Looking up as Fawkes trilled a few notes, Snape spotted an owl heading straight for the windows of the headmaster's office, where he was currently trying to deal with more paperwork; in particular, some of the letters that were still coming in about Dumbledore's speech at the Leavetaking Feast. Standing up, he walked over to the bank of windows, opened one, and waited patiently for the owl to arrive.

As it flew in and landed on the perch just inside the window, Snape recognized it as one of the school owls - Incantare, the owl he preferred to use when dealing with confidential information. He'd sent her off to Arthur Weasley yesterday morning requesting information on the caches that the Ministry had seized, and explaining what Lucius Malfoy had claimed he'd done. The rapid turn-around time didn't bode well.

Opening the drawer of Dumbledore's desk, he took out an owl treat and handed it to Incantare with a quiet, "Thank you," in exchange for the letter she was carrying. Sitting back down, he split the seal and opened it.

Professor Snape,

Needless to say, I was quite alarmed at the contents of your letter. Immediately upon receiving it, I checked the storage facility where we have been keeping the confiscated materials, and discovered that you were correct; there are a number of items missing.

As I was not present for the actual raids, and (again, your information is correct) the cataloguing has not yet been done, I can't tell you precisely what items have disappeared. I have, however, summoned those of my people who were directly involved in the raids, and they are currently checking the contents of the facility against what they remember seizing. They should be finished compiling their lists this evening, at which point I will forward copies to Hogwarts for yourself and Headmaster Dumbledore.

As for the items that were left in the facility, I have started cataloguing them myself. So far, they appear to be mainly the sort of supplies available in Knockturn Alley, but that any reputable witch or wizard would refuse to admit owning - with one exception. You may recall the journal - belonging to a certain T. M. Riddle - that caused such problems two years ago? It seems to have turned up in one of the caches. I must say, Harry certainly did a good job destroying it...

And if that cache had held Riddle's diary, what about his other school things? Dumbledore had threatened Lucius about those as well, he seemed to recall... Were they also among the items the Ministry had seized?

Returning his attention to the letter, Snape continued to read.

What is perhaps even more alarming than the missing items themselves, however, is the fact that they went missing. The wards on the storage facility we've been using are set to prevent anyone other than the members of my team from entering, much less removing anything from there. The guards - on all shifts - are Aurors trained to recognize someone who has been placed under Imperius, and they themselves have a high immunity to the curse.

As well, my people know well enough to stay clear of Lucius Malfoy and his group; added to that, the only ones who even know who my people are besides themselves are Dumbledore, Mundungus Fletcher, and myself.

And yet, despite these precautions, the fact remains that items were taken from the facility and ended up in Malfoy's hands - without the wards being broken, which would have alerted us instantly. As I'm sure you can imagine, this disturbs me far more than the details of what was taken, and I anxiously await Dumbledore's opinion on the situation.

As stated above, the compiled lists of what appears to be missing - as well as what remains - will be sent to you as soon as they are completed. Please contact me immediately in the event you receive any further details on how this was accomplished.

Yours,

Arthur Weasley
Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office
Ministry of Magic

Leaning back in the chair, he thought for a moment, and then grabbed a quill and piece of parchment and quickly wrote a note to Dumbledore. Then, attaching Mr. Weasley's letter to it, he opened a small metal box that sat on one corner of the desk and put the letters inside. As soon as he closed it, they would be transported to the linked box, which was in Dumbledore's possession.

Now, he had to wait until Dumbledore received the letters and had a chance to read them, which might not happen until tonight. Therefore, he turned his attention back to the letters piled up on the desk, and opened the next one.

It was from the mother of a now-second year Ravenclaw, very indignant that her son had returned home scared by Dumbledore's comments about Voldemort's resurrection, and pointing out that the Ministry didn't believe that Voldemort had returned.

Snape shook his head. The amount of belief people put in the Ministry is ludicrous... And why, in Merlin's name, wait until the beginning of August to send a letter complaining about her son being scared at the end of June?

