The week passed quickly, between regular classes, defense training, and the extra research. Hermione helped as much as she could, and they could often be found with their heads together in the library, flanked by Ron and Ginny doing their homework. The week drug on for the group, and Harry felt like he was running from class to class as well as to the library, trying to keep up on regular schoolwork as well as his special defense classes and Occlumency lessons. The only time he noticed the weather was when he had to walk out to the green houses for Herbology, but was pleasantly surprised to see that flowers were blooming and sun felt warm on his face. He stopped for a moment one afternoon, just to let the warm rays shine on his face, remembering the days when he could take time to enjoy the sun.

With his scar continuing to prickle and the weight of the weekend bearing down him, Harry found that he was getting little rest. While he had not suffered through any visions that week, there was enough discomfort in his scar, as well as old nightmares about Cedric and Sirius that gave him little reprieve. By Friday evening at dinner, he was hollowed eyed and had little appetite, managing only to force some Shepard’s pie down to appease Hermione and Ginny. He felt the scrutiny of several pairs of eyes from the head table, and looked up to see that not only Remus, but also Snape and the Headmaster were frowning at him. Harry sighed wearily, glad that by this time tomorrow, he’d ether have done the deed, or, he was sure, failed in spectacular fashion.

Returning to the common room with Ron and Hermione, Ginny’s fingers entwined with his, Harry collapsed on to the couch in front of the fireplace. He laid his head back, only to have Ginny turned him around and lay him down so that his head was in her lap, her small hand carding gently through the soft raven hair. The gesture instantly calmed him, and he grinned, turning his head to pressing a kiss into the thigh under his head, and laughed as she shifted restlessly.

“Stop that and lay still, before Ron forgets he’s your best mate, and remembers I’m his little sister.” Hot breath whispered in his ear.

With a grin, Harry relaxed, letting his mind float into a foggy state, where nothing was registering, and he was warmly adrift. Blissfully, the comforting hand stroking his hair, he slipped into sleep.

The dark chamber flickered eerily in the torchlight, a red haze colored the black robes and white masks of the figures in a circle around him. A bloodied, naked body lay on the cold stone floor at his feet, twitching from the after effects of the Cruciatus. One of the hooded figures viciously kicked as the man attempted to grab the bottom of his robes.

“Please, Master, I did everything you wanted! I told the wizarding world you were not back; made both Dumbledore and the Potter boy look stupid, I was a loyal servant to you! Spare my life, Master, so that I may continue to serve you!”

The evil insane cackle bounced off the stonewalls of the chamber, and he felt disgusted by the whining and begging mass of flesh under his gaze. He pointed his long dark wand at the man.

“You have outlived your usefulness, Cornelius. Our world has lost faith in you, and you will be replaced by another that I can’t control. That muggle-loving fool has considerable influence, and your actions did nothing to minimize that. You waste my time. Avada…”

Harry knew it was a vision, and struggled to use all his strength to pull back from behind the red eyes. Weaving his way out of the deep red into black, he followed a strand of his golden magic back, the impression of climbing out of darkness and into the light was overwhelming. As he continued back, he came to the scar on his forehead, a bright green jagged mark colored by the killing curse that hit him as a baby. There was pressure behind him, and Harry knew that he was going to be in agony as soon as this over took him. Fervently, he traced back until he could see the strands of angry dark red that constituted Voldemort’s link to him, and watched as the darkest strand, so red that it was almost black, started to vibrate as the pain finally caught up and overwhelmed him. His thin hold on consciousness was snapped.

A comforting hand still stroked through his hair, and another rubbed his back in slow circles, and as awareness flooded through him, Harry stomach churned ominously. Groaning, he tried to push away, but hands firmly held him as a basin was shoved under his face.

“It’s okay, mate, just let go, we have you,” Ron’s soothing voice reassured him, as it had done so many times in the past, and Harry vomited in to the basin.

