When Harry woke up from his potion-induced doze, he looked blearily around Lupin's office and found himself alone. He was lying on a hastily transfigured couch that was still partly a chair, his clothing rumpled and his hair damp with sweat.

He sat up with effort; the movement sent a spike of pain through his temples and there was an ache in his bones that was made worse when he put his feet on the cold stone floor.

He looked around for his boots, found them under the couch, and pulled them on while fighting the nausea that washed over him as he leaned down.

Snape and his damn experimental potions were going to kill him one of these days. He bet Snape would be happy about it, too.

They didn't have to keep pouring potions down his throat. Hermione was right; no one cared about anything but keeping them quiet. How much time had been wasted? All he had wanted was to let someone know about the prophecy, and quickly, but now he didn't even know how long he had been asleep!

It might be too late.

He pushed himself to his feet, his face breaking out in a cold sweat as he tried to steady himself. He wiped it with the back of his hand.

Something caught his eye as his hand passed in front of his face.

Immediately, his hand flew up again to feel for a familiar scar on his forehead, in case that, too, was back. Feeling nothing but smooth, damp skin, he looked around for something to use as a mirror.

There was a small mirror lying on Lupin's desk. It looked suspiciously like it might be the brother of the two-way mirror Sirius had given Harry, and he almost couldn't bring himself to pick it up.

He peered at his face from every angle, but he was definitely still Hadrian in every way but the scar that should not have been visible on his hand.

Madam Pomfrey, when Harry had been lying in the hospital wing recovering from his injuries, had offered to remove it. For reasons Harry didn't quite understand himself, he had refused.

And now it was visible when it should not have been.

Harry looked at the door. Lupin couldn't have left him in his office for all this time, could he have? Harry couldn't just sit around waiting for him to come back. He needed to find him and tell him about the prophecy, and he needed to do it immediately. Too much time had been wasted already.

He spotted a pair of dragonhide gloves on a table in a corner.

A few minutes later, he was walking as fast as he dared toward the staircase, wearing the gloves and carrying a large potted plant that obscured his vision and made him think he might end up lying in a heap at the foot of the stairs with his neck broken. Still, at least no one would accuse him of acting impulsively this time. He needed to find Lupin, but this time he wasn't going to throw caution to the wind and risk being exposed and ruining all their plans.

His effort was largely useless, since he met no one on his way.

He balanced the plant on his knee to bang on Snape's office door.

Snape pulled the door open and stared at Harry and the oversized plant. "Come in."

Lupin was already inside, and he stood up, staring at Harry as well. "What in the world are you doing up? Why didn't you use the mirror?"

Harry deposited the plant on Snape's floor with a thud and rubbed his aching arms with relief. "How was I supposed to know to do that?"

"I left a note."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather stupid. "I didn't see one, sorry."

Lupin shook his head exasperatedly. "Why are you carrying my plant?"

"Because of this," Harry said, pulling off one glove and brandishing his hand so that both Lupin and Snape could see. "I woke up and there it was."

It was Snape who caught Harry's hand in his, forcing Harry over to the light. Harry gritted his teeth and didn't try to pull away from Snape's cold grasp.

"Hmm," Snape said after a few tense moments when all three of them stared at 'I must not tell lies' on the back of Harry's hand. "Well, I'm afraid you shall have to tell a few more lies to cover for this, Potter."

If that had been meant as a joke, Harry did not find it amusing.

"It's easily fixed, fortunately," Snape went on. "The scar must be removed. There was just enough magic in it, having been caused by a magical object, that your own fluctuating magic has started to incorporate it into itself."

Harry frowned.

"We expected something like this, Harry," Lupin said, giving him a small, placating smile. "We were just discussing it now, as it happens, though it is your eye color that we were afraid might return rather than this scar."

"Oh," Harry said. "But... Hermione has already checked my hand twice, looking for this scar. How am I supposed to explain it if it's suddenly gone?"

"All the better, really," Snape said. "Tell them the people watching over you thought to use Polyjuice to disguise you, but the potion didn't disguise the scar because it had been caused by repeated use of a Blood Quill over a significant period of time."

Harry caught Lupin looking at him with a rather pitying expression.

"I will have to fetch some things from the infirmary," Snape finished, "but I don't believe we will need to involve anyone else."

"Fine," Harry said. Now that he knew the scar wasn't a pressing matter, he had something far more important to deal with. "Professor Lupin, I have to tell you about the prophecy. It can't wait!"

