Harry slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the canopy of his bed with a small frown, confused by the dream he had just had. For once, it wasn’t a nightmare about the Dursleys or Sirius. Instead, it was fuzzy and already retreating from his mind, but there had been a young woman he didn’t recognize. She had just stood there, watching him but not speaking. It had been so strange. He didn’t recognize her, but a part of him felt like he knew her. Despite the oddity, he had to admit he was glad for the break from the nightmares.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his feet on the floor. He rubbed his eyes to wake up and slipped on his glasses. He sat there for a time with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands while he gazed at the closed drapes around Ron’s bed.

He was thrilled to be back at Hogwarts, he always was and it had been a rough summer, but things also felt different in the castle that year. The wizarding world had changed as it came to realize the reality that Voldemort was back, and it seemed that anxiety was seeping into the school. It was tense and dim, and everyone seemed angry. School had only been back for two months and the house rivalries were worse than ever. It seemed like there was a fight happening every other day. He felt like it was more than just war tensions and house rivalries. He felt like something else was happening in the castle.

Something was changing.

“Breakfast time?”

Harry looked up at Ron with a smile. His friend was awake—at least partially—and had pulled back his curtains. His hair was a disaster and he was yawning loudly while rubbing his eyes vigorously.

“Yeah, breakfast time,” Harry said, getting to his feet. “Up. Get dressed.” He swatted Ron’s leg as he walked to the end of his bed. He opened his trunk and pulled out a clean uniform. He changed quickly, keeping his back away from Ron’s sight, messily tying his tie and pulling on his robes.

Once Ron had managed to drag himself out of bed and got dressed, the two of them left Gryffindor Tower to head to breakfast. They entered a nearly full but nearly silent Great Hall. The silence was, unfortunately, common that year. No one spoke between tables and everyone really only whispered. It was like everyone was afraid of being overheard, as though everyone had secrets. The air was heavy in the Great Hall, heavy with fear, anger, hatred, confusion…secrets. The castle had its secrets, but this was different. It was more than just a secret passageway or chamber; these secrets could change everything, he could feel it.

He and Ron slid into Gryffindor table across from Hermione. As he scooped food onto his plate, he gazed around the Hall, the decorations reminding him that day was Halloween. Like every Halloween, he took a moment to remember the parents he never knew and reinforce his hatred of and desire for revenge against Voldemort. Sufficiently filled with his sustaining anger, his eyes drifted up to the staff table. Even the professors were silent like the rest of the Hall. All of their faces were hard and drawn as they stared at their plates or out at the students.

He had never seen the professors so serious, not even during the petrifications in second year or the hunt for Sirius Black in third.

It was different now. Something was wrong, and the castle and its residents were changing as a result. He sighed and was about to zone back into Ron and Hermione’s quiet conversation when his eyes met those of the Potions professor, Severus Snape. The man’s eyes were hard and dark as they always were, devoid of all emotion. As they gazed at each other, Harry felt anger fill him, the same anger he always felt towards Snape. The hatred between them had never been stronger, and he couldn’t understand how Dumbledore seemed to trust the man so much.

There was a tiny jolt in his head and he frowned, wondering what it was. When it didn’t happen again, he turned away from Snape, assuming the pull had to do with his scar and Voldemort. He shook his head and turned back to his breakfast just as an owl flew overhead, dropping a letter beside his plate. Confused about who would be writing him, he tore open the envelope.

Dear Harry, 

Please come to my office tonight after dinner. There are things we must discuss. 

Professor Dumbledore 

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said, folding the letter back up. “He wants me to go to his office tonight.”

“What for?” Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, shoving the letter in his bag and returning to his breakfast. “He just said there’s things to talk about.”

They all finished eating and headed to Transfiguration. They were quiet as they walked, passing students that halted conversations and stared at them.

They took their seats in the classroom and took out their materials. It was only a few minutes later that McGonagall began to lecture and they began to take notes. Harry did his best to focus and keep up, but his mind kept wandering back to his dream. He wanted to remember the dream, the woman. He stared absently up at the board where McGonagall was working through an example of the day’s theory, but he wasn’t seeing or hearing any of it.

Even though he couldn’t remember anything about the dream or the woman in it, he could still feel it. She felt…familiar…and sad.

“Harry?”

He blinked, the voice yanking him out of his thoughts. He turned to Hermione who was looking at him with mild concern.

“Class is over,” she said. “Are you alright?”

Harry blinked again as he looked around. Everyone else was gone. When had that happened?

“Fine. I’m fine,” Harry said. He quickly gathered his things into his bag and followed Ron and Hermione from the room.

“Are you sure you’re okay, mate?” Ron asked after he had to pull Harry down a corridor to ensure he was going the correct way. “You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, I…I’m just thinking about a dream I had,” Harry said.

“Was it You-Know-Who?” Hermione asked, obviously very concerned now.

“No, not one of those dreams.” Harry shook his head. “I actually can’t remember the dream, but there was a woman.”

“Do you know who she is?” Hermione asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I can’t even remember anything about her. I think she felt familiar, but I don’t actually know,” Harry said.

“Are you sure it’s not connected to You-Know-Who?” Hermione said and, looking at her, he knew she was thinking about his vision of Sirius last year that he had been so sure was real and not implanted by Voldemort. He felt a sting at the reminder of Sirius and the implication that he couldn’t tell what was Voldemort and what wasn’t, no matter how true. This time, though, he knew.

“I’m sure,” he said. “This is not Voldemort. It’s something else, I just don’t know who or what.”

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Hermione said as they entered the Potions classroom.

Harry just nodded as he sat. The new professor, Slughorn, walked up to the front, and he did his best to push the dream aside and focus on the lesson.

Harry stepped off the stairs as the giant stone griffin finished turning and knocked on the door. He tapped his foot as he waited for admission, nervous. While he had seen Dumbledore briefly this summer, he hadn’t spent any significant amount of time with the headmaster nor had he been in the office since Sirius’ death when he screamed and smashed things. In the little time they were together in the summer convincing Slughorn to return to Hogwarts, they hadn’t spoken about the aftermath of Sirius’ death.

“Come in.”

He slowly opened the door and stepped into the office. It looked the same as it always had except for a few small, empty spots on the desk. The items he had smashed used to fill those spots. He wondered why Dumbledore didn’t repair what he had broken.

“Ah, Harry, I’m glad you could join me this evening,” Dumbledore said with a smile as he looked up from paperwork on his desk. He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat, my boy.”

Harry sat, tense and uncomfortable.

Dumbledore clasped his hands together and gazed at Harry. “I suppose you are curious why I’ve asked you to come.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“Last year, I made the mistake of believing keeping my distance from you would protect you and stall conflict with Voldemort,” Dumbledore said. “Clearly I was wrong, given all that happened.”

Harry’s eyes dropped at yet another vague reference to the Ministry, the possession, and the death of his godfather. The pain and sadness of it all always hit so hard, making his heart ache in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid realizing he would never be saved from the Dursleys. It was an ache full of loss and loneliness.

“As such, I am resolving to try a more open method,” Dumbledore said, and Harry looked back up at him. “Meaning, there is a lot I must tell you.”

Harry sat up straighter, invested. He was sick of being left in the dark. He was finally being offered information.

“I have spent this last year attempting to trace Voldemort’s past and learn the things he has done. I hoped to discover how to defeat him.”

Harry leaned forward, intrigued. Dumbledore also leaned forward, like he was sharing a secret.

“I believe I may be close to discovering the secret,” Dumbledore said. “I would like you to continue the search with me.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? How?”

“I have memories that I have acquired from individuals Voldemort has crossed paths with. These will tell us about Voldemort and reveal how to destroy him.”

“You want me to watch them with you?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed. I now believe you should know about Voldemort given your connection and his fixation on you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, thrilled to be included but he also couldn’t help but think he should have been told more about Voldemort when he entered the wizarding world. It should never have been Dumbledore’s decision to keep it all from him.

“We will begin our journey in a couple weeks,” Dumbledore said. “I will send an owl when I wish to meet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Have a good night, my boy.”

Harry nodded and left the office. His mind was racing. He was finally going to learn about Voldemort. He could learn what caused Voldemort to become what he was, what happened that Halloween, why Voldemort wanted him dead, what the truth was behind their strange connection. He could learn why his parents had to die and he had to be left to face his horrid life alone. Maybe, somehow, learning about Voldemort could also explain what was happening in the castle. Maybe they were somehow connected.

He halted in his trek to Gryffindor Tower when he heard shouting and scuffling. He rounded the corner to find a few students engaged in a fist fight. Insults were spewing from all of them. He wished this was a rare sight, but not that year. He hurried over and forced his way in, breaking the students apart. It was a mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. He recognized all of them and frowned, having never known any of them to be violent or troublemakers in any way.

“Go to hell, Potter,” one of the Hufflepuffs spat. His frown deepened as they all glared at him and shoved his shoulder as they passed by. He watched them go and sighed, wishing he knew what was causing the castle and everyone in it to change.

He rubbed his forehead and continued on his way to the Tower. He found Ron and Hermione sitting by the fire in the common room, talking quietly. They both looked up when they heard him approaching, and watched as he sat in one of the empty chairs with them. They sat in silence for a moment, Harry staring in the fire while Ron and Hermione stared at him.

“So?” Ron said eventually and Harry looked at them.

“Dumbledore’s been trying to find a way to defeat Voldemort. He’s got memories that he wants to show me,” Harry explained.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione said. “You’ll finally get some insight.”

Harry nodded.

“Did you say anything about your dream?” Hermione asked.

“Why would I?”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe Professor Dumbledore could help or at least tell you if it’s connected to You-Know-Who.”

Harry shook his head. “I doubt it. Besides, I barely remember anything about it. I’m sure it was nothing. Just a normal dream.”

He gazed back into the fire. Even as he said it, he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t remember the dream, but he knew it wasn’t a normal dream. He also knew it wasn’t related to Voldemort, but he couldn’t explain exactly what it was. It felt important though and he was hoping he’d have the dream again. He wanted to remember it and understand it. It meant something and he wanted to know.

Crack. 

Harry stopped suddenly at the sound, frowning as he looked around. He gazed at the walls, the floors, the stairs, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He started walking again, making his way down the Grand Staircase.

Crack. 

He stopped again as the sound happened again, only louder. A few other students travelling the Staircase stopped and looked around as well. He was about to dismiss the sound a second time when he looked at the landing he was about to step onto. There was a thin but long crack in the stone, stretching from the wall to about the center. He stepped onto the landing and crouched down, running his fingers over the crack.

He knew the castle was centuries old and cracks in stone were normal, but it didn’t seem right. Hogwarts wasn’t just any building and in all the time he’d attended, he had never seen such damage. He was certain the magic of Hogwarts prevented it from breaking down in such ways.

Feeling the break in the stone, he wasn’t sure what to think. Was this related to everything else that was different and changing in the school?

He stood and resumed his trek, unable to delay any longer. He had to get to Quidditch practice. They had their first match in only a few weeks and the new team was not functioning well. He finally understood why Wood had been so stuck up. It wasn’t that he had been conceited. He had been stressed about wanting to create and lead the best team. He’d had to replace nearly the entire team and he’d had to fight against accusations of favouritism when he chose both Ginny and Ron for the team.

Everyone had been great during tryouts, but now, during practice, it was like they either had no idea how to play the game or how to work as a team. There was constant fumbling and fighting.

With a sigh, he finished his trip by jogging to the change room. The entire team was already there, but they were changing in near silence. They all gave him small nods or quiet ‘heys’ as he passed, but that was it.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron said. “What’s up? You were nearly late.”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s nothing serious,” Harry said, changing quickly. He grabbed his Firebolt and turned to his team. “Right, let’s go, you lot.”

He watched them all get brooms from the closet, frowning at the slight shoves he saw some of them give others. He glanced at Ron who just gave him a small shrug and head shake, obviously unsure what was going on or what to do about it.

Shaking his own head, he followed his team out to the pitch.

“Alright, everyone, line up!” he called out and waited for the team to slowly make their way over. “We’ve got our first match in three weeks and we’ve got a lot to work on. So, today, we’re going to run through formations.”

A murmur ran through the team, but he ignored it.

“Let’s go, in the air. Formation five,” he said and clapped his hands, signaling the end of instruction.

He watched them all fly into position before flying up himself. He stayed off to the side to watch. He leaned on his broom, watching his team work intently. He groaned as things started going wrong, as usual. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote began swinging their Beater bats at each other, allowing the practice bludgers to circle freely. Demelza Robins threw the quaffle at Katie Bell’s back, knocking her hard in the head. Ginny started yelling at Jimmy and Ritchie when they nearly hit her while swinging their bats at each other.

After a few minutes, he flew over.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Enough! Get over here!”

The team flew to join him, still pushing and hitting and yelling.

“Enough!” he yelled again. The fighting stopped and they all looked at him, meeting his glare. “What in Merlin’s name is wrong with all of you? Can we not get a single play right? Do any of you know how to be a team?”

They all just stared at him so he looked at Katie.

“Katie, I know you can do this. You’ve been a part of this team for six years. We’ve played together for six years,” Harry said and Katie’s eyes dropped, indicating her shame and embarrassment. He passed his gaze over the rest of the team. “If you don’t want to even compete for the Cup, then, by all means, keep playing like morons. However, if you want to keep the Cup for Gryffindor, then I suggest you figure out your damn issues and play the way you all did during tryouts. I saw good players and good teammates that day, but those people seem to have all disappeared.”

He paused, taking in the team’s fallen expressions. “Now, prove me wrong or get off the pitch.”

No one moved.

“Formation five. Let’s go.”

Slowly, everyone turned and flew back to their starting positions for the play. Harry returned to his place on the side. The play started, and he couldn’t help but smile when it ended and he realized they finally performed a play properly for the first time since tryouts.

They practiced for another hour, managing to get through another two formations. He felt some pride as he called an end to practice and they all flew to the ground. He frowned and his pride disappeared when he saw Jimmy and Ritchie shove each other and Ginny and Katie glare at each other.

“Well, you got them to work for one practice at least,” Ron said, slowing down to match Harry’s pace.

“It needs to work for more than just a practice,” Harry said, sighing. “There’s something happening.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I’ve felt it and seen it too. Is the reason you were late related?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “Let’s get changed and then I’ll tell you.”

They changed quickly and headed back to the castle. On the way, Harry explained what had happened on his way to practice. He brought Ron to the mentioned landing and pointed to the crack that was still sitting in the stone, as though it was supposed to be there.

“I didn’t think this was even possible,” Harry said.

“It shouldn’t be, not without something physically causing it,” Ron said. “This castle is infused with magic, meant to prevent normal wear and damage.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, what could cause this?”

Ron shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“It is time you learn how Voldemort became what he is today,” Dumbledore said, getting up from his desk and opening a small glass cabinet filled with intricate glass vials. Some were empty, but others were filled with a shimmering, silvery-blue liquid that he knew to be memories. He watched the headmaster choose a vial and walk over to the cabinet he knew held a Pensieve. When Dumbledore gestured for Harry to join him at the Pensieve, he jumped to his feet and walked over.

Dumbledore held up the vial. “This is the memory of Bob Ogden, a Ministry official who encountered individuals that would unwillingly become some of Voldemort’s closest family members.”

Harry’s mind immediately started racing. He had never considered Voldemort’s family, had never thought about the wizard coming from somewhere and someone the way they all did. They obviously contributed to turning Voldemort into the monster he was or Dumbledore wouldn’t be showing memories featuring them. What had Voldemort’s family done to him? Was it anything like what he went through with the Dursleys?

“Ready?”

Harry refocused to realize Dumbledore had dumped the memory into the Pensieve and was waiting for Harry. He nodded and stepped up to the Pensieve, gazing down at the swirling liquid. As an image of a portly middle-aged man with large glasses came to the surface, he lowered his face to the Pensieve, submerging his face in the memory. He felt the pull he’d experienced a few times before and found himself falling into the memory, settling into it beside Dumbledore and outside a tiny, dilapidated house.

Harry gazed around at the dark forest that sat behind the shack and what appeared to be a small village not far up the dirt road the shack was on. His examination of the surroundings was interrupted by the man he had seen walk by and up to the shack. He raised an eyebrow at the man’s outfit. Ogden wore a dark-coloured frock-coat and spats over a one-piece suit with a striped pattern. Ogden clearly didn’t dress as a Muggle often. The man stepped up to the shack and paused before knocking, frowning at something on the door. Harry moved closer and was disturbed to see a dead snake pinned to the door.

Clearing his throat and choosing to move past the snake, Ogden knocked on the door. There was a lot of noise inside before the door was yanked open. Ogden jumped back in shock at the knife and wand pointed at him.

“He-hello, sir,” Ogden said, swallowing thickly. “My name is Bob Ogden. I am with the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement specifically. I am looking for a Mr. Morfin Gaunt.”

‘Leave,’ the young man with the knife said harshly.

Ogden frowned. “I’m sorry?”

‘Get out of here unless you wish to lose an eye,’ the young man threatened.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you Morfin Gaunt?” Ogden asked.

‘Idiot!” the young man shouted, making Ogden jump.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Why doesn’t he understand what the man is saying?”

“Do you not recognize the language?” Dumbledore asked casually.

Harry understood immediately. “He’s speaking in Parseltongue.”

Dumbledore gave a nod and Harry returned to the memory just in time to see the young man slice his wand through the air. Ogden stumbled backwards as he sputtered, a thick, yellow liquid pouring from his nose. Stunned by the magic cast on him, Ogden didn’t notice the Muggle couple walking by and collided with them, knocking them all to the ground.

“Oh! Oh, my apologies, good sir and young lady,” Ogden said to the couple. Holding a handkerchief to his nose, he used his free hand to assist the Muggles to their feet. “Are you alright, my dear?” he asked the young woman.

“Oh, yes, thank you, sir,” she said.

“No harm done,” the young man said, taking the woman’s hand. “Have a good day, sir.”

“And you,” Ogden said. He watched them for a moment before turning and returning to the shack. The young man with the knife was still in the doorway and cackling. “Now, sir, I must insist on speaking with Morfin Gaunt. This is a serious matter.”

‘Morfin!” another man’s voice called from inside the shack. This time, Harry recognized the Parseltongue. An older man with an angry, drawn face appeared in the door with the young man that was apparently Morfin. ‘What’re you doin’, boy? What’s this?’

‘Says he’s from the Ministry. Here for me, he says,’ Morfin said.

‘What for?’ the older man asked and Morfin shrugged. The man turned to Ogden. “What d’you want?”

“Hello, sir. My name is Bob Ogden. I am from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I must speak with Morfin Gaunt. Might I come in to discuss this matter?”

The man sneered as his eyes roamed over Ogden. After a few long minutes, he huffed and stepped to the side, pushing Morfin behind him. “S’pose. Get in.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ogden said and stepped, somewhat uncomfortably, past the man and into the dark house. Harry and Dumbledore followed.

“What exactly is this about?” the man asked snappishly.

“And you are, sir?” Ogden asked.

“Marvolo Gaunt,” the man said and Harry’s eyes widened. “Morfin’s my son. Now, what do you want?”

“Shall we sit so we might be more comfortable?” Ogden suggested, turning to the sitting area. “Oh, hello, my dear.”

Harry looked around Ogden to see who he was talking to. He was shocked to see that what he thought was just a huge pile of dirty rags was actually a young girl. She was dressed in a dirty, torn grey dress, her hair was a disaster, and her face was sallow and covered in grime.

The girl glanced at Ogden, but didn’t speak and quickly curled back up in her corner, letting her hair cover her face.

Ogden was clearly confused and concerned, but turned back to Marvolo and Morfin, the reason he was there. “Mr. Gaunt, are you aware of your son’s actions very early this morning?”

“Depends,” Marvolo grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Well, in the early hours of the morning, the Ministry received warning that Morfin performed magic in the presence of a Muggle and also performed magic on that same Muggle. We sent an owl earlier today about the incident and my visit,” Ogden explained.

“I got no use for owls,” Marvolo snapped. “Got no use for reading neither. Gaunt men don’t need reading.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, but that is no excuse to ignore a hearing summons from the Ministry of Magic,” Ogden said. He pulled out a roll of parchment and offered it to Marvolo. “Here is the official summons. Morfin must attend a hearing to answer for his serious breach of wizarding law.”

Harry used every ounce of effort to not cringe away from the rage that filled Marvolo’s face. The man stomped right up to Ogden and shoved his right hand in Ogden’s face. Harry managed to see the gold ring with an oddly shaped black stone on Marvolo’s index finger.

“Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here with your ‘summons’?” Marvolo spat. “Don’t you know what this is, what it means?” He shook the ring in Ogden’s face.

“No, I—” Ogden was cut off as Marvolo stormed past him and to the girl still huddled on the floor. Ogden’s eyes widened as Marvolo yanked violently on a silver chain around the girl’s neck, dragging her, gasping, to her feet. She stumbled a few times, but Marvolo either didn’t notice or care as he pulled the chain to Ogden’s face, a pendant of some kind dangling from it. The girl gasped for air and was hiccupping on sobs.

“Mr. Gaunt, please!” Ogden said in shock at the violence being perpetrated against the girl. “Your daughter!”

“Look at this!” Marvolo growled, yanking the necklace again to shake the pendant. “Do you know what this is?”

“Mr. Gaunt!”

Harry moved to see the pendant. It was an almost octagonal shape. It was made of silver with intricate etchings around the front edges. The front had a light, amber-coloured glass over a detailed snake etching.

“We are the last living descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and you will not command us like common dogs,” Marvolo snapped, throwing his daughter to the side where she fell to the floor. Still gasping and whimpering, she scurried back to her corner, curling into an even tighter ball than any Harry thought he had managed.

“Mr. Gaunt, regardless of your ancestry, you must still abide by wizard law. Your son—”

“Yeah, Morfin cursed that Muggle trash, so what?” Marvolo sneered. “Muggles ain’t worth much more than target practice.”

“Did what I had to to take care of the bastard, considering Merope here’s pining for the Muggle,” Morfin said, grinning gleefully but evilly at his sister who looked up with abject fear.

“What was that, boy?” Marvolo growled at Morfin.

“Merope’s in love with the Muggle boy,” Morfin repeated.

Marvolo swung around on Merope, his face once again filled with unbridled rage. Harry couldn’t help his small flinch and hoped Dumbledore didn’t notice.

“No daughter of mine is going to whore herself for no dirty Muggle!” Marvolo roared. He charged at Merope, his hands wrapping around her frail neck. He lifted her into the air and pinned her to the wall. Merope was clawing at her father’s hands, gasping and gurgling.

“Mr. Gaunt!” Ogden shouted and quickly waved his wand. Marvolo was flung backwards, skidding across the floor away from Merope. She had dropped to the floor herself, heaving and sobbing even louder.

Morfin cried out in anger, and brandished his knife and wand again. He ran at Ogden who dashed from the house.

As he disappeared, the memory faded away and Harry felt himself rising up out of the Pensieve. He blinked to adjust to the candlelight after the darkness of the shack. He looked at Dumbledore as the headmaster returned the memory to its vial and to the cabinet. He watched Dumbledore retake his seat behind his desk and Harry did as well upon Dumbledore’s gesture.

They sat in silence for a time, Harry fighting to understand all he had just witnessed and Dumbledore obviously waiting for him to be ready.

“So, what happened after that?” Harry finally asked.

“Bob Ogden returned with reinforcements, and both Marvolo and Morfin were arrested. Marvolo was in Azkaban for six months for harming his daughter and ignoring a Ministry summons. Morfin was sentenced to three years for his attack on the Muggle boy and on Ogden,” Dumbledore explained.

“So, Marvolo?” Harry said. “He was…”

Dumbledore nodded. “Voldemort’s maternal grandfather.”

“The girl, Merope, was his mother?”

Dumbledore nodded again.

Harry briefly flashed back to second year with the memory of sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets.

“If you thought I would keep my filthy Muggle father’s name…”

“The boy Morfin jinxed was Voldemort’s father?” Harry said, shocked. “Voldemort’s father was a Muggle?” It wasn’t until now that he understood the importance of what Voldemort had said back then about having a Muggle father.

“Indeed, he was,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Merope was in love with Tom Riddle for quite some time. Quite the shameful thing for Marvolo, of course.”

“So, it’s true. They, and Voldemort, really are descendants of Slytherin?”

“Indeed. The locket you saw Merope wearing was a prized possession of Slytherin himself, passed down through the generations.”

“So, what happened with Merope and Tom?” Harry asked.

“Merope was desperate for love after her life of neglect and abuse,” Dumbledore said and Harry steadfastly ignored the pang in his heart for his similarity to Merope. “She attempted to approach Tom, but he rejected her. Unwilling to accept his rejection and convinced he could one day love her, she gave him a love potion.”

“What?” Harry said in disbelief.

“She kept him under the potion for some time and they eventually married. However, there are records of Tom returning to the village of Little Hangleton only a few months after they married. Merope also returned home briefly. By this time, Marvolo had returned from Azkaban. Upon her return, Marvolo refused to acknowledge his daughter, particularly when he realized Merope was pregnant with Tom’s child.”

Harry blew out a breath, sitting back heavily. “What happened between them? Where did Merope go? What happened to her and Voldemort once he was born?” His mind was spinning out of control.

“Stories for another night,” Dumbledore said and Harry frowned, disappointed. “Tonight was to introduce you to Voldemort’s family, his beginning before he was ever thought of.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Can I tell Ron and Hermione about this?”

“You may,” Dumbledore agreed. “Now, off to bed, my boy.”

Harry stood and walked to the door. “Good night, Professor.”

“A love potion?” Hermione repeated. “How awful!”

“So, what happened?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know. Dumbledore said we’d talk about it another time,” Harry said.

“Surprised You-Know-Who’s father was a Muggle,” Ron said.

“A coerced Muggle!” Hermione interjected as though offended the love potion wasn’t being discussed. “Tom Riddle was magically manipulated by Merope. It’s a terrible violation.”

“Maybe it explains You-Know-Who’s hatred of Muggles,” Ron said and Harry looked at him curiously. “You said Tom Riddle went back home alone after a few months, right?”

Harry nodded.

“Maybe the potion wore off and he left Merope while she was pregnant. Merope might’ve told him all about how his Muggle father abandoned them,” Ron said with a shrug.

Harry nodded slowly, thinking. Ron had a pretty good theory. It made a lot of sense.

“Poor Merope though,” Hermione said. “While using a love potion is terrible, her life seemed to be nothing but pain. I can’t even imagine the kinds of things she went through and at the hands of her father of all people.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, thinking about all his experiences living with the Dursleys. They were meant to take care of him yet they were the ones to hurt him the most. He hid a flinch as the worst of his injuries on his back that had yet to fully heal pulled and stung.

“At least Dumbledore is finally telling you all of this,” Ron said. “It’s about time you knew how all of this happened.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to respond as a low but loud groaning sound echoed throughout the school. The three of them stopped to look around as did everyone else around them. Harry’s eyes travelled all over and he turned around to look at all the paintings. It took a moment, but then he noticed and frowned.

“Harry?” Hermione said.

“Look,” Harry said, pointing to a painting of a knight on a horse. Ron and Hermione stepped up beside him to also see the painting.

“It’s…it’s not moving,” Hermione said, clearly confused.

Harry looked at the other students, seeing their confusion. He moved his eyes to Ron and Hermione. They also looked confused, but there was also concern. Gazing at Ron, he knew they were both thinking about the cracked landing they had seen before.

The castle was breaking down, but how and why?

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he sat up. He looked around to make sure the other boys were still asleep. Confirming they were, he slipped out of bed and snuck down to the common room. He sat heavily on one end of the sofa in front of the roaring fire, tucking his legs under him. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared into the fire, willing it to burn away all the painful memories.

Seeing the treatment of Merope Gaunt and discussing it with Ron and Hermione had brought back all his memories of the Dursleys to the front of his mind. Not that they weren’t always just under the surface, but, the longer he was at Hogwarts, the easier it became to just not think about the Dursleys.

He reached up to absently but carefully scratch a healing, but now itchy cut on his shoulder. The nightmare—the memory—flashed in his mind and he shifted, hugging himself tighter.

While he had no intention of ever letting anyone know the truth about the Dursleys, he couldn’t help but sometimes wish he had someone. Someone to go to when he felt alone, like now. Someone that wouldn’t force him to talk or try solve anything, but would just be there. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, if it was a friend or a parent, but just someone, someone he’d never had.

His mind instantly went to Sirius. Sirius hadn’t been the type of person he wanted, but he had been someone for him. Sirius had been the closest thing to family, the closest thing to a steady, helpful, caring adult he’d ever had. Sirius hadn’t been the best in many situations, but he’d still been there. If he’d had more time to recover from Azkaban and be free, he probably would’ve been better. But that was over. Sirius was gone.

He swiped at the tears that had begun to fall. He didn’t have a right to keep crying over Sirius, not when he was the reason his godfather was killed in the first place. He didn’t deserve to be sad and he definitely didn’t deserve to have someone take care of him or help him. He’d just get them killed and that wasn’t fair. He could wish he wasn’t alone, but it’s how it was meant to be. Being alone was what he deserved.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and frustrated. He shifted to sit sideways on the sofa, leaning into the corner of the arm and back. He pulled his knees to his chest, tucking his arms in between. He let his head rest against the back while keeping his eyes on the fire, the dancing flames lulling him back to sleep.

Harry glared hatefully at Draco Malfoy as the blonde sauntered over to him. They had been paired up to practice non-verbal shields by Snape, the new Defense professor. It had been over two months and he still couldn’t believe Dumbledore had actually given Snape the job. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Dumbledore actually wanted him dead or brought to Voldemort. He didn’t believe the memory he saw in fourth year or anything Dumbledore said about Snape being a spy for the Light; once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. And, as he stared at Malfoy, he knew the blonde had become one as well, he just knew it. Malfoy was essentially the poster child for Death Eater recruitment.

He gripped his wand so tightly it hurt. The amount of rage and hatred he felt as he stared at Malfoy consumed him.

“Take turns and if I hear any whispering, you will immediately fail,” Snape spat. “Only Tickling Charms. Anything else will also result in a failing grade. Begin.”

Harry glanced at Snape and felt the same white-hot rage and anger. A part of him truly wished both Slytherins dead and another part truly wanted to be the one to kill them.

“Let’s get this over with, Potter,” Malfoy snapped. “We know you can’t do it anyway.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry ground out, trying to ignore the jab. They had started non-verbal magic almost a month ago and he’d been completely incapable of doing anything without speaking. It had been the main source of the year’s conflict between him and Snape. He kept whispering spells, Snape kept catching him, and then Snape would yell and rant about Harry’s idiocy and uselessness.

“Prove me wrong,” Malfoy sneered, raising his wand.

Harry automatically stiffened at having an enemy wand pointed at him. He raised his own wand and did his best to focus on what they had been learning about non-verbal magic, as little as that was coming from Snape. He pictured the outcome he wanted and began to repeat the incantation in his head. He kept it up while gazing at Malfoy, waiting.

“Diffindo,” Malfoy said, catching Harry off guard.

He performed the wand movement, but, as expected, no shield was produced. He gasped quietly as the curse hit, leaving a small cut on his bicep. He glowered at Malfoy who smirked, his grey eyes glittering with malice. Harry glanced at Snape who had been circulating, but was currently chewing out Seamus Finnigan for whispering. Looking back at Malfoy, he read the dare in the Slytherin’s face. Malfoy was daring him to say something about the use of the Cutting Curse instead of the Tickling Charm, knowing Snape would do absolutely nothing to support Harry.

He gripped his wand tighter. He wouldn’t give Malfoy the satisfaction.

With an evil grin, Malfoy raised his wand again. “Diffindo,” he said quietly again.

Harry screamed the incantation in his mind and waved his wand, but, once again, he failed. He hissed as the cut opened up on his cheek. He could feel himself trembling with the fury he felt at Malfoy’s smug face. He readied himself again.

Malfoy didn’t wait long this time. “Diffindo.” 

Harry waved his wand, but he knew nothing would happen without the time to prepare. His hand flew to his neck as it received a thin, shallow slice.

“Diffindo!” 

Harry felt his anger explode in the face of Malfoy clearly wanting to hurt him by not giving him a chance to prepare. There was a pressure in his chest that he had never felt before and, as the curse hit his throat again, it released outward. There was a bright light and suddenly Malfoy was on the floor, his hands over a fairly deep cut on the side of his neck. It wasn’t deep enough to kill, but it was bleeding severely.

“Potter!” Snape roared, racing over with wild eyes. Harry instinctively took a step back. “I knew you were moronic, but thank you for proving that you do not possess even a single brain cell! Do you not understand what a Shielding Charm is?”

“I…I…” Harry stuttered, unable to form words as he tried to understand what had just happened.

“Detention, Potter,” Snape growled. “With me for two weeks, starting tonight.”

“Sir!” Harry protested, feeling his rage rebuild instantly.

“Get out!” Snape yelled. Every other student scurried from the room as fast as possible. When he realized Harry was still there, Snape screamed, “Out!” 

Harry glared, grabbed his bag, and stormed out, his entire body shaking with anger and as a result of whatever he had done. He hurried away from the dungeons, his head pounding and his mind racing with confusion and a bit of fear at what he’d done.

“Harry.”

He jumped as he turned a corner, nearly running into Ron and Hermione. She was about to say something when some of the Slytherins from Potions class walked by, shooting Harry glares filled with hate and even a little bit of fear.

“C’mon,” Harry said quietly and they left the dungeons. They walked into the Great Hall, ignoring the stares and murmurs. Word of what had happened had clearly travelled around already. They sat at an empty space at Gryffindor table. Harry sighed and rubbed his face vigorously. He looked at his hands and found they were still shaking. He clenched them tightly, trying to stop the tremors.

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked, piling food on his plate and shrugging at Hermione’s look of disgust.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, staring intently at his hands.

“Harry,” Hermione said and he looked up at her. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I was just so mad and there was this pressure. When he got me with the last curse, some…power just…exploded. I couldn’t control it and I didn’t mean to do it.”

Or did you? You had been thinking how you wished he was dead and that you could kill him yourself, a voice said in his mind.

Harry frowned at himself. He knew he had thought those things, but had he actually meant them? Besides Voldemort, he’d never wished anyone dead and he certainly never wished to kill anyone. He knew he was angry, angrier than ever, and he felt a hatred towards anyone he considered an enemy greater than he’d ever felt, but surely it was all normal given all of the circumstances. Or was there something else going on? He wasn’t the only angry one inside Hogwarts. Anger and hate filled the school. So, if it wasn’t just him, what was going on? Where had that power come from? Who would want him to kill, or at least try to kill, Malfoy?

Harry suddenly became aware of eyes on him. His gaze was instantly pulled to the head table and connected with the blue eyes of Dumbledore. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the headmaster’s intense stare and the strange chill that ran through his body.

Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the Potions classroom, absently confused why Snape was having him do detention there when it was no longer his subject. He only had to wait a moment before being permitted entrance.

“Enter.”

He pushed the door open and stood just inside, letting the door close and waiting. Snape was sitting at the desk, illuminated by candles as he completed some grading. Harry twisted his hands together, glad his shaking had stopped but still anxious about all the strange things that had occurred the last few days.

“Professor Slughorn has requested some help so you will clean, Potter,” Snape said without looking up. “Get started.”

Harry sighed and walked into the storeroom where the wash basins were. They were wide and deep to accommodate all sizes of cauldrons. Beside the basins was a small stack of about five cauldrons, clearly used, along with a few stirrers and ladles. He was honestly surprised there wasn’t more, that Snape hadn’t provided an impossible amount to clean within the hour he’d be there. His uncle would have and usually did, having a list of ‘chores’ longer than him that he was expected to finish in only a few, impossible hours. He never finished in time; that was the point. It was just another reason to hurt him. Taking the mild detention for what it was, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. While the work did remind him of the Dursleys, it was also relaxing in a way. It took some of his focus so he was not overwhelmed with everything on his mind for once.

Before he knew it, the hour was up. He had cleaned everything except one cauldron. He put the clean tools and cauldrons away just as Snape called for him.

“Get out here, Potter.”

Harry left the storeroom and stood silently in front of Snape. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting in the tense silence. After a few long minutes, Snape finally looked up and their eyes met.

Harry had to take a physical step back at the jolt that ran through him at their eye contact. It was similar to dinner when he met Dumbledore’s eyes. Except this felt…better in some way whereas it had been like a chill with Dumbledore.

“Are you an imbecile, Potter?”

And, just like that, whatever he had been feeling was gone and replace, once again, with rage.

“You must be considering that was a very simple question,” Snape said and Harry clenched his fists. “Now, tell me, was it your intention to kill Mr. Malfoy?”

“No, sir,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what happened.”

“So, you are an infant that cannot control himself,” Snape sneered and Harry glowered. “If you ever harm Mr. Malfoy like that again, mark my words, you will not enjoy what I do to you.”

Harry did his best not to react as his stomach lurched slightly at the threat. He couldn’t help but think of his uncle and all his ‘punishments’. Was Snape truly capable of doing things like that, especially to students? Would Dumbledore even allow something like that?

“Potter!”

Harry jumped at the shout.

“Do you understand me?” Snape said.

“Yes, sir,” Harry ground out.

“Same time tomorrow,” Snape said. “Now, get out.” He lowered his head back over his work.

Harry cast one last glare at Snape’s head before turning and stalking out of the room back to Gryffindor Tower. Once inside the common room, he unclenched his hands and released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His mind and emotions were a swirling mess.

What the hell was going on?

Harry stared absently straight ahead as he pulled on his gloves and adjusted them. The first Quidditch match of the year had finally come: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He had to admit he was nervous, considering the temperament of everyone in the school. He was also anxious about how his team would perform. Their ability to work as a team had continued to be hit or miss in practice. Even now, no one was speaking.

He gave up fiddling with his gloves and walked over to grab his broom. They would be called to the pitch soon. He glanced around at his team.

“Everyone, huddle up,” he called out.

They all looked at him before moving to join him.

“It’s the first match and we have a lot to prove,” he said. “This is a brand new team. Today is when we prove we’re just as good and even better than any other team that’s come before us.”

He paused to gauge reaction. There wasn’t much of one and he sighed.

“You each know what to do. You made the team for a reason. You’re good, but today, you have to be great. To do that, you have to work together. Use our plays, make calls, and rely on each other. Whatever issues you have, you leave in here,” Harry said. He looked at each of them in turn. “Got it?”

“Got it, Captain,” they all said together. It wasn’t as enthusiastic as he would’ve liked, but he would take it.

“Good. Let’s go.”

He led the way to the doors to the pitch. They stood in twos with Harry alone in front. He took a deep breath as the doors opened with Seamus Finnigan announcing their team’s entrance. They hopped onto their brooms and zoomed into the air, circling the pitch. He flew to the center of the pitch to wait for Malfoy and his team.

It was only a few seconds later that he watched the Slytherins make their own rounds of the pitch before taking their positions, Malfoy in front of him.

They stared steadily into each other’s eyes, hardly listening to Madam Hooch review the rules and reinforce her desire for a clean game. Given how the year had been going so far, he was certain she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

“Captains, shake hands.”

Their eyes narrowing, Harry and Malfoy clasped hands. Harry frowned when a feeling of electricity travelled up his arm. He had little time to contemplate, however, as they released each other after only a second and flew off, replaced by Chasers.

He glanced away from Ginny and at Ron. He knew his friend had been extremely nervous for his first match. Harry gave a small smile and nod when their eyes met, receiving the same in return.

He returned his attention to Ginny in the center just as the whistle was blown and the Quaffle released. Ginny won the throw, but not without receiving an immediate shoulder check from Vaisey as she flew past. The Slytherin Chaser raced after her. Ginny ducked under a Bludger and was nearly in range to take a shot on Keeper Isaac Claimorn when Chaser Cassius Warrington came from seemingly nowhere and rushed Ginny, punching the Quaffle out from where it was tucked under her arm. Harry winced in sympathy as he saw the force of the punch wrench her arm and then it was pulled even harder when Warrington purposely hooked his arm into hers after the punch as he flew by.

Keeping an eye on Malfoy, Harry tracked the game, slowly moving around the outside. It didn’t take long for the match to turn vicious. Neither team was holding back, allowing the game to be an excuse to act on the anger and hatred they all felt. He wasn’t listening to Seamus’ commentary, more focused on watching what was happening and hoping no one was killed.

He grimaced as Demelza Robins was crushed between Warrington and Urquhart, clearly knocking the wind out of her and forcing her to drop the Quaffle. Vaisey swiped the falling Quaffle and made a beeline for Ron at the goalposts. Vaisey kicked out at Ginny as she came for him, forcing her to pull back. Katie Bell flew by to try and knock the Quaffle from Vaisey’s grip, but he threw an elbow, catching her in the face.

His stomach dropped as he watched his long-time teammate spiral to the ground in her daze, but blew out a relieved breath when she caught herself. He watched her swipe a hand across her face before rising back up to rejoin the game. He cringed again at the blood smeared across her face and the blood continuing to flow from her obviously broken nose.

He groaned as Slytherin got another goal despite Ron’s best efforts. He glanced at the score. Either they needed more goals or he had to catch the Snitch before Slytherin could get three more goals.

He swung his attention back to the match when he registered screams from the stands. He spotted the issue just in time to see Demelza flung back into both Urquhart and a Hufflepuff spectator stand by a Bludger from Gregory Goyle that slammed into her shoulder. While clearly in agony, she gained her bearings quickly and swung her other elbow back, hitting Urquhart in the throat so she could fly away before he could do anything more to her.

He was thrilled when Ginny got a shot past Claimorn and chuckled at her rude gesture that accompanied the goal.

He looked over at Malfoy, but nothing had changed. The Slytherin Seeker was doing much the same as him, watching the violent game and hoping to spot the Snitch soon.

He was startled by the Bludger suddenly coming his way and dodged effortlessly. However, he had to duck quickly when his own Beater, Ritchie Coote hit the Bludger back towards him, seeming to either not notice or care.

“Coote!” he yelled. “Focus! You want to hit the Slytherins, not me!”

Ritchie seemed to glare as he nodded and flew off. Harry shook his head, turning back around to face the match. During the brief distraction, Slytherin had gotten another goal, but Vaisey was spitting out blood from a Gryffindor punch.

He audibly gasped when Ritchie and Jimmy Peakes swung their bats together, connecting with either side of Vaisey’s head. The Slytherin’s eyes rolled and he went limp, plummeting to the ground unconscious. Ritchie joined the Slytherin when Crabbe and Goyle each aimed a Bludger at the Gryffindor Beaters. However, Goyle’s aim was off and both Bludgers hit Ritchie, one in the abdomen, and one grazed his head. Ritchie was thrown from his broom and hit the ground hard.

He had to end this. They wouldn’t have teams left at this rate. He narrowed his eyes and let his gaze dart around, searching intently for the Snitch.

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin got another goal while he searched. More assaults and injuries were also gained between the two teams.

Desperation filled him as he watched a Bludger slam into Ginny’s leg square on the knee, forcing it in a direction he knew should be impossible. In pained response, Ginny spun her broom up and around as Crabbe flew past her with a sadistic grin that was wiped off as her broom hit him in the face. They both spun out of control for a moment, but were back in quickly. Ginny flew directly under Warrington as she caught the Quaffle from Katie, making him spin to avoid her and allowing her to get another goal as the Quaffle hit Caimorn in the chest with such force he fell through the hoop.

Then he saw it. The Snitch was fluttering by the base of the Gryffindor goalposts. He took off instantly, pushing his Firebolt as fast as it could possible go. He was so close and was surprised at how easy of a catch it would be when he had an entire body slam into him from the side. The impact threw him off course and into one of the posts. He cried out when he felt something snap in his side. He wrapped an arm around his ribs and blinked rapidly, clearing the tears and blurring pain from his eyes. He immediately spotted Malfoy chasing the Snitch and took off, dodging the other players that still seemed intent on causing as much harm as they could to each other. He gritted his teeth as his broken ribs continued to shift painfully. He did his best to ignore it as he caught up with Malfoy and matched the Slytherin’s speed.

They soared around the pitch, weaving through players and goalposts as they shoved each other with shoulders and knees. At one point, they both reached out as they were nearly in range of catching the Snitch. They swiped and gouged at each other’s hands, both drawing blood from fingernails. Malfoy apparently determined scratching wasn’t enough so he grabbed a couple of Harry’s fingers and yanked hard to the side, all before Harry had a chance to react. He screamed as his fingers broke and, without even thinking, he kicked out hard. He made contact with the blonde’s knee and Malfoy let out his own pained cry, and he was forced off course, crashing into a Gryffindor stand.

Harry looked back at the Snitch and reached out with the hand that had been holding his ribs. Squeezing his broom with his thighs to stay on, he pushed harder and leaned forward as far as he dared. When he felt the hummingbird-like wings graze his fingers, he closed them, bringing the Snitch into his palm.

The whistle rang out and he let out a relieved sigh, glad it was over. He was moving to get a bit closer to the ground to dismount when he was knocked from his broom by the Quaffle hitting him hard directly in the center of his back.

He groaned and gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs and he hit the ground.

“You bastard! The whistle had gone! That was intentional!”

He looked up at Ron’s angry voice and his eyes widened at the sight of the still standing, conscious players getting in each other’s faces. He pushed himself up as quick as he could and stumbled over to try and stop what he knew was about to happen.

“Oh yeah?” Warrington sneered. “And what’re you gonna do about it, Mudblood lover?”

Ron’s eyes flashed and, despite having clear damage to his hand, clenched it into a fist and swung. There seemed to be a second where everyone looked at Ron and Warrington and determined what to do. After that second, both teams devolved into bringing the violence from the match to the ground.

It didn’t matter that they had shattered bones, were covered in blood, had blurred vision from concussions and pain, or that they could barely stand for various reasons. They had to continue what the match had started.

He was about to try and separate Ron and Warrington when his head snapped to the side from a blow to his cheek. He turned to Malfoy with a glare and threw his own punch.

He had no idea how long they were all fighting. He was about to land a kick to Malfoy’s already injured, probably broken knee when magic forced all of them apart. Every player was gently, but firmly thrown in a different direction and left on the ground.

“Enough!” Dumbledore’s voice roared.

Aching all over, Harry wrapped his arm around his torso again and pushed himself onto his other elbow so he could see the headmaster. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick had left the stands and were walking across the pitch to the teams with Madam Hooch. He briefly wondered why Hooch hadn’t made any calls to stop the violence during the match. The thought left quickly as he looked around at all the other players, most of who were also sitting up to some degree to see the professors.

“I have never been so appalled by the conduct of students at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said angrily. “What is meant to be a friendly competition was turned into a battlefield of hate today, and I have never been so disappointed.”

Dumbledore’s gazed roamed over the players. When they met Harry’s, he frowned. The headmaster’s face was hard and serious, but there was something in the blue eyes that didn’t match the face or tone.

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, please see your students to the Hospital Wing. Professor Flitwick, please assist with bringing the unconscious players there,” Dumbledore said. “Each and every one of you has earned detention for your deplorable behaviour. You will receive an owl with details at a later date. On your way now.”

Harry watched the headmaster sweep back to the castle before pushing himself to his feet with a groan. He waited where he was for the rest of his team to join him. In various stages of what could be considered ‘able-bodied’, the Gryffindors limped, shuffled, and stumbled their way to the Hospital Wing with McGonagall in the lead. Once there, they all collapsed into beds without any prompting from Madam Pomfrey. The Slytherins followed close behind, not in any better condition. Once they were in beds, Flitwick entered with floating stretchers carrying the still unconscious Vaisey and Ritchie.

No one spoke except Pomfrey. A student only spoke if asked a question. Snape and McGonagall stood in the center of the Wing but on the side with their students, arms crossed and glaring. As she examined students, injuries were muttered aloud with frustration and disappointment.

Concussions…broken nose…dislocated shoulder…broken collarbone…fractured leg…broken fingers…sprained wrist…broken ribs…punctured lung…severe lacerations…shattered knee…burst blood vessels…torn muscles and ligaments…broken teeth…internal bleeding…

“You would think these children had fought a war, not played a game of Quidditch!” Pomfrey exclaimed, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disapproval. She got to work, though, administering all types of medical care to treat and heal her more than a dozen patients.

Harry was one of the last to receive treatment. His broken fingers and ribs were easily healed though he was still bandaged to help the freshly healed bones remain stable. He had a concussion, a sprained ankle, severe bruising, and numerous cuts. Compared to most of the others, he’d escaped relatively unscathed.

“Get comfortable, all of you,” Pomfrey said. “Not a single one of you is leaving until tomorrow at the earliest. Many of you will be here for a few days.”

Harry let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh, both annoyed and exhausted. He couldn’t even feel good about winning the match because of how aggressive they had all been. Pomfrey was right. It hadn’t been like they were just playing Quidditch; something else had come out.

Harry opened his eyes with a frown. He was certain he had just had the dream about the woman again. Like last time, he couldn’t remember anything, could hardly remember her, but he was sure she was there again. She left a feeling of familiarity behind.

As he stared through the dark up at the high ceiling, he couldn’t help but contemplate all he had been experiencing in his interactions with various people. The amplified anger and hate they all seemed to be feeling, the magical explosion in Defense, the electrical jolt when he and Malfoy shook hands, the similar jolt when he met Snape’s eyes, the chill when he met Dumbledore’s…

It was like there was a barrier hiding things from him, but was crumbling, letting these things slip through the cracks.

All of a sudden, there was a hand over his mouth and a wand to his throat. His eyes widened but then narrowed as they met well-known grey ones swirling with fury. A mild pain ran through his head and he was suddenly seeing a younger version of himself and Malfoy laughing together. As quick as it came, the image was gone.

“If you ever touch me again or whatever you did in Defense, I will kill you,” Malfoy said in a deadly whisper. With a snarl, Malfoy slipped away back to his bed, leaving Harry with a pounding heart and extreme confusion.

November was turning out to be the longest month of Harry’s life. Due to the aftermath of the Quidditch match, he had been forced to miss two of his detentions with Snape, causing the professor to decide the missed days would just be added on. He was still waiting for details on his detention for his role in the disastrous Quidditch match. He hadn’t heard from Dumbledore about getting to view another memory. Defense had become a complete disaster for everyone involved since the Quidditch match. He still had teammates in the Hospital Wing. He had nothing but confusion about his reactions to interacting with Snape, Malfoy, and Dumbledore. And, finally, he was still having nightmares along with the dream with the woman he could never remember.

He was sat with Ron and Hermione at Gryffindor table. The only sounds in the Great Hall were that of cutlery on dishes and the occasional rustle of robes. No one was speaking or even whispering. Even he, Ron, and Hermione hadn’t spoken a word.

Like him, Ron had come out of the match and fight with milder injuries. He’d had a concussion, a fractured cheekbone, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken hand. It was all healed instantly with just a night of observation and tight bandages to keep all of his healed hand bones in place. His hand was still bandaged, but they would be removed the next day.

Harry glanced up when he heard flapping and watched several owls circle the Great Hall. They flew over a few students, including himself, and dropped letters. Seeing who got letters, he realized these were likely the detention details from Dumbledore for the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams. He turned back to his own, noticing he had two.

He opened one, absently watching Ron open his detention details. He moved his attention back to his own mail and found this one to be another meeting invitation.

Harry, 

Join me in my office after dinner tonight. I have more to show you. 

Professor Dumbledore 

He felt excitement at getting to see more memories of Voldemort. He was intrigued by the tidbits of information Dumbledore was finally allowing him to receive. He folded the invitation and moved to his other letter, tearing it open.

Mr. Potter, 

Tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock, you will serve your detention with Professor Snape for your participation in Wednesday’s altercation. You and Mr. Draco Malfoy will serve your detentions together and will assist Professor Snape with inventory, cleaning, and anything else he requests for as long as he requires. If I hear of any issues, more severe consequences will occur. 

Headmaster Dumbledore 

Harry dropped the letter, outraged. He had to serve more detention with Snape, and he had to do it with Malfoy? What was Dumbledore thinking?

“What’s Dumbledore got you doing, mate?” Ron asked. Looking at the redhead, Ron obviously wasn’t thrilled with his detention either.

“Malfoy and I are doing it together with Snape,” Harry grumbled. “You?”

“I’m with Goyle and we have to report to McGonagall,” Ron said despondently. “Why would he have us do joint detentions with the Slytherins?” He cast a glare at the Slytherin table.

“To teach you how to get along and work together, Ronald,” Hermione said, sounding irritated. “You all acted like children.”

Ron turned his glare on her. “Didn’t see you out there trying to stop the bastards from breaking all the rules and beating the hell out of us.”

“You retaliated in the same way rather than being mature and taking the high ground,” Hermione said.

“Were you watching the same match we were playing?” Ron said, dumbfounded. “There was no high ground to take, in case you hadn’t noticed, princess.” 

Hermione threw him an angry, hurt look before getting to her feet and storming from the Hall. Ron clenched his teeth before slamming his fork down onto the table. Harry jumped at the sound.

“See you later,” Ron said before also stalking out of the Hall.

Harry shook his head and pushed his plate away.

Harry walked into the headmaster’s office and took a seat. He waited to feel the odd chill he had felt the other day in the Great Hall when he had met Dumbledore’s eyes, but, this time, there was nothing. Even the strange look he thought he’d seen in the man’s eyes after the Quidditch match wasn’t there. It was just the same sparkling blue eyes he’d seen on the man for the last five years. Maybe he had imagined the chill and the expression. Maybe he had just imagined everything.

“How are you feeling tonight, my boy?” Dumbledore asked. Harry knew he was referring to the Quidditch match and his scheduled detention the next day.

“I’m alright, sir,” Harry said, not really sure how he felt.

Dumbledore gazed at Harry over his half-moon glasses. “I trust I do not have to repeat my disappointment in your behaviour or tell you my expectation that something like this will never happen again.”

“No, sir, you don’t, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good. You know better and the other students look up to you, so you must set an example.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. “Shall we begin?”

Harry nodded and got up to stand by the Pensieve, watching Dumbledore retrieve a memory from the glass cabinet. He looked at Dumbledore expectantly as the headmaster joined him at the Pensieve.

“Tonight, I am going to show you one of my memories,” Dumbledore said. “This is the first time I met Voldemort when he was a young boy named Tom Riddle.”

Harry was surprised Dumbledore knew Voldemort before he came to Hogwarts. He watched Dumbledore pour the memory into the Pensieve. He quickly entered the memory, finding himself standing at a doorway with the Dumbledore he knew and a younger version.

He gazed around, taking in the large, dark building and the huge fence in the distance that seemed to surround the property. He turned to the building and saw the plaque attached to the wall beside the doors.

Wool’s Orphanage, it read.

The door opened, revealing a stern-looking woman of about sixty-five. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun and she wore a conservative green dress buttoned at the shoulder.

“Mr. Dumbledore, I presume?” she said.

Dumbledore inclined his head, tipping his hat slightly. “Indeed. Mrs. Cole, correct?”