A vial was pressed to his lips, as his head was tilted back, and Harry swallowed his special potion thankfully. As soon as the world stopped spinning, he carefully sat up and opened his eyes. The common room had been cleared of everyone but the four teens, Remus and Professor Dumbledore. Remus handed him a goblet of water, which Harry took gratefully and sipped. Looking up, he met the bright blue eyes of the Headmaster.

“I think you need to see this one, sir,” Harry told him quietly.

At the Headmaster’s nod, Remus steadied Harry as he climbed to his feet. Pressing a kiss to the top of Ginny’s head, he exchanged glances with Hermione, and dipped his head in the affirmative to her unspoken question. He had isolated the strand of magic that he believed was causing him the excruciating pain during his contacts with the dark wizard. Following the adults out of the common room, Harry walked silently towards the Headmaster’s office. He knew that Professor Dumbledore would be saddened by this vision, as it would confirm to him exactly what kind of a man the Minister of Magic had been.

Professor Snape was waiting for them at the gargoyle, and Harry did not even stop to wonder how he knew. They rode up the spiral staircase in silence and settled into chairs in front the large desk, as the Headmaster retrieved his Pensieve from the black cabinet near Fawkes’ perch. As Professor Dumbledore seated himself, Harry stood and moved to the edge of the desk, concentrating on the vision as he removed the strand of shimmering silver from his temple. Dropping it into the dark viscous liquid of the rune lined basin, he watched the strand glow and swirl, before he prodded it with his wand.

As he watched the scene unfold, he covertly studied the face of the Headmaster. Many emotions flashed across it, recognition, surprise, betrayal, and then sadness. Just as Harry reached to gather his memory back, a hand fell on his arm, and the others watched as Harry traced the strand of magic back into his own mind, showing them what it was he saw when he located the painful strand.

Retrieving the strand from the liquid, Harry sat back down in his armchair, his fingers straying to stroke the phoenix pendant around his neck. It was an unconscious gesture that he had developed as of late when he was studying or reading, the warmth of the metal seemed to comfort him. In the special defense lessons that he had been taking with the three men sitting with him, Harry was learning to direct and amplify his magical powers and the pendant centered him for his wandless magic as well.

“Thank you, Harry, as difficult as that was to witness, I am glad that we know now what happened, and can move forward. I will contact Arthur Weasley as he had been appointed interim Deputy Minister of Magic, and will have direct access to the acting Minister of Magic, Madame Bones.”

“Yes, sir, although I am not sure many in the Ministry will take one of my ‘visions’ as an accurate version of what happened.”

“I am sure, based on past practice, that we will soon find Cornelius’ body in some very public wizarding place, such as Diagon Alley. As usual, Lord Voldemort will be striving for the manner that will produce the most shock and fear from the wizarding world.”

“Harry,” Professor Snape interjected, “the dark strand of magic that you were able to locate connected to your scar is the one you believe is causing you pain when you experience these visions?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so. I am not sure whether disconnecting the strand will help me when I am in the presence of Voldemort, but you saw how black and angry that strand was, so I don’t think I have anything to lose,” he told the older wizard.

Remus reached over and laid a hand on his arm; “It seemed like you were able to hold the pain back while you traced that strand back. That took an incredible amount of control and concentration, Harry, and I am very proud of you. Do you feel you are ready for tomorrow?”

Smiling faintly, Harry nodded; “I am as ready as I will ever be, Remus, I just know that I can’t continue to let Voldemort have this kind of control over me.”

“Take this, Harry, and make sure that you get a good nights sleep,” the Potions Master handed Harry a vial of potion.

Taking it, Harry recognized the color as being that of Dreamless Sleep potion, and thanked the dark hair man quietly. With a nod from the Headmaster, he and Remus said their goodnights and left the office. Walking back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry felt a sense of calm settle over him. He knew with the death of Cornelius Fudge, the wizarding world would be coming into a new era, and if he had his way, it would soon be free of the evil threat that overshadowed it.