Before he could wonder any more about it, however, the flames in the hearth next to the desk flickered, and Dumbledore's head appeared. Obviously he'd read the letters immediately.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Albus," Snape acknowledged, turning to face the hearth. "I assume you received the letters?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, his expression becoming serious. "And I must agree with Arthur - the most alarming news at the moment is not that Voldemort has whatever was removed from the seized caches, but that Lucius Malfoy was able to get past the wards without removing or breaking them."

"Do you have any idea how he could have done it?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore's head moved in a negative gesture. "No - not yet, at least. I would appreciate it if you would do some research into that for me."

Rather than protest, Snape actually felt pleased. He much preferred research to the type of paperwork he was stuck with at the moment.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, the twinkle returning to the headmaster's eyes, "how is Mr. Potter doing? The tutorial sessions have started, have they not?"

"Yes, they have," Snape agreed. For some reason, the brightness of that irritating twinkle made him nervous, and he would have preferred to return to the subject of the violated wards. Nonetheless, there were some matters that needed to be discussed, concerning Potter. "Are we secure?"

"As secure as I can possibly make us," Dumbledore replied. "We're not on the network - this is a separate linkage directly between these two fireplaces, and both of them are thoroughly warded. We are as secure as if we were both in my office discussing this."

Which meant almost completely secure. It was that 'almost', however, that was causing Snape some problems. Paranoia was very much a way of life for him, if not quite as obviously as Mad-Eye Moody; it was the only way he'd survived for as long as he had.

"You were quite correct about his potential," he said obliquely.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes brightened even further, leaving Snape with the sinking feeling that yes, Dumbledore had known this already, and also knew a few other things that he had yet to discover. He hated that.

"Wonderful!" the headmaster was saying. "That is excellent news."

"Mr. Potter is not terribly happy about it, however," Snape continued, remembering the boy's expression when he'd figured it out. "In fact, I would say that he was rather dismayed by the information."

"Yes, well, young Mr. Potter is not fond of being different," Dumbledore commented. "A common problem for adolescents, made somewhat worse for him by who he is - and the circumstances surrounding his discovery of the fact that he is a Parselmouth. Not to mention the way in which he discovered he was a wizard in the first place..."

Snape chose to ignore the comment. "He has done reasonably well in his first assignment and the first full lesson, but there are definitely areas in which he needs to improve. Critical thinking, for one... and security consciousness as well. He was not terribly pleased about the number of secrets that need to be kept - particularly the ones he needs to keep from his friends."

"Does he understand why they have to remain secret?" Dumbledore asked, a touch of anxiety in his voice.

"Yes, he's quite aware of the reasons - I made certain to explain them to him." He had not wanted to deal with the trouble that might result if Potter decided to ignore the restrictions because he didn't understand their importance. Snape paused for a moment, noticing that Dumbledore looked faintly relieved by that assurance, and then added, "I have also ordered him to inform me whenever he has a vision. He saw the entire meeting two nights ago, but I didn't find out about it until he mentioned it at the end of his lesson yesterday."

"The effects of the curse--" Dumbledore started.

"I gave him several doses of the potion - in individual phials - the day before yesterday. He took one when he woke up after the vision, and was fine by the afternoon," Snape replied.

"Good." It was Dumbledore's turn to pause. "So, you believe that the lessons will go well?"

"I don't care very much for speculation based on a single occurrence... but if he continues to apply himself, and is willing to unlearn certain of his bad habits, I believe there is a reasonably good chance, yes."

"Good, good. Is there anything else you feel we need to discuss?"

Snape frowned thoughtfully. He did want to discuss Potter's visions in greater detail - most particularly the need for something to help the boy deal with them - with Dumbledore; but, like the matter of the Sensitive's gift, it was something he didn't care to discuss through the fireplace, no matter how secure it might be. And considering that Potter had apparently been dealing with them by himself for the past month... it could wait one more week. "Nothing that cannot wait," he replied. "Although," he added, shooting a quick glance at the desk, "I would like to register a complaint concerning the amount of paperwork that was left for me to deal with..."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Simply attempting to make sure you understand what comes with the job," the headmaster said, and then his head disappeared and the flames flickered again as the connection was closed.

Snape frowned, wondering about the meaning behind that comment for a moment, and then dismissed it. Instead, glancing at the clock that hung on one wall, he realized that it was almost noon - and he still had to prepare for today's lesson with Potter.