She nodded and stepped back, opening the door fully and waving Dumbledore inside. They followed the two inside and followed as they walked slowly through the orphanage.

“How can I help you, Mr. Dumbledore? You were not specific in your visitation request,” Mrs. Cole asked, clasping her hands in front of her as they walked.

“I am headmaster of a school for special children and I believe one of your charges would do quite well there,” Dumbledore explained vaguely.

“Is that so?” Mrs. Cole said, humming. “I’m afraid you may have come to the wrong orphanage. None of our children are particularly remarkable.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the cold, uncaring way Mrs. Cole talked about the orphaned children she was responsible for. This was the type of place his aunt and uncle always threatened him with growing up.

“Well, I think I’d like to determine that for myself,” Dumbledore said.

“Very well,” Mrs. Cole sighed. “Who would you like to evaluate?”

“What can you tell me about Tom Riddle?”

Mrs. Cole’s face tightened and she stopped their walk. She turned to him with a frown.

“Tom is a strange and troubled boy. He always has been. I don’t think he would be a good fit for your school,” she told him.

“Could you tell me about him?” Dumbledore pressed.

Mrs. Cole pursed her lips, clearly debating if she wanted to talk about Tom Riddle or not. Finally, she sighed again and stared at Dumbledore with hard eyes.

“Tom has been with us since he was born. He was born here. His mother came to us in labour. It was a difficult birth, one she, sadly, did not survive. She lived long enough to tell us his name,” Mrs. Cole explained. “Strange things happen around Tom and he does terrible things.”

“Such as?”

“He torments the other children, bullies then in horrible ways,” Mrs. Cole said. “Several years ago, he killed another child’s poor pet rabbit. Horrible what he did to the poor creature.”

“I’m sure,” Dumbledore said sympathetically.

“A couple of years ago, we took the children on a trip not far away. Tom went to a cave with a couple other boys. We don’t know what he did to them, they won’t speak of it, but they have never been the same since that day,” Mrs. Cole continued. “He frightens the children, Mr. Dumbledore, and he harms them. He’s got this frightening language as well, full of hissing. Created it himself, I imagine. He even frightens me, I’m afraid.”

“I understand how difficult it has probably been for you to care for such a troubled child. You have done well in caring for him,” Dumbledore said. “I believe my school could help young Tom and you.”

“Even if that’s so, the boy has no family and no way to afford such education,” Mrs. Cole said.

“Not to worry,” Dumbledore said. “We have a wonderful scholarship program for students like Tom. There would be no need to worry about costs. Tom would spend the school year at the school, but you would have to allow him back here in the summer months.”

Mrs. Cole hummed, obviously thinking.

“Might I meet Tom while you consider my offer?” Dumbledore requested.

“Yes, I suppose. This way,” Mrs. Cole said and led Dumbledore down a corridor. She stopped at a door and knocked. “Tom, you have a visitor,” she said as she pushed the door open.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said. “If we could have a moment alone?”

Mrs. Cole gave a tight nod before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Dumbledore sat in the chair by the door and looked at the child that was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Harry finally looked away from the young Dumbledore and let his eyes fall on the child version of the madman he had been fighting the last few years of his life. He searched for the dark wizard he knew inside this young boy. Tom had short, dark brown hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. His face was twisted into an expression of eternal anger, hatred, and distrust even at only eleven years old. The boy’s eyes were glued to Dumbledore.

“Hello, Tom,” Dumbledore said gently.

“Are you from the hospital?” Tom asked tensely.

“No, I am not a doctor.”

“You’re not here to take me away to the asylum?” Tom said.

“No, I am not.”

“They think I’m crazy,” Tom said. “I’m not crazy.”

“I know you’re not, Tom. You’re special,” Dumbledore said and Tom’s eyes narrowed. He had clearly never heard anything resembling a compliment before. “I’m like you, Tom, and that’s why I’m here.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed further, suspicious. “Who are you?”

“My name is Professor Dumbledore. I teach at a school for children like you. It’s a school of magic.”

“Prove it,” Tom spat.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, the wardrobe to Dumbledore’s left was suddenly engulfed in flames. Tom’s eyes grew wide. After a few seconds, they began to hear a loud rattling from inside the wardrobe.

“It would seem there is something in your wardrobe that wants out, something that does not belong to you,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Tom stood and slowly walked over to the wardrobe. The flames moved away from the doors, allowing Tom to open them. He pulled a tin from the top shelf and opened it, dumping the contents onto his bed.

“I can teach you how to do that,” Dumbledore said as the wardrobe extinguished itself with no damage done. “I can teach you many things, but we do not tolerate theft or the harming of others at Hogwarts.”

Tom looked up at him.

“What kinds of things can you do, Tom?”

“I can make them hurt if I want, just by thinking about it. I can make them do anything I want,” Tom said, emotionless. “I can also talk to snakes. Can everyone like us do that?”

Dumbledore gave him a steady gaze. “No, that is a very special gift. At Hogwarts, you can discover all your gifts and learn to control them. You can become a great wizard.”

Tom stared at Dumbledore, but before he could respond, Harry and Dumbledore left the memory and returned to Dumbledore’s office. They retook their seats.

“Did you know?” Harry asked.

“Who he could become?” Dumbledore said and Harry nodded. “No, I didn’t, though perhaps I should have. He was clearly troubled and powerful and drawn to dark magic, but I hoped I could help him onto a better path. Naivety, on my part.”

“What happened to cause Merope to end up there, alone and dying? How did she die?”

“After some time, Merope convinced herself that Tom Riddle truly loved her, so she stopped giving him the love potion. She was incorrect in her assumption, and he rejected her. When she told him she was pregnant, he attempted to flee. She erased his memory and returned home as we discussed last time.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Merope.

“Unable to handle all the rejection and abuse, she stopped using her magic. Her shame destroyed her and she came to fear and hate her magic,” Dumbledore continued to explain. “This fear and hatred turned inwards and her magical core began to diminish.”

“That can happen?” Harry said, shocked, and Dumbledore nodded.

“Merope decided she couldn’t bear to have Tom Riddle’s child, so she went to an orphanage. She could have saved herself if she had used her magic,” Dumbledore said. “However, she had already given up on everything by that point. She couldn’t bear to live, not even for her son.”

Now Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for Voldemort. He had a father that hated him and his mother for what they were, and then ultimately had no knowledge of their existence. Then, he had a mother that didn’t love him and couldn’t even stay alive for him. He was left with a name and nothing more.

Was abandonment, abuse, and loneliness what it took for Voldemort to become such a dark wizard? Could it be so easy for him to follow the same path considering his life with the Dursleys? There had been an anger inside him all his life and, with all he’d been feeling that year, like in Defense that day. Maybe he was already heading in that direction.

“Of course, this was my first time meeting Tom, but there is another reason I wanted to show you this memory,” Dumbledore said. “You noticed his trophies from the children he had hurt at the orphanage.”

Harry nodded, curious why that was important.

“While it hasn’t been until recently that I understood, this was an early indication of Tom’s collecting obsession. Tom desired connection and belonging and possession. Later in his life, he would come to desire very special objects.”

“Like what?”

“Another time,” Dumbledore said and Harry frowned, disappointed. “I think it’s time you returned to bed.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he also knew Dumbledore wouldn’t change his mind, so he said good night and returned to the Tower. He stayed up with Ron and Hermione until late, telling them everything about that night’s memory and discussion.

“There will be no talking outside your task. Potter, you will count and, Malfoy, you will record,” Snape instructed. “When you are finished, come see me for your next task. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry and Malfoy said in unison. They glared at each other as though speaking at the same time was the greatest of offences.

“Go,” Snape said, waving them off. “And, Potter.”

Harry turned to face him.

“Do try not to break anything. You will not like my response if you do.”

Harry glowered at the insinuation he couldn’t do the simple task of counting ingredients without causing damage. Without responding, he turned back around and followed Malfoy to the ingredient storeroom. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars and tins and boxes. As Malfoy sat at the small desk on the stool and pulled out a leather-bound notebook, Harry pushed the rolling ladder so he could start at the very top left.

“Let’s go, Potter,” Malfoy snapped. “Ingredient, quantity, and oldest dated one.”

Harry climbed the ladder and looked at the label on the front jar. “Asphodel, whole flower.” He quickly counted the jars. “Twelve.” He dug through the jars to double-check the dates, confirming the oldest was at the very front as it should be. “August tenth, nineteen ninety-six.”

Once he heard the quill stop scratching, he moved onto the next ingredient, sat in vials. “Amber, liquid. Twenty-four. January eighteenth, nineteen ninety-six.”

And so they continued on through all of the ingredients. Besides Harry reading off information, neither of them spoke. The work was uncomfortable. He was tense and stiff the entire time, especially considering he was on a ladder with his back to the Slytherin. After a little over an hour, they finished and left the storeroom. They stood in front of Snape at his desk.

“You have completed the inventory?” Snape asked.

“Yes, sir,” they said together again.

“For the remainder of your detention, you will be preparing and preserving ingredients,” Snape said and gestured for them to go to desks that were covered in ingredients and storage containers.

Harry looked at the supplies in surprise. Snape was trusting him to properly prepare ingredients?

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Snape sneered. “Given your complete inability to do basic preparation techniques, you will be completing the preservation step. Surely even you can find and pour the correct liquid when spelled out for you.”

Harry clenched his teeth and glared deeply at the professor’s insults.

“Instructions for each ingredient is on the desk. Follow them exactly,” Snape said. “Mr. Malfoy, when you complete an ingredient, pass it to Potter for preservation.”

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy said.

“Get to work.”

Snape returned to his desk and Harry looked down at the materials on the desk. There were a few larger jars of preservation liquids, a variety of bottles, jars, and vials, a couple piles of ingredients that didn’t require prior preparation before preservation, and instructions on how to preserve each ingredient he would eventually receive.

He blew out a breath to release at least some of the anger he felt at Snape’s words and read how to preserve rattlesnake rattles. The longer he worked, the calmer he felt which wasn’t anything he had ever felt when it came to anything related to Potions. Preservation was proving to be quite simple. All he had to do was measure the correct amount of the required liquids, mix them together, and then add the proper amount of the ingredient being preserved. It was a relaxing task. It also helped that he didn’t have Snape breathing down his neck or Slytherins trying to make his potion explode.

He was in the middle of carefully pouring one of the fluids into a narrow vial when his elbow was bumped by Malfoy dropping the next ingredient on his table. He gasped as the bump made him knock over the vial, spilling the liquid inside it. He cursed and put his measuring cup with the remaining liquid down to prevent more spillage.

“Potter!” Snape shouted, making him jump. “Are you truly this much of an idiot?”

Harry stuttered, glancing at Malfoy. His eyes hardened at the smirk on the blonde’s face. He had done it on purpose! “Sir, it wasn’t my fault. Malfoy, he—”

“Take some responsibility for once in your life, Potter, and just admit even this simple task is beyond what your infantile brain is capable of.”

Harry felt his body grow hot and he clenched his fists so tight his nails cut into his palms.

“As you have proven incapable and untrustworthy to handle these ingredients, detention is over,” Snape said. “Both of you, get out.”

“But, sir, I—”

“Get out!” Snape growled, grabbing Harry’s shoulder and shoving him roughly towards the door.

A sharp pain pierced his skull, making him wince.

“You have improved,” a whisper of Snape’s voice said as he looked down at the cauldron in front of a younger version of himself.

With another sharp pain, the vision was gone before he could even try to understand what he saw. Putting a hand to his head in pain, he stumbled out of the classroom. He leaned on the wall directly beside the door, hoping his new headache would disappear.

He jumped and glared when Malfoy shoulder-checked him as he walked by. The Slytherin was still smirking as he walked away, Harry’s eyes burning into the back of his blonde head.

Harry shook his head and left the dungeons, making his way to the Great Hall for an early dinner.

Harry blinked as the bright light blinded him for a moment. When it dimmed, he looked around and found nothing but white. He frowned. He turned slowly, hoping to spot something in the never-ending white abyss. 

He paused when he felt another presence join him. He tensed and turned, watching the figure come towards him. He furrowed his eyebrows as she came into view. She was regal. She had long, flowing brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She was tall and slender. She was in a dress that resembled a saree, but with less traditional beading and intricacies, and it only had a layer that wrapped around her waist and was pinned to her right shoulder, allowing it to drape down her side. It was a deep, royal purple with gold trim. Short strings of gold and silver beads were sewn along the neckline and hung down on her chest. She was wearing a necklace, a pendant on a silver chain. He couldn’t make out the pendant’s design, but he did see the glittering of four coloured gems: red, blue, green, and yellow. 

He frowned at her again as she came to a stop a short distance in front of him, clasping her hands together. She gave him a gentle, warm smile. 

“Who are you?” Harry asked. 

The woman just smiled as a breeze from nowhere picked up, gently blowing her hair around her face. 

“Who are you?” he asked again, but, again, the woman responded only with a smile. 

He was about to demand a response when he was pulled away and landed in an entirely new scene. His eyes darted around, taking in the different environment before he was suddenly moving out of his control. He was in front of a large house made of brick with dark blue double doors and stained glass windows. He walked up to the doors, raised his hand with his wand, and blew the doors open. 

A scream came from inside and he was met by an older woman when he was only a few steps inside. She appeared to be in her forties with fair skin, high cheekbones, and thin lips. She had red hair in ringlets pinned back to they sat on the back of her neck. She looked very familiar to him, but he didn’t have much more time to contemplate as he, once again, raised his wand at her. 

“You…” was all the woman could said before the more than familiar green light left his wand and hit her in the chest. 

He screamed in his mind as all light left her eyes and she fell to the ground, wishing he could scream aloud and get some help. 

He didn’t want this!

Harry flew up in bed, breathing hard and sweat pouring down his face. His scar burned. He hadn’t had visions since the one last year that led him to the Ministry and Sirius’ death. He thought that part of his connection with Voldemort had been blocked by Voldemort. That’s what Dumbledore had theorized. Voldemort had been harmed or frightened by Harry’s power during the possession and would block Harry from his mind to avoid anything like that again. Voldemort feared Harry gaining control of their connection.

So, what had changed? Why did he get this vision now? Was Voldemort weaker or losing control somehow? It didn’t seem possible. There had to be a reason, something else going on.

Voldemort could be building to something and he wanted Harry to see it.

It was finally December and the castle had been dressed up for the month for Christmas. Aside from quick meals in the Great Hall, Harry hadn’t had much time to admire and enjoy the decorations. He’d been kept busy with classes, homework, and finishing up his detentions with Snape.

He was finishing up his final detention, scrubbing the final cauldron. The detentions hadn’t been that terrible. It had been a long two weeks, but he’d only had to clean cauldrons, tools, and jars and Snape had mostly left him alone. There was always some insulting comment from Snape at the start, but that was all.

He dried the cauldron and lifted it onto the stack to the side of the wash basins. He was turning to clean up when the towers of cauldrons toppled over. Unable to get out of the way quick enough, he was hit by the falling cauldrons with one catching him hard above the eye. He felt the skin split and the blood start flowing immediately. The impact of the cauldrons knocked him backwards and to the floor. He slammed into a cabinet filled with the spare jars, bottles, and vials.

He looked up, dazed, as the cabinet shook before burying his face in his knees and throwing his arms over his head as the jars began to fall. Glass rained down on and around him, shattering. He gasped and cried out as shards of glass cut him and pierced into his skin.

It seemed to last forever and pain was ringing through his body from the numerous injuries.

“Potter!”

He jumped at the shout and raised his head to look at Snape with wide eyes, his face covered in tears and blood.

“What in the hell did you do, you imbecile?” Snape yelled, making Harry flinch. He tried to start pushing himself away from Snape to escape his rage and any potential violence, but hissed in pain and stopped after putting his hands on the floor only to have glass push into his palms. “Potter, do not move,” the professor growled.

Harry flinched again as Snape stormed towards him, angrily waving his wand to banish the glass from around Harry.

“Alright, up, Potter. Get out of the storeroom,” Snape said, reaching out to grab Harry’s arms to help him up. Harry involuntarily yanked away from Snape’s unexpected touch, thinking the man was going to hurt him. He saw Snape’s eyebrows come together and he frowned, but he didn’t comment on Harry’s reaction. “Come on,” he said and reached out to Harry again.

Realizing Snape was just going to help him up, he allowed the man to find spots on his arms without glass to hold and pull him to his feet. He groaned and hissed as all movement jostled the glass in his back and arms. Snape slowly guided him out of the storeroom and back to the classroom. He looked down at his hands to see he was shaking. It registered that blood was stinging his eye and he instinctively raised his hand to wipe the blood away, but Snape stopped him, gently grabbing his wrist.

“Think, Potter,” Snape said quietly. “We don’t want glass in your eye, do we?”

Harry just blinked dumbly, his brain fighting to keep up.

“Let me see,” Snape said and Harry raised his head, meeting the professor’s eyes. He watched Snape’s wand come up and touch his forehead where he knew he had a huge gash from the cauldron. He felt the magic stitch his skin back together. “Hands.”

He raised his hands, palm up. Snape grasped each wrist and, using magic, carefully removed the glass pieces from his hands and sealed the cuts, leaving behind pink lines.

“Remove your shirt, Potter. I must see your back.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he instantly began to panic as he pictured his scarred back. Snape couldn’t see that, no one could. He started shaking his head.

“No, no, I’m fine, I’ll go,” he said shakily.

“Potter, don’t be stupid. You are covered in glass that needs to be removed, but I can’t do that with your shirt on,” Snape said snappishly.

“No, I can’t, it’s okay,” Harry argued weakly.

“I can remove it with magic, if that is the issue,” Snape offered.

“That’s not it. I…I just can’t…I…I don’t want…” Harry stuttered, trying to find what to say or do to get out of the situation.

“Potter, get a hold of yourself. You need treatment so push through your childish embarrassment,” Snape said, sounding more irritated. “I am going to remove your shirt so I can see your injuries.”

Before he could argue again, his shirt was banished and Snape was turning him around. He stiffened and let his eyes fall shut as he felt Snape still and the man’s hand tighten ever so slightly on his shoulder. In the suffocating silence, he started trying to find something to say, a way to explain. He couldn’t let anyone, especially Snape of all people, know the truth of his life with his relatives.

“I—” he didn’t get a chance to say anything.

“Shut up, Potter,” Snape said, his voice low and tight.

Harry obeyed, a little grateful for the chance to collect himself and think. He felt Snape remove the glass from his back and shoulders and arms. He wrung his hands together as the professor healed his back. Once healed, he felt Snape step back. He didn’t move for several seconds, still unsure what to do or say. Eventually, he turned and met Snape’s eyes again. He frowned at the pull he felt in his mind and the short scene that played in front of his eyes.

A younger version of him was shirtless and crying while Snape grasped his upper arms, looking at him with what seemed to be a gentle, sympathetic expression.

“Let me help you,” Snape said to the younger Harry who looked at him with teary eyes.

“Why?” young Harry whispered.

“Because you deserve it,” Snape said and the scene ended, leaving behind a sharp, pounding pain in his head.

“I…I can explain,” Harry attempted, but stopped when Snape held up a hand.

“Do not even try, Potter,” Snape said. “I know abuse when I see it.”

Harry shook his head again. He wasn’t abused. That’s not what it was. It was just punishment when he acted out. “That’s not—”

“Stop,” Snape said firmly. “It’s abuse and I will not listen to any other explanations or excuses you have come up with over the years. I assume it’s your relatives, likely your uncle in particular?”

Harry swallowed thickly, continuing to twist his fingers together. He didn’t know what to say. He’d hid it for so long, he never imagined what he would do if someone found out. He didn’t believe anyone would ever find out.

“I also assume no one knows?” Snape said but Harry still didn’t speak.

He was terrified, embarrassed, and confusion was joining in at Snape’s calm, almost kind behaviour. This was not the Snape he knew. Snape was angry and despised him. Snape would never act like this, especially not when he finally had proof Harry was disciplined, not worshipped, by his relatives.

“Potter,” Snape said and Harry looked at him again. “Let me help you.”

Harry frowned, the vision he’d just had flashing in his mind again. “Why?”

Something changed in the dark eyes. “Because you deserve it.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue and he didn’t look away. As they gazed at each other, he felt an odd pulse in the air around them and a pressure in his already pained head.

Harry winced as the two Chasers body-checked each other so hard one of them was knocked off their broom. If anyone had thought the last Quidditch match was brutal simply because it had between Gryffindor and Slytherin, they were currently being proven wrong. This match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff was just as vicious. Three players had already been taken out and they had only been playing for about an hour.

He leaned on the railing of the stands, watching the match with a faraway mind. It had been a couple days since his disastrous last detention with Snape. He’d been able to avoid the man since then, horrified that Snape found out about the Dursleys and confused by the image he’d seen and Snape’s seemingly kind and understanding reaction to the discovery. He didn’t know what to think.

He tracked the moves of one of Hufflepuff’s Chasers only to have his eyes meet Snape’s. He tensed, uncomfortable, but he didn’t look away. There was some other emotion he was feeling, but he couldn’t identify it. He recognized it as the vague feeling he’d felt during the few, strange visions he’d seen around Malfoy and Snape. He still couldn’t explain those visions either. While they were accompanied by head pain, it wasn’t his scar. It was like a headache, like he had been straining his mind too hard.

He couldn’t explain any of the things that had been happening lately.

He finally pulled his eyes away from Snape and refocused on the match just in time to see Ravenclaw’s Keeper take a Bludger to the side of the head, knocking him to the ground, out cold. He cringed at the blood pooling on the ground, visible even from up in the stands.

With the Ravenclaw Keeper out, Hufflepuff quickly wracked up points. After another fifty minutes, Ravenclaw managed to catch the Snitch, but still lost to Hufflepuff’s major lead.

“Let’s just wait for the crowds to thin out,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione who nodded in agreement. He mostly just wanted a break from the suffocating students and castle. It was exhausting being constantly surrounded by rage and hate and confusion. The school felt dim and dark and heavy, becoming such a weight on everyone inside.

Still leaning on the railing, he watched everyone cross the pitch and file back into the school. He felt a tiny ball of relief at finally being alone for the first time with Ron and Hermione without having to be concerned about who was around.

He looked back out at the now empty pitch only to have a flash of him, Ron, and Malfoy flying around, tossing a Quaffle and laughing. He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose at the pounding pressure in his head. After about a minute, the pressure lessened slightly and he opened his eyes again.

The short visions were happening more often. What was going on?

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked, stepping up to stand beside him with Ron, also leaning on the railing.

He didn’t respond immediately, wondering if he should tell them about the things he’d been seeing. He also wondered if they should talk about the things going on in the castle. They knew things were wrong, but they had never discussed it.

“I’m fine, but I’ve been…seeing things,” he admitted.

“Like with Sirius?” Hermione said and he pushed through the pang in his heart.

Harry shook his head, folding his hands together over the railing. “No, nothing like that. I’m not really sure what it is.”

“What’ve you seen?” Ron asked.

“It’s been like short flashes of…moments, almost like memories but they’re not things I remember ever happening,” Harry said.

“Does anything else happen?” Hermione asked.

“My head hurts. Not my scar,” he added hurriedly, “but my head feels like there’s a pressure, sort of like a headache.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I can do some research, if you’d like,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Severus Snape sat in front of the fireplace with a sigh, a glass of wine in one hand. He stared into the flames, contemplating many things, but mostly his last interaction with Potter. He hadn’t seen the boy since that day until now at the Quidditch match. The lack of interaction was all the better for him given his intense confusion.

Things had been odd, to say the least, inside the school that year. Students and staff alike appeared to recognize it, but seemed powerless to do anything about it. Rivalries between students had increased, seriousness among the staff had intensified, and anyone that had strong negative feelings about someone else found those feelings to be all-consuming.

He, like everyone else, assumed it was a result of the fear and pressure everyone felt at Voldemort being back and rebuilding his army, accelerating the war. That, however, did not explain the day with Potter.

He remembered feeling intense rage at the boy for causing such damage and then irritation at both his stupidity about moving and his refusal to follow instructions to remove his shirt. But, then, he’d seen Potter’s back. Underneath the mess of glass were dozens of scars, all different in cause, severity, and age. He hadn’t been able to do anything for some time as his mind fought to understand what the markings meant. He finally made himself move and begin healing the injuries from the glass.

He couldn’t believe it. Harry Potter was abused and severely at that.

When he heard Potter start to repeat some lie he’d likely come up with in the past, he couldn’t let the boy continue. He dealt with abused Slytherins every year and never let them feed him their lies and excuses. He had no interest in hearing such things, not after spending his entire childhood spewing the same phrases.

However, it was the end of the interaction he couldn’t get out of his head. He should’ve sent the boy to McGonagall or Pomfrey, let them deal with it, but he had felt something. A strange feeling had washed over him with a sense of déjà vu and a pressure in his head.

Instead of sending Potter away, he offered to help and even…comforted the boy by telling him he deserved to get help. Even with his Slytherins he never displayed such emotion. He kept himself distanced and indifferent, offering them only the practical necessities. He didn’t know what had come over him to treat Potter in such a way, especially considering he despised the boy all these years. A simple discovery of abuse didn’t erase the years of hate.

But, in that moment, that’s exactly what happened. For a moment at least, it was like a wall lifted and he forgot that he hated Harry Potter. Once the boy left, though, the hatred and rage returned, especially when he went to examine the damage done in the storeroom. In that moment, it was as though he had never discovered Potter’s secret and the boy had just been the menace he always was.

He sipped his wine and just let his mind wander, wishing the flames could provide some insight.

“Mr. Potter, how can I help you?” Snape asked a twelve-year-old Harry. 

Harry stood outside the Potions classroom, looking sad and uncomfortable and fiddling with his bag strap on his shoulder. “Sir, would you mind if I just sat in here for a little bit? I need to get away from everyone and no one will look for me here.” 

Snape considered Harry before pulling the door open and gesturing for Harry to enter. Harry gave a smile and slipped past Snape, dropping into his usual spot from class. He dropped his bag, folded his arms on the desk, and rested his chin on his arms with a sigh. 

“Might I inquire why you are using my classroom as refuge from the Hogwarts student body?” Snape asked casually. 

Harry glanced up with just his eyes, not moving his head. “What happened at the Dueling Club, remember? Everyone’s looking at me like I’m about to curse them or something, as though I’m evil because I can talk to snakes.” He huffed. “I didn’t even know it was really a thing or a big deal. I can’t tell when I’m doing it.” 

Snape hummed. “I see. And your friends?” 

“Think I’m the some-number-of-greats grandson of Salazar Slytherin. They’re not scared of me, but they do keep looking at me like I’m a bloody experiment or something.” 

“I see.” 

Harry glared up at the professor. “Is that all you’ve got to say?” 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I was unaware you were looking for advice. I thought you just wanted a place to hide.” 

Harry sighed. “Well, yeah, but…” He paused, biting his lip. “Are they all right?” 

“I know nothing about Salazar Slytherin’s lineage,” Snape said. 

Harry raised his head, sitting up. “No, not that. I don’t care about that.” He picked at a burn mark on his desk. “Am I evil?” 

“I’ve known much evil in my life and you, Mr. Potter, are as far from evil as one can get,” Snape said nonchalantly as though the conversation were perfectly normal. 

Harry’s eyes lightened up. “Really?” 

Snape just nodded. 

The smile he had gained was brief as it fell from his face when he clearly thought of something. “Dumbledore said—” 

“Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Potter, and please, do not quote that man to me,” Snape said and

Harry looked at him curiously. “There are some matters on which we disagree.” 

Harry nodded in understanding. “So, being a Parselmouth doesn’t make me evil?” 

“No, Mr. Potter. In fact,” Snape said, giving him a small smirk, “I would say it makes you quite a remarkable young man.” 

Harry smiled widely.

Harry sat up in bed, pain shooting through his skull and his vision swimming. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, and even a little sick. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, hoping the pressure would push the pain away.

What in the hell kind of dream was that? It definitely wasn’t a normal dream, but it wasn’t a Voldemort dream either since his scar wasn’t hurting.

“Harry?” he heard Ron say, sounding concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s just a headache,” Harry said. “No, not Voldemort,” he added quickly.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ron asked.

“No, thanks. I think it’s starting to go away,” Harry said and he was being honest. The pain had seemed to lessen and was feeling more mild as time passed.

He pulled his hands from his eyes and put his glasses on. He looked at Ron who still appeared concerned.

“I’m okay,” he said. “It’s pretty much gone now.”

Ron nodded slowly, obviously not completely convinced. “Do you know what caused it?”

“Not completely. It may have been this dream I had, but I don’t know.”

“Dream?” Ron repeated with a frown.

Harry nodded. “If that’s what it was, I’m not really sure. It was weird and different from any dream I’ve had before.”

“What did you dream?” Ron asked.

“It was second year. I was hiding in the Potions classroom after the Dueling Club thing. Snape was there and we were talking. We…we were…pleasant, like we liked each other, and he…helped me,” Harry said and looked at Ron. Both of them had eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Ron, I think it was…a memory, but I don’t remember anything like that ever happening. It couldn’t have. Snape and I have always hated each other.”

Ron frowned, clearly thinking. “Let’s tell Hermione. Maybe she’ll have an idea.”

Harry nodded and quickly got ready for the day. They were fairly quiet as they headed down to the Great Hall, both thinking about Harry’s dream.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts when Colin Creevey almost crashed into him. The younger Gryffindor had his head bowed and was rubbing his temples. He dropped his hands and looked up at the near collision.

“Oh, sorry, Harry,” Colin said. “Need to watch where I’m going. I’ve just got this killer headache.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the younger boy’s comment. Before he could ask, Colin was darting around him.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” he said. “See you later.”

Harry watched him go, spotting a hand rub a temple again. It had to be a coincidence. People got headaches all the time. It didn’t mean anything.

“Harry, look.”

Harry turned to Ron who was staring at the wall. He stepped down and gazed at the wall, shocked. The entire area of paintings, about fifteen of them, was still. Not a single painting was moving like they should be. He moved back so he could see more of the wall only to see something even more shocking.

"Ron," he said and pointed to a painting high up on the wall.

“It’s…it’s empty,” Ron said in disbelief.

Whatever the painting was supposed to be, it wasn’t there anymore. It was a black canvas in a frame.

“That’s impossible,” Ron whispered.

Harry looked around and spotted other students that were also stopped and pointing at paintings. He was able to see several still pictures and a few more that were blank. Confusion and panic filled everyone’s faces.

“Come on,” Harry said quietly, tugging on Ron’s arm. They resumed walking and joined Hermione once in the Great Hall.

“Good morning,” Hermione said, her tone pleasant but her expression grave.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

Hermione glanced around as though to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. She leaned in close to Ron and Harry. “I may have an explanation for what you’ve been seeing and your headaches.”

Harry’s eyes widened and his heart began to beat faster.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, but it’s still strange and very concerning,” Hermione rambled.

“Hermione, just tell us,” Ron said.

“First, I have to tell you something,” Hermione said, her eyes dropping to the table as Harry and Ron looked at her curiously. “I’ve been experiencing the same thing as you, Harry. I’ve been seeing things, too, and getting headaches with them.”

They both gaped at her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ron asked.

She looked at them with teary eyes. “It only just started, but I thought I was crazy. Seeing things no one else can is not a good thing.”

Harry nodded slightly, understanding completely. “What did you find?” he asked, trying to distract her from her distress.

“Right,” she said, sniffing and swiping away the one tear that had escaped. “I don’t know how it could have happened, but the only explanation I could find is a Memory Charm.”

“Like what happened to Lockhart?” Ron said.

Hermione nodded. “There are different types of Memory Charms. The one Lockhart used was a Memory Erasure Charm. The one that explains our experiences is a Hidden Memory Charm,” she explained. “It’s used to help deal with trauma typically and is meant to be temporary. Because it hasn’t been removed, it’s wearing away.”

“But I’ve been seeing things from years ago,” Harry said. “Can it last that long?”

Hermione shrugged. “There are holes in the theory. It typically can’t last years, headaches aren’t commonly associated with it, and I can’t explain how or who would have cast it on us. It’s the closest thing I could find though.”

Harry sighed. They had an explanation, but it didn’t fully explain. Plus, there was Colin and everything else happening in the castle.

There was something else, something they were missing.

The room was quiet except for scratching quills and rustling paper. Sixth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were sat in Transfiguration class, each working on their newly assigned Human Transfiguration project. They had each been given an object or species that a witch or wizard could transform into. They had to research everything about how to make such a transformation successful while also exploring potential complications.

Harry was in the middle of jotting down notes from the text on the general concept of Human Transfiguration when a low groan made him look around.

“Mr. Stobey, is there a problem?” McGonagall said, staring at the black-haired boy sternly over her glasses.

“No, I’m sorry, Professor,” Stobey said and Harry frowned at the boy massaging his forehead. “It’s just a headache.”

“Perhaps a visit to the infirmary?”

Stobey shook his head. “No, I’m alright, Professor.”

McGonagall hummed and returned to her work. Harry also turned back to his notes, but he couldn’t help glancing at Stobey again. His eyebrows crinkled in concern as he saw Stobey had dropped his head into his hands, pressing on his eyes. The boy blew out a shaky breath before pushing himself to his feet.

“Professor, I think I…I think…”

“What, Mr. Stobey?”

Harry frowned at how much Stobey appeared to be swaying. He saw McGonagall’s raised eyebrow morph into an expression of worry.

“Mr. Stobey?” she said, slowly getting to her feet.

“I—” Stobey was cut off by his own cry of pain where he slapped his hands to his eyes only to collapse to the floor in an unconscious heap. Students gasped and cried out in shock, and McGonagall hurried to Stobey. She did some quick observations and waved her wand before conjuring a floating stretcher and placing Stobey on it.

“Class is dismissed,” she said and rushed from the room without even making sure everyone was leaving.

Harry watched her disappear and then turned to Ron and Hermione. If he hoped they would have an explanation, he was proven wrong by the fear filling their faces.

“Professor, does anyone know what’s wrong with Robert Stobey?” Harry asked Dumbledore. It had been a few days since Ravenclaw’s Robert Stobey collapsed in the middle of Transfiguration. He hadn’t been to class or meals, but none of the professors had said anything about him.

“It is still unclear,” Dumbledore said shortly. “I can say no more on the matter.”

Harry nodded, but was unsatisfied. There was something in him saying Dumbledore knew more than he was letting on, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Besides, Dumbledore always knew more than he seemed to…always had secrets.

“Come, let us get started,” Dumbledore said, pouring the evening’s memory into the Pensieve.

Harry moved to the Pensieve and instantly entered the memory. He landed inside a familiar broken down shack: the Gaunt house. His attention was pulled to the door as it opened. A young man, pale with dark hair and eyes, dressed smartly in a black suit and robes, stepped into the tiny home. Harry recognized the man immediately: Voldemort when he was still Tom Riddle. It was the Voldemort he encountered through the diary and in the Chamber of Secrets.

Voldemort swept over to the lump of a man that was sunken in a moth-eaten armchair. The man’s hair was long and stringy, covering his sunken, white, face with its overgrown beard. A bottle of some dark alcohol hung from his fingers, half empty. The man looked up as Voldemort came to stand in front of him. His face twisted in a sneer and, with a speed Harry’s hadn’t anticipated, lunged at Voldemort.

‘Enough,’ Voldemort said, Harry realizing almost instantly that it was Parseltongue.

The man stopped in his tracks, though the glare on his face never dropped.

‘I am looking for Marvolo Gaunt,’ Voldemort hissed.

‘Dead,’ the man said also in Parseltongue and Harry realized this was likely Morfin Gaunt, Voldemort’s uncle that had cursed Tom Riddle Sr. years earlier. ‘You look like him.’

‘Like who?’

‘The filthy Muggle boy my whore sister ran off with,’ Morfin spat.

Harry saw a flash in Voldemort’s eyes, but that was his only reaction to the comment. Remembering the Muggle boy from Bob Ogden’s memory, Harry had to agree with Morfin. Voldemort was the spitting image of his father.

‘What happened to them?” Voldemort asked.

‘Merope got herself knocked up with his filthy spawn, but he didn’t much care for that since he came back here years ago, all alone,’ Morfin explained. ‘Obviously he left the dumb bitch. Serves her right, dirtying herself with the likes of him, sullying our pure family line.’

Harry saw Voldemort’s eyes flicker to a ring on Morfin’s hand. He recognized it as the ring Marvolo had shoved in Ogden’s face.

‘And your sister?’ Voldemort pushed.

‘She came back, too, a bit after the Muggle did,’ Morfin said. ‘Robbed us, she did. Took the locket as though she were still worthy of the Slytherin blood. Nothing but a Muggle whore. Never seen her since.’

‘So, she and her child were abandoned? By the Muggle father?’ Voldemort confirmed.

‘Sure was,’ Morfin said. ‘Like I said, well deserved.’

Voldemort’s face turned angry and he started towards Morfin. However, the scene went black and Harry was back in Dumbledore’s office before they could see what happened. Harry looked at the headmaster questioningly.

“That was all Morfin could remember of his visit with his nephew,” Dumbledore said as they took their seats. “By the time he awoke, Voldemort was gone and so was the ring he wore.”

“Voldemort stole it?”

Dumbledore nodded. “There was another incident. In the village, Little Hangleton, Tom Riddle Sr. and his parents were found dead, murdered in an unexplainable way.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “He killed them?”

“Yes, though that is not what the Ministry believed,” Dumbledore said, threading his fingers together on his desk. “The Ministry theorized the culprit to be a known Muggle-hater that had had conflict with this particular Muggle in the past.”

Harry sighed. “Morfin.”

Dumbledore nodded again. “It appears Voldemort was prepared for this line of investigation for, when the Ministry went to question Morfin, he immediately admitted to the murders, providing all the details needed. They examined his wand and the Killing Curse was the last spell cast. Naturally, he was sent to Azkaban and that is where he died.”

Harry shook his head, feeling some sympathy for Morfin. He clearly hadn’t been a good person, but he also didn’t deserve to die in Azkaban for something he didn’t do.

“Why did Voldemort take the ring?” Harry asked.

“Voldemort was obsessed with his heritage by this point. While he looked down on the Gaunts, they were still of ‘pure blood’ and were his link to Salazar Slytherin,” Dumbledore said. “The ring was representative of that for him.”

“Do you know what happened to it?” Harry asked.

The headmaster gazed at him for a moment before opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out the ring from the memories. Harry’s eyes opened in surprise, reaching out to grab the ring and examining it closer. He wasn’t sure he believed Voldemort would want something for sentimental reasons considering how much he clearly despised all sides of his family, but there didn’t seem to be anything particularly special about the ring. He returned the ring to the desk.

“So, by sixteen, he was a murderer?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “He also had a group of fellow students willing to do whatever he asked, no matter how harmful. The precursor to the group you know as Death Eaters.”

Harry let out a breath, astounded that all of it with Voldemort had started when Voldemort was so young.

“I think that is enough for tonight,” Dumbledore said, placing the ring back in the drawer.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said and headed to the door. With his hand on the handle, his mind travelled back to Robert Stobey and the still paintings. Surely the teachers had noticed the paintings and the cracks in the stone as well. “Sir?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Have you noticed the paintings? The ones that’ve stopped moving and there’s a few empty ones?” Harry said. “Do you know what’s causing it?”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Yes, I’ve noticed. It is nothing to worry about. It is simply a matter of strengthening the magic that sustains the school. An easy fix, but time consuming.”

“Sure,” Harry said, frowning slightly at the strange pit he felt in his stomach. The headmaster seemed perfectly comforting and optimistic, but, meeting the blue eyes, he couldn’t help but see something hidden behind the genial sparkle. What it was, though, he had no idea.

“Off you go, my boy.”

“Right. G’night, Professor.”

Harry and Ron looked up from their books in slight surprise when Hermione suddenly slipped into the other chair at their table in the common room. They thought she had been in the library. She also appeared alarmed.

“Have you heard?” Hermione whispered, leaning forward slightly across the table. Both Harry and Ron copied her, shaking their heads in denial of having heard anything worth whispering about. “Zacharias Smith and Colin Creevey are in the Hospital Wing. They’re both in comas, and so is Robert Stobey.”

Harry frowned. “Is that a common thing in the wizarding world?”

“Not really,” Ron said, his eyebrows furrowed in his own confusion. “There’s something about the way our magic works inside our bodies that helps prevent comas except in extreme cases.”

“Any idea what happened?” Harry asked Hermione who shook her head.

“Not really. I think they collapsed like Robert. I only know because I overheard some Hufflepuffs in the library.”

Harry looked at Ron. “What can cause comas?”

“There’s really only two ways that I know of,” Ron said. “The first is from Memory Charms, either when too many are used on one person or when they’re used wrong. A Memory Charm can break the mind rather than erase it. When that happens, a person’s magic tries to fix it, but causes a coma because the magic creates a sort of barrier to prevent further damage while simultaneously locking the mind to prevent the charm from progressing further. The coma is the magic’s form of protection.”

“So, like what Lockhart did to himself and what you thought may have been done to us,” Harry said, pointing at Hermione. Ron nodded. “What’s the other way?”

“Mind Magic,” Ron said. “If it’s failing, a person can fall into a coma for essentially the same reason. Their magic is trying to fix and protect the mind.”

“What’s the difference between Memory Charms and Mind Magic?” Harry asked, thinking they sounded like they would do the same thing.

“Well, Memory Charms effect just the memory. Mostly they’re used to erase memories, like Lockhart, though there are some that hide memories, like Hermione told us. What memories or how much memory is erased depends on power and intent,” Ron explained. “Mind Magic, though, effects more than just memory. Mind Magic can completely change reality or perception, and even emotions. Mind Magic can even be used to control someone if the caster is strong enough. Thoughts, memories, and emotions can be essentially implanted into a person using Mind Magic. It’s heavy magic, powerful and dangerous. People have tried for decades to get it and Memory Charms put on restricted lists or even named Unforgiveables.”

“So, what?” Harry said with a frown, trying to understand what could have happened to the afflicted students. “They were all hit with bad Memory Charms or were under Mind Magic that failed?”

Both Ron and Hermione just shrugged, clueless. Harry’s frown deepened. He thought about everything he had been noticing that year and furrowed his eyebrows as some connections were made to what Ron had told them.

“Have you noticed all the weirdness this year?” Harry asked and they both looked at him questioningly. “The fighting, the anger. Doesn’t it seem more…intense this year?”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Ron said, obviously thinking about their Quidditch practices and their match against Slytherin.

“Yes, but surely it’s just because of You-Know-Who’s return,” Hermione said.

“Maybe that’s exactly what it is. Maybe he’s found a way to do something to the school,” Harry said and he looked at Ron. “How would we know if we were under Mind Magic?”

“We wouldn’t, not unless it started failing or we found a way to break it over ourselves,” Ron said.

“Maybe that’s what’s happening,” Harry said. “Maybe he used Mind Magic on the school to make everyone fight so we couldn’t work together against him, but now it’s failing because he’s not strong enough. Plus, it’s got to take a lot of power to try and mess with Dumbledore like that.”

“Maybe, but what about the things we’ve been seeing,” Hermione asked, referring to their strange memory-like visions.

“That could be him, too, maybe trying to give us fake memories to throw us off,” Harry said, but he wasn’t confident in the idea. For one thing, why would Voldemort try to mess with Hermione’s memories and not just Harry’s? And, for another, why would Voldemort want Harry to think Snape cared about him?

Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak as the door was opened, revealing Snape who was in the process of tying a robe closed over his pajamas. The man stared down at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 

“Potter, what have I told you about wandering the castle at night?” Snape said, crossing his arms. 

“Technically, I didn’t wander. I came straight here,” Harry said cheekily and Snape gave him a pointed look. “Fine, not to, but you also said I could come here whenever I needed.” 

“I didn’t mean in the middle of the night.” 

“But that’s when I’m more likely to need it.” 

“Potter, it is dangerous.” 

“Then wouldn’t it be best if I were here so you can protect me from Black?” Harry gave a small grin. 

Snape sighed in exasperation as he stepped aside. Harry hurried into the room, instantly sitting on the sofa. He watched Snape sit in an armchair before waving his wand and summoning a tea tray. 

“Tea?” 

“Always,” Harry said and took a cup. 

Snape pushed a small tin to him. “Your mint.” 

“You know me so well.” 

“Not wholly by choice,” Snape said, leaning back in his chair with his own tea. 

Harry wasn’t fazed by the comment, curling up and sipping his tea with a satisfied sigh. 

“So, what has caused you to grace my rooms with your presence at two a.m.?” Snape asked casually and no hint of anger or annoyance. 

“I had a nightmare,” Harry said. “I tried to get back to sleep, but I just couldn’t.” 

“What was it about?” 

“Mm, a mix of things,” Harry said, holding his cup in his hands, letting it warm him up. “Seemed to touch on everything.” 

“I see.” 

“I just…I didn’t really want to be alone,” Harry said, staring into his tea. 

“Understandable,” Snape said. “Never concern yourself with that. You are not alone.” 

As Harry looked up at Snape with a small smile, the scene faded away and a woman walked towards him from nowhere. It was the same woman he had seen in dreams before. Everything about her was the same, including the fact that she didn’t speak. She just stood with a sad smile and a feeling of familiarity emanating from her. Before he knew it, she had faded away once again.

Harry sat up, his head aching and his mind utterly confused. He needed to tell Ron and Hermione about the woman now that he was actually remembering her, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. This was the second dream involving Snape and he was left with emotions he never would have attributed to the man. He bit his lip, contemplating if he should do what he had considered doing for the last several days. It had been more than a couple weeks since Snape found out about the Dursleys. Nothing had been said between them about it in their interactions since then. However, something very small had changed. He didn’t feel an encompassing rage towards the man and Snape seemed to be a fraction more pleasant in class. It was also the fact that the vague feelings from visions and dreams had remained behind.

Quickly making up his mind, he dug out his invisibility cloak, threw it on, and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower. He ran down the stairs as quick, but also as quiet as possible. He wasn’t sure how he knew where to go once in the dungeons, but he did and was soon outside a dark-coloured door with snakes carved into it.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and pulled off the cloak. He forced himself not to move when the door was flung open and he was greeted by an enraged Snape.

“Potter!” Snape spat. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, sir,” Harry said.

Snape sneered. “Just like your father, Potter, think—”

“I know, I know,” Harry interrupted. “I’m an arrogant brat that thinks I can go gallivanting around the school doing whatever I want. I get it, but I still need to talk to you.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he had ever received such a deep glare from Snape before, but he stood his ground and held eye contact. There was a sort of sizzle in his head and, by the minute twitch in Snape’s eye, he felt it too.

“Sir, please,” Harry said. “You said you could help me. I need your help now.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what it is you are thinking, Potter.”

“Neither do I, quite frankly, but I’m here and you haven’t cursed me yet,” Harry said with a shrug.

Snape stared at him for a long while before eventually stepping aside and letting Harry into his rooms. Inside, Harry was overcome by a feeling of familiarity and comfort. He had been here before. Why didn’t he remember? He turned to Snape who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The man looked irritated, understandable since it was three in the morning, but he didn’t look angry as Harry would have expected.

“Well?” Snape said impatiently.

Harry hesitated for a minute. Why was he there? “You’ve noticed everything going on, right? The fighting, the paintings, now the comas? None of the professors are saying anything but you must have noticed, especially you. You notice everything.”

Snape just continued to stare at him, his eyebrow raised higher.

Harry huffed slightly. “Look, I’ve been seeing things, feeling things, and now I’m having dreams. They keep involving you, things that seem like memories but I don’t remember ever happening, things that seem impossible for us.”

Snape’s eyebrow dropped, joining the other in a light frown, but he still didn’t respond.

“We have a theory,” Harry said.

“’We’?” Snape repeated.

“Me, Ron, and Hermione,” Harry said. “We think the school has been under Mind Magic. We need a way to prove it, find who cast it, and break it. We need a way to break its hold on us so we can see everything and everyone clearly, without the magic.”

“Potter, messing with and breaking Mind Magic is extremely dangerous, far beyond the skill of sixth years,” Snape said with a touch of derision.

“I know,” Harry said. “That’s why I came to you.”

Snape stared at him, clearly taken aback but not showing it.

“Don’t you want to know why the castle is falling apart?” Harry said. “Or how we can even be having this conversation?”

Snape didn’t respond.

“Or why you didn’t hurt me when I broke half the storeroom. We know you’ve had no qualms about it before, considering last year,” Harry continued. “Or why you offered to help me and why it felt like this was not the first time you had learned about the Dursleys and my back.”

Snape still didn’t speak, but his expression had changed to one of intense contemplation.

“Something is wrong and I know you’ve seen and felt it, too,” Harry said. “No one else is going to help us. I’m asking you to be the one that will.”

“I…will consider it,” Snape said, seemingly uncomfortable. “It is time for you to go.”

Harry sighed, feeling slightly disappointed. He didn’t know what he had expected, but this clearly wasn’t it.

“Leave now, Potter, and do not let me catch you out of bed after curfew again,” Snape said, some of his normal anger making a return.

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be roughly pushed out of the room, the door slamming behind him. He sighed again, put on his cloak, and returned to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry glanced at Malfoy out the corner of his eye as the blonde joined him in the library aisle. He felt a pulse of irritation at being near the Slytherin, but he ignored it and resumed his search. He had finally told Ron and Hermione that he had seen and remembered the woman from his dreams. Hermione had instantly dragged them to the library to see if they could find who she was in a book.

They hadn’t had any luck yet and he had been sent to find another book from Hermione’s list. He could feel the tension in the aisle between him and Malfoy, and he shifted uncomfortably. He had gotten closer to Malfoy as he examined the shelves, but lit up slightly when he spotted the book he needed. He reached out for the book only to have Malfoy reach for the same one, causing them to bump each other. They recoiled as though burned and turned to glower at each other.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Malfoy snapped.

“Getting a book obviously,” Harry said angrily.

Malfoy sneered. “Finally grew a brain cell to use on a book, did you?”

Harry’s glare deepened.

Malfoy smirked at Harry’s silence, accepting victory as he pulled the book down.

“If you’re looking for Nicholas Flamel, you’ll find him in here,” a young Malfoy said, pulling down a book and handing it to a young Harry. “But it’s simple. He’s the most famous alchemist of all time. Why are you looking for him?”

“We need to know about the philosopher’s stone,” Harry said.

“Why?” 

“Because it’s here in the school and Voldemort’s after it.”

Harry blinked as the vision dissipated and managed to see Malfoy do the same thing. His brain jumped to a realization.

“It’s happening to you too,” Harry said.

“What the hell are you talking about, idiot?” Malfoy snapped.

“You’ve been seeing things, haven’t you?” Harry said.

It took a second for Malfoy to respond. “So, you really are crazy. And Dumbledore thinks you’re going to save us all?” He scoffed.

Harry shot him a glare again, feeling his hatred try to rise to the surface and take over. He shook his head and was going to walk away when he realized something else, glancing at the book they had both wanted.

“Have you seen her too?”

Malfoy’s eyebrows came together.

“Do you know who she is?”

Malfoy twisted his face back into one of rage and hatred. “Get lost, Potter, you don’t know anything.”

Harry sighed as Malfoy stalked off, dropping the book on the floor with a heavy thud. He picked up the book and returned to his friends. Maybe he was a little crazy, assuming everyone was experiencing the same things he was. Even if they were all under Mind Magic, it didn’t mean they were all breaking through it. Ron hadn’t had any visions or bursts of random emotions. Additionally, Malfoy going for that particular book didn’t mean anything. It could’ve been for an assignment.

He pushed it all to the back of his mind and opened the book, beginning to slowly flip through the most famous witches and wizards in history.

When Seamus Finnigan’s potion exploded, hardly anyone even batted an eye except Slughorn. All the students had become accustomed to explosions when in a classroom with Seamus, so this time was nothing new. Harry and Ron chuckled while Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Harry turned his attention back to chopping his valerian root. His technique was still pretty rough, but he was far better at brewing under Slughorn than Snape. He chose to ignore the visions he’d had that showed Snape being a decent teacher and him being decent at brewing long before that year.

It had been over a week since he’d had a vision or dream. No strange feelings around anyone. It was like none of it had ever happened and the break had actually allowed everything to feel normal again. Everyone was still angry, but he had chosen, at least for the week, to believe that was because of Voldemort’s growing presence in the world. It was easier to believe that rather than pursue the idea that they were all being mind-controlled.

“Very good, Harry,” Slughorn praised as he examined Harry’s completed potion. “You’ve got some of your mother’s skill, that’s for sure.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up to the man. Slughorn knew his mother? In an instant, he was desperate for more, just like learning about Voldemort from Dumbledore. Just as he was about to say something else, Slughorn ended the class.

“That’s all for today, everyone,” Slughorn said. “Harry, might you stay for a moment?”

Harry looked at the man in surprise. Ron and Hermione gave him questioning glances and he shrugged, having no idea what Slughorn wanted. With a look, Ron and Hermione left the room, but he knew they were waiting just outside. He turned back to the professor.

“Have I done something, sir?” Harry asked.

“Oh, no, my boy, nothing like that,” Slughorn said with a laugh. “You are a special young man, Harry. You remind me a lot of dear Lily.”

Harry perked up again at the second mention of his mother.

“I like to get to know my students with amazing stories, and you certainly have an amazing story,” Slughorn said and Harry shifted, slightly uncomfortable with the allusion to his tragic past. He blinked when the professor was suddenly handing him a card of some kind. “I would like to invite you to my Christmas party. I used to hold one every year and I would invite all my remarkable students.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir,” Harry said, taken aback.

“Feel free to bring a special friend. We’ll have a nice dinner, get to know each other’s stories, and then some dancing and mingling,” Slughorn said, grinning. He was obviously thrilled to get Harry Potter at his party.

Normally, Harry would be embarrassed and annoyed about being included in something purely because of being the Boy Who Lived, but he was recognizing the opportunity being provided. Slughorn knew his mother and this party could allow him to talk more to the man.

“Thank you for the invitation, Professor,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Slughorn said excitedly, clapping his hands together. “On your way now, my boy.”

Harry nodded and left the room, rejoining Ron and Hermione who were waiting as expected. He showed and explained the professor’s party invitation as they headed up to the Great Hall for dinner. Ron was slightly disgusted about the concept of the party, but Hermione was intrigued about the people Harry could meet.

They were about to enter the Great Hall when Harry noticed a familiar figure staring at a painting that was no longer moving. He realized he hadn’t spoken to Luna at all that year, and instantly felt bad. She had been there for him last year despite not knowing him and even followed him to the Ministry on blind faith. She had become a good friend and he knew she didn’t have many of those.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Harry told Ron and Hermione. They nodded and entered the Hall without him as he turned to walk towards Luna.

Her hair hung in messy waves down her back, pinned back with a radish clip to match her radish earrings. She wore a slightly garish yellow knit sweater with a pink checkered skirt and her school-issued black shoes. She had her usual serene expression, but he thought he could see a tightness as well in her eyes. She turned to him with a gentle smile.

“Hello, Harry.”