With a quiet word, and a hug from his godfather, Harry made his way into the common room where his friends still waited for him. Dislodging Ginny from the chair she was sitting in, he tugged her back down on to his lap as he sat. In a low voice, Harry relayed to them the contents of the vision, and what had transpired afterwards. He let them know that the attempt to break the painful connection with Voldemort would happen tomorrow morning, as scheduled. They sat for awhile, discussing the immediate future of the Ministry of Magic, before they separated to go up to the dorms. With a lingering kiss and a reminder to take the sleep potion, Ginny and Hermione headed up, while he and Ron trudged up the stairs to the sixth year boys dorm, where their dorm mates were already asleep.

Harry sleep soundly, not waking up until breakfast was almost over. He carefully dressed in muggle-style jeans and a Weasley jumper. He had sent Ron on ahead, telling him that he’d meet them after they all had eaten, knowing he would not be able to stomach anything until after the try this morning. Add to that, the feeling that he would just throw it up anyway.

Making his way down to the common room, Harry stood at the window looking over the area where Voldemort had staged his attack just before the school year had started. The sun was shinning warmly, and Harry leaned out the open window, taking in a lungful of clean, sweet scented air. It was a perfect day, and ironically, should have been the day that Gryffindor clinched the Quidditch Cup in its annual final game against Ravenclaw. A powerful anger welled up in Harry for a moment, knowing how much had been taken from all the students, the facility, not to mention the wizarding world itself, by one snake-faced bastard who thrived on the fear and terror he caused. Taking deep, calming breaths, Harry vowed again to do the best he could to fulfill the Prophecy, and play out the cards that destiny had handed him.

That was how Ron, Hermione, and Ginny found him, hands clenched on the window sill, his face set in a grim expression. Slipping her hand into his on one side, Ginny kissed him softly on the cheek, while Hermione slipped an arm around his waist and leaned into his other side. Ron stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Harry was instantly warmed and calmed by the presence of his best friends, and smiled down at Ginny before turning and leaning in suddenly to kiss Ron on the cheek.

“Eww! You know I love you, mate, but I just don’t lean in that direction!” Ron scrubbed a hand over his face as the rest of them laughed.

Making their way up to the hospital wing, Ginny rattling on nervously about how those in her year were dealing with the stress of the upcoming OWLs. Colin Creevy was already being dosed with calming potions, particularly after a double potions class, making the sixth years laugh. Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them, and ushered the teens to the far end of wing, where a lone bed had been isolated behind a bank of curtains. Remus and Professor Snape were already waiting, sitting in the two chairs that flanked the bed. Another row of chairs were lined up along the wall under the windows, close enough to observe, but out of the way should something happen.

Harry hugged his friends, before taking off his shoes and sitting on the bed.

“Alright, Harry?” Remus asked quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I think so, Moony,” using the old Marauders’ nickname for his guardian. “I slept really well, thanks to the sleeping potion Professor Snape gave me. And I feel good this morning.”

“I am glad, as I know that this is going to take a lot of energy out of you.”

Madame Pomfrey walked in with Albus Dumbledore, moving towards the bed, where the medi-witch began to fuss over him. Harry rolled his eyes at her clucking and lay down on the bed at her prompting. Once everyone was certain they were situated, seated, and ready to let Harry make his attempt, he was almost asleep on the bed. Cracking an eye open, he took in the nervous faces, and grumbled at being on display. A smile lit the bright blue eyes of the Headmaster, and Remus patted his shoulder.

“Alright, Harry, go ahead and start.”

Taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes, Harry carefully sunk into himself. He rechecked the walls in his mind, sliding easily along the pathway one last time, before tuning out the outside world. Reaching inward, he drew into his magical core, warming himself in the golden ball of raw magic, and he gathered it . Gently at first and gaining strength as he pushed the golden strands upward, following the nerve synapses up through his body to his brain. Pushing the pure energy through the sealed corridors of his mind, the smooth walls took on a golden glow as he went, searching for the point to push out.

