There will be more special editions as this story develops.

Harry stared for several minutes at the picture: it was Number Four, Privet Drive on fire with the Dark Mark hovering overhead. His memory of the attack was a little hazy, especially after he'd been under Voldemort's trance, but that image he would never forget. Down on one side of the burning garden, he noticed a red-robed Auror sitting on the curb with her arms around a shabby-robed man. It was Remus. And with a rush of emotion that made him queasy, Harry realized he was crying. The Auror with her arm around him was Tonks, and she too was in tears.

He hastily flipped to the next clipping: Message Received By Death Eaters: Boy-Who-Lived Held Prisoner, Tortured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

And the next: Candlelight Vigils, Offers of International Assistance Abound as Massive Search Begins for Boy-Who-Lived.

And the next: Death Eaters Strike Bones Household, Auror Injuries Reported, No Word For A Week on Fate of Boy-Who-Lived.

And the next: Acquaintances, Friends of Boy-Who-Lived Release Statement of Love, Hope. Harry blinked, and read the short article: A statement was delivered to the Daily Prophet today by several classmates and close friends of Harry Potter, who was abducted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named one week ago. The identities of the underage wizards are being withheld for their safety, at the request of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, but the students and their families asked that their message be run in the hopes that it will reach the imprisoned Boy-Who-Lived.

"We don't know if he'll ever see this, but we want to say it anyway," said the students' spokesperson, a Hogwarts student in Potter's year, whose great distress were painfully visible to this reporter. The young student was not quite able to hold back tears as they spoke . "Harry, wherever you are, we want you to know that we're not ever giving up. We're all searching as hard as we can, thinking about you every minute. We love you and miss you, so please just hang on. We're going to find you no matter what it takes and bring you home.."

Harry blinked several times as the page blurred. Hermione had her hand on his knee. He grinned sheepishly. "I wish I had seen this that first night in Voldemort's headquarters. It would've made me feel better. Thanks," he said. "I assume you were the spokesperson?"

Hermione grinned broadly, "Actually, no, I wasn't." Harry blinked again and they both looked at Ron, who turned bright red.

Looking at the bedcovers, Ron muttered, "Told you I was a wreck," but he too was grinning sheepishly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and reached past Harry to pat Ron's cheek. "Weren't we all. It was Ron, Hermione, Ginny—well, all of our family, of course—your friends Neville and Luna, and quite a few other classmates. They begged and pleaded for four days until we brought them all to the Daily Prophet together."

"Well, we knew we wouldn't be able to sign our names," said Hermione, "so we wanted it to be from all of us, and this seemed right. Even if you couldn't read it."

"The whole country was going mad," said Ron. "Felt like the whole world was, even. Hagrid and Madame Maxine went back to the giants to see if they knew anything—nearly got killed for their trouble again."

Harry grimaced. "Where is Hagrid, by the way?"

"He's been to see you about twenty times since you got back, but something came up with Grawp, and he had to leave this morning," said Hermione. "He said to tell you he'll be coming by first thing as soon his class is done tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Hagrid and Madame Maxine got a lot of help from other wizarding governments. The French Wizarding Ministry sent an Auror squad, the Americans sent three squads and even used some of their Muggle technology—what's it called, Hermione?"

"Satellites," said Hermione. "Infrared imaging. That sort of thing. We thought that if Voldemort had lots of concealment charms on you, maybe it wouldn't occur to him to shield against Muggle methods, which are actually quite advanced, contrary to what Fudge thinks."

Harry frowned to himself. "Why couldn't Snape tell him where Voldemort's headquarters were?"

"Professor Snape doesn't know," said Mrs. Weasley. "You were in You-Know-Who's main stronghold, Harry. It's not possible to Apparate directly in, and once you get outside, there's a permanent befuddlement charm that keeps you from being able to see where it's located. Death Eaters have to Apparate into the charm zone and then cross inside. We'd hoped that if we could locate where it actually was, we could give him some sort of cover or back-up when he went to get you, but we couldn't. He had to go it alone."

Hermione shivered. "We didn't even know whether you were alive for weeks. It was so awful; some nights I couldn't go to sleep, and other days I just didn't want to wake up. Obviously, we weren't told anything about Snape and the Death Eaters. Right around your birthday, Professor Dumbledore told us you were being held prisoner."

Harry picked up the diary. To his relief, it looked almost nothing like the one Tom Riddle had used; its cover was red and gold. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley was written on the inside, but like Riddle's diary, the pages were blank. "I charmed the diary so no one but us can use it," said Hermione. "You can either tell it to reveal the words and just read what we wrote, or if you ask a specific date, it'll take you in."

"Very clever, Hermione, but I don't think Harry needs to be jumping into any books just yet," said Remus from behind them.

"True," said Ron. "And it's not as if you can't guess what went on. The beginning's awful, and the rest is mostly us running around, trying to figure out what was going on and feeling ruddy useless."

