Harry’s eyes flew open and his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were watery with tears as he gazed up at the ceiling, seeing Sirius fall through the veil even there. Sweat dotted his forehead and his scar prickled incessantly, despite the nightmare having nothing to do with Voldemort. He turned his head on the pillow, ignoring the spots obviously dampened by tears, and found the books normally on his desk floating above it instead.

He frowned at the increasingly common event. It seemed random items were floating around his room every day and he didn’t know why. He stared at them and focused long enough to force them to fall back onto the desk. Sighing, he turned his head to look back up at the ceiling.

Another day in which he’d awoken and had to deal with Sirius being gone. Another day in which he’d rather not have woken at all.

Twenty-four days and counting though he wished the counting would stop.

He didn’t want to live in this world where he’d caused so much pain and death. He didn’t want to live in this world without Sirius, the only person to ever give a damn about him. He didn’t want to live in this world where he was ignored and kept in the dark until it was convenient, but convenient for others, not him. No, for him, it destroyed his life even more each time and did nothing but keep him shoved aside until someone else decided he was needed.

He rubbed his eyes aggressively, making them ache. He finally pushed himself up to be sitting, crossing his legs under his pitiful blanket. He leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his fingers in his hair, gripping until it hurt. After a few seconds, he released his hair and lifted his head to stare at a seemingly empty corner of the room.

“Good morning to whoever is here,” he said dully, throwing the blanket aside and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. There was no response, but he felt the odd charge in the air that he’d come to realize was magic. “I know someone’s here, I’m not stupid.”

He was putting his glasses on when the charged air pulsed slightly and he was suddenly looking at a clearly unimpressed Snape. The man’s stare was hard, his mouth was thin, and his arms were over his chest, wand in one hand. Harry knew the look he gave the man was disinterested at best, but he couldn’t muster up more.

“Professor,” he said with little feeling.

He waved his wand over himself, muttering, and magically changed his tattered, oversized pajamas for his tattered, oversized clothes. While he could never praise a single thing that happened at the Ministry, he was appreciative of the chaos Voldemort’s acknowledged return had caused in the Ministry. Underage magic was no longer being monitored, nor magic in the presence of Muggles. All attention was on Voldemort’s return, the spiking Death Eater activity, and Fudge’s abominable failures. Even the kind of magic being used was no longer monitored unless it was part of a Death Eater raid, meaning anyone could use any magic, even the Unforgiveables. The war was unravelling their world.

“Potter,” Snape said stiffly. “How did you know I was here?”

Harry leaned on his knees again. “I mean, there’s always someone. I know the Order’s been told to watch me,” he said, sighing at Snape’s stare. “Aside from that, I could also feel your magic.”

Snape frowned at him. “You can feel magic?”

Harry nodded, looking at his hands as he picked absently at a hangnail. “I didn’t know it was your magic specifically, but, yeah, it’s a thing that I can do now, feel magic. Same with the whole levitating things without meaning to.”

“When did these things start?” Snape asked.

Harry went still, staring hard at his hands which he laced tightly together. “In the last few weeks. Something…happened or changed after the Ministry.”

“Boy! Get down here!” Vernon’s yell interrupted whatever Snape had been about to say.

Harry sighed and got to his feet, walking to the door. Before opening it to head downstairs, he turned back to Snape.

“If you’re coming, put the Disillusionment back on,” Harry said. “Dursleys hate magic.”

Snape stared at him for a moment, obviously deciding what he wanted to do. Eventually, he tapped his wand on his head and he disappeared though Harry could now feel the active magic.

“Don’t say anything. They’ll lose it if they find out you’re here,” Harry said. “Also, don’t worry about anything you see or hear. Not that I think you’d care, honestly, but it doesn’t matter, just ignore it.”

With that, he opened the door and headed downstairs, feeling Snape’s magic a few steps behind him. He stepped off the stairs and headed down the small, short hallway to the kitchen. He was about to enter the kitchen when Vernon’s large, meaty hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing. Harry winced, but kept quiet and his eyes forward at the kitchen.

“Burn or break anything again today, boy, and you’re in trouble,” Vernon said lowly into his ear.

Harry clenched his jaw. “Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

Vernon shoved him hard, then, making him stumble into the kitchen while Vernon waddled over to sit with his family at the dining table. Harry avoided looking at his relatives, keeping his eyes locked on the full breakfast he was preparing. He could feel Snape standing nearby, likely leaning against the counter behind him as he observed.

Harry found himself oddly calm knowing it was the professor behind him rather than any of the other Order members. He wasn’t sure why, considering this last year had been the worst their relationship had ever been. As he fried up the tomatoes, he pondered absently, curious why he felt okay with Snape, but no one else, especially when he had felt nothing but abject pain, loneliness, and depression for weeks. Perhaps it was the fact that Snape didn’t care, so he didn’t feel the need to pretend. Perhaps it was because Snape would likely agree Harry had been stupid and that stupidity got Sirius killed. Perhaps it was because Snape knew in a way no one else did because only they and Dumbledore knew of the prophecy. Perhaps it was because, while everyone else had changed towards him in the last year, Snape remained a horrible constant.

He was jerked from his musings as he was suddenly hit hard in the back. He fell forward from the unexpected force and put his hands out to catch himself out of instinct. His left hand landed on the counter, but his right landed on the stovetop. It knocked into the pan where he was frying the bacon, landing partially on the element while hot grease sloshed out of the pan and onto his hand. He couldn’t stop the small yelp that escaped him as he yanked his hand away, but snapped his mouth shut to prevent any more noise and drawing Vernon’s attention. He turned his head to glare at Dudley who was just closing the refrigerator after grabbing a fizzy drink and smirked at him.

“Watch it, Potter,” Dudley sneered, swiping past him again to return to the dining table.

Harry felt a rise in the air behind him and turned towards it just enough for Snape to know he was the one being spoken to. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Please, leave it.”

He could almost swear he felt Snape’s magic bristle before it settled. He felt his lips twitch at the indignation he could still feel emanating from the man and his magic. He raised an eyebrow when the faucet suddenly turned on at the sink beside him. Apparently, his lack of immediate response was incorrect as an invisible hand pushed his shoulder to make him move to the sink and then pulled his injured hand under the cold water. His lips twitched again, amusement threatening to break through his haze of despair.

After just a couple seconds, he made to remove his hand, but Snape held him still. He frowned at where he knew the professor was.

“I have to finish breakfast,” he whispered.

The air around him buzzed and he was soon watching the bacon resume frying, toast getting buttered, and everything plated. Within moments, three plates with a full English breakfast were prepared and waiting to be served.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered and, this time when he pulled away from the water, he was allowed.

He managed to balance two plates on his forearms to avoid using his injured hand and brought them to his relatives as swiftly as possible. None of them spoke, all eyes glued to the telly, allowing him to retreat back to the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow again when he found a small plate with two extra buttered slices of toast. He reached out to grab them and then gestured to the doorway with his head.

“Come on,” he said quietly. He felt almost a questioning air in Snape’s magic. “I know you’re not allowed to leave me alone and I need a break from here, so come on.”

He left the kitchen and headed back down the hall to the front door. Feeling Snape behind him, he held the door long enough for the man to exit before letting it close. Glancing around found the street completely deserted and Snape soon reappeared next to him. He cocked his head to the right, indicating his intended direction, and led the way to the abandoned park nearby. He honestly would’ve preferred to go somewhere else, not wanting the memories of seeing Sirius for the first time in the park, but given there was nowhere else, he had to settle.

Arriving at the park, he sat on the bench and was surprised when Snape joined him.

“Give me your hand,” Snape said and Harry did so without question, using his other to munch on his toast. He watched as Snape pulled a jar from somewhere in his robes and, opening it, began to gently massage a white cream into his burns. “Why did you not respond?”

“Told you, the Dursleys hate magic,” Harry said. “It would have just made things worse.”

Snape hummed, turning his hand over to treat his palm.

“You should eat more,” Snape said.

“That would imply I’m allowed,” Harry said flippantly, pulling his hand back once Snape finished wrapping it in light, white bandages from his wand. “Thanks.”

“Your relatives do not allow you to eat?” Snape said.

“Oh, they do. I get whatever’s left,” Harry said, finishing off his first piece of toast. “Given the size of my uncle and cousin, I’m sure you can guess there isn’t always much.”

“Potter—”

“Forget it,” Harry said, waving his bandaged hand through the air as he started his second piece of toast. “I didn’t think you’d care, given your insistence over the years that my life is a paradise. Figured you’d be thrilled to find out it’s not true.”

“Even I can admit wrong when faced with such damning evidence,” Snape said.

“Fascinating,” Harry muttered, gaining a raised eyebrow. “I think there’s a lot we don’t understand about each other, Professor.”

Snape just hummed again, gazing at the rusted swing set.

“I’m surprised you revealed yourself,” Harry said after a few moments of silence.

“I couldn’t very well ignore you when you knew I was there,” Snape said.

“Everyone else does,” Harry said, feeling Snape’s eyes slide to him. “They all act like I’m stupid.”

“You are stupid,” Snape said. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah, guess I am,” Harry said, drifting away to the Ministry, his face crumpling into a pained frown.

“If no one has spoken to you, how do you know we are not to leave you alone?” Snape asked.

“You mean, aside from the fact that there is literally someone here all the time?” Harry said and Snape nodded. “What did Dumbledore tell you?”

“We are additional protection due to the rise in Death Eater attacks,” Snape said.

Harry snorted, tossing his remaining toast onto the ground and watching a few pigeons come to fight over it. “I know you know that’s complete shite.”

“Oh?” Snape said, eyebrow rising again.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know you’re a spy. You think I don’t know you’re the reason the Order showed up at the Ministry?”

Snape said nothing, but Harry did see the smallest of frowns downturn his lips.

“Anyway, no, you’re not here to stop Death Eaters from offing me,” Harry said. “He’s making sure I don’t off myself before I can be useful.”

Harry was surprised to see the look of shock that crossed Snape’s face.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Snape said, forehead wrinkled and mouth in a deep frown.

“I destroyed Dumbledore’s office and basically told him I wanted to die,” Harry said, voice a little duller as he stared at the rusty swings that swung just slightly in the barely-there breeze.

“Did you mean it?” Snape asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said shortly.

“And now?”

Harry shrugged. “More often than not.”

“Potter…”

Harry turned to Snape when the man trailed off, a tone in his voice Harry had never heard before. He was certain there was worry or concern in the black eyes, and knew the hum of worry in his mind wasn’t his. He raised an eyebrow and gave a half-smile that lacked amusement.

“Careful, Professor, or I might start to think you care,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Potter, you need help,” Snape said.

Harry scoffed. “And who’s going to help me, Professor?”

There was no response and Harry glared at the swings again, trying to ignore the rising pain. He hated how true it was, how alone he truly was. There was no one that could or would help him. He just had to exist in his pain until someone else, likely Dumbledore, decided it was time for him to die. He shook his head at himself and got to his feet.

“Come on, should get back,” Harry muttered. He didn’t wait for Snape to follow him, just assuming the professor would as he made his way back up to the street to Number Four. As he opened the door, he felt the air ripple behind him as Snape reapplied his Disillusionment Charm.

“They did not realize you were gone?” Snape asked quietly as they climbed the stairs.

“They wish I was,” Harry said, letting them into his room where he immediately collapsed on the bed. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, but did see Snape reappear in the corner in his periphery. “It’s the one thing we’ve actually always had in common.”

“Potter—”

“You can go, Professor,” Harry said. “Have a good night.” It didn’t matter that it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. For Harry, it was basically nighttime as he would probably spend the rest of the day drifting in and out of tortured sleep.

“I cannot leave you alone, as you pointed out, and you have done the complete opposite of convincing me otherwise,” Snape said.

Harry rolled his head so he could look at Snape with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill myself when I’ve got a job to do. I know better than that, to die before I’m of use.”

He saw the realization that dawned on the man. “He told you the prophecy.”

Harry gave an insincere smile that was closer to a sneer, turning back to the ceiling. “Sure did,” he said. “So, you see, I’m not going to off myself, not when I’m going to die at Dumbledore’s command anyway.”

The small buzz that picked up in his mind made Harry frown and look back at Snape.

“Why are you angry?” Harry asked and the professor looked at him sharply.

“What are you talking about?” Snape snapped.

Harry sighed. “Know how I was a complete failure at Occlumency?”

Snape nodded, frowning and scowling at the reminder of said disastrous lessons.

“Well, I can apparently do Legilimency without even trying,” Harry said. “Started with everything else. I can just…connect to some people’s minds and get…impressions, I guess, from others.”

“Potter, were you examined after the Ministry?” Snape asked and Harry winced when a wave of alarm washed over him, creating an odd pain in his skull.

“Merlin, if this is what you feel all the time, no wonder you’re a bastard,” Harry said, rubbing his temples.

“I only feel it when I am actively performing Legilimency,” Snape said. “Tell me, were you examined?”

“Just by Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said. “Got a Pain Reliever and a Pepper-Up so I could talk to Dumbledore. She said I wasn’t all that injured.”

“You were tortured and possessed, correct?” Snape said

Harry nodded stiffly, not appreciating the reminder.

“You require a core examination,” Snape said. “It could reveal the reason you are experiencing these things.”

“Why, what is it?” Harry asked.

“It is an examination that looks at your magical core and reveals any changes or damages,” Snape said.

“That can happen?”

Snape nodded. “I am surprised the headmaster did not insist on one given the possession.”

“I’m not,” Harry said, glaring up at the ceiling. “Ignoring things is what he does best, especially if the alternative is me not being or doing what he wants.”

“This could help you,” Snape said.

“Again, who is going to help me, Professor?” Harry said. “If you haven’t noticed, I was dumped back here nearly a month ago and you are the first person I’ve actually seen or spoken to. Helping me is no one’s priority. I’m just here to fight for them and, if I die, well, it was for the greater good, wasn’t it?”

Harry stared at the professor, holding the dark eyes. They seemed empty, but Harry could tell there was something there and it wasn’t the normal angry hatred he’d seen for the last five years. An image of Snape crying in Dumbledore’s office flashed in his mind along with a hum that he could tell was regret.

“Don’t worry, Professor, none of it is your fault,” Harry said. “Dumbledore told me about you and my mother and the prophecy, but I don’t blame you. Pettigrew betrayed my parents and Voldemort would have gone after them eventually, with or without the prophecy.”

He saw Snape was going to respond, but was interrupted by two envelopes popping into the room, one in front of each of them. Harry grabbed his, but kept his eyes on Snape.

“I must go,” Snape said though Harry saw the hesitation, felt the worry, saw the image of him dead as his mind picked it up from Snape’s.

Harry frowned slightly, confused by the man’s apparent concern. Snape hated him and no one else seemed to be concerned, so why was Snape?

“I’ll be fine, Professor, promise,” Harry said. “I’ll live to annoy you another day.”

Harry couldn’t help his small, cheeky grin at Snape’s withering scowl. He watched as Snape waved his wand to reveal the fireplace Harry wasn’t supposed to know about, the one set up for Flooing to and from Grimmauld Place, but only to those keyed to it.

“Professor,” Harry said before the man could step into the green flames. Snape turned to him. “Thank you for talking. I know you hate me and you have every reason to, but it was nice not to be alone for at least a couple hours.”

Snape gave him an odd look before giving a short nod and disappearing into the fire.

“Albus, might I speak with you?” Severus asked once the meeting had ended. They both watched as the other members left the kitchen, disappearing to either Hogwarts, other rooms in the house, or to assigned tasks. Once they were alone in the kitchen, they turned to each other.

“What’s on your mind, my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

“It’s about Potter,” Severus said, his mind instantly conjuring an image of the boy he’d spent the day with, the boy so unlike the one he’d dealt with for the last five years. He frowned at the odd niggle of worry he felt as he thought of the boy.

“Is everything alright?” Dumbledore asked.

“I am uncertain,” Severus said. “I spoke with him and he—”

“You talked to Harry?” Dumbledore interrupted and Severus nodded with a frown. “Severus, I believe I told the guard not to speak with Harry or reveal yourselves to him.”

“Yes, you did, but it was unavoidable. He knew I was there,” Severus said. “However, it appears to be for the best as he expressed loneliness and he is clearly depressed. I do not believe it wise to continue isolating him which does beg the question of why you have chosen to isolate him.”

“I decided it was for the best after what happened at the Ministry,” Dumbledore said. “As a result of Voldemort’s possession, Harry’s magic became erratic and impacted by his emotions. I decided giving him time alone would help his magic settle.”

“You made this decision even after Potter expressed suicidal thoughts,” Severus said.

“He was simply grieving Sirius,” Dumbledore said, nearly shrugging with his casualness.

“And you thought then was also the best time to tell him the prophecy?” Severus said, a slight air of disbelief.

“It was time for him to know as he would have come to wonder about it now he’d found it at the Ministry,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve only ever done what I believed was best for Harry.”

“Albus, I disagree,” Severus said. “The boy needs help. He needs a core examination and he cannot be left alone. He is depressed, angry, and suicidal.”

“He is stronger than you give him credit for, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “I am confident he will be alright. He only has to hang on until his birthday in two weeks and then he will come here for the rest of the summer.”

“Albus—”

“I must ask you not to speak to Harry again,” Dumbledore said. “He needs to have his magic under control before he is around more people.”

Severus frowned.

“I must be off,” Dumbledore said with a smile that did not fit the sternness he'd just spoken with. “Have a good evening, Severus.”

Severus watched the headmaster leave, filled with inner conflict. He wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t agree with Dumbledore’s ways of handling Potter, but he wasn’t sure he could push aside his hatred for the boy. Yet, even that deep-seated feeling wavered as he remembered the dull green eyes, the acceptance of his relatives’ horrible treatment, and the pained, resigned comments.

“And who is going to help me, Professor?”

“Thank you for talking … it was nice not to be alone for at least a couple hours.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered Potter’s words, an odd stirring in his gut.

“Oh, Severus?”

He looked up, finding Dumbledore in the kitchen doorway. He gave a questioning look.

“Did Harry receive a letter while you were with him?” Dumbledore asked.

“He did,” Severus said.

“Good, good,” Dumbledore said and Severus’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“What was it that is so important Potter have?” Severus asked.

“A letter from Sirius and his will,” Dumbledore said simply and Severus fought not to let his eyes widen until the headmaster had disappeared from the kitchen again.

Severus was tense as he listened for the Floo activating, waiting for the sign that Dumbledore was gone. He wasn’t sure he could explain it, but he suddenly had a wave of worry wash over him and he needed to check on Potter. Once he heard the fireplace flare, he immediately left the kitchen and headed to the sitting room.

He threw Floo Powder into the fire, loudly saying, “Number Four, Privet Drive!”

He stepped in and swirled away in the green flames. On the other side, his eyes widened as he took in the scene. The room looked like a tornado had torn through it and saw tornado was still circling. Parchments and books were scattered around the floor while other books and quills were flying around. The desk and its chair had been knocked over and the window was cracked. Potter was sat on the floor, his back against the bed, his knees pulled to his chest, and his hands buried in his hair. Despite the boy’s head being bowed and partially obscured by his arms, Severus could still see the tears, the purple bruises, and the red that was clearly blood. He could see the tremours wracking the thin body and could hear the quiet sobs.

Most of him wasn’t sure what to do; it was Potter, after all. However, there was a small part of him that was louder and stronger as it tugged painfully on his heart.

He took a small step forward, unsure how to get through the boy’s tornado only to find himself surprised when the flying objects moved around him. He moved slowly, the tornado creating a path for him so he could reach the Gryffindor. Once he was through the tornado and in front of Potter, he knelt down. He spotted crumpled parchment on the bed and sighed, knowing it was Black’s letter and will.

“Potter?” he said quietly.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Potter whispered, so quietly Severus almost didn’t hear it. “I…I can’t stop it.”

Severus glanced over his shoulder at the still swirling books and quills before turning back to the boy. “I can help you.”

Potter shook his head, fingers tightening in his hair. “No one can help me. No one wants to help me. Just let me die, please.”

“Why? Why do you want to die?” Severus asked, the despair in the boy’s voice pulling at him in a way he’d never experienced before.

“Because I killed him,” Potter said brokenly. “Because I’m worthless. Because I can’t do it anymore.”

Severus was startled by the familiar sentiments, stunned by the guilt. “Potter, look at me.”

The boy shook his head again and pulled viciously at his hair. He choked on sobs he tried to hold back. Severus didn’t think, he just reached out and gently grasped Potter’s chin, carefully but firmly bringing the boy’s head up. The hands were dislodged from the messy hair and tear=filled, dull green eyes met his. The left eye was blackened, a gash ran the length of the left cheekbone, blood had trailed down from the nose over the lips, mixing with the blood flowing from the split bottom lip.

“Potter, what happened?” Severus asked.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” Potter whispered.

“You don’t deserve this,” Severus said, pushing back images of another young boy in much the same condition.

“Doesn’t matter,” Potter said, defeated. “I can’t change it. I can’t stop it.”

“You can,” Severus said. “You just need help.”

“There’s no one to help me.” The green eyes drifted shut as tears poured down the boy’s cheeks, pooling around Severus’ fingers with the blood still trickling from the nose and lip.

Severus released Potter’s chin, moving to sit beside the boy with his back against the bed as well. He reached out and put his hand on Potter’s knee, his arm pressed against the trembling body.

“I can help you,” Severus repeated.

“Why?” Potter asked.

“Because I know what it’s like,” Severus said, sighing very slightly as his memories forced their way forward.

Potter shuddered as he devolved into harsh sobs, falling against Severus. The Gryffindor pressed his face to Severus’ shoulder, hands coming up to clutch at Severus’ sleeve. Severus looked down at the messy hair and squeezed the boy’s knee.

He couldn’t explain what he was doing or why, considering it was Potter. He couldn’t explain the stirring in his gut or the pang in his heart. He couldn’t explain how he was willingly comforting Potter after the year they’d had. He had hated Potter more than he ever thought possible that year, yet, sitting there with the boy, watching his tornado and listening to him cry, it was as though the year hadn’t happened. In that moment, he didn’t see Potter, son of his enemy and most hated student. Instead, he saw a boy left alone in his pain, so similar to himself. He saw all the ways Potter was different form Lily and James, saw the things that made him Harry, a completely separate person.

He didn’t see the hero destined to save them all. He saw the child that had been ignored and forgotten.

So, he sat there, and he watched and he waited. How long, he didn’t know. Eventually, though, Potter’s trembling calmed, his sobbing quieted, and his tornado came to an end. The books and quills clattered to the floor, and the rushing air finally settled. They were left in silence and darkness. Severus pulled his wand and waved it, conjuring a small orb that floated in front of them, emitting a soft blue light, just bright enough to see the room and Potter.

“I like your magic,” Potter mumbled and Severus glanced down at the top of the boy’s head.

“Is that so?” Severus said, feeling a kind of nod against his shoulder. “What does it feel like?”

“Sharp,” Potter said, “but in a good way.”

“And how is that?” Severus asked, intrigued by Potter’s new ability and satisfied that the boy seemed to be calming. He felt Potter shift slightly.

“Mm, I dunno. It’s hard to explain,” Potter said. “It makes me think of third year when you protected us from Lupin. You were furious and hurt, but you helped us. There’s a hardness, a sharpness, but, beneath that, it’s protective, it’s…warm.”

Severus was fascinated, but that wasn’t what Potter read in his silence.

“Sorry, I’m sure that sounds weird,” Potter said. “Just add it to the list of what makes me a freak.”

“You are no freak, Potter,” Severus said, hearing the familiarity with which Potter said the word. Clearly it was something he’d heard, thought, and said a lot. “On the contrary, your ability to feel magic is quite unique.”

“Maybe,” Potter said quietly. “Why did you come back?”

“I had a…feeling you could use company,” Severus said vaguely.

“Thought I was going to kill myself because I got Sirius’ will?” Potter said, sitting up so he was no longer laying on Severus’ shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to babysit.”

“Not to worry, Potter,” Severus said. “I was obviously correct.”

“I’m fine,” Potter said shortly.

“I think we can agree you are anything but fine,” Severus said.

“Right, I’m an idiotic suicide risk who’s out of control,” Potter said bitterly.

“I do not recall saying such things,” Severus said.

“Why else would you be here?” Potter said.

“Perhaps I am concerned,” Severus said.

“Which means I’m really useless if the person who hates me is the one expressing concern,” Potter said, letting his head fall back to lay on the bed, letting him stare at the ceiling.

Severus looked down at him again now he could see the boy’s face. He frowned at the injuries. “Was it your uncle?”

“Yeah, my magic threw all the doors and windows open,” Potter said. “Uncle Vernon wasn’t thrilled with the display.”

“I can heal you, if you would permit it,” Severus said and Potter frowned slightly.

“Why would you want to?” Potter asked. “You hate me. I appreciate the company, but I’m not sure I even understand why you’re here.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but let us agree our…relationship is…complicated,” Severus said honestly which seemed to surprise the Gryffindor.

“Yeah, guess it is,” Potter said after gazing at Severus curiously for several seconds. “You don’t have to heal me, though. This is nothing, really.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed at the implication. Rather than respond, he raised his wand and turned just enough to face Potter a little more. Potter sat up a little straighter and just waited, a slightly curious expression still on his face. Severus lightly ran his wand tip over the cut on the boy’s cheekbone and lip, and vanished the blood.

“Bruising will have to remain, I’m afraid,” Severus said. “I have no Bruise Paste available.”

Potter shrugged. “I’ve never had any help in general before, so I think I can handle a couple of bruises,” he said. “Thank you, Professor, really.”

“This treatment is common?” Severus asked, hating that he seemed to have missed an abused child due to his own personal biases and judgements.

Potter nodded.

“Have you ever told anyone?” Severus asked.

“No,” Potter said. “There was never anyone to tell and I learned pretty fast no one wants to help me anyway.”

“Potter…”

“Just forget about it,” Potter said dismissively. “I’m sorry about the, uh, tornado, by the way. I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I believe you need a core examination,” Severus said. 

“You mentioned it earlier,” Potter said with a nod. “Do you really think it’ll help?”

“Yes,” Severus said. “It will tell us what state your core is in which can then inform a treatment plan.”

“Am I dangerous?” Potter asked with a small frown.

“Your magic could become dangerous if left to spiral as it has been,” Severus said and he watched the boy chew his lip in thought. 

“Are you able to do it?” Potter asked.

Severus looked at him in surprise. “I am capable, yes.”

“Will you do it?” Potter rephrased. “It’s just, I don’t think anyone else is going to be willing considering you are the only one to mention it or even speak to me.”

Severus stared at the boy, tempted to tell him to find someone else. It had been a strange day and now evening with Potter, a mere twelve hours cracking his perceptions. There was little he could explain of his thoughts, feelings, and actions from the day, suddenly unmoored from his beliefs that had held fast for the last five years. Yet, there was a tiny, nearly indecipherable voice in the back if his mind telling him this changed path needed to be followed.

“If it is what you wish, then, yes, I will perform the examination,” Severus said.

Potter gave a small smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Lay on the bed,” Severus said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “It is a far easier process if you are comfortable.”

The both rose to their feet, Potter moving onto the bed and Severus grabbing the toppled desk chair. He watched as Potter moved Black’s letter and will, the boy’s face twisting with pained sadness briefly.

“He left me everything, including Grimmauld Place,” Potter said, placing the pages on the nightstand. “I don’t want it. Honestly, I’d like to burn it down.”

“I’m certain Black felt the same,” Severus said and was surprised to see a tiny half-smile tilt the Gryffindor’s lips.

“Yeah, he did,” Potter said. “He hated staying there, looked for any reason to leave, no matter how dangerous.”

Severus just waited, sensing the boy had more to say. He was surprised again when the Gryffindor turned his head on the pillow to look at Severus.

“I know you tried to make him stay, to not go to the Ministry,” Potter said. “Thank you for trying. At least someone tried to save him rather than just let him die like I did.”

“You are not to blame, Potter,” Severus said. “We all make mistakes.”

“Most don’t get people killed,” Potter said sadly.

“And some do,” Severus said easily and the glint in Potter’s eye told him the boy had realized he was talking about the prophecy.

“Right,” Potter muttered. “Why are you helping me? You hate me and we were awful to each other this year.”

“Even people I hate need help,” Severus said.

“You do a lot for people you don’t like and who don’t like you. Must be hard,” Potter said.

Severus didn’t know what to say so he said nothing, just waiting again.

Potter propped himself up on his elbows. “You said you know what it’s like. What did you mean?”

Severus gazed at the boy for a long while, considering what to say in such unfamiliar territory. “I know what it is like to lose someone dear to you, to feel you are alone.” He wasn’t sure he understood the expression that crossed the Gryffindor’s face.

There was another long silence as Potter continued to give him that curious look.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Potter finally said, pushing himself up to be sitting. “I’m sorry, for all of it. I know it probably doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but I’m sorry for what the Marauders did to you, what Sirius did, what my father did. I’m not stupid enough to think what I saw was a solitary event. I’m sorry about what my mum did too.”

“She did nothing wrong,” Severus said. “I called her that terrible name.”

“But you apologized and she didn’t do anything to stop the Marauders. Hell, she laughed,” Potter said and Severus was surprised at the disgust he saw in the boy’s face. “Friends don’t walk away the second something goes wrong. So, I’m sorry for them because they never can be, even if it doesn’t mean much.”

Severus found himself so stunned and puzzled that there was no room for the rage and indignation that normally would have risen up at the mere mention of his childhood tormentors and Potter’s violation of his memories. He could do little more than just stare at Potter, unsure how to respond.

“I’m sorry for me, too, for everything I’ve done,” Potter continued, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Turns out you were right all along. I am just like my father.”

“No, you’re not,” Severus found himself saying before he could even realize and Potter looked back at him. “Not in the ways that matter.”

There was that look again, the one Severus couldn’t identify. They stared at each other for a long while again, their words hanging uncertainly between them. Eventually, Severus cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

“Lie back now and remain still,” Severus said.

Potter nodded and did so, settling back down on the bed. Severus waited until the boy had relaxed, surprised at just how relaxed Potter seemed to be considering it was Severus with him. He pushed it aside and began the exam’s complicated spell work. As he did, he couldn’t help but glance at Potter as the boy stared at the ceiling. He found himself frowning slightly at the bruises caused by the Muggle and the dull, green eyes caused by loss and abandonment. That look he knew, bruises, dull eyes, and all, having often looked the same at Potter’s age. The dim, almost lifeless eyes had remained, getting more and more distant with every loss, every hurt, every moment of loneliness. He found himself hating the idea of Potter looking the same, of the light never returning to the green eyes that were usually so expressive. While the anger and defiance that had sparkled in Potter’s eyes in each and every one of their interactions had caused rage to burn in Severus, he didn’t want that to be replaced with this lost gaze. Sighing quietly as he became conflicted wondering what he could do to help Potter while also wondering why he cared, he finished the spell and watched a glittery sphere of colourful threads manifest over Potter’s body.

“Whoa, what is that?” Potter asked, staring at the ball hovering over him.

“This is a representation of your core,” Severus said, flicking his wand just slightly to make the sphere spin very slowly.

“What do all the colours mean?” Potter asked.

“Everyone’s core is different, with different colours and even a different appearance,” Severus said. “Yours being threads indicates a natural flow and connection to your magic, and it is adaptable. You can excel at all forms of magic.”

“Really?” Potter said, looking at his core in wonder.

“As for the colours, they each mean something different or are magic attached to you in some way,” Severus said and looked at the tangled colours. “You can see how all the threads are attached to your core, except for these red ones.”

“What does that mean?” Potter asked.

“It is someone else’s magic, someone who connected with you with so much magic, they left some behind,” Severus explained. “It explains your excess magic and power. All magic wants and needs to be used, but also tethered for control. This magic is floating freely and is coming out whenever it can.”

“Voldemort,” Potter said, his voice hard, “from the possession, it has to be.”

Severus nodded. “A likely explanation.”

“What about everything else?” Potter asked, sounding more despondent now.

“The purple is your newfound Mind Magic. Blue is Empathy Magic and explains your ability to feel magic. It is an exceptionally rare type of magic,” Severus said.

“Of course it is,” Potter muttered and Severus’ lips twitched with amusement.

“Gold is your regular magic though the black spots are indicative of Dark Magic use. If one were to use excessive Dark Magic, they would develop more black,” Severus explained, thinking of his own core.

“And the green?” Potter asked, gesturing to a tight, pulsing bundle of lime green threads.

“That I am unsure,” Severus said, frowning at the threads himself.

“So, is there anything wrong, aside from having Voldemort’s magic just hanging out?” Potter asked.

Severus moved his wand to spin the orb until the right spot was in view. He pointed to a spot under the threads. “Do you see this crack?”

Potter nodded.

“This is the cause of your lack of control,” Severus said. “Your core was cracked likely as a result of Bellatrix’s torture and the possession. It is essentially allowing power and magic to leak from your core, causing a lack of control.”

“Can it be fixed?” Potter asked.

“Regretfully, no,” Severus said, seeing distress in the Gryffindor’s face. “However, it is easily managed by simply training your magic and using it regularly or for magically taxing tasks to deal with the excess you are now producing.” He waved his wand and made the orb disappear, ending the exam and allowing Potter to sit up again.

“Well, that’s not going to happen. No one’s going to help me with any of this. It’ll freak everyone out, honestly,” Potter said with a huff. “So, what happens if I can’t deal with my magic?”

“Your magic could turn inwards and attack you or it could lash out and harm someone else,” Severus said, raising an eyebrow when Potter blew out a harsh breath and let his head fall back against the wall.

“So, I’m a ticking time bomb,” Potter said, “again. Freak, as always.”

Severus frowned, feeling a tug in his chest.

Potter sighed. “Thank you for helping, Professor. You can go now. It’s late and I promise I’m okay.”

Severus watched Potter grab his wand and wave it over himself with a quiet incantation, changing his clothes into pajamas, each in terrible condition and clearly far too large for the small boy. Severus stood as Potter laid back on the bed, returning the chair to the desk that he righted. Severus moved to the fireplace, intending on leaving, only to find something holding him back. He turned back around to look at Potter, the boy gazing up at the ceiling once again.

“Potter, in the interest of avoiding disaster, I would extend an offer of training,” Severus said, somewhat awkwardly. He watched the Gryffindor prop himself on his elbows again and look at Severus with a frown.

“Why?” Potter said, clearly confused.

“What good is a Chosen One if he’s dead or in Azkaban?” Severus sniped, unsettled by his offer and the entirety of the past fifteen hours with Potter. He felt the need to have at least one foot back in their regular relationship even if it was no longer genuine for some reason.

“Right,” Potter mumbled and his expression told Severus that the boy knew what he was trying to do. “I mean, if you really are willing, I’d appreciate it. Like I said, no one else is going to help me.”

“We begin tomorrow,” Severus said shortly, still unsettled by his offer and Potter’s acceptance, holding him to the offer. “Get some sleep, Potter.”

He stepped into the fireplace and disappeared before he could see or hear the boy’s response.

Harry grunted as he was slammed to the floor, and gasped for air through the hand around his throat and knee on his chest. His legs were kicking wildly and he was clawing at Vernon’s hand with both of his until Vernon pinned his left to the floor. His head was growing light, black spots were dotting his vision, and tears were burning the corners of his eyes. He could feel the magic rolling off him and could just make out the items floating high in the air behind his uncle. He knew the continuing display of magic was enraging Vernon more and he tried to pull the magic back, but, between his despair over Sirius, anger at himself, and fear of his uncle, he had no control.