The green glowing lightening bolt shape in the front of his brain loomed large, and Harry directed his magic slowly toward it. As he slowly approached the area, he could see the interwoven areas of red and green, and where they anchored themselves to his skull. In the midst of these strands, pulsed the angry red-black strand, thicker than the other filaments of magic that tethered the dark magic to him. Sliding around slowly, he gathered a ball of gold to him and gently enveloped in.

The reaction was instantaneous, as Harry could feel waves of agony pound against the golden energy. Concentrating totally on his magic, Harry ignored the pain, and the effect it was having on his body. He focused everything he had on the golden ball of pure magic, working on eating through the strand, slowly dissolving it. Angry red energy slammed into the gold ball, and Harry struggled to maintain his concentration. He knew that Voldemort could feel him working on severing part of their link, and was very angry. He also knew that he had to finish what he had started, or his mind would be left totally vulnerable to the evil wizard. With purpose, he kept steady pressure on the golden force, a vague part of him registering the convulsions that seemed to rock the rest of his body.

Little by little, he watched the thick, ugly strand disappear, and he knew that he had been right on target about which strand to isolate. Forged by hatred and a killing curse, the strand had grown thick and strong over the years, being the first part of Harry that had felt Voldemort growing stronger back in his fourth year. Battered, the golden magic was being bombarded by the waves of evil red energy, but he was almost there. Harry could feel himself weakening, his concentration never wavering from his task. Drawing on the reserve of energy at his core, he tried to reinforce the golden ball, but the pain was beginning to color it, turning the outer edge a dull yellow.

Reaching out for more, Harry was eased and reassured by a presence at the periphery of his consciousness. Warmth and strength flowed through him with an incredible feeling of love, strengthening his magic. The golden ball once again glowed iridescent, finally devouring the last of the red-black strand. The fury of the red force was incredible, but Harry had gained the strength to push it completely out of his mind, and suddenly feeling shaky, he slowly pulled himself back. Moving his way slowly back to the core of magic at the heart of him, Harry was surprised to see it glowing bright and strong.

Pulling out, awareness flooded back to him, and the pain slammed in to him like a wall of water. Every part of him pulsed and quivered with agony, and Harry had to force his eyes open. As he did, he became aware of many people bunched around him, the Headmaster’s hands splayed across his forehead, Remus gripping his left hand tightly, and Severus Snape, who had one hand covering the Phoenix pendant, and with other hand held tight to Ginny. As Harry moved his eyes, the only part of him that seemed to be capable of independent movement, he saw that Madame Pomfrey, Ron, and Hermione, were also holding hands, all linked together to where Remus gripped him. No explanation was necessary, and Harry knew that the extra strength that had helped him, had been the love of those gathered around him.

“Thank you,” his voice broke, as he tried to summon a smile.

Hands were dropped, and Poppy Pomfrey shooed everyone to arms length as she checked him over carefully. Allowing Remus to help him, Harry drank greedily from a goblet of water, and slowly sat up. The Potions Master handed him a vial of his potion, followed by a vial of Pepper-Up Potion. The tremors that had run through eased, and the pain abated, as Harry rubbed his hands over his face.

“How do you feel, my boy?”

“Tired, sore, and very very happy, sir,” Harry said softly, “but with all of your help, I think we did it.”

Remus laid a shaky hand on his arm; “I have to admit that I was really scared, Harry, when you started convulsing.”

“How long did it take me?”

“It has been almost four hours since you began your efforts, Mister Potter,” Professor Snape supplied.

That took Harry by surprise; “No wonder I was getting so tired! I was almost done when Voldemort got really angry and he would have succeeded if you all hadn’t found a way to help me. Thank you.”

Albus Dumbledore laid a hand on the top of his head; “Do you think you accomplished what you needed too?”

“I think so, Professor,” Harry managed a smile this time, as he reached a hand toward Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “And I truly believe that you are right about love being the most powerful magic, because Voldemort didn’t stay a chance when he felt it flood through me!”