By the time Harry reached Dumbledore’s moving staircase, having somehow remembered the password from a few days before, he was panting and drenched in sweat. He entered the headmaster’s office and was relieved to find Dumbledore seated behind his desk.

The old man looked up as Harry entered and rose, frowning in concern. “Harry, what’s happened?”

“Professor Snape and I were ambushed by a group of Death Eaters on our way back to school,” Harry replied as he tried to catch his breath. “We’re both all right,” he added quickly. “We managed to take them all down and Professor Snape sent me to come and get you.”

“Where?” Dumbledore asked seriously.

“In the woods outside Ottery St. Catchpole,” Harry said.

“Very well, I shall go at once.” Dumbledore came around his desk with a purposeful stride and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “In the meantime, Harry, I must ask that you tell no one what has transpired this evening.”

“Why, sir?” Harry asked curiously. Both Dumbledore and Snape had now urged him to secrecy.

“I cannot explain that at the moment,” Dumbledore answered, ushering Harry towards the door. “For now, I would ask that you trust me. All will become clear soon, I promise you.”

“All right,” Harry agreed.

“Good. You’d best get down to dinner then.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry left the headmaster’s office feeling much calmer now that he was confident Dumbledore would have the situation in hand. He decided to stop by Gryffindor Tower to shed his traveling cloak and wash up before going down to dinner. The common room was empty as was his room and he changed quickly.

Despite the run in with the Death Eaters, Harry felt better than he had in days. The funeral for Mrs. Weasley had helped to bury the nightmarish memory of her death. It was heartening to see the Burrow so full of the family and friends who had loved her. There had been tears, but there had also been laughter and joy, which had healed him in a way he couldn’t explain.

Harry suddenly wondered what his funeral would be like, if he were to die. He had no family to gather round. His friends would be there, of course, Dumbledore, the Weasleys, Hermione and Remus, along with many of his classmates. But mostly there would probably be lots of strangers come to pay their respects to the famous Harry Potter. Harry found that somehow depressing.

Don’t be stupid! Harry chided himself. You wouldn’t be around to care anyway, so what difference does it make? He shook his head at his own foolishness then went down to dinner.

---

Snape stood over the unconscious Death Eater. Jameson was his name, a recent recruit to the Dark Lord’s forces and one of the hapless fools who had been taken off-guard on the road. Snape didn’t know Jameson well, but he did recognize the man. More importantly, the man would recognize him. He pointed his wand.

“Ennervate!”

Jameson stirred and blinked at his surroundings in confusion. Snape bent down, grabbed the man roughly by his collar and shook him.

“Where’s Potter?” Snape demanded angrily.

“What… Snape?” the man asked dazedly.

“The boy, where is he? Believe me, you do not wish to discover how very displeased our Lord will be if you let Potter get away!”

Jameson’s eyes widened in fear and he looked around wildly as if hoping to find Potter hiding behind a tree. “I don’t know where he is!” he said desperately. “We heard the sounds of a fight and came running, but someone cursed me.”

“Some idiot cursed me, too! Now, where is everyone else? You weren’t out here alone! How many of you were there?”

“There were six. Two of us were following you, the other four were supposed to be waiting off the road. But I don’t know where they are now!” Jameson pleaded. “Wait a minute!” he added as sudden hope appeared in his eyes. “If the others aren’t here they must have already taken Potter and returned to our Lord!”

The man’s relief was palpable. Snape released his hold on him and stood up.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Snape conceded.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Jameson said.

“Yes, it is,” Snape agreed as he casually raised the wand he was holding. “Avada Kedavra!”

Jameson slumped back to the ground and Snape noted dispassionately that the vacant eyes hadn’t even had time to register surprise, but still held a look of hope. Snape laid Jameson’s wand next to its owner’s body. He’d already used it to kill the other five Death Eaters and had no more need of it. He turned away and walked up the road to await Dumbledore’s arrival. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Severus?” Dumbledore’s quiet voice sounded close behind Snape. It was the first indication of the headmaster’s presence.

“Is everything under control?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Snape said. “The Death Eaters have all been accounted for.”

Dumbledore sighed wearily. “I will take care of all the details, of course. Is there anything else I can do?”

“You mean other than not asking me to take Potter on any more outings?” Snape snapped then instantly regretted it. “Forgive me, Headmaster,” he said formally. “It’s been a rather taxing afternoon.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Dumbledore said. “I would rather you focused your anger where appropriate than take it out on the students or staff. Now, go back to school and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Snape nodded and Disapparated.

---

“Harry, you’re back!” Neville exclaimed as Harry joined his housemates for dinner. “How are Ron and Ginny?”

Harry settled down to eat and told Neville and the rest of the Gryffindors all about the funeral and the reception afterward, paying special attention to Fred and George’s unique memorial. He omitted any mention of Death Eaters, of course, as well as his argument with Snape which he’d forgotten entirely. He felt happy, as though a burden had been lifted from him.

When dinner was over, he returned to the common room and spent a relaxing evening playing Exploding Snap with his fellow Gryffindors and catching up on his homework. The sight of Ron’s bed no longer filled him with unbearable grief and remorse. Instead, he felt an upwelling of compassion and gratitude for all the good friends he had. Mrs. Weasley’s funeral had made him more thankful than ever for all the people who cared for him and he felt truly at peace as he drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately, his contentment didn’t last long.

The next morning at breakfast Seamus opened his newly delivered copy of the Daily Prophet and gave a low whistle. “Wow! Harry, listen to this!” He cleared his throat and read from the paper.