Getting up from the desk - and feeling more than a little bit pleased that, between Potter's tutorial sessions and the research Dumbledore had asked him to do, he now had an excuse to avoid the paperwork - he headed down to his office.

Summoning one of the house-elves - not Dobby, this time - he requested a light lunch to be delivered to him here, and then began his preparations.

Well, whatever had happened to the Map, Harry did wish that he had it back. He'd managed to find a few corridors that he was pretty sure he'd never seen on it, and he was wondering if it was because the Marauders had never found them, or if they were only there in the summer, when the students generally weren't. With a castle like Hogwarts, either explanation was possible.

Either way, it had been interesting to explore places in the castle he'd never seen before. He'd found a number of rooms, including a few that he wanted to come back to and examine more carefully; and he'd had quite a bit of time to think.

It was the first time he'd had the chance to think uninterrupted and undistracted since Snape had taken him from the Dursleys over four days ago, and he was determined to take advantage of it.

Mostly, he ended up thinking about Snape.

It wasn't entirely surprising; after all, Snape had: rescued him from the Dursleys (even if the Potions master didn't know that Harry considered it a rescue); volunteered - actually volunteered! - to tutor him in Defence; given him stores of the Levatio Potion; and, perhaps most astonishing, had listened and been willing to talk to him a bit about the latest vision.

That discussion had actually answered his question about Snape's feelings concerning the... 'entertainment'... Lucius Malfoy had arranged - without his asking the question directly, which had definitely been a relief. Harry had seen a flicker of revulsion cross Snape's face when he'd confirmed that he had seen everything, which had been enough to let him know that the Potions master had been as disgusted and repulsed as he had by what had happened.

It gave them something in common, something that both of them agreed on. And considering that he was going to be spending the next month dealing with Snape for three to four hours every day - except maybe weekends - at a minimum, the more things he found that they agreed upon, the better. Harry didn't particularly want to spend every day fighting and getting in trouble with Snape.

Although we've done fairly well so far... came the thought.

They had, actually. His two conversations with Snape while he'd still been in the hospital wing had been reasonably civil - certainly as civil as they'd ever been with the Head of Slytherin - and the lesson yesterday hadn't been too bad at all. He'd even gotten some compliments from Snape, which he would have considered to be absolutely impossible before these past few days.

Harry was still thinking about those compliments - and what they might possibly mean - when Dobby appeared and told him it was noon, and reminded him that he'd requested lunch for then.

He followed Dobby down to the kitchens, his thoughts going to his next tutorial session. Despite the truce he and Snape had apparently established, he had a bad feeling about it - after all, it was obviously going to concern potions, as Snape had told him to bring only the Potions text with him. And he never did well at Potions.

Harry was fairly sure he wasn't going to be getting any compliments during this lesson...

An hour later, Harry knocked on the door of Snape's office. He'd only nibbled at his lunch, and then had hurried up to the Tower to retrieve his things and get down to the dungeons before one o'clock. As it was, he'd only just made it.

"Come in," called Snape's voice.

Opening the door cautiously, Harry slipped into the room.

Yesterday, there had been only Snape's desk and chair, two rough, wooden chairs - for students - and shelves full of books and the same glass bottles of disgusting potions ingredients Harry had seen in second year. Today, there was also a large table in the middle of the room, with about twenty or thirty phials on it.

Snape was sitting behind his desk, a large book open in front of him. He stood up as Harry entered, and silently held out his hand.

Harry put his bookbag down next to the table and pulled his assignment out. "Here, Professor," he said, handing it to Snape. Then he added, a touch apprehensively, "You didn't say how long you wanted it to be, so I made it about three feet--"

The look of irritation - he was getting a lot of practice in recognizing that particular expression - that crossed Snape's face stopped his explanation immediately.

"Potter, what did I say about these lessons and grades?" the Potions master demanded.

Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd obviously made some sort of mistake... "That they wouldn't be graded?" he asked hesitantly.

"And?" Snape prompted.

The sinking feeling got worse. "That they... don't have anything to do with academics?"

"You do remember - more or less, at least; so why are you treating this as an assignment I gave you in class?" The irritated expression on Snape's face was getting clearer.

