With the icy winds of January that heralded the start of the New Year also came the inevitable return to school Harry and his friends had dreaded ever since the beginning of break. The Hogwarts Express was an orchestra of sounds of students all busily exchanging stories of Christmas break with each other, and before too long, they once again found themselves on the snow covered grounds of Hogwarts.

As Harry got out of the horseless carriage that had brought them up to the castle from the train station, he was glad he decided to wear the jumper Mrs. Weasley had made him for Christmas that morning. The wind was bitter cold and seemed to cut right through his robes and heavy cloak like a knife. Ron was also sporting his usual maroon Christmas sweater with a big gold R on the front.

“Come on, Harry, it’s freezing!” Ron yelled as he and Hermione hurried through the snow for the welcome warmth of the castle.

“Coming!” Harry called as they disappeared into the front hall, not even waiting for him. Not many other students were loitering outside because of the cold, but Harry didn’t feel like going in just yet. He had something he wanted to do first.

Walking to the front of the carriage he’d taken up from the train station, Harry gave the Thestral pulling it a gentle pat on its scaly haunches. “Hey there, bud,” he said as it swung its dragon-like head around to look at him.

Despite its demonic appearance, the Thestral happily began nudging his side with its nose like a friendly horse. “So you remember me, huh?” he laughed as he continued petting the creature’s scaly head. Since his second encounter with Thestrals during Care of Magical Creatures he’d gotten used to the idea of the frightening-looking creatures having such a strange affinity for him, and decided to make the most of it. After all, he’d never really had a pet before (besides Hedwig), and couldn’t help but think of Thestrals as some kind of big friendly dog. With wings. And scales… and fiery red eyes…

Aright, maybe they weren’t quite the same thing as a dog, or even a horse for that matter. But they did seem to like him and that was all that really mattered, however strange it was. Maybe if he kept this up he could someday learn how to sic them on Malfoy. Now wouldn’t that just be bloody brilliant?

Harry smiled just at the thought of it.

The Thestral eagerly bowed its head to him as he began scratching behind its ears and flapped its wings contently.

“They really seem to like you,” a dreamy voice suddenly said behind him.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw the same blonde girl he’d taken a carriage with on the first day back to school last September. “Hey… er, Luna,” he said, having to think a moment to remember her name. Luna. Luna Lovegood, that was it. From Ravenclaw. “How was your Christmas?” he nervously asked. Something about those faraway eyes unnerved him. At least she didn’t have a newspaper on her head this time.

“Fine,” she replied in her dreamy way. “Yours?”

“Fine.”

Luna slowly came up beside him and reached out to pet the Thestral. The demon-horse shied away from her and snorted unhappily. Then, leaning closer to Harry, it cocked its head so he could reach behind its ears. Luna dropped her hand in passive defeat, her distant expression not changing.

“Why haven’t gone inside yet?” she asked.

“Em, just didn’t feel like it,” Harry murmured.

“I heard Malfoy talking about you on the train. He was telling all the other Slytherins about how you’re taking Remedial Potions with Professor Snape. Is that true?”

Harry grit his teeth angrily. “No. He’s lying.” Once again he found himself entertaining the image of Malfoy running away from a pack of hungry Thestrals. Maybe he really would have to see about how much influence he had over the Thestrals when they left for the train next June… It was something to think about at least…

The last carriage of the students was getting let off and hurrying for the castle.

“Well, I guess we should go,” Harry said, and gave the Thestral one last pat on the neck. He and Luna began heading for the castle, walking beside each other in unease silence.

When they reached the front hall, Luna gave Harry a small nod and dreamily, “See you later, Harry,” then drifted off for the stairs.

Harry stared after her for a moment. Strange girl…

Shaking himself out of his thoughts he looked around for Ron or Hermione. He didn’t see either of them. Most of the other students were drifting off towards their individual common rooms, so Harry figured that was probably where his friends had gone too.

He headed for the stairs leading to Gryffindor tower. Several of the portraits shouted out greetings and late New Years salutations to him as he passed. As Harry reached one of the landings between floors he noticed a ghostly apparition coming towards him down the stairs.