He smiled back. “Hi, Luna. How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t really talked to you this year.”

“It’s alright. It’s been a difficult year. There’s a shadow over the school,” Luna said and Harry noticed her face become slightly sad. So, she had felt it too.

“Yeah, Voldemort’s made things hard,” Harry agreed.

“I don’t think it’s him,” Luna said and Harry looked at her curiously. “It’s a different darkness.”

Harry couldn’t help but agree. He had been around Voldemort several times and, while some things felt similar, it was a different experience. It was one of the many things that poked holes in the theory that it was Voldemort that had cast the possible Mind Magic. It wasn’t his style.

“There’s something wrong with Hogwarts,” Luna said, looking back at the frozen picture. “She’s in pain. All of us are.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“Something is breaking and it’s hurting us all, even her.” Luna put her palm on the wall just under the painting.

Harry was about to ask her to expand, but they were interrupted by a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors approaching them.

“Fraternizing with another house, Potter? And the resident lunatic of all people?” a Gryffindor he only knew slightly sneered at him.

“Watch it, jerk,” one of the Ravenclaws snapped. “You don’t get to talk about anyone from our house like that.”

The Gryffindor stepped up to the Ravenclaw, leaving them chest to chest. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Hey, enough,” Harry said, putting a hand on the Gryffindor’s arm only to be slapped away with a glare.

“Don’t think you get a say, traitor.”

Harry frowned at the insult and malice. There was the amplified anger effecting everyone that year.

“We’re just talking,” Harry said. “We’re friends.”

“No, she’s an enemy,” the Gryffindor growled. “Maybe we need to remind you where your loyalties should be.”

Harry glared, taking a step back and feeling his own anger quickly build up.

“Return to your crazy magazine, Loony,” a Ravenclaw sneered at Luna.

“Leave her alone,” Harry snapped, gaining hateful looks from the Ravenclaws.

“Or what?” the Ravenclaw taunted.

Harry pulled his wand, hoping it would be enough of a threat. Sadly, it didn’t faze the other students as they chuckled, but without humour.

“What’s wrong, Potter? Afraid to get your hands dirty?” the Gryffindor said. “Didn’t seem that way during Quidditch.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Think we’re not worthy opponents?” the Ravenclaw said.

The Gryffindor scoffed. “What’re you going to do? Recite facts at us?”

The Gryffindors laughed and Harry was shocked when the Ravenclaw swung, his fist catching the Gryffindor in the cheek. After that, it was as though a whistle had been blown, marking the start to their fight. Harry ducked as another Ravenclaw threw a punch at him. His anger boiled up and he threw himself into the fight, doing what damage he could to a Ravenclaw.

“What are you doing?”

Harry stopped immediately, recognizing the voice. He closed his eyes in regret of being caught by Snape only to cry out and stumble at the hard punch landing on his mouth, splitting his lip.

“Jones, Carring, Dina! To Professor Flitwick immediately,” Snape demanded. “Plaisey, Matthews, Avony. To Professor McGonagall.”

“But, sir, what about P—”

“Now, Matthews!” Snape shouted.

Having finally cleared the spots from his vision, Harry watched the others stomp past him, casting glares at him and Luna.

“To dinner, Miss Lovegood, if you are unharmed,” Snape said, his tone calming.

“Yes, sir,” Luna said. “Thank you, Harry.” She touched his arm lightly before hurrying into the Great Hall.

Harry nodded at her with a small smile, wincing at the pain it caused in his lip. He touched it with a couple fingertips, wincing again at the blood on them. He looked at Snape with a sigh, knowing full well why he hadn’t been sent to McGonagall with the others. Snape had to take pleasure in tormenting him when he could.

Any remotely positive feelings he’d had towards the man had disappeared in the nearly two weeks that had passed since he went to Snape for help, replaced by his age-old hatred.

“Potter, did you learn nothing from your previous involvement in a fight?” Snape snapped.

“Guess not,” Harry snapped back. He was distracted by the image suddenly before him.

Snape stared down at a twelve-year-old Harry, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“I couldn’t do nothing, Professor,” Harry argued. “He called Hermione a Mudblood.”

Snape sighed. “I commend your loyalty to your friend and your willingness to defend her. However, physically assaulting Mr. Malfoy is not the way.”

Harry dropped his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Gonna be hard, though, his face is just so punchable.”

“Potter,” Snape admonished.

“Sorry,” Harry said.

Snape rolled his eyes before gently grasping Harry’s chin and raising his head, healing the cut over Harry’s eyes.

“Pay attention, Potter!”

Harry jumped and shook himself, looking back at the real professor in front of him. “Sorry, sir.”

“Detention with me, tomorrow night.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, sir.”

He was severely startled when Snape suddenly reached out and gently grasped his chin, just like in the vision. Confused and overcome by strange emotions, he just watched as Snape raised his wand and healed his split lip. He expected the man to release him the second his lip was healed, but the gentle hold lasted a second longer than was needed as their eyes remained connected. Then, the strange moment was broken as Snape let go and pulled up his cold expression.

“Get to dinner, Potter.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, still in disbelief at what had just happened as he watched Snape sweep away, presumably to use the staff entrance to the Hall. Harry blinked as though in a daze before making himself move and enter the Great Hall himself as instructed. He sat with Ron and Hermione, still staring ahead blankly as he replayed the moment again and again in his mind.

“Harry?”

He was pulled from his disbelief and his gaze moved to Hermione. She was looking at him curiously.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, piling some food onto his plate. She just stared at him, obviously not fully believing him. “Promise, I’m fine. Just dumb fighting with some Ravenclaws and Gryffindors because I was talking to Luna.”

She shook her head and returned to her dinner. Harry ignored his annoyance at her obvious disapproval and dug into his duck breast, for once savouring the relative silence of the Hall, no matter how tense. He couldn’t stop thinking about Snape and the moment between them. He couldn’t believe Snape had willingly touched him and done so with such kindness, and he had even more disbelief in himself for allowing and accepting it. There was something there, something between them that they didn’t remember.

He was pulled, once again, from his thoughts along with everyone else as a low, loud moan echoed through the Hall. Several students looked up from their food and around, trying to find the source of the sound. Harry felt a pulse in the air, but, when nothing else happened, the curious people brushed it off and continued eating. Only a second later, the moan echoed again, louder this time, and accompanied by a rumble that rattled the plates and goblets on the tables. Gasps were heard throughout the Hall at the shaking of the castle.

Harry looked up to the ceiling just in time to see a few floating candles lose their flame and drop, landing on the tables, including one directly beside his plate. Startled cries rang out as about a dozen candles fell. Harry stared at the candle in front of him in his own shock before looking up at the head table. All of the professors seemed just as surprised and startled as the students, all except one. Dumbledore had a different expression, one resembling angry shock, and Harry frowned as the headmaster pushed away from the table roughly and swept from the Hall.

All kinds of ideas and realizations rushed into his mind and he turned back to his friends.

“There’s something we haven’t considered,” Harry said, gaining puzzled looks from Ron and Hermione. “Say our theory is right and the school has Mind Magic over it. That explains the weirdness with the students, the visions, the fighting, all of that, but it doesn’t explain this.” He picked up the fallen candle.

Ron and Hermione gazed at him, not speaking but clearly thinking.

“Mind Magic wouldn’t be causing the castle to fall apart,” Harry said. “I asked Dumbledore about it a little bit ago. He said it was just the source of Hogwarts’ magic needing a touch-up, but what if the two things are connected?”

“What do you mean?" Ron asked.

“What if Voldemort was and still is using Hogwarts’ magic to sustain the Mind Magic? But, obviously, there is a limit to Hogwarts’ magic. So, the more Voldemort uses, the more it drains, causing the castle to break down, and, because he doesn’t have enough magic anymore, the Mind Magic is also failing.”

“It does make a lot of sense and explains pretty much everything,” Hermione said.

“Okay, so, let’s say that’s what’s going on,” Ron said. “What do we do about it?”

“We need to break Voldemort’s hold on the school,” Harry said. “I think we need to find the source of Hogwarts’ magic. I think, with that, we might be able to…untangle Voldemort’s magic from Hogwarts’.”

“How do we do…any of that?” Ron asked, skeptical.

Harry sighed. “That I’m not too sure about.”

“Research to start,” Hermione said and Ron groaned, making her roll her eyes and Harry chuckle.

“Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?” Snape said, looking up from his desk at the blonde student. He wasn’t quite in the mood to deal with the spoiled Malfoy offspring, not after the strange and, quite frankly, overwhelming evening.

“I need you to do your mind reading thing on me,” Malfoy said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I assume you mean Legilimency which you know full well is not ‘mind reading’.”

“Yeah, that,” Malfoy said, sounding desperate. “I need you to do it on me.”

“And why would I do that?” Snape said. “It is inappropriate and I am not permitted to do such a thing on a student.”

“I think I’ve been cursed,” Malfoy said. “That or I’m crazy.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed. “Malfoy, sit down and explain yourself.”

Malfoy sat in the chair in front of Snape’s desk, but he remained fidgety and wild-eyed. Snape stared at him, waiting.

“I’ve been…seeing things,” Malfoy admitted.

Snape’s stare sharpened. “What kinds of things?”

“Flashes, images of conversations and events and interactions that have never happened with people I have never associated with,” Malfoy said. “Also, a woman in strange dreams who never speaks.”

Snape leaned forward. “Tell me about one of these…visions.”

“After the Quidditch match, in the Hospital Wing. I touched Potter and I saw me and him in the infirmary together, talking and laughing, after the match in second year with the rogue bludger,” Malfoy described. “But, that didn’t happen! I’ve been cursed, must’ve been.”

“These visions, are they followed by headaches?”

Malfoy frowned. “Yes, how did you—”

“You are not alone in your experience, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said. “I take it you have also felt things when touching some individuals as well as fluctuating emotions towards individuals?”

Malfoy nodded, stunned. “What is it?”

“The reigning theory is Mind Magic, but, beyond that, I know nothing else.”

“Mind Magic?” Malfoy repeated. “So, what do we do?”

“That is something else I am uncertain of,” Snape said. “Mind Magic is extremely dangerous and this is powerful, given that it is effecting an entire school.”

“So, what? We just live like this, waiting to drop into comas like a few already have?”

“I must do some research,” Snape said. “You are not the only one experiencing these things, nor are you the only one that has come to me for help. All I can tell you is to be careful. Do not chase these visions. Putting pressure on the Mind Magic’s barrier is what can cause a coma.”

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy agreed. “Why would anyone use Mind Magic on everyone in Hogwarts?”

“I do not know.”

“So, my boy, are you excited?” Dumbledore said with a smile as he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on his abdomen.

“Sorry, sir?” Harry said, confused about what the man could be referring to. There wasn’t much to be excited about, not anymore.

“Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party. I heard you got an invitation,” Dumbledore said. “I am not surprised. He is drawn to special students, like yourself.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Harry said, still somewhat bitter about singled out as 'special' because of his past. “And, sure, it should be fun.”

“Yes, Horace has always thrown excellent parties,” Dumbledore said. “Have you found a friend to accompany you?”

“Uh, yeah, I asked Luna Lovegood.”

He had managed to talk to Luna again in the library away from prying eyes a few days after their incident outside the Great Hall. He was originally going to bring Hermione, but Slughorn ended up inviting her as well, likely for being dubbed the ‘brightest witch of her age’ despite being Muggleborn. She had invited Ron so he was included and Harry had quickly decided on Luna, who ended up being ecstatic at the invitation. Harry assumed it was because she was never invited anywhere or included in anything by her housemates or anyone else for that matter. No one seemed to appreciate the amazing friend they could have in Luna.

“A wonderful choice. A lovely young lady,” Dumbledore said. “It is actually very fortunate that you have caught Professor’s Slughorn’s attention for he is the subject of the memory you will see tonight. This memory is the reason I convinced Professor Slughorn to return to Hogwarts.”

Harry was curious how Slughorn could be connected to Voldemort. The man seemed as far from the Dark Arts as he possibly could be. He approached the Pensieve as Dumbledore did, watching the memory drip into the basin.

“Many years ago, Professor Slughorn was one of Tom’s professors here at Hogwarts. Like you, Professor Slughorn recognized Tom as a special student. The two appeared to become close until something happened between them, something that showed what Tom would become. There is something important about this memory, but I will explain after.”

Harry nodded and entered the memory, landing in what he recognized to be the Potions professor’s office. It looked nothing like it did when Snape occupied it. It had a warm atmosphere with books lining shelves and a fire roaring in the fireplace. A large round table was sat in the center of the office, occupied by several people, including a younger Slughorn and a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. Some of the other students at the table were chattering with each other quietly while Slughorn was in the process of opening a gift.

It was then Harry noticed that the memory seemed to have a haze over it, making everything just a touch dimmer and fuzzier. He wondered what it was as none of the other memories were like that. He assumed it was what Dumbledore would explain after, so he did his best to ignore it and watch the memory play out.

“Ah, how wonderful, my dear boy. Candied pineapple, my favourite,” Slughorn said happily, smiling widely. “Thank you, Tom, very much.”

Tom inclined his head with his own smile. “You’re very welcome, sir. A show of my appreciation for your kindness.”

“Such a dear boy you are,” Slughorn praised affectionately with a chuckle.

“So, is it true, sir?” Tom asked casually. “Is Professor Merrythought retiring?”

“Merlin’s beard, Tom, how do you do it? You seem to know everything, many things you ought not to know,” Slughorn said. He seemed surprised and slightly exasperated with Tom, but not angry.

“I’m curious and enjoy investigating things that pique my interest,” Tom said and Harry noticed a familiar glint in the dark eyes.

“You best be careful you don’t get yourself into trouble one day, Tom. Some things in this world are not meant to be known,” Slughorn said.

Tom opened his mouth to respond, but they never heard what he said. Harry was startled when a thick, grey fog blanketed the memory, nearly hiding it from view. He jumped slightly when Slughorn’s voice boomed from the fog.

“There’s something wrong in you, boy, and, one day, everyone will see it! Just you wait!”

Harry frowned at the tone and hateful words. They didn’t match Slughorn or the conversation. Sure, Slughorn had been giving Tom a warning, but it had still been a friendly warning. The fog disappeared and the scene had changed slightly. Only Slughorn and Tom remained at the table now.

“Quite the group of friends you’ve made, Tom,” Slughorn said as he popped a piece of candied pineapple in his mouth.

Tom shrugged. “Really just acquaintances,” he said dismissively. “Everyone needs followers, don’t you think so, Professor?”

Harry frowned again at Tom’s cockiness and that glint that flashed in his eye again. Slughorn appeared uncomfortable with Tom’s comment as he stuttered, trying to find something to say.

“Professor,” Tom said, saving Slughorn from the awkward moment. “I would wager you are one of the most knowledgeable wizards I know.”

Slughorn blushed and Harry was impressed at Tom’s ability to manipulate the man. He supposed manipulation was a skill Tom had to have in order to successfully create the Death Eaters.

“I’ve discovered an interesting area of magic and I hoped you could tell me more,” Tom said.

“Well, yes, if I can, of course,” Slughorn agreed.

“I stumbled upon it in the Restricted Section of the library,” Tom said and glanced at Slughorn with a half-smirk that made Harry tense. It reminded him a lot of the Voldemort he knew. “Horcruxes, I believe was the term.”

Slughorn blanched and went to respond, but then the fog from before returned. Once again, Slughorn’s voice boomed from the fog, even louder this time.

“How dare you ask me about such evil! Even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell you! Get out! Never ask me about that ever again! Out! OUT!”

Harry blinked as he suddenly found himself back in Dumbledore’s office. What had he just seen? It had been the strangest memory ever. He quickly sat, hoping it would encourage Dumbledore to explain faster as he stared expectantly at the man.

“I trust you noticed differences with this memory,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. “It was all hazy and then the weird fog.”

“Yes. I believe this to be a fake memory that has been tampered with.”

“That’s possible?”

“Indeed. I believe Professor Slughorn has hidden his true response to Tom’s inquiry, perhaps out of shame,” Dumbledore said seriously. “I believe the key to Voldemort becoming what he is today is hidden within Professor Slughorn’s true memory of this night.”

“You mean the horcruxes? Why, what is that?” Harry asked, having never heard of anything like it before.

“I will have to save that explanation for after we retrieve the real memory.”

Harry frowned, disappointed. It felt like something he should really know. “Okay, but how are we going to get the memory?”

“That is where you come in,” Dumbledore said. “Professor Slughorn has taken a liking to you and I believe you can convince him to give up the real memory.”

“Me? But, how am I supposed to do that?”

“However you decide,” Dumbledore said. “It will be difficult. He is quite a powerful Occlumens and I believe he has buried the memory deep inside his mind.”

Harry sat back, a little overwhelmed. How was he supposed to get Slughorn to spill his deepest, darkest secret? Slughorn liked him, sure, but he didn’t know the man that well.

“Can I put my faith in you to succeed?” Dumbledore said, gazing at Harry intently. “This could very well be the final piece of the puzzle needed to defeat Voldemort.”

Harry swallowed thickly at the pressure.

“You must not fail me, Harry.”

Harry’s stomach tightened. “Yes, sir. I promise I’ll get the memory no matter what.”

Dumbledore gave him a gentle smile, his eye sparkling. “That’s my boy. That is all for tonight. However, I ask you do not mention the horcruxes to your friends.”

Harry nodded in agreement though he couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Very good. Off you go now.”

“Yes, sir. Good night.”

Harry smiled as Luna danced in her odd way with Ron awkwardly shuffling with her. Ron obviously didn’t want to dance and still thought Luna to be strange, but his big-brother-to-a-little-sister identity was kicking in and he wanted her to have fun. He moved his gaze to Hermione who was sitting in a couple chairs off to the side, engaged in an intense conversation with one of the other invitees, a Hufflepuff boy. Harry honestly couldn’t remember who he was or what made him special to Slughorn.

Dinner had been Slughorn’s chance to ask questions and make his guests reveal their personal or familial accomplishments. Some students were more than happy to brag, but most were uncomfortable. Harry had been so relieved when dinner ended before Slughorn could get to him.

They had all moved to the next room with its wonderfully bright and sparkling decorations, floating silver candles above their heads. Other students had been employed for the evening as servers, walking around with trays of beverages and post-dinner appetizers to offer the guests.

As he looked around, he was honestly glad he had attended, and not just for the opportunity to speak with Slughorn. The party had not been as bad as he anticipated and had actually been fun. It had been a nice distraction and a nice thing to do with his friends rather than sitting around, pondering the death and destruction of Hogwarts and the wizarding world. It was refreshing to see his friends happy, at least for a night, for the first time in years.

“Harry, dear boy, I hope you are enjoying yourself,” Slughorn said as he came to stand with Harry, a drink in his hand.

“I am, sir, thank you for the invitation,” Harry said, smiling.

“Excellent, excellent,” Slughorn said. “I am sorry we did not get to you at dinner.”

“Not to worry, sir. Everyone already knows my story anyway.”

“Indeed they do,” Slughorn chuckled.

They were quiet for a time, watching the others chat, laugh, and dance. He could almost forget they were even in Hogwarts with the light atmosphere of the party, an emotion not felt all year. After some time, Harry decided to brooch the subject on his mind.

“Professor?” Harry said, regaining the man’s attention. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Of course, dear boy, anything.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but would I be correct in assuming you knew my mother, Lily?”

Slughorn’s expression softened, saddened, but his eyes glistened with memory and affection. “Yes, I knew her. Quite well, I might add. I was her Potions professor throughout her time at Hogwarts. An amazing witch she was. So bright and talented and kind. A beautiful heart in a beautiful young girl.”

Harry’s heart ached for the woman he never knew, but so many others did yet they never spoke of her. He heard about James often, but never Lily.

“Your Miss Granger is very much like Lily,” Slughorn added, making Harry smile at his friend. “Lily was particularly skilled at Charms, though she excelled in all her classes, including Potions. She was a member of the Slug Club because of her impressive skill. In my class, she was always competing for the top spot with her friend, Severus.”

Harry started for a moment at the mention of Snape. He and his mother had been friends? He remembered the memory he had seen last year and knew they had known each other, but Snape had been awful to her. How had they been friends?

“She gave me a gift once,” Slughorn said, clearly caught up in his memories. “A little fish in a fishbowl. I had that fish for many years, but, one day, it was just gone and a white lily was floating on top of the bowl instead. It was the day she died.”

Harry felt his eyes sting and watched Slughorn turn to him, tears in his own eyes.

“I regret that you did not get to know her,” Slughorn whispered, “but you have a lot of her in you. I can see it.”

Harry smiled, sadly this time, but also grateful at finally hearing he was like his mother. He only ever heard about having her eyes, but being like his father.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said quietly.

They fell quiet again, each remembering Lily Potter. Harry eventually turned his thoughts to Dumbledore and the memory from last night and Tom Riddle. Now was a perfect time to make his first attempt at retrieving Slughorn’s real memory.

“Professor, were you teaching here when Tom Riddle was a student?” Harry asked as casually as possible.

Slughorn visibly tensed. He was quiet, obviously deciding what he wanted to say. “Yes, I taught Tom.”

“Can you tell me about him, what he was like?” Harry asked.

Slughorn hesitated.

“I just want to know more about the man who killed my parents. Maybe find a reason why, why they had to die,” Harry said, almost pleading as some of the desperation he’d felt his whole life bled into his words.

Slughorn took a deep breath. Harry thought the man looked sad and he wondered why.

“Tom was…something else,” Slughorn began. “He was also incredibly bright and talented. Even so young, he had amazing power.”

“What was he…interested in?”

“If you’re asking if he was interested in the Dark Arts even as a child, the answer is yes,” Slughorn said. “He was a hurt child, troubled and traumatized. It helped him feel more in control to have knowledge of the Dark Arts. It was very much just a desire for knowledge, not practice, at least, not until…” he trailed off and Harry knew he had to be thinking of that night.

“Until he learned about horcruxes?” Harry prodded. “He changed, didn’t he? He wanted to control people, hurt them.”

Slughorn cast him a frown. “Where did you hear that?”

“I mean, it’s easy to figure out,” Harry said. “Dumbledore told me how angry Tom was, how badly he wanted to master the Dark Arts. He manipulated others into following and worshipping him even in school. They were the early Death Eaters.”

Slughorn’s frowned deepened. “Tom was angry and he did become too consumed with the Dark Arts, but I do not believe he wanted to hurt people. Well, except his family,” Slughorn said. “I am also unsure where you heard that nonsense about early Death Eaters. Tom did not treat anyone that way. He just wanted friends.”

“But, he did ask you about horcruxes?”

“He did,” Slughorn said.

“Why did he want to know about them?”

“Something happened to him when he opened that Chamber. That’s what pushed him into the Dark Arts. Something in that Chamber affected him, changed him.”

“Professor, I need the memory about Tom asking about horcruxes, the real one. Please, sir, Dumbledore—”

“I think that’s enough of that topic for now, Mr. Potter,” Slughorn said and Harry frowned. The clock suddenly began to dong loudly, making the both of them jump. “Oh, look at the time. I believe it is time to call it a night. Have a good Christmas, Mr. Potter.”

Slughorn hurried off to dismiss and say goodbye to his other guests before Harry could say anything else. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, utterly confused at what Slughorn had said about Tom. Was he still hiding the truth, still ashamed, and had convinced himself of his lie? He was honestly skeptical, but it was the only thing that made sense because the only other explanation would be that Dumbledore was the one that had lied which wasn’t possible. He would just have to keep trying and convince Slughorn to face the truth.

He ignored the pit that had formed in his stomach and the strange electric pulse he felt in the air around him.

Harry followed Ron and Hermione up the Grand Staircase after breakfast on autopilot, unable to stop thinking about his conversation with Slughorn the previous night. There was something very off about how Slughorn seemed to remember Tom Riddle and how Dumbledore did. There didn’t seem to be any reason Dumbledore would lie, so it had to be Slughorn. The professor had to be lying to hide whatever help he gave to Tom that allowed him to become Voldemort, something to do with horcruxes, whatever they were. As Dumbledore had requested, he hadn’t mentioned the horcrux term to Ron and Hermione, but he couldn’t help but want to. He had a strong feeling he needed to know what a horcrux was and he couldn’t understand why Dumbledore was keeping it from him.

He sighed and glanced down a corridor as they passed. He stopped abruptly, shocked at what he was seeing. Amongst the students racing around, a woman stood about halfway down the corridor in the middle of the hall. Everyone was oblivious to her presence, everyone except Harry. Why could only he see her?

As he stared, he realized, again with shock, that it was the woman from his dreams. She had a sad, withdrawn expression, but, as their eyes met, she began to smile.

He turned to Ron and Hermione to ask if they could see her, but found them looking at him with frowns. They clearly didn’t see her either.

“Is everything alright?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked back down the corridor to find the woman was gone. Had she actually been there?

“Harry?” Hermione said again, her voice worried.

“I…I thought I saw something,” Harry said, still staring intently down the hall in hopes the woman would reappear and prove he wasn’t insane.

“Another vision?” Hermione whispered as a student walked by.

Harry shook his head. “No, this was different than the visions. She was solid, like she was really there. The visions are almost foggy. Plus, no headache.”

“She?” Ron repeated.

“Yeah, I saw a woman,” Harry said. “It was the woman from my dreams.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked and Harry nodded. “Let’s go to the library instead. We haven’t found her yet. There’s still a chance she’s in there somewhere.”

“Sure, let’s go,” Harry said, casting another glance down the corridor before following his friends up the stairs to the next floor.

“She’s still never said anything?” Ron asked as they turned in direction of the library.

Harry shook his head. “She just stares. She usually looks sad even though she tries to smile.”

“We’ll keep looking until we find her,” Hermione said optimistically.

“Yeah,” Harry said absently. He wasn’t so sure of their search anymore. There was something strange about the woman and he had a feeling they wouldn’t find her in any history book.

Harry peered around the door, gazing into the Hospital Wing. There were now eight students in comas, still unexplained and unmentioned by the staff. Even worse, it was rumoured that those who had fallen into comas earliest were growing weaker…slowly dying. He couldn’t believe the professors and headmaster were hiding it, pretending it wasn’t happening, as though the rest of the student body wouldn’t notice their classmates collapsing and never returning.

He jumped, startled at the nearby window suddenly cracking with a loud echo. He sighed as he stared at the crack. Windows breaking had become the newest occurrence to indicate something failing inside Hogwarts. The castle was getting ready to collapse around them, it seemed.

Everything afflicting the castle and its residents had just been continuing and, clearly, worsening. Alongside the newly broken windows were mostly still paintings, cracked stone everywhere, candles that struggled to stay lit and floating, and torches that were extinguishing themselves around the castle.

Conditions among the students were no better. In addition to the devastating comas, the hate was continuing and there were now visible signs that many students were experiencing numerous headache-inducing visions. The visions were no longer restricted to only a couple of them.

He wanted an explanation for it all, was desperate for one. He was tired of the uncertainty and confusion. He wanted to know the what, the how, the why…the who. He felt convinced Voldemort had to be behind it all, but none of the other questions were answered. He could answer one question with a theory, but never all of them.

He, Ron, and Hermione had been researching Mind Magic and the history of Hogwarts for weeks with little success. There was very little recorded about either topic, particularly about Hogwarts, at least in the texts they had access to. They needed details about Hogwarts’ construction, design, and magical system, but there was next to nothing with such details.

Harry found himself getting discouraged. There was so much they didn’t know. They were missing something important.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead in response to his developing stress headache. He turned away from the infirmary and made his way to the Grand Staircase to go and meet Ron and Hermione in the library for yet another research session. As he was walking up one flight of stairs, a rumble suddenly shook the castle, making Harry stumble and have to grab the railing to stay standing. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened; it had been a common occurrence like everything else. It still made Harry and the other students on the stairs look around and hesitate to continue moving on the stairs.

After a minute or two, they all deemed it safe to continue on. Harry stepped onto a staircase with a couple others and waited as it started moving to its other connecting landing. They were about halfway when the castle shook again, only this time, it didn’t stop. Harry and the others with him held onto the railing, attempting to stay upright. As the shaking continued, it got more violent and a deafening groan echoed. Dust and even tiny bits of stone began to rain down from the high ceiling.

Then, all of a sudden, they were falling. The second year Slytherin and fifth year Hufflepuff with him grasped the railing as hard as possible, shutting their eyes and screaming. Other students on the staircase were also gasping and crying out as they watched, unable to do anything.

The stairs they were on had cracked and crumbled away from the landing they were connected to and they were plummeting. Harry waited for the crash, unsure what to do. It wasn’t as long as expected before they were jostled violently by the impact. The crash whipped him around, making him smack his head painfully against the stone railing.

His head was pounding, ears ringing, and vision blurred when he heard muffled screaming. He thought it was from all the watching students, but, when he was finally able to see again, he realized the young Slytherin had been thrown from the stairs in the crash and was now dangling off the edge, screaming for help.

Their stairs had managed to get caught and wedge itself on a landing’s corner and another staircase, severely damaging both. The bottom right of their stairs was unsupported and hovering above the dark abyss, making Harry realize absently that he never really knew what was below the Grand Staircase. Ignoring the thought, he started shuffling down the precarious stairs to the hanging girl. Holding the railing, he reached out for the Slytherin.

“Grab my hand,” Harry called to her.

Sobbing and clearly terrified, the girl hesitated before reaching out as far as she could. After stretching, they managed to clasp hands tightly and Harry pulled, helping her scramble back onto the stairs.

“Okay, both of you, climb up to the stairs we’re caught on,” Harry instructed. “Get off the staircase.”

The Slytherin and Hufflepuff shook their heads, obviously distrustful of their broken stairs’ stability.

“It’ll be okay,” Harry said. “I’ll catch you if you fall. Trust me.”

The Slytherin sobbing and the Hufflepuff biting their lip, they eventually nodded. Harry gave them an encouraging smile and watched them begin to move. They kept one hand on the railing and crawled slowly up the tilted stairs. The Hufflepuff climbed off first onto the supporting stairs and turned to help the Slytherin. Once off, they scurried down to the closest landing and into a corridor to be safe from anymore breaking stairs.

Harry blew out a breath, relieved the others had gotten to safety and beginning to feel exhausted as the adrenaline wore off. He also began to feel the pain in his skull behind his ear where it had hit the stone.

“Potter!”

Harry looked down and found Snape on the landing that was also helping to keep his stairs from falling further. He didn’t bother questioning the relief and happiness he felt at having Snape there to help him.

“Come down and get off of there!” Snape yelled at him.

He really didn’t have the energy to move, but he knew he had to get himself off the stairs. Gathering all the energy he had left, he started his own slow climb across and down the stairs. He hadn’t gotten far when the stairs shook slightly and the sound of scraping, crumbling stone rang out. His stomach sank as his stairs dropped a little further. His eyes widened. The supports were failing and the stairs he was on were about to start falling again. He looked back at Snape. He could almost swear he saw worry in the man’s eyes.

“Potter. Move. Now.”

Harry heard the urgency and began to move again, shuffling as quick as he dared. The stairs continued vibrating and had dropped an inch or two a couple more times. Once near the landing, Snape reached out for him. He grasped Snape’s hand and let the man pull him over the railing and onto the landing. They moved back until they were almost in the connecting corridor.

“Are you alright?” Snape asked, visually examining him.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, just hit my head.”

Snape was about to take a look when the scraping stone made a kind of scream, making them turn to the stairs. They watched, shocked, as the broken staircase broke through its supports and fell. It smashed through another staircase and took out part of a landing before disappearing into the dark. Harry couldn’t help but shiver, having just been on that staircase moments before. He hissed when fingers suddenly prodded his injured scalp.

“Hey!” he cried out. “That hurt!” He shot Snape a glare.

Snape just raised an eyebrow. “Don’t whine.”

Harry kept his half-hearted glare.

“You appear mostly fine,” Snape said. “Are you?”

Harry dropped his glare with a sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Thanks for helping.”

Snape inclined his head, and very lightly and quickly squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Come, let’s get your head healed.”

“Sure,” Harry said, not really wanting to, but also knowing he shouldn’t argue. He was about to start following Snape when glancing down the corridor made him stop. At the very end of the hall, he recognized Dumbledore. The headmaster had been there? Why hadn’t he helped or come to make sure everyone was alright? Only a moment after spotting him, Dumbledore swept away and disappeared down another corridor. He frowned, confused at the headmaster’s actions, or lack thereof, in this case.

“Potter,” Snape called out.

“Right,” Harry said, distracted. “Coming.”

He followed Snape to the Hospital Wing, absentminded the whole way. Even when Ron and Hermione rushed in after hearing what happened, he couldn’t stop thinking about Dumbledore.

Harry sat in his bed with the curtains drawn with a sigh. He had finally escaped the common room after being bombarded with questions about what had happened on the Grand Staircase for what seemed like hours. After the questioning, the Gryffindors had devolved into casting blame onto the other houses, accusing them of destroying the stairs to try and hurt or kill Harry. He didn’t bother to correct them or point out that both a Slytherin and Hufflepuff had been on the stairs with him. They wouldn’t listen.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were terrified to let him out of their sight as though the castle would collapse on top of him the second he was alone. He tolerated the hovering for as long as he could, admitting it had been a scary experience.

Soon, though, he’d had enough, was overwhelmed, and he just needed to be alone and in quiet. He’d convinced Ron and Hermione to let him go by promising he wasn’t going to try and sneak out to go anywhere else. Luckily, he had no intention of doing any such thing and had just collapsed into bed in relief.

He stared up at his canopy, relishing the quiet as his mind ran through a wide variety of things. He replayed the stair collapse, glad they had all escaped before they were seriously harmed. He replayed the moment with Snape, secretly enjoying the comfort he had received from the man, no matter how subtle and brief and strange. Then, his thoughts turned to Dumbledore and he frowned.

He still didn’t fully understand what it meant that Dumbledore had appeared to ignore the stair disaster.

Perhaps he had seen Snape and assumed he wasn’t needed. While possible, it was strange and didn’t seem like something Dumbledore would do.

Or was it?

He flashed through everything he had gone through since stepping foot into Hogwarts. It was fairly common for Harry to get into the danger and find some way to deal with it alone and then Dumbledore would show up. His help was always given after the fact. At the time, there were reasons why Dumbledore wasn’t immediately available, but, as he thought more, he began to winder. Had Dumbledore purposefully ignored Harry in danger? Where had the man been going after Harry spotted him in that hallway?

Still frowning as confusion filled him, he opened the drawer on his bedside table and pulled out the Marauder’s Map. He hadn’t used it in quite some time and his heart hurt as he gazed at it, reminded of the still relatively fresh loss of Sirius. Pushing the sadness down, he picked up his wand from where it sat beside him on the bed.

Tapping the blank parchment, he said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The ink spread across the parchment, creating the Hogwarts design and spelling out the nicknames of the map’s creators. He unfolded the map and, crossing his legs to make space, laid it out in front of himself n the bed. He examined the map, noting where everyone was. There weren’t many students wandering around despite the majority of the student body having remained at Hogwarts that year for Christmas break and it was New Years’ Eve. No one felt much like celebrating. Mostly everyone seemed to be in either the Great Hall or their respective common rooms with some in the library or the Astronomy Tower. He noted the names in the Hospital Wing as the students in comas.

The staff was scattered with some in the Great Hall, some in their offices or personal rooms, and others slowly patrolling the corridors. He searched for Dumbledore at that point, curious about just where the headmaster could be. It didn’t take long to find the man in his office, and Harry chewed his lip in contemplation. Maybe he was just overthinking things. Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t ignore danger and destruction. He must have just determined Snape had it all under control and went to deal with who knows what. The man likely had a lot to concern himself with given everything happening in the castle, and Voldemort’s growing presence in the world.

He sighed and shook his head, repeating to himself that he was just imagining things. He was about to clear the map when something caught his eye. He lifted the flap that was near the lavatory that held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. That area of the map, including that lavatory, was blurred and the lines were squiggly, waving and swaying on the page. He stared at it closely, even brushed the area with his fingers. Nothing like that had ever happened to the map before. It was a damn near perfect piece of magic.

He quickly scanned the map again, looking for any other oddities. He found one other blurred, waving section where Gryffindor Tower was. He looked up, as though whatever was happening on the map would be visible in his curtained bed. When nothing became apparent, as expected, he returned to the map. What was going on with those two areas of the school? Was the map malfunctioning, despite working flawlessly for decades, or was it identifying something in the castle? Could it be connected to Hogwarts’ dying magic?

He was interrupted from pondering further as the other boys in his dorm made their loud entry. He quickly cleared the map and put it back in his table, pulling back his curtains to join the pre-sleep conversation. However, he was only half involved as his other half could not put Dumbledore or the map out of his mind.

Harry blinked and found himself back in a familiar white space. However, this time, there was something different. There were three dark spots and he could feel multiple other presences. He frowned, looking around for the woman he knew would be there. He still hadn’t had any luck finding out who she was. After a little bit, he finally spotted her approaching in the distance.

Like all the other times, she stood in front of him and smiled softly. She looked exactly the same as all the other times he’d seen her. She clasped her hands in front of her as she gazed at him.

“My child,” she said quietly, her voice light.

Harry was stunned to hear her speak for the first time. He hadn’t expected that to change.

“Who are you?” he asked and was startled to hear his words echo in the space.

“I am your home.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the vague, confusing response. “Why have I been dreaming about you and now when I’m awake? What do you want? Who are you?”

“I am your home,” she said again, “and I need my heroes.”

Harry’s frown deepened.

“I am dying, my child,” she said, her smile fading. “You’ve seen it…felt it.”

It was then he finally realized the unbelievable. “You’re Hogwarts.”

She smiled briefly again.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “How is this possible?”

“I possess very old, but very powerful magic,” she said. “My creators’ poured their life into me, giving me life.”

“But…you’re a castle,” Harry said, deadpanned.

She gave him a gentle, but pointed look. “You know I am much more than that.”

Harry silently conceded the accurate point. “But you still can’t die.”

“Technically, no, I cannot. However, everything that makes me Hogwarts can be extinguished,” she said and he gave her a questioning look. “The magic that created me and sustains me has been terribly misused for years. Additionally, my core has been missing for far too long.”

Harry briefly thought about Dumbledore’s mention of Hogwarts’ source.

“Thus, it is my magic that is fading and failing, and you have seen it.”

He pictured everything that had happened to the castle so far, including his near-death on the stairs only that day.

“So, we were right,” Harry said. “Your magic is being drained, but how and by who?”

“Unfortunately, I am able to tell you little,” she said. “I am bound.”

“What kind of person could manage this?”

“A very dark and powerful one.”

“Is your draining connected to the Mind Magic?”

“I cannot say.”

Harry sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do if you can’t tell me anything?”

“You must find the others and discover the truth,” she said.

“What others?”

“The other heroes, four in total.”

“Who are they? Do I know them?”

She smiled. “Quite well. Together, the four of you must return my core and defeat my binder.”

“What’s your core?”

“The Four Swords of the Founders,” she said. “Four swords for four heroes.”

Harry frowned. “Swords?”

She nodded. “You possessed one once, many years ago.”

“The Sword of Gryffindor,” he whispered in realization.

“Yes. It has since been hidden away and the others have been gone for a long time, stolen by the one who binds me,” she explained.

“How will I know who the others are? How do I find the swords? How do I defeat someone powerful enough to destroy you and ancient magic?” Harry asked, desperate and lost.

“Trust in your friends, in the family you have created, the family you have forgotten,” she said and he was taken aback by the feeling of pure love he got from her. “They will guide you and, together, you will return me to my former splendor.”

Harry just stared at her, wondering if he could do what she asked. “What happens if we can’t return the swords?”

She grew sad. “Then my magic, the magic of the Founders, will extinguish forever, and I will cease to exist as the home you know.”

Harry’s stomach twisted painfully. That couldn’t happen.

“Together my heroes will discover the truth and with all my children, you will defeat the true Dark One.”

Her necklace, which he realized was a more antiquated version of the Hogwarts crest, began to glow. He knew she was about to leave, but she couldn’t go! He was still so confused!

“But, I still don’t understand. How do we find the swords? How do we find who’s doing this? How do we defeat them?”

She smiled and held her arms out to the sides as though readying for a hug. “Together,” she repeated and the glow from her necklace engulfed her. It continued to grow, overtaking the space and making Harry shield his eyes. As he was blinded, the white space with the three shadowy areas faded away.

Green, black, grey, and brown eyes snapped open at the exact same moment and the air pulsed around each individual.

Hogwarts’ four heroes had been awakened.

“Wait, wait,” Ron said, interrupting Harry’s telling of his dream. “The woman you’ve been seeing is Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded. “She can apparently take form. Or, at least, the magic here can.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, obviously stunned.

“So, what happened?” Hermione asked.

“Something bad is happening to the school. She said her magic—the Founders’ magic—is failing…dying. Someone is draining and misusing it, has been for a long time, from what it seems,” Harry explained. “Her core is missing and has to be restored or else the magic goes away forever.”

“How awful,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“Did she say who’s doing it?” Ron asked.

“No, she couldn’t,” Harry said. “She said whoever it is has her bound.”

“They’ve got complete control,” Hermione said, “and they must have known Hogwarts taking form was possible.”

“What’s this ‘core’ she mentioned?” Ron asked, taking a large bite of a buttered dinner roll.

“Swords,” Harry said. “The Four Swords of the Founders.”

“You mean like the one the Sorting Hat gave you in the Chamber of Secrets?” Hermione said.

Harry nodded. “That was one, but apparently, it’s gone, hidden somewhere like the others. We have to find them and bring them back to the core here in the castle.”

“’We’?” Ron repeated.

“Where is the core?” Hermione asked.

“Apparently there are three others that I have to find. ‘Four swords for four heroes’, she said,” Harry explained. “As for the core, I have absolutely no idea.”

Ron huffed. “For a sentient castle, she couldn’t give you much, could she?”

“Unfortunately, no, but at least we know what’s going on now, at least with the castle,” Harry said. “We have a better place to start. We can research the swords, try to find out who the other heroes are, and try to figure out where the core is.”

“We can also keep guessing at who’s behind it,” Ron said.

Harry frowned. “I thought we had agreed it was Voldemort?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t fill in all the blanks,” Hermione said. “Harry, what if we’re wrong? What if it’s not him?”

“Who else would it be?” Harry asked, slightly irritated even though a part of him had thought the exact same thing.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, “but we should still try to find out. We have to stop them.”

Harry bit into a sausage, nodding his agreement. Who would want to control and hurt Hogwarts, and everyone inside? His gaze wandered over the students before flickering up to the head table. He was instantly drawn to Dumbledore and was startled to find the man staring at him. The blue eyes were hard and did not change or dart away when they met Harry’s green ones. He frowned at the look and the feeling that something had changed. It reinforced his feeling that he needed to start keeping an eye on the headmaster. He was beginning to wonder if Dumbledore were somehow involved.

“Shall we go to the library after classes today?” Hermione suggested. “I may be able to get us access to the Restricted Section.”

“We definitely need in there,” Harry said. “Tonight then.”

Harry hovered outside the Defense office, biting his lip as he considered whether this was a good idea or not. He had never gotten a response from the man after he went to him for help some time ago. He couldn’t be sure anything had changed, but he had to try. It felt like Snape was the only one he could trust based on the visions he’d had. Snape had a role in helping stop the Mind Magic, he knew it. He was also fairly certain Snape had a role in his life, a role they had both been made to forget. So, he took a deep breath, and quickly knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

Harry hesitated for a second before pushing the door open. He stood just inside and let it close behind him. He waited there for further acknowledgement from the professor behind the desk at the front of the room.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape greeted once he raised his head. “Take a seat.”

Harry crossed the room and sat across from the professor.

“How can I help you?”

“I know you never agreed to anything after I came to you last time, but things have changed and we need your help,” Harry said and Snape looked at him curiously. “The failing Mind Magic is getting more dangerous, we need to know the truth, and Hogwarts is dying.”

Snape’s expression turned sharp. “What did you say?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true,” Harry said. “I had a dream last night and there was this woman. It was Hogwarts and she asked me—”

“To save her,” Snape interrupted, “as one of four heroes.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re one of the other heroes.”

A pain suddenly tore through his head, making him gasp and clap his hands to his temples as though it would help. Based on the gasp he heard from Snape, he assumed the professor was feeling the same thing. The pain, though intense, was brief and, as it ebbed away, he was filled with a comforting warmth. Hogwarts was pleased two of her heroes had found each other.

“Well,” Snape said, raising his head again. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you are one of her chosen ones.”

Harry began to bristle, but then realized there was absolutely no spite in the tone. In fact, he thought he could detect just a touch of amusement.

“Well, you being a chosen one yourself means I don’t have to waste time explaining,” Harry said. “Ron, Hermione, and I have started researching, looking for any information about the swords. We could use help with that, but there’s something else we need your help with.”

“And what would that be?”

“The Mind Magic and…Dumbledore,” Harry said and watched Snape’s eyebrow leap up his forehead. “We need to break the Mind Magic on ourselves. We need and want our real memories, and the ability to know what’s really going on. As for Dumbledore, I’m not sure how much we can trust him. We don’t want him to know what’s going on. When it comes to the mind, you’re the first one I think of.”

“I agree that we have all become victims of very powerful Mind Magic and I also agree that it needs to be broken,” Snape said. “However, I am not sure you understand how dangerous it is to tamper with such magic.”

“No, I understand,” Harry said. “We are up to nine students in comas, with two of them slowly dying. I know they are like that because they pushed their minds too hard.”

“Precisely, Potter.”

“But, what if we do it slowly, discover where to go in our minds, and do it with you to help and protect us?”

“You’re talking about Legilimency,” Snape realized.

Harry nodded. “For finding the truth, yes. For hiding the truth, we need Occlumency. Which means, we need you.”

Snape gazed at him contemplatively, obviously considering the request as well as remembering their Occlumency lessons from the previous year. Harry had remembered as well, but he believed it could be different this time.

“We can’t let this continue. We can’t let students die and we can’t let Hogwarts die,” Harry said earnestly.

“I cannot do Occlumency and Legilimency with the whole of Hogwarts,” Snape said.

“No, but you can do it on enough of us so we can help each other, work together, and fight together,” Harry said.

Snape sighed eventually and nodded. “Very well. However, if you are correct and we cannot trust the headmaster, we need a place and people we can trust,” he said. “With everyone afflicted by Mind Magic, that could prove difficult.”

“We’ll figure all that out,” Harry said. “For now, see what you can find out about the swords.”

“Ordering me around, are you?” Snape said, raising an eyebrow again.

This time, Harry knew he heard amusement. “I don’t see you ripping me apart for it,” he returned with his own smirk.

There was so much between them that they couldn’t remember, he could feel it. He wished he knew even a fraction of it.

“You are an irritating brat, Potter.”

“Maybe, but you still love me,” a younger Harry said with a grin.

Harry winced at the headache he immediately gained, but stared at Snape through it.

“Maybe,” he said, repeating the vision, “but I keep you entertained.”

He saw Snape’s face twitch minutely and he wondered if the man had had the same vision and recognized the line Harry had said but changed.

“I suppose so,” Snape said. “On your way now, Mr. Potter. Return with a plan.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and he left the office.

Once in the hall, he let out a deep breath. He had discovered another hero and enlisted Snape’s help. Having Snape to help on all fronts would be a huge benefit to them. However, the man was right. They needed trustworthy people willing to fight with them and a place to prepare. They couldn’t constantly be seen with Snape or even members of other houses. They had to assume they were being watched at all times.

He had an idea, but he needed Ron and Hermione, so he hurried to meet them in the library as they had planned that morning. He nodded at Madam Pince who just glared at him and he found his friends at a table at the back of the library near the door to the Restricted Section. The table was covered in a little under a dozen texts, Hermione and Ron each in the middle of flipping through one.

“Find anything?” Harry asked.

They both shook their heads.

“Not yet,” Hermione said. “I did get access to the Restricted Section for the next week though.”

“Great,” Harry said, glad they could try find other sources of information on the swords. “So, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Ron and Hermione leaned in, giving him their full attention.

“Snape’s one of the other heroes,” Harry said quietly.

“What?” Ron said loudly, gaining a sharp shush from Hermione.

“I went to talk to him and we figured it out. He had the same dream with Hogwarts,” Harry said. “There’s something else. He’s agreed to help us, both with the swords and with the Mind Magic.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hermione said.

“He made a couple of good points though,” Harry said and they looked at him curiously. “He can’t help everyone with their memories, so we need to talk to the students, find who can help, who wants to fight, and who’s currently most at risk. Second, we don’t know who we can trust, so we need a safe place."

"What about the Room of Requirement again, like last year with the DA?” Ron suggested.

Harry thought about it and nodded. “We need to get a message to students, set up a meeting, but we can’t let anyone else know what we’re doing,” he said.

“What about in Hogsmeade?” Hermione offered. “There’s a visit coming up this weekend. We could ask everyone to meet somewhere there again. It worked with the DA.”

Harry nodded again. “You and Ron have a Head Boy and Girl meeting tomorrow, right?”

They both confirmed his guess.

“Give the Heads a message to pass to each house,” Harry said. “That way we won’t be seen interacting with other houses when we’re ‘not supposed to’.”

“It’s a good idea,” Hermione agreed.

Glad they had a plan, Harry smiled and grabbed a book. He didn’t bother using the table of contents or index if there was one. Information on the swords could be anywhere. So, he started slowly turning pages, skimming each for anything that could be helpful. He had only gotten a few pages in when they gained more company.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up in surprise at Malfoy. He hadn’t interacted with the Slytherin in a while so he was surprised when he didn’t immediately feel hatred as he usually did.

“I need to talk to you,” Malfoy said, seeming to be uncomfortable.

Harry stared at him for a minute before nodding. He got up from the table and followed Malfoy down a few rows of books. Harry put his hands in his pockets and waited for Malfoy to begin the conversation.

Malfoy blew out a breath, seeming to be annoyed with himself. “Look, Potter, you’re probably still crazy, but everyone in this bloody school seems to be, especially this year.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t disagree. Even without intense Mind Magic, Hogwarts had some strange characters.

“Last time we…talked,” Malfoy said awkwardly and Harry raised an eyebrow, “you, uh, you mentioned…asked if I’d seen a woman.”

Harry’s stare intensified and his interest instantly spiked.

“Bloody hell, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Malfoy muttered to himself. “Last night…last night, I…”

Harry took pity on the blonde and filled in the blanks. “You saw her last night, didn’t you, in a dream?”

Malfoy looked at him, shocked Harry knew what he was trying to say. Harry, on the other hand, couldn’t believe he’d found another of Hogwarts’ heroes only a day after the dream.

“You’re a hero,” Harry said and, like with Snape, he and Malfoy grabbed their heads in pain before being overcome by a sense of warmth.

“I’m not crazy?” Malfoy said and Harry was surprised at the vulnerability being shown.

“I’m not crazy?” a young Harry whispered to a young Malfoy.

“No, you’re not, promise,” Malfoy said, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry shook his head. “No, you’re not, promise.”

Malfoy blinked in recognition of the repeated line, confirming he, too, had seen the vision.

“Hogwarts’ magic is being drained sustaining powerful Mind Magic,” Harry explained shortly.

“Mind Magic,” Malfoy repeated quietly. “So, the visions, the comas, the…emotions…”

“The Mind Magic failing because Hogwarts is failing.”

Malfoy was clearly overwhelmed.

“Come on,” Harry said, making a quick decision. “You can help us.”

“With what?”

“We’re trying to find anything we can about the swords,” Harry said. “It’s pretty slow-going.”

Malfoy’s eyes flickered in Ron and Hermione’s direction. He knew what the blonde was thinking and even he was considering it. The Mind Magic seemed to have dipped slightly, decreasing the overwhelming anger in the castle, but it was still there.

“You’re a hero,” Harry said. “Hogwarts said we had to work together.”

“I suppose,” Malfoy said, regaining some of his haughtiness.

Harry gave a small smile, realizing he preferred the cocky and confident blonde to this sullen, vulnerable one. He tilted his head toward Ron and Hermione as a gesture for Malfoy to follow him as he started walking back to his friends.

Once there, as expected, Ron and Hermione cast suspicious glances at Malfoy while he mustered up his own traditional sneer.

Harry sat and handed Malfoy a book, just waiting when Malfoy hesitated to take it for a few seconds.

“It has proven to be a productive day,” Harry said lightly, gently but firmly shoving a text into Malfoy’s hands. “Malfoy, here, is also one of Hogwarts’ heroes. Would you sit down already?” he snapped at the Slytherin.

Ron was about to make a comment on Malfoy being a hero when he yelped and glared at Hermione who was shooting him a pointed look. Harry’s lips twitched, amused. Hermione had apparently kicked Ron under the table to shut him up.

Harry looked up at Malfoy who still hadn’t moved. “Well?” he said, gesturing at the empty chair.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and kept his sneer up, though Harry could tell it was very half-hearted, as he pulled the chair back and sat down.

There was a heavy tension at the table, but there was also a small sense of ease buried underneath as they quietly scanned for information on an essentially non-existent topic.

Harry stared out at the dozen or so students looking at him expectantly and he was instantly reminded of the meeting that created the DA. The scene was nearly identical given that they had chosen the Hog’s Head again. The only difference was the amount of listening students. Ron and Hermione had done as agreed and passed messages to the Head Boy and Girl of the other houses, asking any students that were being affected daily by visions, headaches, and tumultuous emotions to meet in the Hog’s Head during the Hogsmeade visit to hear a solution.

There weren’t many, but he wasn’t surprised. The Mind Magic, while slowly fading, was still extremely strong and keeping everyone angry and distrustful. He couldn’t help but feel nervous. Was he prepared to lead again? Prepared to enlist others' help and potentially put them in danger to fight the ultimate evil?

He took a deep breath and took a step forward to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, so, if you’re here, it’s because you’ve been affected by visions and uncontrollable emotions, and you’ve been wondering about the comas,” he said. “We know what’s going on.”

He paused, taking in the intense stares that all had a touch of skepticism in them.

“The castle is under strong Mind Magic,” he announced, “but it’s also failing which is why we feel out of control and students are in comas.” He watched the faces in front of him change, becoming a mixture of astonishment, doubt, confusion, and fear. A murmur ran through the group.

“How do you know?” Seamus asked, clearly unsure if he should believe such a claim and Harry understood the doubt. Mind Magic wasn’t common and to hold it over an entire school would take an insane amount of power, a power unheard of in almost anyone.

“Process of elimination mostly,” Harry said honestly. “We’ve researched what we can, talked to others, compared experiences. There’s not a lot of information on Mind Magic, but it is the only thing that explains everything.”

As expected, a few students walked out. He had known it would be hard for people to trust what he was saying when he couldn’t tell them anything with one hundred percent knowledge or certainty.

“Let’s say you’re right and it is Mind Magic,” a seventh year Hufflepuff said, “who cast it?” They crossed their arms, indicating pessimism.

Harry sighed. He had known this question would be asked and he didn’t have an answer. “We don’t know,” he admitted. “We’re trying to find out.”