“Yesterday evening, six Death Eaters attempted to ambush Ministry Aurors on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. No one can say for sure why the Death Eaters were there, but this is the same village that saw another Death Eater attack, Monday last, that resulted in the death of long time resident, Molly Weasley.

None of the Aurors were injured in this most recent attack, but all six Death Eaters were killed. Ministry officials are investigating.”

“What!” Harry reached across the table and snatched the paper from Seamus. He scanned the article himself.

“Merlin!” said Neville. “Do you think they were after you, Harry?”

“It could have been Mr. Weasley they were looking for,” said Dean worriedly.

“I’m glad those Aurors managed to take them down!” Seamus said. “Filthy, stinking Death Eaters!”

“It’s a good thing you and Professor Snape didn’t run into them though, Harry,” Neville said. “Six against two would have been rough odds.”

Harry looked up from the paper to the head table and saw Snape watching him with an enigmatic expression.

“Yeah,” Harry said his mouth dry. “Really rough.”

The conversation at the table turned to other matters, but Harry paid no attention. He picked at his breakfast and tried not to let his churning emotions show. No matter how many times he went over it in his head he kept coming to the same conclusion. Snape had killed them – murdered them as they lay unconscious. Harry shuddered at the thought, but there was no other possible explanation. He could clearly recall Snape saying that he would ‘handle things’ and felt sick to realize what that off-handed comment had meant.

Dumbledore was a mystery though, Harry thought as he looked up to where the headmaster was engaged in conversation with Professor Sprout, nodding with interest at whatever the Herbology professor was saying. He had to know the truth, and yet he didn’t seem the least bit upset that his Potions Master had committed murder. Did that mean Dumbledore condoned Snape’s actions? Had Snape somehow convinced him that killing the Death Eaters had been justified?

Harry fought the urge to look at Snape. He couldn’t bear to meet the man’s eyes again. Instead he shoved his uneaten breakfast aside and stood up. He needed time alone to think.

---

Snape hadn’t touched his breakfast either. The previous day had been a near disaster, but fortunately Dumbledore had done a masterful job of covering up the pitched battle with the Death Eaters. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been contacted and had arranged for the right Aurors to give the right information to the Daily Prophet. The details had all been taken care of and anyone who cared to dig deeper would find an entirely plausible story that exonerated him of any suspicion. No one would ever guess he’d been involved; no one but Potter.

At most, that should have been a minor annoyance. After all, he’d killed six men quickly and efficiently, with little thought and no emotion. He hadn’t enjoyed it, it had simply been necessary. Snape knew that and the opinion of one sixteen year old boy didn’t change anything.

Except that Snape was having a surprisingly hard time forgetting the expression on Potter’s face as he’d looked up from reading the paper. Not that Snape cared what the boy thought of him, of course, far from it. But the horror in those piercing green eyes still filled his mind. Snape caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced up to see Potter leaving the Hall.

---

Harry was planning to head for his third floor retreat, but he never reached the stairs.

“Mr. Potter!” Snape called.

Harry froze in the middle of the entrance hall, then slowly turned to face the last person he wanted to see.

“In my office, now,” Snape ordered.

Harry seriously considered refusing, but the look in Snape’s eyes quickly put an end to that thought and reluctantly, he followed his teacher to the dungeons.

“Sit down,” Snape said as he took his own seat behind his desk. Harry took a deep breath and sank into his usual chair.

“From the look on your face at breakfast, it’s obvious that you’ve surmised what transpired in your absence yesterday evening,” Snape continued.

There was no point in being delicate, Harry knew. “You killed them.”

“Yes,” Snape said easily. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Potter!” he snapped at the expression on Harry’s face. “You’re not a child and you’re certainly not naïve! We’re at war!”

“That doesn’t justify murder!” Harry said.

“It was necessary.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Harry jumped to his feet and leaned across the desk to confront Snape. “They were already unconscious! You could have turned them over to the Ministry!”

“Yes, Potter,” Snape said wearily. “I could have turned them over to the Ministry and they would have been sent to Azkaban. Then what? Azkaban is hardly the impregnable fortress it once was. It took all of a month for Lucius Malfoy to escape. Do you really think it would have taken much longer for the gentlemen we encountered last night to manage it?

“I can explain six dead bodies. I cannot explain why, on a deserted road with no witnesses and you outnumbered six to one, I would choose to defend you rather than stand aside and allow my associates to take their prize.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“You mean… They expected you to let them take me?”

“Of course!” Snape was on his feet now, too, glaring at Harry. “I am on their side; at least as far as the Dark Lord is concerned. Believe me, I have no desire to disabuse him of that notion.”

Harry stared at Snape speechless and Snape shook his head in disgust.

“What did you think?” Snape demanded with a sneer. “That I’d done it for sport? That I enjoyed it?” Even Snape’s biting sarcasm couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

“No, of course not,” Harry insisted.

“Do you simply take it for granted that I have no conscience then?” Snape persisted. “Given that you always assume the worst of me I suppose that’s hardly surprising!”

Harry bristled at Snape’s accusations, knowing that there was at least some truth to them.

“Well, how did you think I’d react?” Harry demanded. “You leave me to read about it in the paper and then expect me not to be shocked? Why didn’t you tell me any of this last night?”

“There was a great deal to do last night. As you may imagine, it took a fair amount of work to arrange for that particular story to appear in the morning paper. There was no time to brief you which is why I am doing so now.”

Harry held Snape’s gaze a moment longer then sank back into his chair. Snape sat down as well. They didn’t look at each other and neither spoke. Finally, Harry broke the silence.

“You knew we were going to be followed, didn’t you?” he asked. “That’s why you were so anxious to leave the Burrow.”