“Sir Nicholas!” he called.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Nearly Headless Nick greeted and hovered on the stairs several steps up from him. “I was just on my way to look for you.”

“Look for me? Why?”

“The Headmaster said he’d like to speak with you before you settled back in your dormitory, and sent me to find you.”

“Did he say why?” Harry asked. Although he got along with Dumbledore pretty well, an unannounced summons to the Headmaster’s office still managed to set the delinquent schoolboy part of his mind racing with possible things he might have done to warrant such a request. But he couldn’t think of anything he might have done. He’d only just got back to school twenty minutes ago!

The Gryffindor ghost shook his severed head. “I’m sorry, he did not. He only asked me to find you. He also said to tell you that the password is ‘Licorice Wand.’”

Harry nodded as Sir Nicholas drifted past him down the stairs, his mission now complete. Harry couldn’t help but notice how the ghost didn’t say goodbye or try to make any kind of small talk with him. Usually, Nearly Headless Nick would have spent five minutes or so just asking him about his holiday. But recently Harry had begun to notice that Nick and some of the other ghosts he used to be on good relations with had begun to act uncomfortable in his presence. It was like they were nervous or fidgety, and wanted to get away from him. And he didn’t know why. They didn’t seem to act that way around anyone else. All he knew was that they’d started acting weird towards him around the start of school that year.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry started up the stairs again, now turning in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. Maybe he should ask Dumbledore about it. Maybe he’d know if he’d somehow offended Nearly Headless Nick or one of the other ghosts last year to make them act so strangely around him. Assuming he wasn’t somehow already in trouble with the Headmaster that was… He still wondered what Dumbledore’s summons were about.

Before too long he found himself standing outside the door to Dumbledore’s office. “Licorice Wands,” he said, and the stone gargoyle obediently leapt aside. A magical door appeared along with a set of revolving stairs beyond. Harry took them and ascended to the tall oak door leading to Dumbledore’s office proper.

A hesitant knock on the door was answered with a muffled, “Come in!” from beyond.

Harry slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Dumbledore’s office was warm and pleasant, a merry fire burning in the fireplace. Gadgets and unrecognizable magical objects whirled and tittered from almost every shelf of the room. Fawkes was sitting on his perch on the other side of the room and trilled happily at Harry entrance. Several portraits of the old Headmasters and Mistresses stirred from their naps at the phoenix’s greeting and curiously peered down at him from the walls. Dumbledore’s desk was piled with stacks of parchment and official looking documents along with even more mysterious knickknacks the old wizard had collected over the years. And it was behind this overflowing desk of papers and gadgets that Harry found the one who’d summoned him.

“Ah, Harry, my boy, sit down. I wanted to talk to you,” Dumbledore smiled when he glanced up and saw the boy standing in front of his desk. “Lemon drop?”

“Uh, no thank you, Sir,” Harry replied and took a seat opposite the old Headmaster. “What was it you wanted to see me about? I‘m not in some kind of trouble am I?”

Dumbledore maintained a smiling face, but it drooped just ever so slightly, letting Harry know that no matter what Dumbledore said, there was something troubling the old Headmaster. “Trouble? No, no… Not necessarily. But I did want to talk to you about something rather… unsettling that’s come to my attention. Your godfather tells me that you are no longer taking Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.”

Harry slouched back in his seat and sighed. “Sirius told you? He promised me he wouldn’t…”

“Harry, these Occlumency lessons are very important. I wanted you to start taking them so you could learn how to keep Voldemort from entering your mind. Several people have mentioned to me that you are still having visions, or nightmares at the very least. It is imperative that you learn how to keep this from happening.”

Harry sighed. “That’s what everyone’s been telling me…”

“Sirius didn’t give me any details, but he said something happened between you and Professor Snape to cause the cessation of your lessons. Would you like to tell me what that might have been?”

Harry bit his lower lip nervously. Dumbledore’s gentle face quietly assured him that he would not be accusatory or judgmental of whatever Harry told him, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that if he did, he’d somehow lose the other wizard’s respect and esteem. “I… Let’s just say I did something I shouldn’t have and violated Professor Snape’s trust,” he murmured.