Lupin and Snape exchanged a look over Harry's head.

"All right," Lupin said. "Why don't we have a seat?"

Harry dropped into a chair impatiently, not waiting for Lupin or Snape to get settled. "Trelawney isn't a fraud. The night Wormtail got away, she fell into a trance and predicted that Voldemort's servant would rejoin him and help him return. It happened just like she said."

Lupin rubbed his temple. "And you told Dumbledore?"

"Yes!" Harry said quickly. "And he said that brought her total of real predictions up to two --"

Harry, suddenly recalling what Snape had said back in Lupin's office, looked at Snape.

Snape was looking at him, appraising him with his penetrating gaze. He took his time before speaking. "Tell me exactly what you heard. No omissions, no exaggerations, just her precise words as near as you can recall them."

Harry swallowed. "Well, you see, I didn't hear all of it. There was too much noise. But," he hastened to add, "what I did hear sounded really bad!"

Snape continued to stare at him, not breaking eye contact. "Shall I attempt to yank it straight out of your skull, Potter?"

Harry felt himself reddening. "No. She said, 'He shall return as the twelfth month dies, then I couldn't hear much else, but she said, 'his most loyal servant will rejoin'... and then, 'the blackest and most ancient power' and some sort of 'sacrifice'."

Harry had refused to break eye-contact with Snape, even with the threat of Legilimency, and he had seen the way Snape's face twitched and turned a shade paler.

"Well? That means something, doesn't it?" Harry demanded. "I can see you think so!"

"Severus?" Lupin questioned, resting his hand on Snape's arm. "Does it mean anything to you?"

Snape's lips thinned. "Perhaps. The words are similar to the original prophecy, and worryingly so."

"Can you tell us what you know about that prophecy?" Lupin pressed, his eyes darting to Harry.

"It began thus, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'," Snape said, looking like he regretted every word he uttered. "Two children matched that criteria, and as you know, the Potters went into hiding when it became known that the Dark Lord had chosen their son as his target."

There was a long silence.

"And now he's going to return as the twelfth month dies," Harry said, his voice cracking. "With the help of a loyal servant, like Wormtail, and some ancient power we don't even know about."

"No," Snape said abruptly. He sat up straighter, then leaned over the desk, staring at Harry again. "No, Potter. The Dark Lord will not return. That is one thing we need not fear."

"How do you know?" Harry demanded. Horribly, he felt like crying. "How can you possibly know that?"

Snape yanked open a drawer and took out a large, carved wooden box with a heavy lock in the shape of a phoenix. He set it on his desk and laid one hand on the lid.

"Dumbledore left a number of things to me. Having extracted a vow from me many years ago, he felt confident I would continue his work if it necessary. Inside this box are memories, artifacts, books, and Dumbledore's notes. When I first opened it, Dumbledore's own voice informed me about the importance of the contents."

Harry stared at the box.

Snape lifted the lid slowly, and a pale glow erupted from within. Harry could see dozens of tiny bottles, all labeled, with swirling silver liquid inside. He knew they were memories, which could be viewed in a Pensieve.

He saw something else.

"The diary!"

"Yes," Snape said, pulling the box quickly out of reach as Harry stretched his hand toward it. "It is this diary that set Dumbledore on the track of other objects the Dark Lord had used to ensure his immortality." Snape turned toward Lupin, appraising him. "Lupin, do you know what a horcrux is?"

Lupin hesitated. His eyes darted in Harry's direction again. "I... I have heard the term before."

"What's a... a horcrux?" Harry asked, frowning at the two of them. He hated when they talked like he wasn't there.

"It's a magical object so powerful and so dark," Snape said, his voice low and intense, "that even the mere word for it is a banned subject in this part of the world. A magic so evil and vile that every text containing even a mention of it has been purged." Snape reached into the box and brought out a horrible, ancient-looking book. A human hand, shriveled and desiccated, was stitched into the leather spine, bony fingers curling across the cover. He flipped it open to reveal a notation inside. "This book came from the Black family library."

"May I see that?" Lupin asked, reaching for it.

Snape surrendered the book, and if Harry were not mistaken, a shiver ran over him when it was out of his hand.

Lupin turned the pages slowly, a deep frown on his face. "This is terrible."

Harry tried to lean over and look, but Lupin kept the book turned away from him.

"Do I get to know what those things are, or not?"

