“NO! PROFESSOR! NOOOOO!”

“Harry! Harry, come on, mate, wake up! Harry! Harry!”

“Professor, no! NOOOO!”

“Harry, wake up!”

It was with a sudden jolt Harry was finally rattled out of his sleep and back into consciousness. Disoriented and damp with sweat, Harry frantically looked around, hyperventilating and shaking like he’s just run a marathon. A blinding pain throbbed through his scar, making him dizzy and almost faint with pain. But he ignored the pain and tried to focus on his surroundings. Desperately trying to get his bearings on where he was, he was only distantly aware of Ron hovering by his bedside, one hand still on his shoulder from shaking him awake.

“Harry, what’s wrong, mate? What happened?” Ron worriedly asked, his face a ghostly shade of white in the dark shadows of the room.

“He’s in trouble… We have to help him…” Harry said, finally focusing on Ron and staring at him with an almost frantic look in his eyes.

“Help who?” Ron said, looking very confused and frightened. “Who are you talking about?”

“Professor Snape,” Harry said, frantically trying to make Ron understand. “I saw it. It was like a dream, only worse. Voldemort knows he’s been spying for Dumbledore. He did something to Snape. There were other Death Eaters there too. They were all torturing him. We have to help him!” Kicking his bed sheets off, Harry struggled to stand. “I don’t know what Voldemort did to him, but Snape’s hurt. I have to tell Dumbledore.”

“Harry, whoa, whoa! What are you talking about?” Ron said, grabbing Harry by the arm to try and calm him down. “What do you mean you saw You-Know-Who? Like in a dream?”

“No! Like I was actually there!” Harry cried, trying to wrestle his arm free from Ron.

“Harry, you’re talking madness. There’s no way you could have actually seen that unless you’re psychic or something. Are you sure you weren’t just having some kind nightmare?”

“I know what I saw, Ron!” Harry angrily shouted. “I wasn’t dreaming! Snape’s in trouble!”

Ron looked ready to try and calm his friend down again, but just then the sound of hurried footsteps coming down the hall sounded. Half a second later, the room to Harry and Ron’s room burst open with Sirius stumbling into the room followed by Lupin and Mrs. Weasley clutching a dressing gown around her frilly nightshirt. Behind them, Harry also saw Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George in their pajamas crowding around the doorway, staring into the room with frightened, confused expressions. It seemed his screams had woken up more people than just Ron…

“Harry! What happened? What’s wrong?” his godfather cried, looking around the room as if for intruders. His wand was raised and at the ready, as did Lupin’s beside him.

“Dumbledore! I have to talk to Dumbledore! Snape’s in trouble!” Harry cried, rushing towards Sirius.

Sirius gently grabbed Harry by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Harry, Harry, calm down,” he said. “Now what are you going on about?”

Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “Professor Snape’s in trouble. I saw it in a dream - only it wasn’t really like a dream. It was like I was actually there. Voldemort knows Snape was spying for Dumbledore and did something to him. He and a bunch of other Death Eaters were torturing him. Please, I have to talk to Dumbledore. Snape, he-”

“Harry, calm down,” Lupin soothed, trying to make sense of the teenager’s frantic babble. “Now how did you see all this again?”

“I told you, in a dream! It was like I was actually there looking through Voldemort’s eyes. He did something to Professor Snape. He knows he was spying for Dumbledore and was punishing him.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just having a nightmare, dear?” Mrs. Weasley worriedly asked over Sirius‘ shoulder.

“No!” Harry said, starting to get frustrated. “It was too real for it to have been a dream.”

“He said his scar was hurting when he woke up,” Ron piped up from somewhere behind Harry.

“Your scar was hurting?” Sirius demanded, leaning forward to search Harry’s face as if trying to actually see his godson’s phantom pain.

“It’s gone now,” Harry said, dismissively waving his godfather’s concern away. He was started to get frustrated. Couldn’t they understand Snape was in trouble and needed help? “Please, I have to talk to Dumbledore. Professor Snape’s in trouble. I think he’s hurt. They were all torturing him and then Voldemort did something to him… I can‘t really remember what though. I just remember seeing a flash of light and Professor Snape screaming, and then…” He trailed off uncertainly. “Please… I have to talk to Dumbledore…”

Sirius studied his godson for a long moment of silence, looking torn by indecision and worry. Finally though, with a heavy sigh, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Molly, can you watch the boys for me while I go contact Dumbledore? I’m not sure if there’s really anything to worry about, but he should at least be told about Harry’s scar hurting. This may be some kind of new trick of Voldemort’s to get at Harry…”

Harry was about to argue what he’d seen could not have been a trick, but Sirius was already moving towards the door.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, slipping past the others in the doorway and out of sight.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence hung in the wake of Sirius’ departure, everyone staring at Harry with uncertain, wary expression. As if trying to dispel the sudden awkward tension, Mrs. Weasley blithely said, “Well, come on, dears. Let’s go down to the basement for a spot of hot chocolate. I doubt any of us will be getting any more sleep tonight until Dumbledore gets here and we figure this whole thing out.”