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. “I see.”

Harry felt shame once again burning his cheeks. He knew he should just tell Dumbledore everything: about how he’d looked in Snape’s Pensieve and seen a memory he knew he shouldn’t have, and that was why Snape had ended their lessons. But he’d chickened out at the last minute and couldn’t bring himself to admit what he‘d done. He almost wished Dumbledore would question him more about what he did so he didn’t feel like he was somehow lying to the old man.

But Dumbledore didn’t. Perhaps it was because he already knew.

“Whatever it is you’ve done to make Professor Snape so angry with you Harry, you must talk to him about starting lessons again,” Dumbledore said with a grave look in his normally twinkling blue eyes. “It is of the utmost importance that you do. I will speak to Professor Snape and-”

“No!” Harry blurted out. Dumbledore looked at him questioningly, leaving Harry scrambling to explain. “No, that’s alright, Sir,” he said as smoothly as he could. “It’s just that I want to apologize to the Professor before you or anyone else talks to him about giving me lessons again. I just feel it’s something I should do. You know, as an act of respect…”

Dumbledore studied him closely for several moments of breathless silence. For a moment Harry was almost afraid Dumbledore was going to ask him about what he’d done to make Snape stop giving him lessons again, and his reasons for doing so. He knew he should probably tell Dumbledore about what he‘d seen, but at the same time he didn’t want the Headmaster to think he was being sucked in by Voldemort’s “false” visions and try to once again assure him that everything was alright with Snape when Harry knew it wasn‘t.

Finally though, after what felt like an eternity to the guilt-ridden boy, Dumbledore nodded his head. “Very well, Harry. But I am going to ask that you speak to him soon. I can’t stress how important these Occlumency lessons are for you.”

“Yes, Sir…” Harry replied, relieved.

“Now, with that’s out of the way, I’m sure you’d like to go back to your dormitory to freshen up before dinner,” Dumbledore then said in a much lighter tone. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a lemon drop before you leave?”

“No, Sir, I’m fine,” Harry said and got up to leave. He was just about to close the door behind him when he heard Dumbledore call after him one last time.

“Be sure you speak with Professor Snape, Harry.”

Harry hide his face behind the door before he softly replied, “Yes, Sir…” and shut the door behind him.

True to his word, Harry did try to approach Snape with an apology. But despite even his best attempts to corner the surly Head of Slytherin, Harry couldn’t seem to find an opportunity to speak with him in the days following his return to school. In Potions class he was always surrounded by other students - half of them Slytherins and the other half Gryffindors who would all begin to wonder why he was trying to talk to Snape - the known bane of his Hogwart’s existence - if he tried talking to him during class. In the hallways, there was again always the chance of being overheard by eavesdroppers which Harry couldn‘t risk. And no matter what time Harry went, he could never seem to catch Snape in his office. 

He even tried earning himself a detention with Snape to get an opportunity to talk to the man in private. But when he “accidentally” broke a whole bottle of armadillo bile on the floor (an almost assured two weeks worth of detention!), Snape merely snapped at him and deduced sixty points from Gryffindor.

Frustrated and starting to run out of ideas, Harry couldn’t help but feel that Snape was actually trying to avoid him.

He knew he was probably imagining things, but nevertheless, the feeling persisted.

And so it was, several days after his return to Hogwarts, that Harry found himself getting ready to go to bed, still feeling frustrated and angry about his Potion master’s continued elusiveness. With each passing day he became more anxious. Voldemort’s words in his last vision continued to haunt him. These continued hints of an attack - most likely on Hogwarts by the sound of it - were troubling. Was Voldemort going to use Snape to somehow infiltrate the castle or attack someone? And if so, who or what was Voldemort’s target? Him? Dumbledore? Someone else? He didn’t know. The possibilities continued to haunt him.

“Night, Harry,” Ron said as he climbed into bed and gave a jaw-bending yawn. Their other dormmates were already in bed; Semus reading a Muggle football magazine by wandlight while Dean and Neville were already fast sleeping behind closed curtains. Neville’s snores rumbled softly through the bed hangings.