"Well... you didn't say how long it should be... and I..." Harry began, and then trailed off as Snape's glare became darker.

The Potions master shook his head. "I was under the distinct impression - obviously incorrect - that you were going to make an effort to use your brain during these lessons," he snapped. "The assignments I give you - at least at the present time - are not research assignments, Potter. They deal with your current understanding of the subject in question, based on your past experience and knowledge, and any issues we discuss during these sessions. There is no required length; it will be whatever length is needed for you to feel you have written down whatever is necessary and relevant to the assignment."

Harry winced inwardly.

Snape dropped his assignment scroll back into his hand. "You will re-write that tonight," he said coldly. "This time, concentrate on the assignment itself, not what length your response should be. I do not care whether it is one foot or ten - only that you write what is necessary to complete the assignment you were given."

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. He ignored the little voice that told him to yell at Snape for not making things clear yesterday; he had no desire to get into any more trouble than he was already in. Gryffindor or not, he wasn't a fool.

Snape then gestured to the phials on the table. "Today's lesson, as I assume you realized," he said, his tone cold, "involves potions. Each potion on the table can be found in 101 Useful Potions for Dark Situations. Each one can be smelled and touched safely, although not all of them are safe to ingest. You are to examine each one, and write down on the parchment attached to it which potion it is. You are permitted to make use of the book. Let me know when you have finished."

With that, the Potions master returned to his desk and started to read the open book, leaving Harry to stare at the table and the potions on it in dismay.

Bloody hell... Harry slowly approached the table, a feeling of dread growing in him as he took note of the number. Definitely closer to thirty than twenty.

"I suggest you get started, Mr. Potter," Snape said, not even looking up from the book. "You have three hours in which to finish - and I will not be pleased if any potions are left unlabeled at the end of that time."

Wincing again, Harry pulled one of the chairs over to the table, and then bent down and took 101 Useful Potions for Dark Situations out of his bag. Opening it up, he started to skim through it, hoping that it would give him some hints on where to start - because he had no idea.

Flicking through the section on dealing with Dark Creatures, Harry's eye was caught by a potion designed to repel werewolves. Absently reading through the description and the attached anecdote, his attention was caught by a note concerning the colour. By itself, the potion was a bright, almost luminescent purple, but when applied to human skin it became transparent.

None of the potions on the table were bright purple - but they were a bunch of different colours, and Snape had said that they were safe to the touch - and to smell...

Harry thought about that for a long moment, working out a plan, and then put the book to one side and started arranging the potion bottles in rows. He would test each one, write down its distinguishing characteristics - colour, smell, how it felt and reacted to human skin - and then check through the book to see if he could find out what they were based on that.

Snape looked up from the book he'd been reading as Potter walked up to his desk. "Yes, Potter?" he demanded, quickly checking the time. Five minutes to three - it had taken the boy almost two hours to identify twenty-seven potions. He was definitely going to have to learn to be faster.

"I've finished, sir," the boy said. His tone was somewhat hesitant, however, and Snape was reasonably sure he knew why.

"So, you are certain your labeling is correct?" the Potions master inquired, one eyebrow going up sceptically.

Apparently Potter was in the mood to show a bit of Gryffindor backbone. "As certain as I can be with the resources I have," the boy returned.

"Very well; I shall check them." Standing up, Snape walked over to the table and began picking up the potion bottles and checking the attached labels.

Potter had actually managed to do quite well, though he would sooner kiss Minerva in front of the students than admit that out loud. It appeared that he had managed to learn at least a little bit in four years of Potions classes. Nonetheless...

"These five are incorrect," he said finally, separating five phials - one containing a bright green potion, two with potions in different shades of red, one with a dull orange potion, and the last one containing a purple potion so dark it was almost black - and putting them to one side.

Now, to make sure he understands what I was telling him at the beginning of this lesson... Snape caught Potter's eyes with his own. "If this had been a Potions exam, you would have scraped by with a... barely acceptable mark. On the other hand, if this had been a real-life situation, you would quite probably have been in serious difficulty. As a result, I suggest that you make an effort to identify these five correctly within the next twenty minutes." With that, he returned to his desk.