He was growing weaker, his clawing and kicking slowing and his chest hitching as he fought desperately for oxygen. When he’d thought of all the ways he could die, this had not been on the list.

His vision was nearly black and everything fading away when air suddenly and somewhat painfully rushed into his lungs. Vernon was no longer on top of him and, as he heaved and coughed, he slowly became aware of a new voice in the room.

“Touch the boy again, and I will show you and your dear wife why she was right to be afraid of me when we were children. For the next two weeks, Harry Potter no longer exists to you no matter what you see, feel, or hear. Understood?”

There was shuffling and grunting, and then the sound a door slamming. Harry heard a click and felt familiar magic. Despite still taking harsh breaths and clearing his vision, he relaxed upon recognizing the magic. Things were strange between them, but he at least knew he was safe. A hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Calm breaths, Potter,” Snape said. “Draw it in and release it slowly.”

Harry did his best to listen, doing as Snape said. The slow, deep breaths were painful, his throat aching and his chest burning. He pushed through, and his breathing began to come easier and his vision began to clear. 

“You…you didn’t have to…stop him,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on the floor as he recovered. 

“Aside from the fact that you remain the beloved Chosen One,” Harry rolled his eyes, “if you are to die at the hands of another, I would much prefer it be me. A reward for putting up with you all these years.”

Harry snorted, wincing at the pain it caused in his throat. “I’ll do my best to survive Voldemort so you get your chance then.”

“Very courteous of you,” Snape said and Harry could hear the amusement. “Sit up now.”

Hands gripped Harry’s arm, helping him to turn over and sit up, leaning against the bed. Harry sat limply, strength slowly returning to him. It was unexpected, though not as unexpected after the previous day, when Snape reached out to grasp his chin, but Harry allowed it. His head was tilted up and from side to side as Snape examined the bruises that were likely already forming around his neck. He was released long enough for Snape to pull a jar from his robes, open it, and gather some of the white paste on his fingers. His face was grasped and tilted again, and the paste massaged gently into his neck.

“I really can’t leave you alone for even a night, can I?” Snape said, applying more paste.

“Technically, I’ve only been alone the last ten minutes,” Harry said. “Whoever was here for the night left then.”

“So, I can’t leave you alone for ten minutes?” Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

“Pretty sure you already knew that,” Harry said.

“That is not an invitation to prove it,” Snape said, letting Harry go and putting the jar away.

Harry chuckled, causing a dull ache in his throat and chest again that made him wince.

“What happened?” Snape asked.

“Nightmare,” Harry said. “Vernon hates them as much as he hates magic, which he saw plenty of when he came in here over the nightmare.”

“No need to concern yourself with your relatives any longer,” Snape said. “They will no longer bother you and you will leave here in two weeks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry said.

“I would prefer not to walk in on what I did today for the next two weeks,” Snape said.

Harry frowned slightly. “You’re not going to be here every day, are you?”

“Not every day, but most,” Snape said, moving to sit in the desk chair.

“How did you manage that when the guard is meant to rotate and with everything else you do?” Harry asked, pulling himself up onto the bed. “Not to mention the fact that you’re not supposed to be talking to me and you, you know, hate me with every inch of your being.”

“Don’t flatter yourself with such exaggerations, Potter,” Snape said. “You do not hold that much importance in my life.”

Harry had to hold back a smirk, though his lips still twitched. “Of course not.”

“And I gave plausible explanations in order to be here,” Snape said.

“In other words, you lied,” Harry said.

“It is what I do, Potter,” Snape said.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Harry said, lounging back on his elbows as Snape arched a brow again.

“Also what I do,” Snape said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Tell me what we’re doing.”

“Well, which is it, Potter? Shut up or speak?” Snape said, leaning his cheek on his fingers as he propped his elbow on the desk.

Harry scowled. “You don’t have to be an arse all the time, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be a brat, yet here we are,” Snape said.

Harry huffed, letting his head fall back for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the professor. “Fine. Can you please tell me what we’re doing?”

“We are doing nothing,” Snape said and Harry frowned. “You are going to exhaust your excess magic.”

“The hell does that mean?" Harry said. He watched Snape wave his wand and a pile of wooden blocks appeared on the floor. Harry looked between it and the professor, confused.

“Transfiguration takes a large amount of magic to achieve, particularly complex Transfiguration,” Snape said. “I want you to transfigure these blocks into anything you choose, adding more complex details with each block.”

Harry’s forehead crinkled. “But, I don’t have an incantation or anything.”

“You do not require one,” Snape said. “All you need is intent and focus.”

“So, I think about what I want and, what? Hope it happens?” Harry said.

“That is a good place to start,” Snape said and he gestured at the blocks, implying Harry get started. When Harry moved to grab his wand, Snape waved at him to stop. “Your wand will restrict you to your main magic. You need to use your excess magic and the Dark Lord’s remnants.”

Harry nodded and, focusing on the magic he could feel always swirling inside him, waved his hand through the air at the pile of blocks. One rose from the pile and floated towards him, hovering in the air before him. It was rectangular and slightly smaller than a standard brick. He stared at it, considering what he wanted to try.

“Why do you call him the Dark Lord when you’re not loyal to him?” Harry asked, still considering the wood as it slowly turned. He saw the look Snape sent him and felt the questioning in the man’s magic, telling him the professor was curious about his choice of casual inquiry. It wasn’t the type of question he would normally ask Snape, but, after yesterday and given the man was there again voluntarily, it felt like something had and was changing. He sent some magic at the block as he waited for a response, finally having an idea for Snape’s assigned task. Red and gold strings began to surround the block, and the wood shimmered, morphing.

“Force of habit, but it also helps remain in the required mindset,” Snape eventually said.

“Makes sense,” Harry said, scrunching up his face slightly as he stared at the transforming wood. “Does it bother you to call him that?”

“Sometimes,” Snape said. “Often it is nothing more than a title, given I do not stand by it.”

Harry nodded and pulled his magic back slightly to see the shaped block. “Does this look like a snake?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, but looked at Harry’s creation. “Abstractly.”

“So, no,” Harry said, sending the ruined piece of wood at Snape who caught it easily.

“Try again,” Snape said. “Keep using that magic.”

Harry levitated another block and started over, red and gold surrounding it again. “What was it like to get Marked?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and Harry felt his magic sharpen defensively, a dull pain lying underneath. “I do not recall inviting such personal questions. Did you not violate my privacy enough this year?”

Harry winced. “Sorry,” he said quietly, gazing hard at the block he was still shaping.

The silence between them became tense and uncomfortable, making Harry regret the question and everything that had happened between them that year. He wasn’t sure why. He’d certainly never given a damn about being awful to Snape before, but he felt he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen in that Pensieve, or the fact that Snape had been the only one to talk to him and help him that summer. He glanced at Snape, still feeling the hurt in the man’s magic, making Harry frown at his attempt at carving a snake from the wooden block.

“I am sorry about that,” Harry said, pulling Snape’s hard, dark eyes to him. “I had a reason for going in your Pensieve, but it’s not a good enough one to excuse me actually doing it and seeing what I saw. I know you won’t believe me, but I honestly didn’t intend to hurt you or anything like that.”

“I’m sure you had your fun with what you saw,” Snape said stiffly, tapping his fingers on the desk near Harry’s first attempt at his snake sculpture.

“I didn’t, actually. I did talk to Sirius and Lupin about it, but not for the reason you think,” Harry said. “You’ve seen what my relatives are like. What the Marauders did reminded me of the Dursleys and I needed to know why they did it, I needed them to have a good reason.”

Harry paused, still frowning as he carved the wood more and more. He remembered his disgust and outrage at the memory, and then at Sirius’ and Lupin’s response.

“They didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, I’m sure. I know I was stupid to think there might have been one after what I saw, but I hoped,” Harry said. “They tried to blame it on you, on Houses, on their age, anything to avoid admitting the truth. They’d convinced themselves that it was just the stupid pranks of teenagers.”

Harry shook his head, upset as he remembered that last conversation. He didn’t realize he was powering his magic until what was supposed to be a snake exploded into splinters. He sighed as he watched the splinters form a small pile on the floor.

“I know that’s not what it was and, like I said yesterday, I know it wasn’t just that one time,” Harry said. “I fought with them about it. It was the last time I spoke to Sirius before the Ministry.”

He looked up at Snape when he felt confusion and surprise bleed into the man’s magic to find Snape looking at him with the same emotions. Harry sighed again.

“I don’t like bullies and that’s what they were. They might not have ever admitted to it themselves, but that’s what they were,” Harry said, his forehead wrinkling as he looked down at his pile of splinters again with an ache in his heart, “right up to the end.”

The silence that washed over them now was heavy; it felt like they could drown in it if they let themselves. Something was hovering between them, uncertain and unidentified. Whatever it was felt like it could change everything they’d known for the past five years.

“Continue transfiguring, Potter.”

Harry looked up and found a wooden block floating in front of him, catching it was it fell into his hands. As he turned the block over in his hands, Harry felt Snape’s magic turn almost fuzzy and he couldn’t pick out any single emotion anymore. realizing the professor was likely done with the conversation, Harry turned his attention—most of it, at least—to the block he held. They were mostly quiet for the next couple of hours as Harry worked with his magic, only speaking when Harry asked how his wooden snake was looking. He knew what he wanted to create and it was definitely complicated enough to keep his excess magic busy.

By the end of the three hours, Harry had managed to carve a snake from the wood though it was still lacking a ton of detail and the other features he had in mind. He levitated the day’s final product over to Snape who looked up from the random school text he’d begun to read. The man took the wooden reptile from the air and examined Harry’s work.

“What is it you are trying to do?” Snape asked and Harry was surprised at the curiosity he heard in the man’s voice.

Harry sent his magic across the room and wrapped it around the snake, gently pulling it from Snape’s grasp and back to his own. “If I manage to do it, I’ll let you know.”

Snape inclined his head. “How does your magic feel?”

Harry focused for a moment. “More settled. It kind of feels like the loose magic, Voldemort’s magic, is mixed with mine, so I feel more powerful and a bit more control.”

“As you learn control, you will be able to keep the Dark Lord’s magic mixed with yours for constant use,” Snape said. “Eventually, it should only leave your control in extreme circumstances.”

“What about my other…issues?” Harry asked.

“We will work on them as well,” Snape said. “However, to deal with your new Mind Magic, we would have to resume Occlumency as well as add in Legilimency.”

“Would you want to do that again, considering? “Harry said.

“We could endeavour to proceed differently than we did,” Snape said.

“I promise to actually try,” Harry said.

“And I promise not to use the lessons as a way to torment you,” Snape said, surprising Harry with the blunt admission. “I’ll save detentions for that.”

Harry snorted, glad for the reprieve in the heavy atmosphere. “Who says I’ll get any with you?”

The look he got was so exasperated and pointed that Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I know, I’m a hopeless menace,” Harry said. “I’ll be in detention by the end of the first week.”

“Perhaps you’ll even set a new record and get one the first day,” Snape said, amusement replacing most of the other emotions that had had Snape’s magic buzzing for the last couple hours.

“Didn’t I do that in second year with Ron and the flying car over London?” Harry said, grinning at the withering glare he got.

“You are a walking headache,” Snape grumbled and Harry snickered again. “It is time for me to go. The next member will be here shortly. Continue working with your magic, but if you begin to feel tired, lightheaded, or kill, stop. They are signs of magical depletion.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Thursday evening,” Snape said. “I am willing to arouse only so much suspicion.”

Harry nodded, watching the man walk over to the fireplace. “Thank you for helping.”

Snape inclined his head before disappearing into the green flames.

 He watched as his Death Eaters appeared one by one, bowing before him in greeting before taking their place in the forming circle. He smirked with satisfaction as Lucius Malfoy, no longer his prime and proper self, bowed low and then took his place. The once magnificent flowing white blonde hair was now dirty and lanky as it hung in greasy chunks around his splotchy gaunt face. This was no longer the powerful Lucius Malfoy. He had failed one too many times and finally experienced the consequences that came with such failures. He sneered as Lucius trembled where he stood, head down and fingers spasming around the head of his cane.

He turned from Lucius as his favourite arrived. He smiled approvingly at the top of Severus’ head and as the man took his place next to Lucius. Such contrast between the two; there always had been. Once Lucius had been his greatest success and Severus his greatest doubt. Now, however, they had switched Lucius was his greatest failure and Severus his greatest success. Yet, Lucius would have one more chance to prove himself or, rather, his son would have a chance to prove the worth of the Malfoy line to his cause.

Finally, the last arrived and he rose from his throne-like chair.

“I would say you are all a welcome sight, but, after the failure at the Ministry, it would be a lie,” he said, glaring at Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov, the only ones to make it out of the Ministry and escape Azkaban. “A reminder of your failures.”

He cast a quick Cruciatus on each of them, reveling in their pain.

“You may have lost me the prophecy and forced me to reveal myself, but it was not a complete loss,” he said. “My connection to the boy is stronger after our joining, I can feel it. I also believe we have left him quite broken, correct, Severus?”

“Yes, my lord. He has lost confidence in Dumbledore and the Order, has lost control of his magic, and seems to be suicidal,” Severus said and he grinned with glee.

“Excellent news,” he said. “A far weaker enemy. All I require is the access. Lucius.”

“Yes, my lord?” Lucius said, his voice small and shaky.

He sneered at the pitiful display. “You have failed me for the last time, but your son can restore your family glory. Is he going to be ready?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said. “He is anxious to prove himself and fight for your cause.”

He hummed, pleased. “Let us hope young Draco is more than his father. Three weeks.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said, bowing slightly.

He had high hopes for Draco. He turned to Severus.

“Severus, what news of the boy’s location?” he asked.

“Dumbledore plans to remove him from the Muggles’ on his birthday. The Order will be bringing him to the Burrow, the Weasley residence,” Severus said.

“Method of transport?” he asked.

“I do not know, my lord. I am not involved in moving the brat,” Severus said.

“Is that so?” he said, unimpressed. “Crucio.”

He watched Severus’ face tighten and his hands clench into fists, the only response to his torture aside from the small, uncontrollable tremours as the curse ravaged the nerves. He held it for a few more seconds before releasing his spy.

“I am disappointed you are not involved in the operation, but I understand,” he said. “You will not be involved in the Burrow attack either. We cannot have Dumbledore discover you just yet. We must have Hogwarts first. Now, what protections are around the blood traitors’ hovel?”

“The very basics. They are quite weak wizards, as you know. The Muggle-loving patriarch is always there when not at the Ministry. He will be there to receive Potter from the Order,” Severus said. “There will be six Order members moving Potter.”

“Easy enough to deal with,” he said. “We will, hopefully, have a guest in two weeks.”

Murmurs ran through the Death Eaters, anticipation of having Potter in reach rising. The fun they would have with the boy before he finally met his death would be invigorating.

“Well done, my dear spy,” he said before flicking his wand and holding another Cruciatus over the Potions Master. He released it after a few seconds. “A taste of what awaits you if this information is ultimately useless.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Dismissed. Except you, Lucius,” he said. “Bring me Draco. It is time he knows what awaits him in just three weeks.”

“My lord.”

He returned to his seat as the Death Eaters disappeared until Lucius was the only one left. He breathed deeply with satisfaction as Lucius left to get his son, pleased with how things were progressing.

Harry sat on his bed, staring at his Charms text as he pretended he didn't feel the Floo or the new magic in the room. He knew it was Snape-the only person's magic he could actually identify-and waited anxiously for the other magic to leave. It took a few minutes, likely due to the other Order member passing on their report of how Harry had been all day. He wanted to roll his eyes, knowing they were talking about him while he was literal meters from them and the other Order member convinced he had no idea they were there. Funny they were all relying on him to save them, but thought he was too stupid to realize he was being watched twenty-four seven.

When he felt the Floo activate and the other magic disappear, he peered over the top of his book at where he could feel the bundle that was Snape's magic. He was becoming fascinated with his new ability to feel magic. It was all just so different. Snape's was intriguing, a tight bundle of sharp, but protective and warm power. He really wanted to know more about magical theory. He was curious what everything he felt meant. He lowered his book as Snape's magic spun around and the man became visible.

"Potter," Snape said, inclining his head and moving to sit at the desk as had become his norm.

Harry didn't take any time to consider that he had routine and normal with Snape, more focused on finally addressing his nightmare from four days earlier. He tossed his Charms book aside and scooted to the edge of the bed.

"You told Voldemort I'm going to the Burrow," Harry said and Snape looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"First, yes, I did," Snape said. "Second, you are still having visions?"

"Not while I'm awake, just nightmares," Harry said almost absently. "Why would you tell him I'm going to the Burrow and that there's weak protections? They're going to attack the Burrow!"

Snape stared at him for a long while before leaning casually against the desk, propping one elbow on top and clasping his hands. "Potter, what is my job?"

Harry's face screwed up in confusion. "Uh, a Potions professor."

Snape huffed and rolled his eyes before glaring at Harry. "I know you are not actually this stupid. My other job."

"Oh, right," Harry said, flushing lightly. "You're a spy for the Order."

"Correct, and what do you think such a job entails?" Snape asked.

"Telling Dumbledore what Voldemort's planning? "Harry said, still confused what Snape was getting at, but going along.

"That is one aspect, yes, but I must also tell the Dark Lord of the Order's plans in order to convince the Dark Lord I am on his side. That trust ensure I can feed appropriate information back and forth, and much of that information has to be true to protect my position," Snape explained. "Lies can easily be discovered while truth cannot be questioned."

Harry's eyes flicked to the floor as he mulled over the professor's words.

"Yes, the Dark Lord will send Death Eaters to attack the Burrow due to my information," Snape said. "However, never think such plans are made without thorough consideration and the headmaster's approval."

Harry sighed and nodded, feeling foolish that he'd believed Snape would pass information that would deliberately harm anyone. "The Weasleys won't be there then?"

"Some will be," Snape said. "As I told the Dark Lord, there will be a team of Order members. They hope to capture some Death Eaters."

Harry nodded again, understanding now, even if he wasn't thrilled with the whole plan. He glanced down at his hands, picking at a chipped nail. "I'm going to Grimmauld Place, aren't I?"

"Yes."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What's going on with Malfoy?" he asked.

"I do not know those specifics," Snape said. "I only know he is to be Marked."

Harry's eyes flew to the professor. "But...he's only sixteen!"

Snape raised an eyebrow again. "While certainly not the typical age, Draco Malfoy is a legacy, not a recruit, and so his age matters little, only at what point he can prove useful."

Harry's forehead crinkled. "Does that mean all the Death Eaters' kids will be Marked?"

"Likely in the next year or so," Snape said, nodding.

Harry frowned, unsure how he felt about such a revelation.

"Come on, Potter, let's get started," Snape said.

Harry sighed again. "What are we doing today? I don't have to keep transfiguring wood into stuff, do I?" As much as he wanted to succeed at his little project, he was also quite sick of shaping wooden blocks into something that resembled a snake.

Snape gave a small smirk. "No, not today. Today, we are going to work with your new Empathy Magic."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Why? Can't I just feel people's magic and emotions through their magic? Honestly doesn't seem like overly helpful magic."

"On the contrary," Snape said lightly. "Not only does it give you the ability to know when someone is nearby even if you cannot see them, it also allows you to detect if someone means you harm. Additionally, and the most important aspect, you can identify spells through their intent. A skill called ‘Spell Reading'."

"Really?" Harry said, interested.

Snape nodded. "Once you are at Grimmauld Place, we will be able to work on identifying people by their magic. We will do what we can with location, intent, and, of course, Spell Reading."

"Wait, you're going to keep training me at Grimmauld Place?" Harry said, surprised.

"I can have another Order member take over, if you prefer," Snape said and Harry thought he felt a strange undercurrent ripple in the man's magic. "Perhaps Kingsley or the wolf."

"No! No, that's not what I meant," Harry said. "I just figured you'd want a break from me once you're not the only one I can talk to anymore. I doubt you've enjoyed the last couple weeks."

Snape gave an oddly casual shrug. "I am not averse to continuing your training. It is necessary for you to learn."

Harry looked at him almost in wonder. "I'd like to continue training with you. You are surprisingly a much better teacher with this than with Potions," he said with a grin.

Snape glared at him. "You are also hopeless and a menace in class."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe, but it is not just me and you know it."

Snape just shook his head. "Let's go, brat, we're going to that park."

Still grinning, Harry hopped off the bed and led the way from the room. Ever since the day Snape had walked in on Vernon strangling him, his relatives had completely ignored him. He hadn't had to do a single chore, was allowed to make himself meals, and no insults or threats had been hurled at him. It was truly like he didn't exist to them and it was wonderful, giving him a reprieve from their abuse for the first summer in his life.

As they walked to the park, Harry found himself marveling, once again, at the changes with Snape. It had only been a week and a half since he talked to Snape that first day, but it felt like much longer given how much they seemed to have changed. Somehow, amongst his overwhelming grief and guilt, Snape had stepped in, despite their volatile relationship, and pulled him just a few steps back from the ledge he'd been teetering on. The ledge was still there-he got closer to it every time Snape left and he was alone-but, astonishingly, Snape was the one keeping him from going over. He had no explanation for how or why, but, for now, he was willing to just accept it, for the moment having someone and something he felt connected to. He would question it all and it being Snape of all people once they were at Hogwarts and back to normal.

They arrived at the park, it and the street as empty as always, and Harry was pushed onto the bench. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at Snape expectantly.

"Get as comfortable as possible and close your eyes," Snape said.

"Why?"

"You are going to practice locating me solely by my magic," Snape said.

Harry nodded and did as he was told. He slouched on the bench slightly and let his hands sit loosely in his lap. He took a deep, calming breath and let his eyes close.

"Pull your wand," Snape said and Harry did so. "I am going to move around the area. You are to find me using my magic, just as you did when you knew I was in the corner of your room. When you believe you know where I am, send sparks in that direction. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"First, do you feel my magic now in front of you?" Snape asked.

Harry narrowed his focus, almost immediately feeling the sharp, warm magic rustling the air in front of him. He just nodded his answer.

"Good," Snape said. "We are beginning. Give me a minute to get in place."

Harry nodded again, keeping himself calm and comfortable and focused. As Snape moved away, so too did his magic, pulled from Harry's field of sense. He frowned slightly, but forced himself to stay focused. He reached out with his conscious, searching for the charged air that made his skin tingle warmly. He didn't know how or what he was doing, but he figured he must be using his Empathy Magic even though it didn't seem to flow through him in the same way as his other magic.

He kept searching until he found the ball of magic he was becoming so accustomed to. He couldn't help but notice how like Snape his magic was. It was tight and sharp, much like the man's outer personality, and pulsed with the power contained within. Yet, under the sharpness was a gentle warmth, the parts of the man kept hidden, parts Harry knew he'd seen a peek of several times over the years each time the man protected him. He waved his wand, sending sparks to where he knew the magic was and felt it flutter with what he thought was approval. The magic moved out of his field again and the search restarted.

They continued in the same manner for another hour. Harry was able to find Snape quicker and quicker by the end. They were able to determine that the limit of Harry's location identification was about thirty meters, but Snape assured him, with practice, he could likely increase that distance

 By the end, Snape's magic was buzzing with approval and impression. Feeling such things from Snape made him want to smile, having never really felt such things from anyone before.

"Take a break, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes at the statement and the body sitting next to him on the bench. He blinked at the minor sunlight, having been in the dark for an hour. Harry glanced at the professor, finding him to be casually looking around at the empty neighbourhood. Harry turned to stare at the swings, absently drumming his wand on his leg. He wasn't sure he'd ever had such a comfortable, yet confusing silence.

As was common those days, his thoughts drifted to Sirius and he frowned, his semblance of peace breaking. He gazed at the bush in which he'd seen his godfather for the first time, heart aching.

"He called me James," Harry said, unsure if he really meant to speak aloud, but continuing anyway, "right before he died. It wasn't the first time, but it was the last thing he said. I know he loved me, but I don't know how much he actually saw me."

It was quiet for a while.

"He may never have admitted it or realized, but he was traumatized, emotionally stunted," Snape said. "He never had a chance to properly grieve or grow."

"Are you defending Sirius Black?" Harry said, looking at Snape with a small, amused grin.

"A temporary lapse of judgement," Snape said. "It will pass."

Harry gave a small laugh, though his amusement faded quickly as Sirius continued to occupy his thoughts. "He's not the only one that saw my parents more than me. Honestly, I seem to just be their replacement for most people."

Another pause filled the space between them.

"I apologize, Potter."

Harry swung his eyes to the professor in shock. "Wha...for what?"

"I believe I fall into the category of ones who saw and used you as a replacement," Snape said, still staring out at the park. "As it turns out, you are remarkably unique to them despite the similarities."

Harry couldn't help but gape, completely taken aback by the unexpected apology and admission.

"Given all I have seen and all that has happened, it would seem I have failed at the one thing I promised your mother," Snape said, his voice sounding far away now. "I have failed to keep you safe."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you kidding? You're the reason I'm even still alive. Every year, something or someone has wanted me dead and I've been stupid enough to give them the opportunity every time, but you've been there to stop whatever tries to kill me, including myself. Quirrell and the broom, the potion I needed after the Basilisk because Fawkes didn't actually heal everything and no one thought I knew about it, Lupin, everything you did during the tournament including try to get me out of it, everything you did to stop Umbridge, sending the Order to the Ministry..." he trailed off as he came to the end of his painful school career. "Professor, I may have been nothing more than a copy of James to you, but you are the only thing I've ever been able to rely on in nearly fifteen years. You've been...stable, even if it was stable in how much you hated me, but it was something. I've always known what to expect with you. You hate me, but you will never hurt me, and there will always be someone to protect me, even from myself. Somehow, you have always been what I've needed. I just never knew or realized before now. Maybe I didn't want to until now."

He turned to look at Snape again, feeling his magic almost vibrate strangely, and found the man looking at him, something odd glinting in his dark eyes.

"As I said, Mr. Potter, remarkably unique," Snape said, voice low.

Harry's lips tilted into a half-smile. "You're turning out to be quite the surprise yourself, sir."

"Turmoil incites change, it would seem" Snape said.

"The best kind," Harry said, receiving a questioning look. "It's usually the kind of change that actually means something."

Snape hummed, still looking at him curiously, before clearing the expression and standing. Harry watched. "I have another hour before I must leave, so we will do some more training."

Harry nodded, waiting for the instructions.

"You are going to learn to identify intent which will eventually lead into Spell Reading," Snape said. "You will, again, close your eyes and I will produce various magical intentions. You will tell me what my intentions are."

"Wait, you can do that without actually casting anything?" Harry said.

Snape nodded. "Emotional intent is the basis of most magic. All I have to do is channel that intent and expel magic."

"Wicked," Harry muttered, gaining a raised eyebrow and partial smirk from the professor, though he was reminded of Bellatrix. He remembered trying to use the Cruciatus on her only for it to do nothing. She'd told him he had to mean it, had to want it to make such magic work.

"Get comfortable again, close your eyes, and focus," Snape instructed and Harry quickly obeyed.

He settled back on the bench and brought his subconscious to awareness, quickly finding the feel of Snape's magic again. He breathed slowly and deeply, allowing the feel of Snape's magic to drift over and around him. Once he was ready, he expected Snape to give more instruction, but he didn't, leaving them in a continuing silence. He was about to ask if something was wrong when Snape's magic began to change.

Eyes still closed, Harry cocked his head to the side, intrigued by the changing magic. While the sharpness remained an undercurrent, there was an almost liquid quality to the magic now, as though it were a swirling whirlpool. He felt his forehead wrinkle as he frowned in thought, trying to figure out what the feeling could be indicating about the type of magic.

"Uh, well, it's definitely not something that will hurt me," Harry said, thinking out loud. "It feels, I don't know, clean? Um, is it like Healing Magic?"

"Very good, Potter, "Snape said and Harry smiled at the rare praise. "Again."

Snape's magic returned to normal for a few moments before changing again. The difference was stark and Harry felt it immediately. It was as though Snape's sharpness had increased, becoming more like blades just waiting to slice him to pieces. He felt himself flinch away.

"Some kind of painful magic," Harry said. "Dark Magic, I assume."

"Correct," Snape said and Harry was relieved when the harsh feelings in Snape's magic stopped. It was like he could breathe fully again. "You will learn specific types within the broader areas as well."

Harry nodded in understanding.

Just like with locating Snape, they continued this part of his training in the same way for the remaining forty-five minutes. Snape produced various types of magic and Harry attempted to identify them. He mostly succeeded until Snape started to go more specific, such as non-harmful offensive magic. Harry could tell it was offensive magic, but not that it was non-harmful specifically. Eventually, they had to end the session as it was growing dark and Snape had to leave, so they headed back to the Dursleys'.

"Why can I feel your emotions in your magic sometimes?" Harry asked as they walked.

"As I said and you have experienced, our magic is closely connected to our emotions," Snape said. "However, I believe a part of it for you is also your untrained Mind Magic. You're constantly and unconsciously trying to connect with my mind and, given we have such a connection already, you are able to pick up on any emotions I have at the forefront."

"So, once I learn Occlumency, I shouldn't feel your emotions anymore?" Harry asked.

"Not as frequently or intensely," Snape said, opening the door to Number Four. "You will still feel some given your Empathy Magic and opened Mind Magic from your possession."

Harry shivered slightly at the reminder. He swore he could still feel Voldemort in him sometimes as though the possession had never fully ended. He led the way upstairs and into his room where he flopped onto the bed as Snape headed to the fireplace.

"I will return in three days," Snape said. "I want you to try and identify any of the other Order members that will be here by their magic."

Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows to look at the professor incredulously. "Are you giving me homework?"

"Perhaps it is homework you will actually complete," Snape said, sending a pointed look at the books and parchments littering the desk.

Harry scowled half-heartedly, hating that the man was right though he'd never admit it. "You're a bastard."

"And you're a brat," Snape quipped back. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

Harry had to fight to keep the scowl on his face as the professor disappeared through the Floo.

Harry sighed as he opened Hedwig's cage, allowing her to step out onto the desk. He gently stroked her soft feathers and let her nip at his finger lightly. He gazed lovingly at her, saddened by his decision despite knowing it was for the best. He took a treat from the bag he had yet to pack and gave it to her.

"I want you to go to Hogwarts, alright?" Harry said, still petting her. "You'll be safe there."

She hooted quietly and tilted her head at him. She almost looked sad and it made tears burn his eyes. He hated the idea of sending her away, but he knew he had to, otherwise she'd be stuck in her cage in Grimmauld Place for the next month.

"I'll be okay," Harry said, choosing to ignore how hard he'd fallen back into his suffocating grief the last few days.

With his birthday approaching, he'd been plagued with the knowledge that he would be going to Grimmauld Place which had made him think of Sirius more and more. On top of that, Snape had been busy and unable to take a guard shift for several days, leaving Harry alone and the ledge Snape somehow kept him from now lay immediately before his feet again.

Sighing again, he opened the window, briefly gazing out into the dark. After a few seconds, he turned back to Hedwig. "Please, girl, for me?" he said. "I need you safe and that's at Hogwarts."

She hooted at him again, nuzzling into his hand. His eyes stung at her worry.

"I'll be fine. I won't be alone," Harry said, pushing down his nerves, unsure what it was going to be like at Grimmauld Place. "I'll be at Hogwarts in a month."

Hedwig hopped up onto the window sill. Harry smiled at her, stroking her one last time. She nipped his finger, hooted, and then took off through the window. Harry watched her, silhouetted against the half-moon. He fought back his tears, sad to send his beloved familiar away and terrified she wouldn't make it to Hogwarts.

Once he could no longer see her, he swiped at the single tear that was hovering just on the edge of his eye. He waved his wand at Hedwig's cage and, muttering the incantation, shrunk it down to fit in his trunk. As he put her cage inside, his eyes spotted the mirror fragment as the lamp light glinted off it where it was tucked down the side of his trunk.

He froze, eyes locked on the shard and fingers tightening on the edge of his trunk. Cold washed over him and he felt himself begin to shake, his eyes burning and his heart pounding. In the bit of mirror he could see, he watched Sirius fall again and again, face frozen on the shocked laughter. He slammed his eyes shut, hoping to block the image, only to have the memory play on the back of his eyelids. Beneath the cold, it felt like a fire was blazing in his chest, burning at his insides while his skin felt like ice. The air around him began to feel like waves, washing over and crashing away from him, leaving behind a charge.

He couldn't stop watching the green light hit Sirius and the veil take him away. He couldn't look away from the frozen face, couldn't change it to anything else. He couldn't remember Sirius in any other way, couldn't remember any of the joy or mischief or love he knew once lit the grey eyes. He was trapped, stuck watching the result of his sheer stupidity.

"Whoa! What is going on?"

The voice broke into his haze of despair and his eyes opened. Every piece of furniture in the room was levitating, and the light and lamp were flickering almost violently. The air had a shimmer to it from the amount of magic and power flooding from him. He could just barely feel the bouncy magic in the room with him, tinged with concern. He didn't know who the magic belonged to and looked over at the fireplace, finding Tonks gazing around with wide eyes.

Harry shut his eyes again, knowing he needed to get control. They hadn't restarted Occlumency yet and he'd failed at it miserably, but he tried to remember what Snape had told him about being calm, in control, and clearing the mind.

Despite it being one of the places he hated most, he pictured the cupboard under the stairs and closed the door on Sirius falling through the veil. He could tell it wouldn't hold, the cupboard door falling off its hinges, but it would do for now. No longer trapped in the Ministry, Harry was able to focus on his magic and pulled it back, finally stopping the waves of power. The furniture crashed back to the floor, toppling over, cracking, and splintering. It was uncomfortable, forcing the magic back inside, likely due to how charged it was. It was desperate to escape him, but was being kept down.

Rolling his head with the aches now emanating through his body, he slammed his trunk shut and turned to Tonks. "Sorry about that," he said. "Just got a bit upset."

Tonks didn't seem convinced as she looked at the desk chair, two of its legs broken off and a crack in the center of the seat. She gave him a look full of uncertainty.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly. "I've got it under control." A complete lie, especially without Snape's training.

"Right," Tonks said slowly. "Well, you ready to get out of here?"

To Grimmauld Place? Not bloody likely, Harry thought bitterly even as he bent to pick up his trunk. He waved his wand over it, muttering a Shrinking Spell.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said dully.

"Well, just step on in," Tonks said, seeming to be put off by his lack of excitement. "This fireplace is only connected to headquarters, so it'll take you there automatically."

Harry fought against rolling his eyes at the explanation, reminding himself that only Snape knew that he knew anything. The rest of them were too stupid or willfully ignorant, thinking Harry hadn't known anything about the guard. So, Harry just gave a single nod and stepped into the fireplace, instantly pulled to Grimmauld Place. He caught himself on the nearby sofa as he stumbled into the dark sitting room.

"Harry, dear."

Harry looked up and found Mrs. Weasley walking towards him, her wand lit. She gave him a sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug. He grimaced over her shoulder at her pity, but wiped the emotion as she released him.

"You head up to bed, dear," she said. "You are in Ron's room."

Harry nodded and began to leave the sitting room. When he heard the Floo flare, he turned and found Tonks and Mrs. Weasley talking quietly.

"Who's at the Burrow?" he asked and the two women looked at him.

"Don't you worry about that," Mrs. Weasley said placatingly and Harry frowned. "Up to bed now."

Annoyed, Harry left the sitting room and headed upstairs. He studiously ignored the room he knew was Sirius' as he passed, heading to the room he'd shared with Ron the previous summer. He pushed the door open and was surprised to find Ron sitting up in his bed, flipping through a Quidditch magazine by the light of a lamp.

