Harry was panting as he rounded the lake for the third time. It was a big lake, and he’d been running for quite some time, but Harry felt he should have been able to run around at least twice more before he stopped. The ache in his side, however, persuaded him to slow to a walk. It was still early. The sky was gray and the birds were just starting to chirp.

Harry shivered in the morning air and wrapped his arms around himself. He decided that he wasn’t going to push himself to the limit today. Maybe tomorrow he would be able to go farther. He turned and headed towards the entrance. He needed a shower before everybody else woke up.

..........................

An hour later, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table with Ron. Hermione had decided to go to the library before classes and Ron was reading over his homework.

Harry glanced at the head table. Snape still wasn’t there. Harry sighed and looked back at his Charms homework. Harry had been in the Great Hall for more then an hour and Snape still hadn’t shown up for breakfast. Maybe he got food sent to his rooms? Or worse, he might be somewhere planning Harry’s demise.

For some reason, this made Harry feel even more sour. In addition to his tired muscles, which were now starting to stiffen, he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and was using his breakfast time to catch up on homework. He wished he would of done his homework instead of running around the lake.

The sun shone brightly through the clear ceiling. The weather was mocking Harry. From his perspective, the sky should be gray and glum.

Right now, Harry’s mind was not with his body. His mind was going over the conversation he had had with his future self.

Possible future self, Harry reminded himself. He really didn’t want to be like the man he had seen. The man was desperate and reckless.

Did he even realize the problems he could have caused? Harry couldn’t even begin to think of the disasters that would have transpired if Malfoy, or worse, Umbridge, had seen his future self first.

“Are you cold, Harry?” Ginny asked from beside Ron. Harry pulled himself from his thoughts and realized that he was shivering at the idea. He forced himself to stop. He shook his head no, and Ginny went back to her conversation with her friends.

Harry let his mind drift away again. After his future self had left and gone back to his own time, Harry had stayed up late reading the manual his future self had given him.

The worn-out book offered help that Harry feared he would need. So he spent most of last night and the early part of this morning memorizing the brown book.

But at least the book was interesting. On the first page, Harry’s future self had written in large letters, ‘GET RID OF UMBRIDGE.’

While that may be difficult to accomplish, Harry was more then willing to try. And after all, Harry thought wickedly, there’s no time like the present.

“That’s an evil grin,” Ron said from across the table. Harry grinned wider and quietly explained his plan to him.

“I think it’s time to get rid of Umbridge. And I think I know how.”

Ron agreed immediately and they both went to find Hermione. It took longer to convince Hermione then it did Ron. But she conceded in the end.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was before Potions.

Perfect, Harry thought grimly. If Umbridge kills me I won’t have to worry about Snape. As he entered the room, though, Harry suddenly hoped that he really was doing the right thing.

“Oh Hannah, not you, too.” Harry turned around. Hannah Abbott was near Harry. Her friend Tracy seemed to be upset about something, and they were talking in low voices.

Hannah’s left hand was wrapped in gauze.

Harry felt like ice water had drenched him. He was positive the he knew how Hannah had injured her hand. He was doing the right thing and he wasn’t doing it for himself. Umbridge was hurting his friends and it was time that somebody stopped her.

It was quiet in the classroom as everybody sat down. Umbridge stood up from her chair. Harry was surprised that her canary yellow sweater hadn’t blinded anybody yet.

“Good afternoon!” Umbridge said cheerily.

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” the class chanted back pathetically. Umbridge smiled wider, making Harry want to throw something. Her sharp teeth gleamed menacingly making Harry wonder what kind of animal she’d me if she were an Animagus.

Harry raised his hand right as Umbridge was about to start talking. Umbridge looked like she smelled fresh meat. “Yes, Mr. Potter?” she asked.

“Professor, what if we got attacked in class?” Harry asked innocently.

Umbridge frowned at Harry. “Mr. Potter I think--”

“I’m not done yet Professor,” Harry interrupted her. The Gryffindors flinched. They couldn’t afford to lose any more points.

“What if we did get attacked in class?” Harry raised his hand as Umbridge tried to interrupt. Her mouth shut with an audible click.

“It could happen, so don’t deny it. For detention you make us carve lines into are hands with an illegal instrument.”

Harry laughed without humor and discreetly wiped his sweaty palm on his robe. Harry didn’t like making speeches; especially not the kind where he made them up as he went along.

Most of the class, besides Ron and Hermione, was staring at him in shock and awe. But a few who had suffered at Umbridge’s hand where nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you started cursing us, too,” Harry said grimly.

“Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said hastily, “I’m going to have to take points for disrupting my class with nonsense. Regardless of your complaints against my methods, you need to leave the rest of the class out of your personal problems.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “My personal problems? I’m sure that I am not the only one here who has a problem with you.” To the class he said, “Am I right?” A few nodded warily. They wanted to agree with Harry but they didn’t want detention. Harry knew that he would need more people to help him if he wanted to get rid of Umbridge.