"They're parts of a soul," Lupin said. He, like Snape, looked rather sick. "Parts of a soul that are cleaved off from the whole by an act of deliberate murder. To purposely destroy your own soul..." Lupin snapped the book shut and shook his head. "I doubt there are many things worse than that."

"All right..." Harry said, not sure he understood at all. "What good are they to Voldemort?"

Snape reached into the box again. He held up the diary. "This contained a piece of his soul, and so long as his soul was bound to this object, the Dark Lord could not die. True, he could lose his body and be reduced to a spirit with very little power, but as we saw, he could find ways to regain a body." Snape held up a silver tiara, bent almost shapeless. "This was another piece." He held up a long chain, at the end of which dangled a misshapen bit of gold that could once have been some sort of pendant. "This locket --" Snape reached into the box again, this time bringing out an ornate cup that was partially melted on one side. "This cup."

"How many in all?" Lupin asked. He tossed the skeleton book back into the box and rubbed his arms as if he, too, were suddenly feeling a chill.

"Six," Snape said slowly. "Counting the snake that was killed in the Ministry building."

Harry swallowed. "Do you think... I mean, couldn't that be the ancient power? Couldn't he have made more than six?"

Snape shook his head.

"How can you be sure?" Lupin asked, leaning forward. "If he made this many, why not more?"

Snape hesitated, and he looked right at Harry before forcing his eyes away as if he couldn't bear to look at him anymore. "Each time the soul is fractured, there is less left to fracture again. That's simple mathematics, Lupin. In his attempt to create a sixth, the Dark Lord's body was destroyed and the last remnant of his soul was set loose in spirit form." He paused for a long moment. "It was your murder, Potter," he said, while still avoiding looking at Harry, "that he intended to use to create his sixth horcrux. Dumbledore believed that he created most of the horcruxes out of highly significant deaths, as well as using vessels that were themselves significant objects. The locket, for example, is believed to have belonged to Salazar Slytherin, and later belonged to a woman by the name of Merope Gaunt." Snape huffed irritably when Harry and Lupin looked blank. "It's all in Dumbledore's notes. She was a young witch born into a family of Parselmouths, who believed they were Slytherin's direct descendants. By some foolish trickery, she came to be in the family way with a Muggle man by the name of Tom Riddle --"

"She was Voldemort's mother!" Harry exclaimed, though it had taken him a moment to figure out what 'in the family way' meant.

"Yes," Snape said, looking a bit annoyed to have been interrupted. He did not continue the story of Merope Gaunt. "In any case, the death of the child he perceived as a threat was a great temptation for him. Still, after his return, the Dark Lord did make one more horcrux, and it is true that he may have intended to make more. However, Dumbledore searched out the horcruxes and he destroyed them. Each was weaker than the one made before it, and Dumbledore was able to ensure that together with the piece the Dark Lord still possessed, they added up to one whole."

"And he destroyed all of them?" Lupin pressed. "How can we be sure?"

Snape hesitated. His eyes darted to Harry and then just as quickly away.

"Severus?"

"There was still one left, after the snake. The Dark Lord succeed in fracturing his soul when he attacked the boy, though he did not have the chance to contain it in an object. That fragment lodged itself in the nearest living thing it found."

Snape's eyes rested on Harry again.

Harry felt a horrible, creeping sensation. "You... you don't mean... me?"

Snape swallowed. "Yes. He made you into a living horcrux, though unintentionally. It was this that made Dumbledore unable to complete his task. To destroy the horcrux you would have to die, and he was not --" Snape swallowed again. "He was not yet prepared to take that step."

"Not yet?" Lupin repeated. His low voice was so full of rage that Harry instinctively braced himself. "Are you suggesting he would have ever considered it?"

"He did consider it," Snape said, his voice also dropping low. "And he left me these things so that I could finish the task should he fail." Snape swallowed again, looking away. "To either end the Dark Lord once Potter was dead and the horcrux destroyed, or..."

"Don't finish that thought," Lupin said in a strangled tone. "I can't..."

Harry thought that for someone who had just been informed that the man he had admired and trusted had been planning to have him killed, he was maintaining a surprising amount of calm.

"However," Snape said, "none of it was necessary. When the Dark Lord possessed Potter at the Ministry, he did not expect to be met with a fragment of his own soul. The encounter left Potter momentarily dead, or as good as dead, and in that instance the soul fragment latched onto its original owner. When Dumbledore destroyed the Dark Lord soon afterward, he destroyed both soul fragments and ensured that the Dark Lord would never rise again."