"Hey," Harry said quietly.

Ron gave him a hard stare that bordered on a glare. He tossed his magazine on the bedside table, flicked off the lamp, and threw himself down on his bed. He turned on his side so his back was to Harry and pulled his blanket up to his shoulder aggressively, leaving Harry confused at his friend's reaction.

Sighing, Harry took his trunk out of his pocket and returned it to its proper size, pushing it to sit on the floor at the foot of his bed. He changed into his pajamas, grabbed his last attempt at his snake carving, and climbed into bed. He stared up at the ceiling through the dark, turning his snake over in his hands absently, subtly bleeding the restless magic he could feel into the piece of wood. As he settled his excess magic and rolled the wooden snake almost hypnotically, he began to relax.

He was beginning to drift off into what he thought could have been his first peaceful sleep in months when he was startled awake by commotion downstairs. He and Ron flew up in their beds at the same time and dashed downstairs. There was a crowd in the foyer now, all chattering and moving frantically while trying to remain quiet. Bill was being supported by Mr. Weasley who was bleeding from his forehead while talking to Mrs. Weasley. Tonks was fluttering around Lupin while Moody was aggressively examining Charlie. No one seemed to be seriously injured, Bill seeming to be the worst, but it didn't stop Harry's stomach from twisting painfully.

"Bill! Bloody hell!" Ron shouted, shoving past Harry to run to his family.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley said. "You are supposed to be in bed."

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"Exactly what we had planned, boy, now go to bed," Moody said gruffly.

"Everyone is alright, dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Obviously not!" Ron exclaimed, pointing to Bill who was growing paler and limper as blood soaked into his clothes.

"That is enough," Mr. Weasley said firmly. "Go to bed, boys. We will talk about this tomorrow."

He dragged Bill into the sitting room, Fleur and Mrs. Weasley following, while the others split up to the kitchen or study. Harry was taken aback at the glare Ron gave him when the redhead turned and pushed past him on the stairs. Frowning, Harry followed Ron back to their room.

"This is all your fault!" Ron shouted as soon as Harry was in the room.

Harry blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"My family and home were attacked because of you!" Ron yelled.

Anger began to rise in Harry.

"I didn't make this plan," Harry sad. "I had nothing to do with this."

"It's all always about you!" Ron yelled. "Protecting you! Helping you! Following you! Saving you! Who cares who gets hurt as long as you're protected!"

Harry glared. "I never asked for any of that!"

"Must be nice to have the world do anything for you!" Ron yelled. "Do you even know how many people have gotten hurt because of you? How many have died? Not like you need to care since if one dies, ten more will be waiting in line."

Harry stiffened, balling his hands into fists, knowing where Ron was going. Ron stepped close so they were nearly nose to nose.

"You might not care if you kill your family, but you don't get to kill mine," Ron said lowly and angrily.

His anger spiked and his magic lashed out. Harry shoved Ron's chest and the redhead was thrown across the room, landing on his bed. Ron stared at him with wide eyes, flinching when the lightbulb in the lamp exploded.

"What is wrong with you?" Ron demanded. "Get away from me, freak!"

A crack appeared in the room's window and the air began to crackle with Harry's unstable, rushing magic.

"With pleasure," Harry ground out.

He stormed over to grab his trunk and stomped from the room, flinging the door open. He stepped into the corridor just as Mrs. Weasley came from downstairs and Hermione, Ginny, and the twins left their rooms.

"What is going on up here?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. She looked at Harry with a frown, obviously feeling the magic still rolling off him. "Harry, dear, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly. "Ron's the one with the problem."

He walked around Mrs. Weasley and headed for Sirius' room. He walked in, slamming the door behind him. He heard voices begin to rise in the corridor and another wave of magic washed over the room. A click indicated the door locking and the lack of voices told him he'd silenced the room. He gazed around the room, his chest tightening with every detail he picked out that made him picture Sirius' smiling, laughing face only for it to be consumed by green light and a flowing veil.

He threw his trunk away from him, letting it thud heavily in the center of the floor. He moved to the bed just to the right of the door and sat on the floor, back against the bed. He bent his knees, draped his arms over them, and continued looking around, letting despair fill him and magic seep out of him, turning the air electric. He looked at the bedside table, and his heart clenched when he spotted a photo of teenage Marauders and the mirror. He stared at them for a long while before shutting his eyes just as tears began to pour down his cheeks. He buried his face in his knees and sobbed.

"Potter?"

The call of his name and knock on the door pulled Harry from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. He blinked, eyes sore from tiredness and crying, and lifted his head. He cringed at the pain in his neck, back, and buttocks from sleeping sitting on the floor against the bed. He rubbed his neck, rolling his head and wincing at the pops.

"Potter, if you are alive, open this door."

Harry rolled his eyes and waved his wand at the door, muttering, "Alohomora." There was a click and he looked over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He watched Snape walk to the foot of the bed and stare down at him. "Couldn't open it yourself?"

"It is called privacy, Potter, though I forgive you for not knowing the term," Snape said and Harry turned away, facing forward again.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "What happened last night?"

"The arrangement occurred as planned," Snape said. Harry looked up at Snape again, annoyed at the vague response. Snape sighed. "Six Order members in addition to Arthur Weasley set up at the Burrow which was subsequently attacked by ten Death Eaters. Injuries were gained on both sides, the Burrow sustained fairly extensive fire damage, and two Death Eaters were captured."

Harry's face tightened at the news. "Is everyone okay?"

"Bill Weasley was the worst of it with several severe lacerations, but he is already mostly healed," Snape said. "The others are completely healed."

"Good," Harry said quietly before sighing. "I didn't want any of this."

"I am aware, but it was the decision of the Order," Snape said.

"Are you going to be in trouble with Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"I will be fine," Snape said. "Now, get downstairs. Your gaggle of redheads and Gryffindors are waiting for you."

Harry looked up at the man again, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Feeling outnumbered, Professor?"

"A commonality in my life, Potter," Snape said with a weary sigh that made Harry laugh lightly. "Go, before I levitate you down there myself."

Harry climbed to his feet and quickly changed clothes with his wand before walking around Snape to the door. Before leaving, he turned back to the professor.

"Are we still training?" Harry asked. He knew Snape had said they would continue at Grimmauld Place, but he also knew things could easily change.

"We will resume in two days," Snape said. "We will begin Occlumency as well as dueling to help with your excess magic."

"Duelling?" Harry repeated excitedly and Snape nodded. "Wait, I'm duelling you?"

"Unless you wish for another trainer," Snape said.

"Bloody hell, you're going to murder me," Harry said with a groan.

"Think of it as incentive," Snape said with a smirk before shoving Harry into the hallway. "Go eat already."

Harry chuckled and watched Snape head upstairs before going downstairs himself. As he drew closer to the kitchen, his stomach twisted more and more until he was in pain and feeling ill. He remembered his fight with Ron, the horrible things his friend had shouted. Hurt and anger boiled inside, stirring up his magic once again. He pushed it all down and walked into the kitchen, faltering slightly when the full table turned to him.

"Good morning, Harry, dear, and happy birthday," Mrs. Weasley said, coming over to hug him again. "How are you this morning?"

"Sure, because he's the one that fought Death Eaters or got thrown across the room by a crazy person last night," Ron muttered, stabbing at his sausages.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley snapped while Hermione swatted Ron's arm. He just glared at his mother and Hermione, avoiding looking at Harry all together. "Sit, sit," Mrs. Weasley said and guided Harry to one of the empty chairs, across from Ron and beside Lupin. He gave a tight smile as Mrs. Weasley slid a plate full of breakfast in front of him and proceeded to slowly pick at it. Quiet conversations carried on around the table except between Harry and his friends. Ron was stonily silent and would not move his eyes from his breakfast. Hermione kept glancing between Harry and Ron, obviously unsure what to do or say.

"Professor McGonagall dropped off your letters early this morning," Mrs. Weasley said, handing envelopes to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry frowned at the weight of his letter and the odd, hard shape that seemed to be accompanying the parchment. He tore open the envelope and pulled out two pieces of parchment. One was his normal letter with the year's list of books and supplies, but the other was a short note.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Due to your years of dedication and your display of skill, I am pleased to offer you the position of Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain for the upcoming school year.

Your mother, father, and godfather would be proud.

Congratulations, Mr. Potter.

Professor M. McGonagall

Harry blinked, uncomprehendingly, and tipped over his envelope. A small gold badge clattered to the table. He stared at it, still trying to understand as well as breathe past the mention of his parents and Sirius.

"Prefect! Oh, Hermione, how wonderful!"

Harry looked away from his badge at Mrs. Weasley's exclamation, finding her examining a shiny badge while Hermione beamed with shy pride.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron said and Harry watched him snatch up the golden badge. "Quidditch Captain? You got Quidditch Captain?"

Harry said nothing, just staring at his friend.

"Congratulations, Harry," Tonks said with a wide smile.

"Yeah, good work," Charlie said.

"James and Sirius would be so proud and excited," Lupin said and the fist around Harry's heart squeezed harder.

"Sure," Ron sneered, tossing the badge back onto the table. "Too bad they're dead."

"Ron!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Hermione snapped.

"No, don't act like it's not true," Ron said. "He breaks the rules, gets people killed, and he gets a reward. Everyone, risk your lives because he's Harry bloody Potter and the rest of us mean nothing."

Harry glowered at Ron. "I didn't ask you to go to the Ministry. I told you to stay behind actually."

"You don't have to ask. We're supposed to want to just lay down and die for you," Ron said. "My own family's done it. Cedric. Sirius."

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

"I didn't ask for any of it," Harry ground out.

"Next one to step up to be your replacement family best be ready to die," Ron said. "Might as well do it yourself. Want us to just line up for you?"

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley yelled again.

"You know it should have been you all these times, right?" Ron said.

Harry felt his magic rush away from him, and every single glass and cup on the table exploded, making people scream in shock.

"Dangerous freak!" Ron shouted.

Harry jumped to his feet as the table began to shake. "If you're so worried about dying, why are you still my friend?"

"Who said I was?" Ron said.

Harry winced at the pain. "Well, wait long enough, and I'll be gone for good. You'll be safe from me in no time."

"Good," Ron said.

Eyes burning at the rage and hatred in Ron's face, Harry kicked his chair away, grabbed the badge, and left the kitchen.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" he heard Mrs. Weasley shriek as he hurried from the room.

In the foyer, he was about to head down the corridor that led to the back door and charmed backyard when he spotted Snape standing on the first landing of the stairs. They stared at each other for several seconds before Harry broke the contact and continued outside.

Harry stared at the huge, gated, grassy backyard, charmed to exist given it was behind a townhouse in London, while turning over the Quidditch badge in his hands. It was a cloudy day, typical for London, and a perfect match for his mood. He heard the door open behind him, but he didn't react. Snape lowered himself to sit next to Harry on the step and they sat together in silence.

"Any chance you hate me enough to just kill me right now?" Harry asked dully after a long while.

"No such luck today, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

"Shame," Harry muttered, looking down at the badge in his hands. "I've never wanted anyone to die for me."

"I know."

"It is my fault that they're all dead. It should have been me."

"That we disagree on."

"Ron's right. Anyone close to me will die."

"We are at war. If anyone dies, that is the reason, not you. You do not have that much power in this world."

Harry didn't respond, unsure what to say. He frowned at the badge, swiping his thumb over it to clear a smudge absently.

"Congratulations," Snape said.

"I suppose you fought against the decision," Harry said.

"I had no part. It is solely the decision of the Head of House and headmaster," Snape said.

"If you were a part of it?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape said. "You are best for the position."

Harry finally looked at the professor, eyebrow raised. "Am I actually dead? Was that a compliment?"

"Birthday goodwill," Snape said. "It ends in twelve hours."

Harry's lips twitched and he hummed in amusement. He was turning back to the yard when Snape held out a box wrapped with a simple black bow. He took it curiously, putting his badge aside and tugging on the bow. He pulled the ribbon off and opened the box, finding two items sitting inside: a book simply titled Magical Theory and a very familiar wand. Shakily, he carefully picked up the wand, tears springing to his eyes.

"I went back to the Department of Mysteries on the Dark Lord's orders to confirm there was nothing left of the prophecy. I found Black's wand near the veil. Had the Ministry found it, it would have been destroyed," Snape explained. "Despite my personal feelings for the man, it seems like something that should be in your possession."

Harry swallowed thickly, placing the wand back into the box gingerly. "Thank you, Professor. For the book as well."

"Happy birthday, Mr. Potter," Snape said and Harry smiled down at his gift. "Your friend is incorrect. You do not deserve to die."

"You would have agreed with him the last five years," Harry said, flipping casually through his new book.

"I have never wanted you dead," Snape said. "You're a child."

Harry sighed. "I'm just tired. I wish I could choose when I die instead of waiting for Dumbledore's command. I just want something to be my choice for once." He flicked at the corner of the pages. "You know, if you killed me, you wouldn't have to worry about all the problems I cause you anymore."

"I am not going to kill you, Potter."

"Why not? No one will care if I'm gone. No one cares that I'm here."

"Because I would much prefer you have a chance to truly live," Snape said and Harry looked at him, surprised at the sentiment as well as touched. "This will all pass."

"What will I have left at the end of it all?" Harry said, looking out at the yard again, feeling lost and alone and small. "What will be left of me?"

"Strength. Bravery," Snape said. "The you waiting to live."

Harry stared at the yard as he let the professor's words wash over him, repeating them in his mind. He didn't see a future for himself so he wasn't sure he could fully believe Snape's sentiments, but a part of him wanted to. He wanted to believe he could have a life, find a family, be happy and free. It was all he'd ever wanted and he wanted to believe he could have it, that he even deserved it.

"How does your magic feel?" Snape asked after a long silence. "Have you still been doing your exercises?"

"For the most part. It felt harder to do anything the last few days considering I was coming here," Harry said honestly, feeling the ache in his chest that had taken up residence there and made it a bit harder to breathe, a bit harder to think, a bit harder to want to continue on. "I've had a couple of outbursts. It actually hurts a bit right now."

"You likely have buildup as your magic had been becoming accustomed to being used regularly," Snape said. "Come, up."

Harry looked up as Snape stood. "You're not busy?"

"I would not be here if I were," Snape said. "Up, Potter."

Harry put his gift on the step beside him, putting his Quidditch badge in the box so it didn't get lost, and got to his feet. He followed Snape out to the middle of the wide-open yard.

"So, what are we doing?" Harry asked.

"We are dueling," Snape said and Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Harry said.

"It is the most effective way to quickly expel a large amount of magic," Snape said. "I told you we would duel once you were here."

"Well, yeah, but I thought we'd start with like lessons or learning spells, not just jump into a duel," Harry said. "You're going to destroy me."

Snape just smirked at him.

Harry huffed. "Fine. How do I duel without a wand or incantations?"

"Think the incantations. It is very similar to non-verbal magic," Snape said.

"Which I haven't exactly learned yet," Harry interrupted and Snape scowled at him though it seemed to lack any heat.

"You can also think about your intent if you do not have a specific spell for what you wish to achieve," Snape added.

"Why do I feel like you're using this as an excuse to hex me?" Harry said and rolled his eyes when Snape smirked again, pulling his wand.

Harry shook his head, but he wasn't afraid or annoyed. Instead, he was amused and grateful to the man for getting him out of his head and being willing to help him in a way no one else seemed to be. Where everyone else had assumed he was fine or blatantly ignored that he wasn't, Snape had noticed and done something. Only a couple weeks had changed everything between them, and all because Snape had taken the time to notice him and see him. It was strange and he didn't understand it, but he was willing to accept it for the moment. He'd be lost otherwise.

He turned his focus to his magic and the professor, his magic immediately reacting to the chance to be used. Snape obviously realized he was ready for the man adjusted his stance, ready to battle. Harry took a deep breath and made the first move, swinging his hand up and in front of him while pushing his magic outwards, thinking of the Disarming Spell.

Snape deflected it easily, responding with a spell Harry didn't recognize, but felt like something offensive.

"Even without a wand, you use that damn spell," Snape said, sending a second spell Harry managed to block. "Be unpredictable. You are identifiable due to that spell."

Harry ducked a spell that felt harsh and sent a Stunner followed by a Confounding Charm. Snape stepped smoothly out of the path of one and deflected the other, immediately returning his own Stunner.

"Do not be afraid to hurt me, Potter," Snape said, slashing his wand at Harry.

The grass around Harry's feet began to grow and wrap around his ankles, climbing up his legs. He quickly sent fire at the grass, scorching it from his body.

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry said, sending a Binding Spell, "anymore," he added at Snape's raised eyebrow.

"You won't, not really, but you need to learn to be more offensive," Snape said, multiple Stinging Hexes hitting Harry.

"You won't be angry?" Harry asked.

"It will not leave training," Snape said.

Harry nodded and changed tactics. At the same time he dodged what was clearly a curse, he raised both hands in front of him, splitting his magic between them and pushing it out. Half the magic transformed into a glittery snake that rushed towards Snape while the other half formed a huge orb of blinding light. Snape sent a spell at the orb, shattering it into magical dust and sent a blast of fire through Harry's snake. The fire disturbed the snake's form, but went right through, the snake reforming. Harry blocked some of the fire, receiving a singe on his shoulder that made him hiss.

Harry pushed his snake to circle Snape, absorbing any spells cast until a white one hit and it was dispelled. Several spells were thrown at him in quick succession. He blocked two, dodged one, but received a cut on his cheek. Harry waved his hand through the air, a trail of flying keys being created and following behind. He sent the cloud of keys at Snape, encasing him in their tornado. He sent a Blasting Curse at the ground, sending dirt flying into the air. He dodged Snape's own Blasting Curse which exploded a bunch of the keys, tripping on vines that suddenly started grabbing him from the ground.

He burned the vines at the same time Snape melted the remaining keys. Another Cutting Curse hit Harry's leg, making him respond with his own, following behind a ball of fire. Snape extinguished the fire, but was hit in the upper arm by the Cutting Curse. Harry was hit by a Repelling Charm and went sliding across the ground. He jumped to his feet, throwing drops of water that he froze mid-air at the man. Snape blocked most, sending a spell that caused a spasm in Harry's leg, sending him to his knees.

Harry put his palms on the ground and fire exploded there, travelling across the yard and forming a circle around Snape, flames growing taller. Close behind, he sent ropes, slithering along the ground inside the fire, beginning to twist up one of Snape's legs. A wave of water washed away from Snape, extinguishing the fire and crashing over Harry, drenching him. A jolt of electricity had him collapse to the ground. He was flung onto his back and, arms over his head, vines crept out of the ground and wrapped around his wrists, securing him to the ground.

He slumped into the bonds, exhausted and sore. The vines released him seconds later, but he just laid there, breathing hard, as Snape walked over to him. Snape looked...ruffled and his upper sleeve was torn from the Cutting Curse that had landed, but they were the only signs that the man had just participated in a duel. Snape knelt next to him and waved his wand, instantly drying Harry off.

"Thanks," Harry said, pushing himself up with a groan. "So, I'm terrible, right?"

"No, not once you stopped holding back," Snape said. "It is a good start."

Harry smiled, pleased to not be a failure finally. "Sorry about your arm."

"Easily healed," Snape said nonchalantly.

"And me?" Harry asked somewhat cheekily. "Whatever you hit my leg with bloody hurt. Still does."

"Muscle Tightening Hex," Snape said, moving Harry's torn and burned clothes to see his injuries, and grabbing his chin to examine his cut cheek. "You will survive."

As Harry met Snape's eyes, he was sure the man meant more than surviving a few small dueling injuries.

"Well, thanks for this," Harry said. "My magic feels loads better and, honestly, it was fun."

"An interesting choice, the flying keys," Snape said and Harry chuckled.

"I was inspired by first year," Harry said. "Those bloody things were a pain."

"They were also not meant for eleven year olds," Snape said and Harry shrugged, still grinning.

Snape gave a small smirk and stood, holding out a hand to help Harry to his feet. They walked back to the back door, Harry picking up his gift from the professor. They went inside, heading to the front foyer.

"I must go," Snape said as Harry made to go upstairs. "I will be back in a couple days and we will begin Mind Magic."

Harry nodded, a little apprehensive.

"It will be different," Snape assured. "Try to enjoy the rest of your birthday."

"Yes, sir," Harry said and watched the man disappear into the sitting room, hearing the Floo. He glanced down the hall at the open kitchen, hearing muffled voices, and contemplated joining whoever was in there. Looking down at Snape's gift, he decided against it and headed up the stairs. He was nearly at the top when he realized Ron was standing there, leaning on the railing where he could see down to the foyer and a glare on his face.

"Traitor," Ron muttered as Harry passed to go to Sirius' room. He stopped at the door and turned around.

"What was that?" Harry said, tense.

"You heard me," Ron said.

"Yeah, I did," Harry said. "I'd hoped you would change it."

"Why would I do that?" Ron sneered. "You're hanging out with the resident Death Eater, acting like buddies."

"Things change," Harry said, not in the mood for this particular fight.

"They sure do," Ron said. "Go be with your Slytherin friends. At least if they die because of you, they deserve it."

Harry clenched his jaw, glaring at Ron, before shoving the door open and storming into Sirius' room. He slammed it behind him and locked it, moving to sit heavily on the bed. He sighed, sad and angry, and looked down at the box in his hands. He picked up Sirius' wand, remembering the way they'd fought together before...

Good one, James!

Harry shook his head to clear the memory and put the wand on the bedside table in front of the photo of the Marauders, moving the two-way mirror into the drawer. He put his new Quidditch badge on the table as well, smiling lightly at it. Now that his magic was settled and he wasn't in the middle of fighting with Ron, he was actually thrilled and proud to have gotten the position. Taking the book out, he made to toss the box on the floor, but pushed magic at it instead, banishing it. He had just settled against the wall and pillows to read when a vial with a tag attached popped into existence in the air in front of him. He grabbed it and read the note.

Put this in a bath before you go to sleep.

SS.

Harry smiled, warmed, and put the vial on the table. Not feeling completely alone in the terrible house, he opened his new book and began reading.

Dinner was an extraordinarily awkward affair, especially as Mrs. Weasley tried to make everyone focus on it being Harry's birthday rather than what had happened between him and Ron earlier. Everyone ate her dinner, holding semi-casual conversations even as they eyed Ron and Harry, clearly waiting for another explosion, whether yelling from Ron or magical from Harry. Most enjoyed a slice of cake while Harry received an array of gifts that he opened uncomfortably. It was mostly sweets and books with items from the twins' shop, but there were three that stood out.

Not only was Harry surprised that Moody gave him a gift in general, but he was also stunned at the gift itself. It was a dragon-hide wand holster with all kinds of protections as well as a cloak with similar charms.

From Kingsley, he received a note, telling him the man had something special to give him later at the request of Snape.

Finally, from Lupin, he received a pocket watch. He looked at the werewolf curiously.

"It is tradition for young men to be given a pocket watch on their sixteenth birthday," Lupin said. "This one is your father's, Potter heirloom. I went to Godric's Hollow a few months after Halloween and I took this. I wanted a memory, but it's yours now."

Harry looked at the gold watch again, examining the details in the embossed crest, his eyes teary. He swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," he said quietly and Lupin gave him a gentle smile, a tinge of sadness in it.

"Here you are, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, handing him an envelope. "Professor McGonagall sent OWL scores this morning as well. I didn't get a chance to give them to you at breakfast."

Harry took the envelope, glancing at Ron who was glaring at his cake. Harry gave Mrs. Weasley a tight smile and excused himself, gathering his gifts to bring back upstairs. He knew they all probably wanted him to open his scores there in the kitchen, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't listen to them all gush about his grades and his future when he didn't have one, no matter how much he wanted to believe Snape.

He pushed into Sirius' room, automatically closing the door behind him. He put his gifts on the desk in the corner, moving back to the bed with his OWLs. He laid down and levitated the envelope above him, just staring at it. It had been such a horrible year. Had he even managed to pass any of his exams?

Sighing, he grabbed the envelope from the air and ripped into in, pulling out the single, folded piece of parchment. He scanned the contents in surprise.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Below you will find the final scores for your Ordinary Wizarding Levels (OWLs) as they reflect your theoretical and practical demonstrations in the respective core courses of study. You will also see a list of extra advanced courses of study now available to you. please be aware that enrollment in additional courses is extremely limited, so ensure you decide quickly to get the courses you desire. You may choose up to two of these courses.

Scoring:

O = Outstanding                                                      P = Poor

EE = Exceeds Expectations                                   D = Dreadful

A = Acceptable                                                        T = Troll

OWL Results for Mr. Harry J. Potter:

Transfiguration = EE

Charms = EE

Potions = EE

Defense Against the Dark Arts = O

Herbology = EE

Care of Magical Creatures = EE

History of Magic = D

Astronomy = A

Divination = P

Available advanced study courses (choose up to two):

Please note that advanced study takes place outside of regular class hours as scheduled by the respective instructors.

Animagus training - Professor M. McGonagall

Dueling - Professor S. Snape & Professor F. Flitwick

Magical Theory - Professor S. Snape

Healing Magic - Professor P. Sprout & Madam P. Pomfrey

Warding - Professor M. McGonagall

Curse Breaking - Professor F. Flitwick

Harry blinked, stunned at his results. They were beyond what he'd expected, aside from Divination and History of Magic. Failing those was no surprise and no great loss. He was also surprised by the additional courses; no one had mentioned them once. However, he was intrigued and already conflicted over which ones to choose.

A knock on the door pulled him from his contemplation and he looked up as Kingsley walked in, a large box in his hands. He hadn't interacted with the man much, but enough. It had been Kingsley that helped get him out of the Ministry and back to Hogwarts while Dumbledore dealt with Fudge. It was Kingsley who had explained what he could of the veil, helping to end Harry's desperate belief that Sirius could come back. It was Kingsley who had kept checking in on Harry on the train back to London rather than just ignoring him the way most everyone else did. It was Kingsley who, while a part of the group that brought Harry back to Privet Dive, had talked to Harry before leaving, trying to gauge if Harry was okay. He hadn't been successful as Harry had refused to speak, but he appreciated the effort. He didn't know the man well, but he liked what he did know.

"Hey, kid," Kingsley said. "How'd you do?" He nodded at the letter Harry still held.

"Better than I expected considering," Harry said. "Why did no one ever mention these extra courses?"

"They're never determined until after OWLs are done," Kingsley said. "It's a whole big staff meeting to decide what to offer and from who and to what students. They have to talk about every student basically and decide what the majority could want based on the last five years."

"So, the options are personalized?" Harry said.

"Mostly," Kingsley said. "I took Dueling and Curse Breaking."

Harry looked back at his letter, once more surprised. Based on his options, Snape had to have agreed that he could be interested in and capable of such advanced magic, even before the last couple weeks.

"Anyway, this is for you," Kingsley said, setting the box he held at the foot of th ebbed. Harry sat up, looking at it curiously. "Severus requested it, but I'd already been considering giving it to you to help with everything."

"You and Snape know each other?" Harry asked, pulling at the simple blue ribbon wrapped around the box.

"As close to friends as we can be," Kingsley said. "I was one of the Aurors charged with guarding him during his trial after the first war. Kind of got to know the guy."

"So, you know he's a spy?" Harry asked and Kingsley nodded. "No one else seems to believe he's a spy."

"Did you before the Ministry?" Kingsley asked.

Harry paused with his hands on the lid of the box. His eyes flicked to the Auror and back to the box. "No, I guess not." He sighed and lifted the lid.

"He's good at what he does," Kingsley said.

"No kidding," Harry muttered and he looked into the box. He frowned at the item and then Kingsley as he pulled it out, settling it in his lap. "A Pensieve?"

"Severus told me you'll be doing Occlumency again and he asked me to get you one to help as you learn," Kingsley said. "I also wanted to give you one to try and help you cope."

"How did you get one?" Harry asked, ignoring the reference to the Ministry and Sirius. "Aren't they rare?"

Kingsley shrugged.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Well, thanks."

Kingsley smiled at him. "How are you?"

Harry looked at him, realizing no one but Snape had asked him that. Normally, he would've hated the question, but it felt different this time. He looked back down at his new Pensieve, tapping the silver edge.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Everything is wrong and screwed up. Everything except..." he trailed off, frowning into the Pensieve's crystal surface.

"Except?" Kingsley pushed gently.

"Except Snape?" Harry said, the comment coming out more like a question. "He's been...different and it's been helping."

"A lot's changed, a lot's going on," Kingsley said. "You two aren't too different from each other."

"Feel like I'm figuring that out," Harry said. "Kind of feels too late though."

"It's never too late," Kingsley said and Harry looked up at him, slightly puzzled. "Have a good night, kid. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Harry said and the door closed behind Kingsley, leaving him alone again.

"I warned you, Severus!" he yelled. "Crucio!"

He poured all of his rage into the curse, watching the tremours wracking Severus get more severe with each second. Yet, the man made no sound. He ended the curse and, while Severus sagged almost imperceptibly, the trembling continued.

"Your information cost me not only the boy, but also two of our own," he said. "Is the fool losing confidence in you?"

"No, my lord. He remains delusional and oblivious as always," Severus said. "He changed his plan at the last moment as he is wont to do."

He gave a shout of rage and sliced his wand sharply through the air, a deep slash appearing on Severus' cheek. The man didn't even flinch.

"I will not tolerate failure, not now when it could jeopardize everything," he said.

"Yes, my lord," Severus said, bowing his head. "I will not fail you again."

"See that you don't."

He flicked his wand and thin, red ropes began to wrap around the man's arms from wrist to shoulder. They circled around and around, the sleeves tearing and then the skin. Blood began to flow steadily, soaking the black clothing and dripping to the floor below. When Severus' face began to lose colour, he ended the spell but followed up quickly with another Cruciatus.

He held it gleefully until blood began to trickle from Severus' nose. Only then was he satisfied. Then, he turned his attention inwards, finding that spot, the thing he knew was Harry Potter, and he sent an internal Cruciatus at it, watching it shiver violently.

He laughed as he watched it disappear.

Harry grimaced as he forced his body to move, rising from the kitchen table as he finished his dinner. It had been a long, painful day following the nightmare and Voldemort's torture. The limits of their connection were steadily being discovered and Voldemort was now able to curse him directly when he was in the middle of a vision. Today, it was as though the Cruciatus had never ended, his nerves on fire all day. Gratefully, the house had been fairly quiet and empty, everyone staying there gone except Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Snape, though Snape had been locked away in his room all day. Harry had tried talking to him, concerned - just a little - after his nightmare, but the man hadn't answered.

He climbed his way slowly up the stairs, wincing with every step as he made his way to the third floor. He walked down the hall and around the corner to the second door on the right. he knocked and waited.

"Professor?" he called through the door when all remained silent. He sighed. "I just wanted to see if you were okay. I had a nightmare last night. I saw what he did to you because of me."

He was somewhat startled when the door opened and he was looking at Snape instead of wood.

"Your sense of self-importance is phenomenal, Potter," Snape said, walking away but leaving the door open in what Harry figured was the closest he would get to an invitation.

Harry walked in, closing the door behind him. "Am I wrong?"

"You're always wrong," Snape said and Harry rolled his eyes at the poor insult. He watched as the man lowered himself carefully into an armchair sat in the corner of the room. He was dressed casually, just in what seemed to be sleep trousers and a loose, long-sleeved grey raglan shirt. Harry could see the paleness in Snape's face, the strain lines, and the light tremours that still shook his body.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I am here," Snape said simply.

"That doesn't mean you're okay," Harry said, moving to sit on the bed, moving almost as slowly as Snape.

Snape sighed, sounding exhausted. "I am fine, Potter. Are you?"

Harry looked at him, questioning.

"I am well-acquainted with the after-effects of the Cruciatus," Snape said pointedly.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, wincing as he did. Snape instantly opened a drawer on the desk next to him and pulled out a vial, tossing it to Harry who downed it without question. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You have heard of self-preservation, yes?" he said.

Harry gave a cheeky grin. "Sure, but I also have it on good authority that you don't actually want to kill me."

"Perhaps I've made a mistake telling you. We could have proceeded through the next two years as though nothing had changed," Snape grumbled. "Likely simpler."

"I like that things have changed," Harry said, shifting on the bed until he could lean against the wall, bending his knees and draping his arms over them. "Everything is so mad now. You're the only thing that doesn't make me want to just lay down and die."

"My, my, things have changed," Snape said with a smirk.

"You were never that bad," Harry said with his own grin.

They fell into a relatively comfortable silence for a while, a feeling he didn't experience with anyone else. Surreal he only had it with Snape.

"You received your OWL results, correct?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded.

"And?" Snape pressed.

Harry shrugged again. "Does it matter?"

"It should," Snape said.

"Why?" Harry said. "I'm going to die, so it's not like I get to have a career or anything."

"Humour me," Snape said and Harry sighed. He pulled his letter from his pocket and levitated it over to Snape easily with his excess magic. He watched Snape scan the parchment. "Well done, Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced at him with slight surprise before dropping his eyes to his hands where he was absently picking at a chipped nail. "Thanks, but, like I said, it doesn't really matter. Though, I guess you're happy you don't have to deal with me in Potions anymore."

"If I didn't know better, I would think you sound disappointed," Snape said. "Would you miss my torment that much?"

Harry gave a little laugh. "I never actually hated Potions. I hated you."

Snape gave him an incredulous look.

"Okay, I hated Potions a bit, but I hated you more," Harry said. "For the most part, I kind of like Potions and guess I am a bit disappointed I won't get to take it anymore."

Snape hummed, looking at Harry's letter again. "Humour me again. If you were to survive, what might you like to do in the future?"

Harry frowned at his hands as he thought. "Everyone thinks Auror. It's even what I told McGonagall last year, but I don't know anymore. honestly, the idea of doing all of this fighting and dodging death voluntarily and for the rest of my life sounds like the worst possible thing."

"So, what do you like?" Snape asked.

Harry contemplated. "Duelling," he said eventually. "Real duelling is fun, like what we did yesterday, and I'm decent at it. It's Defence without the attempts on my life and I like Defence a lot."

"Anything else?" Snape asked, levitating the results back to Harry.

Harry thought again. "Magic in general," he said and Snape looked at him curiously. "With all this stuff I can do now, I don't know, I'm kind of interested in magic itself now, how it all works."

"Certainly something to consider pursuing," Snape said.

"Should I take the Magical Theory elective?" Harry asked, browsing the list again.

"I suppose that depends on what happens upon your return to Hogwarts," Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"If your training continues, you will learn Magical Theory as a result," Snape said.

Harry dropped the parchment in his lap. "Are you offering?"

Snape didn't respond and Harry found himself suddenly puzzled and uncomfortable. It was as though it was only just occurring to him that the person making things better for the last two weeks was Snape and it was not how things were supposed to be between them. Some part of him had been sure the changes were just for the summer, that they would return to what they were and had been all these years come September. Snape's subtle offer had that idea not so solid anymore and he didn't know what to do with it.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice suddenly rang out from the hallway. "Harry, where are you?"

"Go on, Potter," Snape said. "I will not allow you to isolate yourself fin here."

"You are," Harry pointed out even as he slipped off the bed and headed to the door.

"Yes, but there is no one to come searching for me," Snape said sardonically.

