September first.

Usually this day was one of happiness and joy for Harry, as it signaled the start of term for Hogwarts. But Harry could not seem to find anything to be positive about today.

Dark green hills of the English countryside rolled by as the Hogwarts Express slowly chugged its way north. A dreary, slate gray sky stretched from one horizon to the other outside the rain-streaked window Harry sullenly stared out.

The day had started out miserably. Everyone had been tired and ill-rested when Mrs. Weasley came to wake them up that morning and get them ready for the train. A certain unspoken tension seemed to hang over the house, Harry’s vision the previous night still a lingering thought on everyone’s mind. No one said much of anything as they left Grimmauld Place. Sirius had accompanied them to King’s Cross in his Animagus form, but even his godfather’s presence was not enough to dispel Harry’s despondent mood. Seeing Lucius Malfoy on the platform of nine and three-quarters when they arrived had not helped much either.

Somehow seeing Draco’s father standing there like nothing was wrong only the day after he’d seen him torturing another human being like it was some sort of game was enough to make Harry almost sick with rage. But what made it worse was that he had no actual proof Lucius had actually done anything, and no one seemed willing to believe his vision was real. Never mind the countless issues of the Daily Prophet being sold at the train station with seventy-five font headlines screaming about the breakout from Azkaban the night before…

Staring out the rain-lashed window, Harry felt his teeth clench together in frustration, anger, and nagging puzzlement.

Just what happened last night? His vision had seemed so real there was no way for him to believe it was anything but. But nothing seemed to fit. Snape had denied it’s authenticity, and Shacklebolt and Dumbledore had pronounced Snape free of any Curse. Nor had they found any trace of the object Harry had seen Lucius use on Snape. Could it be he was wrong and really had only been dreaming when he’d had his “vision” like everyone said?

Somehow that just wasn’t a satisfactory enough explanation…

“Come on, Harry, cheer up already,” a voice said, breaking through Harry’s angry thoughts. “You’ve been like this all day. It’s not the end of the world you know.”

Harry looked away from the window and gave Ron a dark look. “Easy for you to say…” he muttered. “You don’t have everyone thinking you’re off your rocker.”

Hermione gave a heavy sigh and closed the book she’d been reading with a snap. “Harry, no one thinks you’re off your rocker. We all told you so last night. You just had a bad dream, that’s all. It’s nothing to get worked up about. It was probably just brought on by all this stress you‘ve been under. I mean, what with what happened at the Triwizards Tournament, and then that whole thing with your soul getting torn in three… I‘m actually surprised you haven’t had a dream like this sooner…”

“But don’t you think it’s strange I knew about the attack on Azkaban when none of us heard anything about it?” Harry said, instantly jumping on the subject. “I saw Snape getting tortured and then Voldemort do something to him. Even Dumbledore believed me. There has to be something more to this than what we actually see!”

“But Dumbledore couldn’t find anything wrong with Professor Snape,” Hermione pointed out. “Even Shacklebolt did a test on him and said he couldn’t find any type of spell on him. Plus, you might have heard someone in the Order talking about the attack the other night when they were all at Headquarters for that meeting, and just stored it in your subconscious where you later remembered it in a dream. There are a lot of explanations about why you could have seen what you did.”

“And you don’t believe Dumbledore when he says I might have some kind of connection with Voldemort?” Harry said. “What I saw was too real for it to have been a dream - it had to be real!”

“Harry, do you realize what you’re saying?” Ron said, sounding a little bit uneasy. “You sound like you actually want to be able to see into You-Know-Who‘s head…”

Harry gave a sigh and stared back out the window. “I don’t want to be able to see into Voldemort’s mind, but I can’t think of any other explanation,” he murmured. “Don’t you remember how I said my scar was hurting when I woke up? That’s exactly how it felt like last summer when Voldemort was trying to come back to power. There has to be some kind of connection between us. That‘s the only thing that would explain what I saw last night…”

“Harry, I don’t think that’s something you actually want to go shouting on about,” Ron said. “People might start to get the wrong idea if you start saying you can actually see into You-Know-Who’s head.”