Lupin leaned forward. "Is there some proof of this?"

Snape motioned at Harry. "We can see that he no longer has the cursed scar, but I agree that in itself is not proof. I suggest you speak to the Headmaster's portrait yourself, and see if what he says will convince you."

Lupin nodded slowly. "I might do that, but... if you are satisfied..."

"I am," Snape said.

I'm not, Harry said to himself. How could he be, when Snape had just explained exactly how and why Voldemort could return? Dumbledore had missed something. Having just heard that Dumbledore had been plotting to murder him, Harry was not prepared to accept that the old man couldn't have made a mistake somewhere.

"All right," Lupin said, looking just a fraction more relaxed. "Then the new prophecy is not about Voldemort. Still, it is troubling."

Harry felt like he was about to explode. Once again, he was being told that he was wrong, when he was absolutely certain he was not. Really, who else was going to return with the aid of a loyal servant and an ancient power and some horrible ritual involving sacrifices? How could they even think it wasn't about Voldemort?

"Harry," Lupin said, squeezing Harry's hand between both of his. "We're going to take this very seriously, I promise you. I will review all the research myself. We are not going to ignore this. If anything else happens, or if you hear anything, from any source, I want you to tell me immediately, do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Lupin gave him a slightly suspicious look, but patted his hand again and then let him go. "I see it's nearly dinner time. Can we take care of his scar in time?"

"I'm afraid not," Snape said, shaking his head. "His hand will be bandaged at least overnight. If we do it now, he may be able to join us for breakfast tomorrow."

Harry looked down at his hand. The scar was vividly white; he realized he had clutched a handful of his shirt in his clenched fist. "I don't understand why this is happening," he said irritably. "Is it the charms again? Is this sort of thing going to keep happening? Did you say my eyes might change back, too?"

Lupin's shoulders slumped. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "We are only guessing, Harry. We know the charms are wearing off, but it has caught us by surprise how quickly it is happening and the effect it is having on you. We never expected they would wear off at your sixteenth birthday rather than your seventeenth. We never considered they might affect your magic. There are," Lupin said with another sigh, "unfortunately quite a few things we didn't expect."

"We knew taking the potion was a risk," Snape put in. "Making the changes as fluid as possible should have been enough to keep the charms from destabilizing. I may have miscalculated somewhere... I had very little time to work on the formula." Snape frowned at Lupin. "I certainly had no interest in those charms wearing off, Lupin, so I hope you haven't been getting the wrong idea. When it seemed that Potter's stay as Hadrian might be longer than we thought, I agreed with your suggestion to try to treat him as I would a son. But that does not change anything... it doesn't change my feelings on the matter."

Harry really hated when they talked about him as if he wasn't there, he really did. Especially when what they said revealed just how often they discussed him when he wasn't around.

Lupin shook his head slowly, letting out a breath. "I had hoped you would change your mind, the more time you spent with Hadrian. I won't stop hoping it, Severus."

"It won't work," Snape said, looking away. "There are too many things you don't know. Too many things in the past that won't stay dead."

"Maybe --" Lupin began.

"No," Snape said shortly.

Lupin fell silent. After a minute he seemed to remember that Harry was still sitting next to him. He smiled wanly.

"You see, Harry, you might have to spend a lot more time as Hadrian than any of us thought. We don't know when the Ministry will stabilize. Even though we believe Scrimgeour will be the next Minister, we have no way of knowing how aggressively he will pursue those who made things so difficult for all of us, and you especially. We could not even be sure, right away, if he truly means no harm to you."

"I get it," Harry said, feeling a bit let down. Lupin had to have known that Snape would never be a great father to anyone, and especially not to Harry. At least this explained the odd way Snape had behaved toward him, that one time. Lupin must have asked him to try being warmer toward Hadrian, and that had been Snape's way of obliging him. "That's all right, Professor. It doesn't matter."

Lupin patted him again. Harry was starting to feel like some stray dog Lupin had tried to foist off on someone he thought might take care of it, only to have it kicked into the gutter again.

After a while Lupin shook himself and sat up a little straighter. "Well, we will just have to do the best we can with what we have, won't we? Professor Snape is still researching the problem, and perhaps a few days without using those potions will do some good as well, after all."