Harry frowned, unsure what to say or feel. He stayed quiet in his confusion and left the room. The sound of a door grabbed Hermione's attention just as she was about to head back down the stairs. Harry watched her turn to him. He hadn't actually spoken to her in the couple days he'd been at Grimmauld, mostly keeping to himself and always finding her with Ron. He'd assumed she was taking Ron's side, agreed with him that the Ministry was all Harry's fault, particularly due to the looks he had caught her sending him. After all, Hermione had been seriously injured, nearly killed. 

"Could we talk?" Hermione asked, her eyes flicking between Harry and Snape's door, a clear question there.

"Not if you're going to repeat what Ron's already made very clear," Harry said stiffly. He saw a flash in Hermione's eyes, recognizing the mix of hurt and uncertainty.

"I'm worried about you," Hermione said.

Sighing at his own unfair judgements, Harry nodded and led the way down to the second floor to the library. They sat on the sofa by the fireplace and Harry looked at Hermione expectantly.

"I don't blame you," Hermione said. "The Ministry and everything that happened, I don't blame you. I knew the risks and made the choice."

"Tell Ron that," Harry said bitterly.

"Oh, Harry, you know he doesn't mean it," Hermione said. "He'll come around. He just needs time."

Harry glared at the empty fireplace. "Right."

Hermione sighed.

"What do you want to talk about?" Harry said. "Why are you worried?"

"We haven't heard from you at all this summer and you were so quiet on the train in June," Hermione said. "Have you been alright?"

"I was dumped back in Privet Drive alone for the last month after getting Sirius killed and being possessed," Harry said snappishly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. You've been so closed off and then there's your magic," Hermione said. "I just want to know what's going on with you. You're not talking to us anymore."

"You haven't talked to me either," Harry said. "I'm still learning what's going on. My magic changed after the Ministry."

"Harry, I saw what happened at breakfast. Ron told me what you did that first night," Hermione said. "Your magic hasn't just changed, it's obviously out of control and could be dangerous."

Harry glared at her. "So, that's what you're actually worried about? My bloody magic?"

"Yes, because it isn't normal," Hermione said. "I think you need help. You could hurt someone."

"I'm dealing with it," Harry said through a clenched jaw, hurt at her implication that he would hurt someone.

"Harry, this is dangerous," Hermione said. "I've been reading and there are Suppression Potions that could help, could make your magic safer."

"You want to suppress my magic?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Raw magic is dangerous and can't be controlled," Hermione justified.

"Well, I'm learning how to control it," Harry said. "I've got help."

"Who? Professor Snape?" Hermione said, her face twisted into a frown. "Harry, I don't think we can fully trust him."

"Changed your mind all of a sudden," Harry said. "Why have you decided we can't trust him now when I've decided I can?"

"I just don't think you're thinking clearly after everything that's happened," Hermione said.

"I'm not crazy," Harry said. "Who do you think sent the Order to the Ministry? Who do you think brewed all those potions you needed all last month? He didn't have to do those things."

"Of course he did, for Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He's on our side and he's helping me."

"He hates you," Hermione said.

"Things change and even if he does hate me, so what? Someone that hates me has done more for me than anyone else in this damn house," Harry said. "At least he's not calling me a murderer or wishing I'm dead or calling me dangerous or wanting to take my magic away."

"Harry-"

"If you're so afraid of me, why are you here?" Harry said.

"I just don't want you to hurt anyone else," Hermione said, her eyes widening immediately as she obviously realized what she'd said. "I...I didn't mean-"

"No, you did," Harry said stiffly. "I'll keep my distance and you'll be safe."

"Harry-"

Harry just shook his head and made to leave the library. At the door, he stopped and turned back to Hermione. There was pain in her face, but he could see the fear and even a little anger that made his own eyes burn. He couldn't believe this was happening. They were supposed to be his best friends, had been there through everything, and right when he lost Sirius...

Was he going to have anyone left or was he really meant to be alone forever?

"You know, I never asked you and Ron to do any of the things we've done. I never asked you to follow me," Harry said. "I never asked for any of what's happened to me, including what's happened to my magic. I hate who I am. I hate my life. I want nothing more than for it all to end. I thought you both knew that."

He saw one tear fall down Hermione's cheek and, feeling on the ledge and completely alone in the world once again, he left the library.

Harry gazed out at the dark, empty street from where he sat on Grimmauld Place's front steps. He knew he should be in bed given it was three in the morning and he knew he was pushing the safety of the place to its limits, but he didn't care. He just couldn't stop thinking and every thought brought him back to the same place: wanting to step off those stairs and get captured, get killed. He doubted anyone would even notice he was gone; he had no one, not anymore. he had no real reason to stay around. The one thing he wanted - a family - would never exist for him, so what was the point in continuing in this suffering?

He dropped his eyes to his newest wooden snake, finding a small light breaking through the abyss that was his mind. Thoughts of Snape drifted across the forefront of his mind and his eyebrows furrowed with the conflict he suddenly found himself in. He'd begun questioning everything about the last two weeks, suddenly aware that everything that had been going on between him and Snape was not normal and that the last five years shouldn't have been so easily pushed aside. Maybe Ron and Hermione were right. maybe he wasn't thinking clearly maybe he was betraying his friends...Sirius...his parents.

Even more reason to die then; to stop hurting everyone, to stop being a disappointment.

He looked past his snake and at the dark street again. It would take three steps to leave the wards, to give himself up...to give up. Three steps and it could all end. Just three steps...

"Potter."

Harry huffed, irrationally irritated at being interrupted.

"Your timing is annoyingly impeccable, Professor," Harry grumbled, glaring at the street he could no longer step into with Snape there.

"Yes, well, after the last five years, I seem to have developed a sixth sense for when you are on the verge of something particularly idiotic," Snape said.

A part of Harry appreciated the attempt at the dry joke, but it was drowned quickly by the crushing despair urging him to leap off the ledge he'd been standing on all day. The darkness waiting seemed so inviting.

"I'm fine," Harry said dully. "You can go back to bed."

Snape snorted and lowered himself to sit next to Harry only one step up so his legs were beside Harry. "I am not that stupid, nor are you."

Harry scowled out at the dark, spotting the streetlight that was flickering a few flats down. Just three steps...

"I'd rather be alone," Harry said stiffly, clenching his fist around his wooden snake until it hurt.

"I am sure you would," Snape said, "but you are three steps away from a very bad decision that I would rather have a head start on fixing."

Harry ground his teeth together, setting his jaw. Just three steps. It would be so easy...

"What if I don't want it fixed?" Harry said harshly. "What if I don't want it to get better?"

Snape didn't say anything, but his presence behind Harry seemed to grow. He felt the man's magic roll like waves, concern washing over him with understanding laying in the undertow. Harry's eyes burned and he fought back the tears brimming there.

"I just want it to end," Harry said, his voice dropping.

"I know you do," Snape said, his own voice quiet, but gentle.

"Then why won't you let me??" Harry whispered, pained.

Just three steps...

"It might be what you want, but it is not what you deserve," Snape said.

Harry scoffed, swiping angrily at the one tear that escaped down his cheek. "How do you know what I deserve?"

"You showed me," Snape said.

Harry gave a short, humourless laugh and rolled his watery eyes to the black sky. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You have shown me I was wrong," Snape said. "You have shown me what I refused to see."

Harry found, this time, the man's words weren't breaking through the dark that encompassed him. The abyss was just so deep, the end just steps away so inviting, and he was so alone. He shook his head, his face twisting into a frown as a couple more tears fell.

"You don't get to do this," Harry said.

"Do what?" Snape asked.

"This. Be here. Pretend," Harry said.

"Pretend?" Snape repeated.

Harry wasn't sure what caused it, but something snapped as he tumbled over the ledge. He jumped to his feet and spun to look wildly at Snape, the tears reaching their capacity and pouring over.

"Pretend you care! You don't care! No one cares!" Harry yelled brokenly. Several streetlights exploded along the street, drenching the area in complete darkness and raining glass tinkling on the asphalt. "You don't get to sit there and act like this is normal when you're just going to leave me!"

"Potter-"

Harry shook his head, his chest jerking as he tried not to audibly sob and tears dripping off his chin. He stepped down to the second last stair, feeling the alarm in Snape's magic.

Just two steps...

"I'm done! I can't do it anymore!" Harry shouted and he stepped down again. He turned to the street.

Just one step...

Snape's hand shot out and grasped Harry's bicep.

"Let me go," Harry said, staring at the waiting street.

"I can't do that," Snape said.

"Let me go!" Harry yelled desperately. "They all have!"

"No."

Harry pulled hard and lifted his foot from the stair. He moved to drop it only for an arm to wrap around his chest and yank him backwards. As he fought and struggled against the hold, desperate to take that last step, they stumbled backwards on the stairs. Snape was back on the stair he'd originally been sitting on and Harry fell into his chest, sliding down until Snape's grip stopped him. He was left sprawled on his side across the descending stairs, the edge of one digging painfully into his hip. Snape's left arm was still wrapped around Harry's chest while his right hand was cupped around Harry's right bicep near his shoulder. Harry was curling down, his forehead nearly touching Snape's thigh.

His chest was hitching and heaving, and his tears flowed like rushing rivers. He was still falling, the ledge so far away now, he wasn't sure he could find his way back. This dark abyss was becoming all he knew.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry whispered, agonized.

"Because you have a job to do," Snape said quietly.

"I have to die anyway," Harry said. "Just let me."

"The prophecy is not what I am referring to," Snape said. "Your job is to live."

Harry shook his head, choking on a sob. "I can't, I can't...I've lost everyone so what's the point?"

"I'm here," Snape said.

Harry shook his head again. "You'll leave or die."

"I am still here, child," Snape said. "I am still here."

Harry fell forward with a sob. His left hand travelled up to clutch Snape's arm across his chest and his right fisted Snape's trouser leg as his forehead finally came to rest on the man's thigh. He could just barely feel the softness Snape's magic had undertaken, the way it seemed to settle around him, trying to pull him up, but it wasn't strong enough. Not this time, no matter how much he wanted to let it wash over him, to let it heal him in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been healed before. He shook and trembled as he sobbed almost violently, and Snape just held him through the never-ending abyss of despair he was lost in.

"You should get some sleep."

Harry blinked slowly at the street that was still dark, but less so as it grew closer and closer to morning. His eyes burned and his head ached, both from crying and tiredness. Yet, the mere idea of going to bed, of leaving those steps, of letting his eyes close for that long nearly paralyzed him. He couldn't go in that house, couldn't go in that room, couldn't be in that loneliness again.

"Potter?"

"I can't," Harry muttered, tightening his arms around his torso. He heard Snape sigh and felt the man's magic continue to flow lightly around him, feeling the concern still there. He wanted to sink into the emotion, wanted to take what it could give him...

If only he deserved it...

If only it could reach him...

"Very well," Snape said. "Come on."

Harry rolled his head against the railing in Snape's direction even though he couldn't see the man. "What?"

"If you are not going to sleep, we will do something else," Snape said.

Harry felt the man stand behind him and lifted his head to look over his shoulder. "Like what?"

"Occlumency," Snape said and Harry frowned.

"I don't think I'm in the best state for that," Harry said, remembering the shouts of ‘be calm' and ‘clear your mind' from the previous year.

"On the contrary," Snape said. "How you are feeling now, the state your mind is in, will be beneficial for the first steps of learning Occlumency."

"How?" Harry asked.

"We can see the natural form your subconscious takes in an effort to help you process and confront memories and thoughts while also protecting you from trauma," Snape said. "This form is what is then used to accomplish Occlumency."

"Why?" Harry said. "Why are you still doing this? Why are you still here?"

"I believe I told you I can help until you give up," Snape said.

Harry looked at him incredulously. "I haven't? I just tried to leave the wards, knowing I would be captured, begging you to let me die."

"I know when someone has given up," Snape said. "You have not. Not yet."

"How can you tell?" Harry asked.

"Because you did not leave the wards," Snape said.

Harry frowned again. "Because you pulled me back. You stopped me."

"Did I?" Snape said and Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "You have extraordinarily powerful excess magic that responds to your emotions. You broke the lights, but you did not throw me off though you could easily have done so."

Harry's eyes dropped to the stairs and moved to the streetlights that he'd caused to explode. He was confused and conflicted, questioning himself and wondering just what it was about Snape that had him spinning.

"Come on, Potter," Snape said again and, this time, after another minute of hesitation, Harry stood.

The door was opened and he was guided back inside. The house was silent and dark, all other occupants still asleep. Snape lit his wand to help them avoid tripping and waking Mrs. Black, and led the way upstairs. They walked quietly into Sirius' room, Snape closing the door behind them.

"We will use your Pensieve," Snape said, ending his wand's illumination as Harry turned on the lamp and gestured to the silver bowl sitting on the desk.

"How?" Harry asked.

"We will pull your mindscape, as it's called, from your subconscious and place it in the Pensieve for unobstructed exploration," Snape said. "It allows you to manipulate your mindscape without the emotional barriers that exist in the mind."

"Isn't that the whole point of Occlumency?" Harry said. "To control emotion?"

"Occlumency, yes, but not the initial setup and exploration of one's mindscape," Snape said. "This is to get you familiar with the space and identify what exists there."

"Is this needed to do Occlumency?" Harry asked, watching as Snape charmed the Pensieve to levitate next to them.

"No, it is not required as it is highly recommended one does not do this alone," Snape said.

"How come?" Harry asked.

"It is possible to become lost in one's mindscape," Snape said. "As such, until you know your mindscape and have the skills to navigate on your own, you must not do this alone, understand?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir." He watched Snape pull his wand and begin to raise it to him. He was surprised that it didn't make him afraid or anxious to have Snape's wand pointed at him, especially in the context of Occlumency again, considering the previous year.

"There will be some pressure. Just relax," Snape said.

Harry nodded again and tensed just slightly as the man's wand tip came to rest against his temple. Snape began to whisper a string of Latin in a low voice and, as warned, a dull pressure appeared in his skull along with a tugging sensation at his temple. He winced at the feelings, but remained still and kept his breathing even to allow Snape to finish. It only took another minute or so, and Harry was watching a large whiteish-blue wispy ball attached to Snape's wand sink into the Pensieve. Harry turned to the Pensieve and looked at its surface. There was an image, but it was blurred and he couldn't identify anything.

"What will it be?" Harry asked.

"Everyone's is different," Snape said. "It is something that reflects the way your mind works and how you feel while simultaneously a safe place."

"What's yours?" Harry asked, looking up from the Pensieve.

Snape stared at him for several moments, obviously debating whether or not to reveal something Harry was starting to realize was personal.

"A labyrinth," Snape said eventually and Harry felt the man's magic tighten almost defensively. He gave another small nod, somehow understanding why Snape's mindscape would be a labyrinth; it made sense though he wasn't sure how, given how little he actually knew the man.

Harry turned back to the Pensieve, watching the swirls of blacks and greens and browns and blues that still didn't make a clear image. "You're coming with me?" He couldn't explain why he was nervous, why he was afraid.

"Yes," Snape said quietly.

The tightness of Snape's magic loosened, softening back to what it had been on the steps. Allowing himself to feel the magic, Harry took a deep breath and entered the Pensieve. He landed gently on his feet a few seconds later, Snape next to him, and gazed around. They were stood at the edge of a large lake surrounded by a forest, paths breaking up the trees. It was dark aside from the blue glow that tinted everything as though dripping with soft moonlight. He watched the constant circles rippling slowly across the lake's surface and spotted the coloured fog that seemed to sit at the end of the paths. His eyebrows furrowed as a green and black mist swirled around, creating a thin veil over much of the area.

"Fitting," Snape said and Harry's lips twitched, having felt the same about Snape's labyrinth.

"So, what does it all mean?" Harry asked, gesturing around the space. "The colours, the fog, the ripples?"

"That is up to you to discover," Snape said.

"What, like self-reflection or self-confrontation?" Harry said, looking at the many paths and their respective fogs.

Snape gave him a small smirk. "Something like that."

Harry huffed. "Should've just gone to bed," he grumbled.

Sighing at the amusement he could feel rolling off the professor, he began walking around the lake to the paths, Snape following. They walked up each path until they reached coloured fog that seemed to be acting as a barrier to whatever lay beyond. In each path, he reached out to the fog and it wrapped around him, swirling around his arm and up to his torso. Each gave muted feelings - happiness, pain, belonging, loneliness, fear, love, loss - telling him what was hidden behind the fog, the parts that made up his life.

"Why is the fog here?" Harry asked. "If this is where I process things, shouldn't all my memories just be...around?"

"In your mind, yes. When we do Occlumency, we will see your mindscape as it exists in your mind while in action," Snape said. "Here, as I said, emotional barriers are removed to allow for unobstructed objective exploration."

"Then, what's the green and black mist?" Harry asked, gesturing to the mist that could still be found everywhere, even drifting through the paths' fog barriers.

"Something that is a part of you," Snape said. "It seems to affect every part of you."

Harry frowned at the mist, brushing his hand through it and watching it wrap around his hand. "Remember the green strands we saw in my core?"

"I do," Snape said.

"This reminds me of that magic," Harry said. "Do you think they're connected?"

"It is possible," Snape said.

Harry sighed and dropped his hand, gazing around his forest again. He knew why his mindscape was a forest with a rippling lake. He was lost in a dark world that was so much larger than him with paths he couldn't take. He was drowning in the rippling despair that made his purpose, his future, his very life unclear.

"Do you understand your mindscape?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded with another small sigh. "More than I'd like, honestly."

Snape hummed and they left the Pensieve. Harry blinked at the sudden brightness, realizing they'd been in the Pensieve for at least a couple hours and morning had come. He rubbed his eyes aggressively under his glasses, the burn and ache having increased. He moved and collapsed on the bed, suddenly completely exhausted.

"Get some sleep, Potter," Snape said, putting the Pensieve back on the desk. "I will give some explanation for your absence."

Harry nodded and watched the professor walk to the door. Just as the man put his hand on the doorknob, Harry felt his anguish and loneliness from the steps flood back, heart and gut restricting painfully.

"Professor," Harry said and Snape looked at him. "Will you stay...just for a minute?"

Snape considered him for a moment, seeming to look for something, before turning away from the door. He waved his wand at the desk chair and it slid over to be beside the bed where Snape settled into it. Harry slipped under the blanket, ignoring the fact that he was still fully dressed, and pulled off his glasses. He didn't know what it was about Snape, couldn't explain it, but, in that moment, he felt safe and seen, and he drifted off.

A week later, Harry had just finished a duelling session with Snape and was in the kitchen with the twins, Charlie, Moody, and Kingsley, talking about the extra course options while eating the lunch Mrs. Weasley had made. Harry had been comforted to find that, despite Ron's continued anger and resentment and Hermione's quiet fear and disappointment, the rest of the Weasleys had not changed towards him. The twins constantly found reasons to talk to him and hang out whenever they weren't at their shop, and even Bill and Charlie had started interacting with him more. He was eternally grateful that they all did their best to talk to him about anything other than Sirius or Voldemort or the war, making him feel relatively normal for at least those moments spent with the redheads.

"I already knew I wanted to work with dragons so I was thrilled when I got Exotic Creature Care as an option," Charlie was explaining. "Not a common option, from what I understand. They brought in an actual magizoologist for the whole three of us that were in the course."

"What about you two?" Harry asked the twins, fascinated by the other options he hadn't received and so hadn't known about.

"Experimental Magic," they said together and Harry looked at them in surprise.

"Really?" Harry said in disbelief, making Fred and George chuckle.

"Mum was not pleased," Charlie said, taking a bite of his cucumber sandwich.

"She was not," Fred said.

"But, apparently, not everyone thought-" George said.

"-our passions were useless-" Fred continued.

"-namely Snape-"

"-and McGonagall-"

Harry blinked at those two particular professors apparently being supportive of the twins' chaotic ways.

"Or they just wanted you to be supervised so you didn't blow yourselves up in the bowels of Hogwarts," Charlie interrupted with a grin as the twins gave each other dramatically thoughtful looks.

"Dear brother makes a point," George said.

"That he does," Fred said with a nod.

"And we thought we'd gained their faith-" George said, tone getting more wistful.

"-their respect-" Fred said, echoing the tone.

"-but, alas-"

"-‘twas not to be-"

"-or ‘twas it?"

Harry glanced at Charlie who had rolled his eyes and met his with a grin while shaking his head.

"Could find out," Fred said.

"Could," George said, nodding.

"The dear sir resides here-" Fred said.

"And the good lady visits almost every day," George said.

"We could ask-"

"-inquire-"

"-interrogate if we must."

"Must we?" George said.

"We must," Fred said seriously.

Harry chuckled as Kingsley snorted and Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"Good luck with that," Charlie said deadpanned. "I will certainly enjoy the show."

"What about you, kid?" Kingsley said as the twins devolved into conspiratorial whispers. "Have you decided yet?"

"I've definitely decided on Animagus Training," Harry said, finishing off his chips. "I'm leaning towards Duelling for my second course, but I'm not sure yet."

"Why the hesitation, Potter?" Moody grumbled.

Harry went to explain, but was interrupted by an angry voice. He looked up with the others to watch Ron enter the kitchen and sit at the far end of the table.

"Could be because he's already getting special training from the bat," Ron said, glaring. "Or maybe because he knows he doesn't have to fight if he's got human shields."

"Watch yourself, boy," Moody growled.

"Why should I?" Ron said. "If we have to fight for him, I'd like to know how to fight. I'd like to live."

"Don't act like you're involved because of Harry," Charlie said.

"You've chosen this side-" Fred said.

"Because our family chose this side," George said.

"Didn't know it meant dying for him," Ron snapped. 

"We chose, Ron, and you chose to be his friend, to do everything you've done," Charlie said. "Harry didn't."

"Whatever," Ron said, turning his glare back to Harry. "Take all the special treatment you want. Nothing ever stopped you before."

"It's not special treatment. He's helping," Harry said, moving his own glare from Ron and sighing at the looks the others were giving him. "My core cracked from what happened at the Ministry and I've got excess magic. Snape's teaching me to control it and duelling helps exhaust it."

"Freak," Ron muttered only to yelp, a red welt appearing on his cheek. "What the hell?" he demanded angrily at Fred and George.

"What Mad-Eye said," Fred said.

"Watch yourself," George said.

Ron glared and, snatching an orange from the bowl, stormed from the kitchen. Harry sighed sadly, dropping his eyes to his empty plate.

"While not delivered in the best way, Ron could have a point about learning to fight," Kingsley said and Harry looked at the man curiously.

"Things will get worse before they get better," Charlie said, nodding in agreement.

"Duelling competition sound good to anyone else?" Kingsley said and Harry perked up.

"Sounds bloody brilliant," the twins said.

"And who're you ropin' into this, Shacklebolt?" Moody said.

"You, for one," Kingsley said with a grin as Moody grumbled. Harry glanced at the three Weasleys, immediately nervous about facing Moody and seeing the same expressions in them. "I'll ask around. With the amount of people here on a near daily basis, I'm sure we can make quite the competition."

"Can show us this new magic of yours," Moody said to Harry.

"But, that wouldn't be fair," Harry said.

"Sure it is," Charlie said with a shrug. "Learn to use what you've got."

"Fair doesn't exist in war, kid," Kingsley said.

Harry just sighed again.

It didn't take Harry long to realize he was in a vision and seeing through Voldemort. He'd had enough of them to know by then and he knew Voldemort had control over their connection now. Whatever was happening, he wanted Harry to see. Harry wanted to look around, but Voldemort was keeping his eyes down at the white bone wand laying across his lap. Harry could see movement just out of Voldemort's periphery and could feel the brush of magic as people - Death Eaters - arrived around him.

Harry turned inward, searching for a way to control the vision. Voldemort was learning more about their connection, maybe he should too. What else could he do, could they do? Maybe he could even find what the connection was. It was the key to everything, he knew that, but he just didn't understand how.

He looked around or did whatever the equivalent was while existing as just consciousness in someone else's mind. Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, if he was doing anything at all. He continued, though, trying to identify the edges of what constituted his consciousness within Voldemort's. He didn't know how long it took - time seemed different, suspended in a way - but he soon became aware of...something. It felt like Voldemort, the oppressive, dark magic, but it also felt like him, as though it were something shared between them, made of both of them. He reached for it, whatever it was, hoping to make it visible somehow, only to suddenly be looking at a large room filling with robed and masked Death Eaters. He blinked, trying to understand what he'd done. It seemed, somehow, he'd managed to separate his consciousness from Voldemort's, despite the entire vision coming from Voldemort.

He didn't understand, but pushed his confusion aside and gazed around to find out what was happening. They were in what seemed to be a huge ballroom made of white and black marble, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a throne-like chair on a raised platform at a far end of the room in front of a large fireplace occupied by Voldemort. Tall, black iron candle holders with twisted candles lit on top made a large circle around the room from one side of Voldemort to the other, enough space between each for someone to stand. As the Death Eaters arrived, they moved, taking up their spots in the circle.

Harry moved around slowly, trying to recognize anyone through the silver filigreed masks, not bothering to wonder how he was capable of moving in a vision created by Voldemort. He frowned as he felt a strange buzz when he approached each Death Eater, unsure what he was feeling or if it was even him; it could be something Voldemort felt while in proximity with his followers. He continued around the circle as it filled, finding a mask here and there that he recognized from the Ministry, his jaw tightening with each one. He froze and was filled with an all-consuming rage when he found the mask hiding Bellatrix. Her mask he would never forget.

He looked away from her as another Death Eater took their place a couple spaces away from Bellatrix, directly to Voldemort's right, briefly feeling a flash of very familiar magic alongside the buzz. He moved to stand in front of the Death Eater, gazing into the dark eyes of Snape through the mask. It wasn't the first time he was seeing Snape in a meeting, but it was the first time he was separated from seeing the man through Voldemort. It was different to see the man from this perspective without Voldemort's emotions impacting his.

Harry turned away from Snape as Voldemort rose from his throne and every Death Eater turned their heads in unison to look at their master. It was unsettling. It was looking at Voldemort that made Harry notice the two empty spaces in the circle to Voldemort's left and he wondered who was missing.

"Welcome, my friends, to a special and long-awaited evening, a cause for celebration," Voldemort said. "Tonight, we receive the first of the new generation. Lucius."

Harry whipped around as all the Death Eaters also turned to the opposite end of the room. The large, dark brown double doors swung open and a masked Death Eater walked in with Draco Malfoy beside him. Harry recognized Lucius' mask and stiffened again with anger from the Ministry. Draco was in a black suit, the darkness highlighting just how pale the teenager was. Harry could see the tightness, the strain in the blonde's face, could see the way the grey eyes darted around with clear fear. Dark circles sat under Draco's eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed with thick swallowing, and Harry spotted the tightly clenched fists just barely hiding the Slytherin's trembling. It all added up to something Harry had never seen before.

Draco Malfoy was terrified.

Harry watched as the two Malfoys walked across the circle and stopped in front of Voldemort. Lucius instantly bowed, but Draco took a few shaky seconds to follow.

"Is he ready, Lucius?" Voldemort said, and Lucius and Draco straightened.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius said.

"Take your place," Voldemort said and, with another bow, Lucius took the empty spot directly beside Voldemort on his left. "Draco Malfoy, our newest member and first legacy."

A murmur ran through the circle of Death Eaters as Draco tried not to flinch at being addressed. Harry couldn't help but frown at the other boy, odd emotions stirring deep within him.

"Draco," Voldemort said, taking a step closer to Draco who Harry saw stiffen. "Tonight, you join us. You will support our cause and eliminate any enemy that seeks to undo our work. Are you prepared to dedicate your life to the purity of the wizarding world?"

Harry watched Draco swallow hard, eyes darting again as though searching for a way out. Sufficiently trapped, Draco looked back at Voldemort.

"Yes." Draco's voice was barely audible.

"Let us begin," Voldemort said and Harry jumped at the movement around him. The candlelight turned lime-green and the Death Eaters began to kneel, raising their left arms and pulling back their sleeves to reveal the Dark Marks. Harry looked down at Snape who he was still next to, eyes drawn to the deep black skull and snake that was lightly waving across his skin.

"Kneel, Draco," Voldemort said.

Draco fell hard to his knees as though he couldn't fully control himself in his fear. Harry could see the shaking the blonde couldn't hide and felt a stirring in his gut at the Slytherin's very obvious terror.

"Your arm," Voldemort said.

Draco slowly raised his left arm, his trembling obvious now to everyone. Harry watched as Voldemort stepped even closer to Draco, immediately in front of the teenager now, and pulled a vial from his robes filled with something deep red in colour.

"Tonight, you join our great world order, pledging yourself to our future," Voldemort said. "Your father has failed repeatedly. It is up to you, Draco, to not only prove your worth, but the worth of the Malfoy name. Will you fulfil your assigned task no matter the cost?"

Harry frowned slightly, wondering what Draco's task was.

"Yes," Draco breathed.

Voldemort said nothing. He reached out and grasped Draco's raised arm around the wrist. Harry saw Draco flinch and frowned deeper when he felt the strange buzz increase. He looked down at Snape's arm, finding the Mark moving more insistently. He moved his eyes back to Voldemort and Draco just as Voldemort tilted the vial, pouring the red liquid onto Draco's bared forearm. Harry took a few steps forward so he could see what was happening.

Rather than dripping off Draco's arm as would be expected, the red liquid was moving around in thin ropes. Harry's eyes widened as the ropes settled into a familiar design: the Dark Mark. It glowed darkly against the pale skin, the green candlelight glinting off its shiny surface. Harry gasped and raised his own arm, shoving back his sleeve as he felt a sting in his forearm. He frowned, seeing nothing there, and looked back at Draco, confused. He watched as Voldemort pressed his wand to the center of the Mark and black tendrils leaked from its tip, moving to copy the design under the red liquid. 

Seconds later, the Mark began to glow a violent red and pain exploded across Harry's forearm. He cried out, hearing it echoed by Draco, and looked at his own arm again, only to still see nothing there. He looked back to Draco with wide eyes, seeing the red liquid sinking into Draco's arm, making the black tendrils more visible. Tears were in the blonde's eyes and he was clenching his jaw, obviously holding back pained cries.

Harry heard the smallest of groans next to him and looked down at Snape. He could just barely see the man's arm tremble and saw the Mark had become a darker, deeper black, if that was even possible, and was writhing on the skin. Glancing at all the other Marks he could see, he found the same thing happening with all of them. He looked back at Draco just in time to see the red liquid disappear into Draco's arm, leaving behind the black lines that made up the Dark Mark, the skull and snake writhing. Harry and Draco cried out together again as Draco's Mark flashed lime-green briefly, causing horrible pain in Harry's arm.

Draco was left with a brand new, pure black Dark Mark, the white skin around it an inflamed red. Draco was staring at it with huge, tear- and terror-filled grey eyes as he shook. Voldemort pulled his wand away and the circle of Death Eaters rose to their feet, making Harry jump again.

"Let us welcome our first legacy, the beginning of our future, to our ranks: Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said and another murmur rang through the circle. "Now, your task. You know the consequence for failure."

Draco finally looked away from his branded arm, gazing up at Voldemort in fear.

"Yes," Draco whispered.

"There is a Vanishing Cabinet-"

Harry didn't get to hear anything else as he was suddenly torn from the vision, pulled back to his bed in Grimmauld Place where he awoke sweating and breathing hard, his arm burning.   

Harry stared at his left forearm, the pain he'd felt in the vision lingering over the red skin that inexplicably made the faint design of the Dark Mark over the scar he still had from the graveyard a year earlier. He didn't understand how it was possible, how he had gained a ghost Mark from a vision. Voldemort had been able to curse him before, but nothing physical had ever been left behind. 

He sighed, still flooded with warring emotions over what he'd witnessed. He had never liked Malfoy, had figured it was only a matter of time before the Slytherin followed his father, but he couldn't erase the fear he'd seen in his rival. It had not been the face of someone who chose to be there and take that Mark. 

He rubbed his palm over the red skin, unable to work through his confusion and conflict in that moment. It was just too much and he couldn't do it alone.

He looked up when he heard the quiet steps coming up the stairs and pushed to his feet to rise from the floor as Snape came into view. The man was still in his Death Eater robes, but had removed the mask which was clutched in his hand at his side. When Snape realized Harry was outside his bedroom, he faltered briefly before clearly sighing and shaking his head.

"Go to bed, Potter," Snape said gruffly.

"Professor, I saw-"

Snape gave him an unimpressed glare. "I am well aware of what you saw. I was there, if you recall."

"I know, but this one-" Harry tried only to be interrupted again.

"Potter, just go to bed," Snape snapped, sounding annoyed. "I am in no mood to deal with you right now."

Harry blinked, unexplainably hurt, and took a few steps to the side, watching Snape open the bedroom door. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such a comment. Thus, it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way-in the way, a burden, an annoyance, an inconvenience, unwanted, unworthy of attention. Yet, this time felt different. The pang in his chest was different coming from Snape as the cause. He turned to leave the third floor as Snape began to enter the bedroom.

"Are you in pain?"

Harry stopped at the question and turned back to the professor, looking at him somewhat hesitantly. "Sir?"

"Are you in any pain?" Snape repeated, facing Harry as he stood in his bedroom doorway, having stopped from disappearing inside.

Harry rubbed his arm. "Um, no, not really."

Snape nodded. "Tomorrow, then. Tea in the library."

Harry looked at him in slight surprise.

"We will discuss what's happened this evening, but tomorrow," Snape pressed.

Harry nodded, understanding the man needed rest as he remembered just what Snape did. "Yes, sir."

With a look Harry didn't quite understand, Snape disappeared into his bedroom. More emotions added to the already existing swirling mess, Harry headed downstairs, bypassing Sirius' room and making his way to the kitchen. He pushed his magic out absently and lit one of the candles on the table before making it follow behind him as he opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a block of Lancashire cheese and let the door close as he grabbed a box of poppy seed sourdough biscuits and a cheese knife. He moved to the table and sat, placing his snack down and letting the candle settle back on the table. He cut off a small chunk of cheese and popped it in his mouth as he opened the box and pulled out the tray of black-spotted biscuits. He zoned out, lost in thought about Malfoy and the strange vision as he methodically cut off slices of cheese, placed them on biscuits, and ate each slowly.

"Harry?"

He was pulled from his musings by the voice and looked up to see Bill in the kitchen doorway.

"It's almost two a.m.," Bill said, walking into the kitchen and sitting across from Harry.

"You're awake," Harry pointed out.

Bill shrugged. "True," he agreed. "Any particular reason you are?"

"Vision," Harry replied shortly, popping another cheese and biscuit in his mouth.

"You still get those?" Bill asked, grabbing a biscuit for himself.

Harry nodded. "Just as nightmares again though. Voldemort's got control of that part of our connection, at least, so I see whatever he wants me to."

"What did he want you to see tonight?" 

Harry frowned at his tiny sandwich before answering. "Draco Malfoy's been Marked."

Bill sighed, swiping another biscuit. "That'll be the topic of tomorrow's meeting then. Severus has been waiting for this particular meeting."

Harry just nodded again, remembering learning about the possibility himself a few weeks earlier.

"Something wrong?"

"Aside from the fact that a sixteen-year-old just got the Dark Mark and I had to watch?" Harry said bitterly. "I hate him, but...he's only sixteen."

"He's made his choices, the way we all have."

"I don't think he chose this, not really," Harry replied and Bill looked at him curiously. "He was terrified."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Bill asked. "He may have been forced into the Mark?"

"Part of it, I guess." Harry bit into another little sandwich thoughtfully. "He's also been given a task."

"What kind of task?"

Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know. I woke up before I heard. The only thing I heard was something about a Vanishing Cabinet."

"Vanishing Cabinet?" Bill repeated, sounding surprised. "Those are pretty rare, especially to have an intact pair."