“Yeah, I’ve already seen how that generally goes over with a crowd…” Harry darkly muttered. Ron and Hermione didn’t say anything in response. Neither of them could deny their own reactions when Dumbledore said Harry might be mentally connected to Lord Voldemort.

Harry noticed their guilty looked and angrily glared back out the window.

“Harry,” Hermione pleaded, “it’s not that we don’t necessarily believe you, it’s just that it’s kind of a farfetched story… We’re just worried about you. After everything that’s happened-”

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Harry interrupted her, angrily whipping back around to glare at her and Ron. “You say you believe me, but then in the exact same sentence you try and tell me I was just having some kind of dream! I know what I saw! When will you two believe me? I’m not crazy! There’s something going on here and I’m going to figure out what it is with or without your help, so you‘d better decide once and for all if you‘re with me or against me.”

“Alright, alright!” Hermione squeaked. “We believe you!” Ron mutely nodded beside her, looking rather frightened of his friend.

Harry seemed to relent and leaned back in his seat, gloomily staring out the window. Hermione and Ron shared an uneasy look. This was a whole new side of Harry they’d never seen before.

“We believe you, Harry…” Hermione tentatively reaffirmed, nervously glancing at Ron, “but if what you saw wasn’t a dream, then why is it nothing seems to add up? I mean, Professor Snape said he wasn’t attacked by Lucius, and Dumbledore said even he couldn’t find anything wrong with him. So why would Snape deny he’d been attacked unless it didn’t actually happen?”

Harry glanced back at Hermione, but there was no longer any anger in his eyes, only a determined look to figure this mystery out. “I saw Voldemort put an Imperius Curse on him,” he said thoughtfully, “so he must have forbidden Snape to warn anyone in the Order. But there’s definitely something wrong with Snape. I could tell when Shacklebolt brought him back to Headquarters. He was acting strange.”

“What do you mean?” Ron said. “He didn’t seem to be acting any differently.”

Harry hesitated, not quite sure how to articulate the change he’d seen in Snape towards him since their grand misadventure the other week. How could he explain or make his friends believe Snape’s hostility towards him had cooled? It was a previously unconceivable thought - and not one Harry could actually prove, especially given Snape’s attitude towards him the night before.

“He just was…” he murmured, leaving his friends to draw their own conclusions. “But Voldemort definitely did something to him…”

“What do you think You-Know-Who might be planning to make Snape do?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe use him to get information about the Order or Dumbledore with. Snape has almost free run of the school and is involved in almost anything to do with the Order.” A sudden, frightening thought occurred to Harry. “He could make Snape do anything… especially with no one watching him. No one else believes he’s under Voldemort’s control except us.” He looked back up at his friends with an intense look in his eyes. “We have to keep an eye on Snape and make sure he doesn’t try anything. If Voldemort orders him to do something, he’s in a position to destroy the whole Order and possibly the school. We can’t let him do that.”

Ron and Hermione both paled, the implications of what Harry said slowly sinking in.

“But how are we going to do that?” Ron said. “We can’t follow Snape around twenty-four hours a day. We have classes, plus he can leave school anytime he wants.”

Harry looked thoughtful and stared back out the window towards the dark, rolling countryside. “We’ll just have to do the best we can,” he said. “No one else believes me Voldemort’s using Snape except you two. Until we know what Voldemort’s up to, we’re just going to have to keep a close eye on Snape and make sure he doesn‘t do anything…”

After giving Hagrid a quick wave, he, Ron, and Hermione made a dash for the carriages that would take them up to the castle.

“I hope Dumbledore doesn’t give a long speech this year,” Ron said from under the hood of his drenched school robes as the three of them splashed their way towards the carriages. “I’m starving…”

“You’re always starving,” Hermione shot back, her usually bushy hair plastered to the sides of her face by the rain. “Do you think he’ll say anything about what happened to you the other week, Harry?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder towards her other friend.

But Harry didn’t answer. He’d stopped dead in his tracks several paces back, the driving rain apparently forgotten. Ron and Hermione both stopped too and stared at their friend in concern.

“Harry?” Hermione called.

But Harry didn’t answer. He seemed frozen to the spot, staring at something past them in complete shock.