Snape sighed. “I suspected that some of the Dark Lord’s servants would be watching for you, yes.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me that?”

“What would have been the point? It wouldn’t have helped the situation and you had enough on your mind already.”

“I might have paid more attention when you said it was time to go.”

Snape shook his head dismissively. “Actually, it was probably to our advantage that we encountered them in the dark.”

“Why?”

“It made certain things easier.”

From the way Snape said it, Harry was sure that he didn’t want to know what ‘certain things’ were, but there was another worry that had begun to nag at his mind.

“Professor, you did kill all of them, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Potter,” Snape said in exasperation. “There would hardly have been any point in killing only a few of them.”

Harry looked Snape in the eyes. “What if one of them had got away?”

Snape held Harry’s gaze. “In that case, I would be in considerable difficulty,” he said evenly.

‘In considerable difficulty’ was one way to put it, Harry thought. Of course, ‘dead’ was another. For the first time, Harry had a vivid understanding of the dangerous game Snape was playing and the hard choices he was forced to make. Harry swallowed.

“How do you know you got them all? How do you know there weren’t others besides the ones we fought? There could have been. It was dark and –”

“Potter,” Snape interrupted Harry. “I have not survived this long by being careless. There are ways to discover information – don’t ask me how – just believe me when I tell you that all of the Death Eaters were accounted for.”

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced, but he nodded.

“Now, I trust you understand the need for absolute secrecy regarding these events?” Snape said.

“Of course, sir,” Harry replied readily.

“That means you must tell no one, not even your closest friends.”

Harry hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he could keep this from Ron and Hermione.

“I have also not survived this long by relying on the discretion of others,” Snape said. “You can trust your friends with your own life, not mine.”

Snape had a point, Harry knew. “All right, sir,” he agreed. “You have my word. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good. Now then, regarding your lessons, I have spoken to the headmaster and he has agreed to take over your tutoring. You will resume your studies with him tomorrow evening.”

“What?” Harry asked in surprise. “Why?”

Snape scowled at Harry as though the answer ought to be obvious. “Under the circumstances, I assumed you’d want another teacher.”

Snape spoke dismissively and without resentment, but it was clear that he took it for granted that Harry would want nothing more to do with him after what had happened in the woods. Harry pressed his lips together, feeling a surge of indignation.

“Well, you assumed wrong,” Harry said. “You said yourself that I’m not a child and I’m not naïve. Whatever you did yesterday can’t be any worse than the visions I’ve had. Besides, it’d be a little hypocritical of me if I couldn’t handle you killing six Death Eaters.”

Snape frowned at Harry quizzically. “Why?”

“I’ve got to either kill him or die,” Harry said calmly, “and I need to at least hope that I’m not going to die. So believe me, Professor, I’ve done my share of contemplating murder, even when I’m not dreaming of it.”

Harry held Snape’s gaze and saw something like pain flicker in the depths of the black eyes.

“Very well,” Snape said. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow evening, Mr. Potter, if you’re up to it.”

“I’ll be here, sir,” Harry said.

---

Harry spent the rest of the morning in the common room doing homework. Just before lunch, the portrait hole opened and Ron, Ginny and Hermione appeared. Ron and Ginny were instantly surrounded by their fellow housemates and given a heartfelt welcome. When the greetings and expressions of sympathy had died down, Harry finally got a chance to greet his friends.

“You’re back early,” he said.

“Well, you know Hermione,” Ron said. “She can only be away from her school books for so long.”

“That’s not true!” Hermione retorted. “Besides, I brought all the ones I needed with me.”

“Truthfully, we were ready to come back,” Ron said. “Charlie and Aunt Rose left this morning and everyone else is busy with one thing and another, so there’s not much left to do at home.”

“I think Dad was anxious for us to come back too, after what happened last night,” Ginny said seriously. “You read about the Death Eaters in the paper, didn’t you, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I heard about that.”

“Dad figures it might be best if we didn’t stay at the Burrow for a while,” Ginny said. “He, Fred and George are going to go stay with Remus for the time being.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Harry said. “There’s no point in taking any chances.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “But it just makes me angry to be driven out of our own home.”

“Come on,” Hermione said. “Let’s go have lunch and it’ll make you feel better.”

The four Gryffindors headed down to the Great Hall with the rest of their housemates, but Hermione touched Harry’s sleeve and held him back as they descended the stairs.

“Harry,” she asked quietly. “You didn’t see anything or anyone unusual yesterday, did you?”

“Er, no,” Harry answered. “Why do you ask?”

“It just seems strange that Death Eaters would try to come after Mr. Weasley again so soon. It’s not as though he’s that important to the war effort and they must have known there’d be all sorts of extra security around the Burrow yesterday. I just can’t help wondering if the Weasleys might have not been their target after all.”

“You mean you think they might have been after me?” Harry asked trying to keep his voice neutral.

“It’s possible,” Hermione said. “It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out you’d be there and Voldemort would do anything to get his hands on you.”

Harry nodded. “All the same, though, I think it’s probably just as well that Mr. Weasley, Fred and George go to stay with Remus.”

Hermione nodded. “Actually, I think it’s the best thing for them, especially Mr. Weasley. Getting away will do him good, I’m sure.”

Harry and Hermione caught up with Ron and Ginny as they descended the last set of stairs.

“I’m telling you, they don’t stand a chance against us,” Ron was telling Ginny.

“Don’t get overconfident, Ron,” Ginny scolded. “Hufflepuff are no pushovers. I’ve seen them practicing. Besides, Katie would have a fit if she heard you talking like that.”

“Katie’s mental. It’s got to be in the job description for Quidditch Captain.”