Harry ate a chunk of cheese. "What are they?"

"They're enchanted cabinets that connect and create a passage," Bill explained. "They can be used to travel between their locations."

Harry frowned, confused. "Why would Voldemort care about something like that?"

Bill just shrugged, snatching another biscuit, and Harry chewed slowly, wondering just what Malfoy had been tasked to do.

Harry propped his head on his hand as he slowly turned the page in his Magical Theory book, skimming for anything that could explain anything that had happened in last night's vision. Something was different in his connection to Voldemort and it was time he learned just why the connection existed in the first place. He slid his hand across his cheek and under his glasses, rubbing his eye. He was exhausted, having been unable to sleep much more after the vision. Between the residual pain, the ghost of a Dark Mark on his arm, and the whirlwind of conflicting emotions fighting for dominance within him, sleep had been the last thing his mind and body wanted.

"You said you were not in pain."

Harry dropped his hand and turned around at the voice, looking over the back of the lounge chair. Snape walked into the library, full tea tray floating in front of him and settling on the small table to Harry's left. Harry watched Snape settle in the other chair in his usual elegant way, crossing one leg over the other and looking for all that nothing had happened a mere twelve hours ago.

"I wasn't," Harry denied. "I'm not."

Snape looked at him over the cup of tea he was casually preparing with a raised eyebrow. Harry huffed at the man's near omnipotence.

"I'm fine. It's really not that bad. You needed to rest, not deal with me," Harry told him, dropping his eyes to his book and picking at the cover corner.

Snape hummed and took a sip of his tea. "Which was not meant to imply I did not want to."

Harry's eyes snapped back to the man in surprise and found Snape gazing at him steadily, a look in the dark eyes he was still coming to learn. He reached out with his Empathy Magic. Snape's magic was calm, warmer than it was sharp in that moment, but it was the emptions he could feel in the magic that were more astonishing. Concern he'd felt before, same with the puzzlement and exasperation bordering on annoyance, but the other emotion...not quite affection or even fondness, but it was in the realm and Harry had no idea what to think.

"Make your tea, Potter," Snape instructed lightly.

Still thrown off-guard, Harry put his book on the arm of his chair and proceeded to prepare a cup of tea. Once finished, he went to take a sip, but paused when a stray thought crossed his mind.

"This isn't dosed with Calming Draught, is it?" Harry accused and Snape looked at him unimpressed.

"I would thank you not to confuse me with the headmaster," Snape said dryly. "If I wanted to dose you, I would not hide it."

Harry snorted. "Right. You'd just pour it down my throat."

Snape didn't say anything, but Harry did feel a flutter of amusement join into Snape's magic. He took a drink and felt himself relax a little, making him wonder if just maybe Snape was lying.

"Now, last night, you were about to tell me this vision was different," Snape said, holding his teacup on his leg. "How so?"

Harry gaped at him. "How the hell do you know that's what I was going to say?"

"It is not difficult to fill in blanks," Snape replied casually. "Additionally, despite what occurred, a normal vision would not have had you sitting outside my bedroom at two in the morning."

Harry couldn't help but concede to the truth of the statement. He balanced his tea on the arm of the chair and stared into the liquid, tapping the cup lightly with a fingertip to create tiny, hypnotizing ripples. He thought back, remembering all the odd things this vision had presented.

"I separated from Voldemort," he started. "I wasn't stuck seeing through him. I felt something. It felt like both of us, like there was a spot in his mind where we joined, made of both our magic."

Snape took another drink of his tea and nodded thoughtfully. "We know the connection between you has a mental component. It is possible you found a physical representation of that component, so to speak."

"What could make this kind of connection?" Harry wondered. "It started as pain, but once he came back, the visions started. Now, it's changed again since the Ministry. What could even do all of that?"

Snape set his elbow on the chair arm and cradled his face in his fingers, holding his tea on his knee with one hand. "I am uncertain. Such a connection has never been heard of, to my knowledge."

Harry scowled down at his tea. "Neither had surviving the Killing Curse."

Snape continued as though he hadn't spoken. "What else was different?"

Harry hesitated, staring at his sleeve-covered arm and remembering the pain, the red Dark Mark. He frowned as his thoughts moved from his experience to Malfoy, remembering the fear that had shaken the Slytherin.

"Potter?"

"I felt it. When Malfoy was Marked, I felt it like I was being Marked too," Harry told him. "There was also...in the vision...but it was there when I woke up, for a little while..."

"Coherently, Potter," Snape drawled though there was no real bite to the tone.

Harry blew out a breath to calm his thoughts. "While Malfoy was being Marked, I felt it in my arm, and when I woke up there was a Dark Mark on my arm. It was there for about an hour."

He was startled at the alarm he felt in Snape's magic, making it sharp again, and when the man put his tea down to reach out for Harry's arm. He flinched automatically despite the grip on his wrist being gentle and watched his sleeve get pushed back, revealing a forearm bare aside from the ten-centimeter long scar. Harry watched as Snape brushed his thumb down the scar, getting a flash of himself in fake-Moody's office after the Third Task when Dumbledore forcibly showed the fresh wound to Crouch Junior. It was strange seeing the moment, himself, from Snape's perspective, having been so unaware of anything outside his own fear and pain and grief.

"It, um, it wasn't like an actual Mark," Harry tried to explain. "It was red, like I'd scratched myself, but without breaking the skin. Just red skin and it faded. Obviously."

"That is quite distressing," Snape murmured, releasing Harry's arm.

Harry snorted quietly. "I'd kind of hoped for something a little more reassuring or comforting."

"You have a house full of people to do that," Snape groused.

Harry took a sip of his tea and leaned his head on his hand again, gazing at Snape. "Somehow, I prefer this."

"Always happy to be of service to the Boy Who Lived," Snape sneered insincerely.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, right."

A brief silence fell as Harry rubbed his arm again, noticing Snape watching the action with the slightest furrow in his brow. He could feel the alarm that still had Snape's magic sharp and buzzing.

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked. "Am I connected to Dark Marks now?"

"Do you feel anything from mine now?" Harry was surprised when the professor rolled his sleeve back to reveal his Dark Mark. Snape didn't often allow his Mark to be seen, if ever.

Harry focused on it, pushing his different magics at it and even reaching out with his Mind Magic. He had to push past the man's magic, feeling something else just beyond it. It was a subtle feeling, meant to blend in so it wasn't noticed, allowing it to intertwine. There was a strange, dull buzz, almost like the Mark was recognizing something it knew. Snape's magic was twisted up in the buzz, but there was something else almost familiar, and Harry frowned.

"It doesn't hurt, but there's a buzz that I felt during the vision, too, and there's something familiar about it," Harry told him.

"You do have some of the Dark Lord's magic now," Snape theorized, pulling his sleeve back down. "I would imagine you are recognizing the same magic that created the Mark."

"Maybe. I dunno, it feels like more than that. According to Dumbledore, I've had some of Voldemort's magic in me all this time. Surely it would have reacted to your Mark before now."

"The Mark was not active until last year," Snape pointed out. "And now, in June, you joined with the Dark Lord. It is a dramatically different type of connection to be possessed. I can only imagine how that impacted any magic he had already transferred to you, let alone what he left behind."

Harry's forehead wrinkled, uneasy about Snape's theories.

"I would suggest research. You now own one of the darkest literature collections, after all."

Harry's eyes flickered along the book-lined walls at Snape's casual gesture, unsure how he felt about having a library of Dark Magic. He sighed quietly to himself and put his half-drunk tea on the table, rubbing his forehead.

"What does Malfoy have to do?" he wondered after a time of silence where he couldn't stop reaching for Snape's Mark to feel the odd, familiar magic that surrounded it.

"I do not believe that to be any of your business," Snape said and Harry scowled.

"Considering I was forced to be there, I'd have to disagree," Harry said tightly.

"I am not telling you so you can stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

Harry shook his head, irritated. "Have you ever considered that I stick my nose precisely where it belongs, but only because everyone else has decided I shouldn't know anything despite it usually affecting me somehow?"

"And how might Malfoy's task affect you?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me and we can figure it out?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Things are kept from you for a reason."

Harry glared. "Yeah, and we've seen how well that's gone in the past."

"Not everything is about you, Potter, and I would hope you've now learned from last year, given what happened."

Harry jumped to his feet, hands balled into fists. "Thanks for reminding me I'm a murderer."

"Potter-"

"No, I get it. You don't want to be the next one to die because I'm too stupid to think about anything," Harry snapped and stormed to the door. "I thought you were the one person in this bloody house that didn't blame me, that understood. You said you did."

He didn't wait for a response, didn't want to hear one. He left the library and sequestered himself in Sirius' room for the rest of the day where he stared at the photos of the Marauders and his parents with tears sitting in the corners of his eyes.

Harry threw the tome shut and chucked it over his knees to the other end of the sofa, watching it bounce on the cushion and land tented on its pages. He ran a hand roughly through his hair and gazed around the empty library. He exhaled harshly when his newly discarded book began to float and spin through the air, caught in the path of his agitated mood and magic. His magic had been acting up a lot the last few days as his mood spiraled and he refused training sessions. He'd pretended his new magic didn't exist, refusing to acknowledge how it had come to be and, by extension, ignoring whatever seemed to now connect him to, not only Voldemort, but the Death Eaters as well. Then, he'd had a strange dream with snakes and skulls and odd shapes in a black and green fog, and had to know what was wrong with him.

Thus, he was sat in the library, flipping through various books for answers to, well, anything.

He was watching the book fly around, letting his built-up magic wash over the library, when a pulse disturbed his flowing magic. He sat up with a curious frown as the heartbeat rippled through the room on the threads of his magic. The book he'd been levitating fell to the floor and his magic congregated together, seeming to be attracted to the heartbeat that continued pulsing. He stood slowly and followed his magic as it funneled towards a back corner of the library, the heartbeat stronger as he drew closer. He stared at the shelves of books, watching as his magic settled over the area like a shimmery film, like it was revealing something, narrowing his eyes as he spotted a green glow hidden under a huge, thick book. He pulled the book out, finding ‘R.A.B' inside a circle carved into the wooden shelf and glowing a deep, emerald green.

Brushing his fingers over the engraving, he jumped when the section of shelves swung in, revealing a dimly lit room. He glanced at the library door when he heard muffled voices before slipping into the secret room.

It was a small, rectangular room, looking more like storage than serving any other function. The floor and walls were the same dark wood as the rest of Grimmauld Place, contributing to the dimness. A single lantern with a single candle hung from the center of the ceiling, bathing the space in a soft orange light and casting strange shadows by the odd assortment of items scattered and stacked around. Piles of books, full burlap sacks, and various styles of chests filled the room.

Harry was distracted from his examination when the heartbeat pulsed again, this time including an audible beat and a tug on his magic. He followed the sound and pull, both growing stronger as he approached a chest made of black wood and dark blue paneling.

An incomprehensible whisper brushed his ear and he whipped around, looking for a source.

Finding himself alone, he turned back to the chest as his magic was tugged insistently, the heartbeat seeming to echo around him. He knelt in front of the chest and slowly opened the lid, revealing the contents. At first, all he saw was a black material. He pulled at it, sliding it from the chest and finding it to be a hooded cloak with absolutely no distinguishable features. As he removed it from the chest completely, something fell out of its folds. He was shocked to see a mask, one he recognized from the cemetery a year earlier. He picked it up gingerly, gazing at the bone-like design of the original Death Eater masks.

Frowning at the memories, he put the mask with the robe on the floor and continued digging through the chest. Other items seemed inconsequential: parchments, empty photo frames, school notebooks...

Then, he found a strange book. It was completely black-cover and page edges-with no images or text of any kind. He was about to flip through the curious book when another whisper twirled around him at the same time a hard heartbeat echoed, pulling his eyes to a small green and black box. His vision tunnelled, seeing nothing aside from that box. He dropped the book and slowly picked up the box, popping it open and allowing his eyes to fall on the necklace inside.

It was octagonal and silver with small etchings all along the edges. A snake was etched on the front, a layer of amber over top.

He picked it up off the black velvet, the long silver chain draping through his fingers. The pulsing beat loudly in his ears and the hissing whisper was audible.

‘One of us.'

Harry stroked his thumb over the amber surface, head tilting to the side as he stared, seeing nothing but that locket, hearing nothing but that whisper, feeling nothing but his heart beat in tandem with the pulsing. Everything outside his sense periphery was hazy, fading away from his awareness to leave just the locket.

‘Embrace your darkness.'

A flash of hot anger burst in his gut from nowhere, unclear memories of rage passing by.

‘Give in to us.'

The air was becoming thick and charged, magic rolling off him in hot waves. Images flashed before his eyes.

Exploding streetlights.

Shattering trinkets.

Desperate screaming with no sound.

Bodies falling dead.

Cracking glass.

The desire to die tingeing every image with determined despair and surrender.

‘Give in to us!'

"Potter!"

Harry blinked, falling back into himself. He looked around, momentarily confused about where he was. His heart was pounding hard and his magic was washing around the room, a harsh wind disturbing everything. He pulled it back in, frowning at the ache developing in his skull.

"Potter!" The shout was repeated. "You may be avoiding me, but Kingsley wants everyone outside. Now!"

Harry stared at the locket in his hand, his mind fuzzy as it tried to sink back into the locket's realm.

"POTTER!"

"Coming!"

Shoving the locket into his pocket, Harry left the secret room and hurried downstairs to avoid having Snape hunt him down, but a part of his mind remained wrapped up in that pocket.

Stepping into the backyard, Harry was surprised at the number of people milling around. Everyone who was staying at and regularly visiting Grimmauld Place was there, scattered around and chattering as they waited for the purpose of their congregation. Kingsley, Moody, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick were standing in a row facing the rest of them, waiting to ensure all of Grimmauld's residents had arrived. Behind them, two long stages had been set up horizontally parallel to each other and coloured in browns, yellows, and blues. To the right of the stages, a large chalkboard was floating, covered in scribbles that Harry could only assume was writing from his distance. Beyond the stages was a large hedge maze, the sight instantly dragging him back to that maze briefly. This one was big, but not nearly large enough to rival the Third Task's maze. Harry also knew better by that point. The maze didn't appear much larger than thirty meters across, but, he knew, upon entering, the maze would be infinitely larger.

As Harry brought his attention back to the waiting adults, his gaze was caught by Snape. He hadn't spoken to the man for a couple days, still hurt by their last interaction. He'd thought Snape was becoming someone he could rely on inexplicably, but, now, he wasn't so sure. Now, it seemed Snape was just like the rest of them, believing he was a useless child that had to sit and wait for instruction. He'd thought Snape was the one person that wasn't desperate to get rid of him, but, clearly, he was wrong.

A strange tremour ran up his spine and he rolled his neck at the odd tension left behind.

Uncomfortable under Snape's intense stare and tension still settling in his neck, Harry averted his eyes to look at Kingsley instead, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Everyone here?" Kingsley called out, looking around the yard. "Good. Now, listen up. Got an announcement."

The chatter quieted down and everyone turned to the Auror.

"It has been decided to take advantage of the mess that is the Ministry and prepare you," Moody grumbled.

"Meaning?" Ginny wondered.

"Meaning, magic is no longer being tracked and you can use magic this summer, so you are going to learn to fight," Kingsley replied with a grin. "Time for training camp, kids."

Harry found himself surprised at the proposition despite remembering Kingsley mention it a few days earlier, while simultaneously excited at the prospect of training with the Order. He glanced around as the others began muttering enthusiastically.

"Oh, realizing our lives matter after all?" Ron sneered, flashing a hateful glare at Harry who just stared back stonily, feeling slick tendrils dance up his neck. Almost everyone cast angry looks at Ron and awkward looks at Harry while Fred and George smacked Ron together in the back of his head.

"Beginning tomorrow, a duelling competition will be held amongst everyone and will progress over the remainder of the summer," McGonagall told them.

"Everyone except Molly and Arthur, of course," Kingsley added to the redheaded parents.

Mr. Weasley inclined his head, looking perfectly neutral or even supportive of the proposed training while Mrs. Weasley's lips were pursed and her eyes pinched, appearing to want to argue. Harry shook his head to himself. Mrs. Weasley was a lovely woman, but she was far too set on keeping them sheltered children, no matter their age or the things they experienced. She refused to acknowledge that they were involved in the war; it didn't matter that they were only sixteen. They certainly hadn't started this war, but they were likely the ones that would have to finish it, and she would need to accept that fact very soon.

"Everyone will duel each other once and, at the end, we will determine a winner," Flitwick continued.

"Any and all magic is acceptable except the Killing Curse," Snape told them and Harry caught the pointed looks from him, Kingsley, and Moody. He sighed, knowing he would be expected to use all his new magic. They and Charlie seemed excited about it, but he wasn't, not after Ron and Hermione's reactions. He'd seen how people responded to power, especially unexplainable power, and he knew he would lose more people as a result of his new magic.

Harry watched Hermione's hand shoot into the air as though they were in class. "Are you saying the other Unforgiveables are allowed and Dark Magic?"

"Yes," Snape said shortly, giving her his usual look of annoyance.

"But, they're illegal!" Hermione protested, aghast.

"Not anymore, kid, and no law is going to stop an enemy from using them against you," Moody said gruffly, leaning on his staff.

"And, with Severus, we have ample access to any necessary medical care," Kingsley added with a gesture in Snape's direction. 

Harry noticed the uncertain, distrustful looks sent at Snape by Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and even from Lupin. Interesting considering the werewolf had trusted Snape so much only a few years earlier and still did to brew his Wolfsbane, but apparently had issues trusting the man to provide medical attention to the house?

Hermione's face was still a twisted mix between sour protestation and appall. Harry shook his head again. Hermione was still afraid of all the wrong things, much like Mrs. Weasley.

"Now, practice and training will take place in the maze with whoever is here and willing each day," Moody continued.

"Wait, we're not expected to duel you, are we?" Ron asked, gesturing to all the professors and Aurors.

"We are all participants, Weasley," McGonagall replied with an arched brow.

Ron gaped, dumbfounded. "But...we have no chance! We're sixteen!"

"And it is extremely unlikely any opponent you face will be at your level," Kingsley pointed out. "They will all be older, stronger, faster, and more powerful."

Ron looked like he wanted to keep arguing and, glancing at Mrs. Weasley, Harry found her looking much the same. She clearly didn't approve of this competition.

"That is why you will learn to fight against superior fighters," Flitwick said. "We want you to have a chance out there."

"I know one way we'd all have a chance," Ron muttered darkly though still loud enough for Harry and the others to hear.

Harry narrowed his eyes, the tendrils sinking into him again and making him roll his tight shoulders. He watched Fred and George push Ron hard enough to make their brother fall to the ground.

"Either shut up or go back inside," Charlie snapped as Ron pushed himself to his feet. A muscle twitched in Ron's clenched jaw as he glared at his brothers and crossed his arms.

"We will also be arranging different conditions for you to duel in," Kingsley said, breaking the awkward silence. "The days won't often be bright and sunny when you fight."

"We strongly recommend you take this opportunity seriously," McGonagall told them. "We want you prepared for whatever you may face."

"But, we also want you to have fun," Kingsley added. "So, don't take it too seriously. Take the Duelling elective for that."

There was a small chuckle and then everyone dispersed, excited chatter among the younger generation of residents charging the air. Harry walked across the yard to the floating board, passing Ron and Hermione. Ron glared at him, one he returned, while Hermione looked unsure. He stared hard at Ron's back as the two returned to the house.

‘Yes,' a voice hissed in his head and he instantly put a hand in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the necklace. ‘Feel.'

A trickle running down his spine, Harry turned to the board to see what the first day of duels was like.

Day 1

Harry v. Bill

Minerva v. Severus

Ron v. Kingsley

Filius v. Tonks

Hermione v. George

Fleur v. Charlie

He was content with his first duel though he still worried about using his magic. He didn't want everyone else to be afraid.

‘They should be,' the voice hissed again. ‘They should fear what you are...what you can become...'

Harry's hand clenched around the necklace tightly.

"You have been avoiding me."

"It's not that big of a house," Harry said shortly, not looking away from the board even as he felt Snape stand a short distance behind him.

"You have experience."

Harry turned around then. "Probably because you've never given me reason not to avoid you. Unsurprisingly, that obviously hasn't changed."

With a glare, Harry turned away from Snape and walked over to the closest stage, hopping up to sit on its edge. He pulled one leg up to bend at the knee while his other dangled over the side. He pulled the necklace from his pocket and began turning it over in his hands, keeping it mostly hidden by his fingers.

"Potter, what do you want me to say?"

"Do you know why I went down that trapdoor? Or into the Chamber of Secrets? Or back in time with Hermione? Or in Dumbledore's Pensieve? Or yours? Or why I fought Umbridge?" Harry retorted, ignoring the man's question. "Hermione says it's because I have a ‘saving people thing'. Ron thinks it's because I like the attention. A lot like you, isn't he? You probably think it's because I'm an idiot that can't be bothered to think about anything and can't leave well enough alone because the rules don't apply to me. Maybe you're right, but I did all those things because not one person ever listened to me or told me a damn thing."

Snape said nothing, considering him oddly as he stood with his hands in his trouser pockets. Harry looked up at the man, eyes hard and face blank.

"I told McGonagall someone was after the philosopher's stone. I wanted to tell Dumbledore I was hearing that bloody snake, but he looked at me like there was already something wrong with me, like he was lying and did believe I was the one petrifying students. No one thought I had a right to know who Sirius was to me, regardless of if he wanted to kill me or not. Not one person tried to get me out of that tournament and when I told Dumbledore I'd had dreams about Voldemort, Pettigrew, and Crouch, he said they were only dreams and to ignore them. I tried to tell McGonagall what Umbridge was doing, but she told me to keep my head down. When I started having the visions, Dumbledore ignored me instead of telling me what was happening to me. I get possessed, Sirius dies, and Dumbledore decides to tell me the prophecy, but not exactly what it means for me. Something happens to my magic and, instead of telling me what, I get left in Privet Drive and told to get it under control," Harry ranted bitterly. "That's why I do the things I do, because I'm left to do them in the first place, but without a drop of trust or information. I hate not knowing because my entire life has been nothing but not knowing and, every time, someone gets hurt and that ends up on me. That's why I avoid you because, until you do something different, don't bother."

He kept his eyes on Snape's for a long moment before dropping them to the necklace hidden in his tightly clenched fist. He uncurled his fingers, finding a red indentation in his palm from the pendant. He didn't look up or react as Snape came to lean against the stage beside him.

"You asked me once what it was like when I was Marked," Snape said. "It was exhilarating."

Harry didn't say anything, closing his fingers around the pendant again and staring at the grass as he waited for more.

"Until I was eleven, I had little to no escape from my father. I had no one to tell. Lily knew, but she never told anyone else, never suggested a solution no matter how absurd. I expected as much. We were children, after all. What could children do?" Snape continued. "I assumed Hogwarts would provide that escape, maybe someone that could help. Instead, the pattern repeated itself and I spent an additional seven years belonging nowhere, and that bloody hat knew it."

Here, Harry finally looked up at the professor. "You were a hat stall?"

"Not in the same way. The hat wasn't torn between two Houses. It was rather silent during my Sorting," Snape replied. "It didn't know where I belonged...if I belonged."

Harry took in the tight, faraway expression before turning back to the grass.

"When I found the Death Eaters-or when they found me, depending on your perspective, I suppose-I was accepted in a way I'd never experienced before and everything I felt was validated though it likely should not have been. I was angry and bitter and hate for anything or anyone I deemed to have wronged me coloured my world," Snape said. "A stronger person would have let those wrongs go and become a better person. I, decidedly, did not do that. So, when I received this Mark, I received a place, no matter how wrong because for eighteen years I'd been ignored, battered, and left to myself in that misery. I saw no other way and I was given no other way, so I stopped looking for another way."

"So, if you did what you did for the same reason I have, why are you doing what everyone else does?" Harry asked. "Why are you keeping things from me?"

"Because I have seen what you do when you do have information, complete or not, and I do not want you putting yourself in danger," Snape told him.

"I don't matter!" Harry snapped.

"You do and not because of the prophecy," Snape snapped back and Harry looked at him with a slight frown. "You matter because you've been told you don't. I keep things from you because I don't want those things, this war and your role, to be the only reason you think you matter. I don't want you to act on information because you think you have to. I don't want you to think you are being ignored or left to perform some foolishly heroic act alone. I don't want you to think you are alone because you're not and you never have been. The right people just weren't there when you needed."

"Including you?" Harry said.

Snape gazed at him steadily. "Including me."

Harry sighed. "It's not the same as protecting me when you hide what I'm obviously involved in."

"It is when your reaction to such things is to leap into the bloody abyss without even trying to find a ledge."

"I'm always on a ledge, Professor, and people tend to push me off, telling me it's the way to go or leaving me to think it's the only way to go," Harry replied. "Like you and the Death Eaters."

"Well, I certainly don't want to be accused of pushing you off a ledge, metaphorical or not," Snape said with a hint of humour. "What would you propose?"

"Don't be like everyone else, not anymore, because I don't think you are," Harry told him. "I have to know what's going on because I can't keep living not knowing. You don't want me to think I'm alone? Fine, then don't make me feel alone. Tell me things. Treat me like Harry, not like the Chosen One. Hiding things makes me feel like nothing but the Chosen One because the Chosen One is only told what's needed based on everyone else's idea of what the Chosen One deserves to know. Tell me things because you think I deserve to know as Harry, a kid that's never deserved anything except a cupboard."

"You deserve more than a cupboard."

"Prove it."

Snape tilted his head almost curiously, searching for something in Harry though he had no idea what. "I will prove this if you prove to me that you can think before jumping."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Be the person that stops the jump then because no one else is going to."

Snape inclined his head. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Potter."

"'Harry'."

"When the occasion calls for it."

They both smirked at each other and eyes moved away. Both gazed around the now empty yard. A silence fell over them for a long while.

"You deserved more than the Death Eaters, too."

"I suppose we will never know."

"I know."

"How so?"

"Because you don't think you do."

Later that night, while the rest of the house slept, Harry remained wide awake. He lay in bed, staring through the dark at the necklace he held above him. Green ropes slithered through his fingers and around the pendant, but Harry hardly noticed, hypnotized by the silver octagon and snake set beneath the amber. There was something about it...he couldn't put it down, couldn't look away, couldn't put it from his mind. It was consuming, drew him into its depths, pulled at him in ways he couldn't explain. It was inviting, a darkness in which he belonged in ways he didn't understand.

He traced a finger over the engraved snake and rolled his head on his pillow the best he could, trying to roll his neck in response to the slick tendrils that slithered around his spine.

‘I see who you are.'

Who was he? He knew who he was according to everyone else: Potter, Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, fated saviour, James reincarnated. He knew who he wanted to be: just Harry, maybe someone's something. So, who was he?

‘I see what you are.'

What was he? He knew what he wasn't: brave, strong, smart, worthy, a saviour...happy...loved...wanted...

He dragged his fingertip along the pendant's edge, watching the amber glimmer under the green threads and not noticing the way the chain wrapped around his fingers tightened.

‘The darkness is where you belong.'

Was it? He certainly didn't belong anywhere else and he'd been in some kind of darkness for so long. Maybe the darkness, this darkness, was where he could find who he was. Maybe dark was what he was.

‘Give in...give up...'

Should he? The invisible tendrils sliding up and down his spine wrapped around his throat, making him roll his head again. The chain tightened some more, pinching his skin. The consuming darkness grew around him, inching him into its sweet depths.

‘You know you want to.'

Did he? He saw Ron's anger. He saw Hermione's fear. He saw Snape's hate. He saw Cedric fall. He saw Sirius float away.

"...neither can live while the other survives..."

"I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M DONE! I WANT IT TO END! JUST MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

He slipped a little further into the caressing darkness, tendrils around his neck and spine, chain cutting into his fingers, reasons to stay fading.

‘See what you are...see the darkness within...one of us...'

There was a tug and Harry sat up, feeling the need to follow the pendant's pull. He stood, continuing to stare at the necklace and following its guidance, the green strings reaching out ahead. The hallway was dark as was the library he crossed, coming to stand in front of the section of shelves that shimmered once again. He looked away from the pendant just long enough to pull the book out and trace his fingers over the carved ‘R.A.B' in the wood. As the shelves swung in, he slipped into the secret room. The air thrummed oddly and his shoulders tightened as he was pulled towards the items he'd left on the floor when he found the necklace.

He fell to his knees and instinctively grabbed the black tome.

‘See what you are...see us...'

He flipped the book open and spent the night's long hours reading about horcruxes. Tendrils slithered over him, the chain tightened on his fingers, the air thrummed around him, and his scar pulsed with a life he would soon learn was not his own.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he stared at Potter from the back door. The boy was sitting on the ground with his back against the closest stage and staring at something he held in his lap. It was a variation of the same position Severus had found the boy in all over the house in the last few days and, every time, it had him suspicious. His suspicion had started three days earlier, the day the duelling competition had been announced. He'd noticed the stiff stance, the rolling neck, the hard stares, and the tremour up the spine after a hand disappeared into a pocket. Then, when he'd reconciled with the boy, he'd noticed something in the Gryffindor's hands, noticed the way Potter gazed at whatever it was, transfixed, and held it reverently.

Since then, he'd watched and noticed more, and he'd seen enough to convince him something was very wrong. Considering it was Potter, and the boy was already borderline suicidal and absolutely depressed, he found himself uncharacteristically concerned.

He'd seen the way Potter always reached for whatever had taken up a near permanent residence in his pocket as though needing to confirm it was still there. He saw the way Potter's fingers clenched around it if he had it out and someone got a touch too close. He saw the frequent rolling of the neck and shoulders as though something were sinking into him. He saw the undereye circles getting darker and darker. He saw the control Potter had been building over his magic crack as he duelled. He saw the green eyes grow hard and dull, but occasionally flash with...something, something that honestly terrified him because he knew that flash, only he knew it in red eyes.

And he'd seen how no one else seemed to notice a damn thing about their precious hero.

Something was wrong with Potter and, whatever it was, was pulling the boy to a place he wasn't sure he'd be able to reach if too late.

As he watched the Gryffindor shift and begin to get to his feet, he resolved to do something. He headed upstairs and hid around a corner, keeping the boy's room and the library in view, the only rooms Potter seemed to occupy anymore, and waited. He didn't have to wait long before he heard footsteps on the stairs and Potter came into view. He waited until Potter had turned towards his room before leaving his hiding place. He grabbed the back of the boy's neck roughly and drove him forward, shoving the door open and then slamming it behind them.

"What the hell is your problem?" Potter demanded, wrenching from his grasp.

"Give it to me," Severus ordered. He saw a spark of recognition before it was covered with outrage.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Potter lied, even as his hand slid down into his pocket.

"Do not lie to me. Give it here."

Potter glowered at him. "Sod off, Snape. You don't get to act like you are anything but my bloody professor."

"Too bad for you because that is not your choice," Severus retorted and stepped towards the boy. "Now. Give it to me or I will take it."

Potter set his jaw and glared at him, magic beginning to vibrate the air. "Try it."

Magic filled the room, charging the air and making things shake. He saw that flash in the green eyes and narrowed his own, determining what to do. Potter was challenging him, but it wasn't Potter. Something had a hold on the boy and it was whatever was hidden in his pocket.

"I don't want to hurt you, Potter."

Potter's eyes flashed again. "You sure about that?"

Severus' eyes narrowed more and then he was being flooded with memories of every explosive interaction between the two of them, reminding him of Potter's new Legilimency abilities. He saw their fights, his own hateful aggression and Potter's hateful attitude. He saw the insults and the glares and the near assaults, some becoming physical on his shameful end. As he watched himself throw Potter around his office and the jar shatter against the wall millimeters from the boy's head, he found himself growing hot with hate and anger, the emotions coming from nowhere. He was certain they weren't his, at least, not the near instant severity, but they overwhelmed him and prevented him from exploring.

Vision red, he surged forward. His hands wrapped around Potter's throat and pushed him back until the boy was being slammed into a wall, hard enough the bedside table shook and the lamp crashed to the floor. Magic whipped around them with increasing violence, splitting wood, cracking glass, and leaving a deep gash on Severus' cheek. Potter's hands came up and grasped his wrists, neither of them registering the hard metal pressed between Potter's palm and Severus' arm.

‘Yes...feed...'

The low, hissing voice drifted through his consuming rage and his vision clouded by anger cleared just slightly, enough to focus on Potter's green eyes again. This time, when their eyes met, Severus wasn't sure what happened. He found himself pulled into a black abyss, something thick slithering around him. He felt heavy, lost, like he was sinking, and then the voice ghosted around him again.

‘Yes...come to us...give in...come where you belong...'

Severus was suddenly pulled from the strange darkness and was back in Potter's room, hands still around the boy's throat and the boy's around his wrists. He felt an odd stinging in his left arm and looked at it with a frown before moving his eyes up to Potter's hand, feeling something hard pressing into his wrist. His eyes darted back to Potter, realizing with dawning horror what he was doing. He took one hand from the boy's throat and began pulling at his hand to find what was concealed there.

"Don't!" Potter growled.

"What is it?" Severus demanded.

"It's mine!"

"It is controlling you!"

"No, everyone else is! It wants me!"

Severus stopped tearing at Potter's fingers and stared into the blazing green eyes. "I want you."

The memory of holding Potter as he broke on the front steps played in his mind.

"I want you," he repeated, realizing the truth in the words.

"Liar!" Potter cried, trying to pull his hand away from Severus.

As Potter tried to move his hand, Severus twisted his own arm to grab Potter's and pried the fingers open. He snatched the strange item from the boy's grasp, and stared at it in growing dread as he felt his Mark burn and something slick slide over his skin.

‘Let him go...let him come to us...give him to us...'

"Give it back!"

Severus turned just in time for magic and Potter to crash into him, sending them to the floor. The necklace fell from Severus' hand, clattering across the floor. Potter scurried after it, fingers closing around the pendant just as Severus roughly rolled him onto his back. Potter fought against him as he pinned the boy, prying at the clenched fingers once again.

"Get off of me!" Potter raged.

"Give it to me!" Severus ordered.

"No! I belong with them! It's what I deserve!"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's what I am!"

"Potter, let go!" Severus said, growing alarmed when he saw blood begin to drip from the fist.

"Let me go! I have to! I have to go! I have to die!"

‘No!'

"Why? Why do you have to die?"

Potter stopped shouting, his voice falling to a near sob. "It's inside me. He's inside me. I'm one of them."

Severus turned from Potter's hand and gazed at the boy when the fight left the Gryffindor suddenly. He grew limp aside from his grip on the necklace and his face was filled with despair.

"Let me go," Potter pleaded. "It's inside me. I can't live with it, I won't. Just let them have me."

Severus frowned. "What are you talking about? I'm not letting you go. I'm not letting you die."

"You have to."

"Why?"

"I'm one of them."

Before Severus could respond, the magic tearing through the room stopped. He looked around, confused, before looking back at Potter.

"Let me go like everyone else."

"No," Severus said firmly.

"Let me go," Potter repeated.

When the air around them began to vibrate and blood began to run from Potter's eyes as they grew distant and he began to release bloodcurdling screams, Severus realized exactly what was happening. He cursed and cradled Potter's face, blood immediately running over his fingers, and stared into the black and bloody green eyes.

"You do not get to give up," he muttered. "Legilimens."