“Harry!” Hermione called again, a little louder as she tentatively came closer.

Harry finally seemed startled out of his trance. Looking at Ron and Hermione with a strange, frightened look in his eyes, he stammered, “Don’t - don’t you guys see them?”

Ron and Hermione both exchange confused glanced.

“What are you talking about, Harry?” Ron said.

Harry looked past them again towards the line of horseless carriages being filled by Hogwarts students. “Them! Those things pulling the carriages!” he exclaimed, pointing at the offending carriages. “Can’t you guys see them?”

Ron and Hermione both glanced at the carriages but couldn’t see anything to explain their friend’s sudden fear of them. “There’s nothing there, Harry,” Hermione softly said, looking at her friend in concern. “They’re just carriages charmed to move without anything pulling them…”

“No they’re not!” Harry shouted, his voice ending in a frightened hitch.

He stared at his friends in disbelief. How could they not see them - those horrible things standing in between the carriage poles? They looked liked black, bat-winged horses. But they were skeletally thin - their ribs and hip bones protruding from under their black scaly skin - and had fiery red eyes that seemed to glow in the late evening gloom. As he stood there staring in disbelief, one of the winged horses gave a snort and stamped its foot in the mud, gnashing the air with sharp fang-like teeth.

Harry took a horrified half-step backwards.

“Oh, you can see them too?” a light, airy voice suddenly said behind him.

Startled, Harry jumped almost two feet into the air. Whipping around, he came face to face with a blonde girl with protruded blue eyes that had a strange, dreamy, faraway look to them. A magazine was resting open on her head like some kind of teepee rain hat. Harry thought he saw the word Quibbler written across it.

“W-what?” he stammered.

“You can see them too,” the girl repeated, pointing in the direction of the horse-like creatures. “I didn’t know you could see them. But you’re Harry Potter, so I guess there’s lots of things you can do that I don’t know about.”

Harry momentarily forgot about the horses and just stared at the girl. “Um, I guess… What’s you’re name again?” he asked, feeling like he’d suddenly been transported into another realm of reality.

“Luna. Luna Lovegood,” the girl replied with a far-away look still in her eyes. “I’m in Ravenclaw; one year behind you.”

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione at this, but they seemed just as lost as he was for what to think about this girl.

“So, um…” Harry stammered, glancing back over his shoulder again. “What are those things?”

“Oh, the Thestrals?” Luna said as if black bat-winged horses were a normal, everyday sight. “They pull the carriages. I’ve been able to see them since my First Year. I didn’t think anything of them until I found out not many other people can see them.”

Harry was somewhat caught between feeling relieved that someone else could see them, and an undeniable dismay that the only other person that could was this strange girl.

“So why can only we see them?” Harry asked, still feeling rather dazed.

“Hm,” Luna hummed, her dreamy eyes half closing in concentration. “I think I remember it has something to do with seeing death. I saw my mother die when I was young, and I heard you saw Cedric Diggory die last year, so I suppose that must be it...”

“That’s what I’ve read too,” Hermione piped up. “Thestrals are suppose to be bad luck…” She glanced at the horseless carriages. “I never knew they were the things Hagrid had pulling the carriages though…”

“Well,” Luna said. “We’d better go. The carriages are going to be leaving soon…” And giving her makeshift magazine hat one last adjustment to keep the rain from running into her eyes, she started off for the carriages.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared after her for a moment before they hurried to catch up.

“What House did you say you were from again?” Ron asked as they came up beside Luna.

“Ravenclaw,” she replied.

Ron and Harry shared a skeptical glance behind her back.

“So what magazine is that?” Harry asked, trying to make small talk as they neared the carriages. “I’ve never heard of-”

But he never got a chance to finish what he was about to say; for just as they were nearing the carriages, the winged horse hooked to the carriage they were about to get in suddenly shook its dragon-like head and looked straight at Harry. Harry abruptly stopped, frozen to the spot by the beast’s fiery gaze.

As he stood there, he saw the other Thestrals also look up and stare at him. Together, like a singular being, the Thestrals all turned to face him. Startled cries rang out from other students as the carriages seemed to move on their own accord to face Harry in a wide semi-circle. Those students not already in the carts stared at Harry in a mixture of surprise and fear. Those inside the carriages had similar expressions of confusion as they stared out the tiny carriage windows.

