Sitting on the Common Room floor, Harry felt numb. Hermione's news had hit him hard. Seamus' parents had been brutally murdered.

The room was filled with upset students. It wasn't that everyone was particularly close to the boy. And sure, they'd read about Death Eater attacks in the paper—war was scary, upsetting, and horrible—but this hit close to home. Seamus was one of theirs… and his parents were dead.

Although this event was similar to Cedric's death—both sudden and personal—the Hufflepuff prefect's death had been met with uncertainty. They didn't really know what had happened at the time. Dumbledore had told them about Voldemort's return… yet most of them weren't able to understand the full impact. And then they returned home, only to have their parents and the ministry contradict the Headmaster's words.

But now the Wizarding World knew the truth, Voldemort was back. On a daily basis they all received news of his various attacks. Professor McGonagall's announcement—that Seamus' parents had been tortured and killed—served as a harsh reminder that all of their families were vulnerable. Every Muggleborn and Halfblood wizard thought of his or her loved ones at home. Not even Pureblood families were out of danger, as many were fighting against Voldemort.

Nobody felt safe. Their eyes darted around the room, looking from face to face for answers. Many eyes unconsciously looked to Harry… to the Boy Who Lived. Some said he was to be their savior.

Meanwhile, Harry felt quite differently. His first reaction was sorrow; he understood what his fellow housemate was going through. Harry had lost his own parents and his godfather too. And yet, he realized, Seamus' pain must be far worse. Harry was too little when his parents died and had only known Sirius for a couple of years. Seamus' pain must be far deeper, Harry thought.

Then Harry felt guilty. He couldn't avoid thinking that he could have helped, that he should have helped. If only he had recognized Seamus' features in his father's face. Perhaps there had still been time. If he told Dumbledore… maybe they could have sent aurors…

Harry noticed how the other students kept looking at him. He was sure they knew. They all knew how he'd had a vision of the Finnigans' death. And he had done nothing. Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to explain to them all how sorry he was… If only he could go back…

In fact, it was his fault Voldemort had resurrected in the first place. If it wasn't for his blood… if he hadn't let Pettigrew escape… if only…

His first instinct was to go to Snape. The man would help him.

But why hadn't Snape warned him? Surely the Potion's Master had known about Seamus' parents, the man could have said something. That is, if Snape wanted to bother with Harry's emotional reaction…

And then Harry felt angry and somewhat betrayed… why didn't Snape say anything?

After a while, Harry just felt confused. There was too many emotions swimming around in his head and he didn't know what to do. Unable to stand the common room any longer, Harry went to bed.

xxxxx

The Great Hall was filled with a mixture of emotion.

The morning post was decidedly slim. Those that received their copy of the Daily Prophet knew why. One headline read, "Owl Flu Cripples Communication." The article speculated the flu might be linked to You-Know-Who.

But that was just a small story, buried by several others. Seamus' parents weren't the only ones who'd been murdered that night. There was also news of random floo attacks, where people showed up at their destination dead.

Another report detailed a rush at Gringott's. Many people had come to empty their vaults. When the bank finally closed for the night, a crowd of angry wizards had nearly started a riot.

Many families were leaving Europe, fleeing to the Americas. Shops were closed, business was at a stand still, and as of yet, there was "no comment" from the Ministry.

Harry looked around at the Great Hall. Many of the students looked afraid—nearly panicked.

And yet, there were still a large number of students oblivious to the current events. Instead they talked excitedly about the upcoming Quidditch game after breakfast. Some were giggling over what they would wear for the dance that evening.

Harry's eyes traveled over to the Slytherin table. He expected Draco to be gloating, but he wasn't. The boy was moving food around on his plate, his pale face even whiter than normal.

Scanning down the table, Harry was startled to make eye contact with Gregory Goyle. The boy looked away quickly, as did Crabbe. Harry felt like storming over and demanding to know what they were looking at. But then he noticed quite a few students looking at him.

All wore the same pleading looks. Save us.

Harry knew it was his duty. He knew he had to kill Voldemort—or be killed—but he didn't know how to do it.

Unconsciously, his eyes moved to the head table, to Snape. A small part of him lit up when he saw the man looking back at him. Even though Snape's features were blank, Harry knew the man was watching him, studying him. It made him feel better; to know Snape was looking out for him. He almost forgot that Snape hadn't bothered to tell him about the Finnigans…almost.

With a sigh, Harry looked away and continued to poke at his food.

"My first game as a captain," Ron said, "and all this stuff has to happen."

"Oh Ronald," Hermione chided. "Not everything revolves around Quidditch. Stop being so selfish."

Ron continued to talk, not reacting at all to what she said. "Seamus was one of the biggest fans. Remember how he always made a sign? We won't have our sign this time."

"You're worried about our sign?" Ginny snapped. "Who cares about a stupid sign?"

"It's not fair," Ron continued. "We should all be excited and nervous about the game. Seamus should be here with us."

"Life is not fair," Harry replied, getting up from the table.

Without further conversation, Ron got up as well and both boys made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Neither one commented on the fact they were over an hour early for the match. Silently, they got dressed into their game robes and then sat on the bench, staring at the wall.

"Remember Seamus at tryouts?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, "he wanted to be a beater."

"He couldn't fly and hold onto the bat at the same time."

"He overshoot the bludger and nearly fell off his broom."

"It was an easy decision to cut him."

"Yeah."

"I wonder sometimes, how much of it was nerves."

Harry looked over to Ron, "huh?"