He was pulled into the boy's forest though it was nothing like he'd seen before in their Occlumency lessons. The green mist that normally tinged the boy's mind was thick and vibrant, covering everything. Clouded memories and magic were whipping around, threatening to down the mental trees, though the magic all went in the same direction, disappearing into a black area that periodically flashed green, sending the same flash through the mist. Voices filled the area, one he recognized as Potter and the other the voice he'd heard before.

That voice was floating on the mist, echoing, ‘You know what you are...you know where you belong...give in to us...'

The other voice, Potter's, was screaming brokenly as it repeated, "I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M DONE! I WANT IT TO END! JUST MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

Severus looked around, trying to find Potter through the mist and magic. He could feel the agony tearing at the boy, both emotional from the memories and necklace, and physical from Potter attacking himself with his own magic. He finally spotted a figure at the edge of the lake and hurried over, roughly grabbing the Gryffindor by the shoulders and spinning the boy around to face him. His eyes widened at the sight he found. Potter's normally sparkling green eyes were red and blood was pouring from them, staining his pale cheeks. Potter was literally tearing at himself, trying to destroy something or kill himself, but something was holding on, refusing to die without bringing Potter with it.

"Get out," Potter mumbled, trying to pull from Severus' grasp. "Get out."

"Stop this," Severus said, cupping the boy's face regardless of the blood. "You'll kill yourself."

"Good!" Potter shouted. "I want it to stop! Make it stop!"

‘No...join us...be what you are..."

"Let me help you," Severus said, almost pleading.

"Then let me die!" Potter yelled. "I can't be this!"

"Be what?"

"I'm a horcrux!" Potter cried and blood poured over Severus' thumbs, down to drip off his wrists. The boy's eyes fell shut. "I'm a horcrux. He...he's inside me. All this time, he's been a part of me."

Severus stared at the crumbling, bloody child in front of him in shock as the magic around them grew stronger, attacking Potter - no, attacking Voldemort and, by extension, Potter - more violently. As horrifying and unbelievable as Potter's apparent discovery was, it suddenly made all manner of things from the last five years make sense. It also made a surge of anger wash through him, but he pushed it aside. He could explore the discoveries and address the anger after he saved Potter from himself.

"Potter, we can deal with this, but this isn't the way."

The boy's eyes slid open, revealing the red irises again, irises, he realized, belonged to the horcrux, to Voldemort, as the soul fought to live. Despite the irises not being his own, the eyes were still broken and filled with despair.

"Then how? I have to die anyway. Let me choose," Potter begged. "I can't do it anymore. I can't...I can't fight anymore. It'll take me. I don't want to become like him."

"You won't and you can fight. Show me that Gryffindor bravery and strength you've used to disrupt my peace for five years."

Potter actually released a small, choked laugh. "I can't be alone anymore."

"You're not. Let me help you."

"Why?"

Severus spoke without thinking, without filtering, the words leaving his mouth pure honesty for the first time in decades. "Because I do believe you have managed to insert yourself solidly into my life and I have no wish to remove you any longer."

As he stared into the boy's eyes, he watched the red flicker, giving way to the proper green. The blood trailing down his cheeks became a trickle. The magic settled and the screaming voice quieted. The green mist began to thin.

He continued, holding the restored green eyes. "Fight for me, Harry. I'll be here with you. Fight with me."

After several long moments, the Gryffindor finally whispered, "Okay."

Giving the boy a small smile, Severus pulled out of the broken mind and returned to the bedroom in Grimmauld Place. Some things were the same: they were still on the floor, he was still on top of the boy, he was still holding the blood-soaked face, and the necklace was still in the boy's hand. Other things had changed: the magic destroying the room had stopped, the Gryffindor was no longer screaming and was now unconscious, and there was pounding and shouting outside the bedroom door.

Severus pulled his hands, now drenched in blood, away and looked to the hand that had been clenched around the necklace. The fingers had loosened and he pushed them back, pulling the pendant away to reveal a severely burned palm in the shape of the octagonal pendant. As he held it, his forearm stung. Frowning at the necklace, he shoved it in his pocket just as the bedroom door flew open behind him and multiple voices cried out.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?"

"Severus!"

"What the hell have you done?"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Get off of him, you bastard!"

Severus found himself being yanked aggressively off the Gryffindor and pinned to the wall, Lupin's wand in his throat. He glowered at the wolf, but raised his bloody hands in surrender and watched the others. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Mrs. Weasley rushed into the room, and to the unconscious boy. The rest of the house's residents were crowded in the doorway, trying to get a view of what was happening. He was getting glares from the two youngest Weasleys, Granger, and Tonks while the remaining Weasleys, Delacour, Moody, and Kingsley were looking between him and the boy with worry and confusion.

He stared at Dumbledore stiffly as the old man rose and looked at him, eyes filled with disappointment.

"I trust you have an explanation, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"I do," Severus snapped. "Do you, Albus?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I just stopped the boy from killing himself because of something he discovered, something that I truly hope you did not know about."

"He's lying, Albus," Lupin growled. "You saw him on top of Harry. His hands are covered in Harry's blood!"

Severus snarled and shoved the man away. "Get the hell off me, you mangy beast."

"You son of a-"

Severus cut Lupin off, looking only at Dumbledore. "Tell me, Albus. Did you know the boy is a horcrux?"

A hush fell over the room and those in the hall. Severus kept his hard gaze on the headmaster, watching the stoicism cover all emotion.

"Come to my office, Severus," Dumbledore replied.

"Once I take care of the boy," Severus told him and Dumbledore inclined his head.

"Albus, you can't be serious!" Lupin protested.

"Severus is the only one with medical training to treat Harry," Dumbledore told the wolf.

"He's the one that hurt Harry!" Lupin shouted.

Severus rolled his eyes and sneered. "Shut up, Lupin. You have no idea what you're talking about, as usual."

"Look at what you did to him! You hate him so much to do this? He's a child!" Lupin yelled, pointing at the boy still on the floor.

"The only thing I did was protect him and notice anything was wrong with the boy in the first place. You're all too busy hating him or acting like he's perfectly well-adjusted despite everything he's been through and we've put on him because, yes, I agree, he is just a child!" Severus argued, his voice steadily rising.

"Don't you start acting like you care, Snape," Lupin ground out.

"Apparently I care a damn sight more than you," Severus snapped.

"Enough, Remus," Dumbledore interrupted. "Let us leave Severus to treat Harry. Come to my office when you are done, Severus."

Severus just nodded and pushed past Lupin to sweep over to the boy, McGonagall quickly stepping aside. He had to scowl at Mrs. Weasley to make her leave, Moody and McGonagall helping to herd everyone out of the room. He lifted the boy carefully and carried him over to the bed, finding Kingsley was still there.

"Is he alright?"

Severus summoned a cloth and dampened it, beginning to wipe away the blood coating the pale face. "I believe I stopped him from causing himself any permanent injury, but I cannot be sure."

There was no response, so he continued his treatment. He finished cleaning the blood before summoning a few potions to help with pain, sleep, and mental injury caused by magic, Burn Paste and bandages for the scorched hand, and Bruise Balm for the purple neck.

"A horcrux?" Kingsley questioned after the long silence. "Are you sure?"

"No, but it explains many things and it's what he said," Severus replied, nodding at the boy. "There must be some truth. He wouldn't just know about horcruxes, though I have no idea how he could have found out, where he learned of the cursed things at all."

"Not the important thing right now, Severus," Kingsley told him, walking into the room. "Find out if it's true. Find out if Dumbledore knew."

Severus looked up at the Auror, hesitant to leave the child despite his need for answers.

"I'll stay with him," Kingsley assured. "I'll send my Patronus if we need you. Go, find out what the bastard knows."

Surprised by Kingsley's apparent animosity towards the headmaster, something he hadn't seen from anyone in the house except Potter, Severus nodded. Kingsley repaired the desk chair that had been broken by Potter's magic and sat it next to the bed, settling into it. Severus gave the boy a long stare, fighting the strange impulse to brush back the messy hair or touch the cheek stained pink from the blood.

"He should remain asleep until dinner," Severus said unnecessarily.

Kingsley nodded. "Go."

Resisting the urge to touch the child in some way and swallowing thickly, Severus forced himself to leave. He headed downstairs only to find every Grimmauld occupant at the bottom, some glaring and some just worried.

"Don't worry, I saved your precious hero," he sneered. "Try to remember he's a boy though. That's who needs saving."

With a scowl at those glaring at him, he turned into the sitting room and Flooed to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was standing at the window, hands clasped behind his back, appearing so casual Severus had to scowl at the old man.

"How is Harry?"

Severus ignored the question. "Is it true? Is the boy a horcrux?"

There was a long pause and then Dumbledore turned, face grave.

"Yes. How did he find out?"

"How long have you known?" Severus ground out, still ignoring any of the man's questions.

Dumbledore sighed and returned to his desk, sitting down with his hands threaded on the desk. "I suspected after the Chamber of Secrets event and it was confirmed this past year."

"And when were you going to tell the boy?"

"When it was time."

"When it was time?" Severus raged. "And when was that going to be? When you wanted him to die?"

"I do not want him to die, but he is the key to Voldemort's destruction," Dumbledore said. "I was going to tell him when victory was assured."

"All this time. You've just been getting him ready to die," Severus said angrily. "Is this why you've wanted him isolated in his grief over Black and with knowledge of the prophecy? So he had no will to live? So he would happily die for you?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore protested.

"Well, you have managed just that," Severus snapped. "You have lost sight, Albus."

"I am trying to save us," Dumbledore argued.

"With a boy! He is a boy and you are condemning him to die!" Severus shouted.

"If there was any other way-"

"Have you looked?" Severus interrupted sharply.

Dumbledore gave him a tired look. "There is no other way."

Severus shook his head in denial. "I won't let him die. I won't let this be the only reason he matters."

Dumbledore's tired gaze turned piercing and curious. "Do you have another reason after all these years?"

Severus sneered again. "Turns out, I do, and my reason is going to keep him alive."

"Would you condemn us for him?"

"Unlike you, I'm willing to look for more than one answer," Severus said, "and I will find another answer, one that lets the boy live."

"Where did this sudden care come from?"

"From everyone else forgetting he is a damned child."

They stared at each other, trying to get more answers and trying to win the battle of wills.

"Now, anything else you have conveniently forgotten to mention?" Severus bit out.

There was a pause and a flash in the blue eyes that told Severus whatever response was coming was going to be a lie.

"No, nothing."

Severus narrowed his eyes, wishing he could use Legilimency on the old man. With a glare and a shake of his head, he returned to Grimmauld Place. He was glad no one was hovering at the stairs anymore and quickly hurried up to Black's old room. Kingsley was still there, reading a book as the boy slept, but looked up as Severus entered.

"It's true, isn't it?" Kingsley said, levitating his book to the fixed desk.

Severus looked tightly at the sleeping boy. "Yes."

"Poor kid," Kingsley muttered. "What do we do?"

"Find a way to remove it and keep him alive," Severus said. "Find the others."

Kingsley frowned. "Others?"

"I don't know how many or what they are, but there are others. Dumbledore's hiding them and Potter can connect with them. We destroy them, we kill the Dark Lord, and this entire nightmare ends."

"But we keep Harry alive."

Severus nodded.

"I'll see what I can do," Kingsley said. "Got some friends in Mysteries."

Severus looked at him. "Thank you."

"The kid deserves a real chance," Kingsley replied with a small smile. "Seems he could get it with you."

Kingsley left before Severus could respond, the bedroom door closing behind the Auror. Severus turned his gaze back to the boy and moved, sitting, not on the vacated chair, but on the edge of the bed. He watched the boy sleep for several minutes.

"How did we get here?" he murmured, picturing the last five years in contrast to the last four weeks. His eyes flicked to the boy's forehead, the scar visible through the messy hair. Impulsively, he reached out and brushed aside the dark hair. "I won't let you disappear. I'll let you be you. I'll let you be Harry."

He found he couldn't leave and he realized he didn't want to, so he stayed, watching the broken boy sleep and waiting to start putting him back together.

Harry rolled his head, feeling the soft pillow below him. He furrowed his eyebrows, even as his eyes remained closed, as he tried to remember...something. His mind was fuzzy, the sleep slowly leaving him. He started to open his eyes, but then squeezed them shut, frowning as the fuzziness began to morph into a dull throbbing. He raised a hand to rub his temple only for the throbbing to jump to white hot knives slicing through his skull. He choked on a gasp and both hands flew to his head. He curled his fingers, nails digging into his scalp, and let out a whimper. He ground his teeth, holding back a scream.

"Drink," a voice said, muffled by the excruciating pain making a bass throb in his ears. He flinched away from the cold glass that touched his lip and whimpered again at the jolt of pain the movement caused in his already imploding skull. "Drink, child," the voice repeated more insistently.

When the feel of glass returned, it did so with gentle fingers pulling his clenched jaw down. Bitter liquid poured into his mouth and he swallowed automatically as it flowed to the back of his throat.

"Just relax," the voice murmured. "The pain will ease in a few moments."

Harry let out a shuddering breath as he tried to take deep breaths, desperate for the relief he was promised. It seemed to take forever. He was about ready to believe he'd been lied to when the pain changed, lessened. Eventually, he was free of the agony and his hands dropped from his head as he sunk exhaustedly into his pillows. He jumped when something cold was settled on his face and tucked over his ears.

"Easy," the voice said gently and Harry finally cracked his eyes open, finding it was his glasses that had been placed on him. He found Snape next to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He frowned at the man's proximity and what he thought was worry in the normally stoic face. "How are you feeling?"

Harry focused on his body, feeling a strange sensation in his right hand. He lifted it, frowning at the bandages wrapped around his palm. As he stared blankly at his hand, the haze in his mind began to shift, allowing fractured, slow-moving memories to break through. His frown deepened as he remembered and he fought not to shudder as he became aware of what he could feel in the back of his mind. He winced at the familiar slithering around his spine and the whisper in his ear.

Long, pale fingers wrapped around his hand, pulling it down and breaking his stare. His eyes rose to Snape's, the slithering and whispering disappearing as their gazes met, as he recognized the concern he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before or, at least, not since Sirius.

"You're here," he said dumbly, watching their slow-motion interaction by the lake play in his mind.

Snape held his eyes oddly before looking down at Harry's hand that he still held, lifting the bandages to examine whatever wound lay beneath. "I said I would be."

"You called me Harry."

"The occasion called for it."

"You pushed me."

Snape dropped his hand and gave him a deadpanned look before snorting lightly. "Not for the first or last time, I'm sure."

Harry gave a half-smile of amusement.

"Now, how are you feeling?" Snape asked.

Harry's smile disappeared. "I can feel it, in my head. I feel him. He's been there all this time."

Snape sighed and nodded, and Harry became aware of the man's magic. It felt mostly the same except there was a dull throb he'd never felt before as well as the soft flutter of sympathy. Meeting the man's eyes, he watched the briefest flash of Snape carding fingers through his hair as he slept. He was stunned at the care he so rarely experienced and hadn't been sure Snape was capable of, particularly towards him. When the memory flash disappeared, Harry focused on the throb, cringing when doing so made the slithering and whispering return.

"I can hear it, the locket," Harry muttered. "You feel it. I can feel your Mark."

Snape sighed again. "There does appear to be a connection between the Mark and horcruxes. Given your various connections to the Dark Lord, you appear to have a further connection to the Dark Mark. The extent of that connection, however...I do not know."

Harry's face crumpled slightly and he rolled his head to stare at the ceiling. "You shouldn't have stopped me. All this time, it's all been my fault. I have to die."

"No," Snape argued sharply. "You do not have to die and you will not die."

Harry rolled his head again to glare at the professor. "No? Then, tell me, what do we do about the piece of Voldemort living inside me? You know, the thing that's kept the bastard alive all this time? The thing Dumbledore obviously knew about and agrees my death is the solution? What other options are there? How else do I fix what I've done?"

Snape's gaze turned piercing. "And what have you done?"

Harry sat up quickly, still glaring. "Everything! I kept him alive! I brought him back! Every single person that has been hurt, that has gone missing, that has died is because of me! You are trapped serving him because of me! Malfoy has been forced into a Mark under threat of death at sixteen because of me! Our world is crumbling because of me!" he yelled. "What haven't I done?"

"Turn into the Dark Lord and actually do all those things," Snape said pointedly.

"He is inside of me! How do I know what's me and what's him? What if that part of him in me is all I am?"

"You are you, Potter."

"Who am I? I have no idea who I am and this is why! I am a horcrux, his horcrux! I caused all of this!"

"Then explain this," Snape said sharply, pulling the necklace from his pocket and tossing it on the bed between Harry's legs. "The Dark Lord had a horcrux prior to that Halloween, meaning he would have survived and returned even without you. You are not to blame and you do not deserve to die."

"You're wrong!" Harry shouted, shoving the locket away to try and stop the whispering and slickness sliding along his spine. He felt tears begin to burn his eyes. "He's inside me. I can't be the reason he lives, the reason he wins. Even Dumbledore knows I have to die."

He felt the anger that flashed in the dark eyes ripple through the man's magic.

"You are not going to die," Snape repeated firmly.

Harry shook his head, tears nearly too much to hold back. "There's no other way. I can't live like this. I can't live knowing what I am."

"You can because we will find a way to destroy it without destroying you," Snape told him. "We will learn from the others."

Harry frowned. "Others?"

"I am convinced there are more than you and this locket. We will find them and we will learn from them," Snape replied.

Harry's frown turned into a curious, confused stare. "You keep saying ‘we'."

"I recall telling you to fight with me," Snape said, making Harry more confused at the man's apparent conviction. "I have no intention of going back on my word. Do you?"

"I don't..." Harry shook his head again and dropped his eyes, feeling his head spinning. "I don't know. I...I..."

"Harry."

He looked up at hearing his name from this man for only the second time ever.

"Fight with me," Snape said earnestly.

"For what?" Harry whispered, feeling on that ledge once more.

"For you. For me. Fight and I will help you get the life you deserve. Just do not give up," Snape told him.

A single tear fell down Harry's cheek as he gazed at the professor. "I don't know how much longer I can fight."

He was teetering, so terrified to fall, but so willing to go at the same time.

"We will do it together," Snape said. "Let me help you."

"Why?"

"Because you are everything you think you're not and I will not let this world erase that. I will not let you lose yourself before you can find who you are."

Harry stared at him, feeling more tears fall.

"Fight with me, child," Snape said with a hint of pleading Harry had never heard from the man before.

One step back, creating a tiny distance from the ledge. 

"If you stay with me," Harry murmured and Snape reached out to rest a hand on Harry's.

"To whatever end."

Harry huffed as he stared at the hedges. "I hate mazes," he grumbled. "Why did it have to be a maze?"

"The unknown of when and who you will face," Snape replied easily.

"You just want to be able to hex me without anyone knowing it was you," Harry sniped only to yelp at the sharp sting hitting the side of his neck. He glared at the man's raised eyebrow.

"I have no qualms about people knowing of my perfectly justified hexing," Snape said.

Harry snorted, rubbing his sore neck. "Justified, right," he scoffed. "This one better not try to eat me or have a Portkey in the middle." He shouted in protest again when a hand came up and swatted him upside the head.

"Idiot," Snape sniped.

"Bastard," Harry retorted.

"Behave, children," Kingsley said condescendingly while Fleur, the twins, and Charlie snickered around them.

"You have avoided using your magic long enough," Snape continued. "Training will resume and you will begin using your magic in your duels."

"Your goal today is to either identify all of us and defeat all of us or make it out of the maze without encountering any of us," Kingsley told him.

"Oh, is that all?" Harry said with a half-hearted sneer, rolling his eyes.

Kingsley just gave a lopsided grin. "You can only use your new magic."

"And how is this fair? It's six on one, you're an Auror, you're...you," he gestured somewhat aggressively at Snape who arched a brow again, "and you're all older than me. Honestly, it's the tournament all over again."

"Do stop whining," Snape said, earning a scowl. "Aside from the fact that your excess magic from the Dark Lord is ten times more powerful than any of our magic, you also have magic that gives you abilities we do not possess."

Harry huffed again. "Fine. Try to keep the torture to a minimum, yeah?"

"Avoid me or defeat me and it won't have to be a concern," Snape said casually.

"Right, just that easy," Harry griped.

Snape just smirked at him and quickly Apparated him to the center of the maze, Disapparating away just as quickly to leave Harry alone. As he waited for the sparks that would signal the others' readiness, his mind drifted to the previous evening.

After their conversation and Snape's promise, the man had remained by his side, summoning dinner for him from downstairs and keeping close watch for any complications from his attempt at magical mental suicide. The locket had been placed in a box and banished to Snape's room for a later date of examination. They had explored Harry's connection a bit more, determining what he could feel from Snape's Mark and finding Harry could feel the Mark's magic, the way it wrapped around Snape's and recognized the same magic in Harry. He could feel that part of himself reaching for Snape's Mark and the locket. They became certain there was far more to Harry's connection to the things created by Voldemort and agreed to explore it at another time.

The main thing Harry remembered and that drew his attention was Snape. The professor had been there like he said he would be and had made that promise, that promise that felt like it meant everything, that promise that had made him take that step back. He was sure the professor didn't even realize what he'd done to Harry with that promise, had no idea the way it echoed in Harry's mind, had no idea the way Harry looked for it in the man's magic. Snape had been there and had stayed there, the last thing Harry saw and felt when he fell asleep. Snape had been there, Snape and that promise, and, somehow, it hadn't seemed quite so dark anymore.

The green sparks flying into the air from six different directions interrupted his musing, telling him his training session had officially begun. He didn't move for a few moments, contemplating his strategy and reaching out to see if any of his opponents were nearby. He was certain he had no hope of escaping the maze without running into any of them, no matter how much Empathy Magic he used, but he was also certain he had no hope of defeating all of them either.

He blew out a short, harsh breath.

He was screwed.

Taking a deep breath, Harry approached the center's entrance and peeked around the hedges, reaching out with his magic again. It took a few seconds, but soon he felt the swirling magic of one of the twins. 

Their magic fascinated him. It was nearly identical in the way it felt, both a loose, swirling sensation, but he'd begun to notice the smallest difference which allowed him to differentiate between Fred and George. In Fred's magic, he could feel a light static that didn't exist in George's magic. He didn't know what it meant; he was still learning through his training and book on Magical Theory. The other thing that was different about their magic was the way he could feel it always reaching for each other and connecting. This concept was one he did know about. There was a rare instance in which a magic core was split between two people for various reasons and the two cores searched for each other. It was more often seen in siblings, but sometimes occurred in unrelated people. It was the basis for the soulmate legends, known as Magic Mates or Shared Cores.

He could tell George was nearby, likely just a few hedges away, so he went to the right towards the magic. Avoidance wasn't happening, so duelling it was. As he weaved through the hedges, he could feel George moving and also began to vaguely feel the fluttery magic he knew belonged to Fleur. He kept only a fraction of his attention on her; she wasn't too close.

At a fork, Harry could feel George down the right path which curved, blocking the view. He headed down the path and threw up a shield in seconds to block the hex George fired off. He pushed his magic at the hedges and vines reached out, grabbing for George who sliced his wand, cutting and burning the hedges.

"Thought you didn't want the maze to eat you?" George said with a grin as he cast a spell Harry read as a Blasting Curse. He dodged, letting it explode the hedge behind him.

"Yeah, me. Didn't say anything about you," Harry quipped, gathering the leafy debris and sending it to whip around George, the sticks and leaves scratching the redhead and blocking his vision.

George barked a laugh and cast a charm to blow the debris away, following it up with a Stunning Spell. Harry deflected, making the spell zip over George's shoulder. Despite knowing they were allowing any and all magic, he was still surprised when he read the Bone Breaking Curse George sent at him. He managed to block the curse and wrapped his magic around George's hand, squeezing in an attempt to make the twin drop his wand. He saw George wincing, but the older boy still managed to cast a few spells in succession, the Cutting Curse catching Harry in the side of the neck while the Stunning Spell and Tripping Jinx missed. Harry tightened his magic while sending more at the ground under George's feet. It began to quickly liquify and George was steadily pulled down. George's attention was divided between his sinking body and crushing hand, and, as he sunk to his chest, he unwillingly released his wand. Harry quickly pushed it just out of George's reach and stopped the pulling quicksand he'd created.

Harry laughed triumphantly and took off, leaving behind his spluttering friend.

He came upon Fleur and Fred together. Spell Reading in their duel became far more difficult, their spells coming faster and multiple at the same time. He found himself challenged trying to read multiple spells at the same time while also trying to respond. By the time he managed to stun Fred and restrain Fleur, he could feel exhaustion already beginning to set in.

Leaving them behind, he continued through the maze, searching for the magic of the remaining three. He could feel Snape-it seemed like he could always feel Snape-and could tell the man was quite a distance from him. He could also feel the Dark Mark's magic mixed with Snape's and could feel the way a part of him reached for it. He did his best to ignore the Mark, trying to focus solely on the feel of Snape's magic and on finding the others. It was hard. It was as though now he'd acknowledged the horcrux, it had come alive and any attention given to it or Snape's Mark made whatever connection existed strengthen, desperate for attention and control.

He pushed past the Mark and shoved the horcrux into its corner in his mind, and searched for other magic as he navigated aimlessly through the maze. He was winding through a spiral path when he became aware of Charlie, his magic like a strong wind or the feeling of air whipping around him when flying. It was warm, strong, and encompassing.

He was about to continue and find Charlie when he felt something behind him. There was more magic, a deep thrumming magic, and a spell was coming towards him. Reading the spell, he ducked swiftly, feeling it brush his hair as the Blood Boiling Curse flew over him. He spun around to face Kingsley, deflecting a strong spell he could tell was offensive and incapacitating, but he didn't know what it was specifically. He responded with a rope of thick black mist that he sent to wrap around Kingsley, slithering up the man's body and wrapping around his neck. Kingsley began shaking, but quickly dispersed the mist, cancelling its freezing, suffocating effects.

Harry was distracted from Kingsley's curse, despite it wrapping around him and feeling like his core was being squeezed, when the back of his shoulder exploded in pain. He felt his skin sizzle and threw his own fireball at Charlie who blocked it, making it explode across his invisible barrier. He was yanked to the ground by some invisible force and groaned at the impact. Whatever Kingsley had been doing ended only to be followed up by a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. As he twitched, ropes began wrapping around him.

Harry sent a hard blast at both Kingsley and Charlie, pushing both back and interrupting their spells. He threw up walls of a shimmering grey mist that encircled the both of them. The barriers pulsed with every spell that hit them, Kingsley and Charlie fighting to break his magical walls. He scrambled to his feet just in time to throw himself against one of the hedges to avoid the spells that shattered his barriers. Kingsley's blue spell that Harry could read as something painful and Charlie's Burning Spell collided, exploding into sparks that singed his face and hands, and melted the foliage around him.

When the Cruciatus hit him, Harry writhed into the hedge wall. It was only held for a few short seconds and Harry immediately became aware of Snape's magic before the man even stepped into view. He fought to respond to the three spells sent at him, reading a Cutting Curse, a Puncturing Hex, and a Muscle Tightening Hex.

"Hate that bloody spell," Harry grumbled as he blocked Snape's hex, dodged Kingsley's, and took the hit from Charlie's on his collarbone. He used his magic to try and tear Charlie's wand from his hand while attempting to temporarily blind Kingsley by clouding his vision. It left him open to Snape's curse which wrapped around him, leaving behind thin slices everywhere the invisible ropes touched.

Harry frowned when he began to feel a strange pulling unrelated to any of the magic he was casting or under. It didn't take long to realize the pull he was feeling was his horcrux and Snape's Mark reaching for each other. He tried to pull away, tried to prevent the magics meeting, but the pull to connect was stronger. 

At the same time Snape made to cast what Harry could tell was something Dark, Harry found himself suddenly somewhere else. He was somehow looking at himself, his eyes distant and glowing red. He felt the Dark Magic building and instinctively turned to Kingsley, seeing the curse hit the Auror in the chest. The man flew backwards and hit the ground, and Harry was back in his own body. 

He stumbled, falling against the hedge at his back and cancelling the magic he still had wrapped around Charlie's wand. 

Harry watched with wide eyes as Snape hurried over to Kingsley, pulling the Auror's shirt open and pressing his wand tip to the man's chest, undoing whatever damage had been done.

"Hey, you okay?"

He blinked dumbly at Charlie, mind racing as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"Professor," he said, gaining Snape's and Kingsley's attention, the Auror clearly fine. "I...I think I was in your mind. I think...I think I connected through your Mark and...I think I controlled you."

He and Snape stared at each other, each stunned by the new, unclear development.

Harry hissed at the pain in his shoulder and yanked away from Snape, spinning around to glare at the man. "Bloody hell, leave it alone!"

Snape grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around again to have access to the bared shoulder. "You are injured and it must be taken care of."

"Harry, you really should let him," Charlie interjected from his spot at the dining table. "I got you pretty good."

Harry pulled from Snape's grip again. "It's fine. I've been burned before. Deal with it later."

"We will not. We will deal with it now," Snape snapped, continuing to fight with Harry over which way he was facing.

"I'm pretty sure the whole connecting to your Dark Mark and controlling you thing is more important than a burn," Harry argued, struggling to make Snape release him.

"And I am ‘pretty sure' that, unless your horcrux and my Mark are about to disappear, it is a problem that will still be there in ten minutes," Snape argued back.

"So will the burn," Harry retorted.

"Except what happened between us is not something that can become infected and make you ill or kill you."

"You don't know that."

"Harry!" Snape snapped loudly and Harry stared at him, Kingsley and Charlie doing the same in shock at the man using Harry's first name. "We would have been done this by now. Stop being difficult."

Harry huffed and sat backwards in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning on the back. "You stop being difficult," he muttered petulantly, scowling at the snort he heard from Snape.

"Very mature," Snape said dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes and winced as his burned shoulder began to receive its much needed treatment. His arm was pulled from his shirt sleeve completely to give Snape full access to the wound which was cleansed with water before a paste was spread over it.

"I am sorry about that," Charlie said, nodding to Harry's shoulder.

"It's fine. Again, not the first time I've been burned," Harry dismissed before looking at the redhead. "Though, that dragon was supplied by you."

Charlie pinkened just slightly and smiled sheepishly. "Just doing what I was told. Though, tough luck getting the Horntail."

Harry scoffed. "Are you kidding? It's me. I was never going to get anything else." There was a sharp pain in his shoulder and he yelped unintentionally before shooting a scowl over his shoulder at Snape. "You're doing that on purpose."

Snape didn't say anything. He just raised an eyebrow and massaged more paste into the burn, clearly a bit more aggressively than necessary. Harry groaned.

"Gods, you're a bastard." He narrowed his eyes at Charlie and Kingsley when he noticed the two failing to hide grins of amusement. "Go to hell," he grumbled, pulling chuckles from Charlie and Kingsley, and he felt the humour dance in Snape's magic.

"Your magic is brilliant, by the way," Charlie said and Harry looked at him in surprise as Snape began applying a bandage to his shoulder. "Empathy Magic is amazing."

"And the power you have is remarkable," Kingsley added.

"Really?"

Charlie looked at him curiously. "What else would it be?"

Feeling Snape finish with his shoulder, he shrugged back into his sleeve. "Scary," he said shortly. "I've seen how people react to unexplainable magic or, at least, magic I'm not supposed to have, according to them."

"The world is full of morons," Snape said, leaning against the island dividing the kitchen and dining room with his arms crossed. "You have, unfortunately, encountered many of them and many of the extreme cases."

Harry glanced at him with a lopsided grin. "Thought I was one of them?"

Snape smirked at him. "Sometimes."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Can we deal with what happened now?"

"What did happen?" Kingsley asked.

"I don't really know except I connected to the Dark Mark. I can feel the magic of the horcrux and the Mark always reaching for each other," Harry told them. "I tried not to let them connect, but they were too strong."

"Such a connection is not unexpected," Snape said. "You host the Dark Lord's soul and magic, and I host his blood and magic."

Harry looked at the professor questioningly.

"You witnessed Draco Malfoy's Marking ceremony," Snape replied. "The Dark Lord's blood is used to create the Mark."

"So...what?" Harry said. "I can connect to anyone with a Mark now?"

"And control them?" Kingsley added.

"Is that what you did?" Charlie asked Harry.

"I don't know for sure, but I think so," Harry answered. "The spell was aimed at me and I turned to aim at Kingsley instead."

"What do you remember?" Kingsley asked, looking at Snape.

"I was not aware of any possession or other presence in my mind or body, but I also know I did not consciously choose to aim somewhere else," Snape explained. "We will have to explore the connection in more depth and both ends of it before we can make any determinations."

"How do we do that?" Harry wondered.

"Occlumency, experimentation, and copious amounts of research," Snape said matter-of-factly.

Harry groaned and dropped his head onto his folded arms on the table. He heard the others laugh again and Snape's magic continued to dance with amusement. He lifted his head and rested his chin on his arms when he heard a chair scrape across the floor.

"Well, I'm off. I still have actual employment," Kingsley said with a sigh as he stood. "Be ready for Saturday, kid."

Harry just copied the sigh at the reminder of their duel in two days as the Auror grinned and left to return to the Ministry. He'd done pretty well in his duels so far, only losing to Bill and McGonagall, but he was not looking forward to the coming weekend. He was scheduled to duel both Kingsley and Snape, and he'd already resigned himself to spectacular defeats. He had also resigned himself to having no choice but to use his new magic now, forced to risk frightening everyone else in the house.

"Come on, Potter."

Harry blinked, pulled from his musings, and turned to Snape and Charlie, the latter of whom was in the process of making a cup of tea while writing a letter with the items he had apparently summoned sometime in the last few minutes.

"What?" he said dumbly.

"Come," Snape repeated. "Let us examine this new development."

"What? Now?"

"You were quite insistent on exploring the event now."

Harry blew out a hard breath. "Fine."

Standing, he let Snape guide him upstairs and into his room. He kicked off his shoes and sat on his bed, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees while watching Snape pull the desk chair over.

"So, what are we doing?" Harry asked as Snape settled.

"We are going to examine the horcrux," Snape told him.

"Is that a good idea considering what happened with the locket?" Harry wondered, hesitant. "Or what just happened? What if I possess you again?"

"I do not believe you possessed me. It is the result of a magical connection. I believe it may be similar to your ability to see through the Dark Lord," Snape explained. "We will know more once we learn about your horcrux and my Mark."

Harry nodded, still nervous.

"I will be with you," Snape added in a gentler tone.

"What if he recognizes you?" Harry asked. "He can see through me, too, and he might be able to tell you're in my mind."

"It is a possibility," Snape admitted. "Something we will deal with should it come up."

Harry shook his head. "I won't be the reason you die. I can't kill someone else."

"I am a spy. If I die, that is the reason, not you," Snape said firmly. "Additionally, I am not leaving you to deal with this on your own and, besides, we apparently have a connection. Perhaps it can be used."

Harry considered the professor for several moments before finally nodding again.

"We are just going to look and determine what it appears to be capable of," Snape told him. "Relax. Do not attempt to Occlude. We want full access and need to know where the horcrux resides."

Harry took a deep breath and met Snape's eyes as the man's wand came up to touch his temple. The spell was muttered and they were pulled into his mind, back at the lake's edge in the forest. It had mostly returned to normal after the locket ordeal, the little coloured orbs looking like fireflies that were his thoughts and memories floating around. A light breeze was rustling the trees, indicating simmering emotion, and the green mist was still everywhere, mixing with the coloured mists in each path to and from which the corresponding orbs travelled. 

The main difference was the lake. It wasn't rippling as usual, but, instead, acting as a Pensieve and playing snippets of a memory. He watched with a deep furrow as Sirius fell through the veil, as he screamed himself hoarse while Lupin held him back, and as he destroyed Dumbledore's office, screaming his desire to die.