More students left, leaving just nine remaining.

“Look, we don’t know who or why, but we can fix it, at least for some of us,” Harry said. “There’s a way to break the magic on ourselves, find what’s real, what we’ve forgotten or had hidden from us. It’s dangerous though.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked.

“Legilimency,” Harry said, “with Professor Snape.”

“Are you insane? Snape?” Seamus snapped, his eyes narrowing with the hate he obviously felt at the mere mention of the man’s name.

Harry sighed again. “Maybe, but haven’t you been feeling like you’re going crazy? Don’t you want to know why it’s happening and want it to stop? This is how we do that.”

Seamus didn’t respond, but Harry could tell the Irishman was taking Harry’s words seriously.

“If you want it all to stop, but not end up in a coma, Snape’s our only option. He’s a master of Legilimency and he’s had the same things happening to him that we have, so we can trust him,” Harry told them. “The way I see it, we have three options: trust Snape, live with fake memories and feelings, or fall into a coma and die, because that’s what’s happening to those kids in the Hospital Wing.”

He knew it was harsh, but he needed them to understand. He needed them to know what they were fighting against and that they needed to fight. They needed to keep weakening the Mind Magic, but they had to do it safely and together.

“If you’re okay with either of the last two options, then leave,” Harry said, “because we need people willing to take the risk to find the truth so we can fight.”

There was a heavy silence during which a couple more walked out. He was left with seven: Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ginny, Dennis Creevey, Luna, and Malfoy. Dennis stepped forward, his eyes shining.

“I’m in,” he said. “I want to know why my brother is dying and why no one’s talking about it.”

Harry’s heart ached for the younger boy, taking a moment to remember the overly excited Colin he knew. A murmur of agreement moved through the others.

“We don’t know who we can trust. Whoever is doing this is watching us,” Harry said. “How else would they know when to increase the magic and make us fight anytime things settle down?”

“So, what can we do?” Luna asked.

“We can’t be seen together so we’re going to use the Room of Requirement just like last year with the DA,” Harry said. “We’ll get messages to everyone when we get things sorted.”

“Another army,” Ginny said.

Harry nodded seriously. “We need one.”

Harry knocked on the door to the Potions office, watching a couple Slytherins pass while shooting him hate-filled glares. He just shook his head and turned back to the office as the door opened.

“Ah, Harry, good evening,” Slughorn greeted.

“You asked to see me, Professor?” Harry said, referring to the note Slughorn had passed him in class. He had been confused, but also wondered if he’d have another chance to get Slughorn’s real memory. He hadn’t had another meeting with Dumbledore since he instructed Harry to get Slughorn’s memory, but he didn’t want to show up empty-handed when they did meet again.

“Yes, yes, come in,” Slughorn said, motioning for Harry to enter the office. Once inside, Slughorn closed the door and walked around Harry to be in front of him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation at my party.”

“I apologize if I upset you or made you uncomfortable, sir,” Harry said, remembering the man’s almost startled reaction when he started asking about Tom Riddle. “I hope you understand, I just want to know more. I hope to discover why the things I’ve gone through had to happen.” He wasn’t really lying. He did want to know why his parents died and why Voldemort wanted him dead, despite just being a child.

Slughorn took a step closer to him, his expression intense and serious. “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I do not believe those things had to happen.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand.”

Slughorn moved even closer as though he had to make sure no one else would hear him even though they were alone. “The Tom Riddle you described to me did not exist,” he said in a low voice, gesturing somewhat wildly with his hands.

Harry frowned, even more confused. “What do you mean?”

“Tom was a wonderful boy when I knew him. He showed no signs that he would become what he did. He was hurt and troubled, certainly. Understandably, considering his life before Hogwarts, but the longer he was here, the more he healed. He found himself, made friends, created a home,” Slughorn explained. “I daresay he was happy.”

Harry couldn’t seem to make sense of what the professor was telling him, especially not in the context of all he knew about Voldemort.

“Professor, what are you saying?”

Slughorn looked at him with wide, serious eyes. “He was made into what he became; he did not choose it.”

Harry stared into Slughorn’s eyes, trying to understand. What could the man possibly mean? His mind was racing, trying to find the lie because there had to be one. What Slughorn was telling him was in direct conflict with what he knew and what Dumbledore was telling him. He had no idea what to say.

His eyes widened when Slughorn held up a vial with a familiar liquid. Was he about to succeed and get the memory Dumbledore desperately needed?

“Please, look and understand,” Slughorn said.

Harry nodded and followed the professor to the very back of the room. There was a wooden box, about the same height as Harry’s upper abdomen, tucked into the corner. Slughorn slid off a top slab of wood, revealing a Pensieve sat underneath. He watched the memory pour into the basin and swirl around, an image of a young Tom Riddle rising to the surface. He glanced at Slughorn who nodded and gestured for him to enter the memory. He did so, bending until his face submerged into the Pensieve and he was pulled into the memory.

Once on his feet, he gazed around. It was just like the second half of the fake memory Dumbledore had shown him. He was in the Potions office and the table was still there, only it was empty except for Slughorn and Tom Riddle. There was something different, however. Looking at Tom, instead of cockiness and well-planned manipulation, he saw what seemed to be worry or even fear.

“Tom, are you quite alright?” Slughorn asked, putting his gift of candied pineapple from Tom to the side. “You’ve been fairly quiet since the others left.”

Tom didn’t respond for a bit. He seemed to be contemplating what to say to the professor, if anything. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “Professor, can I confide in you?”

“Of course, my boy, you know you can,” Slughorn said kindly, making Harry wonder what kinds of things Tom had confided to the man. How close had the two become before Slughorn realized what the boy was becoming?

Tom stared at the tabletop, his finger scratching at a non-existent nick in the wood. He had never seen any version of Voldemort act this way. It was so strange.

“I…found something, a chamber built by Salazar Slytherin. I entered it and there was…”

Tom trailed off, apparently unsure how to explain. Slughorn just waited patiently, watching Tom with a gentle, patient expression.

“There was something in there, something that I felt settle over me,” Tom continued. “It’s…it’s in me and I can’t get rid of it.”

Harry frowned. What had Tom encountered? What could have been in the Chamber of Secrets when Tom opened it? There had been no strange magic when he found the Chamber, so was Tom lying or had whatever it was been absorbed by him completely? Why would Slytherin have cursed the Chamber? There was already a Basilisk down there and you had to be a Parselmouth to enter in the first place.

“What do you mean, Tom?” Slughorn asked.

Tom looked at the professor with a very worried expression. “I think there was a curse or something evil, Professor. It’s like every negative feeling I have has been amplified and I can’t control them.”

“Oh dear,” Slughorn said, sounding concerned.

“I explored and I found a book,” Tom said. “I read about a strange piece of magic and I can’t stop thinking about it. I asked Dumbledore, but I thought you might be able to tell me more.”

“I’ll do my best, my boy, but should you really have touched anything down there after what you just told me?” Slughorn asked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Tom said.

“Very well. What was the piece of magic you found?”

“It was called a horcrux.”

Slughorn’s eyes widened in shock and fear. “Horcruxes?” he exclaimed. “Merlin’s beard! What did Professor Dumbledore tell you?”

“Nothing, but he told me to learn more if it was something I found interesting. He said it was good to be interested in exploring different areas of magical academia,” Tom said, looking surprised at Slughorn’s reaction. Harry frowned again. He had no idea what a horcrux was, but it clearly wasn’t anything good, so why would Dumbledore have encouraged Tom to learn about them? Could Tom be lying?

“I do not agree,” Slughorn declared firmly. “Horcruxes are a dark form of magic, one of the darkest.”

“What are they, sir?” Tom asked.

Slughorn hesitated. “It is a vessel to hold a piece of a human soul. While it survives, so does the person, even if at death’s door.”

“How are they made?” Tom asked, seeming to have a suddenly strong desire to learn more.

Slughorn’s eyebrows came together, concerned at Tom’s odd interest. “Murder, Tom, the most evil of acts.”

“Is there a limit on how many times a soul can be split?”

“Tom, you can’t be serious,” Slughorn said, aghast. “This isn’t you.”

Tom shook his head as though pulling himself from a daydream or deep thought. “I…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what’s happened to me,” he said, his face drawn and his eyes darting around before they settled on Slughorn, shining with emotion. “Sir, I…I’m afraid.”

Slughorn’s expression gentled. “You are not evil, Tom. I know you and I believe in you. You can fight this, whatever it is.”

The memory faded then and he was removed from the Pensieve. Back in the current day, he gripped the sides of the Pensieve’s stand, staring down at the image of Tom Riddle as his mind whirled. Was this what Dumbledore wanted? Slughorn told Tom about horcruxes, but he seemed afraid for Tom. Had Dumbledore really encouraged Tom to learn about horcruxes? Why would he do that?

Was Tom telling the truth about something happening to him in the Chamber? He had looked sincerely scared and he seemed to imply that he was being pulled to the dark magic he’d discovered. Could Tom have been manipulated into falling into the Dark Arts? If so, what did that mean for…everything he knew and had experienced?

“Tom changed after that, after finding that chamber,” Slughorn said and he turned to face the man. “Whatever was in that chamber drew him to the Dark Arts, took over his mind, convinced him it was what he wanted. He’d had interest in dark magic before, but by his sixth year, he had dropped that interest, and he’d certainly never had an interest in pursuing or using the Dark Arts.”

How could that be?

“What was it, in the Chamber?” Harry asked.

“I honestly do not know,” Slughorn said, shrugging and shaking his head. “It could have been anything from a Compulsion Charm or potion to Mind Magic.”

Harry looked at him sharply. “Mind Magic?”

“It’s possible,” Slughorn said.

Harry’s thoughts ran faster. Could Mind Magic have been over Hogwarts for all this time, for decades? Was that possible? Why would anyone keep a school under Mind Magic for so long? How could anyone have gotten any kind of magic into the Chamber of Secrets? It had to be Tom so he had to have been lying, or Slughorn had faked another memory. Except it wasn’t hazy like the false memory Dumbledore had shown him.

The only thing that made a slight bit of sense was that someone was lying. But who?

He thought about something else Tom had said.

“Tom said he’d gone to Dumbledore,” Harry said, hating to even consider the theory. “Would Dumbledore really have encouraged Tom to learn about horcruxes?”

“I never would have believed it, but I also never knew Tom to lie, at least not to me,” Slughorn said and Harry gave him a curious glance. “Tom had a lot of trust in me and we had a very close relationship. He confided in me about his childhood, his fear, any problems he had…” he trailed off, pulled into reverie.

“Could Dumbledore have been involved in Tom’s changes?” Harry asked.

“I find it hard to believe, but he did have a strange fascination with Tom and anything is possible, I suppose,” Slughorn said.

Harry leaned heavily against the Pensieve’s stand. Could Dumbledore have done something to Tom? Could it all have been Dumbledore? But why? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense if Dumbledore were involved. It couldn’t be…

Slughorn sighed sadly and Harry lifted his eyes to the professor again. “I regret I could not help Tom, help save him from what he became,” he said.

Harry was stunned at how affectionately Slughorn talked about Tom. No one had ever expressed such care towards any version of Tom.

Slughorn met his gaze, the man’s eyes shining with tears. “You must understand, Tom was truly remarkable before he was changed.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the professor. “You seemed to care a lot about him.”

Slughorn nodded. “I never admitted it then, and I’ve felt too much guilt and shame all these years to admit it, but I truly cared for him as though he were my own.”

Harry gazed at Slughorn compassionately. He had a hard time believing that the man could be lying. He seemed sincere. Had Tom been that manipulative, able to make his professor come to love him like a son just to extort information about an obscure piece of dark magic from him years later? What would Tom have gained from such a con? Was it Dumbledore all along? What would the headmaster have gained from any it?

He sighed and pushed away from the Pensieve he’d been leaning on the whole time. “Thank you for showing me this, Professor,” he said. “I should be getting back to the Tower.”

“Yes, of course,” Slughorn said, pulling himself out of his sad memories. “I hope this has helped you in some way.”

Harry nodded. “It has, thank you,” he said even though it was a lie. He had far more questions than understanding. “Good night, sir.”

“And you, my dear boy.”

Harry left the office and made the entire trip up to Gryffindor Tower completely on autopilot. He could not make his thoughts slow down or settle into any kind of comprehension. He walked directly to his dorm and was about to drop onto his bed when something broke through his dazed state.

An envelope with his name in a sweeping scrawl in the front lay casually on his pillow.

His forehead creased and he frowned, confused. He didn’t recognize the writing and he didn’t understand why a letter would have been left on his pillow.

He reached for it and turned it over. There was a blob of red wax sealing it, but nothing had been pressed into the wax. There was nothing indicative of the sender on the envelope. He considered tossing it in the trash or even the fire, but there was a part of him telling him to open it. He ripped it open and pulled out the short letter. His eyebrows nearly touched with his deep frown.

H.,

I believe it is time for us to meet. There is much you need to know. Meet me at the Bronze Dragon in three days after dark. Do not let him know.

T.

“How could you have been so reckless?” Snape said to a younger Harry with a bandaged arm.

“I’m sorry, but we had to save Ginny and we couldn’t find anyone that would help,” Harry said.

“You almost died,” Snape said firmly though his tone was full of concern rather than anger.

“I know,” Harry said quietly, dropping his eyes.

Snape sighed and gently tugged Harry’s uninjured arm to pull him against his chest in a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around the man and laid his head against the warm chest.

“I won’t do it again, promise,” Harry mumbled.

Snape’s chest bounced lightly with his quiet chuckle. “Yes, you will, child, but it is alright.”

“Potter, what do you want?”

Harry shook himself, pulling himself from the vision that had appeared randomly when he entered the Defense classroom. His lips twitched, wanting to smile at the vision, a part of him wishing it was real. He brought himself back to the current moment, seeing Snape’s raised eyebrow and slightly annoyed expression. He’d decided to forgo lunch in favour of talking to Snape about everything Slughorn had told him and the curious letter he had received the previous night. Considering the man was one of Hogwarts’ heroes, it felt like Snape was one of the only professors they could trust. He crossed the room so he was standing in front of Snape at his desk.

“Sir, I have something to show you,” Harry said, deciding it would be easier to deal with the letter first. He held it out when Snape looked at him in question. He waited, chewing the inside of his cheek, as the man’s eyes darted over the short note and narrowed before flicking back to him.

“What is this?” Snape asked shortly.

“I found it last night,” Harry said. “When I got back to the dorm, it was on my pillow. I think it’s from Voldemort.”

“How is that possible?”

Harry just shrugged. Just because he thought it was from Voldemort, it didn’t mean he was certain or that he knew the how or why.

Snape’s eyes narrowed again as he looked at Harry and leaned forward. “You had better not be considering this.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I mean—”

Snape’s sharp gaze turned into a hard glare. “Potter, think for once in your life and don’t be an utter idiot.”

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. “I am thinking. I told you about it, didn’t I, rather than just running off on my own?”

Snape just continued staring at him.

“Why shouldn’t we think about it?” Harry asked and Snape’s expression turned slightly dumbfounded, as though he couldn’t comprehend Harry’s idiocy.

“Has it not been your theory that it is Riddle responsible for everything?” Snape said pointedly. “Not to mention everything else he has been responsible for.”

“What if we’re wrong?” Harry responded quickly, gaining a questioning look from the professor. “What if everything we think we know is wrong?”

They stared at each other intently.

“What are you talking about?” Snape asked.

“You mean, besides everything already going on trying to tell us we’re wrong?” Harry said and then sighed. “I talked to Slughorn last night and he told me—showed me a memory—about Tom Riddle in school.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, silently asking why this was relevant.

“According to Slughorn, Tom had no interest in the Dark Arts, that he was actually happy,” Harry said. “He said Tom changed after opening the Chamber of Secrets as though under a compulsion or Mind Magic.”

Snape’s gaze sharpened, obviously thinking the same things Harry had.

“He read about horcruxes, felt compelled to explore dark magic,” Harry continued. “When he went to Dumbledore, Dumbledore told him to learn more, that it was good he’d found an ‘academic interest’.”

Snape still didn’t respond, but had a serious expression as he listened.

“Slughorn thinks Tom was manipulated into the Dark Arts and the things he did,” Harry said. “So. What if we’re wrong about everything we think we know?”

“None of that indicates that we can trust him.”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t,” Harry fired back. “The reality is, we don’t know who we can trust anymore.”

“Potter…” Snape said, clearly unsure.

“Shouldn’t we find out what the truth is?” Harry said. “There’s a lot we don’t know, a lot we can’t remember, and he’s part of that, whether good or bad.”

Snape breathed deeply and Harry could tell the man was about to argue against the idea.

“What if he has answers? No one else seems to have any and I would very much like to know what the hell is going on. What this is between us, what’s missing, why I even thought of you first of all people to show this to,” Harry said in a final effort to convince Snape to agree with him. He frowned when Snape didn’t respond. Maybe he was wrong and the man hadn’t been seeing or feeling the same things he was. He sighed. “What else have we got to lose?”

“Our lives, Potter,” Snape said, deadpanned.

“Except they’re not our lives, not really,” Harry argued.

“If you think I can, in good conscience, let you go off with the darkest wizard in history, then you must truly be an imbecile.”

“We already know I am, but what if he’s not? We need to know.”

A long, heavy silence fell. Harry thought he’d been pretty convincing and hoped he wouldn’t have to add that he’d be going to the meeting with or without Snape’s approval. He assumed a part of Snape probably already knew that. Plus, a part of him wanted Snape’s approval. He wanted the man to agree with him, support him, help him. The silence carried on so long Harry was certain Snape was going to refuse or just say nothing, so he was stunned by the man’s eventual response, to say the least.

“Very well, but I am coming with you.”

Harry blinked in shock. “What?”

“Like I said, you do not expect me to allow you to meet with a dark wizard possibly hell-bent on your death alone, do you?” Snape said pointedly, his eyebrow raised.

Harry struggled for a reply. “I…I guess not,” he said simply. “Won’t he kill you for being a traitor if he really is the Voldemort we think we know?”

“And he won’t kill you for being Harry Potter?”

Harry had to concede to the man’s well-made point. “Well then, how do we get to Hogsmeade on Saturday after dinner?”

Snape smirked slightly. “No grand plan, Potter?”

Harry glared half-heartedly, crossing his arms.

“Of course, I suppose I forgot your ability to think before acting had limits,” Snape said, his smirk growing.

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t angry, though, not even irritated. He felt more amused than anything and it seemed Snape possibly felt the same. He pretended, though. He couldn’t let Snape know he thought the man had been funny.

“I will sort it out,” Snape eventually added. “Meet me in my office an hour after dinner. I will get us to Hogsmeade. Enlist your friends to run diversions if needed.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“That is all the time we have,” Snape said, standing as the door to his classroom opened. “To class, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, sir.”

The days leading up to the meeting were some of the longest in Harry’s life. The minutes dragged by while his classes blurred together in his distraction. He couldn’t focus on anything as his mind constantly came up with scenarios they could encounter upon their arrival in the village. Almost all of them involved them being completely wrong and being murdered in some horrific way by Voldemort who relished in their stupidity.

A part of him was seriously doubting this plan, but he couldn’t let Snape know. He had tried so hard to convince the man the meeting was a good idea; he couldn’t retreat now.

He’d let his friends know about the plan and they came up with a few ideas on how to deal with Dumbledore or any other professor if they ended up looking for him while he was gone. He’d even enlisted Luna and Malfoy to help out if needed. He’d been surprised at Malfoy’s easy agreement and couldn’t help but wonder what was missing between them too. He hadn’t had as many visions involving Malfoy as he had Snape, but he still knew there were things they couldn’t remember.

He was nervous as he picked and pushed his way through his dinner. No matter which way the meeting went, something big would change that evening. Either he’d be killed and Voldemort would take the wizarding world or their reality would completely implode.

He couldn’t stop glancing up at the head table to see if Snape had left or not and at his watch, keeping track of the minutes. He hated all this waiting; it was making him anxious.

“Harry, you’re being too obvious that something’s going on,” Hermione whispered. “Relax.”

“I know,” he whispered back. He knew he shouldn’t be constantly looking at Snape or showing his nervousness, but he couldn’t help it. He did his best, though, for the rest of dinner, forcing himself to stare at his food while forcing down a few bites.

Eventually dinner ended and, after a long hour of staring into the fire while sitting tensely in the common room, it was time to meet Snape. As per the plan, he threw on his invisibility cloak to avoid anyone spotting him going to see Snape at such an odd hour. He snuck down to the Defense office and slipped inside without knocking.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes widened, and he backed hurriedly into a corner when he found himself staring at Dumbledore’s back. He saw Snape’s eyes flicker to the door and Dumbledore turned to look at the door when it clicked shut.

“A latching problem, Severus?” the headmaster inquired lightly, his eyebrows raised.

“Just brats trying to entertain themselves by harassing me,” Snape lied easily, pulling a sneer onto his face.

Dumbledore hummed and Harry’s heart pounded, wondering if the headmaster believed Snape. “Come see me once you’ve returned and inform me about the plans for the young Malfoy.”

Harry frowned slightly, wondering what Snape had come up with to excuse his absence. He stiffened and his heart attempted to pound out of his chest when the headmaster turned to leave and the blue eyes looked directly at him. He was reminded of second year in Hagrid’s hut when he and Ron were hidden under the cloak. Dumbledore had looked directly at them then too. Could Dumbledore see through invisibility cloaks? Was that possible without something like Moody’s magical false eye?

He watched Dumbledore pass by and leave with his breath held. Even once the man was gone, he didn’t move and hardly breathed.

“Potter?”

Harry’s gaze jumped to Snape and he removed the cloak. “Sorry, sir, I—”

“Do not worry. It was an unexpected visit from the headmaster that you could not have known about,” Snape said.

“Does he know?” Harry asked, referring to the possibly dangerous excursion they were about to go on.

“It is unclear,” Snape said and Harry’s stomach twisted. “Not something to concern ourselves with at this time. We must go. Are you ready?”

Harry nodded.

“Right, cloak on and follow closely,” Snape instructed.

Harry did so without question, remembering the plan. The only way for Harry to get to Hogsmeade was on foot, so he would be following Snape out of the castle and to the village under his cloak. To anyone watching, Snape would appear to be heading to Hogsmeade alone to conduct personal business. There should be no signs indicating Snape had company.

So, he followed the man as closely as possible, staying directly behind him once outside so his cloak would wipe away his footprints in the snow, but make it look like it was only Snape’s prints and dragging cloak.

He’d never been to or even heard of the Bronze Dragon. It was outside Hogsmeade so students weren’t permitted to go there. He’d only ever been to the village during the day and with throngs of other students, making it seem so lively, even now with several closed shops. Now, passing through at night with no other patrons and all the shops closed except the two pubs, it was eerie. It did nothing to ease his tension as they approached the pub on the other side of the village.

It didn’t look too different from the Three Broomsticks. A wooden exterior, windows with a film on them to make them hazy to look through, a low wooden roof, and a smoking chimney on top. A warm, golden light poured out of the filtered windows, making the snow on the ground glow amber. The main difference was the large dragon sign hanging over the door, made of a bronze metal that glinted in the light in the window. It was in a crouched pose, its tail curled up into the air over its back, and fire spewing from its open, fanged mouth.

Snape pulled the door open, holding it as Harry slipped inside, and stepped in close behind.

Harry gazed around. It was a warmer, more inviting place than any of the other pubs he’d been inside. Directly across from the door and spanning a good several feet sat the bar with the bartender behind. Stools lined the bar while booths and tables with chairs were arranged along the outer perimeter. Each table had a candle carved to look like a dragon breathing fire floating overhead. 

The place was empty besides the bartender and a tall, hooded figure sat at a table in a far back corner.

He felt a brush against the cloak on his back and knew it was Snape telling him to take it off. If the bartender noticed another person appearing out of nowhere, he didn’t show it. The professor touched his back again, encouraging him to approach the occupied table. They walked up to the table, approaching from behind the figure and, once they were beside the table, the hood was pulled back and the head lifted.

Harry’s mouth fell open unceremoniously and his eyes widened as he stared in shock at the man before him. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting; probably the barely-human Voldemort that came out of that cauldron two years prior and possessed him last year. However, that was not who was sitting before him. There were features he recognized: the eyes, at least in shape, as they were missing the slit pupils and red colour but he knew these eyes from memories, the dark hair also from memories, the slender body, the pale skin, the slender face though it had regained the handsomeness he was once praised for. This person seemed to have stepped right out of one of Dumbledore’s memories. This was not the monster he had faced the last couple of years.

What kind of trick was he playing?

“Harry, Severus,” the man said, nodding at each of them. “I am very glad you agreed to meet with me.”

The voice was so similar to what he had already associated with this man, but it was missing the hiss he’d become accustomed to hearing. He gasped at the sudden sharp pain that tore through his head. It was the same pain he’d been feeling with the visions, but no vision came. Was there something hidden in his mind that couldn’t break through for some reason? Why had other visions come through, but not this time?

Once the pain disappeared, he stared at the man again, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who are you?” Harry said, almost in a whisper, unable to believe this was Voldemort.

The man gave a very small smile. “Would you care to sit?”

Harry hesitated, not sure if he should place himself in a more vulnerable position. He glanced at Snape to see what the professor though. After a moment and without looking away from the other man, he gave a minute nod, and he and Harry sat.

“How long until your absence is noticed?” the man asked.

“An hour,” Snape said shortly.

“Very well. We will get right to it,” the man said and met both of their gazes. “You asked who I am. You mostly know me as Lord Voldemort, though that name was imposed on me. I did not create the moniker. My true name is Tom Riddle.”

Harry blinked and his mind already started racing. He had known that would be the answer to his question, but he still couldn’t make his brain understand.

“How?” he breathed. “How is this possible?”

Riddle sighed. “That is a long story and the purpose of this meeting.”

“Then you better get started,” Harry said stiffly. “Start with how this is you. This is not how you returned.”

“Technically, there was no ‘return’ and this is how I’ve always looked,” Riddle said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Riddle let out a breath and clasped his hands—with their normal, non-skeletal fingers—on the table. “Let’s take a step back. First, you and others have been having memory flashes, correct? As well as emotional outbursts and memory dreams?”

“You mean the visions?” Harry said, frowning. “How do you know about that?” He instantly grew suspicious.

“How serious has it gotten?” Riddle asked.

“Nine in comas, two in magical failure,” Snape said.

“I see,” Riddle said.

Harry felt rage build at Riddle’s calm, almost disinterested demeanour. It was him! “You’re doing this! You’re killing them! Why?”

“I understand your assumption, but you are incorrect,” Riddle said. “I assume you have already gathered that it is failing Mind Magic causing all of these things. However, I am not the caster.”

“Then who is?” Harry challenged, his heart pounding.

This was it.

“Albus Dumbledore.”

And his world fell apart.

Sure, he’d had a small part of him growing suspicious of the headmaster, but no one else had echoed that tiny voice…until now. His mind raced through every moment he’d had with Dumbledore over the years, trying to understand how he could be responsible. It was impossible! Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time, was the leader of the Light, had protected Harry and Hogwarts numerous times. He’d been teaching Harry about the Dark Lord Voldemort all these years! He’d fought Voldemort, not Dumbledore! Voldemort wanted him dead, not Dumbledore!

“You’re lying,” Harry growled. “Why would Dumbledore do this? You’re the evil one!”

Riddle leaned forward slightly. “I understand your disbelief. You’re still heavily affected by the Mind Magic and he is very good at what he does. However, there is one thing you do not know or understand about Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry and Snape just glared in Riddle’s pause.

“To him, life is a game and people are the pieces. He started a game many, many years ago in which he would choose the players and manipulate them. It became a bit of an experiment,” Riddle explained. “When subjected to horrible, yet still different circumstances, what path will young people choose? Of course, it’s not purely choice. He still has to have the control.”

Harry was angry at the accusations. “Are you completely insane? You think we’re going to believe you? What about everything you’ve done?”

“Everything you know, think you know, and have experienced has been constructed by Albus Dumbledore,” Riddle said.

Harry shook his head. “No, I know what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt, what you’ve done to me! You killed my parents, you possessed Quirrell and Ginny, you killed Cedric and tortured me! You possessed me! That was real!”

Riddle nodded. “Yes, it was real, but it was not me,” he said. “Harry, I have never attacked you, your family, your friends, or Hogwarts.”

Harry dropped his head into his hands, clenching his fingers in his hair tightly, tugging. His brain felt like it was on fire, both from the strain and shock of what he was hearing as well as from the sharp pains repeatedly shooting through his head. Whatever was in his head from the Mind Magic was being pushed beyond its limit.

“You’re telling me Dumbledore did all those things, but made it look like you?” Harry said, head still bowed.

“Yes,” Riddle said and Harry raised his head, glaring.

“How?” Harry snapped angrily.

“This is a long explanation and does get complicated, so I ask you let me finish before responding,” Riddle said.

His jaw clenched, Harry nodded once and crossed his arms over his chest.

“By the time Dumbledore came to me at eleven, I was an angry, bitter, and lonely child. He knew that and decided to begin an experiment that would continue for decades. He wanted to know if I would be strong enough to make the correct decision when pushed in the opposite direction. You see, to him, tragedy and trauma can turn a person Light or Dark, and he enjoys being known as the benevolent man willing to accept and help the outcasts and lost causes. If one fails to be influenced by him to the Light, well, it just means they were doomed, destined for evil, and an unfortunate loss or sacrifice for the ‘greater good’. Except, the ‘greater good’ he’s fought for is one of his own creation.

“Understand, Dumbledore wanted and needed an ultimate evil, a threat for future experiments. He’d thought it would be me because of what I’d done as a child to others at the orphanage. He pretended to try and rehabilitate me, but, in truth, he wanted me to fall. When he realized that was not happening, he made it happen. It was Dumbledore that told me of my ancestry and told me the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. He knew all I’d ever wanted was connection. I just wanted to know where I came from, good or bad, so to learn I came from Salazar Slytherin, I was desperate for more. And so I found the Chamber, but…he’d found it first, long before and had cursed it with a bit of Mind Magic. It was just the sink he’d cursed as he cannot enter the Chamber himself, so when I interacted with it, the magic was released. When I opened the Chamber, the magic took over my mind, emphasizing all negative thoughts and emotions. All of a sudden, I could think of nothing else but all I’d felt growing up in that orphanage before Hogwarts. All I wanted was revenge.”

Riddle paused for a moment, his eyes slightly glazed as he returned to the memories. He looked back at Harry and Snape.

“I searched the Chamber and eventually came upon the Founders’ Library.”

Harry frowned, confused and curious, but said nothing. He added it to his growing list of things to comment on or ask about once the story was done.

“I was drawn to the dark magic texts and I ended up reading about a piece of extremely dark magic.”

“Horcruxes,” Harry interrupted unintentionally. Riddle gave him an odd, almost knowing look, but nodded and continued.

“I was consumed with the concept, suddenly obsessed. I went to Dumbledore to ask for both more information and for help. He gave me neither, only telling me to learn more if I were so interested. I was interested, but I was also frightened. I was not completely under his Mind Magic’s control, and I was afraid why I suddenly felt angry, wanted to do terrible things, and wanted to explore dark magic. So, I went to my favourite professor and treasured friend—”

“Slughorn,” Harry interrupted again.

“Yes. He told me about horcruxes and, after that, he tried to help me back to who I was, but the Mind Magic was too powerful. It was not long before the magic was all I was and I was on the path Dumbledore wanted. I made my first horcrux a few months later by using the Basilisk to kill the girl in the lavatory. Over the months and years, I would create five more through various murders, including that of my father. To the world, Dumbledore named and created the villain of his game: Lord Voldemort.”

Riddle paused again, and Harry could see anger and hurt in the man’s face.

“With an established villain and dark side, Dumbledore advanced his game. He cast Mind Magic over all of Hogwarts so he could have full control. He used Hogwarts’ magic to do so, and it all continued for the next generation.”

Riddle looked at Snape directly.

“He found his key players and, using the Mind Magic to enhance negativity, let it play out. This time, despite emotions not being their own, the players did exactly as he wanted and expected. Despite hardships, the Potters, Longbottoms, Lupin, and a singular Black became loyal to Dumbledore. Sirius Black was a lovely surprise for him, showing that it was possible for someone destined for darkness to choose the Light, to choose him. On the other side, because of hardship, the tragedy and trauma he allowed to happen, Severus Snape turned to the dark, though he later repented, providing Dumbledore with the ultimate piece to control. At least, until you.”

Riddle looked at Harry now. Harry glanced at Snape to see the professor’s face was tight and expressionless, but he could see the pain in the man’s eyes as he comprehended the possible manipulation of his life. He looked back at Riddle to hear his part of the story.

“The world has been told that I murdered the Potters in response to the First Wizarding War and to a prophecy you, Severus, gave me. However, this is not true. The prophecy was a fake. You did bring it to me because we were working together to stop Dumbledore. We had both broken free of his Mind Magic at that point. When you brought me the prophecy, I knew what Dumbledore intended to do, and I went to stop him. I was not strong enough, however. He killed your parents, horrifically injured me, and gave you that scar so that he had a direct connection to you, a way to control you and manipulate your mind. He framed me and Pettigrew and Sirius Black, creating the scenario everyone believes today. He then used this to create the next generation of players, the ones that will end his game, meaning it was time to create his hero.”

The silence was heavy as Riddle paused for the final time.

“His hero would go through what his villain and pawn did so that Dumbledore would be accepted as the wise and caring mentor. The Mind Magic remained in place for light and dark still had to exist in the school. He got his new players: the children of the previous generation of players. A war has been created with the events of the last generation’s round at the center, as the cause. You have been put through things to convince you that all of this is true and that you must fight this war. You are his hero, but all of us are his ultimate sacrifice. However, there is one thing he did not anticipate: the magic failing. In all of his grand plans, he failed to realize that Hogwarts’ magic is not meant to be used for such evil and cannot be used in such amounts without the core intact. He also did not expect such power from this generation. As such, the Mind Magic has had lapses over the last five years and is now failing completely, as is Hogwarts herself.”

“You are the last hero she chose,” Snape said quietly and Harry’s eyes widened, swinging from Snape to Riddle.

“What?” he breathed just before the three of them were briefly overcome with pain tearing through their skulls and then a feeling of warmth.

Harry raised his head once the pain passed and stared hard at Riddle, his mind reeling.

What in the hell had he just heard?

“You can’t be serious,” Harry said, aghast, finally breaking the suffocating silence that had fallen over them. “Are you serious? Do you actually expect us to believe any of that?”

Riddle sighed quietly. “No, I do not expect you to, but I hope you will.”

“It’s insane. You want me to believe that Dumbledore did everything, all the things I’ve gone through? That it was him that killed everyone, killed my parents?” Harry said, angry at the horrible accusations. “Why? Why would he do it? If my parents were loyal to him, why would he kill them?”

“Despite what he portrays to the world, Dumbledore does not care about anyone. He only cares about how they fit into and play the game,” Riddle said. “Your parents were a sacrifice he was willing to make in order to continue the game and create you, his hero.”

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion. “But, it still doesn’t make sense. You gave me the scar. What about our connection? The visions, the pain in the graveyard, the possession at the Ministry? What about your resurrection? You can’t tell me those things didn’t happen. I saw them, I felt them!”

“I can explain all of that,” Riddle said almost gently, as though hoping to keep Harry calm. “You’re right. They did happen, just not how you know.”

Harry glared, but stayed quiet, waiting for the explanation.

“I was in Godric’s Hollow the night your parents died. I went to protect you, but Dumbledore got there first. He gave you that scar and infused it with his magic. It is a link, but between you and Dumbledore, and it is only one-sided. Through it, he can control your thoughts, tamper with memories, implant dreams, and cause pain. Any visions you’ve had were created and implanted by him. He used it at the Ministry to simulate possession. I was at the Ministry, again, to try and protect you. He used one of my horcruxes that day. He temporarily melded it with your magic and it caused you to feel possessed. However, you broke the connection and, in doing so, destroyed the horcrux,” Riddle explained.

“But the graveyard,” Harry argued.

“He used your scar to cause the pain you felt. As for my resurrection, it did not happen. I was never without form. He severely injured me that Halloween, made worse by the fact that he stole all my horcruxes. Without them and with my injuries, it took me years to recover. What you saw in the graveyard was Pettigrew, working for Dumbledore, casting an extremely dark spell on a horcrux, allowing it to take a physical form. Through it, he fought you, but it appeared to be me.”

“But all the Death Eaters…” Harry said, frowning as he remembered the graveyard.

“Projections created by Dumbledore,” Riddle said. “Death Eaters have never existed.”

Harry shot a look at Snape who was also frowning. Snape touched his arm where, under the sleeve, Harry knew the Dark Mark lay.

“Your mark is not mine, Severus,” Riddle said, knowing exactly what they were thinking about. “It is Dumbledore’s brand on you and it works similar to Harry’s scar. Any meetings we’ve had did happen, but you were not serving me, I was not torturing you, and no one else was there. They were us working together to stop Dumbledore as we broke the magic over us. Unfortunately, Dumbledore is adept at knowing when his players are breaking the rules, and he used your mark and the Mind Magic to give you the memories you have.” 

“What about Quirrell?” Harry asked, remembering the terrifying image of the face on the back of the man’s head.

“Dumbledore cursed him,” Riddle said simply. “I was still recovering and in hiding at that time.”

Harry blanched. “So…I killed an actual person?”

Riddle shook his head. “No, Dumbledore killed him, but made it look like you did.”

“And Cedric?”

“Killed by Pettigrew on Dumbledore’s orders.”

“Sirius?” Harry whispered.

Riddle gave him a heartbroken gaze. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry dropped his head into his hands, his fingers threading through his hair and clenching tightly. His eyes burned with tears, his heart pounded painfully in his chest, and his ears started ringing. It couldn’t be true. Dumbledore couldn’t have done all those things, couldn’t have taken his only family from him. He wouldn’t do that! The pain in his head was excruciating.

“I understand how difficult this is but, unfortunately, we are running out of time,” Riddle said. “Whether you believe it is Dumbledore or not, it does not dispute the one thing we all do know: Hogwarts is dying and she’s chosen us to save her.”

Harry’s head snapped up and he glared at Riddle again. “Why would she choose you?” he growled.

“Because the four of us were forced into the same situation as children by Dumbledore and were his biggest pawns. Hogwarts was meant to save us, be our haven, but he took that from us. She’s chosen us to be the ones to fight back, to take back what we lost, what he took,” Riddle said.

“Do you know where the swords are?” Snape asked.

Riddle shook his head. “I do not, but Dumbledore will have hidden them in places significant to him.”

“What are you proposing?” Snape asked.

“We work together,” Riddle said. “We must find and return the swords. However, we can assume they will not be so easy to retrieve even if we find where they have been hidden. We will each have to retrieve a sword, but we need to know which sword belongs to each of us and what protections are on the swords.”

“We’ve been looking for information in the library, but there’s nothing,” Harry said.

“And there wouldn’t be. This kind of information will only be found in the Founders’ Library in the Chamber of Secrets,” Riddle said. “I cannot enter Hogwarts, of course, so I must rely on you. I am asking you to contact and meet with me as information is discovered. We have to do this together or it will not work and Dumbledore will win.”

Harry stared at him, considering the request.

“I must also ask you to learn where Dumbledore has put my horcruxes. I am very weakened without them and will be of no help in a fight,” Riddle added.

Snape suddenly stood. “We must go. We have been absent for too long. Potter.”

Harry nodded and got to his feet as well, pulling out his invisibility cloak.

“Please, consider my request,” Riddle said. “If you agree, write me using this.” He held out a plain, dark grey journal.

Harry hesitated, remembering the diary from second year.

“It is a communication journal,” Riddle said. “We can write back and forth using this. It would be too suspicious to use letters. Please, take it.”

Harry did so slowly.

“Come, Potter,” Snape said and, receiving a nod from Riddle, they hurried from the Bronze Dragon. They rushed back to Hogwarts, hoping their absence wasn’t noticed and their minds spinning out of control.

“We’re supposed to believe that Dumbledore’s behind this?” Ron whispered. “That he’s set up everything?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in a study hall. It was the next day and Harry had just finished retelling Riddle’s story. Once they returned to the school, Harry and Snape had immediately parted ways with Harry scurrying up to Gryffindor Tower with the communication journal and Snape heading to the headmaster’s office to feed Dumbledore the lie about what type of meeting he’d had. It had been far too late and he had been too overwhelmed to get into it all with Ron and Hermione, so he’d promised they’d talk the next day and went to bed. Not that he’d slept much at all. He spent some time examining the communication journal though there wasn’t much to find; it looked like a normal, blank journal with lined pages. After that, he’d spent a long time just staring at Dumbledore’s name on the Marauder’s Map while his brain repeated Riddle’s story over and over. He eventually passed out with the map still open on his lap, but he still only slept for a couple of hours.

After breakfast, they decided to sit in a study hall and pretend to do homework so no one looked at them too strangely for having a whispered conversation. As he’d repeated the story, he still found it completely unbelievable, but he couldn’t ignore the tug he kept feeling in his mind. Some part of the story was pulling at the parts of his mind still hidden away.

“I honestly don’t know what to believe,” Harry said. “It seems impossible that it could all be Dumbledore, but…I saw Voldemort last night and he did not look the same. He was…human. My scar didn’t hurt. He didn’t kill us. That means something. Something we think we know isn’t right.”

“But…Dumbledore?” Ron repeated.

“It could make sense,” Hermione said, gaining surprised looks from both of them. “Everything that’s happened here, that Harry’s had to go through, was brought here by Dumbledore. There’s a lot of coincidences, but maybe they’re not. Maybe he caused all of it.”

“But murder? Turning wizards dark?” Ron said, frowning. “Because, what, he’s bored?”

Hermione shrugged, obviously at the end of her limited understanding and theories.

“Look, whether we believe him or not, there’s one thing we do know: he’s the last hero,” Harry said. “If we want to know anything, we have to fix the school which means we have to find the swords and we have to start Legilimency with Snape.”

“But where? The Room of Requirement isn’t working anymore,” Ron said. They had tried to get into the Room of Requirement the other day. The door had begun to appear, but stopped and disappeared after the castle groaned and the wall cracked dramatically. Clearly Hogwarts’ magic was too weak to sustain the room.

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry said. “There’s one place that no one can get to.”

Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously.

“The Chamber of Secrets,” Harry said. “We’ll be safe there, there’s plenty of space, and no one can watch us. There’s a different magic down there. I don’t think Dumbledore or whoever can get the Mind Magic down there.”

“Well, let’s go check it out,” Ron said.

Glancing around, Harry nodded. They gathered their work into their bags and left the study hall. Harry led them to the second floor and into the girls’ lavatory that housed the concealed entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Are you sure about this?” Hermione asked, sounding nervous.

“This is the only place that’s actually safe,” Harry said, staring at the sink with the signature snake on its faucet.

“Won’t it look strange if people start coming to and from here consistently?” Ron said, raising an eyebrow when Harry turned to look at him.

“I think there might be another entrance,” Harry said. “The place is massive and, whether he was Voldemort or not, Riddle wouldn’t have wanted to be seen either, and I doubt he wanted to slide down every time.”

“Slide?” Hermione repeated, startled, and Harry nodded absently.

“That’ll be one of the first things to do before we start bringing others,” Harry said. “We have to find the other entrance.”

“If there is one,” Ron said pointedly.

Harry sighed and nodded again. “If there is one,” he echoed.

“You said that’s one of the first things to do,” Hermione said. “What else is there?”

“A cave-in and a Basilisk corpse,” Harry said and watched Hermione’s eyes grow wide. He grinned sardonically before turning back to the sink. ‘Open,’ he hissed.

He took a step back, Ron jumped, and Hermione squeaked as the sinks began to move, stone scraping loudly. They watched as the inscribed sink sunk into the floor and stared at the huge, newly revealed tunnel entrance. He stepped up to the edge and gazed down, unable to see anything. Hermione had come to look as well and gasped.

“You want us to jump down there?” she said.

“We did it,” Harry said, shrugging a shoulder. “Just be careful of all the animal bones.”

Grinning at her horrified look again, he jumped into the opening. He kept his arms tucked against his chest and prepared for the landing. He flew out of the tunnel, stumbling across the still bone-covered floor. He just barely managed to stay on his feet. He moved out of the way and turned to watch when he heard screams growing louder, and Hermione and Ron fell out of the tunnel. Hermione shrieked and jumped to her feet when she realized Harry hadn’t been lying and they were standing on a floor of bones.

“Come on,” Harry said, climbing up into the next tunnel. It was just as he remembered with the cold, wet stone, grime-covered floor, and dim lighting. After just a few minutes, they arrived at the part of the tunnel where Lockhart had caused a ceiling collapse. There was a small opening, the one Ron had made that allowed Harry and Ginny to get back through all those years ago. It was far too small for them now, however.

“Ron, help me make the opening bigger,” Harry said.

Ron nodded and they moved to the pile-up. They each started to carefully pull at the jammed rocks, steadily making the opening large enough for all of them to fit through.

“We’ll deal with the rest another time,” Harry said and they continued on, passing the huge snake skin that was still there. They moved fairly quickly through the tunnel until they came to the huge, circular, iron door that sealed the Chamber.

‘Open,’ Harry said again and watched the stone snake slither around the outside of the door, forcing the inner snakes to pull in. The door clicked and swung open ominously. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, and stepped through, his friends behind him. They climbed down the ladder and, for a moment, just stared, Harry remembering and his friends seeing for the first time.

The Chamber itself also looked just as he remembered; the water along the outside, the snake statues lining the path, the extremely high ceiling with its dripping stalactites, and the warm glow of the torches that he knew circled the larger opening with the massive stone head of Salazar Slytherin.

Once they had taken it in, they walked down the path to the large center. Harry glanced at the several paths branching off into more tunnels, remembering running through some to escape the Basilisk. They came to the center and Ron and Hermione gasped loudly. As he expected, the Basilisk was right where it had fallen dead except it was nothing but bone now, having decomposed over the years. His eyes were pulled to a dark spot on the stone, his brain automatically projecting his bleeding and dying twelve-year-old self into the spot. He felt a familiar sharp pull in his head and knew there was something locked away inside his mind about this place and memory. He pushed it aside for now and let his gaze roam around.

“You killed this thing by yourself?” Ron said, gaping at the giant skeleton.

Harry nodded, still just looking around. “Yeah, with Gryffindor’s sword. Got one of its fangs in my arm though.”

Hermione gasped again. “Harry…”

“It’s fine, I lived, obviously. It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, brushing off her concern. “We need to split up, look for another entrance and the Founders' Library. Pick a tunnel and follow it,” he instructed.

Shaking themselves from their horror at what a twelve-year-old Harry went through, Ron and Hermione nodded and they all split up. Harry headed down a tunnel to the left of Slytherin’s statue. There was nothing different about the tunnel compared to the others he had been in before. It was dark and damp, a rat here and there, and some short branches that ended in bars. He continued for a little over five minutes and was about to assume he wouldn’t find anything when the tunnel turned and he saw an odd flickering on the wall up ahead.

He turned the corner and was shocked to see a small, circular room with torches on the walls and a rickety-looking iron spiral staircase. He walked up to the staircase and gazed up. It was a long staircase and he couldn’t see what was at the top so he started climbing. Narrow and steep, he kept a tight hold on the railing and stepped carefully as he went round and round.

He had never been on such a long set of stairs. It took another five or so minutes to ascend and he finally stepped off. Leaving the staircase, he was immediately behind what was obviously a painting or tapestry or something of the like. He pushed the door and peeked around, finding himself in a normal corridor in the school. He stepped out into the corridor, keeping hold of the painting so he could return to the Chamber. He examined the painting and found it to be a huge map. He did his best to memorize it so they could find it from the other side before stepping back into the room behind the map. Thrilled to have actually found another entrance, he retraced his steps and returned to the Chamber. Ron was already there, but Hermione was apparently still searching.

“Anything?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “You?”

“Yeah, actually. There’s an entrance down there, it leads to a huge map painting,” Harry said.

“Brilliant.”

Harry stared up at the face of Slytherin, the large mouth still open. His eyebrows came together slightly as he considered the statue.

“Harry?” Ron said.

“What if there’s something in there?” Harry said, gesturing at the gaping stone.

Ron looked at it as well, frowning. “Isn’t that where the Basilisk came out of?”

Harry nodded. “Which means it must be huge in there. That thing couldn’t have just been living in the pipes.”

“I guess so,” Ron said, unsure.

“I found something!”

They turned to Hermione who was jogging towards them.

“That tunnel has a cave-in, so there could be something on the other side,” she told them.

“Good, we’ll take a look,” Harry said, turning back to Slytherin.

“Is everything alright?” Hermione asked.

“I think we’re about to go inside the mouth,” Ron said.

Hermione’s eyebrows jumped. “Excuse me?”

“I think there’s something in there,” Harry said. “What better place to hide something? No one’s going to think of going into the place a great snake sleeps.”

“Exactly!” Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “There’s no snake now. Come on.”

Harry started towards the head, dropping down into the water that was about mid-shin in depth. He missed the looks his friends shot each other before reluctantly following him. There was a small platform directly under and around the statue, allowing them to get out of the water and to the open mouth. Standing next to each other, the three of them gazed into the mouth. It was nearly pitch black so Harry pulled his wand.

“Lumos,” he muttered and the area lit up, revealing a massive room where he knew the Basilisk used to curl up. There was a huge tunnel off to the right and Harry knew this was one of the ways the Chamber’s tunnels connected to the school’s plumbing.

Harry climbed into the mouth, hoisting himself up and dropping down the couple meters to the floor. He held up his wand to light up the area, spotting more rat bones around the room. He was spinning slowly, but stopped suddenly when a tiny glint at the back of the room caught his eye. He approached where he thought he saw the light and was shocked to see a trapdoor in the floor.

He looked up at his friends who were also surprised, and they instantly pulled it open. They gazed down to see a ladder and a soft, blue glow at the bottom. Without thinking, Harry instantly started down the ladder. He hopped off at the bottom and gaped at the smaller, but still large chamber he was in.

“Oh my!” Hermione gasped.

“Bloody hell,” Ron mumbled.

The room was circular and domed. It was stone, like everything else, but there were thin veins of colour streaking through the walls, almost like a spider web. The red, green, yellow, and blue veins glittered as they crisscrossed and threaded around the room. The domed ceiling looked like stained glass, made of the four colours with gold and silver creating the borders and separating each coloured pane. On the walls were four giant portraits, equally spaced around the room, framed in intricate gold and silver frames. They each depicted a single person in regal attire and a distinctive creature with them. They had all turned their heads to gaze at Harry, Ron, and Hermione curiously.

It was the center of the room that was the most astonishing. In front of each portrait to create a sort of circle in the center of the room were daises. Each was stone carved into a detailed creature that was holding or wrapped around a platform, clearly meant to hold something. In the very center of the room was a statue of a woman, her head facing the ceiling and her hands cupped in front of her. She had been given ringlets pinned behind her head to fall down her back. She wore a saree-like dress and around her neck as a familiar pendant. In her hands was a glowing orb, the source of the soft, blue light. It seemed to have a mist swirling in it. Like the walls, thin veins of colour wrapped around her, up to her necklace, with each ending at a corresponding coloured gem meant to be a part of her pendant. Following the threads down showed them to be connected to deep grooves in the floor that led to each dais, creating a colour circle around each base.

“I think this is it,” Harry said quietly, staring around in awe.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Hogwarts,” Harry said. “This is her core.”

They all gaped, continuing to gaze around dumbly, the portraits of the Founders staring back.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, pointing at the orb the statue held.

“It’s a prophecy,” Harry said, recognizing it as being similar to the prophecies they saw—and subsequently shattered—at the Ministry. He stepped slowly towards the statue and orb.

“Child of Hogwarts, beware,” the portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw said suddenly, making them all jump.

“Only one of four may touch the Prophecy of Hogwarts,” Godric Gryffindor added.

“Only a hero may hear the fate,” Helga Hufflepuff said.

“Step forward if you be a chosen Hero of Hogwarts,” Salazar Slytherin finished and all four stared at Harry more intently.

Despite knowing he was a hero, he still hesitated and swallowed thickly. Taking a deep breath, he looked into the upturned, stone face of Hogwarts, silently asking her not to smite him, and placed a hand on the prophecy.

A power rushed through him and throughout the room, making them all gasp. A mix of voice echoed from the orb and Harry realized it was the four Founders.

‘One to defeat fear…One to discover truth…One to feel love…One to accept life…Each will bear a sword and embody the essence of Hogwarts…Together as one, the Four Heroes of Hogwarts will unite the world against the true Dark Lord…Together as one, the Heroes will defeat the binding darkness and restore Hogwarts to the wonder her creators intended her to be…Together, the Heroes will restore the love and friendship of the Founders lost in time…’

Harry released the prophecy with a cry as the energy coursed through him and pulsed in the room. The pressure built until it was almost suffocating and pressed against the magical barrier in his mind painfully. Eventually the power reached its peak and dissipated, letting Harry draw in a gasping breath. His head was still twinging and he felt a warm stinging sensation wrapping around his right upper forearm near his elbow. He pulled back his sleeve and frowned at the thin black band that now wrapped around his arm.

“Welcome, Hero of Hogwarts,” the four portraits said together. “Find the swords to become one and reclaim Hogwarts.”

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked as she and Ron hurried to his side.

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Do you know who’s done this to the school?” he asked the portraits, looking at each Founder.

“We were all of us deceived,” Slytherin said.

“He was meant to embody all that Hogwarts is,” Hufflepuff said.

“He used Hogwarts to harm her children,” Gryffindor said.

“Our choice of leader was wrong,” Ravenclaw finished.

Harry’s heart beat painfully and he felt a pit form in his stomach, making him ill. “It is him. It’s Dumbledore,” he said in a near whisper as his world spun out of control around him.

Harry glanced into the Library as he passed, seeing Hermione, Luna, and Dean immersed in huge tomes as they searched for information on the swords, Hogwarts’ magic, Mind Magic, and horcruxes. He continued down the tunnel, taking a branching one to look in on Ginny and Dennis relaxing and doing homework. Ginny looked up at him and gave a small smile before returning to her work. He moved on, heading back to the Chamber, but took another branch before getting there. He followed this tunnel for some time until he came upon Neville and Seamus who were carefully moving the rocks blocking the tunnel.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Slow, but we’re getting there,” Seamus said, breathing heavy.

“We think the cave-in goes for a couple of metres so it’ll take longer than expected,” Neville added.

Harry nodded. “That’s okay. We’ve got the other two for now. Keep at it. Just be careful.”

They both gave him a salute, making him chuckle, before they returned to work and Harry headed to the Chamber.

It had been two weeks since he and his friends found Hogwarts’ core and the prophecy. He had gone immediately to Snape to let him know what they found and that Riddle had, indeed, been telling the truth. He’d discovered that Snape had also received a thin black line on his arm, making him assume Malfoy and Riddle had one as well. It was clearly a symbol identifying them as the heroes.