"You know, with me, I was always so nervous. I made the stupidest mistakes. What if the same were true of Seamus?"

"Our beaters are really good Ron, even if Seamus was just nervous, we would have chosen the same people."

"I suppose it's a good thing we didn't chose Seamus, I mean he wouldn't have been able to play anyway."

Harry stared at Ron in shock. He couldn’t decide whether or not to sock the boy. Did the redhead have to be so self centered? He opened his mouth to speak, but Ron cut him off.

"I can't help thinking who's next? You know. Like your godfather died. Seamus' parents… who else is going to lose their family? Me? Hermione? And what am I doing about it?"

There was a short pause, where Harry almost had the chance to speak, but Ron continued.

"You're going to be an Auror and whatever Hermione decides to do, I'm sure it will be helpful. But me… I'm going to be an animal keeper. What good is that?"

"Well, Charlie does a lot for the order…"

"Charlie is Charlie, I'm just Ron. I can't do anything! There's a war Harry! I need to help in some way. You know, I'd be an Auror if I could, but I didn't get a high enough grade on my Potions OWL."

Harry would kill to be "just Harry," he hated being the Boy Who Lived. "Ron, did you know that it's my responsibility to kill Voldemort?"

"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "Oh Harry, don't be an idiot. I know a lot of people think you're going to save the world again, but you're just sixteen. When I said I wanted to be doing something, I meant taking down some death eaters, or something…"

"Ron, it was in the prophecy, the one Voldemort was after in the Department of Mysteries."

"But it was destroyed."

"Dumbledore knew what it said and he told me. I'm supposed to kill Voldemort or be killed. That's why Voldemort came after me when I was a baby. He heard a part of it, and tried to kill me first."

"That's insane Harry. How can you destroy You-Know-Who? This prophecy sounds like something Trelawney would think up."

Harry fought the urge to blush. He knew there was no way to convince Ron that this time, Trelawney had actually made a real prophecy. "Look Ron, trust me, I know how unbelievable it is. But it's my duty. I have to kill Voldemort or be killed."

Silence consumed the conversation, as neither boy knew what to say. Harry had never told any of his friends about the prophecy—he didn't even know if he was really allowed to. It made him feel a bit better though, letting Ron know. And now he was worried about his friend's reaction. A part of him knew he was being irrational, but he feared that Ron would suddenly get up and storm away.

"Well, I suppose you've killed him before. As a baby no less. If anyone is going to kill You-Know-Who, than it would have to be the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry turned to scowl at his friend, but he was wrapped into a headlock before he knew it. He punched Ron in the ribs in order to be freed. Without warning, he was released and Ron became serious again.

"I want you to know Harry," he said, staring into the smaller boys eyes, "I will always be by your side. No matter what. If you have to kill You-Know-Who, I'll be right behind you, watching your back."

Harry nodded and they both returned to staring blankly at the wall. Soon the other Gryffindor boys would be wandering in to change. "Um Ron," Harry said.

"Hhmm."

"Don't tell anyone, about the prophecy. I haven't told Hermione or anyone. I don't know if I was even supposed to tell you."

"Probably not," Ron replied. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secret. You should tell Hermione though, she'd want to help."

"Yeah, she'd be in the library, looking up 'ways to bring down a dark lord.'"

They both chuckled a little—too subdued for a full on laugh—and continued to wait for the match to begin.

xxxxx

In the last huddle before the game, the Gryffindors all circled around Ron. It was traditional for the captain to say a short inspirational speech. All the sixth year Gryffindor boys were well aware of how seriously Ron took this part of his captain position. For the past week the boy had stayed up late, hidden behind his maroon bedcurtains, practicing various versions of his speech. And now it was time.

Ron looked over the rest of the team, swallowing hard. Harry hoped his friend wouldn't lose his nerve, the boy would be embarrassed for weeks. Ginny stood with her arms crossed, soon her foot started to tap. Spit it out Ron, Harry thought.

Just before the doors opened, Ron spoke, "For Seamus." He was almost too quiet to be heard. Without waiting for a response, he nodded to his team, and turned towards the pitch.

The others all clung a bit more tightly to their brooms. With conviction, any Gryffindor was a formidable enemy, and they were ready for the game.

For Seamus, Harry thought, mounting his broom.

The doors swung open and they were out like a shot.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry could hear the announcer calling the game over the noise of the crowd. He was also somewhat aware of the slight chill and the heaviness of the air, threatening rain. Well above the other players, Harry focused solely on spotting the snitch. Off to the side, he noticed a yellow blur that was undoubtedly the Hufflepuff seeker. Under normal circumstances, Harry would be flooded with guilt, worrying over Cedric. But at this moment, his only thoughts were for Seamus.

The Hufflepuffs never knew what hit them. The snitch was particularly nasty that day, staying hidden for a long time. Meanwhile, the Gryffindor chasers were quite merciless with the quaffle, scoring goal after goal. In the end, Harry caught the snitch, in a rather uneventful dive. The final score was 490 to 50.

Before they all had a chance to clear off the field, the rain started to pour. Most of the students and staff hurried off to the castle. The Hufflepuff crowd was slowest of all, walking back with their heads bowed.

Beginning to feel a little bit of cheer, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way back to the castle. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He suddenly remembered. Tonight was their first dance and he was taking Ginny.

xxxxx

For a while, Harry worried about his lack of preparedness for the dance. He hadn't bothered to get dress robes in his eleven-year-old size, nor did he get flowers for his date. Even worse, he realized he had thought that he'd be back to his normal size. What would it be like to have Ginny towering over him? Would she even want to go with a little kid?