“We still need to keep to our practice schedule,” Ginny said.

“Oh, no!” Hermione said.

“My sentiments exactly,” Ron agreed.

“No,” Hermione said, pointing across the entrance hall. “Look.”

Snape was halfway across the entrance hall on his way to lunch and striding purposefully towards him from the opposite side of the hall was Comyn Ryan.

“Professor Snape!” Ryan called.

Snape stopped and turned towards the man. One glance at his expression told Harry that Snape was in no mood for Ryan, but the Defense teacher didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

“I haven’t had the chance to welcome you back,” Ryan said brightly. “How was Mrs. Weasley’s funeral?”

“Lovely,” Snape said dryly. “If you like funerals.”

“It’s lucky you didn’t run into those Death Eaters, though.” Ryan said.

Snape stiffened almost imperceptibly “Yes, it was,” he said evenly. He barely spoke above a whisper but such was the silence in the entrance hall that everyone heard him. The students had all stopped to listen to this exchange, having long since given up the pretense of ignoring their teachers’ constant verbal sparring, and were hanging on every word.

“You know,” Ryan continued. “I wondered why it was that you were so anxious for Mr. Potter to attend the funeral, yet so set against taking him yourself. But with Death Eaters lurking about, I can see how you wouldn’t want to be responsible if anything unfortunate happened.”

Snape’s eyes flashed with anger. “You go too far,” he said.

“Do I?” Ryan said with a smile. “Tell me, did those Death Eaters know they’d be meeting up with a group of Aurors instead of Potter on that road, or didn’t you get the chance to warn them?”

Snape had his wand out and leveled at Ryan instantly. But the Defense teacher was just as fast. His wand seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The two men faced off as the students all scrambled out of the line of fire.

Snape was trembling with rage, but Ryan was still perfectly composed. He smiled and there was no mistaking the triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” Ryan taunted. “Try it.”

Snape glanced at the students then back at Ryan. With obvious effort he wrestled his emotions back under control.

“One day, I promise you will pay,” he said then he lowered his wand and stalked off towards the dungeons.

Ryan pocketed his own wand and headed into the Great Hall.

“This rivalry between Professor Snape and Professor Ryan is getting out of hand!” Hermione said as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. “Ryan’s insinuations are becoming entirely too blatant.”

“Well, you have to admit Snape acts awfully suspicious most of the time,” Ron said.

“He’s not a Death Eater, Ron and you know it!” Hermione said in a low voice.

“Maybe I know it,” Ron answered in a whisper, “but Ryan doesn’t. It’s supposed to be a secret, isn’t it?”

“Ryan must have hit pretty close to home to make Snape that angry,” Seamus said as he sat down and cast a worried glance at Harry.

“Dumbledore really needs to do something,” Lavender said, glancing Harry’s way too.

Hermione shook her head unconcernedly as she reached for the salad. “I’m certain Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s made a mistake,” Dean said darkly, “and Snape wouldn’t be the first Death Eater we’ve had at Hogwarts.”

“That’s true enough,” Seamus agreed. “Look at Quirrell and that dodgy business with Moody. Dumbledore didn’t have either of them spotted.”

“You don’t really think Snape’s a Death Eater, do you?” Neville asked worriedly.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious,” Dean said. “Look how he coddles Malfoy and his gang and everyone knows what they are.”

Up and down the table, people nodded in agreement.

“He was best mates with Malfoy’s dad too,” Seamus added, “and if you ask me, they should have gone to Azkaban together.”

This statement was rewarded by a general murmur of agreement, then Lavender jumped in.

“I was talking with the Hufflepuffs,” she said. “Ernie’s mum knew Snape from school and doesn’t trust him at all. She thinks Dumbledore ought to sack him. So do a lot of the other parents.”

Hermione stared at her in disbelief. “Isn’t that overreacting just a bit? I mean, there’s no evidence.”

“There’s one way to prove it,” Seamus said. “Someone ought to stun him and have a look at his left arm. I’d bet ten galleons he’s got the Dark Mark.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s something Ryan would do! I wonder if we ought to suggest it to him.”

“He’d have to get through me first,” Harry said.

Everyone turned to stare at Harry in stunned silence.

“I don’t trust Ryan,” Harry told them bluntly. “In case you’ve all forgotten both Moody and Quirrell taught Defense, and no one suspected them until it was too late. If Snape hasn’t tried to kill me in six years, I’m not going to start worrying about him, now. Ryan’s the one I’m keeping my eye on.”

Harry stood up. “I’m going out for some extra Quidditch practice,” he announced to no one in particular.

“I’ll come with you,” Ginny said, getting up as well.

Harry hesitated, then nodded and Ginny accompanied him out of the castle in silence. They were halfway to the Quidditch Pitch when Ginny finally spoke.

“Don’t worry about Professor Snape, Harry. He can take care of himself.”

Harry looked at Ginny in surprise.

“I may not be able to read minds,” Ginny said, “but I can tell when you’re worried about something.”

“I’m not worried,” Harry said. “It’s just not right what Ryan’s doing, that’s all. He’s got everyone convinced that Snape’s a Death Eater!”

“But Ron’s right. Isn’t that for the best?” Ginny asked. “I mean, at least it’ll keep anyone from suspecting that he’s really working for Dumbledore.”

“I suppose,” Harry conceded. “But I know what it’s like to be distrusted by everyone. Believe me, it’s no fun!”

They had arrived at the Quidditch pitch and Ginny pulled out her wand.

“Accio broom!” she said.

Harry drew his own wand and repeated the spell. A moment later two brooms came hurtling at them from the castle. Ginny caught hers and mounted it.