The day after, they had rounded up those they’d met with in the Hog’s Head in the second-floor bathroom. They explained that the Chamber would be their meeting and training place. With everyone’s help, they began to clean up the Chamber and explore more. Harry showed the second entrance he’d found, and they learned it was behind the Map of Argyllshire on the second floor. They removed the Basilisk, clearing the main Chamber for training. While exploring, they managed to find a few rooms and the Founders’ Library, as well as another entrance in the dungeons through the Dark Hall. They cleaned the rooms and set them up for various tasks such as Legilimency and Occlumency sessions with Snape, completing homework, or just resting away from the oppressive Mind Magic. All the others had been told what was going on in order to have their help with research in the Founders’ Library, though they’d left out any mention of Riddle. They were also working on clearing cave-ins in order to discover what lay behind them.

The Chamber had quickly become a kind of sanctuary for them all. While the Mind Magic did not disappear in the Chamber due to its deep hold on all of them and the school, its effects were lessened, allowing them all to relax, think more clearly, and have control of themselves.

They had all made progress with the Legilimency and Occlumency as well. They all had to learn to hide their thoughts so Dumbledore could not find out what they were doing, so they were all learning Occlumency from Snape as well. The Legilimency had allowed all of them to regain at least a couple of lost memories. It was a slow process given how dangerous it was to pull memories through Mind Magic. They had to be sure to find memories and bring them out slowly so as to not activate their magic into thinking the mind had to be protected which would cause comas. Too many memories at once could also cause comas, as well as if the manufactured memories were not given time to be replaced by the real ones. Every time they all met, Snape was able to help retrieve a single memory in one person, sometimes in two.

Harry had been surprised at how well they were all working together. There had been some hesitation from the Gryffindors towards Snape and Malfoy, but once he explained that they were also Heroes, the Gryffindors were very accepting.

He crossed the Chamber, glancing at the head of Slytherin. He went down into the core on occasion to talk to the Founders and to feel the magic of Hogwarts. It was tainted and dim throughout the school, but not down there. In the core, he could still feel its purity and love and power…he could feel Hogwarts, the Founders.

He travelled down a tunnel to the room they had set up for Legilimency and Occlumency. There was a transfigured sofa, chairs, and small tables. On one table shaped like a podium, there was a stack of eleven fairly thick journals of different colours and a Self-Inking Quill. Each journal belonged to one of them and acted as a recording of sessions. They would record a retrieved memory and its tampered counterpart to allow comparison as a way to help the real memory replace the tampered one. They also recorded failed sessions or incomplete sessions, detailing what went wrong, what they had been looking for, how they felt, and any other important details.

He stepped into the room, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched Malfoy write in his journal, talking quietly with Snape. As he watched and thought of the ease that came over all of them in the Chamber, he wondered if this was how it should have been all along. Perhaps there was supposed to be normal disagreement, dislike, and competition rather than the intense hatred they’d all felt and acted upon over the years. How many more friendships could have been made if they’d been allowed? What could Hogwarts have truly been like all these years?

“Potter?”

He blinked and brought himself back. Malfoy had finished his journal and Snape was readying things for Harry’s session.

“Anything today?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head. “Almost, but it became too unstable.”

Harry nodded. “Want to do some training with Ginny?”

“Sure,” Malfoy said and left the room.

Harry turned to Snape. “Can you get all of our memories this way?” he asked, moving to sit in the chair in front of the professor.

“I am uncertain,” Snape said. “Some memories may be too deep, the false memories too engrained.”

“What other options do we have?” Harry asked.

“That is why we are still looking for information on Mind Magic,” Snape said. “Hopefully we can find another solution.”

“Right,” Harry said quietly. A part of him was terrified they’d all be trapped, at least in part, in the Mind Magic. Would they ever truly know who they were, who they were meant to be?

“Are you ready?” Snape asked.

Harry took a few deep breaths and nodded. He watched Snape’s hands come up, one holding his wand. The wand top touched one of his temples while the fingertips touched his other. He took another deep breath and stared directly into Snape’s eyes, indicating he was ready.

“Legilimens,” Snape said quietly and they were pulled into Harry’s mind.

The mind was a mess of blurred images flying around and incomprehensible mumbling. He found the golden thread that was Snape’s spell and followed it as it wound and zipped through his memories, searching for the boundaries of his consciousness. They were interrupted by a memory from his childhood with the Dursleys forcing its way into their path and beginning to play. He frowned. This had been happening often during his sessions though it was more common in Occlumency. He had a hard time pushing the memories aside now, though he wasn’t sure why. He theorized it was because of discovering that Dumbledore had caused it all, had purposely left him there to be abused. He and Snape had discussed the memories and Dursleys in small amounts—the first acknowledgement of the abuse since the day Snape saw his back—but he held back, unwilling to discuss his needless trauma.

He shook his head and forcefully pushed the memory aside just as a little, bruised six-year-old Harry crawled into his cupboard, sobbing.

“Potter,” he heard Snape say.

“No, it’s fine, that’s not why we’re here,” Harry said dismissively. “Let’s go.”

He could feel the professor’s disapproval, but he did, thankfully, let it go, at least for the moment. Snape resumed his search with the spell, Harry following closely. The further they went, the more sporadic the memories became. They also became hazier as they were the things he pushed down, forced himself to forget about. However, mixed in were the snippets he’d been receiving through visions. These visions were bits of memory leaking through the cracks in the wall.

He gazed up at the ‘wall’ that was the mental barrier created by the Mind Magic to conceal his real memories. It didn’t look like a wall, but rather a thick, black cloud with tiny spots of light peeking through. It was through these spots that the visions had happened. They had decided to start there with the weak points, thinking it would be safer than trying to break through fresh spots. It had still proven difficult, however. Harry assumed the Mind Magic had been stronger on him since he was Dumbledore’s special player. They’d only managed to retrieve one memory of his so far. All their other attempts had ended in the wall shaking violently and Harry in severe pain.

He looked at the dull, cloudy, slow-moving memories at the wall.

“Let’s just work with one of the visions today,” he said.

“Very well,” Snape said and the spell wrapped around an image, pulling it up for viewing.

They watched as Snape swept into the Hospital Wing to the twelve-year-old Harry laying in a bed. Snape sat on the bed as Harry carefully pushed himself up to sit. Snape examined his visible injuries, including the bandaged arm where he had been poisoned by the Basilisk.

“How could you have been so reckless?” Snape said to the younger Harry.

“I’m sorry, but we had to save Ginny and we couldn’t find anyone that would help,” Harry said.

“You almost died,” Snape said firmly though his tone was full of concern rather than anger.

“I know,” Harry said quietly, dropping his eyes.

Snape sighed and gently tugged Harry’s uninjured arm to pull the boy against his chest in a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around the man and laid his head against the warm chest.

“I won’t do it again, promise,” Harry mumbled.

Snape’s chest bounced lightly under Harry’s head with his quiet chuckle. “Yes, you will, child, but it is alright.”

“Ah, Harry, glad to see you awake and well,” Dumbledore said as he entered the Hospital Wing. Harry and Snape parted, turning to the headmaster. “Do you feel well enough to come up to my office, my boy?”

“Headmaster, I don’t—” Snape tried to argue.

“Severus, will you send this off to Azkaban for me?” Dumbledore interrupted, holding out an envelope. “I believe it is time Hagrid returned to Hogwarts.”

Snape glanced at Harry before standing and, inclining his head, took the letter. “Of course, Headmaster.” His expression tight in the face of Dumbledore’s smile, Snape left the Hospital Wing.

“Come along, my boy,” Dumbledore said to Harry. “We have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and followed Dumbledore from the infirmary.

Harry winced at the stinging in his skull from the memory and in his heart at the care Snape had shown him. They clearly had a bond back then, but it was erased, likely when he went to Dumbledore’s office. He felt a pit of loss in his stomach.

“Bring up the false memory,” Snape instructed and Harry obeyed, dragging the memory to sit beside the real one. They were nothing alike. In the fake memory, he’d been alone in the Hospital Wing. No one had come to comfort him; he’d been left to deal with what he’d been through on his own.

“Begin to combine them,” Snape said when the fake memory ended with Harry receiving a letter from Dumbledore asking him to go to the headmaster’s office.

He overlaid the real memory onto the false one and made them start playing at the same time. Both memories shimmered as the real one tried to take over and Harry cringed at the growing pressure in his head. He paused the process for a moment when the memories shook violently and the shadowy wall pulsed and grew, slightly touching a leaked memory beside it, threatening to take it back.

“Potter,” Snape said warningly.

Harry took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his mind and magic so they stopped panicking. The memories stopped shaking and he let them continue to play. The pressure in his head continued to increase, threatening to make him stop, but he pushed through, determined to have another memory. Out the corner of his eye, he saw a ripple run through the wall, indicating he was pushing the Mind Magic harder than he should.

“Potter, that’s enough,” Snape said firmly, obviously seeing the change in the wall as well. “Use the journal to finish.”

The memories were still playing and shimmering though the false memory was faded, partially consumed by the real memory. He knew Snape was right, so he nodded and let Snape gently pull them both out of his mind.

He blinked quickly once out and gasped at the painful pulsing in his head. He folded over, his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. He heard Snape get up and open the small drawer he knew held a small stash of potions like Pain Relievers and Anti-Nausea. The sessions took a toll on all of them and it became apparent very quickly that a supply of potions on hand was needed. He felt a touch to his arm and looked up to take the Pain Reliever being offered to him, downing it quickly. He stayed sitting for a few minutes as the potion took effect, releasing a deep breath when the bulk of the pain disappeared.

He sat up and found Snape writing in his journal, encouraging Harry to get up and do the same. He walked up to the podium and pulled his journal out of the stack. He wrote out the fake memory and then the real one, feeling the real one take a stronger hold as he did so. As he finished, he reread the entry, feeling some kind of emotion rise up inside him.

Snape walked up beside him, placing his own journal on top of the pile before gazing down at Harry’s entry. They were quiet, but comfortable.

“What were we to each other?” Harry asked quietly eventually.

“I do not know,” Snape said, “but we will find out.”

“Uh, Harry, Professor?” Dean said, suddenly appearing in the entrance and making them turn around. “We’ve found something about the swords.”

Harry’s stomach leapt at the news. He put his journal away and quickly followed Dean, Snape close behind. As they crossed the Chamber, they interrupted Malfoy and Ginny’s mock duel to have Malfoy join them. They all entered the Founders’ Library and Ron handed Harry a small, thin book, its contents clearly written by hand.

“It seems to be Gryffindor’s personal journal,” Ron told him.

Harry gave his friend a look of shock before looking at the entry Ron had it open to. He read the entry aloud: “'We’ve done it. The swords have a piece of us inside of them to provide Hogwarts with her magic. These will be the source of all magic at Hogwarts and ties the four of us together. However, we know the danger of creating such a core and doing such things to the swords. There will always be threats, people that seek to take Hogwarts’ power for their own or seek to control us. We’ve decided to attach powerful…challenges to our swords, tests anyone must pass in order to possess a sword. If one does not pass, they are unworthy and will be struck down by the sword’s—by our—power. Hogwarts must be protected’.”

Harry lowered the journal and looked around at the others, all of them reviewing what they’d heard.

“So, if we send the wrong person to the wrong sword, they die,” Malfoy said, crossing his arms.

“How do we know who gets which sword?” Harry said. “It can’t be based on house, we’re only Gryffindors and Slytherins.”

“I believe we need to meet with our fourth hero again,” Snape said and Harry nodded.

“We’ll write him,” Harry said before turning back to the others. “We have to leave soon, but let’s do some training.”

“I must return,” Snape said. “Occlude before you leave.”

Everyone promised to and watched the professor leave.

“Get the others and meet in front of Slytherin,” Harry said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

He jogged from the Library and back to the Legilimency room, walking over to another small table with a journal laying open. A variety of handwriting filled the pages, carrying on written conversations. He grabbed the quill and quickly scrawled a message.

We’ve got something on the swords. Need to meet.

He stared at the page, waiting for a response to appear. After about a minute, words in a different hand scratched themselves across the page under his message.

Friday. Same place. Same time.

He put the quill down and returned to his friends in the main Chamber. They spent another half hour together, dueling and practicing new spells and techniques.

Harry slowly pushed open the trapdoor, peeking around from beneath his invisibility cloak. When he determined no one was around, he climbed out of the tunnel, closing the door quietly behind him. He crossed the small storeroom, ignoring the stacks of cases of various alcohols, and peeked through the crack he made in the door. Once again finding the way clear, he slipped silently out of the storeroom. He hurried around the bar and through the tables, pushing his way out of the Three Broomsticks. He blew out a small breath, relieved to have gotten to the village without issue. Snape was supposed to accompany him, but had been called to a meeting with Dumbledore, leaving Harry to meet with Riddle alone despite his better judgement. Even though they had the truth, they were still wary of Riddle, the Mind Magic still hard at work.

He walked down the road, passing the Hog’s Head and the Shrieking Shack. He briefly flashed back to third year, wondering if that night in the Shack had been different in any way. He pushed it from his mind as he entered the Bronze Dragon, removing his cloak. Once again, there were no other patrons aside him Riddle in the far corner, cloaked. He made his way over, sliding into the seat across from Riddle.

“You’re alone,” Riddle said in surprise.

“Snape was called to meet with Dumbledore,” Harry said.

“Does he know?” Riddle asked, concerned.

“We don’t know,” Harry said with a shrug. “If he does, he hasn’t shown it and he didn’t find out from Snape. We’re all doing our best to learn Occlumency, but we’re no masters.”

Riddle nodded, understanding and acknowledging the risks Snape and the students were taking. It was easy for Riddle to be plotting against Dumbledore since he was no longer under the headmaster’s watch at Hogwarts. It wasn’t so for the rest of them. They were actively working against the Mind Magic while still under the headmaster’s unflinching supervision.

“Now, I trust you don’t have much time,” Riddle said.

Harry shook his head. “Probably not, but I’ve got a way to be warned by my friends.” He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a small bracelet. It was a coin-looking pendant on a black string. The pendant was solid gold but had been charmed by Hermione to send and receive messages. She had repeated her coin system from the DA, but made it more efficient and put them on bracelets so they couldn’t be lost. They all now had a way to easily contact each other when needed.

“Good,” Riddle said. “What have you found?”

“There are spells on the swords, spells to test whoever tries to get each sword,” Harry said, diving right into the explanation. “But, if the wrong person tries to get the wrong sword, they’ll be killed.”

“So, we have to be sure about who is the wielder of each sword,” Riddle said and Harry nodded. “Have you found anything else that could tell us who each sword belongs to?”

Harry didn’t respond immediately, a large part of him still bound by the Mind Magic to distrust Riddle. Due to that, he hadn’t yet told Riddle about the prophecy found in the depths of the Chamber. He took a minute to consider if he should reveal it now. He eventually took a breath with his decision.

“We found the source of Hogwarts, the place where the swords are meant to lay,” Harry said, watching Riddle’s eyes grow wide. “There we found a prophecy telling of the Four Heroes of Hogwarts prevailing over the true Dark Lord. It mentions the swords.”

“What does it say?”

“One to defeat fear, one to discover truth, one to feel love, and one to accept life,” Harry recited, choosing to only repeat the beginning.

Riddle remained quiet, ruminating on the prophecy. “Do you believe the prophecy to be real?”

Harry nodded.

“Clearly each of us is connected to a sword through those things mentioned,” Riddle said. “Each of us has something to face, something to defeat within us that connects us with a sword.”

“How do we know which test is for who?” Harry said.

“I believe it will be related to what Dumbledore has done to each of us,” Riddle said and Harry looked at him curiously. “Through everything he has done and forced each of us to go through, he took something from us. I believe we must figure out what we lost and that will tell us which test we must each complete.”

“But how do we know which test belongs to each sword?”

“The characteristics of the Founders and their houses.”

Harry was about to speak when his bracelet grew warm and he looked at the pendant.

Trouble.

“I have to go,” Harry said and he raced from the Bronze Dragon before Riddle could say anything. He ran up to the castle, slipping through the front entrance. He didn’t have to go searching for the trouble as the Entrance Hall was filled with students all crowding around the Great Hall, trying to see inside. He pushed his way through the students and gaped as he saw what was happening. The banners that hung from the ceiling were burning brightly, but only the Gryffindor ones. As he watched the fire, Dumbledore rushed into the Hall to put them out.

His eyes narrowed, knowing it had to have been Dumbledore’s doing. He could feel the heavy anger around him and the chatter was getting louder. The students were beginning to fight, Gryffindors blaming the Slytherins for burning the banners. While it very well may have been true, Harry was certain the culprits had been driven to it by the Mind Magic. He could feel it around them, stronger than it had been in days. Dumbledore must be suspicious and had increased the magic to reignite the hate in the school.

“Students, please, calm yourselves!” Dumbledore called out once he had the fires extinguished. Everyone quieted down, but the heaviness was still there. “An unfortunate accident here tonight, but nothing more. Please, return to your common rooms.”

There was angry muttering, but the crowd did begin to head away from the Great Hall. Harry moved away from the door, stepping to the side slightly to watch Dumbledore come out of the Hall. He stared at the headmaster, but was distracted when all the torches flickered out for a moment, drenching the Entrance Hall in darkness. Upon the return of the light, the castle groaned loudly and shook. He jumped and there were gasps and screams as a deafening sound of shattering glass echoed out. Harry spun to see the hourglasses filled with coloured gems tracking the house points had broken. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were covered in thin cracks that threaded all over their surfaces. Gryffindor had the same cracks as well as a hole near the bottom, allowing some rubies to pour out. Slytherin was completely shattered, its entre left side open, leaving glass and emeralds strewn across the floor.

Harry’s heart pounded, knowing this was a product of Dumbledore draining more of Hogwarts’ magic to increase the Mind Magic. He turned back around and hardened his gaze as he met the cold, blue eyes of the headmaster.

“Would you care to tell me where you had been last night, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, holding Harry’s gaze.

Harry sat stiffly. He’d received a summons from the headmaster the next day, requesting a private meeting to continue their Voldemort lessons. Harry’s immediate reaction was to ignore the letter given what he now knew about the headmaster, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t make it obvious that he knew anything and he needed Dumbledore to find Riddle’s horcruxes. He knew what the horcruxes were, Riddle had told him, but Dumbledore had them hidden somewhere. He only knew of two, the diary and the ring, and they were in Dumbledore’s office, but they were destroyed and useless to Riddle. So, he resolved to act like nothing had changed.

“I’m sorry, sir, I just went for a walk around the lake. I needed a break from all the…tension in the school,” Harry said calmly. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “However, I don’t think I need to impress upon you the danger that threatens you, even here.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, keeping his face blank despite how badly he wanted to react.

“I cannot have you wandering outside these walls, do you understand?” Dumbledore said, staring at Harry sternly.

Harry held his tongue against what he truly wanted to say and just nodded. They held each other’s gaze and Harry frowned minutely when he felt a prodding in his mind. He realized the headmaster was using Legilimency on him and instantly did what Snape had been teaching him. He pretended he hadn’t noticed anything and let simple, unimportant memories float around his mind, occasionally allowing a semi-important one of him discussing the war with Ron and Hermione pass by. He sat stoically as Dumbledore searched, inwardly relieved when the man eventually retreated.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said, shifting the heavy atmosphere. “Now, have you had any success with our Professor Slughorn?”

“Unfortunately, no, I haven’t, sir. He dismisses me anytime I mention Riddle,” Harry said, realizing he’d have to come up with something to keep Dumbledore appeased and from knowing he knew the truth.

Dumbledore frowned. “Well, I must admit, I am disappointed.”

Harry felt a twist in his stomach, making him feel guilty for disappointing the headmaster. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You understand the importance of this task?” Dumbledore said, his serious tone back. “We cannot win this war without it. You must not fail.”

“Yes, sir. I promise I’ll get it,” Harry said and Dumbledore smiled.

“Excellent. I have faith in you, my boy,” the headmaster said and, again, Harry forced himself to not react. “Now, to the real reason I asked you here this evening. I have another memory I wish for you to see.”

Harry sat up straighter, interested. What else could he learn and how would it fit into both Dumbledore’s lie and the truth?

He walked over to the Pensieve at Dumbledore’s gesture and watched the memory fall into the basin.

“In this memory, we see Tom pursue his collecting obsession and how far he was willing to go to get what he desired,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded and entered the Pensieve, landing outside a large, stone house with a blue door and perfectly manicured window planters. He was standing next to a young man who wore clean, smart robes, making him look quite professional. He held a bouquet of wildflowers and adjusted his tie before knocking on the door.

The door opened to reveal a short, overweight woman with her hair in a beehive and thick, overly large round glasses. Her dress was a glittery red to match her garish eye makeup, and she held a black, feathered boa around her shoulders. Her eyes lit up when she recognized Tom at her door.

“Oh, Tom, you’re back,” the woman said in a high voice. “Mr. Burke can’t stay away, can he?”

Tom smiled and held out the bouquet. “Of course he can’t, but you know that is not the only reason I visit, my dear Hepzibah,” he said in a smooth voice.

Hepzibah blushed and giggled, taking the bouquet. “Oh, Tom, you’re such a charmer,” she said, batting her eyes at him as he inclined his head. “Come on in. I’ve got some special treasures to show you today.”

Harry followed Tom as he entered the house. They were assaulted by floral pattern and trinkets covering every surface. Tom sat on the sofa as invited and Hepzibah sat in the adjacent chair.

“Hokey,” Hepzibah called and a house elf popped into the room. “Put these in the vase and bring the tea.”

The house elf nodded and took the bouquet, putting it in an empty vase on top of a cabinet before disappearing again. A few seconds later, the house elf reappeared, setting a full tea tray on the coffee table.

“How is Borgin and Burke’s treating you, Tom?” Hepzibah asked, preparing an overly sweet cup of tea for herself.

“It is fine,” Tom said. “Tedious, perhaps, at times, but it does allow me to travel and meet such wonderful people, like yourself.”

Hepzibah giggled again at Tom’s flattery. “You certainly make Mr. Burke’s harassment bearable, such a lovely young man, you are.”

Tom smiled at her and Harry was sure she was seconds from passing out at his attention.

“You know, I know you are here on shop business, but I think I have something you may be interested in yourself,” Hepzibah said, giving Tom a sly look over her cup.

“You do?” Tom said, raising an eyebrow in interest.

“Hokey!” Hepzibah called out again and the house elf returned with a pop. “Bring the boxes from the chest. You know the one.”

Inclining their head, the house elf disappeared but reappeared a second later, holding a couple of small boxes. Hepzibah took them and Hokey stood off to the side.

“Now, you must keep these secret from Mr. Burke. These are not for sale and never will be,” Hepzibah said, taking the larger of the two boxes and holding it in her lap as she waited for Tom’s promise.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Tom said, leaning towards her.

Smiling, she pulled the lid off the box, revealing a small, golden goblet sat in its cut-out in the velvet bedding. Harry spotted the golden badger engraved on the front of the goblet and he knew exactly what it was from Riddle telling him.

“Is that—” Tom trailed off, flicking his gaze away from the goblet and back to Hepzibah.

“The very one,” Hepzibah said. “The goblet that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.”

“Quite the treasure,” Tom said, his tone shifting slightly and a glint temporarily appearing in his eye.

“Yes, it is. One of my most prized possessions,” Hepzibah said, admiring the goblet. “Mr. Burke has been after me to sell it to him for years, but this is one treasure I will not part with.”

“Understandable. Such a piece is priceless,” Tom said and Hepzibah nodded, closing the box and setting it aside.

“I knew you would understand,” Hepzibah said as she picked up the smaller box in her lap. “As special as that was, I know this is one that you will really appreciate.” She gave him an almost mischievous smile as she held out the box and pulled back the lid.

Harry and Tom both leaned forward to examine the locket of Salazar Slytherin. It was just as Riddle had described: a kind of antique gold oval shape with an amber glass front over a snake engraving on a silver chain. The glint had returned to Tom’s eye as he stared intently at the locket. Harry could see his deep desire for both items, but more so for the personal item of Slytherin himself. He could see it in the dark brown eyes that Tom would do anything to have these special items.

Glancing back at Hepzibah, she had clearly noticed the change in Tom for her smile faltered and she pulled the locket closer to herself and away from Tom. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and closed the box when Tom’s stare only turned more obsessive. She gathered the goblet’s box and handed them to Hokey.

“Return these, please, Hokey,” Hepzibah commanded and the house elf disappeared to obey. “I hope you enjoyed that. I got that locket from Mr. Burke, you know. He said some homeless woman sold it to him years ago. Likely stolen, he told me.”

Tom’s expression didn’t change. He just moved his hard stare to Hepzibah. She coughed lightly and her eyes darted around, obviously still uncomfortable with the change in Tom’s demeanor.

“Well, I do truly love your visits, Tom, but I do not believe I have anything for Mr. Burke today,” Hepzibah said, clearly trying to encourage Tom to end the visit and leave.

She gasped when Tom suddenly rose to his feet and pulled his wand. Before she could say anything, a familiar green light struck her in the chest and, a moment later, the memory went dark. He was ejected from the Pensieve with Dumbledore.

He had a lot of pretending to do. He had to act like he had no idea what the items were or what Riddle had done to them. He had to pretend and hope he could learn where they were now.

He sat across from the headmaster for their post-viewing discussion.

“That memory was that of Hokey, the house elf who would ultimately be blamed for the murder of her master, Hepzibah Smith,” Dumbledore said, leaning on his desk.

“So, it was Tom? But why would he kill her?” Harry asked, feigning confusion.

“Tom had decided to pursue some legendary items to add to his collection,” Dumbledore said.

“The goblet and the locket?” Harry said, keeping up his feigned ignorance. Dumbledore nodded. “So, they were real? Actual heirlooms of the Founders?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “I hope you will come to understand the importance of the items Tom chose to collect in time.”

“Why did he want them to begin with? What did he do with them?” Harry asked.

“That, I believe, will be explained upon your retrieval of Professor Slughorn’s memory,” Dumbledore said.

Harry bristled internally, silently frustrated with the man’s secrets and willful withholding of crucial information. It was like Riddle had told them; Dumbledore gave up information only when he wanted to progress his game. It truly had nothing to do with what any of them needed to know. It was all about how Dumbledore could manipulate them to play their roles according to his ideal rules.

“I understand, sir,” Harry said, keeping his bitterness and anger inside. “Do you know where they are now, the goblet and locket?”

“I have been searching, but, unfortunately, I have been unsuccessful thus far,” Dumbledore said and Harry sighed, unable to tell if the man was lying or not. “I believe that is enough for today. Continue to pursue Professor Slughorn and do not do anymore nighttime wandering.”

Harry couldn’t help the slight narrowing of his eyes, but erased the expression as quick as he could. “Yes, sir. Good night.”

“So, the test is related to the traits of each house?” Hermione said.

“That’s what Riddle said,” Harry said with a shrug.

He, Ron, and Hermione were in the Founders’ Library, escaping the revitalized hatred that filled the school once again. It had been a few days since his meeting with Riddle, the burning of the Gryffindor banners, and the shattering of the hourglasses. Any settling emotions had disappeared and everyone had resumed fighting, verbally and physically, every other day, just like the beginning of the year. They hadn’t been able to escape to the Chamber since that day as tensions had returned against Snape and Malfoy, and Harry was acutely aware that Dumbledore was watching them all closely. The man was suspicious of them, making them have to lay low and be overly careful.

The three of them had finally managed to sneak into the Chamber using the Map of Argyllshire entrance. They’d sent a message to the others using the bracelets to stay away from the Chamber for a while and to keep up their Occlumency when around Dumbledore. They couldn’t risk the headmaster finding out about what they knew and were doing.

So, the three of them were on their own, at least for a little while.

“But, like you said, you can’t match with a sword based on your house,” Ron said from where he sat sideways on an armchair, his legs bouncing over the arm. “You’re Gryffindor and the others are Slytherin, and I doubt any of them had the Sorting Hat try to put them in another house like you.”

“We need to know which test belongs to which sword first,” Harry pointed out. “Then we can match heroes with swords.”

Hermione pulled out a blank piece of parchment, ready to take some notes. “What did the prophecy say again, about the tests?”

“Defeat fear, find truth, feel love, and accept life,” Harry said easily, the prophecy’s words burned into his memory.

Hermione scribbled down what he had said, but didn’t stop there. She wrote down several other things before spinning the page around. Harry quickly scanned the page and realized she’d written the traits associated with each of the four houses.

“One of them at least is very obvious,” Hermione said, pointing at ‘defeat fear’. “Gryffindor is all about bravery so his sword’s test must be about defeating fear.”

“Makes sense,” Ron said, “but what about the others? None of them mention being a backstabbing snake.”

Hermione glared at him while Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew the Mind Magic had spiked in Ron to cause the comment.

Ron seemed to realize the same thing and dropped his eyes sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“The others are more complicated and harder to match to the prophecy,” Hermione acknowledged.

Harry studied the traits and the prophecy’s words. “The truth one could be Ravenclaw,” he said. “Truth is a form of knowledge.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. They studied the remaining traits, trying to determine which test matched with Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

“Well, Hufflepuff mentions compassion,” Ron said after several minutes. “It’s kind of like love.”

“Which leaves ‘accept life’ for Slytherin,” Harry said. “I think it’s the only match-ups that make sense.”

“Alright, so we know what kind of test each sword has, sort of, but now who goes after which one?” Ron said, returning to his sideways position in his chair.

“Riddle said it has to do with what Dumbledore’s done to us and taken from us,” Harry said.

“Can’t we just guess?” Ron said. “Or maybe you can all get all the swords and it doesn’t matter.”

Harry shook his head. “No, it matters, and if we’re wrong, then someone dies. Gryffindor’s journal said they could be controlled through their swords, so they had to be sure only trustworthy people could get to the swords.”

“Then how did Dumbledore become headmaster?” Ron scoffed.

“He fooled them, fooled Hogwarts. Even the Ministry,” Harry said with a sigh. “He’s good. He’s gotten away with it all these years, since Riddle.” He felt some anger rise in him, but he knew this was his own and not the Mind Magic. He couldn’t believe Dumbledore had been the true villain all this time, had caused him so much pain and manipulated the way he felt for a game.

“Are any of these specific to you?” Hermione asked, pointing at the words of the prophecy.

Harry shook his head again, leaning his forearms on his knees and linking his fingers together. “He took all of them from me and has caused me to be afraid. It’s likely the same for all of us.”

“I think the four of you need to meet and talk about this,” Hermione said. “You need to compare what Dumbledore’s done to you.”

Harry looked at her and sighed, nodding. He knew she was right, but how was he, Snape, and Malfoy supposed to get out of the castle at the same time without Dumbledore noticing?

“Come on, we should go,” Hermione said.

Agreeing, they all got to their feet and began to leave. They stopped at a podium by the opening to the Library where the Marauder’s Map lay open. Harry had decided they needed to know who was around the three entrances they had to the Chamber, especially when they were leaving, so he’d finally decided to bring the Map down so they could track.

“Hey, what’s that?” Ron asked, lifting the flap that covered Gryffindor Tower. It was still blurred and wavy. The same effect that had been over the Chamber had disappeared, but it was still on the Tower.

“I’ve no idea,” Harry said, shrugging. “It’s been like that for a while.”

Ron just hummed and dropped the flap. They determined the second floor was clear and left the Chamber.

Harry wrapped his cloak around himself as the chilly winter wind blew through the Astronomy Tower, whipping around him. He gazed up at the full moon, his thoughts travelling to Lupin and then to Sirius. He sighed sadly and his chest ached at the thought of his godfather. He was the reason he’d snuck up to the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night despite Dumbledore’s warning to stop wandering. Ever since learning the truth about Dumbledore’s role in everything, he’d been bombarded with nightmares about everything he’d been through, from Halloween to the Dursleys to Sirius’ death. He was struggling to accept that it had all been arranged by Dumbledore. He couldn’t decide if that made things more his fault or not.

A tear escaped and fell down his cheek, but he ignored it, letting it dry by the nighttime breeze.

He felt lost and alone. Sure, he had his friends, the others involved in training, even the other heroes, but he didn’t know what to trust anymore. He didn’t know what was real, if anything was at all. What if even his friendship with Ron and Hermione wasn’t real, was just a part of the Mind Magic? How did he know who he really was? Would he ever know?

He spun his head around when he heard a footstep, gripping his wand tightly. His eyes found Malfoy step out of the dark, his hands raised with his palms out.

Harry forced the Mind Magic’s anger down, recognizing the sudden spike the moment he saw a supposed ‘enemy’.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, relaxing his hold on his wand.

Malfoy walked over to stand across from Harry. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall making up the archway. He stared out at the dark grounds, the wind ruffling his blonde hair and pajamas.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Malfoy said shortly. “Visions…memories…whatever they are.”

Harry nodded, understanding, but said nothing, looking back out at the grounds himself.

“You?”

Harry glanced at the Slytherin, but the other boy wasn’t looking at him. “Nightmare,” he said, just as shortly.

Malfoy nodded, but didn’t respond. They fell into a silence, gazing into the dark. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about having Malfoy there, his real emotions and his Mind Magic emotions warring with each other.

“Are you mad?” Malfoy said suddenly and Harry looked at him with a frown.

“About what?”

“Everything. Dumbledore, what he’s done to you.”

“I mean, he’s murdered or made me forget nearly everyone I’ve ever cared about, so yeah, I’m mad.”

“Did he make you think things were your fault or that bad things were alright?”

Both Cedric and Sirius flashed before his eyes followed by his uncle. “Yeah, he did.”

“How do you know he did it, that it’s not true?”

“I don’t.”

“So, it could be true?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Could be. Depends what it is, I suppose.”

Malfoy was silent for a time. “My father.”

Harry gazed at the blonde steadily. “What about him?”

“He’s got a way about him to make sure I learn what he wants me to.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at the blonde’s vagueness. He was left to decipher what Malfoy could be talking about when no more comments or information was forthcoming. It was a vague comment, but he couldn’t help his mind from thinking about his uncle. It’s the kind of thing he would say if asked about a bruise or his life in Privet Drive. His stare turned curious.

“Your father,” he started carefully, “does he…”

Malfoy looked at him sharply, the grey eyes narrowed, but Harry was sure he could see something behind the glare. He knew it to be in his own eyes, too, because he’d spent his life hiding it, just like Malfoy was.

Suddenly he was seeing a younger him sitting beside a younger Malfoy in the same place they currently were. A few tears were falling silently down Malfoy’s face as he stared out at the horizon. Harry could just make out light bruising on the blonde’s left cheek.

“I understand, you know,” Harry said and Malfoy sneered.

“What do you know?”

“Exactly what you’re feeling.”

Malfoy turned to look at him with a frown.

“I’ve never told anyone either.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and the vision ended.

Harry met the older grey eyes in front of him. “I’ve never told anyone either,” he repeated.

Just like in the vision, Malfoy’s eyes widened with all kinds of emotions before narrowing into a glare again.

“What the hell do you know, Potter?” Malfoy snapped before storming from the Tower.

Harry blinked as his mind replayed the interaction and the vision. He thought about the things Riddle had implied about what Dumbledore had done to the four of them to create his key players. They had all gone through a similar trauma, had all been subjected to a similar life. He stared in the direction Malfoy had gone.

Had Dumbledore forced them all to stay in abusive homes?

Harry tried to ignore the fact that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he led the way through the tunnel, his companions silent and tense behind him. Knowing how closely Dumbledore was watching them made their excursions, especially together, extremely risky. However, it was necessary. It was about time all four of them met together and worked together.

He lifted the trapdoor like last time and made sure the pub was empty before climbing out. He held it open as Snape and Malfoy followed.

Taking the secret passage he had cleared seemed to be the only way to get all three of them out of the castle. He would have taken the Honeydukes passage, but it had been sealed with magic, presumably by the headmaster. The Three Broomsticks passage, however, had always been caved in since his parents’ time and he knew Dumbledore didn’t watch it because of that fact; at least, he hoped.

They all swept out of the pub and down the road to the Bronze Dragon, slipping inside. Finding Riddle to be the only patron just like the other times, they walked over to his corner. Harry and Malfoy slid into the chairs already there while Snape dragged one over from another table. Once settled, they all looked up and met each other’s eyes.

The moment their gazes connected, all four of them were awash with intense power, its pressure pushing on their chests and a warmth filling their bodies. The pressure was becoming suffocating when it and the warmth finally subsided, leaving them gasping and with a stinging tingle on their right upper forearms. They all pulled back their sleeves to discover a thin gold line and silver line had appeared on either side of the black line they all already had. They glanced at each other. Something about the four heroes coming together for the first time had caused the new lines to appear.

Harry shoved his sleeve down. The tattoo wasn’t important. “We have very little time, so let’s get into this. We know which tests goes with which sword, but we don’t know which sword we each have to go after, and, if we’re wrong, someone will die.”

“It will be based on what Dumbledore has done to each of us and taken from each of us,” Riddle said.

“Yeah, that’s what you said, but he did the same thing to all of us, took the same things from all of us,” Harry argued.

“That is true, but we each have one thing that he focused on for each of us,” Riddle said, making the others frown in confusion. “He needed there to be one thing that we yearned for so much we would do anything.”

None of the others responded, unsure they understood.

“When I became his first target of Mind Magic, I became obsessed with the Dark Arts, in particular, the value of life as it related,” Riddle explained. “I no longer cared about the life of others, only my own. I felt I’d had a meaningless life and I grew desperate to change that. So, I made horcruxes, to both extend my life and to tie it to objects I deemed important. I didn’t want to leave behind nothing, so I prevented death from being an option. I refused to accept my life for what it was, so I became immortal to create a life I could accept. Only, I broke the Mind Magic and came to realize this life I had created at his hand was even more shameful than the life I came from.”

“So, your sword is the Sword of Slytherin,” Harry said. “Your test will be to accept life.”

Riddle inclined his head. “In whatever manner that ends up being.”

“What about the others?” Malfoy asked, skeptical.

Riddle looked at him. “You have some…issues in regards to your father and your upbringing.”

Malfoy frowned. “Don’t we all?”

“Yes, but you have grown up being taught to think and believe one way, and that everything related to how he has taught you these things is right and acceptable,” Riddle said.

Harry looked at the boy, remembering their strange conversation in the Astronomy Tower a few nights before. Malfoy was still frowning and staring steadily at Riddle, but seemed to have stiffened, coming to understand what Riddle was saying.

“You must learn the truth about your father and yourself,” Riddle said.

“Ravenclaw’s sword is about discovering truth,” Harry said.

Riddle nodded. “And Ravenclaw’s sword belongs to Draco.” He turned his gaze on Snape. “I am surprised you have not guessed at which sword is yours.”

“I have, but I do not believe it is accurate,” Snape said guardedly.

Harry thought about the remaining swords and their tests: Hufflepuff’s and feeling love, and Gryffindor’s and defeating fear.

“No?” Riddle said lightly as though surprised. “You have lacked love your whole life because of Dumbledore. He left you with unloving parents, took away your only friend, took away the boys you came to claim as your own, and convinced you that not only would loving anyone put you in danger, but also that no one could ever love you because of the things you’ve done.”

Harry glanced at Snape. The professor’s face was tight and some emotion was flashing in his dark eyes. He felt a tug in his head as Riddle spoke, but ignored it and returned his gaze to Riddle.

“Hufflepuff’s sword belongs to you,” Riddle said before letting his eyes travel to meet Harry’s. “Which, fittingly, leaves you with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

His test was to ‘defeat fear’? What did that even mean? He was reminded of Lupin’s observation after the Boggart that what Harry feared was fear itself. He’d never truly understood and, quite frankly, he still didn’t even all these years later.

“What is the one thing you have never felt in your life?” Riddle asked.

Still staring into the brown eyes across from him, Harry replayed every emotion he’d ever felt in his sixteen years. “Safe,” he finally admitted, both out loud and to himself. He felt an ache in his heart at the acknowledgement.

Riddle nodded, his face gentle. “Whether you were aware or not, you have always been afraid because you have always been in danger with no one to truly help you. Due to this, you have also become afraid of the fear you feel, afraid of what happens and how you feel when you are afraid.”

Harry frowned at him.

“Alone,” Riddle said and Harry felt a jolt in his heart at the truth of what Riddle was saying. “You feel alone which you fear above all else and that is what Dumbledore has made sure you are so that you would do anything he wanted in order to not feel so alone.”

They fell silent in the face of their trauma, trauma caused by Dumbledore to make them who they were.

The tattoo on their arms pulsed as they accepted the discovery of who would wield each sword.

“Hey, listen to this,” Ron said, sitting up and getting Harry and Hermione’s attention. “’Very often, if Mind Magic has been used consistently for an extended period of time, real memories become trapped behind the magic. Legilimency can be used, but it is dangerous and can take years. Due to this, a more efficient method of retrieving memories lost to Mind Magic was created. Inaccurately named as it has nothing to do with dreaming, ‘Dream Chasing’ can be used to retrieve memories. Because memories are hidden in the unconscious by Mind Magic, it is vital that the method of retrieval also accesses the unconscious. Dream Chasing puts one into an unconscious state and allows them to travel past the boundary between conscious and unconscious. There they can move through any hidden memories. Though they are not dreams, the mind thinks they are and so does not alert the magic to protective needs. Believing the memories to be dreams also allows for a smoother replacement of the falsified memories. While risk of overload and coma is still present, it is a lower risk and can be nearly nullified if completing the process with a trusted person as they can assist with confusion, assimilation, and magic spikes. Note, Dream Chasing can also be used to identify and interact with magical connections’.”

“So, there is a safer way,” Hermione said.

Ron nodded. “It seems complicated though. There’s a potion and a spell.”

Hermione reached for the book and Ron handed it to her. She scanned the potion and spell, her mouth turning into a serious frown.

“This is far too advanced, even for me,” she said.

“What about Snape?” Ron suggested.

“The potion, absolutely, and likely the spell as well, but we have to have complete trust in him and we can’t do it to him, so he would be unable to do this himself,” Hermione said.

“We might be somewhat cloudy from the Mind Magic still, but I think even I’ve got some trust in the guy by now,” Ron said. “He’s already been inside my head a dozen times.”

“Even so, none of us could perform the spell successfully on him,” Hermione said. “We can’t expect him to do this for us with nothing in return.”

“I say we ask him,” Ron said with a shrug.

“He would probably still help us. He already has been,” Harry said. “Does it say how it can be used for magical connections?”

Hermione shook her head.

“You think you could use it on your scar?” Ron asked and Harry nodded.

“I need Dumbledore out of my head,” Harry said. “One of us needs to learn the spell. We have to break Dumbledore’s connection to Snape too.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Hermione said. “It’s extremely complex, not something many wizards could ever do.”

“We have to try,” Harry said. “He’s a hero. We can’t just leave him under Dumbledore’s control. Who knows what he’d do to Snape.”

Neither Ron or Hermione could respond as their bracelets suddenly grew warm. Looking at the pendant, they saw a message.

Meet ASAP. Emergency.

The three of them looked at each other in concern, wondering what was going on. It wasn’t long before they heard footsteps echoing in the tunnels and they dashed out to meet the others in the main Chamber. Ginny, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Dennis hurried towards them from the various entrances. They all looked confused except for Seamus.

Something had happened.

“We have a problem,” Seamus said. “Dean was called to see Dumbledore and now he’s in the Hospital Wing. He’s in a coma.”

Some of them gasped and the others stared with wide eyes.

“What happened?” Neville asked.

Seamus shrugged helplessly, shaking his head.

“He used Legilimency on me the other day,” Harry said. “I stopped him from seeing anything, but maybe Dean couldn’t.”

They were all quiet as they considered what the headmaster could have done to Dean, was likely willing to do to all of them to keep control.

“We need to find the swords,” Harry said. “He’ll end up killing someone.”

“But we have no clue where any of them are. It’s not something we can find in a book,” Hermione said, frustrated that her books were failing her.

“They’ll be in places that are important to him,” Harry said.

“But we don’t even know him,” Ginny pointed out. “How are we supposed to know what matters to him?”

“The game is what matters to him,” Harry said.

“The four of you matter to him,” Luna said. “As his players, you matter.”

“So, things that happened to you,” Neville said.

“Places that matter to you?” Ron suggested.

“The only place that’s mattered to all of us is Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“I can bet one of the swords is still here in the castle,” Ginny said. “He would’ve needed one to keep Hogwarts’ magic as stable as he has for so long.”

“This is also the game board, so to speak,” Luna said. “It’s important to all of you and him.”

“But, which one and where?” Harry asked.

“They’re right,” Ron said, his tone full of realization. “There’s been one here the whole time. You used it once.”

“Gryffindor’s sword,” Harry said, understanding Ron’s tone and Ron nodded. “But, Hogwarts said he hid it. How do we find where he put it?”

“Something has to be different somewhere,” Seamus said.

“That kind of power, we’d have to be able to feel it,” Neville said.

“She’s weak, though, so probably not anymore,” Luna said.

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, frustrated and desperate. He wanted Snape and Malfoy there to help. They could always think more clearly and logically. He knew Snape was teaching, but wondered where Malfoy was. He knew the Slytherin had a free period after lunch on Thursdays like he did. He spun around to stare up at Salazar Slytherin watching over them.

Dumbledore couldn’t know who Hogwarts’ four heroes were. If he knew about the heroes at all, he may have become suspicious after Gryffindor’s sword came to Harry in second year. He likely hid it immediately after that, but where would he have put it? Somewhere that meant something to him, but no one would think to look. He wasn’t sure anything would look different like Seamus said. It would be too obvious. So, how would he know where Dumbledore chose?

He dropped his hand from his hair as thoughts dawned on him. He remembered Dumbledore coming to talk to him in Gryffindor Tower after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. He’d admitted to hating the Gryffindor bed curtains and setting them on fire as a student.  He also remembered Dumbledore commenting on the garish, but comforting décor of the Gryffindor common room, mentioning the secrets he’d tried to find as a student. His eyes had travelled all over, but he remembered them lingering for just a second more on a large painting of a knight.

Then he remembered the Marauder’s Map, the weird look Gryffindor Tower had developed. The map wasn’t broken; it was a message from Hogwarts, using the little magic she had left.

He turned back to his friends.

“It’s in Gryffindor common room.”

“You think you can turn your back on us and your father? After everything he’s done for you?”

Draco held the door to the empty classroom closed with his body, closing his eyes as it rattled against his back. Zabini, Nott, and the Carrows were determined to get at him for his betrayal. None of them seemed to be affected by the fluctuating Mind Magic, and, from what he remembered growing up, none of them needed a Dark Lord to worship to psychopathic. After all, it wasn’t until they were in Hogwarts that Voldemort even became a part of the conversation. His father might not have been a Death Eater as they didn’t exist, but he was still a violent, pureblood-obsessed bastard that tried to brainwash him into believing the same thing.

He hadn’t meant to make the Slytherins aware of his changing mind, but he couldn’t hold back when they started speaking reverently about Lucius Malfoy, praising his ability to keep his bloodline pure. If only they knew the number of Muggles and Muggleborns that scattered the Malfoy family tree. He was struggling with his memories and emotions and the things the Mind Magic was making him believe. He wanted to both accept his father’s beliefs and treatment, and prove he was wrong and he’d been abused his whole life.

He jumped when his pursuers pounded harder on the door behind him. He didn’t know what to do. He had no way of escaping and he couldn’t fight all four of them. He didn’t even want to know what they would do to him if they got to him.

The door rattled and cracked behind him. His heart was beating out of his chest at the threat against his back. He clenched his eyes shut as the door continued shaking behind him. He could do nothing more than gasp when the door suddenly blew apart and he was thrown across the floor.

He rolled over onto his back, groaning in pain. He glared up at the Slytherins as they stood over him.

“Think you can run away from who you are?” Blaise Zabini sneered down at Draco.

“Just going to abandon us? For what, Muggles and Mudbloods?” Theodore Nott said.

“No, for me,” Draco snapped. “I’m not going to be what he wants.”

“How could you betray your own father?” Hestia Carrow said and Draco tensed at the sight of her wand. He knew what Carrows were capable of, no matter their age.

“He’s a bastard,” Draco spat. “He’s no father.”

“Ungrateful,” Zabini growled and threw out a foot, kicking Draco hard in the cheek.

Draco rolled at the impact, crying out in pain as his cheekbone shattered. He screamed as Hestia’s Cruciatus ripped through his body. He heaved and coughed as it ended, spewing blood across the stone beneath him. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling as Nott stomped on his ribs, snapping them. He was unable to do anything as the assault continued. His vision eventually began to grow dark and he was sure they were going to kill him.

Not much of a hero after all, he thought just as another blow to his head sent him fully into the dark.

Harry chewed his lip as he stared at the huge painting of a knight, trying to see anything strange. He was convinced this was where the Sword of Gryffindor was hidden, but he didn’t know how to get to it.

“Are you sure this is it?” Ron asked behind him.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, it has to be.”

“Maybe it won’t work because the portrait isn’t moving anymore,” Hermione said.

“No, there’s a way,” Harry said quietly. He stepped up to the painting and, instinctively, he raised his hands. He frowned as he felt the air tingle on his palms and his magic swirled inside. He felt a pressure, the same build of magic he’d had before, but he grabbed hold of it this time. He pushed it up and out to his hands, and then to the painting, picturing his magic coating the portrait.

“Harry,” Hermione gasped and he opened his eyes. The painting of the knight shimmered and seemed to melt, leaving behind a blank canvas.

“How did you do that?” Ron asked.

Harry dropped his hands, breathing slightly heavy. It had taken a lot of power to remove the painting. He was about to tell Ron he didn’t know how he did it when the empty frame was filled as Godric Gryffindor and his lion from the core entered.

“You have a hidden power in you, young hero,” Gryffindor said, gazing down at Harry. “That was very powerful Concealment Magic you removed.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at his friends who both shrugged. He wasn’t sure what the power was, but he had a feeling it was something else Dumbledore had hidden inside of him. He turned back to Gryffindor.

“Are you ready?” Gryffindor asked.

Harry was slightly surprised the man knew what he was after. “Yes,” he said firmly with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt.

Gryffindor bowed his head and the portrait swung open. It revealed a doorway with an arch-like top and it was pitch black, preventing Harry from seeing anything.

“Harry, are you sure about this?” Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

Their attention was pulled to their bracelets where a short message had appeared.

DM in HW. SOS.

Harry felt panic twist his stomach as he wondered what had happened to the Slytherin. He looked at Ron and Hermione, torn. He needed to make sure Malfoy was okay, but he also needed to get Gryffindor’s sword.

They seemed to understand his dilemma.

“Get the sword,” Ron said. “We’ll go make sure Malfoy’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, knowing Ron still wasn’t thrilled about the Slytherin.

Ron nodded. “Go. You’re the only one that can do this.”

Harry sighed. Ron was right.

“Be careful,” Hermione said, her face full of worry.

“I will,” Harry said. “Go.”

With a final look of concern passed between the three of them, Ron and Hermione ran from the Tower and Harry turned back to the secret passage. He swallowed thickly and pulled his wand, gripping it tightly. He knew what the prophecy had said about Gryffindor’s test, but he still didn’t know what to expect. He was sure it was going to be harder than it sounded.

“Lumos,” he whispered and took a deep breath before stepping up into the passageway. The painting swung shut behind him, leaving him in the silent passage with just his wand light.

He stood where he was for a couple minutes, his breathing seeming to echo around him. There was nothing indicating where the passage would lead which did not help him calm his pounding heart.

He eventually forced himself to move, walking slowly down the stone tunnel. It declined slightly and turned a little to the left. As he rounded the small bend, he walked through another arched doorway, stepping into a huge, circular room. He jumped at the torches that came to life around the room, allowing him to see. He had a feeling the magic of the sword influenced the chamber it was in as he couldn’t imagine Dumbledore putting any kind of detail in a simple hiding place.

Veins of red and gold ran across the floor, all ending at the base of a lion sculpture in a crouched, roaring position. There was a stone platform on its back. On the walls were words engraved, also in red and gold. They were all the traits associated with the house of Gryffindor.

“Possible hero,” the voice of Gryffindor echoed in the room, making Harry jump again. “Step forward if you dare to attempt the trial of Godric Gryffindor.”

Harry hesitated, but slowly approached the lion statue. He gaped when a shadowy figure that was clearly Godric Gryffindor appeared on the opposite side of the lion.

“Do you hold the title of Hero of Hogwarts?” Gryffindor asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to claim the Sword of Gryffindor?”

“Yes.”

“Defeat your fear, and prove you are worthy of my sword and the title of hero.”

Gryffindor disappeared and Harry watched the lion dais sink into the floor, leaving behind a red and gold disk in the center of the floor.

The room grew deafeningly silent and Harry gazed around, unsure what he was waiting for. The silence seemed to go on forever, making him hold his wand even tighter in anxious anticipation.

“Boy!”

Harry whipped around at the roar only to be viciously backhanded and thrown to the floor. He blinked to remove the dazed spots from his eyes and looked up at his uncle in terror. His lip stung where it had split from the hit.

“We never wanted you!” Vernon yelled, advancing on Harry. “No one will ever want you!”

Harry covered his face as his uncle threw a punch at him.

“Just a freak that gets people killed!” Vernon continued, throwing a kick that caught Harry painfully in the ribs, making him gasp. “Everyone hates you! Done nothing but bring misery to my life and family!”

“I’m sorry!” Harry cried out, yelping and groaning at the blow he took to the stomach.

“You don’t deserve anything!”

A kick to his shoulder and he yelled out when he felt something crack.

“Good for nothing, freak!”

His eyes widened as Vernon brought down the belt he suddenly held, the buckle tearing at his back. He screamed in pain, tears pouring down his face and his fear paralyzing him from retaliating. He’d never been able to fight back. He’d always been too scared, knowing what his uncle was capable of. He’d been terrified of being sent away, to be trapped somewhere completely alone.

“You should have died with your freak parents!”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out.

“How did we produce such a weak child?”

Harry’s eyes flew open at the new voice. He rolled over onto his back despite his injuries and gazed up at his parents. He was shocked by the hateful glares they were sending him.

“We’re glad we’re dead,” James spat.

“Better than living with the shame of having you as a son,” Lily sneered.

Harry felt his breaths come in short gasps as he listened to his parents. It was what he’d always feared subconsciously, that his parents were ashamed of him and wouldn’t want him.

“I…I’m sorry, I tried,” Harry stuttered, agonized by his parents’ words.

“You’re a failure,” Lily said in disgust.

“And everyone is better off without you,” James said, his eyes flashing with hate.

“I know,” Harry whispered, shutting his eyes tight. When he opened them, he jumped at the snake-like Voldemort standing before him. It was even more frightening as Dumbledore’s face kept phasing in and out of Voldemort’s, his mind fighting to understand that his greatest enemy was actually the creation of his greatest mentor. Despite knowing the truth, the monster version of Riddle had haunted him for the last several years.

“I will see the light leave your eyes!” Voldemort cackled, bringing Harry back to the graveyard. All the fear that had filled him then returned full force and he was frozen all over again.

