Harry sagged wearily into a chair set near the door of the Room of Requirement and closed his eyes. The past three days were a blur of frenzied activities that started with having to tell Ron and Ginny that their brother laid critically injured in the wake of an attack on the heart of London by Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore had hooked the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room up to the floo network at St. Mungo’s, which allowed for fire calling but was still guarded against any person flooing in. Ron and Ginny were able to speak to their mum and dad, getting updates on Percy’s condition. Harry and Hermione had sat up all night with them; the members of the Order of the Phoenix at Hogwarts had immediately Apparated from Hogsmeade in the aftermath of the attack.

Percy Weasley was out of danger and expected to fully recover from the injuries he received at the hands of the Death Eaters. Relieved, Harry plunged into assisting with the DA training sessions each morning and afternoon. In between, he managed to practice his Occlumency, and did additional training in the evening with his guardian and Professor Snape. Both men seemed pleased with his progress in wandless and channeled magic, which was to say Remus praised him and Snape could find nothing to sneer about.

Closing his eyes, Harry rubbed absently at the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. Since his vision Sunday evening, Harry’s sleep had been disturbed by vague, undefined images colored by green and red flashes. At the same time, his scar had also started to prickle and ache constantly, with an accompanying feeling of apprehension that Harry knew meant Voldemort was planning something, but he could not grasp anything specific. It all added up to feeling exhausted, frustrated, and effectively killed his appetite.

It was Wednesday afternoon now, and Harry had managed only snatches of sleep here and there, and could not remember the last meal he’d eaten. Perhaps he would ask Madame Pomfrey for a little Dreamless Sleep potion after dinner and just go to bed early. As much as he hated the idea, Harry knew he could not properly clear his mind if he didn’t sleep, and he would be dangerously vulnerable to Voldemort if that happened.

Opening his eyes, he looked around at the groups of DA members gathered in various spots around the Room of Requirement. Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and Severus Snape were each working with a group on their Patronus Charms. With the Dementors under Voldemort’s control now, everyone needed to be able to repel them. Remus had scoured the castle for a boggart, and it had been transported to the room in an old chest, which stood next to Harry’s chair. Harry was going to open it and bring out a Dementor for the DA students to try their Patronus’ on. He shivered as a chill walked down his spine, knowing that his mind would be repeatedly assaulted by the sounds of his parents’ deaths.

He might as well get his own practice session in first, Harry thought, as he stood and stepped into position in front of the chest. One never knew when Voldemort would raise his ugly head, and Harry needed to be ready, not to mention that he loved to see the silver stag that erupted from the end of his wand. It was like seeing a bit of his dad whenever he saw it. With a wave of his hand, Harry unlatched the lid of the old chest and held his wand ready.

The lid flew up and a black robed, black hooded figure emerged from the depths, red-slit eyes glowed in a flat reptilian face, and abnormally long skeleton-like fingers reach out at him, as Harry fell back a step, horrified.

“Potter!”

The shout barely registered as Voldemort unfolded from the chest, and Harry barely saw the black clad arm that came up across his chest as Snape jumped in front of him. In the back corner of his tired mind, Harry noted that the boggart did not change shape as it turned to face the Potion Master.

“Riddiculus!”

Voldemort was suddenly wearing a pink tutu and pink ballet slippers as it collapsed back into the chest with a flick of Snape’s wand. The older man rounded on Harry with a thunderous expression, as Remus materialized at his side. The entire room had fallen silent, and Harry could feel all eyes on him, knowing he had just given many in the room their first glimpse of the Dark Lord.

“What do you think you are doing?” Snape spat through clenched teeth.

“It was supposed to be a Dementor, sir.” Harry said, a bit bewildered at the trick his mind had planned on him. “I was just thinking about Vol…You-Know-Who, and I guess that was why the boggart chose that form.” He sighed, eyes dropping to the floor as he again rubbed his forehead.

“Scar hurting again, Harry?” Remus asked quietly, and Harry knew his godfather could see what he’d been trying to hide.

“Yeah, that achy prickling like I had before, about Fred and George.”

His godfather grabbed his elbow and pulled his arm down with a firm grip. Harry looked up at him, resigned, the Potion Master still glowering at him over Remus’ shoulder.

“Sleeping?” Lupin nailed him with a piercing gaze worthy of Snape himself.