Harry glanced at Snape, finding the man also watching the memory with a frown of his own. When he automatically tried to reach out and feel Snape's magic only to be unable to, he realized how normal his Empathy Magic had apparently become to him. He used it instinctively and naturally, as though he'd always had the ability.

"It's been on my mind more since the locket," Harry told the man. "It, um, it brought up these kinds of things, used those emotions to make me do what it wanted."

"What did it want you to do?" Snape asked.

"Be angry. Hate. Hurt people," Harry said shortly, watching the memory replay again and again. "It used Sirius to convince me it was what I deserved because I killed him so I'm capable of what it wanted and am just like them...like him."

"And the suicide attempt?"

"That was me," Harry admitted, staring at himself screaming. "I wanted to die."

A hand came to rest on the back of his shoulder and he looked up at Snape again. He didn't need to feel Snape's magic to see the question not being vocalized.

"I don't want to right this second, but, yeah, I still do," Harry replied. "How could I not? I killed the only family I had left, the only person that actually cared about me."

"Potter--"

"What? I lost ‘Harry' privileges already?" he tried to joke.

Snape gave him a look of exasperation. "Harry," he said as though inconvenienced and Harry chuckled despite the serious moment. "You did not kill Black. It was not your fault."

Harry's smile vanished and he gazed at the man, pained. "No? Even if we forget about the whole horcrux thing, which is pretty hard to do, you're saying he wasn't there because of me? Because I let Voldemort in? Because I couldn't be bothered to do the one thing that would have saved him? Or remember that stupid mirror? You think he wouldn't still be here if it weren't for me?"

Snape considered him for a moment. "You made mistakes and those mistakes led to a terrible, dangerous situation in which others were harmed. That does not mean you are at fault."

"He was there because of me," Harry argued, "because I was stupid and--"

"A child," Snape interrupted. "A child with something we didn't understand."

Harry shook his head, still set in his denial and guilt. "I didn't try at Occlumency. I knew it could protect everyone, but I couldn't do it. Every time I had that dream, that vision, I watched. I knew I shouldn't, but I needed to see even though everyone was telling me to stop. I had to see, I had to know what was being kept from me. I didn't want them to stop and Sirius died because of it."

"That still does not make it your fault," Snape told him. "You made mistakes, but no one died by your hand."

Harry gazed at the man, feeling the words trying to penetrate his veil of grief, and had a thought. "Have you ever considered applying that to yourself with the prophecy and my mother?"

Snape blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You made mistakes that led to a situation where people died," Harry repeated the professor's words. "You didn't kill her."

"I am the reason the Dark Lord targeted her, targeted you," Snape argued stiffly, clearly uncomfortable.

"And I'm the reason Sirius was at the Ministry," Harry retorted. "You can't be at fault if I'm not. You can't have it both ways, Professor."

"Your mistake was in an effort to protect someone you love," Snape said. "Mine was to protect myself."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Does that matter?"

Snape furrowed his brow. "Shouldn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "You're the one trying to convince me I didn't kill the only thing I had in this world. You tell me."

Snape just stared at him and Harry couldn't help quirk a partial smile, semi-amused that he'd thrown the professor.

"Have I made you speechless?" he quipped, hoping to lift the atmosphere slightly. "Surely this is a first."

"You have never been around when I've learned of your ridiculous adventures," Snape replied dryly and Harry laughed.

"Sorry ‘bout that," Harry said, laughing again when Snape rolled his eyes and shoved Harry's shoulder to make him turn away from the lake and start walking through his mindscape.

"You really aren't," Snape grumbled.

Harry grinned, holding back a snicker, and continued leading the way through his mind, trying to find where the green mist was coming from. He could feel the emotion of every coloured memory that brushed by, but he kept his focus on the mist. It was a duller feeling, one that was seeping into every part of him, tingeing everything. He knew it was muted because of what he'd tried to do, almost as though it were hiding now to lull Harry back into a state of unawareness about what existed in him. If it could do that, it could try and take him again.

"Professor?"

Snape hummed in response.

Harry hesitated, wondering if he wanted an answer to this particular question. "The horcrux, the connection we have..." he trailed off for a few seconds. "Would it have ever been possible to block him? Was Occlumency ever possible?"

Snape was quiet for a while. "I do not know enough about horcruxes to say for certain, but it is possible that such a connection cannot be blocked. Not by regular Mind Magic means."

Harry chewed his lip, nodding slowly. He still wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Neither of them said anything else as they wandered the tree line where the green mist was thickest. He peered through the dense branches and leaves and bushes.

"There's a path here," Harry said, pushing aside a large, leafy branch to reveal a very narrow pathway. Gazing down the path, there was a nearly solid wall of the swirling green mist. He sighed, the heaviness of the horcrux far stronger now. "This is it."

Snape didn't say anything, but gently pressed him forward. They followed the small path, becoming surrounded by the green mist. Walking through the wall was cold and it thrummed around him like a low bass again, though, there was a pulsing that made him look at the professor. Snape had his left arm raised just slightly and the mist was wrapping around it lightly.

Harry frowned, but they continued through the fog until they were on the other side and his eyes widened.

It was as though they had stepped into a pitch black cave. It was an abyss, a void with no end. What sat in the center was far more of a concerning sight, however. There was a large lime green orb with dozens of sharp strands reaching into the darkness, creating the appearance of an ominous spiderweb.

Harry stepped closer, staring at the pulsing orb. He slowly circled it, passing through the strands and shuddering at the feeling of slickness each exuded. He paused in his circling when he noticed a thin wispy thread of gold attached to the orb and disappearing into the surrounding void. He looked closer only to notice a second strand, this one silver, twirled around the gold and also attached to both the green orb and the black nothingness. He frowned, lifting a hand to touch the two strings and watching them twist around his fingers, but their connection to the orb never broke.

"Professor?" Harry didn't look away from the magic, but Snape soon stood next to him. "What are they? Why are they attached to the horcrux?"

"Your magic." Snape pointed to the gold thread. "Your soul." He pointed to the silver one.

Harry looked at him sharply. "My soul?"

Snape nodded. "The horcrux has intertwined with every part of you, it would seem."

A jolt of fear and disgust coursed through him, but he was distracted by the tightness he heard in the man's voice. When he saw the smallest twitch in Snape's eye, he glanced down at the man's arm. A green rope had extended from the orb and was wrapped around the professor's left forearm, pulsing every few seconds. He turned back to the horcrux with another deep frown.

"I believe we have seen enough," Snape said.

Harry shook his head. "I need to know how far this goes. We need to know if it's just you, if it's just the locket."

"Potter, we don't know enough," Snape said.

"Which is why we're here, to find out," Harry said and he moved his hand until it was millimeters from the horcrux. He glanced at Snape. "Don't leave."

"Harry, don't!"

Harry pressed his palm to the orb and was sucked into its existence. In the first few moments, he seemed to be nowhere, but voices echoed around him and anger, hate, and fear flooded him.

"You look like him ... that filthy Muggle ..."

"The Muggle abandoned them, the child?"

"As they deserved."

"Who are you?"

"Hello, Father."

A sharp pain tore through his skull as the voices morphed into new ones.

"You won't tell anyone, will you, Tom?"

"Of course not, dear Hepzibah. I won't tell a soul."

Another pain and the voices changed again.

"Well, aren't you a handsome one?"

"Filthy Muggle."

Harry gritted his teeth as the pain continued and he listened to the new voices.

"'Ave you ‘eard the story ‘bout this place?"

"I have actually."

More pain and more voices.

"Not Harry! Take me!"

"Move aside!"

"Not my son! Harry, I love you."

Multiple voices overlapped as they shrieked and Harry couldn't stop from crying out with them as they deafened him and pain scorched him. He thought that was the end, but then it felt like he was being pulled, yanked somewhere far away. He was suddenly staring at a white, bony hand as it stroked along shining black and green scales before his eyes moved and he was staring at a sobbing woman levitating above the floor in front of him. He had no chance to understand what he'd just seen as he was pulled away again and suddenly looking at himself, a wand to his temple and a hand on his knee as he sat on his bed. Again, he didn't get to comprehend, pulled away for a third time and he was seeing a strangely shaped house. That view was there for a split second before he was gazing at a thin, pale arm, the white skin broken by the gleaming black skull and snake brand. A small, pale hand covered it and a tear hit the back of the hand before he was suddenly sucked away violently. 

For a second, he was back in his mind, looking at the horcrux again, but then it pulsed and he was thrown from his own mind. He drew in a gasping breath from the aggression and had to catch himself with his hands on the bed to stop from falling backwards. Snape had also pulled away from him sharply, breathing hard.

Harry's eyes darted around as he remembered, trying to understand. 

"Harry? Are you alright? What happened?"

He forced his eyes to focus on Snape who was looking at him with clear worry and Harry could feel it in the man's magic. He took a few moments to clear his thoughts, searching for anything intelligible that the professor could understand.

"I...I heard voices," he started, remembering the first bit after he touched the horcrux. "Then, I...I think...I think I just saw through multiple Death Eaters. Including Draco Malfoy."

Snape's eyes widened even as the man's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Mind Hunting."

Harry just stared, lost and overwhelmed by what had happened and what he didn't understand. He started to ask what the professor was talking about only for his scar to erupt with agony at the same time Snape hissed and grabbed his left forearm.

Harry ground his teeth and clawed at his forehead as he groaned, trying not to cry out in pain. The pain was continuous and excruciating, white hot knives carving at his skull. He was sure he was going to draw blood from digging his nails into his scalp. He felt a hand touch his arm, but he couldn't drop his hands or open his eyes.

"He's excited," Harry forced out through gritted teeth.

"Try to Occlude." Snape's voice sounded strained and muffled. "It will not stop the connection, but it may ease the pain."

Harry tried to do as he was told, tried to use the limited skill he had.

"I have to go. Keep trying and do not watch."

Harry forced his eyes open at the words and quickly grabbed Snape's sleeve before the man could leave the bed. "Don't. Don't go."

"I have to," Snape told him. "You know I have to."

Harry's eyes fluttered as another wave of agony washed through his head. "He...he has Trelawney. He's going to kill her. What if he kills you?"

"That will not happen," Snape dismissed. "He has no reason to suspect me."

"He could have seen you!" Harry argued. "I could have let him see you!"

"He did not see me," Snape insisted. "Even if he did, I know what I am doing and can give a plausible explanation."

Harry's grip on Snape and his own head tightened as Voldemort's insistence and excitement continued bleeding into him with increasing force, nearly ripping a whimper from him.

"You can't die," he whispered desperately.

"The only way I am dying tonight is if I do not answer this summons."

Harry blew out a shaky breath. "I...I can't...please, don't leave me. Everyone...everyone's left me."

He groaned again through the pain and the slick, swirling power he could now recognize as the horcrux. It was excited like Voldemort, excited at the like power being expended by Voldemort and rushing through Snape. It was strong and so far-reaching within him. He could feel the thin tether that lay between him and the horcrux. If he was alone, if no one stayed beside him, he would have nothing left except that horcrux and he would be nothing...he would belong to that horcrux, to Voldemort.

Fingers suddenly curled around his chin and lifted his head.

"Look at me," Snape commanded and Harry did so, his vision slightly blurred by both pain and tears. "I am going to go to this meeting. You will stay here and try to Occlude. You are not to watch anything that occurs. I will send Charlie up here to stay with you and, when I return, I will come check on you and then we will both get some sleep."

Harry tried to shake his head, but Snape held firm.

"I will return to you, child, trust me."

Harry stared at the man, the black eyes holding his intently while Snape's magic vibrated with all kinds of emotions; pain, concern, and...

No.

It wasn't possible. It had only been a month since that first summer interaction. Nothing could have changed, nothing could have become...

How could Snape...?

Could he possibly feel the same? He hadn't taken any time to think about it, to even recognize if it existed within him.

"Harry," Snape pressed.

Well, if that tightness in his chest, his heart, meant anything...

"Okay," Harry said quietly. "Okay."

Snape gazed at him for a few more moments before nodding and releasing Harry. "Do not watch. You do not need to see anything that is going to happen tonight. I will return as soon as possible."

And that was it. Snape was gone without another word and before Harry could say anything else. He listened to Snape's footsteps fade down the stairs before leaning on his knees and bowing his head, burying his fingers in his hair as he rode the waves of pain continuing to radiate through his skull.

"Harry?" he heard Charlie say moments later and heard the desk chair scrape the floor a little. "Do you need anything?"

Harry shook his head in his hands, breathing through the pain and trying to block it like Snape had begun teaching him.

"Severus said you're not seeing anything, so that's good," Charlie said, sounding concerned and lost about how to help. "Maybe just lie down. I'll get a cloth."

He heard the chair move again, but he paid it little attention. He was distracted by his own thoughts, by the reminder that he wasn't seeing...but, he needed to, he needed to see...and he could. He didn't understand, but he knew one thing: he could connect to Dark Marks, to the Death Eaters.

As he lifted his head, he was well aware of Snape's warnings about exploring his mindscape alone, particularly the deep dark place where the horcrux lived. He was perfectly well aware of the risks he was taking given he knew absolutely nothing about his apparent connection to the Dark Marks. However, he didn't care. Voldemort was too excited about something for him to not watch and, if Snape was wrong and he was going to die, Harry was going to see it happen so he knew what to do to Voldemort as revenge.

So, he closed his eyes, ignored Charlie's call of his name, and sunk into his mind, focusing on the horcrux's power which allowed him to land directly in that void-like space. He stared at the green orb, watching it pulse and throb with its own power and the power it knew was active that it so desperately wanted to join with. He felt the way the horcrux seeped out, hoping to encompass any part of Harry it could to absorb even more power.

Taking a deep breath, Harry focused on how he had connected to Snape, how it had felt to travel through the magic into the man, the way the Mark felt, and pressed his palm to the horcrux once again. The feeling of being pulled away returned with the slightest buzz at the edges, the buzz, he realized, he'd felt in the vision when he'd separated from Voldemort. Within seconds, the pulling stopped, and he was looking at a marble floor and the hem of dark robes as he gazed through the holes of a mask.

A sharp pain hit his head, but he ignored it.

As Snape rose from his greeting of Voldemort, Harry was able to see while Snape took his place to Voldemort's right. It was the same ballroom from when Malfoy had been Marked, and was filling with Death Eaters who bowed at Voldemort's feet and took their place in the forming circle. Snape's eyes flickered over every one, allowing Harry to do the same, spotting Malfoy standing between his mother and father to Voldemort's left. The blonde was sickly pale with eyes that were both wild and empty, dark circles under them, and tremours he tried but failed to hide wracked the thin body every couple minutes.

Harry through of that brief moment he'd been in Malfoy's mind, seeing the tear fall on the other boy's hand as he cried over his Mark. He frowned to himself, feeling some kind of way about his rival that was so clearly falling apart...not so different from himself. He frowned again, unsettled by the realization that he apparently had something in common with Draco Malfoy.

Snape's gaze moved away from the once-pristine blonde family, bringing Harry's eyes with him, and focused on the sobbing woman still levitating in the center of the Death Eater circle. Trelawney was invisibly bound and held on her back, head hanging so she looked at Voldemort upside down. Her huge, frizzy hair, usually a disaster on a normal day, was even worse now, full of mats and covered in grime and blood. It even looked like chunks were missing. Her face was just as dirty, making the tear tracks stand out starkly against the dirt and blood. Her robes were in tatters and she no longer had her comically thick glasses. It seemed like she had been in captivity for ages, but it wasn't possible. Snape and Dumbledore-and, by extension, the Order-would have known if Trelawney had been missing for any significant amount of time.

His eyes were brought to Voldemort by Snape as the madman rose from his throne.

"A joyous evening to gain vengeance and propel us forward," Voldemort announced, immediately enrapturing his audience of devoted followers. "Welcome our guest and thank her for her contributions to our cause and future."

He gestured to Trelawney who sobbed audibly again as the Death Eaters murmured and jeered quietly.

"This is the woman who foresaw my downfall, who spoke a prophecy that many believed tied me to a predetermined fate. I knew only a part of this supposed destiny and sought to cut this tie, a difficulty not knowing the full fate," Voldemort explained. "Thus, I pursued the prophecy through the boy only to be failed. And so, I chose to go to the source. I have pulled the full prophecy from her mind and I now know what it is about Harry Potter that is supposedly so special. I now know what to look for, what to extinguish."

Harry felt a jolt of fear at Voldemort knowing the whole prophecy. While it didn't say what power Harry had to destroy Voldemort, it said enough to convince Voldemort to discover that power and, as he said, extinguish it. Voldemort had something to focus on now, a purpose to their connection, though, he clearly didn't know about the horcrux in Harry. What would happen once he learned of the source of their connection?

"I must thank you for your contributions, my dear," Voldemort drawled as he stepped up to Trelawney. "Do not fret. Your death will have great value."

Harry's attention flicked briefly to the floor where Nagini appeared, slithering slowly around Voldemort's feet as though waiting for something. He frowned at her, but looked back at Voldemort and Trelawney with wide eyes as Voldemort raised his wand. Harry felt his own heart speed up as well as felt a waver in Snape's magic, fear and pain and regret rolling through the man. Harry's pounding heart clenched as Trelawney begged brokenly, reminding him so much of the previous year when Umbridge tried to get rid of her.

No, no, no, no...Harry chanted as Voldemort's wand pointed at Trelawney.

"Avada Kedavra!"

NO! Harry cried silently as the green light hit Trelawney and she fell silent, eyes empty. He jumped and flinched when a sharp pain sliced across him, feeling like he had been cut, and he realized Snape was automatically attacking what he perceived to be a mental intruder.

Harry shrunk away from Snape's defenses and turned his attention back to Voldemort, watching in puzzled horror as the monster waved his wand over and between himself and Trelawney's floating body. Nagini curled at Voldemort's feet. When a thread of soft blue and silver began to leave Trelawney's body and sink into the dense, smoky black ball that had left Voldemort, Harry desperately wished he could step forward, to see just what was happening. The green and red threads running through Voldemort's black ball pulsed and, with every pulse, a pain ripped through Harry's head and Trelawney's screams echoed in his ears.

He gritted his teeth to ride out the pain as he continued watching. Voldemort guided the pulsing orb down to Nagini and Harry stared, unable to look away as Nagini absorbed the orb. Her eyes flashed with a mixture of red and lime green as Voldemort's soul piece settled, creating a brand new horcrux. Harry shuddered at the familiar heavy, think slickness that slithered over him, the pieces of Voldemort's soul recognizing each other. Harry was suddenly terrified Voldemort would discover him there in Snape's mind, but he couldn't make himself leave as Trelawney's body fell to the floor in a heap, though he did have to close his eyes as Nagini slithered over to her and the snake's mouth opened wide, fangs bared.

"Severus," Voldemort said and Harry opened his eyes just as Snape moved to kneel before Voldemort again, head bowed. "You are all dismissed. Draco, await me outside. I have something special for you."

Forced to stare at the floor, Harry listened to the multiple footsteps on the marble that faded away as all the Death Eaters left, leaving Snape with Voldemort. It was uncomfortably silent, only the sounds of Snape breathing and Nagini hissing. Snape's magic fluttered with suppressed tension and fear, and, somehow, Harry knew this was how the man felt at every Death Eater meeting. He felt the loneliness-forced and self-imposed-that lined the magic and the far edges of the man's mind, the loneliness that had clearly defined his life and threatened to overwhelm him with every meeting, with every act he was required to do, every mask he was forced to wear.

"You have lied to me, Severus," Voldemort said, pulling Harry's attention away from Snape's magic. "You have been keeping things from me."

Alarm buzzed through Snape's magic and Harry listened, tense.

"My lord?" Snape queried in a tight voice forced to remain calm.

"You have been in the mind of Harry Potter and have kept it from me. I have recognized your magic in his mind," Voldemort clarified and Harry's heart sped up. "I am correct, am I not?"

"Yes, my lord," Snape admitted. "I was ordered by Dumbledore to teach the boy Occlumency."

"How long?"

"Four weeks."

"Of lies and secrets." Voldemort tutted condescendingly. "Crucio!"

Snape's magic immediately turned sharp, wanting to protect, but it was pushed down as Snape forced himself not to react. Harry fought not to scream as he endured the agony alongside Snape, something growing inside him he didn't recognize. He forced himself to push through the torture and focus on whatever was expanding in him, threatening to flood out of him. He reached for it and it overflowed, washing over and away from him, encompassing the place in which he resided and further. As it flowed through Snape, Harry realized the pain they were both in eased, dulling just enough to allow for clearer thought.

When a short, but pained roar escaped Voldemort, the torture ravaging him and Snape stopped, and Harry desperately wished Snape would look up, having no idea what had just happened. Snape's magic stopped fighting to protect against the curse and wrapped around Harry instead, turning electric with alarm and fury.

Potter! Snape's angry voice echoed around Harry.

"You will not lie to me again, Severus," Voldemort said, his tone low with subtle threat, and Snape had to turn away from Harry to survive his precarious situation.

"No, my lord," Snape replied. "You honour me with your generous forgiveness."

Harry cringed at the groveling, hating to see someone like Snape act in such a way.

"You are my most loyal, after all," Voldemort praised. "I also have a task for you that will utilize the fool's own task."

"Anything, my lord."

"Rise, Severus."

Finally, Harry was able to look at Voldemort as Snape stood and met Voldemort's red eyes. He prayed Voldemort didn't decide to Legilimize Snape. He would surely be discovered in the Potions Master's mind if that happened.

"You are to find something for me," Voldemort told him. "You see, when I possessed the boy, I saw something in his mind. I am convinced this is the power the prophecy speaks of and you are going to discover it for me."

Use this. Protect him.

Harry jumped at Snape's voice suddenly echoing around him again, but clearly not aimed at him. Snape was talking to himself.

"The boy has been resistant for he does not trust me," Snape explained and Harry frowned, confused about what the man was aiming for.

"Convince him otherwise," Voldemort retorted. "I must know this power he possesses. Let him believe you mean him no harm and, when you discover his power, bring him to me."

Like hell.

Harry's lips twitched at the man's thought, both amused and warmed by Snape's persistent protectiveness towards him.

"Yes, my lord," Snape agreed in stark contrast to his inner voice and bowing his head. "It will be done."

"Yes, it will," Voldemort murmured. "You know the consequences for failure."

"Yes, my lord."

"Dismissed. Do not fail me."

Snape turned on his heel and swept from the ballroom. Exiting, he paused very briefly to gaze at Draco Malfoy who was still pale and trembling. Harry felt a pull in his chest and a flutter in Snape's magic when the blonde raised red, teary eyes to meet Snape's dark ones. Harry remembered, then, that Voldemort was going to show Malfoy something, something Snape was being excluded from.

Needing to know what was being entrusted to Malfoy and not Snape, Harry quickly searched for the buzz of the Dark Marks, and reached out for the one coming from Malfoy that was reacting to both Snape's Mark and Harry's presence through the horcrux. As Snape began to walk again, Harry grabbed for Malfoy's Mark and drew in a sharp breath as he was yanked from Snape's mind, landing moments later in Malfoy's which was pulsing with absolute terror.

Please, help me. The words were the quietest of desperate whispers as he settled in Malfoy's agonized mind and Harry glanced at Snape's disappearing back. He winced when the stabbing pain in his head from earlier returned, but ignored it once again as Voldemort stepped out of the ballroom, joining Malfoy.

"Come along, Draco," Voldemort invited. "There is something I would like you to see."

Malfoy trailed silently behind Voldemort, led through his own manor. Harry managed to only catch glimpses of portraits, sconces, and other elitist décor hidden in the shadows of the dark corridors. They twisted and turned and weaved until they were in a far wing, pushing through a barred door on the far side of year another large, open room.

The stark change in the manor's appearance made Harry blink. They were descending a spiraling stone staircase, made narrow by the jagged, rocky walls, no quartz or marble or granite in sight. It was mostly dark, soft light from the occasional sconce lighting up only a couple steps at a time. At the bottom, they were in a long corridor, lined with bars that clearly made the fronts of cells.

Harry briefly wondered if the dungeon had always been a part of Malfoy Manor or if Voldemort had created it for himself when he took over the manor. Malfoy nervously glanced into each cell they passed, letting Harry see the lack of prisoners or, at least, the appearance of empty cells due to their darkness. Harry thought he heard quiet moans and groans and whimpers that belied the emptiness, each seeming to make Malfoy flinch.

He hissed at another carving sensation in his head just as Voldemort came to a stop in front of a cell, Malfoy following suit. Malfoy flinched violently when Voldemort laid a hand on his shoulder and pulled the blonde to stand in front of him, facing the cell bars. Harry once again wished he could take a step forward, straining to see through the darkness at the vague form he could just make out curled in a corner.

Voldemort's wand flicked in Malfoy's periphery and a torch lit up inside the cell, illuminating the unwilling occupant. Harry felt his heart clench at the sight and felt Malfoy's echoing emotions.

The prisoner was cowering and trembling, scrunched into a ball Harry didn't think possible for an adult man. His head was bowed, but tilted to rest against the stone wall. He had long blonde hair that was dirty, matted, and lank, hanging to conceal his face. His clothes were dirty and shredded, his thin, shaking hands and bare feet bloody.

"Let me tell you a story," Voldemort said, his voice uncomfortably light as though actually telling a fun children's story. "Seventeen years ago, I was in Albania searching for a remarkable artifact, a long-lost diadem. I found it at the same time I met a young woman."

Malfoy had stiffened as he listened while Harry tried to make connections as he gained information.

"Unfortunately, this young woman stole from me. She stole what belongs to me and brought it home to her family," Voldemort continued, tone growing harder. "You see, Draco. This woman was this man's wife and they had a daughter, a daughter I do believe you know."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, gazing at the prisoner and wondering who he was. If Malfoy knew the man's daughter, surely he knew them, too, but who were they and what would be so important about a diadem that Voldemort would go to such lengths to get it back after seventeen years?

"Luna Lovegood," Voldemort said and Harry's eyes widened, his heart stuttering. "Pandora died seven years ago, so I cannot make her return my property. Her dear daughter, however..."

Harry's heart was pounding as Malfoy's mind raced incomprehensibly around him and his breathing sped up. Luna...Voldemort had her father and was after her...Luna was in extraordinary danger. Suddenly, he remembered the third Death Eater he had travelled through, remembering the strange house and he realized...

Luna and her father had been attacked. Her father was here, but Luna...

"I have a second task for you, Draco," Voldemort said. "You will befriend the girl, and find out what she knows about my diadem and her mother's theft. Perhaps the daughter will be more cooperative than the father. Or, if not, bring her to me and I will use her to make her father talk. What is your daughter's life worth to you, Xenophilius?"

Harry and Malfoy jumped when the crumpled man suddenly jumped to his feet and rushed to the bars, gripping them as he stared at Malfoy and Voldemort with wild silvery-blue eyes-the same as Luna's-red from crying.

"Not my Luna! Please, spare her!" the man sobbed.

"Tell me what I want to know," Voldemort said almost flippantly.

Luna's father shook his head aggressively, his lanky hair flying around him. "I can't! I know nothing of what you are asking!"

"A pity your daughter seems to mean so little to you," Voldemort drawled uncaringly.

"No, please!" Xenophilius looked directly at Malfoy, pleadingly. "Please, dear boy! Do not hurt my daughter!"

Voldemort's hand tightened on Malfoy's shoulder. "Do what you must, Draco. Do you understand your task?"

"Y...yes, my...my lord," Malfoy stuttered quietly, fear overwhelming him.

Harry was unable to observe or listen any longer as the pain in his head exploded and he was torn from Malfoy's mind. He was thrown back into his own and back into reality, his head searing, heart pounding, and eyes blurred.

"I don't know what's wrong!" he heard the panicked voice of Charlie. "He's been like this for more than thirty minutes!"

Harry blinked vigorously, trying to clear his vision.

"Harry, are you alright? What the hell-" he heard Bill begin.

"Bloody hell, your scar is bleeding!" Charlie exclaimed.

Continuing to clear his vision so Bill and Charlie finally came into view, Harry reached up to his forehead and instantly felt the warm stickiness trickling down his head. He jumped slightly when Charlie pushed his hand away and started swiping a damp cloth across his forehead.

"What the hell just happened?" Bill asked. "You were completely unresponsive, your eyes were red, and now you're bleeding."

"Has this ever happened when there's been a Death Eater meeting before?" Charlie added.

"N...no, that's not...I..."

Then, the bedroom door flew open, slamming into the wall, permitting an enraged Snape.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Snape shouted furiously. "You are the most idiotic-"

"I needed to see what was happening! If you were going to die, I had to be there!" Harry yelled back, shoving Charlie away.

"I told you I was coming back!"

"Do you know how many promises I've been given?" Harry snapped loudly and angrily. "Do you know how many have been broken?"

They stared at each other, Snape still in his Death Eater robes and anger in his face, worry in his magic, and Harry heaving as his skull continued to be sliced to pieces. Bill and Charlie were standing to the side, looking between them with wide eyes at the shouting match.

"If you gentlemen could excuse us for a moment," Snape said to Bill and Charlie after several tense seconds, his voice calmer, but still tight.

They both nodded and Charlie handed the pinkened cloth to Harry who brought it to his forehead again as the redheads left, door closing behind them. Snape moved to round the foot of the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out to move the cloth so he could see what was happening with the famous scar.

"You do not understand the risks you took," Snape told him and Harry could hear the concern lying under the anger.

"Tell me about them later," Harry said dismissively, gaining a glare from the man. "Professor, the Lovegoods were attacked. Her father is a prisoner at Malfoy Manor, but Luna's not there. She needs help. Please, find her."

Snape's glare turned into a puzzled frown. "Potter, slow down. What are you talking about?"

"I saw him. Voldemort showed Malfoy. Professor, they're after her."

Harry watched as Snape and Dumbledore talked quietly, but intently in the dining room corner, his leg bouncing anxiously. He winced at the ache in his head that had been sharp, but was now a dull throbbing and he massaged his sensitive scar. He also rubbed his chest at the staticky feeling of his magic, feeling it jump in short, sharp bursts while simultaneously bouncing around all the other magic in the vicinity. His Empathy Magic was overwhelmed, desperate to read everyone and everything against his will. His Mind Magic was pulling fuzzy thoughts and images from others, adding to his already racing thoughts and pained scar. His excess magic was mixing with Voldemort's remnants and leaking out despite his efforts to hold it in, charging the air around him.

"Harry, are you alright?" Charlie asked from beside him, his hand coming to rest on Harry's back after twitching, obviously feeling the magic around Harry.

"Drink and calm down, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes at Snape's voice, finding a vial floating in front of him. He frowned at it and at Snape where he still stood with Dumbledore.

"You're levitating things, mate," George told him from a couple seats away at the table and Harry glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen where everything on the countertops was floating a few centimeters above. 

Harry sighed and swallowed the potion, grimacing at the Calming Draught's flavour. When the vial disappeared from his hand and was replaced with a block of wood, he glanced over at Snape again, finding a pointed look. Understanding, he wrestled with his excess-Voldemort magic mixture until it wrapped around the wood and began to carve away. He blew out a small breath as he gained a small amount of relief from at least one of the things flooding and overwhelming him.

As he absently created a new snake from the wood, Harry watched Snape and Dumbledore again, just barely managing to read the various emotions in their magic through everyone else's. Snape was going through waves of anger, annoyance, concern, and contemplation while Dumbledore...

Harry narrowed his eyes at the headmaster, trying to identify the strange emotions in the old man's magic that felt like huge, crashing waves. When Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry with absolutely no sign of their usual sparkle, Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Their strange exchange was interrupted by the sound of the front door and footsteps as Kingsley, Moody, Lupin, and Tonks entered the kitchen. Harry sat up straight and stared at the Order members intently, desperate for one of them to start talking as they whispered to the headmaster.

"Harry, thank you for making us aware of these events, but, please, excuse us and join your friends upstairs. We must have a meeting," Dumbledore said and Harry gaped, seeing agreement in, thankfully, only a couple other faces. All the others except Lupin and Mrs. Weasley were looking at Harry and Dumbledore with mixtures of surprise, confusion, and uncertainty. Clearly, everyone else in the room aside from those three thought Harry should be allowed to stay or at least hear some of what had just happened.

"You're mad if you think I'm leaving," Harry retorted with some disbelief at the headmaster's gall.

"Harry, you are not an Order member," Dumbledore argued condescendingly. "You are too young and we cannot risk-"

"What? Voldemort watching?" Harry snapped, glaring at Dumbledore and ignoring the flinches from everyone else. "And I'm not too young to be your damned saviour, am I? And, yes, I mean that quite literally."

"My boy-"

"No!" Harry interrupted sharply. "You want me to die for you, then stop treating me like a child. Tell me about Luna."

"Harry, listen to-" Lupin tried to interject placatingly and Harry shot the werewolf a withering glare.

"No, you listen. I am the only reason you knew about any of this at all," Harry snapped angrily. "Now, tell me what's happened to Luna."

"We found her," Kingsley stepped in, cutting off anymore attempts to dismiss Harry. "She was hurt, but not too severely. She managed to escape the attack and hide. The home, however, is gone. It was burned to the ground. There is nothing left."

"Where is she now?" Harry asked, his stomach twisting with anxiety over the Ravenclaw.

"Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur," Tonks replied. "It's an Order safe house."

"She'll stay there until school starts," Kingsley added.

Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and nodded in understanding and appreciation for being informed. He wasn't sure why he felt so worried about Luna aside from basic human decency. He'd only met her the previous year, but she had been a friend in ways no one else had been. She'd believed him, understood him, and given him a perspective he hadn't even realized he'd needed. She was something incredible and they were fools if they ignored that.

He met Dumbledore's hard gaze before the headmaster turned to the Order and gathered more quiet information. They were all dismissed a few minutes later and Harry watched them all leave except for Snape and Dumbledore. Still bleeding his magic into his forming snake, Harry sat back with his arms crossed and he stared at Dumbledore, jaw clenched.

"I was unaware you were still having visions," Dumbledore said, sounding unimpressed.

"Yeah, well, how would you considering you just dump me places and forget about me until convenient for you," Harry sneered.

"Harry-"

"Trust me, there's a lot of things you are unaware of," Harry taunted. "Sucks to be kept in the dark, doesn't it?"

He saw the warning look Snape sent him and he sighed. Dumbledore stared at him, hard and searching.

"It would seem we have a situation to figure out," Dumbledore said, switching focus, and Harry frowned, glancing at Snape when he felt the annoyance rumble in the man's magic. "It is concerning that Voldemort has gotten close to recognizing his horcrux in you."

Harry arched a judgmental eyebrow. "Oh, so, that's been a fun little fact just for you, has it?"

He saw a flash in Dumbledore's eyes that he was certain was suppressed anger.

"He cannot know of it, not yet."

Not yet? Harry narrowed his eyes at the headmaster again.

"As such," Dumbledore turned to Snape, "Severus, you will not follow this order and this...arrangement the two of you have had must come to an end."

Harry stared in angry disbelief while Snape looked suspiciously puzzled.

"Headmaster, he is expecting me to do this," Snape said guardedly. "The consequences for disobeying would be severe."

More like deadly, Harry thought sardonically as Dumbledore continued to look between them far too casually, as though he knew exactly how the conversation was going to go.

"It could be a trap, a way to test and discover your true loyalties. He could see you through Harry as he already has and who knows what else. We do not know the true extent of what Voldemort can do through Harry," Dumbledore told them.