“You’re mine to control,” Dumbledore said when his face took over briefly. “You will be alone because I will it.”

“No, please,” Harry whimpered only to scream as the hybrid cast the Cruciatus. The white-hot pain tore through his nerves and he writhed on the floor, praying for it to end.

When it finally ended, he was left gasping and sobbing on the floor, his forehead pressed against the stone. His chest was heaving and tears had soaked the collar of his shirt from falling down his face and neck. He turned his head when he heard a footstep and looked up fearfully at Sirius. His chest restricted at the sight of his beloved godfather.

“Azkaban was preferable to being responsible for you,” Sirius said and Harry’s eyes closed at the jab of pain in his heart. “I never wanted you. Why do you think I never fought Dumbledore to have you live with me?”

Harry just cried, keeping his eyes shut and his forehead to the floor.

“What a relief it was when I went through that veil,” Sirius continued hatefully. “You deserve this, you deserve to be alone.”

“I know,” he whispered again.

He stayed crying against the stone for what seemed like forever. He eventually raised his head and frowned at what now surrounded him. His relatives, his parents, Sirius, Lupin, Ron and Hermione, the Voldemort-Dumbledore hybrid, Snape, and anyone else he had any kind of relationship with stood around him, circling the room. He slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting, twisting and turning to see everyone surrounding him.

“You’ll always be alone…forever,” they all said together, making the phrase boom and echo.

“I know,” he said.

“Alone…forever!” they all shouted.

He watched with wide eyes and crushing fear as, slowly, one by one, each person encircling him stepped backwards, disappearing into the dark.

“Wait, please,” Harry pleaded. “I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me.”

None of them responded; they just continued walking into the dark. Finally, he was left with just his uncle, his longest fear. With a maniacal grin, Vernon also disappeared and Harry was alone.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, flicking his gaze around, hoping there was someone, anyone still with him. A harsh sob escaped him at the emptiness and he curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and crying into them.

He was alone. It was always going to end up this way. He was there to be hurt and abandoned. Everyone always left him; they always would.

Hogwarts had made a mistake. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t fight. He wasn’t brave or strong enough.

He raised his watery, red eyes when he felt the air around him ripple. Some of the figures had come back.

His parents…Sirius…Lupin…Ron…Hermione…Malfoy…Snape…Luna…Riddle…

He gazed at them, frowning, when each figure began to glow. The light engulfing them extended and hit him in the chest, causing a warmth to rise up inside of him. Suddenly he was seeing flashes before his eyes and he realized they were snippets of memories. He rose to his feet, looking at his wand as it vibrated in his hand.

“I’m not alone,” he mumbled and felt the warmth begin to push at his all-consuming fear. He looked up at those in front of him. “I’m not alone.”

The flashes of memories continued.

“My parents have always been with me. They’re a part of me,” he said and saw Lily and James smile at him. “You have all risked everything for me and that’s made you a part of me.”

Several others started smiling as well.

“None of you left me,” he said, feeling the warmth grow. “You were taken from me.” The warmth pulsed in his chest.

He swung around to face Dumbledore who had reappeared. The headmaster’s expression was hard and cold.

“You convinced me I was alone, made sure to take everything so I was afraid,” he said firmly. “But I know the truth now. I know who and what you are. You can’t convince me I’m alone anymore because, the truth is, I was never alone.”

The warmth consumed him, ridding his body of any residual fear. The glow from the others engulfed Dumbledore and he disappeared with a flash, the others fading. The torches came back to life around the room and the lion with its platform rose back out of the floor. Godric Gryffindor appeared on the other side of the statue again.

“You have accepted and defeated your fears,” Gryffindor said. “Come, Hero of Hogwarts. Claim your prize and take back what’s been lost.”

Gryffindor held his hands over the dais and a familiar sword materialized on the stone. Harry stepped closer, letting his eyes roam over the relic. It was just as he remembered. The shining silver steel blade with the intricately detailed hilt. The sparkling rubies on the ends of the hilt’s cross and the very top of the hilt. The name ‘Godric Gryffindor’ engraved in the blade in medieval lettering.

He met Gryffindor’s eyes again, hesitant.

“Bravery is not the absence of fear, Hero of Hogwarts,” Gryffindor said. “It is the ability to stand up and fight in spite of your fear.”

With the Founder’s final words echoing in his head, he slowly reached out and grasped the sword. The second he touched the sword, the strongest power he’d ever felt rushed through him and every lost memory took their rightful place, playing in front of his eyes.

Snape lowered eleven-year-old Harry’s shirt carefully and gently turned the quietly crying boy around to face him.

“Tell me what happened, Potter.”

Harry shook his head, sniffling.

“Why not?”

“I can’t,” Harry mumbled.

Snape sighed. “Let me help you.”

Harry looked at him with wide, startled eyes. “Why?”

“Because you deserve to be helped.”

*

Eleven-year-old Harry laughed as Fred and George shoved Ron into a pile of snow only to yelp when he was suddenly tackled to the ground. He looked up with his face covered in snow at Draco who was laughing in the snow beside him. He grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in the blonde’s face, cutting off the laughter with chilly shock.

“Harry!” Draco yelled, stunned.

“Revenge!” Harry retorted only to yelp again when Draco climbed on top of him, trying to cover him in snow.

Laughing uproariously, they wrestled, trying to bury each other in the snow.

*

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay,” eleven-year-old Harry said to a crying Draco up in the Astronomy Tower.

The blonde Slytherin glared up at him, his eye bruised.

“I understand, you know,” Harry said.

“What do you know?” Draco spat.

“Exactly what you’re feeling.”

Draco’s glare softened though he was still tense.

“I never told anyone either,” Harry added. “And you don’t have to, but, it’s okay if you’re not.”  

*

Twelve-year-old Harry stared at the place where the snake had been in shock. Whispers were running through the students and everyone was giving him expressions mixed between anger, confusion, and fear. He looked at Lockhart who had a look of fear but also awe. Snape and Draco mostly just looked confused.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Justin Finch-Fletchley snapped, breaking the whispery silence.

Tears burning in his eyes and his stomach twisting with fear, Harry dashed off the platform and ran from the Great Hall. He ran outside, collapsing under the giant tree by the Black Lake.

He had no idea what had happened or why everyone seemed afraid of him. He’d been trying to make the snake stop! Why couldn’t they see that?

“Harry?”

He looked up at Draco who was hovering awkwardly, a strange expression on his face. He turned back to the lake.

“Go away,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, about the snake,” Draco said. “I wasn’t thinking, but I couldn’t have known you were a Parselmouth.”

Harry looked back at him, frowning. “What?”

Draco stared back, clearly surprised. “You didn’t know? You can talk to snakes.”

“I did it once before,” Harry said. “It’s not common?”

Draco shook his head. “Pretty rare actually. What were you telling it?”

“Not to attack Justin,” Harry said. “But, I’m…I’m not crazy?”

Draco gave him a small smile, sat beside him, and put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “No, you’re not crazy.”

*

“Harry.”

Thirteen-year-old Harry looked up as Snape hurried to his bed in the Hospital Wing, sitting on the edge. His eyes instantly filled with tears.

“I couldn’t stop them all,” Harry said. “I tried, but I couldn’t save us.”

“There were more than a dozen Dementors, child. Any adult would have struggled,” Snape said calmly. “Your abilities are astonishing.”

“But I couldn’t save us, couldn’t save Sirius,” Harry said, tears falling.

“But you did,” Snape said and Harry looked at him, confused. “You will understand in time.”  

*

Thirteen-year-old Harry and Draco sat on the grey sofa, heads together and laughing quietly.

“Boys, there better be no plotting happening in these rooms,” Snape said, coming up behind them.

They looked up at him sheepishly.

“We would never,” Draco said and Snape raised an eyebrow. “Swear.”

Snape just rolled his eyes, gave both their heads a playful shove, and walked into the kitchen, the boys laughing behind him.

*

Thirteen-year-old Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak as the door opened and looked up at Snape.

"It’s the middle of the night,” Snape said pointedly. His eyes found the cloak and he sighed. “That bloody cloak.”

Harry gave a lopsided grin, but it disappeared quickly. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“What’s wrong with the Tower?”

“Nothing, I just…” Harry trailed off, looking down at the ground.

Snape sighed again, but reached out and tugged on Harry’s shoulder, pulling him into the rooms. “You know where it is.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly, smiling as the man’s fingers ran through his hair before they split apart to go to their separate rooms.

*

“You are the most reckless child I have ever met!” Snape yelled as Harry stared up at him with a slight glare. “What in Merlin’s name possessed you to taunt a bloody dragon?”

“I was trying to survive!” Harry shouted back. “I didn’t exactly have the options the others did!”

“You almost died, you foolish child!”

“Yeah, well, I’m probably going to!” Harry said, jumping to his feet, tears in his eyes. “At least then you won’t have to concern yourself with me anymore.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Snape said, a deep frown forming.

Harry swiped at the tears that fell down his cheeks angrily. “If I’m dead, everyone’s free.”

He was startled when he was roughly pulled to Snape’s chest, the man’s arms tight around him. After just a moment, he returned the hug, burying his face in the man’s robes.

“Don’t you dare give up,” Snape said, his voice low in Harry’s ear.

“I won’t,” Harry whispered.  

*

Harry turned when he heard steps behind him and found Draco standing in his dorm doorway. The Slytherin’s face was full of sadness and concern. He stared at his friend, willing his tears to stay back, but he failed.

He collapsed to his knees with a sob, dropping his head as the tears flowed, Cedric’s body falling before his eyes again and again. He flinched slightly when arms wrapped around him, a head leaning comfortingly against his. He brought his hands up to grasp Draco’s arm across his chest.

They said nothing.

Draco just hugged him as he sobbed.

*

Harry threw the glass at the fireplace, watching it shatter against the stone. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cedric and it was tearing him apart. He couldn’t breathe through the agony.

“It’s my fault!” he screamed, tears pouring down his face.

“No, it’s not,” Draco said. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

Harry chucked another glass. “I’m the one he wants! It’s my fault! I killed him!”

“Harry…” Draco said sadly, looking at Snape helplessly.

Harry suddenly fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs. “I’m a murderer.”

Snape swept over and knelt in front of Harry. He gently pulled Harry’s chin up to meet the grief-stricken green eyes. “You are no such thing.”

“Then what am I?”

“You are my son.”

Harry’s eyes flew open and he sucked in a gasping breath as though he hadn’t breathed during the entire experience. Still feeling the rush of power and emotions, he took a moment to regain his bearings. He was in agony from Vernon’s and Voldemort’s apparently very real torture. His magic was swirling excitedly inside, joined with a new, unknown power and the power of the sword. Tears were still streaking his face and his mind was whirling with his regained life.

He finally looked around, shocked to find he was in Hogwarts’ core, the four Founders gazing down at him.

He looked down at the sword still in his hand. It seemed to be vibrating, clearly reacting to finally being back with the core after so long. It was a drastically different feeling compared to when he’d held it back in second year.

The waxing and waning of glowing red drew his gaze to the strips of red in the walls and floor. He stepped up to the lion dais, this one on its hind legs and the podium held in front of its face on its front legs. Without really thinking, he laid Gryffindor’s sword across the stone.

The red veins burst with intense light and the ruby on the statue of Hogwarts illuminated brightly. The chamber pulsed with a power and happiness so strong he barely noticed the tingling on his right arm. Ignoring the blood staining his shirt from Vernon’s abuse, he rolled back his sleeve. A red band had appeared on top of the others, close to his elbow.

“Champion of Gryffindor,” Gryffindor said.

“And Hero of Hogwarts,” Hufflepuff said.

“You have proven yourself,” Slytherin said.

“Hogwarts thanks you,” Ravenclaw said.

Harry looked at each of them. “We’ll do this. We’ll stop him, I promise.”

“We trust in your word, Hero,” they all said together and bowed their heads to him.

The adrenaline wearing off, Harry groaned at the pain he was in and sighed in exhaustion, mental, emotional, and physical. He climbed out of the core and gazed around the Chamber.

He’d done it. He got Gryffindor’s sword. They were one small step closer to ending Dumbledore’s reign.

He frowned at yet another sensation and looked at his bracelet.

H? OK?

He let his eyes close, remembering what had been happening when he went after the sword, and remembering Ron and Hermione were likely terrified for him. He’d have to explain what happened in the trial. He groaned again, but sent a return message.

OK. CoS.

He blew out a breath and turned to stare into the giant face of Slytherin. His emotions were all over the place from the fear of the trial, overcoming the trial, and his regained memories. He couldn’t believe everything that Dumbledore had taken from him. The instances of inter-house comradery, the friendships he’d had…the family he’d found. Over the years, there had been breaks in the magic and they’d all managed, at least briefly, to do exactly what Dumbledore didn’t want: unite. Anytime Dumbledore noticed the changes, he’d increased the Mind Magic to make them all forget, to create false hatred among them, to create false scenarios revolving around the threat of Voldemort. Doing so, Dumbledore had taken away the family he’d created for himself.

Snape—Severus—had come to be like his father. He’d trusted the man with his life, relied on him, loved him. Severus had managed each year to break through the Mind Magic just enough to be there for him during everything he’d experienced. Dumbledore had taken that away, convincing him that Severus despised him and that he’d never have a family.

But it wasn’t true. He’d had Severus as a father and he’d found a brother in Draco Malfoy in second year. The two had discovered their shared childhood trauma and eventually bonded, Draco also being there for him through everything. Severus had also discovered Draco’s abuse, causing Draco to join Harry under the man’s care. They had had four years with each other. It was only the previous year, fifth year, that no breaks had been managed. Things had been made worse than ever last year, Dumbledore draining more and more of Hogwarts’ magic to create the horrible circumstances they’d all been forced to face, even with each other.

They’d been a family, but Dumbledore had taken that away.

“Harry!”

He was startled by Hermione’s gasp behind him.

Right. They were all coming to find him and he probably looked a fright.

“What in Merlin’s name has happened to you?”

He spun around at Severus’ voice.

Dad.

His eyes widened and teared up as all his recovered memories and emotions filled him. He gazed at Severus as though he’d never seen the man before and, he supposed, it was true in some way. He let his emotions take over and rushed over to Severus, ignoring the others that were also there and watching. He wrapped his arms around the man and pressed his face to the man’s shoulder. He felt Severus stiffen.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember, but I do. I remember everything,” Harry said into Severus’ shoulder. “He took you from me.”

“Potter—”

Harry pulled back, gazing up at Severus through tears. “Please, can you call me ‘Harry’? Please, just once, so I can hear it for real?”

Severus gave him an odd look. “Harry.”

Harry smiled and sobbed, hugging Severus again. How he wished the man remembered. He was going to release Severus when, shockingly, the man’s hands landed lightly on his injured back, keeping Harry against him. It hurt, but he didn’t care.

“I do not remember, but I recognize there is something between us,” Severus said quietly.

Harry choked on a sob gain and buried his face in Severus’ shoulder, squeezing the man tightly as he lamented the loss of the only father he’d ever know, but didn’t remember until all these years later only to have the man not remember either. He eventually stepped back, wiping away his tears as he stared up at Severus.

“I wish you remembered,” he whispered, pained at the unfairness of being so close yet so far from having his life back.

Severus gazed into his eyes before bringing a hand up to rest on Harry’s cheek. “As do I, child.”

They were quiet for a time until Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably, yelping when Hermione swatted him.

“Hermione!” Ron snapped. “What happened, mate?”

It was then Harry remembered what he probably looked like.

“Right, uh, I did it,” Harry said, somewhat dumbly. “I got Gryffindor’s sword.”

All of his friends gasped, shocked at his news.

“How did you do it?” Ron asked.

“What happened?” Seamus added.

“Before you relay your tale, let us get you cleaned up,” Severus interrupted.

“Right, sure,” Harry said and let Severus guide him to the Founders’ Library. He accepted the man’s gentle push on his shoulder silently telling him to sit on the sofa. He immediately removed his tattered, bloody shirt, wincing at the painful pulling of his lacerations. He looked at the professor, waiting for treatment and remembering all the other times this same kind of situation had taken place.

“What caused this?” Severus asked, grasping Harry’s chin and dragging his wand along the split lip, eyebrow, and cheek.

“My uncle,” Harry said. “It was Gryffindor’s test. I had to literally face my fears.”

He saw the tightness appear in Severus’ jaw and the flash in the dark eyes. He flinched slightly as the man prodded his collarbone, finding it to be obviously cracked, but not broken. He turned so Severus could see his back.

“This is—”

“Common,” Harry finished simply. “Every day of my life, pretty much.”

There was no response and he sat silently as Severus did what he could to heal the injuries with just his wand.

“You knew before,” Harry said into the quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve found out about this, my relatives, before,” Harry said. “You found out each year and helped me. He made you forget.”

At the touch on his arm, he turned back around to face Severus. He could see pain in the man’s eyes and felt his own pain as he realized he was going to have to live with the truth while Severus and Draco lived in their false reality. He wouldn’t be able to interact with them the way his recovered memories wanted him to and it made his heart ache. How was he meant to go about his days with his family around, but unable to be with them in that way? He watched Severus repair and clean his shirt, and slipped it back on. He let Severus help him put on the transfigured sling to help his collarbone heal.

“We’ll get your memories too,” Harry said. “I got them back when I touched the sword. Must be because of it being pure Hogwarts magic.”

Severus just nodded. “Go. Return to your friends.”

Harry sighed at the hard tone, knowing Severus was feeling frustrated and uncomfortable. “Yes, sir,” he said and left the Library. He rejoined the others waiting in the Chamber.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked, glancing at his sling in concern.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“Gryffindor’s trial,” Harry said, breathing deeply as he tried to pull his mind from his still-lost-to-him father. “It was pretty literal on the ‘face and defeat your fears’ concept. They were able to actually hurt me. I did it, though, I got the sword.”

“You really got it?” Seamus asked, eyes wide in amazement.

Harry nodded and carefully maneuvered his right sleeve up using his wrapped arm to show his newly acquired red band. He shook his arm to make his sleeve fall once they’d all had a look.

“I also remember everything,” Harry said, his friends’ eyes widening even more. “Touching a Founder’s magic, I guess it was stronger than Dumbledore’s.”

“What do you remember?” Seamus asked.

“Yeah, tell us what we’re missing,” Ron said.

Harry sighed, surprisingly burdened by knowing the truth he’d been wanting. “I can’t. It could cause you to push your barrier too hard. You could go into a coma, like the others. I’m sorry.”

He gave them apologetic looks as their faces fell, even becoming a bit angry. He understood their frustration. They had to keep living under Dumbledore’s control while Harry was free. They had to keep risking everything to try get any memories through Legilimency.

“Look, I know it sucks, and I’m sorry, but we’ll get your memories back, I promise,” Harry said. “We have one sword. Once we have them all, we can fight back, but you can’t if you’re in a coma or dead.”

While they were clearly frustrated still, his friends nodded, conceding that he was right. The small acknowledgement would have to do. He switched his attention to another pressing issue.

“Dra…uh, Malfoy,” he stumbled, reminding himself that only he remembered how things were supposed to be. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the infirmary,” Hermione said, giving him an odd look. “He’ll be okay.”

“I need to go see him,” Harry said. “Watch the map and tell me if you see Dumbledore coming to the Hospital Wing.”

“Are you sure?” Ron said, frowning.

Harry assumed it was strange that he wanted to see Draco Malfoy even though they had been to see the Slytherin as well. They had done it more because he’d told them to check on Malfoy, not because they had any kind of strong attachment to the blonde. It was likely odd to see him showing sincere concern for Malfoy.

Harry nodded. “I need to see him.”

Giving each other uncertain glances, his friends eventually nodded in agreement. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Luna went to the Library to track Dumbledore on the Marauder’s Map while he hurried up to the Hospital Wing, ignoring his residual aches and pains. He did his best to rush past anyone he encountered so they didn’t have time to examine him, but also not be too obvious that something was going on. He peeked into the Hospital Wing to ensure Dumbledore wasn’t there before slipping inside and to Draco’s bed, casting a cursory glance at the comatose Dean.

“Potter,” Draco said in gruff surprise before his eyebrows came together and his mouth turned down into a frown. “The hell happened to you? You look like hell.”

Harry rolled his eyes, amused. “I fought an ancient magic to get an ancient sword, what’s your excuse?”

“I made the mistake of not worshipping my father,” Draco said somewhat snappishly.

Harry sighed quietly. Draco was obviously making some breakthroughs and Harry felt the sting of knowing Draco was going through it alone. He was already so desperate to be able to be with Severus and Draco the way he remembered. He could barely handle how badly he wished to hug the blonde, having always been slightly more tactile than his brother.

Brother.

His eyes burned again and he turned his head so Draco didn’t see. He looked at Dean and all the other beds with drawn curtains that he knew held the other comatose and dying students. He hoped they weren’t in pain.

“How did you find it?” Draco asked, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. “The sword.”

“With Ron and Hermione’s help,” Harry said. “We knew it had to be in the castle still and Riddle had said Dumbledore will have hid the swords in places that had meaning to him and the game. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. The common room just made sense.”

Draco nodded his head, but did not respond. He seemed to be able to tell that Harry was acting and feeling differently, and it was making the blonde uncomfortable. Harry dropped his eyes sadly, his chest tight with how much he missed his father and brother despite having one of them a foot away.

Gazing at Draco’s bruised and cut face, arm in a sling, bandaged ribs, and grey eyes that did not look at him the way they did in his memories, he felt a rage fill him. It was his own rage, not the Mind Magic, and it was directed at the headmaster.

They were one step closer to ending all of it, to stopping Dumbledore’s game.

And they would stop him.

Harry grinned triumphantly as he silently produced a shield and blocked Draco’s Tickling Charm. It may have taken months and the release of a power within him previously hidden by Dumbledore, but he had finally succeeded at non-verbal magic. He looked at Severus who raised an eyebrow at him before turning to yell at Ron for whispering and then looked at Draco who just rolled his eyes.

“Congratulations, Potter,” Draco drawled. “You finally accomplished what everyone else managed to do two months ago.”

Harry huffed and glared, though he was conflicted on how to feel. It had been a few days since he regained his memories with Gryffindor’s sword and, quite frankly, it had been agony. Seeing Severus and Draco every day, being close to them, but having to keep what he knew and felt to himself was harder than he ever imagined. Every time he saw one of them, he was flooded with memories that made his heart ache and his stomach twist. Despite the pain it caused, he still found subtle ways to be with them as often as possible, though they’d both been doing their best to keep their distance since that day.

He'd visited Draco in the Hospital Wing twice more before the blonde was released. He had convinced Hermione to switch seats with him so that his Potions station was beside Draco, doing similar things in other classes. He tried to be paired with the Slytherin in Defense whenever he could.

As for Severus, he looked at the man constantly and did what he could to draw the man’s attention in class. He’d take his time leaving so that he was always the last one in the Defense room. Unfortunately, there’d been no time for Chamber meetings as midterms were fast approaching. He’d gone to the Chamber himself and had spent hours just watching Severus and Draco on the Marauder’s Map.

A part of him wished he didn’t have his memories; it was so hard to remember them, but be without them. It was excruciating knowing what Dumbledore had stolen from him only to be unable to do anything more about it.

He knew he was being dangerously obvious. Dumbledore couldn’t know that he remembered or had retrieved a sword. He couldn’t help himself though. Severus and Draco were his family, yet they didn’t know that, preventing him from truly being with them. Dumbledore had done everything to make sure he was alone. The thought still hurt. He still couldn’t believe the Dumbledore he’d known all these years had been a total fabrication, a pure manipulation.

“Potter!”

He blinked, realizing he’d completely lost himself in the middle of class. Draco was still in front of him, frowning, as all the other students were packing up and leaving around them. Severus must have dismissed them. He looked over at the man to find Severus was also looking at him with a frown.

“Oh, uh, sorry…sir,” he said, forcing himself to stop from calling the man ‘Dad’.

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco said, sounding irritated. “You’ve been weird since you got the sword.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Harry said slowly, trying to think of anything to say. “Guess the trial is still bothering me.”

Draco hummed, clearly not believing the excuse. “Whatever,” he said dismissively before shoving his wand into his robe and throwing his bag on his uninjured side. The boy’s ribs, arm, and collarbone were still wrapped up and healing, leaving him with only his non-dominant left hand. Draco had clearly been struggling with various things and Harry had been desperate to help, but he’d held himself back. Without his own memories, Draco would never accept such help from Harry.

He watched Draco leave the room and sighed quietly, sadly, while moving to gather his own bag. He moved slowly so he could watch Severus reorganize the room, taking the few extra seconds to just be with the man.

“Potter, what do you want?” Severus said suddenly, making Harry start. The man had turned from adjusting desks and was looking at Harry with an expression of annoyed exasperation.

“What?” Harry said dumbly, having not expected the man to talk to him.

Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Don’t act obtuse. You have dawdled after class for the last three days. What do you want?”

Harry chewed his lip anxiously. He didn’t realize the man had noticed his delaying.

“I’m sorry, sir, I hadn’t realized.”

“You’re lying,” Severus snapped. “Tell me what you want.”

Harry fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, trying to come up with something Severus would believe. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Severus just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ron found another way for everyone to get their memories back,” Harry said, remembering what Ron had found the day he got Gryffindor’s sword. “It’s called ‘Dream Chasing’. It also helps with magical connections, but it uses a really intense potion and spell. We can’t do it ourselves.”

“I see,” Severus said. “And what is your question?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the man being purposely slow. “Will you help us with it? And will you teach me how to do it?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Feeling confident in your skills after one successful non-verbal shield?”

Harry glared slightly. “No, but I seem to have had a boost to my magic since the Mind Magic was removed. I’m…more powerful, I think. Plus, you’ll need someone to do it to you so you can deal with that.” He pointed to the man’s arm where the Dark Mark lay under the black layers.

Severus’ eyes hardened at the mention. Harry knew becoming a Death Eater was the man’s biggest regret which was why he had agreed to supposedly risk his life as a spy. Now, to discover all of it had been a lie, that literally his entire life had been manipulated by Dumbledore, that he’d been manipulated into believing he’d caused the deaths of the Potters…

Harry could only imagine the pain he was in. Well, maybe he did understand. After all, he’d thought he was to blame for both Cedric and Sirius, only to discover it was all a lie. Perhaps he was still to blame in some regard. He’d still made his own choices and his actions were mostly his own. He’d been under Mind Magic, not the Imperius Curse. He’d made choices in the situations, the realities he thought were real, and people had died.

He sighed quietly, hiding away all the pain he was in from his life and memories.

“I would need to see the potion and spell to determine if you could manage,” Severus said, his tone even and not betraying any emotion. Harry hated it. The man had never been overtly emotional, but he’d show Harry and Draco some. “No matter the level of newfound power you may have acquired, you do not have proficiency with it and may still have limits on the magic you can perform.”

“I dunno, I think I could even best you,” Harry said slyly, smirking and hoping to entice the side of Severus out that he knew was behind the Mind Magic. The man that had become his father was cold and heartless to everyone else, but to him and Draco, he was funny and competitive and playful and cared for them more than anything. He wanted his challenge to bring out the competitiveness and playfulness.

Severus looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Harry was sure he saw a familiar spark in the dark eyes.

He watched the man lean on his desk and cross his arms. “Is that so?” he drawled.

Harry’s smirk grew larger as he realized he’d caught Severus’ attention and had, indeed, sparked a small part of the man he knew. “Absolutely.”

It was a complete lie. He knew he could never beat Severus in a duel. He had power, yes, but Severus had skill beyond anything he could comprehend. It didn’t matter though. He wanted to feel like he had his father back, even if just for a moment.

“Perhaps you should have an opportunity to prove such a claim,” Severus said smoothly.

Harry’s grin dropped and his eyes widened. “What?”

Severus had gained a smirk of his own. “A duel, Mr. Potter, to show off your new power.”

Harry groaned as he realized what he’d just got himself trapped in. He’d done what he’d intended, he’d pulled out the father he knew, but, in doing so, he’d set himself up for a spectacular defeat. Severus knew—Mind Magic or not—that he also couldn’t pass up a challenge and was calling his bluff. However, as annoyed as he was at himself for allowing Severus to trap him, he couldn’t help but be thrilled at the amusement he saw in the man’s face. He would take any humiliating defeat if it meant he could see his father.

“Saturday evening in the Chamber?” Severus suggested and Harry huffed, glaring half-heartedly.

“You’re evil,” he muttered and, if Severus had had his memories, he knew the man would have chuckled.

“So I’ve been told,” Severus said casually.

Harry huffed again. “Fine. Saturday.”

“Until then, Mr. Potter.”

With a final tiny glare that had absolutely nothing but mirth behind it, Harry left the room, hurrying to his next class which he was already late for.

Harry knocked on the door and waited patiently for a response. He gazed around the corridor, checking if anyone was nearby to spot him. While it wasn’t odd for a student to visit a professor, it was strange for Harry Potter to willingly engage with Potions longer than necessary. Dumbledore wouldn’t necessarily be concerned that he was speaking with Slughorn outside of class, but he would be suspicious if he knew Harry was interacting with Slughorn but continuously failing to get the ‘real’ memory. However, that was exactly why he was standing outside of Slughorn’s office.

The door finally opened and, after greetings, Harry slipped inside.

“How can I help you, my boy?” Slughorn asked, tucking some fingers into the small pockets in his vest.

“I want to tell you that you were right, about Tom,” Harry said and Slughorn looked at him with curious confusion. “I can’t tell you everything, but you were right. Tom was driven to do what he did and a lot of what he supposedly did is a lie.”

“Oh my,” Slughorn said, sounding off-kilter and like he didn’t know what to think.

“I’ve seen him, the real him,” Harry said and Slughorn stared at him in wonder. “He’s okay. He speaks highly of you, says you were a treasured friend.”

Slughorn’s chest jumped and he made an odd sound. He watched the man pull out a handkerchief and dab his suddenly damp eyes. Harry gave him a few minutes to compose himself. He couldn’t imagine what the man was feeling, to find out the beloved student you thought you’d failed for years was okay and still cared for you. It had to be overwhelming.

“Thank you for that, my boy, thank you,” Slughorn said, sniffling.

Harry nodded. “I also came here for your help.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I need you to create a fake memory, make it look real, and then give it to me,” Harry said.

Slughorn frowned, completely confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Before Christmas, I was shown a memory of yours, except it had been tampered with, and told to retrieve the real memory. It’s why I approached you about Tom and your horcrux conversation at your party,” Harry explained, keeping things as vague as possible. “I know the memory you showed me is your real one, but I need you to make a different one that I can pass off as real.”

A look of understanding dawned on the professor’s face. “I believe I know what you are talking about.”

It was Harry’s turn to be confused. Slughorn gestured for him to sit and they both did so at his desk.

“I told you before that I tried to help Tom,” Slughorn said and Harry nodded. “I went to Dumbledore as well. I hoped he would be able to help Tom. However, after that is when things changed. I came to believe Tom had chosen his path and I had helped him by telling him about the horcruxes. It wasn’t until after I retired that I realized the truth.”

“Dumbledore changed your memories,” Harry said. “He used the Mind Magic on you.”

“I didn’t know it was Dumbledore,” Slughorn said, “but I have suspected all these years.”

“He’s trying to tell me what happened to Tom and he’s waiting for that memory,” Harry said.

“I can give it to you,” Slughorn said. “It will look like a real memory because, in some ways, Mind Magic memories are real.”

Harry nodded, thinking about how his false memories still existed in his mind, but at the edge where his hidden memories used to be.

“What has Albus done?” Slughorn asked, pausing in his retrieval of an empty vial and looking at Harry with an expression of uncertainty. The professor wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Harry sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “A lot, but I can’t tell you, not yet.”

Slughorn gave a jerky nod as he resumed his search, pulling an empty vial out of a cabinet. Harry watched the man put his wand to his temple and close his eyes. Only a few seconds later, he slowly pulled his wand away, a glowing blue-white strand attached to it. He dropped the strand in the vial, corked it, and held it out to Harry. He grasped it gently, feeling the pressure of the act he had to keep up in front of an extremely powerful wizard. He didn’t want to even think about what Dumbledore would do to him if he found out what Harry was doing, especially considering the out of the blue coma Dean had been sent into a couple weeks earlier.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said quietly.

“No, my boy, thank you.”

Harry groaned as he landed hard on the floor, his wand flying through the air and his energy spent. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and rolled his eyes at the laughing and cheering audience and Severus’ smirk as he twirled Harry’s wand in his fingers. He wasn’t annoyed though; it had gone exactly as expected. Well, aside from the audience. He’d mentioned the duel to Ron and Hermione and then, when he’d arrived in the Chamber, their entire resistance group was there waiting for the show.

He looked up as Severus walked up to him and held out a hand. Harry took it, ignoring the memories, and let the man pull him to his feet. With his own grin, he took his wand back when Severus held it up to him.

“Certainly a marked increase in power, Mr. Potter, but I believe some more practice is in order,” Severus said.

Harry just shook his head, smiling. He’d known he had no chance, but it had been wonderful to have the interaction with the man, more reminiscent of his memories. He could almost pretend Severus remembered.

“Shall I take a look at this potion and spell you have discovered?” Severus asked.

“Yeah, come on,” Harry said. “Everyone else, go find something to do. You had your laughs.”

He waved the others off, drawing another round of laughter that just made him roll his eyes again, amused. They all dispersed, Harry weaving through them with Severus to get to the Founders’ Library. He sat on the sofa and dug through the mess of books and parchments on the table, dragging an open book out from underneath. He was surprised but inwardly pleased when Severus sat beside him and he handed the book to the professor.

They were quiet as Severus scanned the potion, spell, and process for Dream Chasing. He sat back, waiting, hoping they had found a viable solution.

“It is a safer, more efficient method, but, yes, very complicated,” Severus said eventually and Harry looked at him.

“Can you do it?” Harry asked.

“It is absolutely within my abilities,” Severus said and Harry chuckled silently at the man’s confidence and, quite frankly, well-deserved ego.

“Can I do it?” Harry asked more seriously. He needed to be able to help his father and break any hold Dumbledore had on him.

“It is…possible,” Severus said. “Given your power level and…Gryffindor nature.” He gave Harry a pointed look with twitching lips.

Harry wasn’t sure what made him do it or say what he said. He wasn’t thinking. It just felt so similar to how it was supposed to be.

He bumped his shoulder into Severus’ grinning. “Oh, shut up, Dad, you love that I’m a Gryffindor, and I’m no more stubborn than you.”

His smile fell from his face and his eyes widened almost as soon as the words left his mouth. He cringed at the odd look Severus was giving him. He looked away, his eyes stinging, and jumped to his feet, prepared to dash away.

“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t thinking,” Harry said quickly, avoiding Severus’ gaze. “I didn’t mean…I’ll go.”

He turned to walk around the table to leave, but a hand gently grasped his wrist. He spun around, meeting Severus’ odd gaze again with his own slightly damp eyes. How his heart ached for the love and affection that only he and Draco could see.

“Sit, Potter,” Severus said softly.

Harry did so slowly, his eyes never leaving the professor. He sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Harry said again.

“Do not apologize,” Severus said. “I imagine it is difficult for you to remember how things should be when none of the rest of us do.”

Harry sighed and pulled his legs up onto the sofa, crossing them. He propped his elbow up on the back of the sofa, leaning his cheek on his hand. He just nodded at Severus’ comment.

“Is it the reason you have been pairing up with Mr. Malfoy and stalling at the end of class?” Severus asked.

Harry dropped his eyes. “I miss you, but I know you don’t remember so I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable.”

“While I do not remember everything, I remember enough to know I cared for you in some capacity,” Severus said. “Do not feel you have to hide your feelings.”

Harry shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Severus said firmly. “As you said, we will all get our memories back.”

Harry looked down at the cushion between them as tears quickly welled up and spilled over. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping to stop the tears. He folded over, covering his face with his hands. Now that he started crying, he couldn’t make himself stop. He supposed he’d never really dealt with, well, anything in his life and he truly hadn’t had much time to process everything he’d learned the last few months. He had finally reached his limit and he could do nothing but sob.

The Dursleys…the abuse…the parents he never knew…the yearly dangers at Hogwarts…the death of Cedric…the loss of Sirius…the constant threat of Voldemort…the torture and possession at Voldemort’s hand…Gryffindor’s trial…the discovery of the family taken from him…the realization that it had been Dumbledore all along…

The violent sobs wracked his body but he couldn’t stop. A gentle hand encircled one of his wrists and his chest jerked as his breathing hitched.

“I miss you,” he whispered so quietly even he barely heard.

“I’m right here,” Severus said quietly.

Harry shook his head. “It’s not you.”

“Look at me.”

Hands tugged on his wrists and he let his hands fall. He raised his eyes to Severus, hardly able to see through his tears. The man cupped his cheek, just like the day he got Gryffindor’s sword. More tears fell, trailing over the man’s thumb.

“It is me, child, and I am here with you,” Severus said softly, reminding Harry so much of his father.

When Severus’ hand slid to the back of his head and pulled slightly, Harry willingly fell against the man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist and buried his face in the man’s robes as the long fingers tangled in his hair and his other settled on his back, a warm weight.

Harry had no idea how long they sat like that, but, eventually, he settled and his tears slowed. He knew he should break the contact as Severus was likely becoming uncomfortable and his lower back was beginning to ache, but he couldn’t make himself move. He’d been without this his whole life because of Dumbledore. Plus, they had no way of knowing how long it would be before Severus got his memories back or if Dumbledore would find a way to strengthen the Mind Magic again. So, he stayed, enjoying the warmth on his back and the fingers lightly brushing through his hair, and hoped Severus’ wouldn’t push him away.

“It is getting late,” Severus said several minutes later.

Harry sighed and reluctantly pulled away, sitting up again. His eyes were heavy and his head hurt from the excessive crying. He dragged his gaze back to Severus’ when the man swiped at the remaining tears lingering on his face.

“You are not alone,” Severus said, calling back Gryffindor's trial. “I may not remember, but I am here and I know I am meant to be here.”

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, unsure he could form words.

“Come, we must all return before our late-night wanderings are noticed,” Severus said, rising to his feet.

Harry stared at Severus’ vacant spot in front of him before taking a deep breath and rising as well. They headed out of the Library, stopping briefly at the Marauder’s Map to check their exits. Harry was about to leave the Library when Severus put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a questioning look when Harry turned to him. Harry understood the silent question and gave the man a small smile.

“I’m okay,” Harry said. “Promise,” he added when Severus raised an eyebrow.

The man squeezed his shoulder and dropped his hand. They parted outside the Library to gather the others and exit the Chamber, going their separate ways.

Harry took a deep breath as he stared at the door to the headmaster’s office. He was doing his best to employ the Occlumency Severus was still teaching all of them to hide all that had occurred the previous night in the Chamber. He pulled forth all the Mind Magic memories to hide his real ones. This was his first interaction with Dumbledore since retrieving the Sword of Gryffindor and he was nervous. He was in an even more risky position with the headmaster now and he was about to take a huge risk with Slughorn’s fake ‘real’ memory. If Dumbledore suspected or discovered anything, he could only imagine what the man would do.

He finally settled and knocked on the door, gaining entrance. He entered the office and took his usual seat.

“Thank you for coming, my boy,” Dumbledore said.

“Of course, sir,” Harry said. “I have something for you.”

He pulled the vial out of his pocket and placed it carefully on the desk. He looked at Dumbledore as the man gazed at the vial with wide eyes, something odd flashing there. Dumbledore cleared his expression and looked at Harry with a smile.

“Well done, my boy,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “How did you manage it?”

Harry took a moment to think of a vague, but adequate response. “Professor Slughorn came to understand the importance of the truth being known.” Harry stared at Dumbledore steadily, keeping his own expression and mind blank. The headmaster stared right back, obviously hearing the double meaning but not finding any other clues.

“Well, excellent work,” Dumbledore said. “We can now learn the truth behind what Voldemort has done.”

Harry just nodded, a part of him terrified that his lies would be caught.

“We will watch our final two memories tonight,” Dumbledore said, picking up Slughorn’s memory and retrieving another from his cabinet. “This first memory is one of my own.”

Harry was surprised the man would risk showing his own memories of Riddle. Perhaps he had tampered with it. He got to his feet and joined the headmaster at the Pensieve once again.

“I saw Tom once a few years after he left Hogwarts. He came to see me and to ask for a job,” Dumbledore said and he poured his memory into the Pensieve.

Taking an imperceptible deep breath to keep calm and focused, Harry bent and entered the memory. He landed in the headmaster’s office. It looked pretty much the same as how Harry had always known it, perhaps a little lighter on the trinkets. The memory Dumbledore also didn’t look much different. His hair and beard were a bit shorter and his robes slightly less garish.

He turned and Dumbledore looked up when the door opened and in walked Tom Riddle. Harry couldn’t help but notice the Riddle he’d met that year looked almost identical to the Riddle before him. The horcruxes had stopped him from aging. The Riddle in front of him wore a straight-cut, clean, black suit with professional-looking robes over top. Riddle walked smoothly to the desk and satin one of the chairs, gracefully crossing his legs and clasping his hands on his knees. He raised his brown eyes to Dumbledore where they flashed red for a split second. Harry noticed a slight fuzziness around the very edges of the memory, something he was sure the others hadn’t had and he frowned, wondering what it was.

He pushed it aside for now and focused on Riddle and Dumbledore.

“Tom, what a wonderful surprise,” Dumbledore said though the welcoming tone sounded forced.

“Albus,” Riddle said. “I am surprised to hear you call me ‘Tom’, considering my…other name.”

“You will always be Tom to me, my boy,” Dumbledore said.

Harry frowned at the sound of static that played over whatever Riddle said next. It wasn’t like the tampered Slughorn memory, so what was it?

“Why have you come here tonight, Tom? I was under the impression you wanted to leave Hogwarts in your past,” Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Riddle who met his gaze evenly.

“You know Hogwarts is my home, like many others,” Riddle said, his tone almost piercing as he stared at the headmaster.

Dumbledore’s face twitched minutely, but he covered it with a smile. “Of course. What brings you back here?”

“I heard you have an opening and I would like to teach,” Riddle said.

Harry was surprised again. Riddle tried to come back? Why? Had he broken the Mind Magic on himself and wanted to stop Dumbledore from the inside?

Dumbledore seemed to be surprised as well.

“I have…discovered a lot and pushed magic’s boundaries,” Riddle continued. “I would like to pass on my knowledge and help the students of Hogwarts, help them explore magic and protect themselves.”

The way Riddle spoke and seemed to emphasize particular words, Harry knew Riddle was trying to imply that he knew what Dumbledore had done. Riddle wanted to protect any other students from having the same thing be done to them.

“Yes, I’ve heard of the things you have done,” Dumbledore said, his tone disappointed but his eyes flashing with something else.

Riddle’s expression hardened and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

“It is because of the things I’ve done that makes me want to teach,” Riddle said.

Harry frowned again when the static returned, masking Riddle’s words.

“And what of your…followers?” Dumbledore asked. “I believe I would find a few waiting for you in the Hog’s Head, correct?”

Riddle inclined his head. “Friends, waiting to celebrate or lament alongside me.” His eyes turned cold. “And yours?”

Static once again, this time hiding Dumbledore’s response.

“Tell me why you’re really here, Tom,” Dumbledore said, looking at Riddle over his glasses.

Riddle leaned forward, his eyes glinting again. “To undo what’s been done. To put things right.”

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “I think it’s too late for that, for you. You have not learned the true power of this world.”

Harry saw an emotion pass through Riddle’s eyes and he was sure it was hurt.

“So, you are declining me the position?” Riddle said stiffly.

“Yes, Tom, and I will continue to decline until you repent for what you have done,” Dumbledore said.

“You cannot hide in here forever,” Riddle said, getting to his feet.

“Goodbye, Tom,” Dumbledore said and, after a long stare, Riddle swept from the office as the memory faded and Harry returned to the current office.

He looked at the headmaster, ready to ask his questions, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.

“We will watch Horace’s memory and then we will discuss,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. He was apprehensive as the memory Slughorn gave him swirled in the Pensieve. He hoped Slughorn was right and it would pass as a real memory. He and Dumbledore entered the memory. It was a mix of Dumbledore’s tampered version and Slughorn’s true memory that he’d shown Harry. The only differences were the lack of care between Riddle and Slughorn, the lack of fear from Riddle, no mention of what Riddle encountered with the Chamber of Secrets, and the dark look of manipulation on Riddle’s face as Slughorn told him about horcruxes.

Harry could see what Dumbledore had aimed to do with the memory. This version took away Riddle’s vulnerability, the relationship between the two, and would have instilled a great shame in Slughorn for telling Riddle about the dark magic he would supposedly use to become the monster he’d been portrayed to be.

They exited the Pensieve for the final time and resumed their seats. Harry pushed down all he knew and fell into the act he had to keep up.

“So, he did it? He made a horcrux?” Harry asked, hoping he’d be able to get some information about where they could be for Riddle.

“Indeed. However, I believe he made five,” Dumbledore said and Harry made his eyes open wide to act shocked.

“Five?” Harry repeated.

Dumbledore nodded. “You encountered one many years ago,” he said and he pulled the diary out from his desk. “This ring was also a horcrux.”

“The diary. That’s how he possessed Ginny,” Harry said. “He used items important to him. Does that mean the locket and goblet he stole are also horcruxes?”

“I believe so,” Dumbledore said. “He became obsessed with such legendary items and sought to possess them.”

“Do you know where they are?” Harry asked, giving all his attention to the headmaster.

“I am uncertain. I have been searching since he returned, but I have only found the ring since then,” Dumbledore said and Harry hid his disappointment. “I believe he has hidden them in places that are important to him, good and bad.”

Harry sighed quietly, but continued the conversation. “The first memory, what was wrong with it?”

“That is simply the result of an aging mind. I can no longer recall parts of the conversation,” Dumbledore said easily. Harry couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not.

“So, was he actually here for a job?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers together on his chest. “I believe a part of him truly wanted the job, yes, but it was not his sole purpose for visiting.”

“What did he want to teach?” Harry was genuinely curious. Riddle had never mentioned any of this.

Dumbledore gave a small, wry smile. “Perhaps you could guess as Hogwarts has never seen a repeat professor in the subject since Tom was rejected.”

Harry blinked, honestly stunned. “Defense? The curse is real?”

“I don’t know if Tom actually cursed it, but there is certainly a terrible string of luck attached to it,” Dumbledore said.

“No kidding,” Harry muttered. He doubted Riddle had done anything, but would Dumbledore? What would be the benefit or goal of having a cursed teaching position, real or not? He’d have to theorize with the others. “Why was he here if not for a job?”

“You saw his defensive response when I claimed he wanted to forget Hogwarts?” Dumbledore inquired and Harry nodded.

“He said Hogwarts was his home,” Harry said.

Dumbledore peered at him, that familiar sparkle in his blue eyes. “A sentiment you have echoed.”

Harry clenched his jaw, keeping quiet.

Hogwarts was supposed to be everyone’s home. You took that from everyone that’s come through here in your years, he thought bitterly.

“Tom always had a very special connection to Hogwarts, much like yourself,” Dumbledore continued. “He always believed he knew more about the castle than anyone. Once he left, he no longer had that connection. He had no reason to return. However, that day, I believe he created a reason, a new connection.”

Harry frowned, trying to figure out what the headmaster meant. What reason could Riddle—or Dumbledore as Riddle—have left behind to keep him connected to Hogwarts? He thought hard before finally realizing.

“A horcrux?” he said, his heart beating faster. “You think he hid a horcrux in the school?”

“I do.”

“But, where? How? Wouldn’t you have found it by now?” Harry asked, shocked he had even a generic location of a horcrux.

“I admit I do not know the castle in its entirety. It is completely possible Tom did, indeed, know of some place I do not,” Dumbledore said. “I have looked time and time again, but to no avail.”

Harry slumped back in his chair with a huff. He had hoped for more specifics. Hogwarts was huge. How would he find one small object, particularly when hidden by someone that doesn’t want it found?

“I trust you understand what this all means,” Dumbledore asked and Harry looked at him.

“He can’t die,” Harry said and Dumbledore nodded gravely.

“We must find his horcruxes and destroy them,” Dumbledore said. “Only then will you be able to fulfill the prophecy.”

Harry’s face hardened at the mention of the false prophecy. Dumbledore had likely planned to hold it over him, to convince him it was his destiny, perhaps even to convince him to die for the ‘greater good’. He couldn’t believe how manipulated he had been, what a good little soldier he had been becoming.

“Will you tell me if you find one?” Harry asked. Clearly the horcruxes were how he was hoping to have Harry kill Riddle. Dumbledore could lead him directly to the horcruxes. “Will you take me with you?”

“I intended to, yes, for, one day, you will continue and complete the search,” Dumbledore said. “I may be close to discovering one and I will let you know when I do.”

Harry frowned slightly at the first comment, but filed it away. “Thank you, sir.”

“Off you go now. You may speak with your friends about what we have discussed,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded and left the office, bidding the headmaster a tight ‘good night’ as he went.

Was there anything in the castle you thought only you knew about? Harry wrote and shook the quill in his fingers as he waited for a response.

His mind had been spinning for the last couple of days since his meeting with Dumbledore. He’d been desperate to contact Riddle with the journal, but hadn’t had any opportunity to slip into the Chamber as he completed his midterms. He’d just finished his final midterm in Defense and had hurried to the Chamber immediately.

Only the Chamber, Riddle finally responded and Harry blew out a frustrated breath. Why? Riddle added.

Dumbledore finally told me about the horcruxes, a little bit anyway. There’s one here in Hogwarts, but he told me he didn’t know where. He said you knew things about the school no one else did, Harry wrote back.

I suppose I may have known some secrets, but none that would be hiding places for a horcrux, Riddle wrote.

Harry just sighed, feeling lost.

Any word on the sword? Riddle asked.

Not yet. We don’t know where else would mean anything to him. We don’t know where to even begin with the others, Harry wrote.

Go into his family history. There’s tragedy there and then there’s his relationship with Grindelwald, Riddle wrote and Harry frowned.

The dark wizard? Harry asked.

There are rumours that they were friends or even involved before Grindelwald went dark, Riddle wrote.

Harry’s mind raced even faster.

Thanks.

He put the quill down and left the room. He headed to the Founders’ Library where he had left Ron, Hermione, and Draco. He needed them all to float ideas. He entered the Library and joined Ron on the sofa, all three looking away from their books and at him in question. He shook his head.

“He doesn’t know. He’s pretty sure the only thing he knew about and no one else did is the Chamber,” Harry said and the others all looked dejected at the news.

“Well, maybe Dumbledore’s lying,” Draco said. “He’s not exactly above it.”

“So, maybe it is a secret place, but one other people do know about,” Hermione said.

“What about the Room of Requirement?” Ron said after a few moments of silence. The others looked at him. “It’s not a well-known place, but it is a secret.”

Harry nodded. “It would be the perfect place. I wouldn’t be surprised if Riddle had found it.”

“But how would we find the horcrux?” Ron asked. “It becomes whatever the individual wants. We would have no way of knowing what Dumbledore asked for.”

“And there’s no magic to power it,” Draco pointed out.

Harry sighed. He had a feeling they were right about the Room of Requirement, but, of course, they were stalled by Dumbledore once again. How were they supposed to save Hogwarts when they needed her magic to do so?

“We’ll figure it out,” Hermione said. “We’ll see if there’s anything in here about the Room.”

Harry gave her a small smile at her optimism and nodded.

“Did Riddle say anything else?” Draco asked.

“He mentioned something about Dumbledore, an idea for the swords,” Harry said. “He said there were rumours about his true relationship with Grindelwald.”

“The dark wizard?” Draco said, repeating Harry’s own response to Riddle.

Harry nodded again. “Apparently they were friends before Grindelwald turned dark.”

“He had to fight his own friend?” Ron said and Harry shrugged.

“I guess. I don’t know anything about it,” Harry said, and he and Ron instantly looked at Hermione. She huffed and rolled her eyes while Draco snorted quietly behind his book.

“Really, pick up a book,” Hermione said, making Harry and Ron grin. “Grindelwald rose to power in the twenties. He believed wizard-kind should rule over Muggles. He gained a following and massacred Muggles and Muggleborns and blood traitors across Europe for years. He did it under the motto, ‘for the greater good’.”

Harry looked at her sharply. How often had Dumbledore said the same thing?

“Dumbledore eventually confronted Grindelwald in nineteen forty-five and defeated him. There isn’t much information on their history together aside from their batter,” Hermione finished.

“It would make sense if they were friends, otherwise why would Dumbledore fight him? He was only a professor here at that time,” Draco pointed out.

“What happened to Grindelwald? Did Dumbledore kill him?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “He’s imprisoned at Nurmengard, his own headquarters.”

Ron gaped at her. “He’s still there? Alive?”

“I believe so.” Hermione nodded.

 “Would he really hide a sword there when Grindelwald’s there?” Ron asked.

“It’s actually a good idea,” Draco said. “No one goes near that place. No one would ever accidentally find it.”

“It has a lot of significance to Dumbledore,” Hermione added.

“Let’s just assume there is one there,” Harry said. “Which one?”

“Well, if it’s meant to have similar connections that Gryffindor’s had, then it likely has to do with what connects him to Nurmengard,” Hermione said.

“Which would be Grindelwald,” Ron said.

“Riddle said the rumours said they had been friends, possibly even together,” Harry said and he raised his eyes from where they had been staring blankly at the table to look at his friends. “What if the rumours were true?”

They all glanced at each other in surprise as they considered the possible revelation.

“You think Dumbledore was in love with Grindelwald?” Ron said.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, but, like Dr-uh, Malfoy said, it would make sense.” He didn’t miss the odd look Draco sent him, but he studiously ignored it.

“Hufflepuff’s sword,” Draco said.

“He’s right. It’s about love,” Hermione said.

“So, Snape,” Ron said and Harry nodded.

“Snape,” Harry repeated, his heart skipping at the idea of Severus having to go to such a place.

“We’ll go tell Riddle and then we’ll meet you back in the Tower,” Hermione said, getting to her feet with Ron.

Harry gave them a grateful smile. They didn’t k now everything and were still confused about his desire to spend time with Severus and Draco, but they accepted it nonetheless. He watched them go and hen feigned being busy by shuffling through the mess on the coffee table.

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve been so weird around me since getting Gryffindor’s sword?” Draco asked after several minutes.

Harry’s hands stilled and he looked at Draco, meeting the grey eyes. He sighed sadly. “I remember everything. The sword broke the Mind Magic.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Draco tapped the book on his lap. “What…what do you remember?”

“I don’t think I should tell you. I don’t want to risk you having an overload,” Harry said, hating the sadness that filled Draco’s eyes.

“Right,” Draco said. “But there’s…there’s stuff about…us?”

Harry gave a small smile. “Yeah, there’s stuff about us.”

“So, that’s why you won’t leave me alone?” Draco said, sounding annoyed, but Harry could tell he didn’t mean it.

He chuckled. “Yeah, sorry.”

