Remus and Snape were immediately on their feet, both shouting at him. Remus’ usually calm face was flushed red, and Harry took a step back, memories of Uncle Vernon’s rages surfacing from the back of his mind, before realizing that his guardian would never hurt him. Glancing at the Headmaster, who was now on the receiving end of a tirade for the Potions Master, he saw the man wore a bemused expression. Whether from Harry’s statement or the explosion of noise, Harry could not tell. Letting the noise roll off him, Harry waited them out. As the room quieted, he stood and waited until Albus Dumbledore waved the two men back into their seats.

“Harry, would you care to elaborate on your theory.”

“I have been researching bonds, curse scars, and any reference I could find to mind links. As you know, most bonds are beneficial and entered into willingly, like in a soul mate or parental bond. Bonds that are accidental or forced often result in the death of one or both of the parties. Based on the research I can find, it is likely that when Voldemort dies, so will I.”

Harry paused to let that sink in, halfway expecting another explosion, instead there was silence, and he saw a look of despair flash across the Headmaster’s face, which seemed to confirm his theory.

“I spoke to Sirius last night, and he reminded me that I have always been able to sense dark magic. He had the idea that I might be able to ‘see’ the strand of magic in my scar, like I ‘see’ my magic when we are training in wandless and amplified magic. If I can do that, then I might be able to isolate the link enough to stop the pain it causes, or even take that a step further, and be able to severe the link or even push it back in to Voldemort’s mind.”

‘NO!” Remus was on his feet again.

Harry looked at him sadly, “Remus, you have to accept that I probably won’t survive this war, and it’s more a question of dying well, than just sacrificing myself to kill Voldemort.”

“Harry…”

“Don’t get me wrong, Remus, I do not want to die, but I can’t go into this without accepting that, or I will be nutters before I can even try, and if I don’t do something about what I go through whenever he is having a temper tantrum, I will fail.”

“Harry,” Professor Dumbledore studied him over the top of the half-moon spectacles. “What does this have to do with Professor Snape and his dark mark?”

Holding the bright blue eyes with the intensity of his emerald green gaze, Harry continued, even as he could feel the scrutiny of the Potions Master’s dark eyes. “I would like to test my theory on the Professor’s mark, as it would have the same strand of Voldemort’s magic in it, and it would be safer to start there as it is not a direct link to his mind.”

The Headmaster had started nodding halfway through Harry’s explanation. “It might be worth trying, if you are willing, Severus?”

Turning, Harry met the obsidian gaze, his determination fueling his Gryffindor courage.

“What would be wrong with letting me just try, Professor? I don’t think it will hurt.”

His humor earned him a smirk from the older wizard, as Snape studied his face. “Do you really think this will be beneficial to you, Harry?”

“Yes, sir, I do.” Harry’s answer was soft and sincere.

The older wizard nodded slowly and turned back to look at the Headmaster, as Remus Lupin sat heavily in his chair.

“What do you need to prepare before you try, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him, hands folded on the desk in front of him.

“I have everything I need, sir, if Professor Snape is ready.”

Kneeling to the side of the Potions Master’s chair, Harry waiting until he took off his outer robes and unbuttoned the cuff on his white button down shirt, rolling the sleeve up past the mark. As Harry took the man’s wrist in his hand, he turned the arm over and gasped. The black skull and snake mark on the Professor’s forearm was swollen, and circled by angry red flesh.

“He has been using this to punish you, hasn’t he, sir?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes.” Snape’s face was hid behind a curtain of black hair.

“Maybe we can turn it around on him, sir, if you are ready?”

At the other man’s nod, Harry covered the mark with the palm of his right hand, and closed his eyes. Sinking into his magical core, he felt the golden force pulse and pushed out to find the dark magic that he could feel tingle his palm. With infinite care, Harry guided his magic into the black mark, immediately finding red strands of dark magic anchoring it in the skin and underlying nerves and flesh. Bringing the golden strands up against the first of the dark red ties anchoring the dark magic, hr carefully severed the red strand at the muscle. As if from a long distance, Harry heard a hiss of pain and felt the arm in his hands tighten. Redirecting his magic, he moved on to the next red strand, but this time he circled it with his magic, sealing it in the golden glow, where the angry red strand slowly dissolved.

There was no sound of pain this time, and Harry could feel the muscles relax in Snape’s arm. He continued to methodically isolate each strand of red-black magic anchoring the ugly mark to the flesh. Harry lost all sense of time, concentrating on the task in front of him, oblivious to anything else. When he got to the last strand, it pulsed a burning black-red and he knew that the Potions Master must be feeling it, but was this something that was normal, or did Voldemort know what he was doing? As he carefully insulated the strand, Harry could feel the anger and hate pulsing through it. With grim determination, he smothered the last link and severed the last hold the Dark Lord had over the man. There was one final flare of gold that seemed to eat through the mark that marred the pale skin.