Harry couldn't help but scowl again. "And whose fault is that?"

Snape gave him another pointed look while Dumbledore gazed at him with very clear annoyed disappointment.

"This between you cannot continue," Dumbledore continued. "Additionally, it is dangerous to encourage this magic of yours, my boy. We do not know what it is capable of, especially with the influence of a horcrux. It may be possible for Voldemort to use your magic, against you or someone else," Dumbledore said. "Do you really want to put others at risk? Again?"

Harry clenched his jaw and, despite being used on his wooden snake, his magic burst briefly and the teacup Mrs. Weasley had given him but he hadn't touched exploded. The cold tea flowed around the shattered porcelain pieces and off the table, dripping onto the floor as Harry stared into the steely blue eyes.

"Quite the concerning display," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands in front of him. "I believe it will be best for you to take Suppressant Potions. I'd hoped this would no longer be a problem, that you would have gained control, but apparently not. We cannot have you return to Hogwarts with such magic and lack of control. I cannot have the students at such risk."

Harry ground his teeth together so hard it hurt. "I don't think I'm the biggest threat to Hogwarts, Headmaster, or have you conveniently forgotten the madman tearing our world apart?"

Dumbledore heaved a quiet, but deep breath and Harry felt the anger growing stronger in the old man's magic. They stared at each other for a long while again, what remained of their relationship quickly turning to ash.

"These potions will suppress your magic and likely the horcrux as well. Voldemort will be unable to see the horcrux and any power it has will be locked away. You should be unable to feel it or interact with it, and it will be unable to consume you as it did the other day when you discovered it," Dumbledore explained, completely ignoring Harry's comment.

Harry's first thought was why this hadn't been an option before rather than throwing him into the torturous lessons with Snape and ignoring him until it got someone killed. His second thought was Dumbledore obviously didn't know about the locket and a quick glance at Snape told him to keep it between them. His final thought was complete outrage.

"You are completely mad if you believe for one second that I am taking any kind of Suppressant Potions. I am not hiding my magic; I'm going to use it. I'm handling it and I am doing so because of Professor Snape," Harry snapped. "You also lost the right to give a damn about anything to do with the horcrux when you chose to hide it from me and lied to me for damn near six years."

"Harry-"

Harry got to his feet, kicking away his chair aggressively. "No. You are done telling me what to do. You are done controlling my life. I am going to learn everything you've kept from me and I will fight my way. If he is willing, I am going to do this with Professor Snape because, somehow, he's apparently the only one that doesn't actually expect me to die or want me to and, I dunno, it sounds better than your alternative." He glowered at Dumbledore, clutching his wooden snake tightly in his fist. "If I die, I die, but it's not going to be because of or for you. Congratulations, Headmaster. You just lost yourself a personal saviour to sacrifice."

He stormed to the doorway, but paused and turned back to the two men. Dumbledore's eyes and magic were alight with anger, but Harry looked at Snape questioningly. He knew the loyalty Snape had to the headmaster, knew the Potions Master sought his long-held desperate desire for redemption through the old man's plans, but he also knew the promise Snape had made him. As Snape gazed back at him, he asked it silently. He wouldn't make the man do anything, wouldn't make Snape turn his back on the man that had offered him a way forward, wouldn't expect anything to truly change after their history, their dark lives, but he would ask. He would ask for that promise.

So, he stared and he waited, the question hanging silently between them. His Mind Magic picked up the swirling thoughts, allowing him to watch a younger Snape sob in despair as Dumbledore gazed at him with contempt and then as he himself sobbed in despair in Snape's arms. He felt the tremble of uncertainty in the man's magic. He just held the dark eyes until Snape turned to Dumbledore, the uncertainty turning to determination that made the magic spark instead of tremble.

"I told you I would find another way, Albus," Snape said and Harry straightened minutely, allowing himself to hope just slightly as his eyes flicked between the two men.

"Severus, the risks-"

"Are no different to those I have faced up to this point," Snape interrupted. "He is worth the risks."

Harry gazed at the professor in hesitant awe.

"You are losing sight of our greater good," Dumbledore said with a deep frown.

Snape's magic grew sharp with the protectiveness that was naturally a part of it and the Potions Master shook his head at Dumbledore slowly, his face tight. Harry watched the man walk over to him, stopping behind him and looking back at the headmaster.

"No, Albus," Snape said quietly. "I have simply decided on a different greater good."

"And your redemption?" Dumbledore queried and Harry glared at the old man.

"The one thing you were right about," Snape replied. "I will find it through him."

A hand came to rest on Harry's back, pushing just slightly, and, with one last glance at Dumbledore, he followed its guidance. With Snape behind him, they headed upstairs and into Harry's room silently. Harry was pushed gently onto the bed and Snape turned the discarded chair to face him, sitting. Still pushing magic into the snake he was turning over in his hands, Harry watched as Snape reached towards him and pushed his hair aside to examine his scar again.

"You can tell me about those risks now," Harry said lightly to break their silence and grinned at the dry look he received.

"Idiot," Snape muttered, dropping his hands and staring at him. "Did you at least think before jumping?"

"I did." Harry nodded. "Just probably not about what you would have wanted."

He snickered when Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling and muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Bloody imbecile of a Gryffindor." He dropped his eyes to his snake briefly, for a moment impressed by how detailed it was, before looking back up at Snape. The man looked exhausted and there were strain lines in his face that Harry knew were from hiding pain. It made him think back to all that had happened while he'd been in Snape's head during the meeting, remembering the pain he'd experienced alongside the man before...

"It is called Mind Hunting," Snape said and Harry looked up at him again, having not expected the professor to begin the conversation without any provocation. "It is a rare skill, a myth-"

Harry held up a hand to the professor and shook his head, seeing the raised eyebrow. "No, just no. Don't say it's a myth or a legend or rare or unheard of. I'm done being a freak."

Snape's lips curved into a small smirk full of amusement. "I have told you before that you are no freak, Potter. However, yes, it is considered a myth within Mind Magic."

Harry huffed and threw himself heavily against his pillow. "Fine. Tell me all about the nonexistent magical skill that I apparently have and no need to do it with such enthusiasm."

He scowled at the strong buzz in the air from the amusement in Snape's magic

"Do stop pouting," Snape drawled humourously and Harry rolled his eyes. "Now, it is true, Mind Hunting is considered a myth. It has only ever been thought of, never seen or experienced or achieved. It is said that with the correct connection, one could theoretically travel through the minds of anyone in possession of the connection. It is also said that whomever is capable of this could also control those they are able to travel through while also seeing inside their minds beyond any mental shields or barriers erected."

"So, are we saying that this mythical connection is the connection between my horcrux and anyone with a Dark Mark?" Harry questioned aloud, looking at Snape curiously.

"I can confirm nothing," Snape told him. "I know the concept, but in little detail and, obviously, I have no examples to compare."

"Is there any way for us to find out more?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded. "I have some literature on the myth I can study."

"What are the risks then?" 

"All assumed and of my own opinion based on what I do know of the myth and what we have now experienced," Snape replied. "You could easily be identified in one's mind which would be a danger on its own. It is possible you could get trapped in another's mind, breaking you from your own. It is even possible you could be followed back into your mind. The risk to your own mind is astronomical. Additionally, you clearly feel anything that is done to the person you are Hunting."

Harry scrunched his nose. "I hate the term. ‘Hunting' sounds...sinister."

"Most of the literature on the skill is also quite sinister," Snape pointed out. "It is not what one would call a Light bit of magic. However, speaking of that last point. You felt the Cruciatus I was under, but it seemed to ease in severity. What did you do?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "You're asking that like I have any idea what I'm doing in general."

Snape huffed at him. "I would not admit to your inability to think rationally."

"Eh, that's what I have you for," Harry said with mock dismissiveness and grinned at Snape's minor irritation. "Anyway, I don't really know. I felt some kind of what I assume was magic grow and then it just seemed to cover your mind where I was and you, I guess."

Snape gazed at him contemplatively. "It almost sounds as though you absorbed the Dark Lord's magic and returned it to him through your connection, taking the worst of the pain from me."

"I can protect you?" Harry asked, immediately wanting to use the ability as much as possible. Snape had done far more protecting than he ever should have had to; it was time he was protected as he risked his life.

Snape eyed him. "You are to do no such thing."

"But-"

"The risks, Potter," Snape interrupted. "If you are discovered in my mind and discovered protecting me using such a connection, I can only imagine what will be done to the both of us. You will not absorb anymore magic cast on me, understand?"

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek and gave a stiff nod. The stare he got told him Snape was under no illusions that he had made any real promise to obey, but, at least for the moment, he was willing to pretend. Harry was also willing to just pretend, quickly jumping to the next topic he had in mind.

"What about Malfoy?"

Snape looked at him, slightly confused and exasperated. "What about him?"

"He's going to die," Harry replied as though it were obvious. "He has two tasks and he can't complete them. We can't let him."

"You are not to interfere," Snape told him.

"He's been told to go after Luna," Harry argued. "I can't let anything happen to her."

"What is so important about Miss Lovegood?" Snape asked.

"Voldemort knew her mother ages ago. Apparently, her mother stole something from him, a diadem, and he wants it back. He thinks Luna or her father know something," Harry explained and Snape's eyebrows came together in thought. "Malfoy wants help."

"What do you mean?"

"When I went into his mind, I heard him. He is terrified and he wants help. He wants to ask you, but he doesn't know if you're loyal to Voldemort or not, and he doesn't know how without getting caught," Harry told him. "He doesn't want to do any of this, but, if he doesn't, he'll die. Voldemort will kill him."

Snape sighed and leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs and arms as he thought. "I am unsure what I can do."

"What about me?" Harry suggested. "Maybe I can help him. If I have this ability, this Mind Hunting, shouldn't I use it?"

"Not at the expense of your own safety and life," Snape said sternly. 

"So, I wait until we're at Hogwarts," Harry said quickly. "I talk to Malfoy there. I have to do something, Professor."

"You don't, actually."

"Luna was there for me last year," Harry told him. "I am not leaving her to this."

Snape sighed again, uncrossing his arms to rub his eyes. Harry glanced at the clock at the action, realizing it was nearly three in the morning.

"We will discuss this all another time after we learn more about," Snape blew out an uncharacteristically exhausted breath, "everything."

Sympathetic and recognizing his own exhaustion, Harry nodded. He waved his hand over himself to change his clothes to pajamas and squirmed around until he was under his blanket.

"Professor?" Harry said and Snape looked at him again. "Thank you for keeping your promise."

Snape gazed at him for several moments before his expression softened. "I said I would."

"It's easy to say you will, not so easy to actually do it," Harry countered. "You're the only one that's ever done it."

Snape stared at him again before clearing his throat as though uncomfortable. "You will need to settle your magic if you wish to sleep."

Harry nodded, and placed his newest snake and glasses on the nightstand.

"Honestly, what are you making?" Snape asked, examining the wooden reptile.

"You'll see," Harry replied with a grin as he closed his eyes.

"I assume you have been experiencing an abundance of others' thoughts."

Harry nodded once again.

"I want you to fill your mindscape with mist so you are unable to see anything," Snape instructed. "Submerge yourself in this mist. Allow it to hide everything, internal and external. Allow yourself to relax as it protects you."

Harry listened to Snape's low, calming voice as he sank into his mindscape. Everything was hyperactive; the orbs of his thoughts and memories racing around, trees were rustling with the aggressive wind of magic blowing, the lake was rippling almost violently, and the green mist of the horcrux was blanketing the area.

As he gazed around, Snape's voice continued to echo lightly, sounding distant, and he moved to sit at the water's edge. He crossed his legs and gazed at the rippling water as the horcrux slipped around him and his magic brushed through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he listened to the professor's gentle instruction and began to imagine the fog that often formed over the Black Lake and washed over the Hogwarts grounds, imagining the same thing happen in his forest.

There was a delay before anything happened, but, soon, the circles on the lake began to slow and a grey mist began to creep over the edges of the water. It swirled around, wafting across the ground to reach all the corners of his mind. He watched as it expanded outwards, rose into the air, and grew thick and dark. It encompassed all the thoughts and memories and images flying around, and swallowed the mist of the horcrux. Only the area immediately around him remained uncovered and he breathed deeply as everything calmed, quieting. 

Once his mindscape was nearly completely engulfed, Harry laid back on the grass and gazed up at the dark sky. There were no stars or moon, nothing to provide light. Yet, the longer he stared and the more relaxed he became, he began to notice something new. There, above him, was one small dot of light, shimmering in the surrounding dark. He gazed at it, feeling the protective mist around him and listening to the deep timber of Snape's voice still echoing distantly. As he relaxed, as he stared, the dot of light grew, casting a tiny stream of light down onto him. It warmed him where it touched and he realized...

He drifted off in that light, the light that had never before touched his life since he was a year old, and, as he did, he heard one final deep murmur.

"I will protect you and take care of you."

Harry chewed his lip and tapped his wand anxiously against his leg as he watched everyone move around from where he stood on one of the stages. Bill and Moody were standing on the other stage, talking quietly as they awaited the start to the duels. The rest of the house's residents were milling around to be the audience, making Harry nervous as he knew he was expected to use his magic now despite having his wand out. He was terrified to let others learn of his new abilities given some of the reactions he'd already received: Ron's anger, Hermione's fear, Dumbledore's desire to suppress. He couldn't handle losing anyone else; it'd been too much already. He was also worried about unintentionally connecting to Snape again. It was bad enough everyone would learn about his magic; they didn't need to know about his horcrux and connection to Dark Marks too. He would instantly be classified as a Dark wizard if they knew what he could do.

The thought made his eyes drift over the spectators to Snape who was talking to Kingsley, both nodding and gesturing. They only spoke for a few seconds before Kingsley left to walk up onto Harry's stage. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes at Kingsley's grin. The Auror was far too excited about their duel.

"Might as well put your wand away, kid, or I'll take it," Kingsley told him. "We want you using your other magic."

Harry huffed. "I'd really rather not."

"Knowing how to use it and using it could keep you alive," Kingsley pointed out.

"And when it terrifies people and they decide I need to be controlled or studied?" Harry countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Show them why they chose you to be their hero and why they're cowardly fools," Kingsley replied casually, shrugging.

Harry stared at Kingsley contemplatively as the man strolled to one end of the stage. Normally, he despised being reminded of his forced role of the wizarding world's hero, especially now after everything that had happened and everything he'd learned. Yet, even he had to admit, Kingsley had a good point. He'd been told what to be, but anytime he did anything to live up to that role, he was told it was wrong, that he was wrong. There were so many double standards placed on him as the Boy Who Lived, but that was who they had deemed him to be; he didn't choose it. They wanted a hero with the power to save them so that they didn't have to confront the choices they'd made that had led to the war now on the shoulders of teenagers. If they wanted an all-powerful hero, they didn't have the right to demonize that power. They'd run out of choices they were allowed to make for him.

He glanced down at his wand, chewing his cheek again, and slid it back into his wand holster from Moody. He immediately felt approval wash through both Kingsley's and Snape's magic, drawing his eyes to both of them.

"Duellists ready?" Tonks called up to them as she stepped between the stages.

With a deep breath, Harry moved to stand opposite Kingsley, Bill and Moody arranging themselves on their stage. He curled and uncurled his fists nervously, trying to use his limited Occlumency skills to block the anxious thoughts heavy on his mind so he could focus on his intent and control. He didn't want his emotions impacting his magic, not during a duel.

"Remember, anything goes except killing," Tonks told them and raised her wand above her head. Green sparks flew into the sky as she shouted, "Duel!"

Barriers rose around the stages, and Bill and Moody began before Tonks' sparks had even disappeared. Their first spells collided in midair, remnants ricocheting into the shield, making it shimmer under the impact. Their duel quickly devolved into brutal spells, fast movements, and sharp casting.

Harry and Kingsley, on the other hand, didn't react for several long seconds, gazing at each other to gauge the silent, internal decisions being made. Though Kingsley's magic had continued to thrum as it normally did, Harry still tensed in anticipation. He knew he shouldn't wait for Kingsley to act first, but he also wanted to read the Auror's magic so he could respond most effectively.

Then, Kingsley's magic began to change very subtly. It was still thrumming, low and deep, but it was also tightening. As the man's magic tightened, so too did his chest, his lungs very slowly restricting and cutting off each breath ever so slightly and sharply. He tried to read the spell being used, but it was so subtle in the larger magic, an intention beneath the natural thrum, that it was nearly hidden and he couldn't get a read. It was fascinating; he'd never experienced such a thing. He hadn't known it was possible to cast a spell without actually casting a spell, instead keeping it within the core magic to mask.

He was unable to continue contemplating as the squeezing got tighter and tighter, making his chest hitch with broken breaths. When spots began to appear in his vision, he gathered his own magic and imagined a bubble encasing Kingsley's core, breaking whatever hold the Auror had on him. He drew in a long, deep breath at the same time Kingsley's magic pulsed, shattering the orb around his core.

When a Burning Spell flew towards him, he sent a blast of neutral magic at it, making them collide and the Burning Spell careen into the barrier. They moved faster then, Kingsley sending rapid-fire spells and curses that Harry did his best to read and either dodge or respond to. It was an intense experience, Kingsley very clearly older with the experience of a hardened Auror and war veteran.

Harry eventually realized he was being far too defensive and heard Snape's words echo in his head: "Don't be afraid to hurt me ... you won't hurt me, not really."

He took a deep breath after wrapping red magic around the Blinding Hex Kingsley had sent at him and dissolving the spell. He gathered magic in his hands and formed it into a glittering black snake that began to slither across the stage towards the Auror. It started off around the size of Nagini, but when Kingsley sent a Blood Boiling Curse at him, Harry flooded the snake with magic and guided it to rear up. It opened its mouth and swallowed Kingsley's curse, making the man's eyes widen and he was sure he heard gasps from their audience. He ignored it and pushed his snake forward, making it race towards Kingsley who had turned his casting onto the glittery reptile only for the snake to swallow and absorb every spell that hit it. 

As his snake reached Kingsley, he guided it to shrink and begin wrapping around the man's leg, very slowly making its way up the Auror's body. So focused on his snake, Harry didn't notice Kingsley repeating his actions from earlier, casting while keeping the spell hidden in his magic. He gasped when he felt something wrapping around his body similar to how his snake was wrapping around Kingsley, only, whatever Kingsley had around him, Harry couldn't see and it began slicing through his clothes and skin as it moved. He ground his teeth together as the pain increased, blood slowly trickling down his arms, but he kept them raised, controlling his snake to rise up Kingsley's body. 

The snake circled around Kingsley's torso and came to drape around the man's shoulders. As it did, Harry poured more magic into the snake, this magic weaving through the snake in purple rivers. Kingsley twitched and Harry felt the invisible razors cutting into him stutter just slightly. 

For a few moments, nothing happened beyond small twitches from Kingsley and the man's razor continuing to cut into Harry's arms and torso, nearly bringing him to his knees as he shook. Then, Kingsley let out a shout and fell to his own knees, tremours beginning to wrack his body. Harry winced as a sharp pain stabbed his head before he saw the briefest flash of a woman dead on the ground and the faintest whisper of a tortured scream. 

Harry thought he could hear muttering from the watching crowd, but continued to ignore it, pushing magic into his snake and watching Kingsley bite back cries of some kind of pain. Harry thought he was on the edge of winning, shockingly, only for there to be a pulse in Kingsley's magic and Harry let out his own scream as it felt like a knife dug deep and sliced down his spine. He screamed and fell to his hands and knees. The sensation was replaced by a familiar Cruciatus and his fingernails dug into the wooden stage as he trembled violently under the torture. He forced his head up, trying to regain the full connection to his snake, only to find Kingsley also lifting his head despite his own shaking. Despite struggling through Harry's inflicted torture, the man was clearly still able to act and, with a crash of Kingsley's magic that was like a wave on rocks, the black snake exploded into sparkling dust that rained around them. Kingsley sliced his wand through the air and Harry found himself being flung backwards, landing hard on the edge of the stage. 

Harry made to roll over and respond only to find Kingsley's wand at his throat. He sighed and gazed up at the man who, while still shaking, was looking at him with a raised, questioning eyebrow. Harry raised his hands in surrender and Kingsley grinned.

There was no call to the end of their duel, not the way there had been with all the others. Harry looked around and found everyone staring at him, eyes wide and faces filled with varying emotions. He saw surprise in some, impression in others, but it was the anger, fear, and disgust that he saw in a few faces that caught his attention above all the others. 

"Alright, kid?" Kingsley asked quietly and Harry turned his eyes back to the man, finding a hand held out to him.

He took it, nodding, and was pulled to his feet. Once he was standing, it was as though that had been the cue for everyone to start shouting. Well, for Ron to start shouting.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron yelled, face twisted in anger and disgust. "I knew you had some kind of freak magic, but what the hell is your problem?"

Harry glanced at everyone, trying to gauge what they were all feelings. "I...I've got excess magic. My core is cracked."

"That was way more than just extra magic, Harry," Hermione chimed in, looking a bit frightened. "That was..."

"Dark is what that was!" Ron interrupted loudly.

"Don't act like you know what you're talking about, Ron!" Bill shouted back.

"You saw the same thing I did!" Ron argued. "You saw what he did!"

"You don't know what he did!" Charlie jumped in.

Harry held back from saying anything. If he explained what he had done to Kingsley, it would only reinforce Ron's opinion.

"It is certainly concerning," Lupin said and Harry looked at him, pained. "Certainly not something I've ever seen."

"He's mad!" Ron continued angrily. "He was torturing Kingsley!"

"He wasn't actually," Kingsley pointed out. "It was Memory Magic. He made me relive a painful memory and I felt what I felt then, but nothing was actually being done to me physically."

"Oh my," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding worried. "That doesn't sound like something a young boy should be doing or able to do."

"We need to talk to Albus," Lupin said.

"Oh, shut up, wolf," Snape sneered. "The boy is powerful, we already knew that."

"Powerful, yeah, but that..." Ron pointed aggressively at Harry and Kingsley, "that was Dark. Guess he's learning from the best." The redhead glared at Snape, receiving a glower in response.

"You don't know what Dark is, Ron!" Fred yelled.

"How can we be sure you can control this, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I've read about excess magic. It is remarkably unpredictable."

"I've got it figured out," Harry said quietly, almost mumbling.

"You're a freak and he's going Dark. We can't trust him," Ron growled and Harry was shocked when Charlie threw a fist, catching his little brother in the jaw and sending Ron to the ground. "The hell, Charlie?"

"You don't get to say a thing about trust," Charlie said, "not after how you're treating your supposed best friend."

"I don't make friends with Dark wizards," Ron snapped, rubbing his jaw that Harry could see was already starting to bruise.

"Then you're going to live a very lonely life because the world is filled with Dark wizards because we're all a little Dark," George replied.

Ron pushed himself to his feet and glared at his brothers, all of them facing Ron with glowers of their own as they stood between their brother and Harry still on the stage with Kingsley. 

"He'll get you killed if he doesn't do it himself," Ron sniped.

"The world's not that simple," Bill replied.

With a final hate-filled glare at Harry, Ron stormed away into the house, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley hurrying after him. Harry sighed, shaking his head at their reactions. When Lupin cast him an unsure look as the werewolf passed, Harry's heart clenched. No one else said anything as they all moved back into Number Twelve, leaving Harry with Kingsley and Snape in the backyard.

Hurt, Harry dropped himself down to sit on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the side, and he stared down at the grass. He heard Kingsley's footsteps on the stage, heading away, and then heard rustling and crunching grass before the man's robes came back into his peripheral view. When the Auror began moving his torn sleeve to look at the injuries, Harry pulled his arm out of the man's grasp, receiving a sigh.

"I'm not leaving you like this," Kingsley told him.

"And I told you I shouldn't have used my magic," Harry lightly snapped.

"It is important for you to use it, Potter," Snape countered. "It could keep you alive."

"Yeah, well, what good is that when I don't want to be?" Harry bit out. He looked up at the two men when he didn't receive a response and found them gazing at him sympathetically. He huffed and dropped his eyes again. "I'm a freak and I always will be."

"You're not, Harry," Kingsley protested.

"No? Then who else can do what I just did?" Harry argued. "I pulled one of your most painful memories out and made you relive it, and I hardly even knew that's what I was doing. Who the hell can do something like that?"

"Anyone with skill in Mind Magic," Snape replied simply. 

Harry stared at him for a long while before blowing out a breath of frustration. "I'm still sorry," he said to Kingsley. "I didn't mean..."

"To find the memory of the day my wife and daughter died?"

Harry looked up at him, a stab of pain hitting him as he realized what he'd seen a flash of.

"It's alright, kid," Kingsley assured. "Honestly, you impressed me with how well you held your own in that duel."

"I still shouldn't have done that," Harry said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have-"

"No, you should," Snape interrupted. "You do what you have to in order to survive. No enemy will have mercy on you."

"You're not my enemy though," Harry argued.

"No, but we want you to act like we are during these so you can learn how to fight a real enemy," Kingsley replied. "You have to know and be willing to do anything."

"What if doing anything means going Dark like Ron thinks? What if he's right and using this magic will make me go Dark? It's partly Voldemort's magic and I have his soul in me and I can connect to Dark Marks," Harry ranted. "What if it's all because I'm actually Dark? What if it's all because I'm actually like him?"

"As the one Mr. Weasley said, we are all Dark," Snape said, bringing Harry's eyes to him. "The difference is giving into it or utilizing it. We are going to ensure you utilize it."

Harry stared at the professor, stomach twisting with anxiety but his mind turning over the two men's words.

"Can we heal you now?" Kingsley asked after a few moments and Harry nodded reluctantly.

The two worked together, healing all the slices Kingsley had made and feeding Harry potions to take care of the Cruciatus effects and other pain.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have a few things to do at Hogwarts," Snape told them. "Well done, Potter, and stay out of trouble."

Briefly giving Snape an odd look at the praise, Harry turned the expression into a grin. "Always do, sir," he quipped easily and laughed at the exasperated stare he received before dodging the swat to his head.

The man just shook his head, gaining another laugh from Harry, and walked back to the house. Harry watched him go, humour easing to be replaced by the deep-seated confusion he had yet to truly acknowledge, let alone confront. It wasn't a new confusion. It had started that day in Privet Drive and had sat behind every interaction he'd had with Snape. A part of him hadn't wanted to confront the confusion, had wanted to just accept the new dynamic without question. Only, he was completely incapable of accepting change without questioning motive, especially change in well-established dynamics, like his and Snape's. He had to understand what had happened, what had changed...if it was real. He had to know so he could be prepared if and when he was left behind.

"Everything alright, kid?" Kingsley asked.

Harry furrowed his brow, still staring after Snape despite the man not being there anymore. "Can people change? Like really change?"

"I like to think so."

"How do you know? How do you know it's real?"

A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to Kingsley, seeing the puzzled concern.

"What's going on?" Kingsley wondered.

Harry felt his furrow turn into a frown as he nearly glared at Number Twelve. "He hated me. We've hated each other for five years. That can't just...go away."

"Why not?"

"Because hate doesn't just disappear, that's not how it works, and it definitely doesn't disappear in a month," Harry argued.

"Maybe it didn't disappear," Kingsley said. "Maybe it changed."

"But how?" Harry said, feeling frustrated and desperate. "What changed?"

"Circumstances. Perspective," Kingsley suggested. "You'd be surprised what can change if those things do."

"But what made those change?"

"You. Him," Kingsley replied. "Not every relationship you have is doomed to fail."

Harry blinked at the sudden burning in his eyes. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Harry," Kingsley said gently and he looked at the Auror again. "What are you struggling with?"

Harry's eyes dropped to the ground. "If it's real then I can lose it. Then something matters and I don't want anything to matter. I'm done caring."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to die. Because I want to die. Because it hurts too much. Because no one else cares."

"Oh, kid," Kingsley murmured and Harry was startled when he was pulled from the stage to be brought into the large man's arms in an engulfing hug. "You don't get to choose if people care or if they change."

Harry still fought the burning in his eyes as he leaned his head against the Auror's shoulder. "I can't lose anyone else and I can't have people fighting what has to happen. I can't handle anyone making it harder than it already is. I want to die. I don't want anyone changing that."

"You don't get to decide if people fight for you either," Kingsley said, "and you won't lose anyone. You won't lose him."

"You can't promise that."

Kingsley's chest lifted under him as the man sighed. "No, I suppose not, but you shouldn't be alone out of fear."

"It's what I deserve."

"What you deserve is to have never been given our war," Kingsley answered. "What you deserve is whatever Severus can give you because you have no idea the things you can get with him on your side."

Harry wrapped his arms around Kingsley and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm tired of being alone."

"You're not, kid," Kingsley murmured. "That I can promise."

They were quiet as Harry allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to believe in Kingsley's words and Snape's intentions regardless of their fuzziness. It still puzzled him that things had changed between him and Snape so drastically in only a month, but he could agree Kingsley was right; circumstances had changed. Maybe the new dynamic was simply what was needed then by them and the situation.

"I will never tell you to live for the dead, but this is what Sirius would want for you," Kingsley told him.

Harry snorted quietly and finally stepped out of the Auror's embrace. "I highly doubt he had Snape in mind."

Kingsley chuckled. "No, probably not, but he would want you to find someone to help you. He wouldn't want you joining him so soon."

Harry let out a sad sigh, pained thinking about Sirius. "He has helped. Not sure I would've made it out of Privet Drive without him, honestly. Surprised I'm still here sometimes."

Kingsley gave him a gentle, sympathetic yet understanding smile. "And we're going to keep it that way."

"We?"

Kingsley nodded. "The day you learned of the horcrux, Severus confronted Dumbledore-"

"Wait, he did?" Harry interrupted.

Kingsley nodded again. "He came back, told me he would find the other horcruxes and would find a way to remove yours without killing you. I promised to help and I intend on doing so."

Harry gazed at the man, surprised at his and Snape's apparent conviction.

"You can trust in us," Kingsley impressed, "especially because if Severus Snape makes a promise, he keeps it."

And, thinking back on the last month, even the things he knew from the last twenty years of Snape's life, Harry knew that was something he could believe.

"So, I had a thought," Harry said later that evening.

He and Snape had moved into the library when the man returned from Hogwarts after dinner, and were searching the Black literature collection for anything that could help provide information on horcruxes, Mind Hunting, or marks like the Dark Mark. Well, Harry was perusing the shelves as Snape read through the book that Harry had found with the locket, Harry having retrieve it upon the professor's request to know how he'd learned about horcruxes.

"Just the one?" Snape retorted lightly without looking up from the black book. "One step at a time, I suppose."

Harry turned from the shelf he was examining and scowled at the man. "Couldn't just let it go once, could you?"

"Have you ever known me to ‘just let it go'?" Snape said, turning a page.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," Harry replied and smirked when Snape finally looked up at him with a scowl of his own.

"You think you are terribly charming, don't you?"

"I think I'm delightful," Harry said, laughing as Snape rolled his eyes. "Now, do you want to hear my thought or not?"

"I have started to assume I do not have a choice," Snape drawled.

"You're right, you don't," Harry said, spinning to lean his back against the shelves and crossing his arms. He felt the exasperated amusement in Snape's magic as the man rested his cheek between his thumb and forefinger, clearly waiting for Harry to continue. "So, when I touched the horcrux, I told you I heard voices."

Snape nodded.

"I think I heard how the horcruxes were made," Harry told him. "The people involved."

"Those the Dark Lord killed to make into a horcrux?" Snape clarified and Harry was the one to nod. "How did you draw this conclusion?"

Harry moved his eyes away from Snape's to the book in the man's lap. "The last voices I heard were Voldemort's and my mother's."

There was no response, but Harry did feel the pained regret that briefly sharpened Snape's magic. It settled to the background after just a few seconds and Harry shook himself out of the little he remembered of Halloween night.

"Anyway, my thought was that I use my horcrux to find out about the others. Find out what they are, where they are maybe," Harry explained and Snape's eyes narrowed.

"We will pretend for the moment that I would be stupid enough to endorse such an inane plan," Snape said and Harry rolled his eyes. "How do you know you could gain any such information? We have no idea how the horcrux truly works, particularly in relation to the others."

"And I doubt we'll ever know without trying things because I'm going to take a wild guess and assume two things. One, that no one's ever made more than one horcrux and, two, that no one has ever been a horcrux," Harry said and Snape pinned him with a look, making Harry sigh. "I already heard some things that I think will help so if I hear more, I can learn more."

"What did you hear?"

"I think he killed his father for one and a woman named Hepzibah for another," Harry told him. "None of the others were specific so that's why I need to hear more. You said you would help find the others. This might be the only way how."

"I refuse to let you risk yourself so foolishly," Snape said, continuing before Harry could begin arguing. "Let us focus on the ones you heard specifics about. You said his father was involved in one."

"Yeah, I heard him call someone ‘Father' after another voice said he looked like a Muggle." Harry nodded. "I assume talking about his father."

Snape looked at him questioningly.

"Voldemort's father was a Muggle," Harry explained, "and he seemed to really hate the man. Changed his name so he didn't share a name with his Muggle father."

Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged. 

"He told me. He likes to talk," Harry said flippantly.

Snape hummed. "That he does," he murmured, making Harry grin for a moment. "In any case, it is a direction we can pursue, the Dark Lord's father. We would likely still need more than a common name, however."

Harry thought, replaying all of his interactions with Voldemort. He tried to remember every vision, every location, and every word spoken. He wanted to remember, wanted to know what had been revealed that he hadn't understood or hadn't seemed important, but could now explain...something. He found himself back in a graveyard, reliving one of the most terrifying nights of his life. He struggled to look past his fear and pain and Cedric. He frowned to himself as phantom pain brushed his arm, his head, his entire body. The laughs, cheers, and jeers of the Death Eaters echoed in his head like the harsh whispers of haunting ghosts. The green light of the curse that had defined his life blinded him, highlighting the silhouettes of all those the light had taken from him.

"Focus, Potter."

"Huh?" Harry pulled himself from the graveyard and its ghosts, and looked at Snape who was gazing at him. Snape's eyes flicked to another part of the library and Harry turned his head, finding furniture and loose books hovering in the air. He sighed and pulled back on the magic he could now feel leaving him in calm, but strong waves, bringing everything back to the floor. "Sorry." He summoned his wooden snake and started absently carving away at the details.

"What is bothering you?" Snape asked, watching him.

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking about things," Harry said, stepping just slightly back into the graveyard to find what he needed. "There would be records of Voldemort, right? Of who he was before, when he was Tom Riddle?"

Snape looked at him curiously. "I would assume so."

"Meaning there should be records of his parents," Harry said. "If he killed his father, there's got to be a record of the death."

"Perhaps, but I doubt the Ministry would have been interested in the death of a commonly named Muggle," Snape pointed out. "I'm afraid we can do little with just a name."

"I've got a place," Harry said. "Little Hangleton. It's where the Riddles lived."

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen it, I've been there, to the graveyard," Harry said distantly. "It's where the Portkey brought us, where Voldemort came back."

Snape's magic grew heavy with some emotion and Harry found himself seeing memory flashes that weren't his own: a burning arm complete with a writhing jet-black Dark Mark and suffocating fear; a screaming and sobbing and bloody Harry clutching desperately to Cedric; Dumbledore murmuring, "You must return," while Snape stared out a window into the darkness, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

Harry gazed at Snape contemplatively as the memories faded and the emotion left the man's magic. He had his own flashes of moments with the professor from the last five years and, as Kingsley's words repeated themselves, he realized the Auror could actually be right.

Perspective changes everything.