Harry sped up, leaving the other two to trail in his wake. So, Ginny had never given up on him. She had tried, which was probably the reason she had eventually been able to talk to him, he supposed, without going all red and doing most un-Ginny like things like sticking her elbow in the butter or spilling her drinks. And he had been oblivious.

But had he? No, not completely. Now that he thought about it, he had always known exactly where she was in a room, no matter what he was doing; had known immediately if she left. He had just always tracked her automatically without even thinking about it.

If he had thought about it at all, he had just assumed he was doing the ‘big brother' thing. He had always felt protective, especially after the ‘Chamber of Secrets'. Now he knew it hadn't just been protectiveness, it had also been possessiveness.

And too, like Ron, he had positively loathed the fact that she was seeing Michael Corner-loathed Michael Corner in fact. He had happily listened to a disgruntled Ron waffling on about the poncey Ravenclaw, had even silently cheered his mate on when they had found Ginny and Michael snogging in one of the secret passageways and Ron had nearly hexed Corner into the middle of next week. Ginny had ranted and railed at Ron (and amazingly, poncey Corner had sidled away and left her to it-the coward) and threatened him with her famous Bat Bogey Hex if he did not shut his big fat mouth and mind his own business.

Thinking back on that scene, Harry remembered Ginny giving him a ferocious glare as well and he had been surprised to see tears spring to her eyes before she flounced away from the two of them. She had been nowhere close to crying whilst she had been berating Ron.

Harry couldn't believe how thick he had been. Ginny had been there right under his nose since second year, seemingly waiting for him to notice her. When his hormones had finally set him on the trail of the fairer sex, he had ignored her to concentrate on Cho Chang. What had that been all about, for God's sake?

Cho was pretty, yeah, but Ginny was just as pretty. What was more, Cho had never really gotten over Cedric. Harry had obsessed over her since he had first played Quidditch against her. With his hormones starting to sit up and take notice, he had thought Cho absolutely perfect. Not only was she pretty but she also liked Quidditch. What more could a young, pubescent wizard want?

Well Ginny fit all those criteria too and she had no ghosts of old boyfriends in her past (she had broken it off with Corner weeks ago.) And she wanted him-had always wanted him apparently. Michael had been an attempt by Ginny to get on with her life when it seemed as if Harry would never think of her as a girl instead of as a sister by proxy.

Harry grinned as he sped up even more, eager to get to the entrance hall where the students usually congregated at the end of term while they waited for the thestral drawn carriages to trundle up to the forecourt. He was eager to meet up with Ginny again and hoped that she would sit with him on the train. They had a lot to talk about. And if he was lucky and they got a couple of minutes privacy, maybe they would be able to do a little more than talk.

As Harry gained the landing at the head of the marble staircase he looked down into the entrance hall trying to see Ginny's vivid red hair amongst the sea of blondes and brunettes. The students were milling around and here and there teachers were chatting and chivvying the young people towards the doors and outside to the carriages.

Harry finally spotted Ginny standing to one side of the massive doorway chatting to Luna Lovegood. Just as he began his descent, he spotted someone else that caused the smile that had taken up residence on his tired face to disappear with the speed of a snitch.

Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost had just come out of the Great Hall accompanied by the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's resident ghost. They floated across the entrance hall together, saying goodbye to respective students from their houses.

Harry had come to a halt a couple of steps down, his eyes having taking on the haunted look that had been present for the last week until Ginny had ambushed him minutes ago, momentarily making him forget his pain.

"Harry?"

Ron and Hermione stopped beside Harry on the wide staircase. Hermione looked at him with concern and even Ron could see that this wasn't the same Harry who had just voiced his approval of the fact that he and Hermione had finally taken the first big step towards becoming a couple.

"Harry, what's the matter?" Hermione had put a hand on Harry's arm but he shook it off irritably.

"Nothing's the matter," Harry snapped. "I'm fine. Stop molly cobbling me Hermione; I'm not going to break." He pushed past Ron who was now standing one step below Harry and Hermione. Hermione eyes suddenly looked over bright and she was mashing her lower lip with her teeth. Ron glared after Harry and when it looked as if he might say something, Hermione pulled on his arm to stop him.