Harry didn’t particularly feel like a “spot of hot chocolate” after the torture he’d been made to see, but he nevertheless let himself be guided out the door by Mrs. Weasley and Lupin, his friends following close behind.

It was an awkward silence everyone found themselves sipping hot cocoa in several minutes later. Harry couldn’t seem to make himself focus on anything else around him as he numbly stared into his untouched mug of cocoa. No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to totally dispel the memory of Snape’s tortured screams from his mind. All he could think about was the pain he’d seen in the Potion master’s eyes, the helplessness of his struggles as he’d watched Snape be dragged in front of Lucius Malfoy and had something tauntingly held up in front of him.

What that was exactly, Harry couldn’t quite remember. He just remembered wanting to wake up and not have to see anymore. Somehow seeing Snape reduced to such a helplessness state was distinctly unsettling and wrong.

Harry caught himself once more glancing at the clock for the tenth time in half as many minutes. How long did it take for Dumbledore to get there? It felt like forever since Sirius had left to get him. Didn’t they know they needed to hurry? Snape was in danger and they were all sitting there sipping hot chocolate. Harry felt his frustration mount.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione worriedly asked, noticing her friend’s white-knuckle grip on his mug.

Harry forced himself to relax his hold a bit. “No. This is ridiculous,” he said, glaring at the worn tabletop. “Where’s Dumbledore? He should be here by now.”

He felt his friends all worriedly look up at him, their eyes almost physical weights on his skin. He heard Mrs. Weasley bang several pots together somewhere behind him near the stove, almost as if to purposely make noise for a distraction. Lupin cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Harry…” George tentatively said, “are you sure you weren’t just having some kind of dream when you had this… vision, so to speak? I mean, that’s not exactly something people usually have.”

“Like I told Ron and Sirius, I know what I saw!” Harry snapped. “I saw Professor Snape getting tortured by Death Eaters and no one here seems to want to believe me. He could be dying for all we know, and no one else seems to care except me!”

“Harry, it’s just that having visions like this aren’t normal,” Hermione tentatively spoke up. “Especially when you say you saw it as though you were looking through You-Know-Who’s eyes…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Harry hotly retorted. “Professor Snape’s in trouble, and we’re sitting here drinking hot chocolate like nothing‘s wrong.” He angrily shoved his mug of cocoa away. “We should have people out there looking for him right now, not sitting here waiting for Dumbledore.”

“Harry, Professor Snape is more than capable of taking care of himself,” Lupin said. “He knows more curses and hexes than anyone else in the Order. I‘m sure he‘s perfectly fine.”

“It’s kind of hard to take care of yourself when you’re wandless and being tortured by half a dozen Death Eaters,” Harry angrily shot back.

“What’s got you so worked up about Snape all of a sudden?” Ron said, eyeing his friend skeptically. “I thought you hated the greasy git.”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry snapped.

Another suffocating pause of silence filled the room, everyone staring at Harry in surprise.

Feeling his friends staring at him again like he was some kind of stranger masquerading behind a Polyjuice Potion, Harry heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, Snape helped me when no one else could after my run-in with McCourn. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have a body right now and would probably still be floating around Hogwarts trying to get Nearly Headless Nick to notice me. I owe him. It’s my fault he’s in trouble now too. Voldemort said he found out Snape was spying after he helped me get my soul back…”

“I’m sure Professor Snape’s fine,” Ginny said, trying to sound reassuring. “You probably just had some kind of bad dream. I bet Dumbledore will get here and tell us Professor Snape is perfectly fine and back at Hogwarts.”

Harry was about to assert once again that he had not been dreaming when he happened to catch the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Turning in his seat he saw Sirius coming down the stairs, followed by the one person Harry wanted to see more than anyone else right then.