Therefore, when Ginny descended from her dorm wearing her regular weekend clothes, Harry sighed in relief.

"Does it look like McGonagall is going to force us to attend the dance?" Ginny asked.

"She hasn't come in to say anything," Harry replied.

"We should skip out before she has the chance," she said.

"Yeah," Harry said, as he got up to follow her out of the common room.

"Where are you guys going?" Neville asked as they stepped out of the portal.

Harry shrugged, while Ginny answered, "We don't want to go to the dance, so we figured we'd wander around the grounds for a while."

"You might not want to do that," Neville suggested. "Remember how the Professors were patrolling the grounds?"

"Er, right," Ginny replied with a blush.

"Well Luna and I were going to go down to the greenhouses. You two should join us."

"Sure," Ginny shrugged and then looked towards Harry.

"Yeah, that sounds okay."

After retrieving Luna, the four made their way down through the castle.

"Where do you suppose Hermione and Ron are?" Neville asked.

"They didn't say," Harry replied. "I think they were going to the dance together. Ron didn't want to go, but Hermione said something about Seamus not wanting us all to stop living our lives. Ron muttered something back, but I left before I could hear anything more."

"I could hear them still arguing in your dorm, Harry, when I came down," Ginny said. "So, Luna, how come you guys aren't going to the dance?"

The two girls hung back a few paces and continued their conversation. Harry eyed the girls and then shook his head.

"You did great in the game," Neville said.

"Thanks."

"Maybe Gryffindor will win the Quidditch cup this year."

"I bet Ron would like that," Harry replied.

"And you wouldn't?"

"I'd just like to be able to play a whole season."

"Yeah," Neville said awkwardly, "I suppose that would be something… You just need to keep from injuring yourself."

"Or being banned."

"And stay out of tournaments," Neville laughed. "At least you didn't de-age yourself to a baby. I mean, imagine trying Quidditch like that."

Harry blushed and couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked and then he gasped, "you did de-age yourself to a baby didn't you?"

"SShhh," Harry hissed, looking nervously behind him towards the girls. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"You did it at the beginning of August, didn't you," Neville continued in a quieter voice. "I got lost when I stepped out of the wrong floo. By the time my Gran found me, she was furious. She kept muttering about some baby with my name on it! I was so confused. And then when I saw you, de-aged to eleven… well I thought, you know."

"Yes, it was me," Harry admitted, "but don't tell anyone!"

"After you used my name on the Night Bus, I figured you might have used my name again."

Harry's blush deepened, "you knew about that?"

"Well Stan's my great uncle's cousin's grandson, so he's somewhat related. And he looked me up to tell me that the Harry Potter used my name. He was rather excited about it."

"You knew about it and didn't say anything?" Harry asked. "You aren't mad about it are you?"

"No," Neville replied, "but why do you use my name?"

"First thing that popped into my head…"

"That's really strange," Neville said. Harry's blush grew even deeper.

"What's strange?" Luna asked as she caught up with the boys.

"Er, nothing," Neville and Harry both said in unison.

The rest of the way was filled with Luna's conspiracy theories. Harry was never so glad to finally make it to the greenhouses. There, Neville took over the conversation and filled them in on the plants until they reached the Alesco Plant.

"Look," Neville pointed to the little seedlings; "they're all staying in their own pots. Only a few more days and their root systems will be developed enough for your potion, Harry."

"How'd you do it?" Harry asked.

"Well you remember potions, right?"

Harry nodded.

"When it planted on Snape's desk, I got an idea."

"Yes I remember that. In the middle of Snape's lecture, you got up, cut off a chunk of his desk, and darted out of the room."

"Er, right," Neville replied. He looked a little shaky, but he continued anyway. "I figured the seedlings felt more comfortable planting themselves through old wood. You see, they're used to being on their mum. So the old wood provides a bit of familiarity. They can use the wood's xylem and phloem systems in order to get their nutrients and over time, the wood decays, leaving them in rather fertile ground."

The three gave Neville blank, confused looks. So he simplified things, "the wood acts like a surrogate mother. I think that's how the Alesco Plant propagates in the wild. Professor Sprout said I should write up the case and submit it to Herbology Today."

"Wow, that's great Neville," Ginny said.

Neville smiled back at them, clearly proud of himself.

"Has Snape given you detention for leaving class?" Harry asked.

The boy visibly deflated, "it's on Wednesday."

xxxxx

They made their way back to the castle; it was nearing curfew, so their pace was fast. The moon was growing full and able to cast enough light so that they didn't need to use their wands. They were surprised when they made it to the main staircase without seeing another soul. Surely someone was still out and about. There were five minutes remaining till curfew.

Shrugging, they started to ascend the stairs, only to stop dead in their tracks. They all nearly doubled over from shock when they found themselves on the receiving end of four wands.

It was a rare thing, in Hogwarts history, to be caught by all four heads of house. But the students didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of them. All had a disheveled appearance, as though they had been literally running all over the school. At first each face held the look of concern—some masked better than others—that turned distinctly to relief. Soon enough, though, the relief was transfigured into strict scowls. There was no mistaking it—they were in trouble.

"Where have you been?" Snape asked in his usual icy tone.

Neville shivered.