“Come on, Harry,” she said with a quick smile. “I know how to take your mind off Snape and Ryan.” She kicked off from the ground and went zooming into the air.

Harry straddled his broom and took off after her.

---

Over the next few weeks, life slowly returned to normal for Harry and his friends. Mrs. Weasley’s funeral had healed some of the pain of her death; and more. Harry wasn’t sure why, but he felt more at peace now than he had since before Sirius died.

Harry had resumed his lessons with Snape and they had quickly fallen back into their former, comfortable routine. They didn’t speak of any of the events that had taken place the week of Mrs. Weasley’s death. Snape, for his part, seemed determined to pretend that they had never happened at all and Harry was happy to follow his teacher’s lead. He had no more desire than Snape to explore the disturbingly dark understanding they had shared. So long as he could avoid acknowledging that, he’d be able to ignore the horrors lurking in Snape’s mind as well as his own. Fortunately, he had other, far more pleasant things that required his attention.

“Only one week ‘til our rematch against Hufflepuff,” Katie said brightly as Harry and Ron sat down in the Great Hall for breakfast.

“We know how to count, Katie,” Ron said irritably as he reached for the sausage. “Yesterday, it was eight days and tomorrow it’ll be six days, so could you just leave off announcing it every morning?”

Katie scowled at him and continued down the table.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he told Harry, “I like Katie, I really do, but I’m glad it’s her last year.”

“That depends on who makes Captain next year,” Harry said.

“Oh, come on, Harry. Neither of us would be as bad as Katie.”

“Who says one of us will get it? Ginny might make Captain.”

Ron choked on his eggs. “She’d never make Captain before us!” he said and Harry grinned at the worried look on his friend’s face.

“Speaking of Ginny, who’s that she’s talking to?” Harry asked.

Hermione, who was sitting next to Ron, reading her Ancient Runes text, glanced up. “Jeremy Banks and Walter Sutton.”

“Who?” Ron asked as he and Harry both craned to see the two boys Ginny was talking to at the other end of the Hall.

“They’re part of her team in Ryan’s class,” Hermione answered.

Harry didn’t know the boys, but he did recognize them. He remembered seeing them at Fred and George’s shop when he’d visited during summer; they’d seemed very keen on the twins’ wares. Ginny and the boys nodded agreement about something and Ginny headed towards the Gryffindor table while the boys made their way to the Slytherin one.

“They’re Slytherins?” Ron asked, horrified.

“Fifth years are doing mixed teams right now,” Hermione confirmed.

“Good morning,” Ginny said as she sat down across from Ron and Harry.

“What were you doing talking to those Slytherins?” Ron demanded.

“We were talking about strategy for Defense,” Ginny said.

“Can’t you talk about that in class?”

Ginny frowned at her brother. “I suppose, but Jeremy and Walter had an idea they wanted to run by me.”

“It couldn’t have waited?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Ron, what is wrong with you?” Ginny asked in exasperation.

“They’re Slytherins. You shouldn’t be hanging around with them.”

“So much for inter-house harmony,” Hermione muttered.

“I’m not hanging around with them,” Ginny said, “and even if I were, what business is it of yours?”

“I don’t trust them.”

“You don’t even know them!”

“Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters, Ron,” Hermione added in annoyance.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Ron replied. “We’re at war, don’t forget.”

“I’ve also got my OWLs coming up, too, don’t forget,” Ginny reminded him. “And I’d like to pass them.”

Seamus interrupted the bickering. “Well, that’s another Auror gone missing.” He sighed as he laid aside the Daily Prophet.

“It’s a wonder there are any left,” Dean said. “You sure you want to be an Auror, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, more so than ever,” Harry said as he finished the last of his breakfast. “Someone’s got to stand up to Voldemort.”

Most of the nearby students winced.

“Harry!” Seamus said. “Do you have to say his name?”

“Yes,” Harry said as he stood up. “I’m not afraid of a name.”

The pain that shot through Harry’s scar was the worst he’d ever felt. He clutched his head, reeling. The pain was so intense he couldn’t see and couldn’t hear his friends calling his name. He tried to fight, but the fury coming from Voldemort was too overwhelming.

---

Harry awoke in the hospital wing to find Dumbledore, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey standing over him.

“Harry,” Dumbledore asked. “How are you feeling?”

“All right, sir,” Harry said, sitting up in bed. “What happened?”

“You fainted at breakfast,” McGonagall told him.

“Can you tell us why, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“It was my scar,” Harry said, putting a hand gingerly to his forehead. “Voldemort was angrier than I’ve ever felt him.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

Harry thought back. As he’d lost consciousness, his mind had opened and he’d felt Voldemort’s fury and hatred as his own, but he could remember nothing else.

“No, sir,” he told Dumbledore. “Nothing at all.”

At that moment Snape arrived with a goblet of some steaming concoction. Harry looked up at the Potions Master and a bolt of agony shot through his scar. Harry gasped and fought to block his mind. Slowly the pain receded until it was gone. He looked warily at Snape again, half expecting his scar to explode once more, but there was no pain this time. Snape was watching him with obvious consternation and Dumbledore looked uncommonly serious as he glanced between his Potions Master and student. Snape stepped forward and held out the cup.

“Drink this,” he told Harry. “It should help.”

Harry took the cup, drained it and immediately felt the lingering ache in his scar vanish.

“Thanks, Professor,” he said, then looked at Dumbledore. “Can I go now?” he asked, uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny of the adults around him.

His professors exchanged glances then Dumbledore spoke.

“You may go if you promise to let me know should you experience any further pain in your scar, no matter how slight.”