"Leave it Ron," she said softly. "At least he's releasing some of the emotions he's been bottling up for the last week. He has to get it out of his system." Ron grudgingly acquiesced but he looked no less angry.

Harry joined the throng of people making there way outside. He made no attempt to join Ginny who was still standing where he had first seen her. The sight of Nearly Headless Nick had brought back the crushing disappointment of the previous evening when Harry had searched the castle for the ghost to ask him if Sirius could come back as a spirit. Nick had dashed this last hope of Harry's to smithereens. And Harry had finally faced the truth; he would never see Sirius again. His Godfather was just as out of reach as his mother and father were. And as much as the thought of his mum and dad hurt, the thought of never seeing Sirius again hurt even more because he couldn't remember James and Lily but Sirius had been a major part of his life for the last two years.

Then too, there was the inescapable fact that it was his fault that Sirius was dead and every time he thought about that, his stomach filled with lead and he just wanted to scream, to release the pent up anger and grief and the bubbling guilt that consumed him.

From a great distance he heard Ginny call his name but he ducked his head down and forged a path through the crowd, ignoring the cries of complaint and Hedwig's indignant hooting as her cage banged against people's legs. Harry did not want to see Ginny again-not at the moment. He felt a wave of shame over the fact that he had allowed her to distract him from his guilt, even momentarily. He had no right being happy.

Stepping from the gloom of the entrance hall, the dazzling sunlight gave Harry an excuse for the tears that starred his vision. He could still hear Ginny calling him; her voice was joined by Ron's and Hermione's and they were catching up to him. He set off quickly across the courtyard but had only taken a few steps when another voice called his name-and this one he could not ignore.

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall sounded as stern as Harry had ever heard her. Grimacing, he turned to see her making a bee-line for him, her face looking rather pale and set. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were jogging in her wake and the four of them reached him together. Harry resolutely kept his eyes off his friends, focusing instead on Professor McGonagall.

"Er-yes Professor. Have I done something wrong?" This was the only conclusion Harry could reach. Up close Professor McGonagall looked more than a little grim.

Her expression softened a little-at least her thin mouth relaxed slightly but to say a smile appeared would have been stretching credibility. "No Potter, as far as I am aware you have done nothing wrong. However, the headmaster wishes to see you in his office."

"Now!"

"No Potter. Next term. I just thought I'd mention it now." The grimness was back in force. "Of course now."

"But..."

"No arguments Potter." She turned to the other three. "You three go on ahead." She made a shooing motion with her hand then she turned on her heel and hurried off, leaving Harry to make his own way to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"What the bloody hell's that all about?" asked Ron, looking at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"It'll have to be a quick meeting Harry, otherwise you'll miss the train," said Hermione, practical as always. "As it is, someone is going to have to side-along Apparate with you from outside the gates to get you to Hogsmeade in time."

Harry didn't much like the sound of that. He had heard that Apparition was very uncomfortable. "Yeah. Well I'd better get going then. See you on the train." Harry had continued to avoid Ginny's solemn gaze but when he turned back towards the castle, she touched his arm.

"I'll take Hedwig for you."

Harry looked at her now. Her melted chocolate eyes were probing him. He felt as if Ginny was performing Legilimency on him, trying to find out why his mood had changed so profoundly from when they had kissed in the common room.

"Thanks," mumbled Harry. He handed the cage to Ginny. "I'll see you later." Hedwig gave an admonitory hoot as she watched her master stalk off without her.

Ginny held the cage up to her face and looked into the owls large amber eyes. "Don't worry Hedwig. He'll come back. To both of us-eventually."

Harry jogged across the forecourt, retracing his steps from minutes before. Stepping into the gloom of the entrance hall, he was temporarily blinded and so didn't see the person rushing to get outside. They collided and Harry was nearly knocked onto his backside.

"Watch it Potter!" It was taking his eyes a while to adjust to the gloom but he recognised the voice. It was Theodore Nott, a Slytherin boy in Harry's year; one whose father he knew was a Death Eater. "Those glasses aren't doing you much good, Four Eyes. Ever think of getting them adjusted?"