Harry wished the professors would put their wands away. Now that he cared what Snape thought of him, it was surprisingly hard to muster a defiant look. Although, he did manage to appear halfway confident. "It's still two minutes until curfew," he stated calmly. He knew that was a stretch, two minutes was hardly enough time to trek all the way up to the tower… but the professors should let them try…

"That is not what I asked," Snape replied sharply.

Fighting with the urge to look at his shoes, Harry struggled to come up with a retort.

Ginny rescued him from the trouble by saying, "we were at the greenhouses."

At this, Neville made a funny squeaking noise as Professor Sprout's face turned red.

"You were where?" the small woman shouted. It was strange to see this side of the usually easygoing professor.

"We didn't hurt anything ma'am," Neville replied. "I… I just wanted to show Harry his plant. And and…"

It was an interesting sight to see a large boy—nearly the size of a full-grown man—quiver before the tiny professor. This same boy fought against death eaters?

"Come with me, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Sprout ordered.

With one last glance to his friends, Neville walked off with the angry herbology teacher.

"This way, Miss Lovegood," Professor Flitwick commanded. She followed him towards the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, follow me," Professor McGonagall dictated.

They moved to obey, but Snape stopped Harry's progress.

"Potter is coming with me," he stated.

"But she's my head of house," he replied weakly.

To his great disappointment, McGonagall did not protest, but instead nodded her head.

"Come Potter," Snape snapped.

Left with no other alternative, Harry did as he was told. They walked down to Snape's quarters at a fast pace. Harry had to sprint in order to keep up. To make matters worse, the boy could tell Snape was very angry. Perhaps I could duck into a classroom and hide, he thought.

In no time at all, they were in the man's quarters and Harry found himself sitting at the couch. Snape loomed over him.

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" Snape shouted.

Harry opened his mouth.

Snape raised his hand, silencing the boy. "I mean other than the three dunderheads that went with you."

"No, it—"

"I thought not. Do you have any idea how much danger you could have been in?"

"It was just—"

"It is not safe for you to go wandering around, without a care in the world. Times are changed now."

"I understand that—"

"No Potter! I don't think that you do! Otherwise you would—"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, standing to his feet. "We were in the greenhouses! Surely you're not angry over something stupid like that!"

"Sit down," Snape commanded in a cold tone. "Don't raise your voice to me."

Instinctively, Harry complied, but in the process, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Snape pursed his lips. After some effort, the man's demeanor seemed to calm.

"Weasley and Granger were found in an abandoned classroom, each under a full body bind."

Harry's heart started to beat faster. "Are they… we-were they hurt?" he asked.

"They're fine," Snape replied. "And they didn't see their attacker. They said it happened near the library."

"But why?" Harry asked. "Was it just a prank? I mean I know a few cowardly students that would attack them behind their backs. Malfoy for one. You should ask him if he knows anything."

"I am looking into it," Snape said calmly.

"It was just a prank right?"

"I don't think so."

Harry gasped. "What?! So then what was it? Was someone trying to kill them? Or capture them? Do you have any idea?"

"I have some suspicions, but I don't want you to get all panicked over it. Now the point is, you need to be more careful."

"Wait, no, I want to know what your suspicions are."

"I have already told you too much."

"But—"

"Now about your actions today. Weasley and Granger were found two hours ago, and yet, in that time, we were unable to find you. No one knew where you were. That is unacceptable."

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course Potter, we were securing all of the students. You perhaps more than others, because you are a target. When we could not find you…" Snape paused.

"You were worried about me?" Harry smiled.

Snape stared at him, his scowl growing more intense. "No more wandering the grounds after dark. In fact, you are to stay in populated sections of the castle at all times. If you go anywhere else, you must get permission first, from a professor."

"Wait, come on," Harry whined, "I'm sixteen years old. I can handle myself." He stood back up and crossed his arms.

With hardly any force, Snape pushed Harry's shoulder causing the boy to fall back down to the couch. Growing annoyed, Harry attempted to get back to his feet, only to be pushed back down again. Not one to give up easily, he made a third and forth attempt. Stupid little body! Finally, he settled on sitting with the strongest scowl he could muster. He kicked out his leg in frustration, narrowly missing Snape.

"Oh stop throwing a fit!" Snape snapped. "Now, if you even THINK of disobeying me, you will have detention with me during every moment of your free time. Do I make myself clear?"

"You can't be serious."

"Trust me Potter. This is a serious situation. Now we can pack you off to Grimmauld Place, if you're going to be immature and toy with your life. Is that what you'd like?"

"No!"

"Then will you do as you're told?"

"Er, fine," Harry relented.

"Pardon?"

"Yes, yes I will do as you want."

"You better!" Snape shouted, and then he sat down on the couch next to Harry, "Now tell me, have you been clearing your mind?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Honesty, did this man think of nothing else? "Yes."

"Have you had anymore visions?"

"No, not since Seamus' parents."

"You're certain you saw their death's in particular?"

"Well, I told you the man looked familiar," Harry grumbled. "I couldn't figure it out at first, but once I found out they were killed, I realized."

"Hhmm."

"Hhmm?! That's all you'll say?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"Well, for starters. You could tell me why you didn't warn me about Seamus' parents death."

"Warn you?"

"Yeah, I went back to the tower and had to find out from Hermione… and… and it felt like everyone knew."

"Knew what?"

Harry blushed, and looked down at his knees. "It was like they knew it was my fault or something."

"And pray, tell, how were their deaths your fault."

"I had a vision," Harry said quietly, "and I knew that the man looked familiar. I knew it! If only I had been smart enough. I should have noticed."