For a long breath of silence, nothing moved or even seemed to breathe. The soft patter of rain was the only thing to be heard.

The Thestrals stood there silent, like a ring of demonic black sentinels around Harry. He could feel their blood red eyes boring into him. One Thestral snorted and pawed the mud, a jet of whispy, smoke like breath shooting from its nostrils and curling in the rainy air. Another gnashed its teeth and pumped the air with its large, bat-like wings.

Harry took a frightened step backwards.

The Thestrals took a collective step forward, hewing him in closer to the middle of their circle like a pack of predators.

Harry felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. Were they going to attack him? This had never happened before. Could he take them all on by himself?

But he never had to find out as a loud, gruff voice suddenly broke the tense silence like a hammer through a pane of glass. “’Ey! Wha’s goin on ‘ere?”

Harry whirled around to see Hagrid standing at the base of the station platform. The half-giant was possibly the most welcome sight Harry thought he’d ever seen right then.

Striding forward, Hagrid came to stand beside Harry. “Problem, ‘arry?” he asked.

“T-the Thestrals,” he stammered, pointing at the ring of skeletal black horses. “I don’t know - I was just walking towards the carriages and all of a sudden they just…” He motioned towards the ring of horses again.

“Huh,” Hagrid grunted. “Tha’s never ‘appened before… They’re usually so well behaved…” Looking back towards the Thestrals he clapped his hands and whistled loudly. “Alrigh’ yous, back inta line!”

As if actual obeying Hagrid, the Thestrals slowly backed away from Harry, snorting and pawing the ground as if disappointed by Hagrid‘s untimely intervention.

As Hagrid went to get the Thestrals back into line, Harry could feel dozens of eyes staring at him. Students not already in the carriages were standing dumbfounded in the rain, staring at him as if he’d just grown three extra heads.

Another long pause of silence ensued - Harry just standing there, frozen under the weight of his peer’s accusing eyes.

“Well, that’s never happened before,” Luna’s airy voice rang through the silence.

Like coming out of some sort of trance, Harry felt himself snap back to reality, and became uncomfortably aware of all the people staring at him.

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione timidly called. “Let’s get a carriage…”

Harry nodded absentmindedly and hurried to hide himself behind Ron, Hermione, and Luna from everyone else‘s gaze.

“There yeh go, ‘arry,” Hagrid blithely said as he held a carriage door open for the four of them. “They shouldn’ give yeh any mo trouble now.”

Harry mumbled a quick word of thanks and ducked inside the carriage, wanting to sink into the cushions and disappear.

“That was neat,” Luna said several moments later when the carriages began to move. “How did you make them do that?”

Harry stared at the floor, dumbfounded and confused. “I don’t know…” he murmured. “Can Thestrals somehow know you can see them?”

Luna’s large, protrudant eyes stared at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” she replied in her dreamy way. “I’ve been able to see them for the last four years, and they’ve never done anything like that before. Maybe they just liked you…”

Harry somehow highly doubted that. But Luna had already turned her attention to drying out the magazine she’d been using as a rain hat earlier and seemed to have already forgotten the incident.

Ron and Hermione meanwhile tried to give Harry a reassuring look, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

No one said anything else the whole ride up to the castle.

Throughout the entire meal, Harry just sat there wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Ron and Hermione tried to be reassuring, but even they could not shield him from everyone’s gaze or stop their Housemates’ curious questions.

“Hey, Harry, what’s this about you dying the other week?”

“What did you do down at the station? That was creepy…”

“You feeling alright? You don’t look so well…”

The worse though was Draco Malfoy right before the feast. “Hey, scarhead!” he’d shouted across the tables. “I heard about your little accident last week in London. You’d better be careful… You never know when another “accident” might happen…”

Harry tried to eat, but couldn’t find his appetite. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his plate, his eyes constantly seemed to drift towards the Head Table where a dark-robed figure sat.