“Mr. Potter, you are trying to cause an uprising in my class--”

“Don’t go and try to make me look like the bad guy,” He warned her and waved his injured hands at her.

“Detention, Mr. Po--”

“Okay, new plan,” said Harry, interrupting Umbridge once again. Harry stood up and took his wand from his jean pocket. All around him the class stared in amazement, except for Hermione and Ron.

Immediately Umbridge practically stumbled over her own hideous sequined boots sprinting to him. “What do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?” she demanded.

“Ignoring you, for a start,” he said before turning away from her. “Who wants to practice real curses and charms?”

Ron, Hermione, Dean, and a few others raised their hands.

“That’s thirty points from Gryffindor and detention for a week, Mr. Potter.” Umbrage’s voice was tainted with victory. “Now sit down and be quiet before I give you the rest of the month, as well.”

Harry laughed before answering her. “Since you fairly well ruined the whole points system, there’s nothing left for you to take,” he said. “As for detention, you can stick that up your jumper, too. I’m not going to bother to show up and there’s nothing you can do about it. I am not going to put with you banging on about Voldemort – don’t cringe – not really being back. Now, go find a kitten to strangle, or whatever it is you do for fun when there aren’t any students around. ”

With that, Harry saw that gone was the calm professor who threatened with subtly. Umbridge was sputtering with rage and Harry was loving every second of it. The delicate shade of red on Umbridge’s cheeks, of all things, reminded Harry of Dudley. If there was one thing in school Dudley Dursley excelled at, it was driving substitute teachers up the wall. His refusal to acknowledge their authority stripped them of their ability to control the class. Half of the time, the poor substitutes were too embarrassed to get another teacher to intervene, but if they tried, the class would settle just long enough for the second teacher to leave, and then it would start up again.

None of the teachers ever seemed to realize it was only the obedience of the children that gave them any leverage in the first place.

Harry practically basked in the beauty of it all. If Umbridge tried to hex him, it would be all out war, proving she was incapable of controlling the students. All Harry needed was for a few others to follow his lead, and Umbridge would be quickly rendered even more ineffectual than Professor Binns.

When Harry and Ron started throwing low level charms at each other, Umbridge flipped.

“SIT DOWN!” she screamed.

“Professor, use you’re inside voice!” Hermione scolded.

The other students were catching on now. They paired up as Harry instructed them and started to duel. Around them, chaos ensued.

“This is--I order everyone--Agh!” Umbridge stuttered and Harry daringly threw an Aguamenti at her. The class laughed as she gasped in her fully drenched clothes. Then it was like that one spell had broken a dam. Hexes and curses alike chased Umbridge out of the classroom and down the hall.

“We are going to be in so much trouble,” Hermione said faintly, watching Umbridge flee. Her small rebellious streak was running out of steam. Harry laughed and shared a look with Ron. Hermione never changed.

Umbridge never did come back to the classroom, so the students left. Everybody was in a good mood as they left. Dean and a few others came over to Harry with enthusiastic comments.

“That was fantastic!” Ron said excitedly. Hermione grudgingly nodded.

“I looked it up in the library and students have a right to rebel against any professor that is being abusive, mistreating, or neglecting students.” Hermione said.

“I don’t think I would call it abusive,” He muttered. Hermione didn’t seem to have heard and she opened her time table. “We have double Potions next.”

Ron groaned as usual. Spending two hours with Snape and Malfoy was the last thing Harry wanted to do. But he couldn’t back down now.

If Harry had known what would soon happen in Potions, he would have turned and ran.

..........................

The dudgeons were as cold and dreary as ever. Together the fifth year Gryffindors trailed toward the Potions classroom.

The dungeon door was already open. They entered and Ron sat down next to Hermione, looking oddly triumphant. Harry realized it was because he had gotten to sit next to Hermione this time and almost laughed.

Harry sat down next to Neville, who smiled at him. Then Snape slammed the dungeon door and Gryffindors and Syltherins alike jumped out of there seats.

As Snape strode to the front of the class he said, “The Cautus Monumentum potion is not an easy potion, but nonetheless that is what you all will be attempting to brew today.”

In the front of the class, Snape gestured with his wand. On the black board instructions appeared.

Snape sneered at the class and his eyes swept over them.

He met Harry’s eyes for a second and Harry shifted uncomfortable under the gaze. Snape looked away.

“The ingredients for this potion are rare. Those who fail will be paying for them.” Again Snape waved his wand and the ingredients needed appeared on each desk. “You should not require any more than what you now have. Begin.” He sat down at his desk.