"It does seem that the charms are destabilized more each time he uses them," Snape agreed, frowning. "I have not found a cause and I still believe it should not have happened."

"Still, it did, and we must move forward. I am researching the charms Lily used, and I hope to be able to replicate them."

"Replicate them?" Harry repeated. "What for?"

Snape coughed derisively, causing Lupin to frown at him.

"Well... how am I supposed to know?" Harry muttered under his breath. "It's not like anyone ever explains."

"It's a bit complicated, Harry."

"Fine," Harry muttered. "Don't explain."

"Potter," Snape said in a warning tone. "Mind yourself."

Harry hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest.

"There's the dinner bell," Lupin said with a frustrated sigh. "Harry can't go... what do we do?"

"You go," Snape said, still giving Harry an annoyed look. "Tell them Hadrian and I will eat dinner privately tonight as he is feeling particularly sad about his mother."

Harry choked down his outrage, just imagining what Ron and the twins would think when they heard that.

Lupin patted Harry's shoulder again as he got up. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," Harry said, not very convincingly. "It's fine."

Lupin sighed again, but left Snape's office without another word.

Harry stared determinately at the floor. He could feel that Snape was still looking at him.

Finally, Snape stood up. "I will return shortly to take care of your scar. Don't touch anything."

Harry's eyes jumped impulsively to the box with the horcruxes.

Snape saw him looking at it and narrowed his eyes. "It won't open for you, so you need not try. Dumbledore made certain that only those who could be trusted with the contents would be able to access it."

"I wasn't going to open it," Harry said defensively.

Snape huffed and strode out of his office, letting the door bang behind him.

Harry stared at the box.

Without really intending to, he reached out at ran his hand over the golden phoenix on the lock.

The box snapped open with a nerve-jarring bang.

Harry, my dear boy...

Harry jumped at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, tinny and hollow, like a bad recording, that came floating out of the box.

If you are listening to this message, then you already suspect what it is you must do. You, and none other, for if you are listening to this message it means that we have failed you. I do not blame you if you think less of me now, much as I hope that, somehow, you can understand my actions. My greatest hope is that the contents of this box will prove useful. Be brave, Harry, for on your shoulders lies the only chance for our world to know peace. Good-bye, my boy, and good luck.

Harry frowned, leaning closer, but the box did not speak again. Instead, there was a snapping sound and a small panel popped out, revealing a hidden compartment.

Harry peered suspiciously inside, but the object that was wedged in the hole looked harmless.

Carefully, Harry took it out.

It was a snitch, completely worn out and unmoving.

He put it carefully into his pocket, and was just about to close the box and shove it away before Snape came back and caught him with it, when he noticed that there was something else inside the compartment, wrapped in a bit of dark cloth that matched the wood.

He lifted it out. It was a tiny bottle, a strand of silver floating inside it. A memory.

He pocketed that, as well.

He found himself looking through the rest of the things inside the box, but he tried not to touch them. It was only when he saw a roll of parchment labeled 'Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' that he could not stop himself.

It was clearly a working draft rather than a final product. There were things crossed out and notes in the margins. Harry scanned the parchment until his eyes caught a familiar name.

To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.

Harry frowned and looked back inside the box. The book was there, leaning against the cup Snape had shown them earlier.

He picked it up and looked it over, but it was just a book of stories, and he couldn't begin to think why Dumbledore would leave it to Hermione.

Harry stared at it for a while, until he heard Snape's footsteps in the corridor outside, jammed the book into the pocket already containing the snitch and the bottled memory, and tried to make Snape's desk look like it hadn't been disturbed.

Snape walked in, carrying some bandages and a flask of yellow liquid. He looked around suspiciously.

But the box was closed and back in its place, and Snape seemed to accept that Harry hadn't done anything he shouldn't have.

"Put your hand on my desk," Snape said, setting his package down and taking out his wand.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, laying his hand palm down on the cold surface.

Snape's wand slashed through the air and Harry jerked back with a cry of pain, cradling his stinging hand against his chest.

"Just what I said I would," Snape said. "I apologize if that hurt, but it was best to get it over with quickly, was it not?"

Harry's mouth dropped open, but he was beyond speech.

"Let me see it."

Harry shook his head mutinously.

"Fine." Snape soaked a bandage in the yellow liquid and offered it to Harry. "Here."

Harry took the offered cloth and took his hand away from his chest long enough to wrap it up.

The pain lessened considerably.