"What difference would it have made?"

"Well, maybe we could have done something? Gone and rescued them…"

"Like with Black?"

"No!" Harry shouted, his face turning red. How dare Snape bring that up!

"I wanted to make it clear that you're not to go off rescuing the people in your visions."

"That's not what I meant," Harry snapped.

"Enlighten me."

"Well, if I had recognized Seamus' parents, I could have told you. Maybe you could have done something."

"So I apparate over, kill a few Death Eaters and then the Dark Lord? After all these years and to think it was that simple."

"Okay, so you and Dumbledore and some Aurors…"

"By the time we would have organized a team, they'd already be dead. And, most likely, we'd show up just in time to have a battle, where at least half our members would die. What's more, the Dark Lord would recognize me, and find out I'm a spy."

"But—"

"Trust me Potter, we wouldn't have been able to save them."

"You could have tried."

Snape sighed in frustration. "Well, in any case, you can rest assured. Whether or not you recognized Mr. Finnigan, it wouldn't have made a difference. It's not your fault."

Harry kicked his feet again in annoyance. He was getting too tired and all he felt like doing was stomping his way to bed. Yet there was a burning dread, if Snape and Dumbledore can't kill Voldemort…

"How am I supposed to defeat him?" Harry asked desperately.

"I don't know."

"Oh, that helps."

"Listen Harry. No one expects you to defeat him now. You need a lot more training, even after Hogwarts. But you have a lot of potential to become a powerful wizard."

"And in the meantime lots of people get tortured and killed?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Harry wanted to yell and shout. I should be doing something more! He felt like he was sitting on the sidelines while the rest of the world suffered. Yet, the thought of joining the fight terrified him. He would have to kill.

"I wish I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived."

"You'd rather be the Boy-Who-Died?"

In a fit of annoyance, Harry stuck out his tongue and then instantly blushed.

"Did you just stick your tongue out?"

"No," he immediately lied, as his blush grew even deeper.

"You should go to bed," Snape said. "And occlude before you fall asleep."

"Er, all right," Harry mumbled.

xxxxx

Over the next few days, Hermione, Ron and Harry spent time trying to figure out who attacked them. Right off the bat, Harry relayed Snape's suspicion that the attack was somehow related to Voldemort. Still, none of them believed an outsider had done it. As far as they were concerned, Voldemort had enough Death Eater children to use from Slytherin.

Ron was convinced it was Malfoy, but Hermione thought it was a seventh year that she'd seen sneaking in alcohol. Harry didn't know who to suspect, to him, several students seemed a bit "shifty." On more than one occasion, Harry had noticed students eyeing him strangely or following him around. But he couldn't be sure if he was being paranoid or not.

In any case, the week had been going fairly well. Harry was getting much better at Occlumency. In his latest lesson with Snape, he managed to push the man out of his mind on his first try. As a result—to Harry's dismay—Snape increased the severity of his attacks. But even with the added difficulty, Harry didn't mind the lessons, because he felt excited to prove himself.

Yet, even though he greatly improved with Occlumency, that did not mean his visions stopped. Since the dance, he'd already had two more. He never recognized the people being tortured, but he tried to describe them to Snape as much as he could.

Eventually, Snape explained to him that Dark Lord was forcing him to witness the torture sessions on purpose. It was the evil wizard's plan to get Harry as scared as possible.

It was working. Harry found that, despite his Gryffindor bravery, he feared a confrontation with Voldemort more and more. How could he defeat Voldemort?

The nights he didn't have visions, Harry had nightmares. So that meant every night since the dance, he had made a midnight trek down to the dungeons. Ron walked with him each time, making Harry feel like such an idiot, whereas Ron seemed to enjoy his "older brother" persona.

The worst part of the trek, was the moment right after Ron knocked on Snape's door, just before the man appeared. Each night, Harry was afraid that Snape would be annoyed and send him away with a sneer.

That was never the case

And that's why, despite the visions and nightmares, Harry's week had been going fairly well. He remembered earlier in the year, when he'd been having nightmares—how he'd been so tired and he always felt sick. But now, since he had Snape, he felt much better.

It had been strange, though, the first night Harry came down after just a bad dream. He had been extremely embarrassed, but Snape didn't react harshly. Instead, the man listened to the details without interruption. Afterwards, Snape pointed out things that Harry was being an idiot about—such as feeling too much guilt—and then reassured the boy that he would not be alone to face the Dark Lord.

The next thing Snape did—the oddest of all—was to pull out a copy of Harry's sixth year potions text. He proceeded to read the current chapter while Harry lay back on the couch. At first, the boy found this extremely funny—of course this would put him to sleep. But after a while, Harry realized he was being effectively distracted. Yet before he could fall asleep, Snape would snap the book shut and then order him to occlude.

These nights, Harry would fall asleep on Snape's couch and then wake up back in the tower. Harry was grateful for this, because, besides Ron, none of the other boys knew about his constant nightmares. Or worst of all… his constant trips to see Snape.

It was on the fifth night, since the dance, that Harry had made it the longest before something plagued his sleep. So when he woke to a tapping noise, he felt fairly proud of himself. He thought it must be morning, or nearly so, and a dorm mate had woken and was somehow making that noise. In this mindset, Harry almost shouted at them to be quiet. That was, until he remembered Ron's latest owl.

Opening his eyes, Harry looked over to the stand—which was almost a permanent fixture to the room now—to spot the sleeping bird. It was another one of the school's Tawny owls and had been found to be sick earlier that morning. Sometime after dinner, the bird's fever broke and although it was nocturnal, it was catching up on a lot of much needed sleep.