“Night,” Harry replied, and crawled under the covers.

Ron punched his pillow several times to fluff it up a bit before flopping down onto his side. “Do you think I can see your History of Magic notes before breakfast tomorrow?” he sleepily asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry mindlessly replied.

Ron glanced at his friend. “You okay, mate? You’ve been acting a bit… strange… ever since we got back from break. You feeling alright?”

“Yeah. It’s just…” Harry glanced at their fellow dormmates. Dean and Neville were already asleep and it looked like Semus was getting ready to turn in for the night. Making a decision, Harry cast a quick Silencing Charm on his and Ron’s side of the room, and leaned over the bed towards his friend. “Do you think Snape’s been avoiding me the last couple days?” he whispered.

Ron looked taken aback by his friend’s unexpected question. “Avoiding you? I wouldn’t say so. I don’t know about you, Harry, but I almost wish he was. He took a hundred and fifteen points from Gryffindor today in Potions. If it wasn’t for McGonagall giving us extra points in Transfiguration to try and make up for it all, we’d be in the negatives!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Harry hissed. “I’ve been trying to talk to Snape for the last several days, but every time I try to he’s either surrounded by other people, or “conveniently” not in his office.”

“I think you’re imagining things and getting yourself worked up over nothing,” Ron replied. “Besides, why do you need to talk to Snape so badly?”

Harry frowned and told his friend about the last vision he’d had at Grimmauld Place - the one hinting of some kind of mysterious attack on Hogwarts. Ron listened with rapt attentiveness.

“Are you serious?” he whispered. “Do you think You-Know-Who’s going to make Snape attack the school?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “What if he’s actually after you and trying to use Snape to get to you? It might be dangerous for you to be going out of your way to talk to him like this. He might try to kill you.”

“I’ve already thought of that,” Harry said, “but I’ve been keeping a close eye on him, and he doesn’t seem to be planning anything - at least that I can see… But I’m not about to drop my guard. I know Snape’s smart, especially if he’s been able to hide Voldemort controlling him from Dumbledore so long. That’s why I have to try and talk to him - so I can try and find out what he’s up to. I know Voldemort’s planning something and he’s going to use Snape to do it.”

Ron looked worried. “Do you think we should tell someone about this?” he asked.

“No. I’ve already tried telling Dumbledore, but he’s still pushing for me to take Occlumency lessons with Snape like nothing‘s wrong. I’m not going to get any help from him, and apparently Sirius was the one that told Dumbledore about Snape stopping lessons in the first place, so we can‘t tell him either. He’ll just think Voldemort’s somehow brainwashing me with these dreams.”

“We should at least tell Hermione,” Ron said.

Harry nodded tiredly. “Yeah. I suppose so. She’d figure out some way of keeping a better eye on Snape than any of us.”

Ron gave a sigh and rolled back onto his back. “Yeah, assuming she’s not pulling her hair out about NEWTs,” he murmured. Then yawning so wide Harry heard Ron’s jaw actually pop, he mumbled, “Well, goodnight, mate…”

“G’night,” Harry murmured.

He sat there leaning against the headboard of his bed for several minutes, staring ahead into nothingness, until he heard the first soft rumble of sleep coming from the rumpled mound in Ron’s bed.

Sighing with some emotion he couldn’t quite place - frustration, exhaustion, hopelessness? - Harry consigned himself to the fact that answers were once again not soon in coming, and laid down. Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, Harry listened to the even cadence of Ron’s snores.

It looked like he was in for another sleepless night. The constant worry of what evil plans might be getting set into motion that very moment refused to relinquish its grip on the boy’s tired mind. Horrible possibilities continued to pop up from the garden of an overstressed imagination.

What if Voldemort really was after him? What if he’d ordered Snape to attack him when everyone least expected it? What if it was something worse? What if he’d found out about the Order and where it’s Headquarters was? What if he ordered Snape to attack there?

Harry felt nearly sick with uncertainty and the endless stream of unanswerable questions plaguing his mind.