“Some.” Harry countered, flushing. He knew his guardian was looking closely at the dark circles under his eyes.

“Eating?”

Harry scowled at him, feeling like a reprimanded five year old. “When I can, Remus…”

“Hermione, will you and Cho escort Harry down to the kitchens and see that he eats something, please.” Remus cut him off smoothly, smiling at the girls. “Both of you have the best Patronus’ in the DA, so I think you can miss a bit of this practice.”

Turning on his heel, Harry stormed out of the room, his face burning. The rational portion of his brain told him that his godfather was just trying to look after him, but the cranky five-year-old portion wanted to throw a fit. He settled for stomping down the staircases, savagely grumbling threats against no one in particular under his breath, ignoring the stifled snickers behind him.

Dobby was, as usual, delighted to see Harry Potter in the kitchens, and soon had him eating a steaming bowl of rich stew and fresh crusty bread. Harry found it hard to stay in a bad mood with Dobby chattering away happily at his side. Hermione’s eyes twinkled as she sipped her cup of tea and Cho had a rather bemused expression on her face as she nibbled on a lemon biscuit, watching the house elf. Harry was surprised to find his bowl empty and his stomach pleasantly full as he laughed at the enthusiastic response from Dobby.

“You is coming back soon, Harry Potter? Coming back to see Dobby?” Asked the diminutive creature as he hugged Harry around the waist, when they prepared to leave the kitchens, their pockets stuffed full of cakes and sweets, the other house elves crowded around.

“Yes, Dobby, I promise!” Harry assured him as the three students backed out of the room.

Hermione looped her arm through Harry’s as they made their way up out of the kitchens, and across the Entrance Hall. Cho was telling Harry about the Tornadoes Quidditch match she had gone to over the holidays. Harry was glad they had managed to salvage a friendship out of the disastrous relationship of their fifth year, but knew that Cho still resented Hermione, and the two of them would never be more than acquaintances.

As they started up the staircase to the second floor, Harry stumbled as a throb of fresh pain seared through his scar. Grabbing his upper arm with both of her hands, Hermione steadied him and Harry grimaced at another wave of pain.

“Harry James Potter, don’t you dare throw up that stew!” Harry tried to smile, knowing that Hermione had gone through this too many times with him to be panicked. “You are too thin as it is.”

Harry continued to smile in spite of the pain that was making his eyes water. A wave of apprehension surged through him. “Cho, will you please go back up to the Room of Requirement and let Remus know that I am going to Dumbledore’s office please?”

Cho nodded and took off immediately, jogging up the staircase to the left, as eHHHH

Hermione steered Harry up towards the right. They silently made their way to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s office, Harry’s eyes screwed up and streaming from the pain.

“Pepper Imps.”

The gargoyle shifted aside and they stepped on to the moving staircase. Albus Dumbledore stood waiting for them in the doorway of his office, and ushered them inside.

“What is it, Harry?” The bright blue eyes were serious as they took in Harry’s strained, pain-filled face.

Harry slumped into one of the armchairs, Hermione sitting on the arm of the chair.

“Its vague, like that time at Fred and George’s shoppe, but I think Voldemort has sent the Death Eaters out to hurt muggles, sir, like what happened at the Quidditch World Cup my fourth year.” Harry’s emerald green eyes were haunted as he met the blue. “He is rewarding them, for their raid on London.” He paused, trying to read the alien feelings pouring through him. “I think Duckville is a target, as is…” Harry’s eyes widened. “Surrey, I think. I think he is sending them to Little Whinging, sir!” A feeling of panic started to well up inside him, he may not like the Dursleys very much, but they were all he had in the way of a family. Harry took a deep breath and pushed the feeling away, cleared his mind and smoothed the walls.

The Headmaster put a hand on his shoulder. “The protective zones around the house on Privet Drive will keep your relatives safe, Harry, as long as they remain inside. Is there anything else that you feel, anywhere else we need to go?”

“No, sir, those are the only two places that have come through clearly.”

“Alright, my boy, wait here until Remus collects you both. I must go to alert the Order.” Dumbledore was gone in a flash of green flame.

Harry sighed, and leaned his head against Hermione, who patted his back gently. They both knew that as soon as Voldemort received news on the muggle raids, that Harry would be the first to know.

“Harry?” Remus stood in the doorway with Snape behind him. “Are you okay, son?”