Harry shuddered when he remembered that this little owl was hardly the only one that was sick. Hagrid probably had two, or more, and then there were four seventh year students who were caring for owls as well.

Unable to discern the reason for the tapping, Harry closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. Almost drifting off, he was woken by another tap. This time, his eyes shot open and he looked towards the window. He caught sight of a white blur and jumped out of bed.

Opening the window, Harry reached out to his bird. "Hedwig!" Harry whispered urgently, "what are you doing here?" It only took a couple of seconds for Harry to realize that his owl was sick. As soon as her feet made contact with his wrist, he could feel the heightened temperature.

Heart racing, Harry pulled the bird close to his body protectively. In an instant, he was at Ron side, shaking the boy to wake.

"Get up Ron!" Harry said anxiously, not bothering to hush his voice.

"Wasimatter?" Ron blurred. Regardless of the fact Ron was woken on several occasions as of late; it did not change the fact he was a deep sleeper.

"It's Hedwig!" Harry shouted, "she's sick."

Ron was more awake now, sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. There was a grumbling noise from Dean's bed and Neville mumbled something.

"Let me see her," Ron said.

Harry held up Hedwig near to Ron's face. "See," he said impatiently, before continuing his protective hold.

"Her eyes aren't droopy," Ron explained.

"Not yet," Harry whined, "but she has a fever."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked as he retrieved his wand from the bedside table.

"Yes!" Harry hissed; this was taking far too long in his opinion.

Ron waved his wand over the owl, chanting a few diagnostic spells. "Yeah," he confirmed, "it looks like the flu in an early stage. What were you doing up in the Owlery anyway?"

"Hedwig came to me," he replied impatiently. "Look, none of this matters, we need to take care of her."

"Well, we need to start her on the potion," Ron explained. "Hagrid's out right now, helping out in London. But I'm sure he has some extra potions on hand in a cupboard. Or I could go to Collins, Cunnings or Russell and see if they have extra. Although, Hagrid will be back in the morning, we could wait…"

Harry listened numbly as his friend continued to speak, although he didn’t really hear the words. All he could focus on was his bird tucked protectively in his arms. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered that owls didn't really care to be held like that, but he couldn't bring his arms to let go. Her body was much too warm, he thought. Remembering back to the daily prophet article, he realized with a start, half the owls die!

"Snape might have some and—"

"Yes," Harry blurted out. "We'll go to Snape."

Harry was half way out the door, before Ron noticed the boy was on the move. The redhead quickly grabbed his cloak and flung it over his shoulders, but he didn't have time to pull on his shoes. Harry didn't bother with either, moving as quickly as he could without jostling Hedwig.

Ron knocked on the door, while Harry worried about whether or not he could feel Hedwig shaking—he knew he was—but what if she was shaking too?

"Ah Mr. Potter," Snape said, as if expecting the boy.

"It-It's Hedwig," Harry announced, lifting the bird slightly so the man could see her. "She's sick." Even though Harry knew he was upset, the sudden feeling of dread startled him. His eyes grew strained, as he held back the tears. Please be okay, he begged, please, please, please…

"Come in," Snape directed and then guided the boy over to the couch.

"She needs some of the modified Pepperup," Ron explained, "every two hours."

"I am well aware Mr. Weasley," the man growled as he left for his storeroom.

"You- you have some right?" Harry asked quietly when Snape returned.

"Of course," Snape replied. "There's an epidemic. Now let me see Hedwig."

Harry, still with his arms wrapped around the bird, moved her a little bit closer to Snape.

"Harry, let her go," Ron instructed. "I know you're worried, but owls don't like to be held like that."

Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told and released his hold around his familiar. Hedwig balanced on his thigh and took a moment to shake out her feathers. Her usually perfectly preened feathers were completely disheveled. Harry's heart stopped for a moment, worried whether or not he had made Hedwig even more uncomfortable by his handling.

Meanwhile, Hedwig took two looks around the room and then stepped closer to Harry's body, leaning slightly into his chest.

"Harry," Snape spoke up, "Hedwig needs to drink all of this." He held up a fairly large dropper filled with a murky brown substance.

Knowing Pepperup, Harry had a feeling that it would not taste very good.

"Here, let me help," Ron said, as he grabbed the dropper. He reached out to the snowy owl, a bit more casually than he did with the school owls—Hedwig was a very nice bird—and was bit on the left thumb.

Harry could tell that his friend was holding back a rather strong curse while he waved his hand around. After a minute or so, Ron refocused on the task at hand, although he seemed to be frustrated.

"Let me do it," Harry demanded.

Ron looked annoyed, but didn't protest.

Holding up the dropper, Harry moved it towards Hedwig's beak. She turned her head away. "Come on girl," he coaxed as he tried again. "It will make you feel better." She can really turn her head; Harry mused as she continued to avoid him.

Ron sighed.

"Hedwig," Harry said more firmly. "You need to drink this potion." Reluctantly, she stopped turning her head. Taking the opportunity, Harry moved the dropper to her beak and squeezed the liquid in. "There, there," he comforted as he scratched her neck. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Hedwig shuddered.

As he continued to scratch her neck, Hedwig's big eyes started to close and she leaned into him.

"Now you need to do that every two hours," Ron reminded him.

"Don't you have another owl you are responsible for, Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied, "but it's much better now."

"Thank you for bringing Harry down," he continued.