“I promise,” Harry agreed as he stood up. He left the hospital wing quickly, very aware of the worried gazes that followed him out, and found Ron and Hermione waiting for him in the hall.

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said truthfully. “It was just my scar.”

“It hasn’t affected you that badly in ages,” Ron said.

Harry frowned. “Voldemort’s really upset about something.”

“Well, hopefully that’s a good thing,” Ron said encouragingly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry agreed, but somehow he felt it wasn’t.

---

By the time Harry arrived for his lesson with Snape that evening, he had long since forgotten about his scar. He was now making steady progress in his study of Legilimency and was finally gaining the control Snape had so often told him he needed. He no longer felt overwhelmed by the memories and emotions he encountered, and was learning to recognize the clues and associations that would allow him to search Snape’s memories effectively. Best of all, he was at long last starting to have some control over his visions. At least he was able to wake himself up at will, which was something. For the first time, Harry had real hope that he might be able to master Legilimency and put an end to his visions altogether.

For the time being though, Harry was enjoying his lessons far more than he would have dared admit. Snape’s mind was so familiar, that he found it almost comforting to sense his professor’s presence in his own mind. And now that he was no longer floundering, the mental sparring with Snape was actually fun.

“All right, Potter,” Snape said. “Tell me what I did this afternoon after lunch.”

Harry nodded once and concentrated, fixing his teacher with a penetrating stare. While there were far more interesting challenges in Snape’s mind, Harry took pride in having made tremendous progress at deciphering Snape’s tedious daily routines. Harry saw the memory of lunch clearly and was able to follow it to the memories of Snape’s movements afterward. He frowned slightly.

“You spent the afternoon in your office marking homework,” he said.

“Correct,” Snape said smoothly as though Harry had just answered a basic Potions question.

“But it’s not,” Harry said, frowning more deeply. “That’s not true.”

Snape stared at Harry in astonishment. “What?”

“Those memories weren’t true,” Harry said as understanding began to dawn. “They’re from another time, but you somehow made me think they happened this afternoon.”

“You couldn’t possibly have been able to tell that!” Snape insisted angrily.

Harry smirked. “Obviously, I could,” he said. He was miffed that Snape would deceive him and more than happy to see his usually self-assured professor bewildered.

Snape glared at Harry a moment longer before conceding the point.

“How did you know?”

Harry grinned. “I cheated.”

“Cheated?” Snape asked. “What do you mean?”

“This afternoon after lunch, Hermione came down to see you about her Potions essay. You weren’t here, but she ran into Millicent Bulstrode who told her you were in a meeting with your prefects.”

Snape stared at Harry incredulously for a moment then shook his head in disgust.

“Well, let that be your object lesson of the day, Potter. No matter how skilled one may be at Occlumency, facts and sure knowledge will still win the day.”

“So, how many of the memories I’ve seen weren’t true?” Harry asked. He tried to make the question sound nonchalant, although he was still chafing at the deception.

“They’re all true, Potter, I’ve just altered the associations to change the context of some of them,” Snape said. He made it sound simple, but Harry knew it wasn’t. Still, he wondered how often Snape had done this.

“I haven’t deceived you in anything important,” Snape said, answering Harry’s unspoken question as he so often seemed to do lately.

Harry nodded, satisfied. He didn’t for a moment believe that Snape would lie to him, outright. He considered what Snape had told him and the memories he’d seen. The connection between them had been perfect. If he hadn’t known better, he never would have guessed they didn’t lead directly from one to another.

“So, is there any way to know when someone’s memories have been manipulated?” Harry asked.

Snape didn’t answer. He was frowning in concentration.

“Professor?”

Snape glanced up at Harry. “That’s a discussion for another day, Mr. Potter,” he said brusquely. “We’re finished for this evening. Please return to your dormitory.”

“But we’ve barely started,” Harry protested in surprise. “What’s…?” He broke off as he noticed that Snape was rubbing his left forearm as though it pained him. Harry swallowed hard feeling a sharp stab of fear.

“Sir, are you… Is everything all right?”

Snape followed Harry’s gaze and scowled. “Everything is fine. Now do as you’re told and return to your dormitory.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, but he still remained rooted in place. He knew perfectly well what Snape was going to do and had the insane urge to beg him not to go.

Snape’s severe expression softened. “It’s all right, Potter,” he said more gently. “This is hardly the first time, you know. Now go.”

Harry nodded, not at all reassured, but he did manage to back towards the door. With one last glance at his professor, Harry slipped out into the hall and headed back towards Gryffindor Tower. As he walked he tried to shake the apprehension he felt. Facing Voldemort wasn’t something he’d want to do, but Snape had obviously done it many times before. He was supposed to be one of Voldemort’s loyal Death Eaters, so it only made sense that he’d be summoned from time to time. Harry knew this; Dumbledore had told him so. Thoughts of the headmaster helped calm Harry’s nerves a little. Between them, Snape and Dumbledore surely knew what they were doing. But even Harry’s trust in Dumbledore couldn’t banish his worry entirely.

Harry slowed to a halt as he realized just how frightened he really was. He nearly turned back, but Snape was probably already gone and even if he weren’t, he’d never listen to Harry’s vague misgivings. Harry considered going to Dumbledore, but even the headmaster couldn’t act without any information. Harry had to find out what Voldemort was up to.

Harry broke into a run for Gryffindor Tower. When he arrived, he headed straight for his dormitory, shrugged off his robes and climbed into bed. It was still fairly early and he wasn’t the least bit sleepy, but he knew how to solve that problem. Harry reached into his bedside drawer and found the Dreamless Sleep potion Snape had given him months before. He took one experimental swallow and immediately felt himself relax and his eyelids droop. He replaced the cork in the bottle and lay down. He closed his eyes and was almost instantly asleep.