Draco shrugged slightly. “We were…friends?”

Harry grew sad again, his heart aching and crying out for his brother. “Yeah, we were friends…when we could be.”

“Good friends?”

Harry fought back tears and nodded. “Really good friends.”

Harry gazed around at his classmates attempting the newest spell in Defense: the Disillusionment Charm. He’d had it cast on him before, but had, naturally, never cast it on himself. Severus had introduced it only the other day and, so far, no one had been completely successful. Severus was wandering through the paired students, mostly snapping, sneering, and rolling his eyes.

He briefly wondered why the man had switched to Defense. Despite the stress of the classroom, Severus loved Potions and, at least in his memories, had never wanted to switch subjects.

“Potter, would you pay attention?”

Draco’s annoyed voice pulled his attention away from Severus and back to his brother. He snorted and held back a laugh as he took in Draco’s missing head except for a single eye. It was both hilarious and extremely disconcerting.

“It’s…progress,” he said and, by the narrowing of the floating eye, he knew Draco was scowling at him. “You missed an eye.”

Draco cursed quietly and waved his wand, muttering, “Finite.” His head shimmered and reappeared as the Disillusionment was removed. He looked at Harry, crossing his arms. “Well? Let’s go, Mr. Power.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that’s made any difference.”

He went to tap his head to try the charm once again, but paused when he felt a very light ripple in the air around him. Ever since his magic increase, he’d found himself a bit more sensitive to the magic around him, especially Hogwarts’. He could detect changes in power and intent, at least sometimes anyways.

He looked around even though he was sure nothing would look different. He supposed he wanted to see if anyone else had felt the ripple. It didn’t appear so as they continued to practice with Severus hanging over them.

“Let’s go,” Draco pushed, irritated.

“Did you feel anything?” Harry asked.

Draco frowned and shook his head.

“Something changed,” Harry said, deepening Draco’s frown.

“Well, ignore it and let’s go,” Draco said.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s snappish tone. The blonde had been more aggravated since their conversation the other day. He assumed Draco was upset that he’d had a friendship with Harry, but only Harry remembered. He understood. Being the only one that remembered anything was frustrating in its own way.

He was in the middle of the incantation when the ripple happened again. This time, however, it was followed up by an intense pain in his chest. He grasped his chest and gasped loudly, falling to his knees as his strength suddenly disappeared. He looked around, panicked, to find every other student had done the same thing. Everyone was on the floor, a hand on their chest, and gasping and groaning. The pain was joined by a strange pulsing. With each pulse, he could swear something was being drained from his body.

He found Severus whose face was filled with confusion and concern. He was trying to get answers, but no one seemed able to speak. Harry watched as the man eventually hurried over to him, crouching in front of him.

“What does it feel like?” Severus asked.

Harry took a few deep breaths through the pain. “Ball of pain…chest…pulsing…feels like…draining…” he gasped out, managing to pull his eyes up to see Severus’ expression. The man’s brow was creased as he examined what he’d been told.

“Your cores are being tapped,” Severus said quietly.

“What?” Harry frowned, groaning as the feelings continued.

“Something is draining your magic,” Severus clarified.

Harry stared at him with his own furrowed eyebrows. Why would someone take students’ magic?

“Wha…what do…we do?” Harry gasped, feeling himself getting weaker.

“There is no way to stop magical draining,” Severus said and Harry forced his eyes to open at the pain in the man’s voice. Severus looked worried and pained that he could do nothing to help any of them.

Harry couldn’t hold himself up anymore and his arm collapsed under him, sending him to the floor. He rolled onto his back, his head lolling as his eyes fluttered.

“Potter,” Severus said and Harry cracked his eyes again when he felt the man’s hand on his chest. He felt a small burst of magic at the contact and he frowned. It was hard to focus, but he managed to develop a theory.

“D…Draco,” he stuttered breathlessly. “Ha…hand.”

Severus was obviously confused, but he still reached to the side and Harry felt a hand tangle in his. At the connection between the three of them, Harry felt a stronger burst of power in him and the air pulsed around them.

Hogwarts…help us, he thought.

Where they held each other grew warm and the magic around them increased. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay conscious, but it was at that moment the magic coming from the three of them exploded, sweeping across the castle. He drew in a deep, gasping breath and heard others do the same as the draining ceased.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and joined Severus in gazing around. Everyone was moving slowly and the quiet chatter was filled with confusion. He looked over his shoulder at Draco who had pushed himself back to his knees.

“What the hell just happened?” Draco asked.

“I think Dumbledore’s trying to replace Hogwarts’ failing magic,” Harry said quietly so the others didn’t hear.

“But what did we do?” Draco asked.

“I think we used the Founders’ magic,” Harry said, gaining curious looks from Severus and Draco. “We’re the heroes. We have access to their magic, the magic of Hogwarts the way it's meant to be used. To unite and protect.”

“Will all students and staff report to the Great Hall immediately,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the school.

Harry frowned, his confusion reflected in everyone around him. Everyone climbed to their feet and headed down to the Great Hall. As they joined up with other students, the chatter indicated that the draining had been widespread and no one had any idea why they had to go to the Great Hall in the middle of class. He filed in with everyone else. They spread out and gazed up at Dumbledore standing at his podium.

“Everyone’s attention, please!” Dumbledore called out and the students quieted down. “I am sorry to interrupt lessons, but an incident has occurred that you should all be aware of.”

Dumbledore paused and his eyes roamed over the students. “As you are all aware, we have had several students in unexplainable comas for many months.”

Harry straightened where he had been leaning against the wall, his gaze sharpening.

“It is with great sadness that I must report the sudden and tragic passing of one of these students,” Dumbledore said and Harry felt his stomach twist as he stared at the headmaster in horror. “The young, delightful Colin Creevey…”

Harry didn’t hear anything else the man said. His ears were ringing with Colin’s name and he wobbled in shock.

Colin was dead?

The air around him whipped his hair and he knew it was Hogwarts communicating. She was heartbroken and furious. One of her beloved children had been murdered.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists and his gaze turned to a hateful glare.

Dumbledore had killed Colin.

Harry let out an angry shout as he violently punched the wall, ignoring the crunching pain in his fingers and the quick appearance of blood. He hung his head with his fist against the wall, not bothering to stop the tears that fell down his face.

Colin was dead.

Killed.

He’d left the funeral the moment it ended, unable to stay around Dumbledore as the man pretended to lament the boy he had murdered. He had no focus to keep up his Occlumency and he couldn’t let Dumbledore know he knew the truth.

“Hero?” a voice said and he looked up at the huge painting over the fireplace. All four Founders had left the core to fill it, all of them looking down at him with concern.

He shook his head. “I’m no hero. Dumbledore killed a student. I couldn’t stop him. He’s going to win.”

“Only if you give up,” Gryffindor said.

“We’re taking too long. We don’t know where anything is. How many more people will die?” Harry argued, finally dropping his hand from the wall. He still ignored the damaged he’d caused himself.

“You cannot save everyone,” Slytherin said.

“Then what’s the point?” Harry spat, angry in his grief.

“To one day have peace,” Ravenclaw said.

“To one day live free,” Hufflepuff said.

Harry sighed sadly, finally looking down at his injured hand. He knew the Founders were right, but it was hard. He had to keep pretending when all he wanted to do was destroy Dumbledore. They all had to keep risking everything because they couldn’t go rushing in. He was too powerful. They had to get the swords or they would lose.

“Potter?”

Harry turned to Severus in the Library’s doorway. The professor was giving him a gentle look. Harry just sighed again. He watched Severus approach him and gently grasp his injured hand. He winced as the man prodded his bones.

“Not broken,” Severus said quietly, pulling his wand to heal the cuts on his knuckles. “It will be sore for a few days.”

Harry just shrugged. His pain didn’t matter.

“We think we know where the Sword of Hufflepuff is,” Harry said, realizing they’d had no opportunity to tell Severus their theory in the last few days.

Severus looked at him sharply.

“Nurmengard,” Harry said. “Where Grindelwald is imprisoned.”

“What makes you think it is there?” Severus asked.

“There were rumours that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were…together,” Harry said. “We don’t think they were just rumours.”

“I see,” Severus said.

“We have no way of knowing if we’re right,” Harry said, regaining his fear at sending his father to such a place and a trial that may not be his.

“A risk we must take,” Severus said and Harry looked at him with watery, shining eyes.

“What if we’re wrong?” Harry whispered. If they were wrong, Severus could die.

“I do not believe you are,” Severus said.

“You trust me?” Harry said, slightly surprised since the man still did not have his memories.

“I do,” Severus said with a small smile.

A couple weeks later saw Severus gazing up at the silhouette of Nurmengard Castle, just barely illuminated by the sliver of moon high in the night sky. The pouring rain made it all the more ominous. The huge tower jutted into the sky, dwarfing the rest of the medieval structure. Even without the dark of night, the prison was made of the blackest stone, made even darker by the sheer evil of the place.

He had no idea what to expect. As far as he knew, Grindelwald was the only prisoner, held in the top of the tallest tower. He had no idea what kinds of protections could be on the prison, what type of security. He also had no idea where to find the sword or what to even look for.

He took a deep breath, gripped his wand tightly, and swept down the hill towards the castle. He crossed the distance and slipped up to the side to sneak around to the front. He peered around a corner, hoping to spot any guards. He frowned slightly when he found none. He silently slid along the wall to the huge double doors, arching an eyebrow at the inscription he spotted on top.

For the greater good.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald appeared to have far more in common than anyone could have ever known. He gritted his teeth and returned his focus to the doors. He found himself growing concerned at the lack of enchantments. It was a wizarding prison that housed the darkest wizard of all time. Surely it should be crawling with guards and enchantments to keep Grindelwald in and others out.

He pushed on one door and it creaked open slowly. He peeked around the door, finding himself in a tall, long, dark hallway. He slipped through the door, letting it close behind him. He stood in the dark for a minute or two, listening, before lighting his wand. He was in a stone hall devoid of windows or light. There was absolutely nothing except stone.

On high alert, he began slowly down the corridor, waiting for a threat. He could hear the muffled rain outside and his own breathing and his light steps on the stone floor, but nothing else. The silence was eerie, keeping him on edge.

He continued down the long corridor for several minutes before coming to a fork. He could take a new corridor to the left or continue straight. He gazed at what he could of each, trying to examine them for clues. Neither had anything to indicate what he would find. However, there was something telling him to go to the tower, so, after contemplating, he continued straight.

As he headed deeper into the castle, he began to pass prison cells, all empty. He glanced into each as he passed to identify possible threats, but he continued to encounter no obstacles. It was concerning.

He turned a corner and found himself at another fork with left or right as the options. Once again, neither gave any indication where it would lead, or so he thought. As he stared down the right, he thought he could feel the remnants of magic. He followed the magic, taking the twisting hallway to a set of winding stairs that led down. At the bottom was a door and he could feel the magic that once covered it.

He pushed it open and found himself in a courtyard, the tall tower’s entrance in the center. All along the outside of the courtyard were stone statues carved to look like suits of armour with various weapons. Circling the tower were stone gargoyles and a huge snake had been carved around the door, its head with its open mouth hovering menacingly near the doorknob. He could feel heavy magic in the courtyard and knew something would happen once he entered.

Readying himself for a battle, he stepping into the courtyard and felt the magic awaken. Creaking, grinding stone echoed throughout the courtyard and he spotted the movement around the outside. The stone statues had come to life and were moving towards the threat.

He spun and dodged just in time to avoid the sword swung at him. He cast a Blasting Curse, exploding the statue before it could continue to approach, only to be grazed by another on the shoulder. Half a dozen statues had made their way to him, attempting to surround him. He dodged smoothly as the swords and clubs were swung at him. He caused a couple to destroy each other, blasted another, only to be thrown across the courtyard when one grabbed the back of his robes.

He landed hard, groaning at the impact to his back. He blinked quickly and his eyes widened when he saw the shape flying directly at him. He rolled just in time as the gargoyle’s stone talons sunk into the ground. The gargoyle growled and he raised an arm in defense, crying out as his arm was torn into. He blasted the gargoyle, wincing at the chunks of stone that hit his face.

He threw up a shield as three statues swung their weapons at him. His shield shook at the impact of the stone weapons and he scrambled to his feet. He dashed away as he dropped the shield, spinning and slashing his wand through the air, causing all three statues to crumble.

He gathered his magic and pushed it outwards in a blast of magic that rushed throughout the courtyard, causing the remaining statues and gargoyles to explode. His breathing heavy from the physical and magical exertion, he pushed his soaking wet hair out of his eyes and slowly approached the door. He glanced apprehensively at the stone snake as he reached for the door handle. Before he could react, the second his fingers touched the handle, the snake came to life, hissing as its tail slammed into his chest, throwing him backwards.

Once again dazed, he fought to clear his head as he heard stone sliding over stone. His vision cleared in time to see the snake’s tail flying towards him again. He waved his wand sharply, destroying the tail and making stone rain down on him, making him throw his arms over his face for protection. He winced at the debris hitting his lacerated arm.

He heard the snake hiss again and rolled to avoid the bite coming his way. The fangs missed him, but still caught and tore through his cloak. He clambered to his feet and raced back to the door, knowing the half-destroyed snake was close behind. At the door, he spun around and immediately sent out a Blasting Curse, the snake exploding inches in front of him.

His heart was pounding and he took a moment to calm his breathing before carefully entering the tower. He was on the landing of a large spiral staircase leading up and down. Like the rest of the castle, there were no windows and sporadic, dull torches causing the entire tower to be encased in near total darkness. He was unsure which way to go. He knew Grindelwald would be at the very top of the tower and wondered if Dumbledore would have hid the sword with or near the dark wizard. He was still greatly confused by the absence of guards which was encouraging him to go up to the top. There was something telling him to go to where Grindelwald was supposed to be.

He headed up, passing more empty cells as he went. Thunder rumbled outside. It took several minutes to reach the top and he stared nervously at the closed, solid iron door. It had a tiny slot to see into the cell and he could feel the strong Locking Charm on the door. He stepped up and gazed through the viewing slot, his eyes darting around when he could see of the cell.

His stomach twisted and his eyes widened as he spotted a partially skeletonized hand off to the side. He took a step back and waved his wand, dismantling the complex Locking Charms. He pulled the door open, cringing at its loud screeching and groaning. Gripping his wand tightly, he stepped into the cell, his eyes instantly falling on the body. He frowned at the slit throat, indicating Grindelwald had been murdered. Rats were crawling all over the body, explaining the missing chunks of flesh. He wasn’t sure how long Grindelwald had been dead, but it seemed to be some time based on the shriveling grey skin.

He sighed and left the cell. So, Dumbledore had killed Grindelwald. Why?

He ignored the question for now. It wasn’t what was important. Realizing something had wanted him to find Grindelwald, he assumed he now had to go to the very bottom of the tower to find Hufflepuff’s sword. He made the descent quicker than the rest of his exploration, understanding that there would be no guards.

At the bottom, he found himself in a round chamber, a dead end. He frowned, confused. Was his assumption that the sword would be in the tower incorrect? Was Potter incorrect about Nurmengard all together? He didn’t think so. Nurmengard made sense as a hiding place for Dumbledore.

He increased his wand light and held his wand higher to illuminate more of the cavern. It was completely empty, but, as he looked, he noticed etchings on nearly every stone making up the walls. He approached the wall and examined the etchings. It was all the words ‘for the greater good’ and a strange symbol made of a triangle, circle, and line arranged together. He moved slowly around the chamber, examining each engraved stone for any abnormalities.

He was starting to think there was nothing to find when he spotted a different engraving. He leaned closer to make out the new etching and was shocked to realize it was a tiny, raised ‘H’ in the very center of the stone. It was extremely difficult to see given how small it was, however, he knew this was it. The sword was here.

He wasn’t really thinking when he raised a hand and pressed his palm to the stone. A power built in him and travelled through his arm into the stone, making it grow warm under his hand. It began to glow with a bright yellow light, streaming through his fingers. He pulled his hand back and watched the yellow light grow, engulfing a large section of the wall. Through the light, he saw the stones shimmer and disappear, the light extinguishing itself and leaving behind an entrance to a black tunnel.

Severus gazed around the room as the dozen torches flashed to life, lighting up the chamber. About half a dozen huge badger statues stood along the room’s perimeter, each with a thick black band of shimmering obsidian around its neck like a collar and a gold pendant with a word on it. Looking closely at one revealed a trait associated with the Hufflepuff house, and he assumed the rest had other traits. Vertical strips of yellow gold and black obsidian lined the walls. The center of the room was a large, stone dais with a flat platform top. An ‘H’ of gold and obsidian was set into the platform, glittering in the torchlight.

His eyes widened when a translucent figure materialized on the opposite side of the dais and gazed at him steadily. It didn’t take long to recognize her as Helga Hufflepuff.

“Possible hero,” her voice echoed in the room. “Step forward if you dare to attempt the trial of Helga Hufflepuff.”

Severus gripped his wand tightly and did as she commanded, walking up to be directly across from her. She stared at him and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Do you hold the title of Hero of Hogwarts?” Hufflepuff asked.

Severus hesitated briefly, still unsure Hogwarts had made the correct choice in him. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Do you intend to claim the Sword of Hufflepuff?”

“Yes.”

“Feel the love denied to you and reject the hate in your heart. Prove you are worthy of my sword and title of hero.”

Hufflepuff’s shadowy form disappeared, leaving him in a silence broken only by the crackling torches and his breaths. Severus was tense as he waited for the trial to begin, unsure what to expect. After several moments, a couple of figures materialized in the room and walked up to the podium. His eyes narrowed and he stiffened as he faced his parents and they glared hatefully at him. Even after them being gone for more than two decades, it was still hard to face them.

“How could I ever love a freak like you?” Tobias sneered. “I never wanted a kid, but to have you was worse than anything.”

“I didn’t protect you because I didn’t love you,” Eileen said. “How could I?”

The words cut just as deep as when he heard them as a child. They had been a staple growing up, having heard some variation nearly every day up until the day he left.

His heart stuttered when Lily stepped up beside Eileen, her face twisted with disgust.

“You really believed I loved you?” Lily said. “Oh, Severus.”

Her harsh laugh stabbed at him.

“I could never love someone like you. I talked to you out of pity for the pathetic, poor, abused boy you were, but nothing more, certainly not love,” Lily said.

Severus could hardly breathe, his heart constricting so painfully he feared it would stop all together. He’d dreamed such things numerous times, but this felt real.

“You remember what you said to me?” Lily said and Severus remembered the day he’d lost her. “You can’t love.”

Severus couldn’t help the lone tear that fell down his cheek. He watched Dumbledore appear beside Tobias.

“You must protect the boy, but you can never tell him and you cannot care for him. You put everyone you love in danger. Do you want to do that to Lily’s precious son?” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling with his manipulation. “You must never care for him. It will only kill him.”

A figure of Harry appeared beside Dumbledore, the headmaster’s arm draping possessively around the teen’s shoulders.

“Don’t forget everything you’ve done,” Dumbledore said. “No one can love you after all you’ve done.”

“You caused all of it, faked it to convince me it was real,” Severus said stiffly.

“Real or not, you did those things,” Dumbledore said with a smirk. “You handed your life to me because you know no one will ever love you, no one but me.”

Severus scoffed. “You? You don’t love anyone, you only manipulate.”

“And what do you do?” Lily jumped in. “You are incapable of love.”

“You are irredeemable, unlovable,” Dumbledore sneered. “And I own you.”

Severus shut his eyes, trying to Occlude against the excruciating pain they were reviving inside of him. A deep self-loathing he’d become so used to he’d nearly been able to ignore it expanded to consume his heart.

“You will never find anyone,” Lily snapped.

“No one will ever love you,” Eileen said bitterly.

“You belong to me and so does your love,” Dumbledore said with an evil grin.

Severus shook his head, unable to keep them out. How badly he wanted out. He couldn’t handle it. He was weak, unable to do anything. They were right. Love would never be a luxury for him to give or receive, not after all he’d done.

“Don’t you remember me?”

He lifted his bowed head to look at the figure of Harry with furrowed eyebrows.

“I…”

“You promised,” Harry said. “You promised us. You have to remember me.”

Severus frowned, completely confused. Harry held out his right hand, palm up.

“Remember me,” Harry said quietly.

Severus hesitated to reach out. He knew this was the trial, to accept what could possibly be a love he’d received or destroyed. If he refused, he would fail, but could he take the risk of knowing what he could no longer remember? What if it was nothing but more pain? Looking into Harry’s gleaming green eyes as the teen watched him, waiting, he raised a hand and pressed his palm to Harry’s.

“Everyone’s left me,” a fourteen-year-old Harry said, staring into the fire.

“I take offence to your use of ‘everyone’,” Severus said, gazing at the boy from his desk.

“You’ll probably leave too. Everyone does,” Harry said bitterly.

“I will not,” Severus said firmly.

Harry looked over at him. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Severus gasped, releasing the Harry in front of him. The emotions of the memory rushed through him and he looked at Harry, his heart pounding.

“I remember you,” Severus whispered. He looked at the others, his eyes growing hard. “I may have lost your love or never had it in the first place, but I gained his. I found him.”

Harry smiled at him while the others disappeared. As they did, it felt like a heavy weight on his chest disappeared with them. He drew in a deep breath, trying not to gasp for it. He watched as Hufflepuff appeared beside Harry, a soft smile on her face.

“You have learned the true feeling of love,” Hufflepuff said. “Love is a difficult thing to earn, but how precious it is when you do.”

Severus gazed at Harry, overcome with lost emotion and the pain of his unloving life.

“Come, Hero of Hogwarts. Claim your prize and take back what’s been lost,” Hufflepuff said and a sword shimmered into existence on the podium.

Severus stared down at the intricate silver sword. The blade was long and thin, ‘Helga Hufflepuff’ engraved in a medieval script near the hilt. Little gold and obsidian gems dotted the hilt around the abstractly-designed badger made of vines and leaves. He marveled at its beauty and its mere existence, all but Gryffindor’s sword having fallen into legend.

Hufflepuff and Harry stood waiting as he stared at the sword. He couldn’t believe it was for him, that Hogwarts believed him worthy. No matter what was fabricated by Dumbledore, he’d still done terrible things. He was no hero.

“We are all worthy of love,” Hufflepuff said gently, a soft smile of compassion on her face.

“Come find me,” Harry said with his own smile.

Severus took a deep breath and reached out to the sword. Several things happened the moment his fingers wrapped around the sword. Hufflepuff and Harry disappeared in a flash of golden light, power rushed through and around him, whipping his hair, and he fell into a stream of memories as his life was returned to him.

Severus lightly traced the scars as he applied the ointment to the fresher injuries in an attempt to prevent further scarring. He finished and gently pulled the boy’s shirt down, allowing him to turn around.

“How long?” Severus asked quietly.

Harry shrugged, twisting his fingers together.

Severus reached out, placing a hand on top of the small ones, bringing the green eyes to him, full of pain.

“I’ll get you out, Potter.”

*

“You are an imbecile, Potter,” Severus said, glaring down at the eleven-year-old in the hospital bed.

“Hey!” Harry said, affronted. “I caught the Snitch!”

“You nearly fell off your broom and then you swallowed the Snitch, idiot,” Severus said.

Harry flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” he muttered. “Still won the game.”

“Yes, you did,” Severus said with a sigh. “Well done, Mr. Potter.”

Harry beamed at him and he sighed again.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked, his voice gentler.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

*

“What in seven hells were you thinking?” Severus growled, sitting beside Harry’s bed. The boy looked exhausted and was bandaged on his arm and had cuts on his face.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry said quietly.

“No, an explanation. You better have a damn good reason why you went down that trapdoor,” Severus said angrily.

“I…I don’t know. The stone…Voldemort…Dumbledore wasn’t here and McGonagall ignored us. Just felt like I had to do something,” Harry said, dropping his eyes to his bandaged arm in his lap.

Severus sighed. “You don’t have to do anything except be you, troublemaker and all.”

Harry glanced shyly at the professor, his lips turning into a small smile. Severus reached out, grasping Harry’s hands with one and brushing back the dark hair with the other.  

*

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, what a surprise,” Severus said as the two twelve-year-olds walked into his office, both with serious faces.

“Sir, Malfoy needs your help,” Harry said.

Severus looked at Draco who was refusing to look at him.

“Like me,” Harry added.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Severus said, dragging the grey eyes to him. He saw the same pain he’d seen in Harry and he sighed. “Come along, child.”

*

“Why do I put up with such childish behaviour from the two of you?” Severus said, examining the results of the Quidditch game.

“Because you like us that much?” Harry offered.

“You’d be bored otherwise,” Draco added.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I think the word you meant to use is ‘relaxed’.”

The two boys looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No, bored,” they said together, grinning as Severus rolled his eyes.

“Brats.”

*

The calm that permeated the room was in direct contrast to the fear Severus had felt only a few hours earlier. Seeing the Dementors swarm the pitch and then to see Harry plummeting to the ground had terrified him more than he ever thought possible. He’d dragged Harry and Draco, who was waiting, from the infirmary the moment he could, wanting them nearby.

After engulfing them in a tight hug, he’d gone to his desk to work while the boys settled on the sofa. There they remained, talking and laughing quietly for some time.

He finished grading just as he realized how quiet the room was. He looked up and couldn’t help but smile. Both were asleep, Draco with his head tilted against the back of the sofa and Harry sprawled to the side, his head on Draco’s shoulder.

He gazed at them for a time, ensuring himself they were safe.

*

Severus stopped at the door to his rooms when he heard yelling.

“What is your problem, Draco?” Harry was saying.

“Just leave me alone, Potter! Go enjoy your life with Snape!” Draco yelled.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry said angrily.

“I heard you, alright!” Draco said. “The two of you with your secret meetings because you can’t trust the Malfoy.”

“Draco, that’s not—”

“No, I know what I heard! Wish I wasn’t a Malfoy and you hate that I am!”

“Would you shut up?” Harry yelled. “That’s not what we said! We wish you weren’t a Malfoy so you could be adopted!”

Severus stepped in at that time, noting Draco’s red eyes.

“Never think I hate who you are,” Harry said. “You’re my brother.”

“And my son,” Severus said, pulling the blonde into a tight hug and then pulling Harry against them as well. “Both of you are my sons.”

Severus’ eyes opened and air rushed into his lungs. His head and heart were pounding with the overwhelming emotions accompanying the memories. Hufflepuff’s power continued to course through his body and he realized the sword was vibrating happily in his hand. He blinked and looked around, stunned to find himself in Hogwarts’ core. He gazed at the sword in awe. Such incredible power to be able to transport him from Austria into the most protected part of Hogwarts. He looked back up, finding the Founders watching him, and he gazed into Hogwarts’ upturned face.

The brightening and fading yellow glow drew his attention to the veins and followed them to the back right. A stone badger sat on its hind legs, its front paws stretched out in front and holding a platform. He stared at the vibrating sword and laid it across the podium. He spun as the yellow threads became almost blinding and the yellow gem on Hogwarts’ necklace beamed.

As the chamber filled with an intense power, he felt a tingle on his arm and rolled up his sleeve. Close to his elbow, a yellow band had joined all the others. The power dimmed and he looked up at the Founders, each of them smiling at him.

“Champion of Hufflepuff,” Hufflepuff said.

“And Hero of Hogwarts,” Slytherin said.

“You have proven yourself,” Ravenclaw said.

“Hogwarts thanks you,” Gryffindor said.

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement of their gratitude, still reeling from the experience.

“Go and find him, Hero,” Hufflepuff said.

An image of Harry—his son—flashed before his eyes. He felt an all-consuming rage at Dumbledore for doing this to him. He’d had sons, had escaped the Mind Magic and found Tom, but that had all been stolen. He’d been made to forget, hate, and hurt Harry. The pain was indescribable. He had to find him.

He hurried out of the core, desperate to find Harry. He headed directly to the Library to scan the Marauder’s Map, but found it to be unnecessary for there sat the boy. He could only see some of the back and top of the messy head as Harry was curled up in the armchair, a book open in his lap. Even from what little he could see, he could tell Harry was upset and despondent, likely from the loneliness of being the only one with memories. He could only imagine how the boy had been feeling all these weeks, seeing things as they were meant to be.

As he stared, watching a page slowly turn, he couldn’t believe he’d ever been able to hate the child, even if magic was the cause. It seemed impossible to hide and replace the love he felt.

“Harry?” he said quietly, and watched the head fly up and the body spin around. Harry stared at him over the back of the chair, forehead creased as their eyes met. He could see the confusion in the green eyes.

Severus walked into the Library, coming to just off to the side of Harry. He knelt down, seeing the anxiety fill the boy as the green eyes tracked him. How could anything have been able to separate them? He reached up, resting his hands on the sides of Harry’s face and neck, cupping the boy’s face.

“How could I have forgotten you?” he whispered and Harry’s eyes widened. The green eyes began to shimmer.

“What?” Harry breathed and Severus smiled gently. “Do…do you…remember?”

“I remember, child.”

They both ignored the book that fell from Harry’s lap and bumped Severus’ knee on the way to the floor. Severus readily accepted the armful of teen he gained as Harry flung himself around Severus’ neck. Every memory of holding Harry flooded his mind, making him squeeze the boy even tighter. Harry pulled back after a moment, tears pouring down his cheeks, but kept his hands on Severus’ shoulders. Their eyes met again.

“You really remember?” Harry asked, sniffling. “Everything?”

Severus placed one hand back on Harry’s cheek, his thumb swiping at the tears. “Everything…my son.”

And Harry collapsed into sobs against him as he held his lost son with everything he had.

Harry didn’t know how long they sat on the sofa, embracing as though the other would disappear the moment they loosened their grip even slightly. He didn’t care how long it had been. The world could be falling apart around them—he supposed it was—and he wouldn’t care. All he wanted was this, his father. He’d stopped crying some time earlier, allowing him to enjoy the comforting arms around him and the fingers brushing slowly through his hair. He thought he’d lost this.

He was overwhelmed with happiness, but then he remembered. It wasn’t supposed to be just the two of them.

Severus must have sensed a change in him as the hand stilled in his hair. “Harry?”

“Draco doesn’t remember,” Harry said quietly, sadly. “He thinks he’s alone.”

Severus’ arms tightened around him. “I know.”

“What do we do?” Harry asked and frowned when Severus chuckled lightly under him, the man’s chest bouncing. He pulled himself up, dislodging the arms, to give his father a look of confusion.

“You have been full speed ahead full of ideas and plans for months and, all of a sudden, nothing?” Severus said, smirking in amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I can’t be the only one with a plan all the time.”

“You have been thus far,” Severus pointed out, making Harry huff. Severus laughed again. “We continue as we have been.”

“What if we can’t do it all fast enough?” Harry said, finally releasing his fears from the last several weeks. “Dumbledore’s bound to notice something. He’s already put Dean in a coma and killed Colin. What if more people get hurt because we’re too slow?”

Severus’ face softened and he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “We do what we can, child. We cannot control everything or save everyone.”

“I know, but…”

“I may not have been Dumbledore’s spy, but I have still been a spy for the better part of twenty years,” Severus said. “We can keep up the act.”

Harry just sighed, feeling even more pain at knowing the truth. He was thrilled to have his father back, but they were leaving more people behind and it was only making it harder to keep all they knew hidden. The more they knew, the more danger they were in, and Harry wasn’t sure it was all worth the risk, not if it meant they could all die. It may not have been real and they didn’t know who they truly were, but at least they were all alive under the Mind Magic. It wasn’t ideal, but maybe it was the best scenario.

“Harry.”

He moved his gaze back to Severus and the look instantly dispelled his thoughts. He couldn’t go back, not anymore. He wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, hugging him again and relishing the arms that instantly held him back.

“What were you working on when I came in?” Severus asked, obviously wanting to get Harry thinking more positively and continuing with any plan currently in progress.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, pulling away as he was reminded of the book he had been immersed in. He leaned down to pick it up, quickly flipping to the page he’d been reading. “We need a way into the Room of Requirement. There’s a horcrux in there somewhere, but there’s not enough magic for it to work.”

Severus took the book into his own lap to scan the information. “Perhaps you could ask the Founders.”

“It’s not actually them, though, they’re just portraits. What would they know?” Harry said, glancing up at the currently empty painting that sometimes held all four Founders.

“I believe they are more than just portraits,” Severus said. “Just as the magic of the Founders exist in the school and their swords, I believe the same magic exists in their portraits and has given them life beyond that of paintings.”

Harry frowned. “What, like a part of their souls are in the portraits? Do you think they each made a horcrux?”

“Not exactly. They would still be alive if that were the case,” Severus said. “However, there is very powerful magic that can provide more than simulated life to inanimate objects. Magic can create life and I believe that is what they did.”

“Best plan we’ve got, I suppose,” Harry said with a sigh, leaning forward to drop the book on the messy table.

“Is there anything I can do?” Severus asked and Harry smiled at the gentle brush back of his fringe.

“There is, actually,” he said, gaining a questioning look. “We need to start Dream Chasing. We don’t know how long it’ll take to find the next sword and it might not be Draco’s. He needs his memories, everyone does, and we can’t keep risking Legilimency.”

Severus nodded. “Let me see the potion again.”

Harry pulled another book out from under a mound of parchments and flipped it open to a marked page.

“The complexity lies in the ingredients and the brewing process,” Severus said, examining the instructions. “It only takes a few hours, but it is a constant, intensive process. And some of these ingredients…”

Harry bit his lip as his father trailed off. “What can I do?”

“I must find these ingredients, but I am unsure how.”

“What about Riddle?” Harry suggested. “He can move outside Hogwarts. Maybe he can find them for you.”

“Perhaps,” Severus mused.

“When we have everything, what then?” Harry asked.

“The potion cannot be left at any point, but I am unable to be absent for this long,” Severus said, a frown forming on his face.

“We can help,” Harry said, getting his father’s attention. “Draco, Hermione, and Luna are some of your best Potions students.”

“This is far beyond even them, child,” Severus said.

“Do we have any other choice?” Harry said.

Severus sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“They can do it, Dad, you know they can,” Harry said.

The title seemed to touch the professor, making Harry realize he hadn’t yet used it since Severus got his memories. The man cupped his cheek again, stroking his face with his thumb.

“All these years,” Severus whispered. “So much time we can never get back.”

Harry gave him a sad smile. “No, we can’t, but we can make sure we have all the time we are owed. I trust them. You can too.”

“I trust in you, my son,” Severus said and Harry beamed.

Harry gazed at the upturned face of Hogwarts, sighing lightly at the two gems still not glowing on her necklace. The power of the core floated around him, wrapping him up. There was such a gentleness in her—their—magic, and it pulled at him knowing this was how Hogwarts was meant to feel all these years. The love and friendship and acceptance that was supposed to be there. The Founders and their bond were supposed to endure through Hogwarts and her students. Even if they succeeded and restored the swords and defeated Dumbledore, could any of it be rebuilt? It had been decades. Maybe the Founders’ bond and legacy was beyond repair. There were few that even remembered what Hogwarts was before. How do you rebuild and foster something entire generations had never even experienced?

“Hero?”

Harry moved his gaze from Hogwarts to Gryffindor. The Founder looked down at him, petting the lion at his feet as he sat in his throne-like chair.

Harry reminded himself why he was in the core to begin with. “Can you interact with the castle?”

“How do you mean, dear?” Ravenclaw asked.

“We need the Room of Requirement. We don’t know what room we need from it, but there’s something hidden there,” Harry said. “The Room doesn’t work though. There’s not enough magic. Is there anything you can do?”

“It is possible we could use what magic you have restored to open the Room,” Ravenclaw said. “We would be taking the magic from the rest of the castle, however.”

“So, it is likely something will fail in the castle as a result,” Slytherin said.

“Will it impact the Mind Magic and the students?” Harry asked.

“It is possible as the magic will be focused on something else,” Slytherin said.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms. “So, to try and save everyone, I have to put them at risk?”

“An unfortunate side effect of war,” Gryffindor said.

Harry shook his head, cursing Dumbledore for all he’d caused. “Alright, thanks. I’ll let you know.”

The Founders nodded at him and he left the core. Once out, he leaned against Slytherin’s lip and watched the duel taking place. Ron and Neville were dueling Draco and Luna, and, based on the red faces and heavy breathing, they had been at it for a while. None of them were holding back, but there was a clear trust in each of them, trust that they wouldn’t actually harm each other. There was also a trust in their dueling partner to support and protect, made clear in the way Draco deferred to Luna to throw up a last second shield and send a retaliation while he rolled away to dodge, leaving him open if Luna weren’t there. He watched as the duel continued until a draw was called with Luna getting the upper hand on Ron and Neville getting an edge over Draco. He smiled as they shook hands and delved into conversation, likely analyzing the duel.

He left his spot and passed the group, clapping Neville on the shoulder as he went. He headed to the ‘Mind Room’, as he had come to call it, knowing his father would be there talking with Riddle. It had been over a week since Severus retrieved Hufflepuff’s sword, regained his memories, and returned to Harry.

It had been a difficult week. Having Severus back made it even more unbearable that they did not have Draco. Their family was incomplete and there was no way of knowing how long they would have to continue to live without him. Dumbledore was also clearly suspicious as he had been calling Severus to private meetings every evening and probing his mind through Legilimency and using the Dark Mark to make him believe he’d been summoned to Death Eater meetings. While he had faith in his father’s skills, it still terrified Harry. He didn’t want to know what Dumbledore would do if he found out that Severus had his memories or that they were all looking for the swords. They were actively unravelling the headmaster’s game and false reality. He couldn’t know they knew until the time was right, though, when that would be, Harry had no idea.

He sighed and rubbed his scar as it prickled. That had also been happening over the last week, only amplifying his anxiety that Dumbledore was suspicious.

Severus was where he’d known the man would be. He was at the table with Riddle’s communication journal and the text with the Dream Chasing potion. He was writing while glancing at the text, running a long finger down the list of ingredients. He stepped up beside Severus, reading the ingredients himself. There were about two dozen with a handful being rare or things he’d never even heard of. He glanced over at the written conversation and frowned.

“North America?” He looked up at his father.

“Yes, it is the only place to find a glawakus,” Severus said, finishing writing the ingredients they needed Riddle’s help getting. There were ten.

“So, he’s going to help?” Harry said.

“He’s going to try,” Severus said and read the response that had come through. “It is going to take quite some time.”

Harry frowned. They really didn’t have time. He rubbed his scar again only to have Severus pull his hand away and give him a concerned look.

“I’m okay, Dad,” he said.

Severus traced the scar before brushing through Harry’s hair. “What did the Founders have to say?”

Harry sighed. “They can use the magic we’ve restored to open the Room, but they have to take it from the rest of the castle. The castle will break down some more and students are at risk of going into comas.”

Severus hummed. “I see.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry said. “How do I put everyone in danger just to get inside the Room of Requirement? We still don’t even know what to ask for or if we’re even right.”

“You know you’re right, child,” Severus said. “As for what to ask for, you are looking for something hidden. You don’t need to know a specific room; just what Dumbledore was wanting to do. He wants you to find the horcruxes, remember that.”

“So, I risk kids to help him?”

“No, to help Riddle and to help them,” Severus said. “Risks are a necessary evil.”

“I know,” Harry said sadly and hugged his father as he was pulled to the man’s side.

Harry stared up at the cracked wall nervously with Ron, Hermione, and Draco around him. After a couple of days, he had finally conceded that risking the school and students was necessary, and arrangements had been made to forcibly open the Room of Requirement. And so, there they stood, awaiting a signal telling them that magic would be pulled from the castle to power the Room.

“Do you know which horcrux we’re looking for, mate?” Ron asked while they waited.

“No,” Harry said. “So, look for a locket, goblet, or diadem.”

Draco snorted. “Is that all?”

Harry shot his brother a scowl, making the blonde raise his hands in surrender. “We just have to go with what we do know, like everything else.”

“Is this something we really want to wing?” Ron said.

“Can’t be any worse than winging it at the Ministry,” Harry said and Ron shrugged in acknowledgement.

It was then a nearby torch flared, the flames dancing into the shape of an eagle with widespread wings. There was the signal. As soon as the flames died down, he felt a rush of magic, disturbing the air around them as it sunk into the wall in front of them. There was a loud groan that echoed through the castle and the school shook slightly. The four of them looked at each other. They had to move quickly.

Harry paced in front of the wall, thinking, we need a place to hide things.

After his third pass, he stopped and gazed at the wall. Behind the crack, a door began to form. It was a struggle as parts of the door would fade and form repeatedly, until, after several long minutes, the door finally solidified, the crack in the wall now a part of the door. The castle groaned and shook again.

Harry hurried to the door, grasping the bronze handle and pulling the door open. Shards of stone fell from the door as opening it made the crack worse. He gestured for the others to follow and they all slipped inside.

“Bloody hell,” Ron breathed and Harry silently agreed, gazing around.

The space seemed never-ending in every direction and the amount of stuff was unfathomable. Here was centuries of students and staff hiding anything and everything, all of it collecting and building mountains.

“How are we supposed to find anything in here?” Hermione said.

Harry shook his head, feeling despondency rush over him. He was going to instruct they split up and just begin searching when a bronze eagle flew over a mountain and landed on a chair in front of them.

“I know of what you seek,” a familiar female voice said from the eagle. “It is here, but you must not delay. The longer the Room is kept open, the more damage will be caused.”

“The diadem,” Harry said, putting the clues together.

The eagle bobbed its head in a nod. “Will you destroy it?”

“We’re returning it to Tom, the one who cursed it,” Harry said. “He needs his horcruxes so he can help us fight. We need him.”

“Very well,” the eagle said. “Hasten, children.”

“Wait, where do we look?” Draco said before it could fly off.

“It is not hidden, only out of sight,” the eagle said. “Be careful. There are many dangerous things in here and you do not have much time.”

The eagle disappeared then, flying back over the mountain it had before. The Room shook, random items tumbling from their precarious perches on various mountains of junk. Harry kicked at a silver goblet that rolled across the floor from seemingly nowhere and sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “The castle’s going to collapse around us if we take too long. Split up.”

Ron took a path to the left, Hermione the right, and Harry and Draco went straight, though Draco broke off down another path not long after. He gazed around, trying to look at everything he passed, and stopping here and there to dig through piles or push something aside to see behind it. He threw his arms over his head when yet another violent shake of the Room made a pile of stones with weird etchings on them fall all over and around him.

“Damn it!”

Draco’s curse echoed and Harry turned around to see him struggling over a pile of cauldrons that were in his way. They clattered across the floor as he shoved them aside.

“This is impossible, Potter,” Draco said, sending a glare at the mess around them.

“We can’t leave,” Harry said. “We need to find the diadem.”

“What do you suggest then because wandering isn’t going to work,” Draco said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What did she say, the eagle?” Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not hidden, it’s out of sight,” Draco repeated.

Harry nodded slowly, thinking. “How is something not hidden if we can’t see it?”

“Out of sight just means somewhere you wouldn’t typically look,” Draco said and Harry frowned at the blonde as his thoughts spun. “What?” he said when Harry’s frown turned into an expression of realization.

Harry tilted his head back and gazed at the mountains. “We have to look up,” he said and Draco copied him. “It’s up high, somewhere on top of a mountain.”

“It’s still impossible,” Draco said.

Harry’s gaze dropped and he looked at a pile not far from them. “Not necessarily,” he said, gesturing to the brooms.

The Room shook so hard they nearly lost their balance and a nearby mountain collapsed, sending junk everywhere. Harry hurried to the brooms, grabbing one and handing another to Draco. He quickly pulled his wand and pointed it to his throat.

“Sonorus,” he said. “Guys, look up high. It’s going to be somewhere high. Malfoy and I found brooms. We’re going to search from above.”

He cancelled the spell and quickly mounted, taking off with Draco behind him. They split up again, weaving through the towers, examining them as quickly as possible as they passed. They couldn’t take too much longer. They had no idea what was happening to the castle due to the Room using the magic, let alone what could be happening to students.

Harry blew out a breath of frustration as he passed his tenth tower with no diadem sighting. He was about to turn around and rejoin Ron and Hermione when the Room began shaking again. He cursed and covered his head as the mountain he was near toppled over, sending debris raining down on him. He hissed as a falling katana-like sword fell past him, slicing down his entire forearm.

“Hurry, Hero.”

Harry pushed his broom out of the path of the still tumbling items and gazed around, trying to find the source of the voice. The Room was still shaking violently and chunks of stone were beginning to fall as the ceiling and walls cracked.

The Room was going to fall apart with them trapped inside if they didn’t get out.

“Harry, we found it!”

Hermione’s amplified voice nearly had him racing to find her until he heard an unearthly scream from Draco. His heart pounding, he urged his broom as fast as it could go, searching frantically for Draco.

“Draco!” he yelled, hoping his brother was able to respond.

“I…I’m here!”

The voice was choked and pained, but it was there. Harry raced in the direction, weaving through mountains and falling stone while his eyes darted around on the floor. He was growing desperate as larger and larger chunks of stone fell, leaving giant holes in the ceiling and crashing into the floor.

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice rang out again.

He quickly raised his wand to his throat, still looking around. “Get out of here! I have to find Draco! He’s hurt!”

“You can’t stay in here!” Ron yelled.

“I can’t leave him! Go!”

As he lowered his wand, he spotted a familiar shock of blonde hair and dove towards it. He jumped off his broom, dropping it as he skidded to his knees beside Draco. The blonde’s body from abdomen to feet was trapped under a huge, oddly-shaped black cabinet. Blood was trickling out the corner of Draco’s mouth and his grey eyes were glassy.

“P…Potter.”

“I’m here, Draco, I’m here,” Harry said, moving around to try and see what kind of damage the cabinet had caused.

“G…get…out,” Draco choked out.

“I’m not leaving you here, so shut up,” Harry said. “What damage can you feel?”

“L…leg…b…br…broken,” Draco stuttered. “Some…something…im…impaled.”

Harry cursed. A broken leg they could deal with, but an impaled object, not so much. He draped himself over Draco protectively when a wave of stone rained down on them. He sat up and looked at the cabinet.

“I have to move it,” he said and Draco gave a jerky nod. He stood and pointed his wand at the cabinet. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Groaning and creaking, he slowly lifted the cabinet. He winced as Draco first groaned at the release of pressure and then screamed as the piece of splintered wood in his ribs was jostled. Once high enough, Harry threw the cabinet away, making it shatter against a wall. Harry paled at the sight of the wood and Draco’s mangled leg, but pushed it aside.

“Come on, we have to get out of here,” Harry said as a huge chunk of stone exploded on the floor nearby.

“I…I can’t,” Draco gasped, his voice getting weaker.

Harry fisted Draco’s shirt, his desperation and fear skyrocketing. “You listen to me. You are not dying here, not before you remember us. We cannot and will not do this without you, so get up!”

Draco stared at him with wide eyes, but allowed Harry to quickly, but still as carefully as possible, pull him to his feet. He cried out, clearly in excruciating pain, but Harry ignored it, unable to focus on anything except helping Draco balance on the broom and getting them out of the Room. It was difficult, but, eventually, he had Draco sat in front, leaning back against him with his arms around Draco to grasp the broom.

The flight was wobbly and he could hardly increase their speed since he couldn’t lean forward, but he managed. With stone pouring down around them, he eventually saw the door, except it wasn’t much of a door anymore. It had virtually disintegrated and lay as a pile of rubble on the floor. The exit was quickly disappearing, stone appearing from nowhere as it began to seal.

“Harry!”

“Harry, come on!”

Ron and Hermione were on the other side of the rapidly appearing stone wall, their faces terrified as they called for him. He pushed the broom harder, cursing under his breath repeatedly as Draco sagged against him and the hole in the wall grew smaller and smaller.

“Almost there,” he muttered. “We’re almost there, Draco.”

His heart was pounding painfully hard, especially when he saw how small the opening was becoming. He wasn’t sure they would fit anymore. He frowned when he saw the stone shimmer, some stone hovering between existence and illusion. The closing had paused inexplicably.

“Hurry, my children.”

“Sorry, Draco,” Harry said and he leaned them forward, drawing a cry from Draco at the painful action. It did, however, allow them to go faster and just barely fit through the opening in the stone. He could feel the stone edges brush his hair and arms.

Whatever had held the opening failed as they passed through and the rest of the stone appeared, splintering off the tail of their broom. He and Draco went flying, crashing to the corridor floor and hitting the opposite wall.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, she and Ron running over to him.

Harry groaned, dazed, before rolling over onto his stomach and forcing himself onto his forearms.

“Draco,” he mumbled.

“Bloody hell, something’s happened,” Ron said. “Luna’s put out an S.O.S.”

Harry dragged himself over to the limp body of Draco, blood still pouring from his puncture.

“Go,” he said. “I’ll get him help.”

“Are you sure?” Ron said.

Harry nodded. “We need to know what happened. Go. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, still hesitant. “Here’s the diadem. We can’t have it in the Great Hall.”

Harry took the silver headpiece and watched his friends dash away. He pulled his wand.

“Expecto Patronum!” he said loudly and his stag burst into being. “Dad. Seventh floor. Room.”

His stag disappeared into the floor and he turned back to Draco, dragging himself to his knees. Draco’s eyes were closed, his mouth lax, and his skin white. Blood was soaking the floor beneath the blonde and his breathing was shallow. He fisted Draco’s shirt again, his own head beginning to spin and his vision blurred.

“Harry!”

He looked up and saw the fuzzy figure of Severus rushing down the corridor to them. Severus crouched beside him and, unintentionally, he fell against the man, all energy leaving him.

“We…we got it,” Harry said, wondering why he was becoming so weak and lightheaded.

“That’s not important right now,” Severus said and Harry could hear the worry in the man’s voice.

“Will Draco be okay?” Harry asked, his eyes fluttering.

“If he gets treated now,” Severus said. “Same with you.”

“’M fine,” Harry muttered.

“Your arm is sliced open, child, you are not fine.”

Harry frowned, his fuzzy head confused. He raised his arm and found it bright red.

“Oh.”

And everything went blissfully black.

Harry sighed as he rolled his head, slowly waking up. He instantly began wondering where he was even before opening his eyes as nothing felt or sounded like the Hospital Wing. The bed he was in sank on one side and a hand landed on his head, making him crack his eyes.

“Harry?”

“Dad?” Harry mumbled. “Where are we?”

“The Chamber.”

“Draco?” Harry asked, remembering what they’d been doing last.

“He’s here. He’s alright,” Severus said.

Harry nodded, sighing again as Severus’ long fingers combed through his hair. After a couple of minutes, the touch stopped and he opened his eyes again just as Severus lifted his arm. He blinked dumbly at the white bandages wrapped around his entire forearm.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Harry said.

“Adrenaline and distraction,” Severus said, examining the bandages. “You nearly bled out. You will have quite the scar.”

“Spice up the collection,” Harry joked, earning himself an unimpressed glare. “Why did you bring us here?”

“Couldn’t very well explain to Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey what you had been doing to cause your injuries,” Severus said, dropping Harry’s arm and moving to another bed.

“Right,” Harry said and he pushed himself up, grabbing his glasses from the little table next to him. He gazed around, realizing they were in the room that was originally set up as a sitting room. The furniture had been moved and transfigured into two beds next to each other. Draco was to his right, pale and weak-looking, but awake and alive. The relief at seeing Draco alive had him sagging into his pillows.

“Professor Snape?”

Harry looked over at the doorway to see Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville standing there anxiously.

“You may come in,” Severus said, finishing his examination of Draco and moving away to make room for the teenagers.

“We were so worried,” Hermione said, bending over to hug Harry.

“Glad you’re alright, mate,” Ron said. “Same with you,” he added to Draco.

Harry held back a laugh at Draco’s stunned expression.

“Right. Thanks,” Draco said, clearly unsure how to react. “Um, so, did we get the diadem?”

Severus gestured to the table between the beds, Harry realizing his glasses had been beside the priceless item. He picked up the diadem, frowning at the pulsing darkness he felt emanating from it.

“What happened?” Harry asked, looking up at his friends with dread as their faces fell.

“The corridor collapsed,” Neville said. “The wall is beyond repair and the ceiling collapsed.”

“The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall,” Luna said. “It’s gone.”

Harry swallowed thickly at the damage they had caused by forcing the Room of Requirement open. “Students?” he asked quietly.

“Five more in comas,” Hermione said, tears in her eyes. “Two fourth year Ravenclaws, Daphne Greengrass, Hannah Abbott, and…”

“Ginny,” Ron whispered, pained.

Harry stared at him, stricken. Another of their rebellion gone and Ginny of all people. She was so strong! He looked at the diadem in his hands again. Was it worth what they had caused?

“It was a risk we knew we were taking,” Hermione said.

“And she’ll be okay,” Ron said, clearly forcing the air of confidence. “It’s Ginny after all.”

Harry nodded, willing himself to believe in Ron’s optimism.

“So, what do we do with the diadem?” Draco asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Harry appreciated the gesture. They needed to focus on what they could do. There was still a lot of work for them all to do to save Hogwarts.

“Riddle needs it, he needs the remaining horcruxes,” Harry said. “Only, Dumbledore sent me after this one. He’ll expect me to bring it to him, but we can’t let him have it. He’ll destroy it.”

“Can we make a fake?” Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. “I can feel the horcrux in it. Dumbledore would be able to feel it too, especially since he’s felt a horcrux before. He knows what to look for.”

“So, what do we do?” Hermione said, biting her lip anxiously.

“Talk to Riddle,” Ron said and they all looked at him curiously.

“Mr. Weasley is correct,” Severus said, gaining shocked looks from the others.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his father, forcing his grin down at Severus’ withering look.

“Sir?” Ron said slowly as though he couldn’t believe what he heard.

“Riddle knows the magic of horcruxes better than any of us,” Severus said. “We must meet with him in due time to retrieve ingredients and to go him the horcrux, so we can ask for his assistance.”

“Ingredients?” Neville said.

“We have to start Dream Chasing,” Harry said. “Riddle’s getting ingredients for the potion. Until you all have your memories, you’re in danger of going into comas. Legilimency isn’t working anymore.”

His friends’ faces grew grave.

“Dumbledore is likely to grow more frustrated and suspicious, especially now with the enchanted ceiling,” Luna said.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “Focus on your Occlumency. If he’s suspicious, he’ll know who to look at and it’ll be us. We’re already down two. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Harry gazed at the huge pile of stone rubble that reached for the destroyed ceiling in front of where the Room of Requirement was supposed to be. Instead, it was a crumbled wall, nearby sconces knocked askew. Across from it, the once humorous tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance ballet had been shredded by falling stone and lay amongst the boulders and debris in tatters. He lifted his eyes to stare up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.

As he took in the destruction, his mind travelled down to the infirmary. The devastation over Dean’s coma months earlier had only increased with Ginny’s, and his guilt was nearly as strong as his guilt over Sirius. He knew the risk associated with opening the Room of Requirement had been necessary—they had to find the diadem—but, now, with the uncertainty surrounding how to deal with the diadem, the consequences no longer felt worth it. How could losing more of Hogwarts and risking students be worth it when they were, yet again, trapped in place? How could their quest be right when they had no guarantee of saving those they loved?