Between only occasional bites of food, Harry watched Snape like one studying a new and curious animal. From what he saw, Snape didn’t seem to be acting any differently. Several times throughout the meal, Harry observed Snape exchange several words with Dumbledore. But their conversation seemed light and inconsequential - the Headmaster not giving any outward sign he was worried about his spy’s compromised loyalties, or that there was anything wrong with Snape. Snape, for his part, seemed to act like he always did: cold and aloof, giving no one the impression he was the least approachable person.

At one point towards the end of the meal, Snape seemed to suddenly sense Harry’s eyes on him and looked up in the direction of the young Gryffindor. Their eyes met, locking onto each other even from across the Great Hall. For a long moment of time of silence, they just stared at each other, the noisy hall fading away into the distant background of Harry‘s consciousness.

Harry felt himself frozen by the Potion master’s gaze, as though he‘d just been hit by a powerful body-binding curse. Something flashed through the older man’s eyes, his dark black eyes boring in Harry as though trying to somehow reach out and touch him with his mind.

It was almost like Snape was trying to tell him something…

But then, as if coming back to himself, Snape’s eyes suddenly sharpened to two black pools of cold disgust, glaring at Harry with the same animosity and hatred he’d had for the past four years of their acquaintance.

Harry was taken aback by the sudden shift. Startled and just a little bit scared, Harry looked away, shaken by the venom he’d seen in the other man’s gaze.

He didn’t look up at Snape again for the rest of the meal.

Listlessly stirring his mashed potatoes and gravy together into a formless grey mess on his plate, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what he’d thought he’d seen in Snape’s eyes right before he’d looked at him with such hatred and wrath. But try as he might, he couldn’t figure out what that might be…

When the Feast finally ended and everyone began to get up, Harry leapt up from his place and sped for the door, not waiting for Ron, Hermione, or any of his other friends. He heard them call after him as he weaved his way through the crowd of other students, but didn’t stop. Just before the end of the meal, he’d begun to feel the weight of eyes staring at him again - the distraction of empty stomachs no longer there to stem the stream of hushed whispers and fearful glances from his fellow students.

Pushing past of the tiny First Years fearfully standing together as they waited for Prefects to take them to their dormitories, Harry jogged through the halls and up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

“Bolgia,” Harry panted when he finally came to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady raised a curious eyebrow at him as though she couldn’t understand what he was doing there before anyone else, but swung the portal open nonetheless.

Harry rushed past her into the Gryffindor common room gratefully. He didn’t want to be around any other people at the moment, or have to answer any more uncomfortable questions. He was tired of being stared at and talked about. He just wanted to be alone - even if only for a few minutes - so he could rearrange his jumbled thoughts. So many strange things had happened in the course of only day, Harry felt like he was on the fast track to a nervous breakdown.

Hurrying up the stairs to the dormitories, Harry found his, Ron’s, and their dorm mate’s luggage already there. Kicking off his shoes and jumping into bed, Harry pulled his bed hangings closed and laid back, staring at the bed canopy with his hands resting over his stomach.

As he felt his body gradually begin to relax into the mattress, Harry heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the pinch of skin between his eyes under his glasses. His head was beginning to hurt, making him wonder if Hermione really hadn’t been on to something about stress starting to get to him. He certainly had been under a lot of it lately…

Dropping his hand back onto his stomach, Harry wearily stared up at the canopy, trying to erase the image of his classmate‘s eyes from his mind. Granted he’d become used to stares over the years because of his title as the Boy-Who-Lived, but the stares he was garnering now were making him feel distinctly ill at ease and alone. These stares he was getting now were different. Before they’d only been curious, grateful, perhaps even a little bit awe-struck. But now they were frightened. Accusing. Suspicious… He could almost feel the apprehension and fear radiating out from those around him when he‘d been sitting in the Great Hall and at the train station, and even earlier the night before in Grimmauld Place.

Rolling onto his stomach with a heaved sigh, Harry buried his face into the pillow. He wished he was back in Grimmauld Place - away from his everyone’s accusing, suspicious eyes, and their uncomfortable questions. He was tired of being looked at like he was some kind of monster that could pounce at any minute, or that he might possibly be going insane. He just wanted to have a normal life. Not one filled with Dark Lords, mysterious visions, or looming danger. He just wanted to be a normal teenager who’s greatest fears in life were upcoming exams, Quidditch games, and who he was going to ask to the dance. Was that really too much to ask?