---

There were two dozen Death Eaters arrayed in a circle in the clearing. Torches illuminated the surrounding woods. Harry stood in the center of the circle and at his feet lay a man who was clearly dead.

“As none of you have forgotten,” Harry told his assembled followers, “three weeks ago six of our number were killed at Ottery St. Catchpole. This is one of the Aurors who was reported to have been involved by our informant. As you can see, he has paid well for his part in that affront.”

A murmur of approval rippled through those present.

‘We have Elias Crawley to thank for leading us to this Auror,” Harry continued in a gracious tone. “It was his informant, I believe, who indicated this man was one of those involved.”

The indicated Death Eater swelled with pride. “Yes, my Lord, it was, and a very valuable and reliable contact he is.”

“So you’ve said,” Harry continued mildly. “You may imagine my surprise then, when I discovered that this man, in fact, had absolutely nothing to do with the deaths at Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Harry smiled at the look of confused panic that crossed Crawley’s face.

“What? But… My Lord, I… That’s not possible! I was told –”

“You were misinformed,” Harry hissed.

Crawley stared at Harry helplessly. “Forgive me, My Lord,” he pleaded desperately. “My contact was certain that he was one of the ones responsible.”

Harry sneered at the cringing man. “There is no need to ask forgiveness, this time,” Harry said testily. “This man was one of the ones who was supposed to be responsible. He confessed to the murders; bragged about them, in fact; told me exactly how he and his fellows had taken my servants unawares. But I could see into his mind and knew his words to be lies. He was never in Ottery St. Catchpole and his confession was a ruse.”

“My Lord, forgive me,” Lucius Malfoy said, bowing deeply, “but why would he confess to murders he never committed?”

“To protect the true culprit, Lucius. This whole deception has Dumbledore’s scent to it.” Harry’s nostrils flared in anger and he began to prowl around the circle. “He was always too clever by half and if the Aurors were not responsible for my servants’ deaths, then Dumbledore has to have been. He and his presumptuously named Order of the Phoenix have an annoying habit of showing up at the most inconvenient moments.”

All around the clearing, people nodded. Dumbledore and his followers were the only serious threat to Voldemort and the Death Eaters could well imagine the Order having thwarted their latest attempt to secure Potter.

“There is one curiosity in all this, however,” Harry added casually as he made his way around the circle, scrutinizing each of his Death Eaters. “I have to ask myself, whose identity Dumbledore would need to go to such lengths to guard? Surely, none of the ragtag band of misfits who follow him would require such protection. Perhaps it is the same person who has been tutoring Harry Potter to close his mind against me?” Harry stopped in front of Snape and spoke in a deceptively pleasant voice. “Do you think so, Severus?”

There was a frozen silence in the clearing. Harry and Snape held each other’s gaze without blinking while the rest of the Death Eaters stared at them in shock, hardly daring to breathe.

“You are very, very good, Severus,” Harry whispered bitterly. “Even now, I cannot sense the lie in your mind. But make no mistake, I will not be deceived any longer. I know you have betrayed me.”

Snape held Harry’s eyes a moment longer, then exhaled slowly. “How?” he asked with quiet acceptance.

Harry felt a flash of anger at Snape’s composure, but held it in check and smiled with grim satisfaction.

“Hogwarts is not as impenetrable as you and that fool, Dumbledore, believe,” Harry scoffed. “Not for those who can negotiate its smallest crevices.” He glanced to his left at a figure who stood fidgeting nearby.

“Pettigrew,” Snape spat, then laughed bitterly. “How appropriate.” He glared at the little man who shifted nervously, but stood his ground.

“I’ve been spying on all of you for months,” Pettigrew said. “There’s a hole right behind the Gryffindor fireplace that’s ideal. You’d be astonished what the students will say in their common room when they think they can’t be heard.”

“Well, Severus?” Harry purred.

“Well, what?”

Harry’s anger flared up and he lashed out. “Crucio!”

Snape gasped and fell to his knees. He screamed in pain until finally Harry released him. He didn’t bother to rise, but looked up at Harry with pure loathing.

“I meant, what do you want me to say?” Snape snarled through gritted teeth. “Shall I waste both our time denying it?” he sneered in contempt. “You wouldn’t believe me, and surely you know I won’t beg.”

Harry’s smile was thin and cruel as he looked down at Snape. He reached out one bony hand and ran a finger along Snape’s jaw. He felt the man flinch at his touch and his smile widened into something predatory.

“Oh, you’ll beg, Severus,” he murmured. “You’ll beg for mercy and for death. You’ll be ready to give your soul for even a moment’s respite from the agony. But there will be no relief and no end. You will forget there was ever a time when you did not suffer and still the pain will go on. And you will regret betraying me.”

Snape was horribly pale and Harry could see fear and resignation in his eyes, but, his voice was steady.

“Betraying you,” Snape said, “is the one thing in my life I will never regret.”

“We shall see,” the cold voice hissed. Harry pointed his wand at Snape again.

“Crucio!”

---

Harry raced down the hall, shouted the password at the gargoyle at the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, then slipped through the door and bolted up the stairs. He found Fawkes sleeping on his perch, but there was no sign of Dumbledore.

“Professor!” Harry called urgently. “Professor Dumbledore!”

Dumbledore appeared at the top of the stairway that led to the sitting area above his office.

“Harry, what is it?” the headmaster asked, coming quickly downstairs.

“It’s Professor Snape!” Harry answered. “Voldemort knows.”