There had been irritation and resentment in Potter's expression at the order; but at the same time, Snape had seen a flicker of comprehension in his eyes. That managed to ease the aggravation he'd been feeling since the boy had made that idiotic comment about his assignment.

Ease it, but not erase it.

He had been under the impression, after yesterday's lesson, that Potter had understood the differences between what he was taught during the school year and what Snape was teaching him now, but it appeared he had been mistaken. At this rate, it was going to take him longer than he'd thought to teach the boy to use his brain for more than just Quidditch and getting into trouble.

Pushing his frustration at that fact away - there was nothing to do about it but continue with the lessons as planned - Snape refocused his attention on the book in front of him. Entitled Locks, Wards, and Guards, it listed all of the common methods of warding, as well as several uncommon ones, and ways to get past them. It was unlikely that he would find the answer to what Lucius had done in here, but it was nevertheless an excellent starting point for his research.

The twenty minutes were almost up when Snape felt Potter's eyes on him. Looking up, he saw the boy standing by the table, the uncertain look back on his face.

"What is it, Potter?" he demanded sharply.

Potter started to open his mouth, hesitated, then took a deep breath and said, "I can't identify them, sir."

Snape leaned back in his chair. Considering the potions in question, and the fact that Potter had identified them incorrectly on the first go-round, he wasn't in the least bit surprised. However... "And it has taken you nearly twenty minutes to come to this conclusion?" he inquired coldly. The mild irritation he'd felt at the beginning of this lesson was getting stronger. Was Potter even bothering to think?

"More like five," the boy muttered uncomfortably.

Snape raised his eyebrow again, giving Potter a disdainful look. "In other words, you wasted almost fifteen minutes dithering over how to tell me that you could not do the task I assigned you," he said, in that same slow, contemptuous tone he'd applied to such effect Friday night.

"No, I spent almost fifteen minutes trying to see if I could figure out a better way to do it!" Potter retorted. He was using anger to cover embarrassment, Snape knew. "I wasn't wasting time!"

"Did you come to any helpful conclusions? Have any insights into other methods of testing?" Snape returned, letting a touch of sarcastic amusement enter his tone. He knew the answer to that as well as the boy did.

Potter lowered his eyes. "No," he admitted reluctantly.

"So you wasted time that could have been more profitably spent actually learning," Snape concluded.

The anger returned to Potter's face, but his voice didn't reflect it as he said, "Learning what, sir?"

Snape shook his head. "Those alternate methods of testing you were trying so hard to figure out, Mr. Potter."

Standing up, he walked over to the table and the five phials Potter hadn't been able to identify. "Sit down," he ordered.

The boy sat down on the chair and waited.

"Now, how did you identify the other potions?"

Potter worried his lower lip. "I made a list of each of their characteristics - colour and smell, mostly, or how they reacted on human skin - and then went through the book to find potions that matched those characteristics. The five that I haven't been able to figure out... there's more than one potion listed with the same characteristics as each of them."

Snape sneered. "Typical Gryffindor thinking," he said, in a cutting tone. It wasn't that badly done, actually, but the boy hadn't been thorough enough; and he only had a month to teach him, after all.

Potter stared at him, an insulted expression on his face. "What do you mean, sir?"

More Gryffindor backbone. Well, Potter had never been too afraid to stand up to him before, so it wasn't exactly a surprise. "You are only looking at the surface, Potter. Has it occurred to you to check such things as the viscosity of the potions?"

"But the book doesn't--" Potter started.

Snape's glare shut him up rapidly. "As I said, you are only looking at the surface. You have had four years of Potions, Potter. While I am very much aware that your friendship with Miss Granger is the only reason you have passed with reasonable marks each year, I find it inconceivable that you have learned nothing."

Potter flushed at that, but waited for Snape to continue.

Snape made sure that his tone was ice-cold when he did so. "Check the ingredients for each of the possibilities, Potter. There are certain ingredients that affect the texture and viscosity of potions. Use your brain, for once."

Potter went pale with anger at that, looking even more furious than he had earlier. He was too easy to read; Snape made a mental note to add some lessons in controlling one's emotions and expressions to the curriculum he had planned as he strode back to his desk and sat down.