Harry was surprised by Snape's uncharacteristic politeness. Even though it was obvious Snape wanted Ron to leave, it was shocking the man was being nice about it.

"No problem," Ron replied.

"Now you may leave," Snape added. Perhaps he's being nice because Ron's my friend, Harry mused. When it was obvious Ron wasn't going to move, Snape snapped, "now get out." Er, or not.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but the glare from Snape instantly stopped him. The boy turned to Harry and then to Hedwig. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said cordially, yet his voice wavered a bit.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the Snowy Owl.

After Ron left, Snape spoke again. "I can get her a stand."

Hedwig's grip tightened on Harry's pajama covered thigh.

"No, I think she'd prefer to say with me," Harry replied.

"You need to get some sleep."

"I'd like to stay up with her," Harry said adamantly.

"She can stay with you, while you sleep," Snape answered. "Now I'll wake you when it's two hours."

Harry said, "Okay," without meaning it. He had no intention whatsoever of falling asleep—anything could happen. So completely oblivious to Snape's glare, Harry continued to pet Hedwig's silky white feathers.

With a sigh, Snape left the room. A moment later, the man returned and Harry found himself being pushed back into the corner of the couch.

"Hey," Harry shouted, but relaxed into the soft pillow.

Next, a heavy blanket was flung over his body. Harry had to react quickly in order to get Hedwig out of the way. The blanket was magically tucked around him, allowing only one free arm, which was currently bearing a disgruntled Hedwig. With a sigh, Harry rested his arm across his chest. Perhaps lying back a little wouldn't be so bad. Hedwig adjusted her feet a little, looked around the room, and then settled down to sleep.

"I can't believed you just tucked me in," Harry finally said. He couldn't decide if he was angry about it or not.

Snape snorted.

In the end, Harry realized he wasn't angry. To think—Snape, of all people—just tucked me in. Harry couldn't help but smile a little. Is this what it's like to have a dad?

"Go to sleep or not," Snape snapped, "I don't care." The man stalked out of the room, leaving Harry to giggle quietly to himself. A little while later, Harry heard Snape quietly return and sit at the table. From the occasional sound of a scratching quill, Harry figured Snape was grading essays.

Harry decided that it was okay to rest his eyes. He would stay awake, of course. With only his eyes closed…

In what only seemed like a blink of an eye, Harry was being nudged awake. At first, he was completely disoriented, until he remembered Hedwig.

"It's time for her second dose," Snape repeated, as Harry put on his glasses. When did I take off my glasses?

When he was ready, Harry took the loaded dropper from Snape and held it up to Hedwig. "I know it tastes awful," he coaxed, "but you need to drink it to get better."

Hedwig glared, to let her displeasure be known, but drank the potion without much fuss.

"Good girl," Harry murmured as he lay back down.

In no time at all—two hours seemed like nothing to Harry—he was woken again for a third time. He repeated the procedure and then fell right back to sleep.

The next time he woke, he did so on his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Snape sitting on the low table in front of him.

"Is it time for another dose?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Then what—" More awake now, Harry realized the problem. Hedwig's breathing was off; it was like she was struggling to catch a breath. With a start, Harry sat up quickly. "Hedwig," Harry gasped as he stroked her feathers. She leaned closer to him, her body swaying with fatigue. Harry leaned back, pressing his face right up next to hers. He listened intensely to each pant, willing for her breathing to even out.

"Harry," Snape called.

The boy didn't look up. Instead, he continued his internal mantra, breathe Hedwig, breathe.

"You must understand," Snape continued. "She might not make it."

"No," Harry cried, the tears flowing freely now. "You'll be okay, Hedwig. You'll see. You'll be just fine." He continued to scratch her neck, in her favorite spot. Calming himself as much as possible, he listened to her every breath. He couldn't stop the tears though, so they fell silently. Harry closed his eyes, pouring his magic and strength into her, willing her to survive.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder.

They stayed there like that, for who knows how long—it felt like an eternity—until the panting stopped. Harry held his breath, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes…was this it?

A small dry tongue licked up a tear. Instantly, Harry opened his eyes. "Hedwig!" She licked up another tear before shaking out her feathers and leaning into his hand. Obediently, Harry continued his scratching.

Snape's hand left Harry shoulder, grabbing his wand. He said a few diagnostic charms. "It's time she had another dose," he stated.

Quickly, Harry picked up the dropper, and without any fuss, Hedwig drank it. In less than a minute, the bird was fast asleep, leaning heavily into Harry's chest. This flu was taking a lot out of her, but at least her breathing was back to normal.

Needless to say, Harry didn't go back to sleep that night. After the fourth dose of the modified Pepperup, Snape had announced a marked drop in Hedwig's temperature.

"She's getting better?" Harry asked.

"I do believe she is," Snape replied.

Harry couldn't hold back the smile, or the subsequent hug around Snape's side. He was just too happy. Hedwig was going to be okay.

xxxxx

All day Friday, even though he had class, Hedwig slept on Harry's shoulder. The only time she'd wake was to fly off and poop. Harry was also a little worse for wear, falling asleep during Snape's lecture in potions. That did not go over well with the overtired Potions Master either, landing Harry a large deduction in house points and a night of detention.

Not that it meant much; Harry realized that night in their Occlumency lesson. Snape informed him that Saturday, during his "detention," they would be finishing up a special potion together. The Alesco seedlings were finally mature enough to be used in his aging potion. Saturday night, he could take the potion, rest up Sunday, and be back to classes on Monday in his sixteen-year-old body. Harry couldn’t wait.