“Dumbledore!” Harry exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

“Ah, Harry, my boy. I hear you just had something of a bad dream you needed to speak to me about,” the old headmaster said as he descended the last step and came to stand in front of the riled teen. “What happens to be the problem?”

Dumbledore was wearing a bright purple dressing gown with gold sash and tassels. He also had matching slippers and nightcap still on his head. For a moment, Harry felt guilty for waking the headmaster up, but then he remembered his vision, and quickly launched into an explanation.

“Professor Snape’s in trouble, Sir. I just saw it. Voldemort knows he’s been spying for you. I saw Lucius Malfoy and a bunch of other Death Eaters torturing him. Snape wanted them to kill him, but Voldemort wouldn’t let them. I think he said he was going to use an Imperius Curse on Snape, but I don’t remember for sure. Lucius had something he used on Snape. I saw the professor screaming and then a flash of light; and then I woke up. I think he’s hurt...”

Dumbledore’s usual benign, smiling face was worried and pale.

“How did you see this, Harry?” he asked, sounding very anxious.

“In a dream. Only it really wasn’t a dream. It was like I was actually there. I saw it as though I was looking through Voldemort’s eyes. It was really strange, but I know what I saw. I wasn’t dreaming. My scar was hurting when I woke up, and-”

“It’s alright, Harry, it’s alright,” Dumbledore quickly cut him off. “I believe you. I don’t think you could have seen such a thing in a normal dream.” Distractedly tugging his beard, Dumbledore began to pace along the side of the room. “I was worried when Severus didn’t check back in with me…” he murmured to himself. “Kingsley said he’d seen Severus during the attack, but that he’d gotten away safely… Something must have happened afterwards…” Dumbledore quickly glanced over at Lupin. “Remus, please alert other members of the Order. Contact Minerva, Kingsley, and Emmeline. Tell them to organize search parties and look for Severus. Search everywhere: Hogwarts, Hogsmead, wherever they think Severus might be.”

“Are you sure about this, Dumbledore?” Sirius spoke up, looking very unsure.

“Very much so. I don’t believe this was just some kind of dream Harry had - of that I am almost positive. I believe Harry when he says Severus is in danger. We must find him as soon as possible - both for his safety and ours…”

Sirius still looked doubtful, but Lupin ignored him and left to do what Dumbledore asked.

Turning back to Harry, Dumbledore said, “Now, Harry, this is very important. Do you remember anything else about what you saw? Do you remember what Lucius used on Professor Snape, or what they might have said once he was under the Curse?”

Harry desperately racked his brains, trying to remember the last part of the vision he‘d seen. “Not really. I just remember Professor Snape trying to get away and screaming when Malfoy touched him with whatever he had. It was small. Only about this big.” He held his hand up to indicate an inch with his fingers. “Whatever it was, it was shiny and black. Lucius put it against his neck, and then Voldemort performed the curse. But what it was I don’t know. Voldemort didn‘t say. He just said he needed it because he knew Snape could fight off an Imperius Curse…”

Dumbledore thoughtfully stroked his beard, looking very troubled. “Thank you, Harry, that was very helpful. I’m just hoping I am wrong about what I think it is you actually saw though…”

“What did I see, Sir? I really don’t understand what’s going on. How could I have seen what I did? It was like I was looking through Voldemort’s eyes. It was like I was actually him…”

Dumbledore didn’t immediately answer, but continued to restlessly pace back and forth along the room. Finally giving a heavy sigh, he turned back to Harry and said, “I believe what you experienced was a temporary sharing-of-minds, so to speak, with Voldemort because of your connection with him.”

“My connection?” Harry weakly repeated, not liking the idea of sharing anything with Voldemort, let alone his mind.

“Your scar, Harry,” Dumbledore said, pointing to his lightening bolt marked forehead. “When Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby and gave you that scar, I believe he created a sort of mental link between you and him. I feared something like this might happen when he returned to power, but I was not expecting such a direct connection…”

Harry numbly stared at Dumbledore. He didn’t want to believe such a thing was possible - that he could actually see into Voldemort’s mind, and possibly, the Dark Lord into his. It was a sickening, frightening thought. It made him almost wish everyone was right and that he’d only been dreaming when he’d seen Snape getting tortured.