“Yeah, just this stupid scar, as usual.” Harry grumbled. “And the real pain hasn’t even hit yet.” He and Hermione stood up and walked to the door.

“Severus has an excellent suggestion. Harry.” Remus moved aside and Snape stepped forward.

“We have canceled your lesson for this evening, Potter, in light of the circumstances. You are to return to the Gryffindor Tower, take these potions and go immediately to bed.” The Potions Master handed Harry two vials from his pocket, one he recognized as the potion Snape had brewed to help when his scar hurt, but the other was unfamiliar.

“What is it, sir? He asked politely.

“It is a variation of the Draught of Dreamless Sleep, Mister Potter, which should enable you to get a full night sleep.” Snape managed to turn the perfectly acceptable answer into a sneer.

“Thank you, sir. I guess I’ll head back to the dormitory then.” Harry walked past the men with Hermione behind him, and they walked in silence back to the deserted common room.

Climbing the stairs wearily, Harry went right up to the dorm. Hermione kept him company as Harry, for once, did exactly what he was supposed to. He was asleep before Hermione left the room.

Early morning light had started to spill the dorm when Harry woke up the next morning. Quietly, he dressed in a jumper and jeans, making his way to the Great Hall. Despite the early hour, he found most of the staff already seated at the table.

“Good morning, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore waved him over, as Remus and Moody muttered greetings, Snape did not look up from his breakfast.

“Any news, sir?” Harry asked as he side in beside Remus.

“Unfortunately, Harry, there is, and not much of it good. In three separate attacks, six muggles were killed and several others brutalized by Death Eaters.” Dumbledore said heavily, his face looking lined and tired. “Four of those were in Little Whinging; a family named Polkiss was tortured and killed. The protective fields around Privet drive were not breach, and as far as I know, your relatives are uninjured.”

“Piers Polkiss was my cousin’s best friend, sir, so it would appear that someone other than the Order is watching Privet drive.” Harry said quietly, knowing that the Dursleys would hold him personally responsible for this too.

“Yes, I would have to agree.” Albus Dumbledore said softly, lapsing into thoughtful silence.

The day followed the same pattern as the previous days had with DA sessions and extra training for Harry in the evening, as did the next. Professor Snape had given Harry a small black leather bag that held six vials of potion, three of the sleeping draft and three of the special potion he had developed for Harry’s scar pain. Taking one of each potion again Thursday and Friday nights, Harry finally felt rested when he woke up Saturday morning.

The day had dawned crisp and sunny, the snow thick on the ground around the castle, sparkling in the sunlight. Their special lessons now over, the members of the DA and the few remaining students had gotten permission for an impromptu Quidditch match. They had all promised to be careful, and those who weren’t playing would be standing guard, along with Remus and any of the other staff who cared to join them. Harry felt a surge of pride at the group of fellow students who had committed themselves to the DA, and how they had come together as a team.

They divided into teams of red and blue, with seven players flying out from each team. Switching players at twenty minute intervals with those sitting on the sidelines gave everyone several opportunities to play. No one was really keeping score, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, including Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. Along the outside of the pitch, several of the younger students started a snowball fight, and soon the players where dodging those as well as the bludgers as they played. Harry jumped to his feet and cheered the loudest as Ginny finally caught the snitch just before lunch time.

The laughing mob of students made their way back up to the Great Hall, where the older students showed off by casting drying and warming charms on themselves and the others. Hot cocoa and spiced cider sat waiting for them at the tables and lunch appeared as they seated themselves. Harry drug Ginny by the hand to their usually seats and anchored her to his side with an arm around her waist as they ate. Instead of separating to individual common rooms, wizard chess sets and exploding playing cards were retrieved, and the boisterous teenagers stayed in the Great Hall for the afternoon.

As he laid down that night, Harry felt pleasantly tired, and decided not to take the sleeping potion, instead only taking the potion that would minimize the pain if his scar began to hurt. Engaging in one last round of pillow fights with his dorm mates, the five teens settled into sleep, snow again falling gently outside the window of the Gryffindor Tower.

Torches lit the stone walls of the chamber, a short ratty wizard crawled on his knees towards his feet. Growing impatient at the over-done display of submission, Harry could feel his anger rise.

“Crucio! You will learn to do what I tell you immediately, Wormtail” He released the curse. “Get over here! It is time to summon my faithful.”