Friday night, Harry was really tired. And even though he was excited, he had no trouble falling asleep.

It wasn't until well after midnight that he woke from a terrifying dream. The weirdest thing was that he couldn't remember any of the details from it. The only thing he did know, was the fact that it involved Snape. Something bad was going to happen to the man. Pulling off the covers, it took Harry a split second to decide to go check on Snape.

He got up and ran over to Ron's bed. Harry was accustomed to waking the boy so that he could walk him down to Snape's. The Potions Master never came out and actually said it, but Harry was sure the man didn't want him to be wandering the castle alone. For the first time, Harry found Ron's bed empty.

Looking around the dorm, Harry confirmed the fact the others were all in bed. He contemplated waking Neville instead, but quickly brushed off that idea. He was sixteen years old! He could walk the halls by himself. After retrieving his glasses and wand, Harry made his way down to the dungeons.

On Snape's floor, Harry continued down the long corridor with only the small circle of light from his wand. Halfway there, Harry got an uneasy feeling. Like someone was following him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Pausing in his footsteps, Harry held his breath, listening intently for any sort of sound. All he could hear was the occasional snore from the portraits penetrating the dead silence. I'm such an idiot, he thought, scared of my own shadow. Trying to toughen up, Harry started to walk again. But he couldn't shake off the feeling of being followed.

So he took each step deliberately, trying to make an odd pattern in case someone was trying to copy his footfalls. Again, he stopped, more abruptly this time. He thought he heard something… Sure of it, Harry whipped around, sending a curse down the hallway. There was nothing there.

Laughing nervously, Harry turned back to continue. He hated the fact he was so paranoid, teetering on the edge of being just like Mad-Eye Moody. Constant vigilance… Harry was glad he was alone in the corridor, he hated the thought of someone seeing him act like a scared little kid.

That's exactly what I am, Harry thought, nothing but a scared little kid. Sure, he was fine with a wand, but without… he was completely defenseless. Even at sixteen, he was physically weak, but now he was practically waiting for the attack.

Just then, Harry was brought out of his thoughts as he was shoved against the wall. His head smacked into the stone with such a strong force, he couldn't hold onto his wand. He heard it clank to the floor as the light went out.

Instinctively, Harry dropped to all fours in a hurry to find his wand. With magic, he had power. With his wand, he could defend himself. Feeling around in the darkness, all Harry could feel was the uneven stone floor. Behind him, Harry could hear his attackers lumbering after him. Whoever they were, they were large—likely Dudley-sized. And for whatever reason, Harry got the distinct impression that this was not the usual school prank.

Before he could find his wand, the first attacker reached him. Two hands grabbed at his shoulders, trying to get a hold of his arms. Quickly, Harry rolled over and kicked out wildly. A sharp gasp signaled that he made contact.

Instantly, Harry sprang to his feet and in a panic, he ran in the direction of Snape's office. He didn't get very far though, before his other attacker caught him. He fought like mad again, flailing his arms. The hall was pitch black though, and he couldn't see, but he was sure they could.

Ineffectively, Harry fought against his captors. His arms were pinned around his body now, but he let his knees give way, hoping to knock his attacker off balance. He ignored the screaming pain in his shoulders as they bore the weight of his body. Kicking out, his leg was caught too, and soon both legs were held tightly. It was obvious that he was going to lose, so he opened his mouth to scream out. But before he could, a fist made contact with his right eye, and blackness consumed him.

The next thing he was aware of, was the wetness. He was lying down on something wet—and dirty… it smelled like decaying leaves. So completely disoriented, Harry couldn't figure out why he was lying down in the dirt. Nor could he remember the gravity of the situation. So he sat there, contemplating the oddity of the moment, as he overheard voices.

"You were told not to hurt him," a voice shouted.

"I-I'm s-sorry father," a familiar voice replied, "I tried, bu-but—"

"Where's his wand," another voice demanded. My wand, Harry remembered. It fell, in the corridor… he tried to move, rolling onto his back. Looking up, Harry could just make out the stars beyond the tree canopy. They were beautiful, even though it was cold. Why was he out in the cold?

"The Dark Lord gave us specific instructions," the first voice shouted. Despite the man's anger, there was also a hint of fear.

"Boys," the second voice commanded, "go back and find his wand. Or it will be you two who report your failure to our Lord!"

"Yes, sir," they both replied in unison. Before they marched off back towards Hogwarts, Harry caught sight of them. Crabbe and Goyle, of all the Death Eaters in training, why did I have to be caught by them?

Suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation, Harry looked around himself. What am I going to do? Crabbe and Goyle senior were watching their boys leave.Rolling to his hands and knees, Harry had a single thought—he had to get away. He tried to creep as quietly as possible. If he could at least make it back to Hogwarts grounds, inside the anti-apparation wards… maybe I could call for Hagrid. Or at least hold them off until help comes. But Harry knew, like always, he was alone in this. He had to figure out how to get away on his own. In the distance, he spotted a thick patch of sticker bushes. Maybe, he though, I can hide out in there. Being little might be an advantage…

The forbidden forest did not have the ground for stealth, only two paces away, Harry landed on a twig. The snap was likely to be the loudest sound in his life. Not one to dawdle on disappointment, Harry sprang up to sprint away. Before he could, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Snape!" Harry yelled. For a moment, he thought about how stupid he was. Of all the things to yell…

In the next moment, they apparated away.