Returning his attention to the book, he added, "Do not just sit there gaping at me, Potter. You have half an hour left to identify those potions. Considering your efforts thus far, I suggest you make an effort to hurry."

Today's lesson had not gone well; certainly nowhere near as well as yesterday's. Snape had been irritated to begin with, Harry suspected; and he had the feeling that the situation with yesterday's assignment and the fact that he still hadn't been able to identify those five potions - even with the suggestion Snape had given him - had only made things worse.

As a result of his inability to figure out what the unknown potions were, Snape had proceeded to give him a lecture - which had lasted almost two hours - on each potion and its ingredients. They'd all been healing potions - which had made the whole thing somewhat worse, because he'd been really interested in that section of 101 Useful Potions - so Harry hadn't been terribly surprised when today's assignment was to write out a list of common ingredients for healing potions and how to identify them. Luckily, Harry had started taking notes as soon as Snape started the lecture, not wanting to be caught out the same way he had been yesterday, so he had most of the information he would need already written down.

He knew he should summon Dobby and ask for dinner - it was coming up on six o'clock - but there were some things he wanted to think about first, and he knew that he was going to have to get to work on his re-write of the Defence and Dark Arts essay as soon as he finished dinner.

So far, he'd had only two of these tutorial sessions with Snape - which wasn't really enough to figure out any sort of pattern - and a few conversations with him... but already Harry had noticed several differences between the way Snape was acting now and the way he acted during the school year.

For one thing, although the past few hours had proved that Snape still didn't like him, and didn't hesitate to snap at him, the Potions master hadn't shown any of the sheer viciousness that Harry was accustomed to receiving from him during the school year. And even though today's session hadn't been what Harry would call a success, it hadn't exactly been an unmitigated disaster either. He hadn't been able to identify five potions - but had been able to do so for the other twenty-two.

And Snape had offered him a compliment on it! Well, a very Snape-ish compliment, anyway... "If this had been a Potions exam, you would have scraped by with a... barely acceptable mark." It was the first time he'd ever heard Snape say anything that might suggest he wasn't an absolute idiot when it came to Potions.

Which brought him back to the same point in his thoughts he'd been at when Dobby had told him it was lunchtime.

Snape was giving him compliments on his work. The only ones he'd ever heard that happening with before were Slytherins - especially Malfoy. Certainly Harry knew of no other Gryffindors who had ever received praise or compliments from Snape. Ever.

As for what it all meant, however... Harry wasn't sure. He had no idea why Snape was behaving differently to him now, much less why the Potions master had volunteered to do these tutoring sessions. It still didn't really make sense; not even considering the fact that they were both involved - in different ways - in the war against Voldemort.

Well, he'd figure it out sooner or later - he always did.

And now that I've decided I still don't understand Snape, I think I'd better get dinner. It's going to take me a while to re-write that essay...

Abruptly, Harry felt his scar start to hurt, and realized that the nightmare he'd been having about the Third Task had become a vision as one of the black-robed figures - not one of the ones Harry recognized - stepped forward.

"You have them?" came the cold voice that Harry recognized as Voldemort's as his field of view expanded.

They were in a large room; there was a raised dais at the end of it, and Voldemort was seated on a chair set in the centre of the dais. The Death Eaters were in a wide, ragged semi-circle grouped around it - with the exception of Wormtail, who was standing off to one side, looking as though he was trying to appear invisible.

"Yes, my Lord, I managed to remove the important contents of the cache before the Ministry team arrived," the Death Eater in the centre of the circle - the one who had stepped forward - replied.

No, definitely not someone he recognized - not even the voice was familiar. Harry looked around, checking for the Death Eaters he was familiar with. He'd already located Wormtail, and Lucius Malfoy was standing at one end of the semi-circle, closest to the dais, with Avery next to him. He also recognized the blocky figures of Crabbe and Goyle Sr. near the middle, and there were a few more familiar figures whose names he didn't yet know.

No sign of Snape, though. Either he hadn't yet arrived, or he hadn't been summoned. Harry couldn't help but wonder which.