Snape sat down at his desk. Harry was afraid he might open the box and see that something was missing, and was relieved when Snape put it back in the drawer.

"It will take ten minutes or so for the potion to work. Meanwhile, there is a conversation I wish to continue with you."

Harry peered at Snape warily. First Snape hexed him, and now on top of that he was going to lecture him, too?

"You asked me, earlier today, why I joined the Dark Lord," Snape said, not looking at Harry but at something in the corner of his office. "I did not answer you, because I felt it was not your place to ask me this."

Harry nodded mutely.

"I have changed my mind."

Harry stopped nodding and went back to staring.

"The Dark Lord believed in recruiting early. By the time I was in my fifth year there were already a number of Slytherin students who had taken the Dark Mark. Some, like Lucius Malfoy, I had come to be on friendly terms with out of necessity." Snape paused, his lips thinning. "James Potter, among others, caused enough problems for me that I felt I needed all the help I could get. I was not popular, even in my own House, and I was too eager to accept help from older Slytherins whose motives I was blind to."

Harry nodded, swallowing. He was afraid to say anything lest he interrupt Snape. He had the feeling very few people had heard Snape's story, and his old curiosity made him ache to hear all of it.

Snape's shoulders were slightly hunched, and the expression on his face was increasingly far-away. "I was not a pureblood. My mother had married a Muggle. I was not aware of everything that was going on in wizard society at the time, and the little I knew about the Dark Lord did not particularly alarm me. That Dumbledore opposed him was meaningless to me. Dumbledore had always sided with Potter and Black and the rest of them, and at the time his opinion meant very little to me."

Harry found himself nodding again. He was starting to feel a little unnerved. The Snape he knew would never be sharing these things.

"In my fifth year..." Snape trailed off, his eyes focusing on Harry briefly. "Well, you saw a bit of what my fifth year was like."

Harry swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you are unaware, but the incident --" Snape's lip curled over the word and he drew a hissing breath. "The incident you observed in the Pensieve came shortly after Black and Potter nearly caused me to be mauled by their pet werewolf."

Harry bit his lip. Hearing the tone in Snape's voice when he spoke of Lupin was a bit frightening. He wondered if Snape, in his mind, had separated Lupin into two entities; Lupin the person and Lupin the beast who had attacked him. It didn't seem healthy, somehow.

"Dumbledore had sided with them, as always. I was the one who was made to suffer, forced to take an oath to not reveal Lupin's secret. They merely pretended to be contrite and promised to leave me alone. You saw how little value that promise had."

Harry nodded. He had a sudden urge to apologize, but he stomped it down. He wanted Snape to keep talking.

But Snape shook his head, and Harry almost screamed with disappointment.

"Let me see your hand."

Harry gingerly lifted the bandage and examined the lividly-red back of his hand for himself before turning it toward Snape. He didn't move it too far from his own body, though, and jerked it back when Snape took out his wand.

Snape gave him a disdainful look. "I will not hurt you again, Potter. I merely want to see if there is any residual magic left in your skin."

Harry stretched out his arm across Snape's desk, fist clenched and his shoulders hunched in preparation for another jolt of pain.

Snape poked at his hand with his wand, but kept his word and didn't try to hex him again.

"The skin will toughen overnight," Snape said, moistening another cloth in the yellow liquid and covering Harry's with it before bandaging it tightly. "Do not take this off until I have had a chance to look at it in the morning."

Harry nodded, and started to move his hand back, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid having Snape smack it with the tip of his wand.

Harry jerked back, outraged, before realizing it hadn't actually hurt this time.

"It's a crude charm," Snape said. "I did not want to use an overly strong one, since your magic seems to be reacting rather unpredictably to spells. This one affects only the bandage, and you must take care not to make abrupt movements in the presence of others."

Harry nodded. He looked down at his hand, but his eyes seemed to skeeter away, focusing instead on a corner of Snape's desk.

He was about to stand up to go, when he realized Snape had settled back in his seat, not looking as though he was about to dismiss Harry.

"My friendship with Lily," Snape began, as if the conversation had never been interrupted, "had made a difference I wasn't wholly aware of. Just as she would not have been welcome in Slytherin, neither could she join the Dark Lord's movement. I even knew, in an abstract way, that the social changes the Dark Lord wanted to bring about would be harmful to her. My fellow Slytherins certainly gave me enough grief about maintaining my friendship with her."