"Get stuffed, Nott," returned Harry hotly. "In case your brain was addled by the collision, you bumped into me as well and you haven't just come in from the bright sunlight." Nott's lip curled and he deliberately bumped Harry's shoulder again as he passed. Hard. Harry looked after him, rubbing the sore spot. Belatedly, he remembered that Dumbledore was probably waiting for him. He took one step and  his trainer came down on something small and hard. He lifted his foot and peered down. His eyes had adjusted to the gloom now and he could clearly see a small silver pendant and chain.

Harry bent down and picked it up. Holding it up in front of his face, he saw that the pendant was a cute little Hedgehog-or maybe it was a Knarl. To look at, the two animals were indistinguishable. Some girl was going to be really upset to have lost this. It looked to be very expensive. He would give it to Dumbledore and he could find the owner next term. Maybe there would be a magical signature he could discern, or maybe one of the teachers might have seen it around the neck of its owner. Harry clutched the pendant tightly in his fist as he hurriedly crossed the great expanse of marble floor and began to ascend the great staircase, two steps at a time.

A couple of minutes later, Harry reached the huge stone gargoyle that guarded the staircase to the headmaster's office. When he stopped in front of the statue, he looked at it blankly. He didn't know the password! The last time he had entered Dumbledore's office from this corridor, the password had been ‘Fizzing Whizzbee'. The memory of that evening still made Harry's insides boil and the thin white scars etched onto the back of his right hand stung as though they had just been carved there; the words quite clear for all to see: I must not tell lies.

"Fizzing Whizzbee," said Harry, unhopefully but to his amazement the gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside. Harry stepped onto the revolving stone escalator and was carried upwards. Eventually, he stepped off into an antechamber and was surprised to see Dumbledore's office door open. In all the times he had visited the headmaster's office before, this had never been the case.

"Come in, Harry," called Dumbledore. Harry stepped through the doorway and came to a halt just inside the office. The headmaster was not alone. Professor McGonagall must have come up immediately after speaking to Harry because she was standing slightly behind Dumbledore's left shoulder where he was sitting behind his magnificent mahogany desk. She still looked forbidding, her face quite pale and her lips set in a tight line. But it was the sight of the tall, dark figure standing in front of the fireplace that took Harry aback.

His breath caught in his throat and he began to shake with rage. His hands  clenched so tightly that the needle sharp metal quills of the hedgehog/Knarl dug deeply into his palm, breaking the skin. But Harry was too incensed to notice the pain. His eyes were narrowed and filled with deepest loathing as he stared at Severus Snape and Snape's eyes were equally so as he glared down his supercilious nose at Harry.

Harry's hand itched to pull out his wand and the vision of Snape writhing on the floor and screaming in agony as he, Harry held him under the Cruciatus Curse was almost overwhelming. At that moment he didn't care that it was an unforgivable curse and illegal because what Snape had done a week ago was equally unforgivable. The greasy arsehole had to take a large portion of the blame for Sirius' death. He knew that Snape had delayed letting the ‘Order' know that Harry and his friends had disappeared from Hogwarts on a rescue mission-had delayed because he had known Sirius would leave the safety of Grimmauld Place to go and rescue Harry, knowing that his Godson had been lured to the Ministry by Voldemort. Harry had not for one instant believed Dumbledore's version of events.

Dumbledore could not help but be aware of the extreme tension between his potions master and the boy he loved like a grandson because he cleared his throat and shot a warning look at Snape. Snape sneered and looked away from Harry.

"Come and sit down Harry. We have some things to discuss." Through his rage Harry could hear the exhaustion in Dumbledore's voice, so he tried to put his anger behind him but God, it was hard. What was the headmaster playing at? He knew how much Harry detested Snape, especially after recent events, so why would he arrange a meeting with Snape being present? He walked forward, his back stiff with resentment. He sat in the chair Dumbledore indicated he take but remained perched on the very edge.