"Excellent," Voldemort was saying, and Harry instantly snapped his attention back to what was going on. If Snape wasn't here, he would be Dumbledore's only source of information about this meeting... "Did you see the Ministry officials?"

"N-no, my Lord... I thought it better not to be nearby when they arrived," the Death Eater in question replied.

The burning pain in Harry's scar flared for a moment - Voldemort was obviously not pleased by this answer. "Crucio," the Dark Lord said, his tone careless as he pointed his wand at the man, and held it on him for almost a minute - Harry thought, at least. He couldn't tell for certain, since he was also feeling a portion of the pain.

Then the Dark Lord turned to Mr. Malfoy. "Lucius?" he demanded. "What information have you been able to obtain for me concerning these raids?"

"The man in charge is named Arthur Weasley," Malfoy said, and Harry felt a flicker of surprise - followed swiftly by concern. If Malfoy and Voldemort knew about Mr. Weasley, then the entire Weasley family was in danger...

"Weasley, you say?" Voldemort repeated thoughtfully.

"He's a Muggle-loving fool," Malfoy said coldly. "One of Dumbledore's people. He's pureblood, but a disgrace - absolutely fascinated with Muggles. And his youngest son is the best friend of Harry Potter."

Harry winced as the pain from his scar increased. It never failed - whenever he was mentioned, Voldemort got so furious that Harry ended up with a horrendous headache that was entirely separate from any pain due to the Cruciatus curses.

"You sound almost eager to have me attack this Weasley, Lucius," Voldemort said, and despite the heavy cloak and the white mask, Harry saw Malfoy flinch at the tone of the Dark Lord's voice.

"Only because he is a threat to us, my Lord," Malfoy said quickly. "He does not hold a high rank in the Ministry, but he is well-respected by a number of people superior to him. Through him, Dumbledore gains support in the Ministry, and more and more people will realize that you have returned."

"Perhaps," Voldemort said carelessly. "So long as Cornelius Fudge continues to believe otherwise, however, the Ministry as a whole is not a threat."

"But--" Malfoy started.

Harry winced again, this time in anticipation... and wasn't surprised when Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco's father and hissed, "Crucio!"

He held Malfoy under the curse for closer to two minutes - with Harry feeling every second of it - before releasing him. "You know better than to argue with me, Lucius," the Dark Lord said coldly. "As you yourself said, the Weasleys are purebloods. Do try to remember that you were in Slytherin... We cannot attack any pureblood families until it is time. Fudge will continue to believe attacks on Muggles and Mudbloods are random attacks, like that... foolishness... at the Quidditch World Cup last year; but the moment there is an attack on a pureblood family, he will have to acknowledge that I have returned, at which point he will turn to Dumbledore. The longer it takes until that happens, the better. I will not let you destroy my plans for a bit of petty revenge.

"Now, how many more caches have items that need to be recovered?"

"Two or th--" Malfoy started to say.

Suddenly, Harry felt things start to swirl around him, and he slipped out of the vision.

Harry jerked bolt upright, breathing heavily. He could feel the hints of pain, and the peculiar chill from the vision-curses, and carefully pulled his wand out from under his pillow and whispered, "Lumos!" Not that he needed to whisper, considering that no one else was in residence, but it was habit.

Climbing out of bed, he walked over to his trunk, opened it, and pulled out both the box containing the doses of Levatio, and his vision-journal. He tossed the journal on his bed, and then opened the box and pulled out one of the phials.

Unstoppering the tiny glass bottle, Harry swallowed the contents - and then froze as he felt the warmth from the potion go through him, battling the chill. It felt vaguely similar to the probing Snape had done Tuesday afternoon, and Harry wondered if the strange chill he always seemed to feel after the visions was the way he sensed the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Something to ask Snape when he saw him this afternoon...

No, he'd promised to tell Snape first thing in the morning if he had any visions. The Potions master had been quite insistent about it.

Well, it does make sense, Harry reflected, as he put the now-empty phial back in the box and then, rather than returning it to his trunk, slipped it into the drawer in his bedside table. It would be quicker and easier to get to it if he kept it there. After all, the sooner I relay any information I get from the visions, the more time Dumbledore and everyone have to deal with it. And Snape did say that he had some way to communicate with Dumbledore...