"Well, you accomplished more than I did," Harry snorted. "I slept through it." Mrs. Weasley cringed and put a hand on his shoulder.

But Hermione said, "I'm glad, Harry. I mean, I wish you'd never been taken at all, but when we didn't know what was happening, we were…going mad wondering if they were…hurting you every minute."

Harry shivered and decided not to tell them what that first night had been like. It would only upset them. "Yeah, at least I didn't…have to wait through it. On the other hand I can't remember the time passing. It still feels like it should be summer holiday."

"That'll ease once you're back in classes," said Remus.

"How much longer do I have to stay here?" Harry asked.

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Much better," Harry insisted. "Like I slept well and can get up. Couldn't I start classes on time?" he asked hopefully.

Madam Pomfrey frowned, "That would be pushing it a bit, Harry. The Draught of Living Death can have lingering effects, and your body is still weak. You need rest and recuperation."

"But all I have to do is make it to class," Harry protested. "If I miss the first week, I'll be trying to catch up all year!"

Madam Pomfrey shooed Ron and Hermione out of the way, looked at Harry's eyes, and checked his pulse, tutting to herself. "See if you can get out of bed and walk a bit now."

Eagerly, Harry tossed the bedcovers off. "Slowly, Harry," warned Remus. "You've been comatose."

So Harry took a few deep breaths and sat up on his own with his legs over the edge. The sooner he could start classes again, the sooner he could get all this behind him. The last thing he wanted was to start out late, and walk into class one day to everyone staring and whispering, and then have to catch up with everyone else. What was there to do here except lie in bed and think about Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley and Sirius and that night in Voldemort's headquarters…

Resolutely, he put his feet on the floor and pushed himself up. Ron and Hermione hovered on either side of him in case he fell, but all he did was sway a little. He took a few tentative steps, then a few more. His legs were very shaky, but he stayed upright, and managed a slow walk to the end of the hospital wing and back. Of course, he felt like he could fall right over by the time he got back to his bed, but he masked it with a smile of triumph.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "You teenagers' physical strength never ceases to amaze me, Potter. Even after being locked in a cave and drugged for ten weeks, you'll be up and getting yourself hexed or bitten by one of Hagrid's pets within a week."

Harry sat down on his bed again (nonchalantly, so she wouldn't get suspicious) and smiled sweetly at her. "Does this mean I can leave?"

"On your head be it, Potter. But make no mistake," she pointed at him. "Do not think that just because you feel well now, the potion's effects are through with you. You may find yourself facing unexpected moments of exhaustion or weakness, if that happens, go lie down straightaway. I'll send a note along to your teachers. You should tread cautiously for at least a week—do not overexert yourself!"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered, feeling himself blushing as she kept her finger in his face.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" she added.

"Er…" In a rush of dismay, Harry realized he didn't know. He also realized he hadn't quite finished his homework.

"It's DADA tomorrow morning, and Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration in the afternoon," said Hermione. "Oh…we picked your classes for you, Harry, I hope you don't mind. But we had to get your books, and we didn't know when you'd be back…"

Harry waved off her concerns. "Doesn't matter as long as I haven't got Divination." Ron sniggered and shook his head. "So what am I taking?"

Paper rustled as Hermione opened the newspaper scrapbook to the last page. "Put it in here somewhere," she muttered. "Aha." She handed him the list.

N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts (General)

Advanced Defense: Focus on Curses

N.E.W.T. Potions

N.E.W.T. Transfiguration

N.E.W.T. Charms

Advanced Care of Magical Creatures

N.E.W.T. Herbology

International Magical Cooperation

Specialized Defense

"Wow," Harry murmured, reading the list appreciatively. "Good choices!"

"Neville, Ron, and I worked it out with Professor McGonagall," said Hermione. "Of course, we knew which N.E.W.T. Courses you would have, but the electives list didn't come out until we got our regular letters."

Ron pointed at the list. "The letters said that anyone who wants careers in Magical Law Enforcement should take Specialized Defense and at least one other DADA course. Professor McGonagall said you want to be an Auror, so we got you that one, and she thought International Magical Cooperation would be good for you too. And we thought Focus on Curses was what we really needed."

Harry couldn't argue with that. Then he cringed. "Even if Snape doesn't mention any of…this…I doubt he'll fail to notice that I haven't got my homework."

The empty hospital wing rang with Ron and Hermione's laughter, but behind them, Lupin said, "Don't worry, Harry, Professor Dumbledore's issued a general order that you be given extra time to make up your homework—just be sure and do Potions first."

Grimacing to himself, Harry muttered, "I'd about finished that essay when…it happened. Maybe by some miracle I'll be able to remember most of it."

Ron goggled at him. "Finished it? Three days after we got our O.W.L. results!"

"I'd nothing better to do!"

Madam Pomfrey clapped her hands at them. "Mr. Potter, if you're so determined to get to classes tomorrow, I suggest you return to your dormitory at once and have a good night's sleep. You'll need it. Now off with you!"