"Sir, what's going on? I'm going to be late for the train," he said stiffly.

"You will not be returning to London on the train today Harry. I have arranged another means to get you home."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "But why?"

Dumbledore peered sadly over the top of his half-moon spectacles.                "For your safety my boy. We have discerned a great increase in Death Eater activity since the unfortunate events of a week ago. It would seem that Voldemort's desire to get his hands on you has increased exponentially along with his rage since the events at the Ministry and the incarceration of some of his most trusted lieutenants."

Harry's face, already pale due to lack of sleep blanched even further at Dumbledore's news. "So you think Death Eaters may attack the train?" he asked, appalled.

"It is a possibility."

Harry couldn't stay seated a second longer. He jumped up and glared down at the headmaster. "But then everyone else is in danger too. Ron and Hermione...and Ginny. If they don't find me, they'll have fun attacking everyone else and my friends will probably be first on their list."

He ignored Dumbledore's raised hand and his placating "Harry," and continued to rant...

"They're not going to say, ‘oh, ho hum, Potter's not here. Let's go before we frighten the boys and girls too much,' now are they?"

"Mr Potter! That is quite enough!" Professor McGonagall's tone brooked no argument and Harry desisted. He would never have spoken to his transfiguration professor and head of house as he did to the headmaster and he was not about to start now. She intimidated him in a way that Dumbledore never had and at the moment, she made him feel more than a little ashamed of his outburst. He had yelled at the headmaster quite a bit lately and he knew he had to stop. He wanted to stop but his temper just seemed to overwhelm him these days.

"My boy, I understand your very real concerns but you cannot possibly think I would send the students off if they were not fully protected. There is a large contingent of Order members and Aurors on board. No harm will come to anyone."

"But if that's the case, why can't I go on the train as well?"

"Harry, you must allow me to do what I think is best. This plan is a double guarantee that you will arrive at your aunt and uncles with all possible speed and totally safe and sound."

"Oh, great," gritted Harry through clenched teeth. "You must know how much I long to get back with the Dursleys hours before I normally would." A sudden wave of dizziness swept over him and he flopped back down into the chair and dragged in a deep breath. He supposed his present anger combined with lack of food and sleep was causing this reaction. He hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and then only a mouthful or two at Hermione's insistence.

"Harry, I know how distressing this must be for you believe me but you know now-after recent disclosures-why your safety is paramount."

Harry jumped to his feet again, staggering slightly against the desk. Dumbledore and McGonagall both looked at him with concern and Snape straightened from where he had been leaning against the mantelpiece.

"Do they know-have you told them..." he yelled at the headmaster. He threw his arm out in Snape's direction. "Have you told him about the prophecy?

"As senior members of the Order..."

"I don't give a stuff about the Order! He was a senior member of the Order when he cleared a pathway for Sirius to be killed." Snape blanched at these words but Harry did not see. "And now you've told him the contents of the prophecy and he can skip along to that murdering arsehole he worships and tell him what you've been trying to keep a secret since before I was born. The secret my mum and dad died trying to protect."

Harry was shaking so badly at the end of this tirade that his legs would not support him and he fell back into the chair again.

"That will be quite enough Harry." Dumbledore had not raised his voice but his annoyance was quite plain for everyone present to hear. Power and authority radiated off him in waves.

Snape's black eyes were fixed on Harry and his brow creased as he listened to the harsh sound of the boy's agitated breathing. As he watched, Harry raised a shaking hand and wiped away beads of perspiration from his forehead, rubbing the wet hand on a leg of his jeans. Snape could clearly see the wet patch. Potter did not look well and he was sure it was more than anger causing this extreme reaction.

Dumbledore took advantage of Harry's silence. "Professor Snape will floo with you to Arabella Figg's house and then you will Apparate with him to your aunt and uncles."

Harry goggled at headmaster. "Are you mad? I'm not going anywhere with him. Haven't you been listening to me?"

"You will do as you are told Harry." Dumbledore had raised his voice a little this time but Harry did not care.

He stood up carefully, locking his knees so that he could stay erect. He really was feeling very strange. "You'll have to stun me," he said through bloodless lips.