Picking up his journal, he opened it, flipping quickly past the pages where he described the vision he'd had Monday night - he really didn't want to re-read the description of what had been done to the woman and her children - to a new page. Taking his quill off the top of his bedside table, where he'd left it when he'd finished the re-write of Tuesday's assignment, he inked it and began writing down what had happened in the vision.

Considering the fact that nothing horrific had happened, Harry figured he would probably be able to get back to sleep after he finished. He'd write out a report for Dumbledore as soon as he woke up in the morning, and he'd give it to Snape when he went to tell the Potions master about the vision.

The potion should have been a warm golden colour, based on the interaction of the ingredients and the amount of time he'd heated it for yesterday evening, but instead it was a peculiar greenish-bronze, almost verdigris.

I wonder... could it have been the powdered Murtlap growths? Since I put them in immediately after the coral snake venom, perhaps they reacted together before the venom had time to diffuse... That seems to be the most likely possibility. He would have to test it, of course.

However, the thought of ingredient interactions reminded him of what had happened yesterday afternoon.

That seems to have been Potter's main stumbling block with that exercise, the Potions master reflected, still studying the colour of his most recent experiment. He doesn't understand how potion ingredients interact with one another. Perhaps if I--

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Snape gritted his teeth. It was Potter - it had to be. Filch knew better than to interrupt him; and if he absolutely had to - say if there was a disaster in the making - he wouldn't bother to knock.

What the bloody hell does the brat want? Snape thought, irritated, as he put his teacup down on the breakfast tray on his desk and walked over to open the door. It was too early to have to deal with him right now.

"What is it, Potter?" he growled, glaring at the boy standing in the corridor.

Potter met his eyes calmly. "You asked me to tell you whenever I had a vision, sir," he replied.

He hadn't felt any summoning... but then, he wasn't summoned to every meeting. Voldemort still didn't trust him, and Snape was well aware that the only reason the Dark Lord hadn't killed him out of hand was the fact that he was, after all, the best Potions master in the British Isles, and the only one who was - so Voldemort thought - a Death Eater.

"Very well," he said, moving out of the way and gesturing for Potter to enter. "Come in, and tell me what happened."

The boy sat down in the same chair he'd used yesterday, and calmly recited the events of his vision, even describing the tone of each person's voice.

"Voldemort asked how many more caches had things that they still need to recover, and Malfoy said that there were two or three," Potter finished. "I don't know if he said anything else, though, because that was when the vision ended and I woke up."

Snape nodded slowly as he thought about the implications of what Potter had seen and heard. None of it was good - particularly not the explanation for why there hadn't been more than three attacks over the past month. He'd been wondering about that, and he knew Dumbledore had as well.

Of course, the news that there were only two or three more caches they needed to access was also alarming; it meant that Fletcher and the mutt were going to have to work faster, and Arthur Weasley was going to have to be ready.

In fact, the only good thing was that the Weasleys were going to be safe from direct attack - for a little while, at least.

Then, suddenly realizing that Potter was still sitting there, Snape looked at him. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said. "I will inform Professor Dumbledore--"

"Here," the boy said, pulling a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "I wrote down what happened for him."

Snape took the parchment from him and gave it a quick glance. "Very well, I will pass this along to him." He paused, and studied the boy for a moment. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Potter looked startled at the question. "Er... no, sir. I was... going to... get some after telling you, since you said to let you know first thing in the morning - I just quickly wrote the report..."

Snape snapped his fingers, and one of the house-elves appeared instantly. "Get Mr. Potter some breakfast," he ordered. "Bring it up to the Gryffindor common room."

"Yes, Professor Snape, sir," the house-elf replied quickly, and disappeared again.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Snape continued, turning back to the boy, "I suggest you go have your breakfast, and then get to work on your assignments. I will see you down here at one o'clock."

"Yes, sir," Potter replied, standing up and heading toward the door. He looked rather puzzled, but didn't ask any questions before leaving.

Once Potter had gone, Snape quickly bottled the experimental potion - he'd test it later, after today's tutorial session - and then headed up to the headmaster's office, to send Potter's report off to Dumbledore.