Laying there in the dark, Harry closed his eyes and tiredly rested the back of his arm across his face, covering his eyes.

What is Voldemort doing to you? he helplessly wondered, as if Snape could actually somehow hear him and answer. What should I do?

For several minutes Harry lay there, letting the snores of his dormmates and gentle beating of his own heart help lull his restless thoughts. He felt himself skirting along the edge of unconsciousness, his senses becoming more dull and body more detached. And then-

He was walking through the halls of Hogwarts. How he got there he didn’t know. But by the look of the portraits lining the walls, it looked like he was somewhere on the other side of the castle - no where near Gryffindor tower or his nice warm bed.

Harry’s feet seemed to move with a mind of their own, bearing him away into the dark shadows of the night. He didn’t know where he was going, but his feet seemed to. He strangely felt no need or desire to try and halt his mysterious wandering, and let them guide him where they may. He felt like he was being drawn towards something.

As he turned a corner into another hallway, he suddenly saw a dark figure standing motionless beside a window half way down the hall. Moonlight streamed into the hallway, bathing the figure in a large pool of ethereal moonlight. As he came closer, Harry instantly recognized the black-robed figure before him, his harsh features unmistakable.

It was Professor Snape.

The Potion master seemed oblivious to his student’s presence as Harry drew closer; his eyes distant and unfocused as he stared out the window into the frost covered night. Snape’s face was emotionless - a passive mask - but his eyes betrayed a deep sense of hopelessness. Harry felt the sudden urge to try and reassure the man that everything would be alright, that everything wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed.

But Snape still didn’t acknowledge his presence, as if he didn’t even know he was there.

Harry suddenly realized he must be dreaming (or having another vision) and that Snape couldn’t see him. It was strange. Usually in his visions he watched things happen from the viewpoint of some actor unwilling playing the role of someone else. But this time he was distinctly aware of himself and knew for a fact that it was actually him standing there now.

For a moment he wondered why he was there. Every other time he’d seen who he suspected was Snape in his dreams, the man was always either being tortured by Death eaters or questioned by Voldemort. But there was no sign of Voldemort or any other Death eaters around, and he and Snape were both obviously still within the protective wards of Hogwarts.

“Time is running out…”

Harry jumped, the sudden whisper startling him.

“What?” Harry stammered.

At first Snape didn’t seem to hear him; his eyes still blankly staring out into the dark recesses of the night, as if trying to somehow see a world far beyond the reach of this one. Harry wondered for a moment if he’d somehow imagined Snape speaking.

But then the Potion master’s eyes slowly swiveled towards him and speared him with their gaze. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

Snape could see him…

“Time is running out,” the Potion master whispered, his eyes staring straight into Harry’s eyes as if looking into his very soul. “You must hurry.”

Harry, still shocked that Snape seemed able to see him, stammered, “What? I don’t-”

“You must hurry,” Snape insisted, not listening to him. “There is not much more time. You must-”

But before Snape could warn Harry what he must do, he suddenly clutched his left arm and doubled over it, screaming through gritted teeth. Harry stood there helpless as the Potion master battled the crippling pain attacking him.

“Hurry,” Snape rasped, a note of desperation entering his voice. “You must hurry.”

Harry felt a small burning sensation begin to creep along the skin of his left inner forearm. Before he could even realize what was going on, the tingling pain exploded into full blown torture, eliciting a cry of pain from him similar to Snape’s.

“Hurry…” Snape pleaded through gritted teeth. “Before it’s too late…”

“Too late for what?” Harry cried through the pain, clutching his arm.

Harry’s vision was beginning to waver, the silver-black nightscape of the empty hallway beginning to fade.

“There‘s not much time…” Snape’s voice pleaded through the thickening veil of darkness clouding Harry’s vision. “You must hurry before-”

No longer able to fight it back, the darkness surrounding Harry crashed down on him, swallowing him in its dark embrace. The pain coursing through his arm suddenly disappeared.

And then, all was darkness…

The next morning Harry woke to a dull burning sensation in his left arm. And for that entire day, no one saw any sign of Hogwart’s surly Potions master.