Trying to calm his raging thoughts, Harry closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Maybe if he laid down for a few minutes, he’d calm himself down enough to talk to his dormmates whenever they came up from the Feast. And it was with that hopeful thought in his mind, Harry lay there in the dark and let the tension slowly melt away from his body…

“Harry! Harry, wake up, mate! It’s just a dream! Harry wake up!”

Full consciousness came back to him like a sledgehammer to the head. Before he could even get his bearings, he curled up onto himself, clutching his forehead as a white hot bolt of pain sliced through his scar.

“Harry! Harry, are you alright mate?”

Harry felt the pain subside enough to let him think properly - though it still throbbed painfully - and looked up into the worried blue eyes of Ron. His breathing was ragged and his throat raw. A cold sweat drenched his school robes, which he saw that he was still wearing although it was now completely dark outside with cold moonlight filtering in through the windows. Ron was in his bedclothes. Over his shoulder, Harry saw his other dorm mates all staring at him from the safety of their beds, worry and fear etched into their faces.

“Harry, are you alright man? You were screaming like someone was torturing you!” Ron exclaimed, still gripping Harry by the shoulders tightly.

“I saw it again!” Harry exclaimed, his body shaking as he looked up into his friend’s frightened eyes. “It was like I was him again! I saw him torturing someone. I think it was Snape!

“Harry! Harry, calm down!” Ron yelled, trying to calm his hysteric friend down. “It’s alright…”

“No… I have to see Dumbledore. Something’s wrong,” Harry said, struggling to his feet. His voice was shaky and pleading, his movements unsteady and weak as though he‘d just been blindsided by a bludger to the head. Ron had to help steady him before he was finally able to stand on his own. Rubbing his throbbing scar, Harry forced himself to focus on Ron. “I have to talk to Dumbledore. Please, go get McGonagall. I have to talk to Dumbledore…”

For a moment, Ron looked torn by indecision and worry. But then looking over his shoulder, he shouted to Neville, “You heard him! Go get McGonagall! I’ll stay with him until you get back.”

Neville didn’t put up any form of protest and raced for the door, forgetting all about slippers or even a night robe to throw over his pajamas.

Harry meanwhile had sat back down on the bed, too dizzy to stay standing any longer. He held his head with one hand as the other gripped the comforter in pain. Somehow it felt like the throbbing in his scar was getting worse instead of abating like it‘d always done before…

Ron remained by his side as he fought the pain, a silent support in his suffering as they waited for their Head of House to arrive. Harry wasn’t sure who was more scared, him or his friend.

Finally, just when Harry was about to ask Ron to find someone else to go find McGonagall, he heard the door to their room open and saw a worried looking McGonagall hurry into the room, followed closely by a pale-looking Neville.

“Potter, what happened?” she demanded as she shooed Ron out of the way and knelt in front of her distressed pupil, worry evident in her eyes.

Harry was finding it hard to focus on the older woman in front of him. The throbbing in his scar still wasn’t going away, starting to make him panic. What if it didn’t go away this time?

“Professor…” he weakly pleaded. “I have to talk to Dumbledore… I had another vision… I think Professor Snape’s in trouble…”

“Are you sure, Potter?” McGonagall said. “I heard about the last vision you had concerning him…”

Harry felt his scar give another intense pulse of pain, making him grip the comforter tighter. “Yes,” he choked. “Please… I have to talk to Dumbledore… Professor Snape‘s in trouble…” The world suddenly seemed to lurch to the side, his vision blurring dangerously around the edges.

“Potter?” McGonagall called, her eyes widening as she stared into her student’s pale face.

“My scar…” he murmured. The shadows of the room were beginning to meld into a sickening kaleidoscope of darkness and moonlight. His entire head was now spinning. An odd buzzing sound had started in his ears and was getting progressively louder. “Still hurts…”

And then it was like the world suddenly tipped on end.

“Potter!” he heard McGonagall shout from somewhere beyond the crazy meld of shadows twisting his vision.