Dumbledore seemed to age before Harry’s eyes. He leaned against his desk for support and bowed his head.

“Is he dead?” the old man asked quietly.

“No, but he will be if we don’t do something!” Harry said. “We need to contact the Order and the Aurors at the Ministry…”

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence Harry.

“Neither the Order, nor the Ministry can do anything to help Professor Snape, Harry.”

“Of course they can! There are a couple of dozen Death Eaters there, but if you go too and take them by surprise –”

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted in a pained voice. “Do you know where Professor Snape is?”

Harry blinked. “No, where?”

“I have no idea. No one does. We cannot help him, because we cannot find him.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore, not wanting to believe what the man had said. “But there has to be some way,” Harry insisted.

“You saw where they were, Harry. Was there anything whatsoever that might indicate their location?”

Harry swallowed. “No. They were in a clearing in some woods.”

“And there are literally hundreds of such clearings in Britain.”

Harry turned away from Dumbledore. This couldn’t be happening, he thought furiously. He wanted to scream or to hit something. It was bad enough that he couldn’t keep these visions out of his head. Why did he have to be completely helpless to do anything about them?

“It’s not fair!” he choked.

“No. It’s not,” Dumbledore agreed. “And I know it doesn’t help that it isn’t your fault. But there is nothing we can do. Voldemort never reveals the location of his meetings.”

Harry whirled to face Dumbledore again. A desperate thought had just occurred to him. “Voldemort knows where they are!”

“Naturally. He summons the Death Eaters to him.”

“Then I can find out!”

Dumbledore regarded him speculatively. “Harry, I’m not sure that your skills…”

“I’ve searched Professor Snape’s mind, I ought to be able to search Voldemort’s as well.”

“Harry, this is a very different situation from your lessons,” Dumbledore warned.

“I know that, but I have to try!” Harry pleaded. “I know what Voldemort’s doing to him! I can’t just sit by and do nothing!”

Dumbledore regarded the distraught young man in front of him and nodded in understanding. “Harry,” he said carefully. “You do realize that if you enter Voldemort’s thoughts again, the situation is bound to be much worse than when you left.”

Harry nodded.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Let us go rouse Madam Pomfrey for one of her sleeping draughts.”

It didn’t take long to reach the hospital wing and explain to Poppy Pomfrey what they needed, but it seemed interminable to Harry. He was acutely aware of every second that passed and paced the ward while waiting for Madam Pomfrey to bring the sleeping draught.

“Here it is,” she said returning with a cup. “This is a quarter of a dose so you shouldn’t have any trouble waking up.”

Harry nodded, jumping up on the nearest bed and reaching for the potion.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, placing a hand on his arm. “If this doesn’t work…”

“I know, it’s not my fault,” Harry finished impatiently. “Just let me do this.” He downed the potion in one gulp and lay back on the bed. Sleep overtook him at once.

---

The scream that rang through the clearing sounded as if it had been made by some wounded animal, but clearly it had come from the man lying at his feet. Snape made an inarticulate groan and vomited blood. For one terrible moment, Harry was so overwhelmed by the scene before him that he was afraid he might wake up.

I have a job to do, he told himself, trying to focus all his concentration on calming his mind. Ironically, the cold laugh that seemed to come from him in the next moment helped.

That’s it! Focus on Voldemort, not Snape.

“I must admit, Severus, you’ve done well. Most men under Cruciatus would have been pleading for death by now.”

Snape was too deep in shock to respond, even assuming he had understood Voldemort’s words.

“Perhaps,” Harry continued, “we need to add some variety. Oblido!” Harry heard the sound of something being crushed. It took him a moment to realize that it was bone. Snape’s right leg had been pulverized from the knee down. He gave a strangled cry and fainted.

“No, no, Severus,” Harry said. “It won’t be that easy. Ennervate!”

An agonized sob told him that Snape was conscious again.

Enough! Harry scolded himself. Focus! Where are we? He narrowed his awareness to include only the body he was inhabiting. He concentrated on Voldemort’s breathing, his movements, his feelings and thoughts. Please, Harry thought. Please, let this work.

Miraculously, something did seem to be happening. The clearing, the Death Eaters, even Snape faded and Harry felt Voldemort’s mind opening up to him. He was aware of a jumble of memories and thoughts, each seemingly darker than the ones before. Bitterness, hate and vengefulness were constants everywhere Harry turned and he nearly recoiled. Voldemort was truly evil, even uglier inside than he was outside.

Harry forced himself to concentrate. Where are we? All at once, Harry saw it, the clearing where they were, but it was empty. Clearly this was a memory from earlier that night.

Harry turned and walked through the trees until he came to a road that turned sharply away from him and meandered down a steep hill to a town in the narrow valley below. At the bend in the road was a worn sign that read, “East Bending, 2 miles.”

---

“That’s it!” Harry bolted up in bed, ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s startled scream. Dumbledore was at his side and fixed Harry with a piercing gaze.

“You’ve found them?”

“Yes! They’re two miles outside of East Bending, up on a ridge overlooking the town, where the road turns.”

Dumbledore searched Harry’s eyes a moment longer as if trying to memorize them. Then he smiled. It wasn’t his usual benevolent smile, though. This one was determined, and dangerous. He clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Well done, Harry!” he said. “I promise you we’ll find them.” He turned and swept out of the hospital wing without another word.

Harry sagged back against his pillows and let out a long sigh. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, from searching Voldemort’s mind. He felt himself drifting back to sleep and jerked awake. He didn’t want to experience that vision again.

Then don’t! he told himself. He’d mastered it once. He could do it again. He knew he could. Harry relaxed and was soon asleep, undisturbed by visions.