Harry's breath had caught in his throat at the mention of his mother, and he leaned forward to hear better.

"After our quarrel..." Snape drew a breath. "I truly felt that there were only two sides to our world, and the side she had chosen was populated by all the people I felt had done me wrong. I did not know, then, that we would make up over the following summer. I did not know that there was no way out once I joined the Dark Lord. I did not receive the Dark Mark until after I had left Hogwarts, but it was at the end of that year that I became too far committed to back out..."

Snape trailed off and did not speak again, staring broodingly at the far wall.

"Er..." Harry began cautiously. He wasn't upset, so far, by what he had heard. Sirius had told him, once, that his younger brother had joined the Death Eaters and had been killed when he realized he had made a mistake and tried to leave. "So... you made up with Lily, but you couldn't leave the Death Eaters, so instead you started to spy for Dumbledore?"

Snape's black eyes turned slowly onto Harry. There was a very long silence.

"Lupin warned me against telling you this."

Harry swallowed.

"I believe it's best that you know, now."

Harry, in the silence that followed, started to feel a sinking suspicion that Lupin might have had the right idea, and he was about to hear something he didn't want to deal with.

"No, Potter," Snape said finally. "I did not seek out Dumbledore until after I realized that in my eagerness to fit in with the Dark Lord's followers I had placed her in the direct path of danger. It was too late by then, of course. No one survived once the Dark Lord had marked them for death."

Harry didn't realize he had recoiled away from Snape until his shoulders hit the back of the hard chair. Was Snape really suggesting he'd had something to do with Voldemort targeting Harry's family?

"Why are telling me this?" Harry demanded, half rising out of his seat. "I don't understand."

Snape folded his hands in front of him on the desk. His knuckles were white. "Because, Potter, there may come a time, and it may come soon, when you will need to understand why it is entirely impossible for you to remain in my care. Lupin..." Snape pressed his lips together tightly for a few moments. "Lupin is not well, no matter what he may be telling you. He wants to ensure that you will have someone to take care of you if... once he is unable. He refuses to see why it is impossible, so it is left up to you to understand."

Harry stared at him in horror. First Snape admitted to having something to do with the deaths of Harry's parents, and now he was telling Harry that Lupin... well, it sounded like Snape was telling him Lupin was going to die.

"Your very existence reminds me of what I did. It is not something I will ever be able to put aside, no more than I could put aside my hatred for James Potter and Sirius Black."

Harry didn't know when he had stood up, but he found himself reaching for the door handle before Snape had even finished speaking, and then he was stumbling out into the corridor and shutting the door behind him, leaning against it for support.

Snape didn't come out of his office.

After a while Harry's legs no longer felt too shaky to walk, and he started walking aimlessly down the first corridor he saw.

In the dream, Harry ran from one mirror to the other, trying to get the Philosopher's Stone. The twin mirrors kept growing taller and the space between them kept growing longer, until Harry was forced by exhaustion to stop in the middle of the cavernous room.

In the corner, Trelawney was mouthing the prophecy, the words he had not heard the first time no clearer now. In another corner, a Death Eater in voluminous robes and a mask was stirring a giant cauldron made of live snakes, and Harry knew that this was the loyal servant who would bring about Voldemort's return.

Something glittered in the depth of one of the mirrors, and Harry forced himself to run again, every muscle aching.

When he looked into the mirror, he found himself looking at Voldemort, who had grown more ugly and more terrible since the last time Harry had seen him.

Voldemort raised his wand and blasted apart the glass that separated them, and Harry could only watch helplessly as he stepped into the world, reborn in flesh and blood.

Harry reached for his own wand, but all he had was Snape's spare, and when he pointed it at Voldemort nothing came out but harmless sparks.

"You cannot use my loyal servant's wand against me, you foolish boy."

The loyal servant came to stand at Voldemort's side, bending briefly to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"Show him," Voldemort commanded. "And then finish the task you were given."

The loyal servant threw back his hood and the silver mask vanished like a wisp of smoke.

It was Snape.

"I swore an oath to Dumbledore that I would kill you," Snape said, pointing his wand at Harry's heart. "And I have waited far too long for the chance."

A beam of deadly green light came hurtling toward Harry...

Harry woke up drenched in sweat and shivering, the blankets tangled around his legs.

He slumped back against the damp pillow, trying to catch his breath.

"Why," he asked the dark, silent room, "can't she ever predict something nice to happen to me?"