But he never got a chance to answer her.

He felt himself pitch forward, and for a brief moment of time he felt like he was freefalling. And then…

darkness…

“So I see our young Mr. Potter has finally woken up…” a bemused voice said from somewhere to Harry’s left.

Turning his head towards it, the young Gryffindor was rewarded by the sight of Hogwart’s old Headmaster sitting in a comfortable-looking, high backed armchair close beside his bed.

“Professor Dumbledore…” he rasped.

“I heard about last night’s excitement in the tower…” Dumbledore said, leaning forward to meet Harry’s gaze. “It seems you gave your dorm mates and Professor McGonagall quite a scare… Professor McGonagall immediately fire-called me after she‘d brought you here to the Hospital wing. She said that you were asking to see me before you passed out.”

Gingerly sitting up against the headboard, Harry turned towards Dumbledore. His head throbbed slightly at the movement - like the remnants of a lingering headache - but he forced himself to ignore it. “I had another vision,” he said without preamble. “I left the Feast early so I could be alone, and I guess I fell asleep before anyone else came up… It was like I was Voldemort again. It was like I was looking through his eyes… He was standing in a large room waiting for someone when Lucius Malfoy came in with another man. Both were wearing masks. I couldn’t see his face, but I think the other man was Snape… They started talking about the attack on Azkaban. Voldemort was pleased with having fifteen of his followers back, but then he started torturing Snape… He said he wasn‘t going to stop until he lost his voice from screaming…” he slowly trailed off, unable to go on, sickened by the memory of what he‘d seen and heard.

Dumbledore sat for a long minute of silence tugging his beard, staring out the window towards the brightening horizon with a troubled look on his face.

“Did you actually hear Voldemort identify either of the men in your vision by name?” Dumbledore finally asked after what felt like an eternity to Harry.

“He did for Malfoy,” Harry replied. “But the other one he didn’t… But I know it was Snape!” he vehemently declared.

Dumbledore stared back out the window and agitatedly tugged on his beard again.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Harry said, a hint of angry hurt tainting his voice.

Dumbledore looked back up at Harry. “Of course I do, Harry. By Professor McGonagall’s account of how she found you last night, I have no doubt in my mind you experienced some kind of psychic connection between yourself and Voldemort. But you must admit there are some inconsistencies with your recount of what you think you saw. I know for a fact Professor Snape was here at Hogwarts last night, and that he hadn’t been called to Voldemort’s side. He always informs me when he’s summoned.”

“But he could have been ordered not to tell you he was leaving by Voldemort!” Harry insisted. “They did something to him! They’re controlling him! I know it!”

“Harry…” Dumbledore said, very patiently. “Professor Snape was examined by myself and Kingsley Shacklebolt. We could detect nothing wrong with him.”

Harry stalled for a moment, desperately trying to think of something to make Dumbledore actually listen to what he was trying to say. “But he’s acting differently! I noticed it after my first vision in Grimmauld Place. Something’s not right!”

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Harry… please believe me when I say I’m not trying to write off what you say you saw. I worry about Professor Snape almost constantly. I worry about the dangers he constantly faces because of what he’s doing for the Order - what risks he always has to take. He has possibly risked more for the Order than anyone else. And these visions of yours trouble me greatly. But, Harry, you must admit that what you’ve seen and what actually is seem to greatly differ from one another - at least when it comes to Professor Snape that is…”

Harry suddenly felt as though someone had just poured a bucket of ice water down his back. Dumbledore didn’t believe him… No matter what the old man said, when it came down to it, he was just like everyone else: he didn’t believe him…

It was at that moment that Harry decided he couldn’t trust his visions to anyone else again, save perhaps Hermione and Ron. They were going to have to find out what was going on by themselves…

“…with Professor Snape.”

The name of Harry’s Potions professor abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“I’m sorry, Professor. What was that?”

Dumbledore studied Harry closely over the rims of his half moon-shaped glasses for a long moment of silence before patiently repeating, “I said, I fear these visions you’ve been having might be part of some trick Voldemort is using to somehow get to you. That is why I want you to start taking measures to prevent Voldemort from entering your mind again… I want you to start taking Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape…”