Whimpering, Wormtail scurried the last few feet and held his left arm up to his Lord as Voldemort pressed a long skeleton-white finger to the Dark Mark branded on Pettigrew’s arm. The little man scrambled back to his accustomed place in the circle that would form around his master. It was only a minute before the first of the Death Eaters Apparated in to place in the circle, in five minutes all were there, the last arrival being treated to a session of the Cruciatus Curse.

“It is time, my faithful Death Eaters, to join with a few of our new allies, and strike fear at the very heart of the wizarding world. Let us hope that your own children are smart enough to stay out of the way when the time comes.” Voldemort laughed, his high cold laughter rebounding off the wall of the stone chamber.

Harry jerked up in bed, his scar on fire and his hands trembling, but able to function. He took a moment to orient himself to the room, grabbed his glasses, and sent a prayer of thanks to the stars for Severus Snape and his potion making abilities. It appeared to be about five in the morning, the dawn had not yet breeched the horizon. Throwing his legs over the side of his four-poster, he grabbed a pair of jeans.

“Ron! Get up, mate! Now!” He reached over and shook the red head as he struggled into the pants. “Neville! Seamus! Dean! Get UP!” Harry ran from bed to bed, shaking his dorm mates awake. Thrusting his head into a jumper, Harry shoved his feet into his trainers and grabbed his black cloak, as well as his invisibility cloak. Making sure he had his wand and his pendant, he turned to Ron, who was sitting up blinking at him.

“Get all of the DA up and dressed for combat, Ron, Voldemort is planning on hitting King’s Cross. I am going to Dumbledore’s office, I’ll meet you in the Great Hall.” With that, Harry was out the door and down the stairs.

Sprinting, he made it to the gargoyle in a couple of minutes. “Peppermint Bark.” He gasped out, his breath hitching and the stone guardian moved aside. Harry ran up the moving stairs and burst through the office door, causing Fawkes to fly off his stand.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Harry ran behind the large desk and yelled up the foot of the stairs. “Professor!”

Dumbledore came out the door wearing a snowy-white night shirt and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Harry! What is it?!

“Voldemort just summoned his followers, and told them that they and their ‘allies’ were going to King’s Cross! He asked the Death Eaters if their children were smart enough to stay out of the way.” Harry told him, bitterly.

“I’ll be right down, Harry, wait for me.”

While he was waiting, Harry went to the black cabinet that stood behind the desk, and removed the Pensieve. He sat at the Headmaster’s desk and thinking about the dream he had just had, pulled the shimmering silver strand from his temple and let it fall in to the surface of the stone basin. Turning, he saw Dumbledore coming down the stairs clad is tighter fitting royal blue robes, and got up out of the chair, just as the door was thrown open and Severus Snape strode in, black robes billowing behind him.

“Headmaster!” Snape stopped at the sight of Harry standing by the desk.

“The Dark Mark, Severus?” Dumbledore said as he sat down, beckoning the Potion Master with his hand.

“Yes, Headmaster, it burned brightly about fifteen minutes ago.” The older wizard speared Harry with a glare. “Did you fail to take your potions this evening, Potter?”

“I took the special one you made for me, but I fell asleep with out the sleeping potion.” Harry told the older man truthfully, meeting the dark eyes.

Reaching into his robes, Snape pulled out two more vials of the special potion. “Take one of these just before we get to…”

“King’s Cross.” Harry supplied, watching what little color drain out of Snape’s face.

“King’s Cross and the other if the pain becomes overwhelming, later.”

Taking the vials, Harry put them in the inner pocket of his black cloak, and turned back to the Pensieve, prodding it with the tip of his wand. He watched as they vision replayed for the two men.

“Allies, Severus, what allies do you think he means?” Dumbledore asked quietly as the vision re-played.

“My guess would be the Dementors, Albus.” The Potions Master told him.

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. “Harry, retrieve your dream, we need to go.”

Swirling his wand in the shimmering surface of the Pensieve, Harry extracted the shining strand of memory and returned it to his temple. “My dorm mates were alerting the DA, Professor, and should be waiting in the Great Hall.”

Snape stared to open his mouth to protest when the Headmaster held up his hand. “Harry is right, Severus, we must move quickly, as there is not enough time to convince the Ministry of Magic that an attack is forth coming. We will use the DA to protect the other students on the platform while we and the Order guard the station against attack. Come, both of you, we have to prepare.”