“But… How?” Harry floundered, not wanting to immediately accept Dumbledore’s explanation. “Why only now? Voldemort’s been back since June. Why would I only start getting visions like this now?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “I don’t know for sure, Harry, but I believe - and this is only assuming my theory is correct - that you will probably be getting more of them as time goes on. I do not want to make anymore guesses until we know more, but it is probably due to Voldemort regaining more of his former strength that you are starting to have these visions. It could also be due to Voldemort experiencing some strong emotion while you were in a weaker, more vulnerable state of mind - namely sleeping - that allowed you to see what you did. But until we know more, Harry, I really do not want to hypothesize more…”

Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. He’d just told him he might be mentally connected to Voldemort and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore? Didn’t he realize the implications of what he’d just said? The horrible possibilities?

“But, Professor-”

“No, Harry. Until we know for sure, let’s not speak about this anymore. It’s useless to speculate and guess when so many factors are still unknown. Let us wait for word on Professor Snape…”

Harry helplessly stared at Dumbledore, wanting to make the old man talk. But Dumbledore was once again pacing back and forth across the room, staring at the floor and tugging his beard as if oblivious to everything else around him.

Glancing over his shoulder as if searching for support from one of his friends, Harry was somewhat startled to find half a dozen sets of eyes staring back at him. There was a strange look in their eyes - even Sirius’. Harry couldn’t quite name it, but he was immediately taken aback by the sight of it.

And then he realized what it was.

It was fear.

For a long moment of silence Harry just stood there, frozen in place. He could almost feel their eyes boring into him, eyeing him like he was some kind of dangerous animal that could lash out and strike at any moment, or that he might possibly turn into Lord Voldemort at any second.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped, an unfamiliar emotion rising up inside of him at the sight of his friend‘s wary looks.

The immediate spell seemed broken. Like coming out of some sort of trance they all looked away and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Harry tried to catch one of his friends’ eyes, but none of them seemed to want to look at him anymore.

Feeling his desperation rising, Harry looked to his godfather for help. Sirius met Harry’s gaze, but it was uncomfortable and not very reassuring. Harry glanced at Dumbledore, but the headmaster was still lost in thought, pacing along the other side of the room.

Harry suddenly felt more shunned and alone than he ever had in his entire life. If this was how his friends and family looked at him, how would others when they found out about his mental link with Voldemort? Would they also look at him with that same wariness and fear?

Almost definitely… he thought with a sinking heart. They would start calling me the next Dark Lord just as quick as it would take the Daily Prophet to write a front page special report…

“Harry?” Hermione called, noticing the sudden look of despair spreading across her friend’s face. “Are you alright…?”

“I’m fine,” Harry lied, feeling as though his insides had suddenly twisted into a tiny knot. “Just leave me alone…”

Hermione looked somewhat hurt by his curt dismissal, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. The thought of those he loved looking at him like he was some kind of monster was too much for him to deal with just yet.

A long waiting game ensued. No one spoke or made any kind of noise as they all sat there in silence waiting for word back on Snape. Minutes seemed to stretch on for hours. Harry didn’t know how long they sat there, but he felt like he was being slowly tortured. He could hear the clock softly ticking behind him, almost as if to punctuate the slow passage of time. Harry felt his anxiety increase with every soft, infuriatingly slow tick tick of the clock. What was taking so long? Had they found Snape yet? What if he was hurt? Voldemort said he didn’t want to kill Snape, but what if something else had happened after he’d seen that flash of light and woken up? Could he be hurt? Might they have found him but had to take him to St. Mungo’s? What if Voldemort had ordered Snape to attack anyone that tried to find him? What if-

The loud roar of the fireplace flaring to life sounded on the other side of the room.

Harry leapt to his feet as the flames disappeared and a tall, red-robed figure stepped out of the fireplace.

“Kingsley,” Dumbledore said, coming up beside Harry to met the Auror. “What happened?”

“We found him,” the Auror replied. “He was making his way back to Hogwarts when we found him.”

“Is he alright? Was he hurt?” Harry demanded, pushing his way in front of Dumbledore to talk to Shacklebolt.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” Shacklebolt replied, stepping to the side just as the fireplace flared behind him, almost as if on cue. A half second later, a tall, dark figure ducked out of the fireplace, pushing a section of black, stringy hair from his eyes as he stood straight and faced the room.

“Is there something wrong, Headmaster?” Snape slowly drawled, only sparing Harry a small, dismissive sideways glance before turning to address Dumbledore. “I wasn’t expecting to return and find a full fledge search party waiting to meet me at the gates…”

“We received word that you might have been hurt,” Dumbledore replied. “Harry here says he saw Voldemort confront you about being a spy and says that you’ve been exposed.”