Pulling his magic carefully back into himself, Harry slowly surfaced from the almost trance like state of concentrate. His hands still held fast on to Snape’s forearm, but Harry was surprised to find that he was leaning heavily against the man’s leg, his thighs cramping and knees numb. Trying to straighten up, he found that he was dizzy, and he felt weak, his limbs simply not obeying. Glancing at the arm he held, Harry was astounded to find that the ugly black mark had completely disappeared.

“Harry?” Remus Lupin was at his side, hands gripping his shoulders. “Can you get up?”

“I don’t know, my legs are kind of numb,” Harry muttered truthfully.

Remus helped him to his feet and steadied him, as Harry ventured a glance at Professor Snape. The normally stoic man stared down at the unblemished skin of his left forearm in bewilderment, running a finger across the area as if to confirm what his eyes told him. Stumbling, Harry made it back to his chair and slumped into it.

“Severus, are you alright?” There was a touch of concern in the Headmaster’s voice.

Professor Snape looked up, an unreadable emotion in the dark eyes. “The mark is gone, Albus.”

Dumbledore moved around his desk, and bent over to examine the arm. Harry followed his movements wearily; feeling like his energy had been drained. The Headmaster conjured a tea tray with a wave of his wand, and moved to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry, how do you feel? I would think you were exhausted, my boy, do you realize that it took you over two hours to remove Severus’ mark?”

His head snapped up in surprise. “What?”

The Headmaster examined his face carefully, and Harry smiled tiredly at him. That would explain why he felt like he had played a full Quidditch match. He turned slightly, and watched as the Potions Master slowly rolled down his sleeve, before accepting a cup of tea.

“I am sorry if I hurt you, Professor, I tried not to.”

“I did not experience any untold discomfort, but you continue to amaze me, Mister Potter, as your magic grows to unprecedented levels.” Snape met his eyes. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry could feel the goofy smile that spread across his face. “You are very welcome, Professor.”

Dumbledore settled back behind his desk, and sipped at his tea. “Can you tell us what you did, Harry?”

Cupping the warm tea in his hand, Harry explained what he had used his magic, and how he had severed the strand of magic that tied the mark to Professor Snape. He admitted to being surprised when his magic had removed the mark in its entirety. Answering the questions the adults had for him; Harry tried to give them the most truthful answers, but acknowledged that is was difficult to explain exactly how his magic did things.

“It is almost as if my magic responds to what I want it to do, but I am not sure why it does this or even how it does it. I knew that Professor Snape had suffered, both with the pain that Voldemort caused through the mark, and with the constant reminder of it. I guess my magic did what it thought best, and just took it away.” He finished apologetically.

“I am gratefully for your ability, Harry, and do not regret that the mark has been removed.” Snape interjected quietly.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry smiled at him.

“Harry,” the Headmaster pinned him with a piercing gaze, his blue eyes intent over the half-moon spectacles, “this ability you have to envision and direct your magic is extremely rare and not something that should be discussed outside this room.”

“Great, something else ‘abnormal” about me, and only Hermione knows about it, as she was helping me do the research” Harry grumbled.

“I trust Miss Granger is not going to pass the information on to Lord Voldemort, Harry. I am concerned, however, on how you will be able to apply this to yourself with out completely severing the link you share through your scar.”

Harry put down his teacup and leaned forward. “I need to isolate which of the strands from my scar are linked to nerves in my brain. With Professor Snape’s dark mark, some of the magic was anchored in muscle and some in nerves. If that is the case, then I should be able to cut off the pain without losing the ability to see what Voldemort is up to.”

“It concerns me that what you want to do might alert him to the true depth of your link, Harry, as I do believe that he is still unaware of your ability to witness the things you do through your link.”

“I know there is a risk, sir, but how am I going to be effective against him if he can bring me to my knees through the pain in my scar?” Harry asked, doing his best to hold on to his temper.

“I agree that this may be a solution to that problems, Harry, I would just like to make sure we have taken all the precautions we can before you try. You have been putting up with the pain for a long time, is asking you to wait a few more days going to make a difference?”

Harry hated it when Dumbledore was reasonable like this; he just wanted to get it over with. “No sir, I suppose not. What is it that you want me to do?”

“I would like you and Remus to meet with Professor Snape tomorrow after classes, to go over everything you can with Occlumency, and see if you can come up with anything else that might protect you if Voldemort should attempt to push into your mind while you do this. I also want you to wait until you are well rested and can take several hours to make your attempt.”

Harry saw the Headmaster and Remus exchange a glance.

“And you will make this attempt in the hospital wing as a precaution.”

A weight lifted off of Harry shoulders and he readily agreed to the conditions, elated that he was going to be allowed to try. He readily agreed to the terms, and fell in to bed as soon as he got back to his dorm with a feeling of accomplishment.