“All who live through conflict question the righteousness of their cause.”

Harry turned at the voice, facing the endearingly kind face of Hogwarts with its soft smile. She was mostly solid-looking aside from the slight fuzziness and glow around her silhouette. She gazed at him gently with her blue eyes and her hands were clasped behind her back, her beautiful saree-like dress swaying around her feet. The red and yellow stones of her necklace glittered, the blue and green stones dulled with their lack of power.

“Does he?” Harry said, making it clear who he was referring to without the name.

Hogwarts just looked at him with a mixture of sadness and indulgence.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, pained. “I never wanted any of this.”

“No one does, my child,” Hogwarts said. “Pain is inevitable in life, in love.”

Harry turned to the wall, tears in his eyes. “I’m not sure I want it then. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Peace will return upon your victory.”

Harry looked at her, heartbroken. “What if we’re not? What if we lose?”

Hogwarts smiled and brought a hand up to her partially glowing necklace. “I have faith in my children.”

Harry felt a light brush of air settle over him, a feeling of love and pride sinking into him. He gave her a small smile of his own.

“What happens then? Does all of this fix itself?” Harry asked, gesturing to the destruction behind him.

“Yes, I will be able to heal, as will all of you,” Hogwarts said, clasping her hands again. “I cannot wait to be amongst my children again.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “You? Like this?”

Hogwarts nodded. “To those who need me.”

Harry suddenly flashed back to second year, hidden in Hagrid’s hut with Ron. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it,” he recited.

Hogwarts looked at him with that mixed expression again.

“He pretended it was about him, but it was you,” Harry said and she smiled. “Have you over the years? Helped those who asked?”

“Where I could,” Hogwarts said.

Harry ran through his memories, remembering some strange and unexplainable moments with a smile.

“My mothers and fathers also cannot wait to be free and among you.”

Harry blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”

“It is how it once was, how it is meant to be,” Hogwarts said. “I am their pride and joy after all.”

“Are you saying the Founders are ghosts and they used to roam the school?” Harry said, dumbfounded.

“And they will again,” Hogwarts said.

“They’re still here?” Harry said, eyebrows jumping.

“Yes. They were sealed away decades ago and the loss of the swords harmed them,” Hogwarts said.

Harry looked at her curiously before realizing. “The portraits. They’re not just paintings. That’s why they can impact the castle.”

Hogwarts nodded.

Harry gave a little laugh of amazement, shaking his head slightly. “Can they and you help us fight?”

Hogwarts gave him that soft smile again. “To the very end, my child.”

Harry stared at the two names on the Marauder’s Map floating in the headmaster’s office. He fiddled with his bracelet pendant and chewed his lip, anxious to see Severus’ name leave the office. He and Severus were supposed to be at the Bronze Dragon by now and the fact that Dumbledore had kept Severus in a private meeting for so long had Harry’s anxiety skyrocketing.

“Calm yourself, Hero. The headmaster remains unaware.”

Harry turned to the large frame, looking up at Ravenclaw. “How do you know?”

“We have begun to move around the castle. Salazar is in the office now, observing and listening. Your father remains safe,” Ravenclaw said.

“He won’t stay that way,” Harry muttered and looked back at the map only to find Severus’ name heading away from the headmaster’s office. He hurried out to the main chamber and breathed a sigh of relief when Severus came from a tunnel to his right. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Severus’ neck, not caring that he was sixteen and the situation had truly not been that dire.

“I’m fine, Harry,” Severus said, wrapping a single arm around Harry’s torso.

“What did he want?” Harry asked, pulling away.

“Just an excuse of a reporting meeting to Legilimize me,” Severus said and Harry’s eyes widened. “He saw nothing. Have some faith in me.”

“I do!” Harry said, huffing at his father’s smirk. “I’m just…he’s suspicious.”

“Yes, he is,” Severus said. “There is little more we can do about that.”

Harry dropped his eyes with a frown. He knew Severus was right, but it didn’t make him any less anxious about everything they were doing.

“Come, we have an appointment to keep,” Severus said.

Harry nodded and they headed down a recently opened tunnel that they discovered led to a cave just to the east of Hogsmeade. It was a long, mostly uphill trek, but also the safest way out of the castle. They were silent as they walked though, every now and then, Severus lightly touched the small of his back, either to comfort him or keep him moving. It was about twenty-five minutes later that they were heaving on a solid stone wall. It gave after several moments, a jagged cut-out of a doorway in the center of the wall. They slipped through, the door swinging seamlessly back into place, and hurried out of the cave. They found the small, barely-there footpath and followed it to the lights in the distance just a few kilometers away. They weaved through the empty village to the southern outskirts, ducking inside the Bronze Dragon with a touch of relief. Severus guided him to the usual table and they sat across from Riddle who, this time, had tea on the table.

“I was beginning to believe the worst,” Riddle said.

“Things aren’t exactly getting easier,” Harry said somewhat bitterly.

“Yes, of course,” Riddle said, bowing his head slightly. “My apologies.”

“Dumbledore is suspicious and watching us closely,” Severus said. “I have been subjected to much Legilimency in the past few weeks.”

“I am certainly glad you have the skill you do with the magic branch,” Riddle said and Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement of the praise.

“We’re trying to move fast, but we can only do so much,” Harry said. “Just trying to figure out where to look for anything is taking days and weeks.”

Riddle nodded, understanding, and curled his hands around his teacup. “I know and I am grateful for all you are doing, and I appreciate the risks you are taking. However, I believe that is why we are here this evening?”

Harry glanced at Severus who gave him a tiny nod and he pulled the diadem from his pocket, placing it on the table. They watched as Riddle reached out slowly, his slender hand trembling slightly as he carefully picked up the precious item. Upon contact, a shiver seemed to run through the man’s body. Harry couldn’t help but worry giving Riddle the horcruxes would turn him into the mad wizard from his memories, albeit false ones.

“Dumbledore sent me after this,” Harry said, pushing aside his concerns. “He’s expecting me to bring it to him so he can destroy it.”

“Which we cannot allow, of course,” Riddle said, still holding the diadem up to eye level.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “Is it possible to make a replica that I can pass off? It has to feel the same or he’ll know it’s a fake.”

Riddle hummed. “A complex task. I am unsure.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, anxious and frustrated. If Riddle couldn’t do this, they were completely screwed. Dumbledore would immediately know something was wrong and they would be destroyed in any manner of ways. He glanced out the window beside him at the dark village to try and keep his emotions under control. It wasn’t Riddle’s fault if nothing could be done. They would just have to think of something else.

“I may be able to do something that could make a replica possible,” Riddle said and Harry looked back at him.

He watched as Riddle hovered one hand beside the diadem and frowned as the item shimmered and what seemed to be thick black smoke began to seep from the crown. Riddle dropped his hand after only a few seconds and the smoke sank back into the diadem. Harry looked at him curiously.

“I can infuse a replica with the magic that infects this,” Riddle said. “The magic is the darkness that encompasses the diadem, not the soul fragment within.”

Harry found the comment fascinating. It was the magic that was dark, not the man.

“Will that work?” he asked. “What will happen when it’s destroyed?”

“I am uncertain. I have never attempted this,” Riddle said.

“But it’s the only option we’ve got,” Harry said with a sigh and Riddle nodded.

Riddle put the diadem to the side and placed a small satchel on the table instead. “First, you require these ingredients. I was able to get everything you asked for.”

Severus pulled the satchel to him and Harry watched him examine each of the nearly one dozen ingredients. After just a few seconds, Severus stopped his examination and nodded at Riddle. “Thank you.”

“I am glad you have a safer way to deal with the Mind Magic,” Riddle said. He grabbed the diadem again.

“Is there anything he could possibly do, even with a replica?” Harry asked, nervous destruction may not be Dumbledore’s only goal.

“All magic can be controlled and manipulated,” Riddle said. “There are many things he could do.”

Harry frowned. “Should we risk it?”

“We truly have no other choice,” Riddle said and Harry’s frown deepened at the bitter truth. “Do either of you have something to transfigure into a copy?”

Severus pulled out an empty vial from a random pocket and placed it on the table. Riddle pulled his wand and Harry tensed involuntarily. He knew the truth, but he still remembered Dumbledore’s fake memories and he remembered the numerous times that wand had supposedly been pointed at him.

He looked at Severus when the man put a hand on his knee, giving him a questioning look. He gave his father a small smile, receiving a squeeze to his leg before the hand was removed and he returned his attention to Riddle. As he refocused, he looked at the wand again and was stunned to see it was not exactly the wand he remembered. This wand was a pale, almost white wood with a slight bend to it and an intricate black and grey handle. There was no bone in sight.

He relaxed a little, able to watch Riddle change the vial into an exact copy of Ravenclaw’s diadem. It was precise, down to the smallest details. Riddle examined it closely before holding it with his left hand and hovering his right palm centimeters from it.

Harry watched, intrigued, as the same kind of thick black smoke that had been pulled from the horcrux began to leave Riddle’s hand. It swirled around the replica diadem, making small spots shimmer as though testing it for something. Enough of the smoky magic wrapped around the diadem, nearly concealing it from view. It wasn’t until the magic began to absorb into the diadem that he realized exactly what he was seeing.

Pure dark magic.

Harry sat back, feeling the need for some distance between him and Riddle. He realized that he’d let himself forget the things Riddle had done. Sure, he knew Riddle had been compelled to pursue dark magic and create the horcruxes, but he had still done the things required to achieve those things.

He had committed murder, multiple times. He had used the darkest magic that existed to split his soul and infect items with the result. Finally allowing himself to think about it, he found himself unsettled.

“That should do it,” Riddle said, placing the diadem on the table and pushing it across. Looking at the man, Harry couldn’t help but think Riddle knew exactly what he’d been thinking and feeling.

Harry reached across the table and picked up the replica, avoiding Riddle’s gaze. He grimaced inadvertently at the slick, oily feeling nearly leaking off the thing. He put it down quickly, hating to endure the essence for too long.

“Yeah, it feels the same,” Harry said. “What’ll happen when it’s destroyed?”

“I’ll likely have some impact on my magic, but it should not be anything too serious,” Riddle said.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a frown. “I have a bad feeling about this plan.”

“We are open to other suggestions,” Severus said and Harry scowled.

“You know I don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I like this one,” Harry said. He looked at Riddle. “Dumbledore’s hidden the horcruxes in places that mean something to you.”

“Places with meaning to me or to Voldemort?” Riddle said and Harry frowned.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, sighing. “We don’t know where to go next with the swords either. We’re trapped.”

“No, not trapped,” Riddle said, shaking his head. “You and your friends have done wonderfully. You have hit a wall, but we can get past it. I will think of possible locations for both horcruxes and swords, and I will share any ideas I come up with.”

Harry sighed and nodded. It would have to be enough.

“We must return,” Severus said, touching Harry’s shoulder.

Harry nodded again and got to his feet. Riddle placed the diadem replica in a burlap pouch and held it out for Harry to take.

“Thank you,” Riddle said quietly but earnestly as Harry took the pouch. Their eyes met and Harry inclined his head, feeling he was able to push past what had bothered him just moments before. Riddle had done awful, dark things, but he thought of what Riddle had said about the horcrux: the magic was dark, not the soul. Riddle could use dark magic, but Riddle himself was not dark. His soul, even split, was pure enough that he was a Hero of Hogwarts and Dumbledore’s longest victim. Giving Riddle a tiny tilt of his lips, he followed his father back to Hogwarts.

The next day found Harry standing before the griffin statue that would bring him to the headmaster’s office. He stared down at the burlap pouch in his hands, fiddling with the drawstrings nervously. He didn’t know what to expect when he gave the diadem replica to Dumbledore, but he was anxious. They were putting a lot of faith in Riddle and taking a huge risk with Dumbledore. If he sensed anything about the replica, they were doomed. The horcrux copy could be what revealed everything.

He blew out a deep breath and stepped onto the spiral stairs, muttering the password. He stepped off at the top and knocked on the door, bringing up his strongest mental shields and praying they would be enough.

“Enter.”

He closed his eyes briefly in dread before pushing into the office. He suppressed a shudder, finding it harder and harder to be around the headmaster. He hated having to keep playing along with the man’s sick game, putting all of their lives at risk. Though, he did prefer to be the one in front of Dumbledore right then so none of his friends had to face extra danger.

“Harry, what a surprise,” Dumbledore said in that overly kind voice and large smile that Harry could hardly believe he’d never seen through. “How can I help you, my boy?”

Holding back a look of disgust, he walked up to the desk and held out the pouch. “I’ve found something that should interest you. It was in the castle, as you suspected.”

He dropped the pouch on the desk and watched as the headmaster grabbed it. He hoped his tension wasn’t visible. The pouch was opened and a wrinkled hand disappeared inside, pulling out the shiny, silver diadem. Harry swallowed thickly, watching the headmaster examine the diadem from every angle. After several seconds, the blue eyes moved to him, sparkling with what Harry now knew was corruption and evil, not happiness and approval. Harry met the eyes steadily and waited. There was a small prod of Legilimency and he allowed the memory of the Room of Requirement to play, but concealed everything about Draco being a part of it.

“Excellent work, my boy,” Dumbledore praised. “You can feel Voldemort’s evil on it, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “I can feel the dark magic. It effects my scar as well,” he added, knowing any connection to Voldemort should hurt as per the lie. He was still meant to be convinced his scar connected him to Voldemort and caused him pain whenever Voldemort did something.

“An unfortunately sure way to confirm authenticity,” Dumbledore said.

“So, what do we do with it now?” Harry asked, a part of him loudly wondering if Dumbledore knew it was a fake.

“It must be destroyed if you are to kill him,” Dumbledore said and Harry fought to keep the scowl off his face at the reference to the fake prophecy. Clearly it had always been Dumbledore’s plan to tie him to the prophecy, convince him its fulfillment was all that mattered.

“How do we do that?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore stood and, waving Harry on to follow him, he walked to the back of his office. It wasn’t a part of the office Harry had ever been to and found it cluttered with shelves and odd instruments and little tables littered with all manner of items. Harry followed the man to a stone pedestal, not too different from what the Goblet of Fire had sat on, only smaller and with less intricate designs. He could make out strange runes arranged in odd, but likely telling ways. On top of the flat, octagonal surface was an intricate, delicate-looking golden hourglass with odd black and white wisps swirling inside, and what looked like a velvet pillow. It was an odd set-up, but Harry didn’t like the feeling he got deep inside as they approached. He watched as the diadem was placed on the pillow.

“It is difficult and dangerous to destroy a horcrux, my boy,” Dumbledore said.

Harry had to stop himself from scowling. He really wished the man would stop calling him that.

“The magic must be removed before the horcrux and, by extension, the soul fragment can be destroyed. If the magic is left in the horcrux, it allows the soul fragment to survive destruction and search for a new host,” Dumbledore explained and Harry really wished he knew more about horcruxes so he knew if the man was telling the truth or not. “This hourglass neutralizes and holds dark magic, necessary for such powerful magic as this.”

Harry stepped closer to examine the hourglass. The metal that wound around the hourglass, creating its bases and handles, was made of shiny gold and cut into what looked like braided ropes twisted together elegantly. The glass itself had what looked like very lightly frosted runes all over, but not enough to hide the glimmer, almost smoke-like black and white wisps that snaked up and down through both ends of the hourglass. He felt a tug in his chest and frowned. There was definitely something odd about the hourglass. Not something bad, but something extraordinarily important in the hands of someone extraordinarily evil.

Harry looked sidelong at Dumbledore, more unsettled than before.

“I believe your assistance will be helpful in this matter,” Dumbledore said.

Harry frowned at him.

“Because of your connection with Voldemort, you will be able to help draw the magic into the hourglass,” Dumbledore said. “All you need to do is place your hand on top of the hourglass. I and the magic will do the rest.”

Harry was sure he didn’t believe a word the man had said, but knew he couldn’t refuse. It would be far too suspicious if he refused to be a part of this or do as Dumbledore asked. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. However, it was necessary. So, he nodded and placed his palm on top of the hourglass, instantly feeling a strange hum. Dumbledore gave him a smile that he once would have returned, but now made his stomach twist. He watched the headmaster hover his hands on either side of the diadem and begin murmuring under his breath. The same thick, black smoke he’d watched Riddle manipulate began to leave the diadem and, as soon as it started moving towards the hourglass, pain exploded in Harry’s head and chest.

He let out a cry that turned into a gasp as it began to feel like he couldn’t breathe. He made to move his hand from the hourglass, but found he was inexplicably stuck. He fell to his knees, his arm craned awkwardly above him as his hand still refused to release the hourglass. He screamed between gasps for air, his chest continuing to pulse with pain and agony ripping through his scar. His free hand curled against the stone and tears hovered in the corner of his eyes. He so badly wanted to scream for Severus, for his father, wanting a release from the pain, but he remained just coherent enough to hold back.

He had no idea how long it lasted, but, eventually, it all stopped and he collapsed more fully to the floor as his hand came free from the hourglass. There was still a lingering ache in his chest as he heaved in air and a sharp sting in his scar.

Hands cupped his face and he immediately flinched violently, wanting release. The hands held, however, and his head was forced up, eyes guided to those of the headmaster. He instantly felt the prod of Legilimency and fought the presence. Dumbledore dodged his ejection attempts, rooting through his thoughts and memories, fuzzy from whatever had just happened. He threw up mini shields anytime the man seemed to focus, only for Severus to flash in his mind. Terrified, Harry slammed up his walls despite his exhaustion and threw Dumbledore out of his mind, dropping his head, both in pain and to prevent more Legilimency. He could feel himself shaking, a combination of all that had just happened. He needed to get out, needed to get to the others…to Severus. He may have just screwed up everything for them.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, moving his hands to Harry’s shoulders as though he hadn’t just invaded Harry’s mind and encountered walls that hadn’t been there before.

How badly he wanted to shove the man away from him. He couldn’t take much more of this. He took a shuddering breath and forced himself back into his role.

“What…what happened?” he gasped out. “Is it gone?”

“Yes, it is destroyed,” Dumbledore said. “It put up a fight and tried to draw strength from you or perhaps get you to save it. That caused the pull you likely felt. The pain was having his magic touch you. It acts much like his physical touch.”

Harry wanted to snort at the fact that Dumbledore truly had his story covering all the bases. The man was an evil bastard, but he’d created a truly complex, all-encompassing story for the reality he’d made. He pushed it aside to stay in his role, sitting up and finally dislodging the headmaster’s hands.

“I’m alright, sir,” Harry said. “I’m just glad it worked.” That’s what Dumbledore would be looking for; him willing to go through anything to achieve Voldemort’s end.

Dumbledore smiled at him. “As am I, my boy. Good work on deducing its location.”

“Places that matter to him, right?” Harry said and Dumbledore nodded. “Have you found any others?”

“Not yet, but I believe I may be close on another,” Dumbledore said and Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “I will tell you once I am sure.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said and he climbed shakily to his feet. He glanced at the pedestal. The diadem was in tiny pieces on the velvet pillow and there was a marked increase in both black and white wisps in the hourglass. They were also moving more vigorously. He winced at the slight pull he felt again in his still aching chest. “Um, I…I think I should go, Professor. Get…get some rest.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dumbledore said. “I thank you for your assistance. On your way now, my boy.”

“Yes, sir. Good night,” Harry said, leaving the office as fast as possible without being suspicious. As soon as the griffin turned enough that he could slip off the stairs, dashing down the corridor and through the school. He raced down stairs and corridors, skidding onto the fourth floor where a huge mirror hung in a dead end. He was grateful they’d finally managed to clear the fourth and last entrance into the Chamber of Secrets. He stood in front of the mirror, gazing at himself in its foggy reflection for a split second.

‘Reveal,’ he hissed and watched the reflective surface shimmer and tremble, becoming a deep blue with a jelly-like consistency in appearance. He glanced around and stepped through, feeling the cool, softened glass slide along him as he passed. Once through and in the hidden corridor, the mirror turned back to normal, showing the other side like a window.

Harry took a minute to catch his breath and try to calm down, knowing he would only cause panic if he showed he was panicking. He touched his bracelet’s pendant and pushed a bit of magic into it to write his message and send it to the correct recipient.

DAD!

He frowned slightly. Apparently, his magic had interpreted his emotions more than his thoughts. Severus was definitely going to panic now.

Sighing to himself, he started walking. The corridor was long and winding and on a fairly steep decline for most of it. Eventually, it ended, turning into two branching tunnels. To the right was yet another passage to Hogsmeade while the left led to the Chamber. He turned to the left, the tunnel quickly making it clear he was now deep beneath the castle. It soon changed again to match the Chamber’s tunnels and he was finally emerging into the main chamber through a path guarded by the snake statues that lined the start of the Chamber. He walked up, watching Slytherin come into view as well as a frantically pacing Severus.

He sighed again and approached his father, fully expecting the rough grab and shake of his shoulders that he received.

“Dad, I’m okay,” he tried.

“What happened?” Severus growled, eyes raking Harry up and down.

“Dumbledore destroyed the diadem,” Harry said. “He did something, though, like what Riddle did. He pulled the magic out of the diadem and put it in this hourglass that he made me touch. It hurt a lot, my scar and my chest, and he Legilimized me. He…he saw you! In my mind! I…I tried, but it hurt so much and I was so…drained!” His panic had returned by the time he finished and his fingers were like claws in Severus’ forearms. Ironically, while his panic returned, Severus’ seemed to have eased.

“Come, child,” Severus said quietly and forced Harry to release him. He draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and guided him to the Founders’ Library, sitting them on the sofa. He turned them to face each other, letting a hand rest on Harry’s still shaking knee, though he hadn’t actually noticed the shaking. “Calm yourself so you can tell me everything.”

Harry nodded and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. Severus’ hand moved to his back, a warm, steady weight that helped him focus. He took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his breathing and shaking, wincing at the slight pains he still felt. Finally, he felt calmer and raised his head.

“Better?” Severus asked and he nodded. “Good, now, tell me what happened.”

“He destroyed the diadem, but, before he did, he took the magic out of it, like what Riddle did. He said the magic had to be removed or, when a horcrux is destroyed, the soul piece uses the magic to attach to another host. He put the magic into a weird hourglass which he made me touch, said my connection to Voldemort meant I could help guide the magic into the hourglass. It hurt, though, a lot,” Harry explained. “Whatever he did, it made my scar hurt like in the graveyard and the possession. My chest hurt, too, and it was hard to breathe. He Legilimized me after and I…I couldn’t keep him out. I tried, but he saw you before I could throw him out. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Do not apologize. You were weakened by whatever he did to you. Did he see anything specific?” Severus asked, placing his hand over Harry’s clasped ones, stopping their wringing.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “I think it was just a flash.”

“It could mean anything to him then,” Severus said. “Me being on your mind is not suspicious in and of itself.”

Harry nodded, knowing Severus was right, about that at least. “We need to talk to Riddle again. The hourglass…Dad, something’s wrong. Really wrong.”

“We will write him,” Severus said. “How are you feeling?” He raised a hand and brushed Harry’s hair aside, lightly touching the scar.

“A little better,” Harry said. “Nothing hurts much anymore, but I feel a little weird from whatever he did with the hourglass.”

“Weird how?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. It felt like something was…pulling inside my chest, and there’s still a slight tugging and I feel drained.”

Severus’ face grew grave which did nothing to keep Harry’s nerves calm. “I agree. We must meet with Riddle. Come.”

Harry jumped up and followed Severus to the Mind Room. He instantly scrawled a message in the communication journal.

Urgent. Need to meet ASAP.

“I think we should give him a bracelet,” Harry said as they waited anxiously for a response. “We need to be able to talk to him quicker now. There’s too much going on now and I think he’s proven we can trust him.”

“I suppose he has,” Severus said, “and I do have all my memories. He has, indeed, been trying to help all these years. Very well, I will make another.”

Harry gave him a small smile and turned back to the journal where a response had appeared.

The Dragon in one hour. Are you safe?

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about Riddle’s apparent concern for them.

Unsure, he quickly scrawled.

Thirty minutes then.

“Half hour at the Dragon,” he said, dropping the quill and turning to his father who was just finishing up putting a Galleon on a string. “He seems worried.”

“I imagine he does not enjoy having so little he can do knowing the risks we must take,” Severus said. “Remember, he has been trying to deal with this alone for fifty years.”

“Right,” Harry said. He frequently forgot Riddle’s true age as the horcruxes had stopped his aging, making him appear only about twenty-five or thirty at the oldest.

“Come on,” Severus said, putting the bracelet in his pocket and grasping Harry’s shoulder to guide him from the Mind Room.

They hurried through one of the passages to Hogsmeade, making a direct beeline for the Bronze Dragon upon their arrival. Despite being earlier than the arranged thirty minutes, Riddle was already there at their usual table. There was far less anxiety sliding into their seats across from him now than there used to be. Harry did find it interesting and odd, though, that there was never anyone else in the pub except the bartender.

“Something has happened,” Riddle said, looking at them with very clearly concerned eyes.

Severus nodded and gestured for Harry to speak.

“I gave the diadem to Dumbledore and he destroyed it,” Harry said.

“I felt a pull on my magic, so I assumed that’s what had happened,” Riddle said.

“He did something, though, before destroying it,” Harry said and Riddle looked at him curiously. “He pulled the magic out of it and put it in this hourglass that he—”

“Hourglass?” Riddle said sharply.

Harry frowned. “Yeah, an hourglass.”

Riddle waved his hand over the tabletop and a drawing appeared, etched into the wood. “Did it look like this?” he asked, pointing at his drawing.

Harry looked. “Yeah, exactly like that. How do you—”

“He made you touch it and you felt pain in your chest?” Riddle said.

Harry’s frown deepened. “Yes.”

Riddle waved his hand again and the drawing disappeared. His face was suddenly extremely tight. “It would seem we have a new problem, possibly worse than what we already face.”

Harry looked at Severus, alarmed. “What else could there possibly be?”

“Dumbledore is apparently trying to replace the Founders’ magic at Hogwarts,” Riddle said and Harry’s eyes widened. “That is what the hourglass does. It combines magic and holds it, and is used to replenish or replace the magic that sustains Hogwarts. The magic of four people is combined and creates a magic with specific intent based on what the ‘base’ or ‘foundation’ witch or wizard wants.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Harry demanded. “And what about the core, the swords?”

“The Founders combined their magic to create the specific magic of Hogwarts. This magic makes Hogwarts into what they wanted the school to be,” Riddle explained.

“Home,” Harry said and Riddle nodded.

“Which is why the magic at Hogwarts has always been to help and protect,” Riddle said. “However, Dumbledore could replace that magic with his own creation and intent. If Dumbledore were to do this, the swords would no longer matter. The hourglass created the intent for Hogwarts, but the swords tie the magic to the school. Dumbledore would have to tie the magic he creates to objects the way the Founders did the swords.”

“Control,” Severus said and Riddle nodded again.

“You said four people were needed,” Harry said. “Who is doing this with him?”

“The other participants are not voluntary, which will only make his specific magic creation stronger,” Riddle said. “We have each been marked by him and exist alongside him as the most powerful wizards alive.”

“But how?” Harry said. “How can he make us be involved?”

“Our marks,” Riddle said. “He can use them to pull our magic from us. Anytime he has used our marks, he has drained some of our magic, enough that it replenishes on its own and we haven’t noticed. This has likely been a backup plan of his for some time, a contingency if it were ever needed.”

“Why hasn’t he replaced the magic then if he knew he could?” Harry asked.

“He likely does not have enough of our magic and he would have wanted to keep Hogwarts feeling the same so no one noticed what was happening,” Riddle said. “He will wait for the right moment now and use our marks to drain us of our magic.”

“How will we know?”

“When the pain in our marks becomes unbearable.”

Harry put his head in his hands, hardly able to believe the newest development. “Why? Why would he do this? He’s had the Founders’ magic under his control all this time.”

“Because the Founders’ magic is failing and that would not be a problem if Hogwarts’ magic was his magic.”

“The ultimate control,” Severus said. “He would never have to worry about what is currently happening again.”

Harry looked up as a horrifying realization crashed over him. “Does this mean…does he…know?”

Riddle met his eyes, brown hard and serious. “It is very likely.”

“I am deeply saddened to inform you of the unfortunate passing of both Robert Stobey and Daphne Greengrass…”

Harry screamed in rage as he picked up handfuls of parchments and threw them as hard as possible, scattering them throughout the Library. He grabbed books—priceless and delicate tomes—and chucked them against the stone walls, a couple so hard their spines completely broke and pages exploded out of them. Tears poured down his face and magic crackled in the air, seeping out of him. He ignored the Founders crowded into their frame trying to console him and the burning of his pendant with desperate messages on his wrist.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t live with letting people die. He couldn’t keep fighting when it wasn’t making a difference. He couldn’t be the only one that knew the truth. He didn’t want to know anymore!

“Potter!”

He spun, fully prepared to curse whoever was stupid enough to be there, but faltered when he found Draco. The Slytherin’s eyes were wide with concern and Harry choked on a sob because Draco didn’t even remember, but was still worried about him. Draco didn’t know and he couldn’t leave his brother like that. Now he did know, he wanted—needed—his life and family back.

Draco had slowly stepped closer and Harry threw his arms around the boy’s neck, holding tight as Draco stumbled slightly at the impact. He could feel the Slytherin’s hands fluttering, unsure what to do, before, eventually, settling lightly on his back.

They stood in their embrace for a long while, Harry reminding himself why he had to keep going. He was grateful that, even without his memories, Draco willingly stayed in their embrace, clearly sensing what Harry needed. Eventually, Harry stepped back, releasing Draco who was still watching him with concern and now a touch of confusion.

“Thanks,” Harry said with a small smile and then gazed around the Library. He sighed at the mess of parchments and damaged books. He looked up at the Founders. “Sorry.”

“We, too, are devastated at the loss of more of our precious children,” Hufflepuff said, her face sad.

Harry was rocked with another wave of pain.

“You must continue your task,” Gryffindor said.

“It is still worth it,” Slytherin said.

Harry sighed again and nodded.

“Do not lose hope,” Ravenclaw said, “but, if you do, we have more than enough for you.”

Harry gave them a small smile, warm with their faith. He turned to the mess he’d made and began moving around, slowly picking up the victims of his rage and grief. He looked over his shoulder and found Draco helping collect the parchments and books, gathering the multitude of pages that had fallen from the broken books. They worked quietly, Draco eventually sitting to put book pages back in order.

“Did you know we’re supposed to be able to go into each other’s common rooms and dorms?” Harry said, breaking the silence suddenly and making Draco’s head pop up.

“What?” Draco said, frowning in confusion.

Harry gave a half-smile. “We’re supposed to be able to go into each other’s dorms,” he repeated. “You’ve been in Gryffindor Tower.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the slight look of disgust that crossed the Slytherin’s face.

“You’re serious?” Draco said.

Harry nodded. “You came up after the third task, after…Cedric,” he said, losing himself temporarily in the graveyard once again. “That was the last time anyway. Fourth year was the last time any Mind Magic was broken until this year.”

“I wish I remembered,” Draco said, shuffling through pages slightly aggressively.

“I know,” Harry said sympathetically. “I do too.”

“Everything alright in here, boys?”

Harry and Draco looked at the doorway to find Severus looking at them with a raised eyebrow. Harry saw Draco wince and figured he likely had a memory flash as Severus often referred to them as ‘boys’ in that fond, often amused tone. He caught the flash in Severus’ eye and knew his father had recognized the same thing. He knew what it was like to be around his father and brother and not have them remember him, but what was it like for Severus not to have his son remember him? He felt his face fall.

“We’re fine, Professor,” Harry said somewhat dully. “I lost it a bit at the…news and Dr-Malfoy was just helping me clean up.”

More pain as well as understanding passed through Severus’ eyes. “Very well. I must ask you to resume later as now is an opportune time to brew the Dream Chasing potion.”

Harry perked up. It had been a week and a half since his experience with Dumbledore and the hourglass. Knowing their magic could be drained through their marks, Harry and Severus had become desperate to finally attempt Dream Chasing. However, Dumbledore had been keeping Severus extra busy as well as the both of them in periodic pain to try and distract them. They needed Severus to get through as much of the complex potion as possible before entrusting it to Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Luna. It was an eleven-hour process with virtually no room for error on timing, technique, or ingredient.

“Come,” Severus said and led the way to yet another secret of the Chamber they had discovered a few weeks earlier: Slytherin’s personal lab. It had been an extraordinary find and an overwhelming surprise for Severus who, for the first time ever, had been rendered speechless.

“How long have you got?” Harry asked as they wound through tunnels.

“Five hours at most,” Severus said. “Dumbledore has gone to the Ministry and I have claimed a need to brew personal and infirmary restock, but that never takes longer than five hours.”

“Will he come see you while you’re supposed to be brewing?” Harry asked.

Severus shook his head. “No, he knows I do not respond to visitors while brewing.”

“So, we have to cover six hours of the brew time,” Draco said. “That’s not terrible.”

“The complexity will likely change your mind,” Severus said and they turned into a room.

There was a single large, long table with a large, dark cauldron set up. The rounded walls had shelves of ingredients, perfectly preserved for a thousand years. A couple of other cauldrons sat in a cupboard with different tools that were all drastically different from what they used in class. Hermione and Luna were already there and gave them smiles as they entered. They all moved to stand in front of the table while Severus stood behind the cauldron.

“As I have told Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I can dedicate five hours of my time to this potion without my absence being noticed,” Severus began. “I have the remaining six hours already divided between you according to your skills. Mr. Malfoy will be the first to take over and will brew for two hours. Ms. Granger, you will be second and brew for an hour and forty-five minutes. Mr. Potter and Ms. Lovegood, you will work together to finish off the potion, brewing for two hours and fifteen minutes.”

They all nodded at him, understanding.

“I will have the ingredients prepared and set out with clear labels,” Severus continued. “I will also have a timer set to help as this potion is very particular in its timing.”

They all nodded again.

“This potion is volatile,” Severus said. “As such, I strongly recommend Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger bring someone trustworthy to your sessions so you have assistance in the event something goes wrong.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said while Draco nodded.

“When you have twenty minutes left in your session, use the bracelet to message the next brewer,” Severus said, “and when you get your message, you must come here immediately.”

They looked at each other and Severus seriously, feeling the weight of the task. Harry shifted uncomfortably as nerves began twisting his stomach.

“As you will each be disappearing for extended periods, it is important that you act normal, but make sure you are seen until you are called for your session,” Severus said. “However, before you go and I begin, I will go through the potion and your section with each of you. If you are confused about anything, you must ask your questions now. I will be unable to respond to messages or come down here to help. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“Very good,” Severus said. “Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco circled the table to stand next to Severus and the man began to explain each step of the potion in depth. Hermione and Luna started up a quiet conversation and Harry wandered to the doorway. He leaned against the circular opening and surreptitiously—he hoped—rubbed his prickling scar. It was a constant feeling now and it kept him on edge, just waiting for the explosion of pain that would indicate his magic being drained. It seemed like it had become a battle between him and Dumbledore, trying to make the other slip up that they knew what was going on while pretending they didn’t know a thing. He was so afraid of what could happen if Dumbledore found out they knew or decided to act on what he already knew. He was terrified of losing his friends, his brother, his father. He didn’t know how to protect them and he didn’t know how much longer they had to try and fix everything.

He sighed and rubbed his scar again, slightly more aggressively.

“Mr. Potter and Ms. Lovegood,” Severus said.

Harry turned, managing to catch the concern in Severus’ eyes as his father looked at him. He gave the man a tiny smile and crossed the lab to stand beside Severus and Luna. He put all of his focus on Severus’ explanation of the fifteen directions he and Luna would have to follow to complete the potion. They both asked questions and clarified details, but it seemed to do nothing more than increase the anxious twisting of his stomach. It was hovering on the edge of painful now and he was feeling ill.

“What do we do when the potion is complete, Professor?” Luna asked.

“Summon me immediately,” Severus said. “It will be after three in the morning and I do not want you to risk wandering the halls.”

“I can bring my invisibility cloak,” Harry said. “Luna can use it to get back to Ravenclaw and I can stay down here. Out after curfew is normal for me so Dumbledore won’t find it strange.”

Severus gave him a look of disapproval before giving a sharp nod. “Very well, but still summon me so I can take care of the potion.”

Harry and Luna nodded their agreement.

“Any other questions?” Severus asked and they all shook their heads. “Then go, be seen, but be ready for your section.”

Hermione, Draco, and Luna left, discussing the plan and schedule. It sounded like they were coming up with ideas for where they could each go that were normal for them, would allow them to be seen, but would also keep them close to a Chamber entrance. It wasn’t long before their voices faded away to nothing.

“Harry?” Severus said and he looked up at his father before dropping his eyes to the work station.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Harry said, looking over the twenty-three ingredients waiting to be prepared and the parchments that held the rewritten forty-eight steps.

“It is your idea, if I recall,” Severus said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good one,” Harry said. “My ideas are rarely good ones. Surely you remember.”

“The ideas of children are often lacking, but you have had many good ideas. The majority of the negative consequences were not purely a result of your ideas, but due to Dumbledore’s machinations,” Severus said.

“Maybe, but, this,” Harry said, gesturing at the station. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m no good at Potions, you know that. I’m not good enough—”

“No more of that,” Severus interrupted and pulled over a stool to sit on, making him eye level with Harry. He held out his hands and Harry allowed his to be grabbed gently, but firmly, and allowed the gentle tugging that brought him into his father’s space. “I have complete faith in you and in your friends. While we have no other choice, this idea of yours is also our best choice. You are good enough, child. You have always been good enough.”

Harry stared into Severus’ dark eyes, his own slightly teary from, first, his anxiety and, now, from his father’s conviction in him. He nodded and wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck, the man’s arms instantly coming around him. He smiled into his father’s shoulder when he felt the kiss pressed to his temple.

“You must go now,” Severus said. “I must get started.”

Harry nodded against Severus’ shoulder, squeezed once more, and then stepped back. He smiled at the hand that cupped his cheek.

“Go,” Severus said quietly and released him.

Harry watched his father get to work for a moment before leaving. He headed out the tunnel that would bring him out to the mirror on the fourth floor near History of Magic. He stepped through the mirror when the corridor was empty and began the walk up to Gryffindor Tower, his mind still in the Chamber with his father. He trusted Severus’ skills as a Potions Master, but he was still worried. Severus had said it was one of the most complicated potions he’d ever encountered and over half of it had to be brewed by students.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and was about to turn down the corridor that would take him to the part of the Grand Staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower when he heard a loud moan. He stopped and frowned, gazing down the continuation of the corridor. It was an empty hall, devoid of statues, suits of armour, and portraits, and there were no other students. Confused, he continued down the hall only to stop in his tracks as he rounded the corner, his eyes wide.

In the middle of the hall was a ghost, a young man who looked to be from Victorian times and the upper class. Other students were around, staring at the ghost in horror. The ghost seemed to be fading in and out of existence all while seemingly acting out the most horrible scene. There was no one else with him and no weapons, yet it was obvious that the man was being stabbed over and over, his arms and legs apparently restrained in a spread-eagle fashion. The ghost was screaming and moaning with every stab until it stopped and he stared, eyes dead. harry and the others jumped when, a few seconds later, the ghost’s eyes widened and he let out an unearthly scream before dissolving into the air, the echo of his scream fading away with him.

Most of the other students scurried off, some in tears, while Harry stood, frozen, and staring at where the ghost had been.

What the hell had just happened?

“Oh, poor Daniel.”

Harry spun around at the voice, startled to find Nearly Headless Nick floating behind him, his pearly white face sad.

“What happened?” Harry asked, glancing back down the hall.

“That was a ghost death,” Nick said.

“But you’re already dead,” Harry said pointedly.

“Yes, but we still exist on this plane in this form,” Nick said. “That is what happens when a ghost is forced to move on before they are ready.”

“What can do that?” Harry asked.

“There are several reasons for a ghost’s existence and the location of their haunt,” Nick said. “Ghosts are often born of regret and great violence. The location of a haunt can be the place of death, the place of burial, the tie to a physical object, or simply due to the magic level. That last one is why many of the ghosts are here at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, that also means the magic here is their only tie to this world.”

“Wait, so, because the magic is failing, ghosts are going to…die?” Harry said and Nick nodded. “Can they come back?”

“No, dear boy. Ghost death is final,” Nick said, his tone regretful.

“What about the Founders?” Harry said, thinking of the portraits deep below him where the Founders’ ghosts were bound. “It’s their magic. What happens to them?”

“I am unsure,” Nick said. “It is their magic, but they are connected to the school itself as well as they were buried here.”

Harry looked at Nick sharply. “What? Where?”

“I don’t know, dear boy,” Nick said. “No one has ever found their graves.”

Nick floated away, lamenting the loss of ‘poor, poor Daniel’, while Harry watched, his mind racing. He ran the way he had come, but headed down the Grand Staircase to reach the second floor with the library. He dashed through, ignoring the admonishments of Madam Pince, until he found Hermione at a table surrounded by books. She jumped as he pulled out a chair and sat beside her.

“Harry!” she gasped. “Is everything okay?”

“Did you know the Founders were buried here at the school?” Harry asked, ignoring her concern.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “They were? I’ve never come across anything like that.”

“Nick just told me,” Harry said. “He doesn’t know where, but he said they’re here on the grounds.”

“How strange it wouldn’t be in Hogwarts, A History or the Founders’ Compendium,” Hermione said. “Say they are, why would it matter?”

“Maybe something was hidden there, a sword or a horcrux,” Harry said.

“Would Dumbledore really have another of either one so close to the school?” Hermione asked.

“If no one else has ever known about it, definitely,” Harry said. “Six years and it’s never been mentioned by anyone. Even the Chamber of Secrets was mentioned. Even the ghosts don’t know anything about this.”

“That does make it a likely hiding place,” Hermione conceded thoughtfully, “but, if it does exist and no one knows about it, how do we find it?”

Harry sat back in a slump and with a sigh. That did seem to keep being the question, didn’t it?

Harry put a hand back and on Luna’s arm to press her against the wall and make them both freeze as McGonagall brushed past them. He watched the professor until she had turned a corner out of sight before removing his hand from Luna. He gestured to keep moving and they moved their way through the corridors as quick as possible while crouched awkwardly and Luna nearly on his heels to ensure they remained covered by the invisibility cloak. They dipped into an alcove and slipped through the false wall at the back, stepping into a short corridor made of sand-coloured bricks inscribed with hieroglyphs. Safe in the Hieroglyphic Hall, Harry pulled the cloak off of them, allowing them to straighten and for Luna to release his jumper, taking a step back. She placed her palm over an inscribed Ouroboros with green and silver on the tips of each scale. There was no clear reaction, but Harry knew the snake would have spun in a circle under her hand. There was a quiet click and Luna pulled her hand away. The stone in the center of the Ouroboros had sunk in and she was able to hook her fingers in, pulling a small rectangle of the wall open like a door.

They slipped through and quickly descended the seemingly never-ending stairs. Finally, they reached the bottom and walked easily through the false wall into a random, empty Chamber room. They hurried through the tunnels, depositing the cloak in the Library and continuing onto the lab.

It was extraordinarily warm considering how far underground they were, making Harry roll up the sleeves of his jumper and Luna pulled her hair into a high ponytail. A blue smoke was filling the room as it wafted over the sides of the obsidian cauldron. Hermione, her hair also pulled back, was performing a complicated stirring pattern while adding a vial of something clear one drop at a time with each completion of the pattern.

None of them spoke, letting Hermione finish up her portion of the brewing. Harry let his eyes roam over the remaining ingredients, trying to identify them from where he was and remember what had to be done with each. He couldn’t mess this up. They needed this potion and he couldn’t disappoint Severus.

A sharp ringing echoed in the room and Harry looked at Hermione and the cauldron. The smoke had disappeared and the fire beneath the cauldron lowered, leaving the potion inside simmering on a nearly black colour.

“You have some time before your portion starts,” Hermione said. “The alarm will go off again in eight minutes and twenty-one seconds. It’s been going well so far. Professor Snape’s preparation for us has been wonderful.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said, he and Luna moving to take her place behind the cauldron. “Make sure to check the map.”

“I will,” Hermione said. “Good night and good luck.”

Harry turned his attention to the directions, taking the remaining six minutes to read them carefully. Luna would be responsible for stirring and the heat while Harry would be responsible for adding the ingredients. Many of their steps were separated by mere seconds and dividing the work allowed them to give their dull focus to each task rather than one of them trying to juggle everything.

The alarm went off and they jumped in, Harry reading their first step clearly while they both moved smoothly to complete it while he spoke. They continued on in the same manner, making their way through the seconds and minutes, the patterns and temperatures. Slowly, but steadily, the ingredients disappeared.

Heads of pansies…raven feathers…grated ginseng…dried, smoked, and burned sage…powdered fluorite…liquified lapis lazuli…shredded forget-me-nots…crushed obsidian…eyes of the glawakus…

They watched the colour of the potion change, growing steadily lighter until it was a lavender shade and a purple haze filled the lab. He added the final ingredient—the eyes—and watched Luna stir in a clockwise circle with a cross inside—the Ailm from Celtic lore, he’d learned—while lowering the fire by a degree after every completed cycle. Eventually, the fire was out and the final alarm sounded, marking the end of the process.

Luna stepped back, pushing damp hair out of her eyes, and Harry let himself sink onto the stool next to him. They had managed it, had succeeded at helping to brew a complex potion that would help save them.

“We should call for the professor, Harry,” Luna said, breaking through Harry’s exhaustion.

“Right,” Harry said and pressed two fingers to his pendant, creating a message and sending it to Severus.

Finished.

“You did very well,” Luna said as they waited for Severus.

“Thanks, Luna, so did you,” Harry said with a tired smile.

They settled into a calm quiet, both tired from the late hour and over two hours of intense brewing. Harry propped an elbow on the tabletop and rested his head in his hand, letting his eyes flutter. It wasn’t long before footsteps broke their sleepy lull and they looked up as Severus entered the lab. He immediately crossed to the cauldron, gazing in and dipping a ladle in to test the viscosity.

“Excellent work,” Severus said and Harry smiled at the praise. No matter what, the sentiment was rare to receive. “Return to your dorm now, Miss Lovegood. Get some sleep. Thank you for your assistance.”

“You’re very welcome, Professor,” Luna said with a smile. “Good night.”

“Remember the cloak, Luna,” Harry said and she nodded as she left the lab. Harry rubbed his burning eyes under his glasses, the scratchiness indicative of desperately wanting sleep.

“Come on, Harry, you need to sleep,” Severus said in a low voice and his hand landed on Harry’s shoulder, tugging gently to make him leave his stool.

“The potion,” Harry argued half-heartedly even as he allowed himself to be guided around the table.

“It’s fine,” Severus said. “I’ll come back to bottle it once you are sleeping.”

Harry just nodded, fitting against Severus’ side as his father’s arm fell around his shoulders, hand rubbing his arm. He let himself be led to the Library and dropped onto the sofa. He grabbed a couple of the pillows and let his head fall heavily onto them, briefly burying his face while curling his arms around the pillow and squeezing.

He heard a deep chuckle and turned his head to squint up at his father. His glasses were pulled off along with his shoes before a blanket was draped over him. He glanced at it curiously.

“Hogwarts always knows what we need,” Severus said quietly in explanation.

Harry just hummed, burrowing and letting his eyes close to another quiet chuckle.

“Sleep, my son,” Severus whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of his head. “You did well.”

Harry smiled into the pillow and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Harry’s eyes grew wide as he realized he was suspended from the ceiling, shackles around his wrists and keeping him just on his toes. In front of him was Severus, knelt on the stone floor and his head bowed. Towering over Severus was Voldemort, red eyes blazing down at Severus from his snake-like face. Harry shook his head and struggled against his chains. This wasn’t real. Voldemort wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be!

“You are mine, are you not, Severus?” Voldemort said, hissing Severus’ name.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus said.

“I want you to prove it,” Voldemort said.

“Anything you wish, my lord,” Severus said.

Harry fought his bonds, heart pounding at what was going to happen while still trying to tell himself it couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare created by Dumbledore so he had to wake up. It would be nothing but a bad dream if he just woke up.

“Crucio!” Voldemort snarled and Severus’ body shook violently under the onslaught.

“No! Stop it!” Harry cried, pulling violently at his chains and feeling them break his skin. “This isn’t real!” 

“Oh, isn’t it?” Voldemort drawled, cancelling the curse on Severus. “Dear Severus, show our guest that this is very real.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Harry watched with wide eyes as Severus stood and walked over to him until they were face to face.

“Dad,” Harry said. “Dad, please.”

“It would seem you are delusional, Potter,” Severus sneered.

Harry flinched at the derision and looked into Severus’ eyes. There was an emptiness there and Harry knew it was Dumbledore. The headmaster had to be using Severus’ mark and his scar, manipulating their minds. He needed to wake up, to break the connection, to stop the control and manipulation.

“Please, don’t,” Harry whispered pleadingly.

“Crucio,” Severus snapped and Harry screamed at the agony burning down to his very core. He gasped out a breath when the curse ended, slumping in his chains.

“Yes, Severus,” Voldemort hissed as he came up behind Severus. “You will do anything I ask, anything to prove your loyalty.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do you see, Harry?”

Harry raised his head when he realized the voice had changed. He glared hatefully as he met the eyes of Dumbledore over Severus’ shoulder. He pulled at his shackles again.

“You are trapped in my world and I can easily take everything from you,” Dumbledore said. “You cannot win this fight. You are destined to fulfill the role I have given you. Refuse and I destroy everything you hold dear.”

Dumbledore raised his wand and Severus fell to his knees, trembling under the Cruciatus. Harry bit his lip to stop from screaming on behalf of his father, torn apart having to watch his torment. Harry moved his eyes back to the headmaster, glaring at the smirk on the wrinkled face.

“If you know everything, why the games? Why not just end me right now?” Harry said angrily.

The sneering grin that crossed Dumbledore’s face made Harry’s skin crawl, a shudder running up his spine.

“Don’t you know, my dear boy?” Dumbledore said, stepping up so he could talk directly into Harry’s ear. “Crushing your hope will make the end of this game…delicious. You belong to me and your end is inevitable.”

“Now who’s delusional?” Harry spat.

“Have your fun,” Dumbledore said, stepping back, “but you will fail. Your quest is fruitless and your hope worthless, just like you. Accept your place.”

Harry glowered, but then his eyes fell shut as another Cruciatus set him on fire and he screamed, tears pouring down his face.

“Dad!”

“Harry!”

“Dad!”

“Harry, wake up!”

Harry’s eyes flew open, but just long enough to find Severus over him before they slammed shut again at the pain in his scar. He couldn’t help but keep screaming, the only response he could muster up for the pain. He thought he heard voices, but couldn’t make out words and was hardly aware when he was lifted into Severus’ arms. He could tell he was being brought somewhere, but he couldn’t open his eyes or stop screaming.

It seemed like hours before he was being lowered to the floor, but still held against Severus’ chest. He could tell Severus was whispering in his ear, but he still couldn’t hear words. However, he did begin to feel a warm pulse around him, the air humming and settling into his body. Steadily, the pain in his head began to ease and he was able to stop screaming. He felt the arm around his chest, holding him firmly against his father, and he brought his hands up to clutch the man’s arm. He sagged against his father, his breathing harsh as exhaustion settled into his bones.

“Harry, child, speak to me,” Severus said, sounding frantic.

Harry cracked his eyes open and realized they were down in the core. The hum he was feeling must be the pure magic of Hogwarts. He remembered the dream and flinched, clutching his father tighter.

“Talk to me, son,” Severus said, threading his fingers through Harry’s sweaty hair.

“Dumbledore…he gave me…a nightmare,” Harry gasped out, trembling.

“Yes, I was ‘summoned’,” Severus said. “It created a strong compulsion and he altered my perception so it seemed I was in a Death Eater meeting with Voldemort.”

“He…he started my nightmare like I…was seeing a meeting, but then…he was there,” Harry said. “He knows I know the truth about him, about the game.”

“As we suspected,” Severus said.

“I don’t know how much he knows,” Harry said. “He said I’d fail, that I would do what he wants or he’d take away everything. He said I had to accept my role.”

Severus’ arm tightened around him and a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

“I don’t think he knows you know or are a part of anything,” Harry said. “He had you under his control in my dream. I think he thinks you’re still under the Mind Magic, that I’m the only one that knows anything.”

“That is encouraging,” Severus said. “We still have many advantages over him.”

“What do I do?” Harry asked.

“We will figure it out as it comes,” Severus said. “For now, try to make it seem like you’ve given up and will do what he says. There is still information we need from him.”

Harry nodded, holding tight to Severus’ arm and letting his eyes close tiredly. He just let the magic of Hogwarts and the love of his father wash over him, chasing away the threat and pain, at least for a time.

For the next couple of weeks leading up to Spring Break, Harry acted as though the last few months hadn’t happened. He went to classes and meals, accompanied Ron and Hermione to the library for homework, spent his free time in Gryffindor Tower or on the Quidditch Pitch, and ignored everything Slytherin. He could feel Dumbledore watching him constantly, but, as the days went on, the prickling in his scar disappeared. He didn’t know if Dumbledore was convinced he’d given up his rebellion, but the diminishing scar activity felt like a positive sign. He was sure the headmaster was still suspicious, but hoped the man stayed with the belief that only Harry knew anything. He even let more and more of his fake memories flood his mind to make it seem like he was being affected by the Mind Magic once more, despite its weakened hold on the school.

His act was put to the test when he was summoned to Dumbledore’s office on the first day of break. He steeled himself for the first interaction with the headmaster since his nightmare and entered the office. He tried not to tense and sat in front of the desk, forcing himself to meet the blue eyes. He felt the Legilimency and let Dumbledore in, pretending he didn’t notice while showing the last two weeks and a ton of fake memories. It must have satisfied as Dumbledore left this mind and smiled in that grandfatherly way that had tricked him for almost six years.

“Glad to see you are feeling more yourself, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said.

Harry felt his eye twitch as he fought the urge to narrow his eyes at the comment. So, not completely convinced then. “Yes, sir. Must’ve just been…overwhelmed, I suppose.”

“Yes, such hard times we face,” Dumbledore said, his sympathy clearly fake. “Fortunately, we are about to take another step towards ending this darkness once and for all.”

Harry couldn’t help but lean forward, intrigued. The game was continuing which meant he could continue breaking the rules and changing the goal. Apparently, decades of having control had made Dumbledore cocky and willing to believe Harry was falling back under his control. His guard was down.

“I have found another of Voldemort’s horcruxes,” Dumbledore said and Harry’s eyes widened. “You asked to help with this task and, as such, I am asking you to accompany me this evening.”

“Where are we going? Where is it?” Harry asked. He needed to alert Riddle so he could get it before Dumbledore.

“I do not believe it wise to share the location with you in case Voldemort becomes aware we are searching for his horcruxes,” Dumbledore said, eyes very blatantly flicking to Harry’s scar.