“Did he?” Snape drawled, glancing at Harry again with a cold look in his eyes. “Well I assure you no such thing happened. My position as a spy is still very much intact.”

Harry started at Snape in confusion.

“But I-”

“Harry was quite concerned by what he saw, Severus. He said Voldemort was torturing you along with several other Death Eaters,” Dumbledore said before Harry could say anything else.

Snape gave Harry another dark look. Harry was immediately taken aback by it. Since his accident two weeks ago, Snape’s outward hostility and dislike for him seemed to have changed into a quiet, indifferent acceptance of the young Gryffindor. But the look Snape gave him now was cold and full of disdain - like how he always used to look at him before. Harry felt an unexplainable distress rise up inside him at the sight of Snape’s renewed contempt. He had just been starting to get used to Snape’s new dismissive attitude towards him…

“The Dark Lord was unhappy with tonight’s raid on Azkaban and, as usual, took his disappointment out on his followers. He was also displeased that I had been separated from the rest of the group when I went to warn the Aurors at the gates, and thought that a few Crucios were in order. But as to whatever Potter is talking about, I have no idea…” Snape said, giving Harry another cold look.

Harry desperately tried to make his mind work, unable to accept what he was being told. “But Lucius Malfoy said he saw you meet Shacklebolt in the hallway and told Voldemort about it,” Harry insisted. “He said he knows you’re working for the Order.”

Snape’s upper lip curled, staring at Harry as though he were some kind of nasty smear on the bottom of his boot. “I don’t know where you’re getting this, Potter, but Lucius Malfoy was with the rest of the other Death Eaters during the attack. He never left the main prison block once the attack started.”

Dumbledore stepped forward. “That may be, Severus, but Harry says he saw Lucius and Voldemort put an Imperius Curse on you. For safety reasons, I’m going to have to ask Shacklebolt to check you.”

Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously, glaring at Harry.

“Shacklebolt, if you would…” Dumbldore said.

Shacklebolt nodded and stepped up to Snape. Holding his wand over the Potion master’s head, Shacklebolt murmured a complicated series of spells, making a small halo of light appear at the tip of his wand. Running his wand up and down the Potion master’s body, Shacklebolt finally stepped back and said, “He’s clean. I can’t find any trace of an Imperius Curse or any other type of lingering spell on him.”

Harry stared at Shacklebolt in disbelief. This wasn’t right. “But I saw Lucius use something on him! He put it in his neck.”

Snape and Dumbledore both looked at each other. Snape was starting to look very disgruntled and annoyed. “Dumbledore, this is ridiculous. Why are you listening to him?” he hissed. “I shouldn’t have to be subjected to this preposterous line of questioning.”

“I know, Severus,” Dumbledore soothed. “But these are serious allegations, and I’m going to have to ask you to humor an old man and let me see your neck.”

Snape looked ready to protest farther, his dark eyes glittering brightly in the dim light of the basement. But then, as if just wanting to get it over with, he bowed his head and let Dumbledore approach. Dumbledore gently parted the back of Snape’s hair and pushed down his collar. Taking his wand out and incanting a spell much like the one Shacklebolt had just used, he ran it back and forth over Snape’s neck. Finally cutting off the spell, he let Snape straighten and said, “Thank you for your patience, Severus. You‘ve helped put an old man‘s fears to rest.”

“So I take it I passed Potter’s little test then?” he sneered, glaring at Harry out the corner of his eye.

“Yes. I can’t find anything wrong with you,” Dumbledore replied, putting his wand back in the pocket of his purple dressing robe.

“Does that mean I can leave then?” Snape growled. “I do not appreciate being called to Headquarters in the middle of the night just because Potter had a bad dream.” Dumbledore nodded distractedly. Turning in a swirl of black robes back towards the fireplace, Snape paused and looked back over his shoulder. “The next time Potter says he had such a vision, I suggest someone giving him a strong Sleeping Potion - preferably one that’ll keep him knocked out until next Christmas… Maybe then we won‘t have to put up with these childish stories of his…”

And then with only one last pointed glare at Harry, he disappeared in a green plume of flames.

Harry stood in the deafening silence left in the Potion master’s wake, staring at the empty fireplace where Snape had been standing only seconds ago. He could feel eyes staring at him, boring into his back, but he could not bring himself to turn around and face them. He already knew what they must be thinking. And it was with a growing sense of doubt, Harry began to wonder if what he’d seen had really been real or just a figment of his own troubled imagination…