Hermione read the instructions, and her eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

“Professor,” she asked. Snape stiffened and the Syltherins looked up; waiting eagerly for their favorite professor to take points.

“This potion isn’t even mentioned in are potion books, and you didn’t tell us what its uses are.”

Snape didn’t look up from his desk as he answered. “Miss Granger, think of this as a test to see how accomplished you are in this subject. You will know soon enough what its uses are.”

Hermione frowned but didn’t say anything else. She was always ready for a test. Harry, on the other hand, was suddenly feeling very sick.

Snape might test you to make sure you’re sincerely sorry. That was what his future self had said and Harry had a feeling that he was right.

Harry got started on the potion, adding ingredients to the boiling water and mixing when necessary. Harry quickly realized that if it wasn’t for himself, Neville would have already blown up the potion and most likely half the classroom with it.

“Sorry,” Neville whispered apprehensively after Harry grabbed the chopped ginger root he was about to add. The potion would have overrun if he had added the huge amount he had in his hand. “That’s okay, Neville,” Harry whispered back.

It wasn’t a rare thing for Neville to be nervous in Snape’s presence. Harry couldn’t blame him; Snape was very intimidating. It didn’t help that he had never ,been nice to Neville, or anybody else, come to think about it. Harry extinguished the fire to let the potion cool. The potion was clear like water, just like the instructions said it should be.

Five minutes later, Snape called out, “Time’s up.” He paced the room silently as he peered into the cauldrons. He went to Harry and Neville’s cauldron last. Harry held his breath as Snape came over to them and looked in the cauldron.

Harry felt his heart sink when Snape gave his and Neville’s potion a thin grin. Harry thought that the potion was fine, but if Snape looked pleased about, it that couldn’t be the case. Snape walked to the front of the room and spun around to face the nervous class.

“This potion is used to interrogate criminals,” Snape said, and then he paused as he let that comment sink in. He watched the faces of his students before he continued.

“Any memories that the criminal wouldn’t want revealed, the pleasant and the terrible, are exposed to whomever interrogates the criminal. The results to taking the potion can be different according to the person who takes it.

”Oh Merlin, Harry thought queasily. Snape wants me to drink the potion!

Sure enough Snape asked, “Who will volunteer to test the Cautus Monumentum potion?”

Of course, nobody jumped at the opportunity. In fact, the class was staring at Snape like he had lost his mind. Even the Syltherins seemed to be unsure about their professor’s sanity at the moment. After all, who would offer to have there most private memories exposed to an entire class?

But Harry was pretty sure that Snape was actually giving him a choice.

It was take the potion by your own will, and I might forgive you, or take the potion by force, and I will continue to treat you like dirt.

But maybe he was just being hopeful.

If I take the potion he might forgive me, Harry thought, and if he does forgive me, he might even be willing to teach me Occlumency again.

Harry took a deep breath. He had to do it. His future and the future of others was depending on him.

“I’ll do it,” Harry said quietly. Too quietly, it appeared, because nobody even turned to look at him.

“I’ll do it, professor,” He said louder. This time Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors turned to gape at him. Harry could see Draco with the Syltherins looking surprised but gleeful and it took all of Harry’s strength not to turn and run.

Even Snape’s mask of calm indifference had been replaced with perplexity.

That surprised Harry so much that he stared at Snape momentarily before looking quickly away, glancing at his classmates. The look on all of the students’ faces clearly suggested that they thought Harry was mentally off. Harry couldn’t blame them. He was already having second thoughts about his decision.

What if Snape used his memories against him? There was no doubt that he could make his life hell, but would he?

Harry didn’t have time to reconsider. Snape had been utterly still but now he moved and went over to Harry’s and Neville’s cauldron. He took a glass vial from an unseen pocket and filled it with the potion.

Hermione’s eyes were wide and Ron was in between anger and uncertainty as he leaned his weight from one foot to another.

Snape turned and strode toward Harry. When the professor reached Harry, he held out the potion stiffly.

Harry dared to look into the professor’s eyes. Snape just stared back, and Harry looked away first.

The class watched with bated breath as Harry took the glass bottle. He was careful not to touch Snape’s pale fingers as he took it.

The potion looks so harmless, Harry thought as he held it. Could this really be the answer to his problems?

Harry hoped desperately that it was as he uncapped the bottle. Snape gestured for the class to stand up and gather round. Snape then crossed his arms over his black clothed chest.

Harry lifted the potion to his mouth and ignored Hermione when she let out a small gasp. The mouth of the vial was cold against his lips but Harry lifted it higher and closed his eyes as he swallowed the potion. There was no going back now.

The potion tasted like emotions. Those were the only words to describe it. Contentment flowed into Harry’s stomach like warm chocolate before the bitter taste of resentment chased it away. Harry could taste misery and it sent tingles down his skin then suddenly exhilaration made him smile. He wasn’t aware when the potion vial fell out of his limp hand and broke on the stone floor.

Around Harry and his classmates, the walls of the depressing dungeon faded away. The two houses watched as the floor disappeared. Some screamed, while others yelled excitedly. In the middle of the commotion, Harry stood completely still, his eyes closed as emotions chased each other across his face. He wasn’t aware of what was happening around him or that he was being watched intently by his hated professor.

Harry came back to himself as the scene around him, his classmates, and their professor finally showed themselves. They were outside somewhere in a forest. A much younger Harry was lying contentedly in the boughs of an old oak tree.

This wasn’t what Harry had expected. He knew what memory this was and he was certain that there was nothing terrible in it.

Harry’s younger self appeared to be about eight. His face was thinner then Harry’s was now and he was reading from a rather worn book. Hermione came over to Harry. “What’s going to happen?” she asked. Harry looked at her and could see that she was worried about his privacy.

“Nothing bad,” he told her. Hermione nodded and moved back next to Ron.

The class looked up at Harry’s younger self waiting for something to happen. They didn’t need to wait long for a second later Dudley Dursley.

Most of the Syltherins started laughing at Dudley and his remarkable girth. Harry stilled in his tree and didn’t look down as Dudley came closer. The older Harry remember that he had wanted to take Dudley by surprise, and to do that he needed Dudley to get closer.

Apparently Dudley hadn’t yet seen Harry. He looked around the clearing in disappointment before stepping even closer to the oak.

No sooner had he done this then he was yanked into the air by a trap he hadn’t seen. He let out a squeal and waved his arms wildly as he hung less the a foot off the ground by a thick rope.

From the top of the tree Harry laughed before jumping down. He landed on his feet, book in hand with a smile on his face.

Dudley looked at Harry upside down and started screaming insults and threats. Harry grinned wider and crossed his thin arms.

“Looks like I caught a whale,” he said gleefully.

Ron laughed along with a few others at younger Harry’s exclamation. Dudley stopped screaming for a minute to breathe but continued to glare at Harry with his red face.

“Just you wait until I tell Mum and Dad! Then you’ll be sorry! You won‘t eat for weeks, they‘ll lock you in the cupboard until you die!” He screamed loudly and thrashed around. Some of the Syltherins grinned, but young Harry’s smile turned icy. He stepped forward until he was right in front of Dudley.

“Dead men tell no tales,” said Harry in a threatening whisper. Then abruptly the scene changed.

This time it was dark, but they were still in the forest. The moon shone. This forest was more wild then the one in the first memory and Harry automatically knew where he was.

It was Harry’s first year at Hogwarts in this memory and Harry was walking in the Forbidden Forest with Draco. Fang followed behind them as they made there way through the forest. The older Draco didn’t seem to happy to be in this memory. He was muttering and glaring at both the memory Harry and the present one. Suddenly, the younger Harry held out his arm to stop Draco from walking any further. “Look--” he murmured.

Together they inched further toward the white thing that was lying on the ground. Some of the students gasped when they saw that it was a dead unicorn. There was a deep cut in its side and the silver blood shone brightly in the moonlight.

Some of the girls from both houses moaned to see such a pretty thing dead and unmoving. In the memory, the younger Harry stepped toward the unicorn before freezing. A slithering sound made the class and their professor look up. A bush quivered near the end of the clearing where the dead unicorn lay.

Harry knew what was going to happen, but he was still unsettled when the hooded figured crawled out of the bushes. It came across the clearing like a stalking beast. The dark hood covered the killer’s face and body, but Harry didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Voldemort.

Harry watched the scene grimly.

The class was petrified, just like the younger Harry, Draco and Fang in the memory. Voldemort reached the unicorn, lowered his head over the wound, and begun to drink its blood.

“AAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Harry was happy to see Snape and the rest of his classmates start as Draco screamed his head of in the memory.

After alerting Voldemort of their presence Draco bolted, running into the depths forest at top speed with Fang was right behind him. Voldemort had lifted his head from the unicorn and was now staring straight at Harry, silver blood dribled down his front.

Voldemort rised from the unicorn and moved swiftly toward Harry, and Harry--he couldn’t move for fear.

As Voldemort moved forward all of the students moved back, except for Hermione and Professor Snape, who knew that there was no danger.

The younger Harry gasped as pain flashed through his head. He clamped his hand over his scar just before the memory changed.

The Syltherins and Gryffindors visibly relaxed but tried to look like they had never been worried. Harry wondered what their reaction would be if they saw Voldemort in the graveyard.

Hopefully I won’t find out, Harry thought grimly.

Harry also hoped that the next memory wouldn’t be something that Snape or the Syltherins could use against him.

How often hopes prove empty.