Harry turned his back on a tired Dumbledore and a profoundly shocked Professor McGonagall. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to get out of there. He tried to walk away but the floor seemed to be heaving under his feet like the deck of a ship being tossed about in a storm and his vision had narrowed down to a dark tunnel. He knocked into the chair he had been sitting in and he grabbed the arm to steady himself.

Harry shut his eyes and shook his head to try and clear it. From a distance he heard another chair scrape across the floor as it was pushed back and then several voices, though he couldn't understand what they were saying.

Harry took one, two, three ungainly steps and then; as if in slow motion he fell to his knees. He did not feel the strong arms come around him because a sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea engulfed him and he started retching violently; the delicate tissue in his throat tearing with the ferocity of the onslaught. At first there was nothing to bring up but then blood bubbled out of his gaping mouth. His belly and intestines felt as though they were in a vice and the pain had him falling on his side and curling his legs up to his belly. He stopped retching long enough to scream his agony before his eyes rolled up into his head and his whole body began to convulse.

&&&&

Severus was across the room in an instant and had grabbed Harry just as his legs gave way. He wrapped his arms around the boy's chest from behind so that he did not crash to the floor. He tuned Dumbledore and McGonagall's anxious questions out as they hovered because it took all his concentration to support Potter. He could see the boy was in a bad way and he swore viciously when he started vomiting blood; it was obvious he was in agony.

Snape was already scooping Harry up in his strong arms when the convulsions started. He held on for dear life as the fine frame quaked in his arms. He had to get him to his lab where all his equipment was. He strode to the fire and stepped in pulling Harry closer to his chest to protect his head and calling desperately, "Floo powder Albus!" Luckily, Dumbledore was keeping up, despite his obvious shock and within seconds, Snape was stepping out of his fireplace and striding across his living room towards his private laboratory.

Dumbledore and an ashen faced Minerva were seconds behind. Snape lowered the still convulsing boy onto a wide marble work bench. "Hold him so he doesn't fall," he ordered and as both Magi did their best to protect Harry, Snape strode to a huge bureau divided into dozens of labelled drawers. Without hesitation, he pulled one open and extracted a small, shrivelled, kidney shaped stone; then without ceremony, he nudged Dumbledore out of the way, prised open Harry's blue lips and forced the bezoar between his teeth.

Immediately, Harry gasped, then collapsed. His breathing had settled into an overly fast and rattly rhythm but it was an obvious effort for the boy to drag in much needed oxygen. He was using all the ancillary muscles in his neck and abdomen to assist those in his chest. Now that Harry was still, Severus bent close to his face and sniffed at his breath. After several seconds, he straightened and strode back to the bureau, his brow furrowed.

Minerva, who had tears in her eyes and was shaking badly, drew her wand and as though she needed something to do, she conjured a pillow and a thin mattress under Harry and a light blanket to cover him. It seemed she could not stand to see the already suffering boy lying on the cold, marble surface-almost as if he was dead. Still not finished with the need to fuss, she removed his glasses with a shaking hand before conjuring a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth and gently wiping the boys sweaty, bloody face.

Dumbledore watched Minerva satisfy her mothering instincts then with a long, heartrending sigh, he turned to Severus who was gathering together a collection of ingredients, his concentration totally on the job in hand.

"Obviously somebody within Hogwarts has gotten to Harry," said Dumbledore, asking a question but stating the obvious at the same time. "Do you know what they have used, Severus?"

"At the moment it is not absolutely clear but I would go so far as to say that someone has tried to concoct a poison using several ingredients highly lethal in their own right." Severus' voice was grim. "Two particular ingredients that I think I can detect on the boy's breath should never be mixed together. An unknown cocktail has been brewed by a person or person's determined to succeed in killing him.

Severus continued opening and closing drawers, placing items in a certain order on another work bench. It was several seconds before he continued to speak. "Our saving grace is that this dunderheaded potioneer has no clue how one ingredient interacts with another and he has chosen poisons that counteract each other and so their efficacy is diminished. Mixed with the proper catalysts, any one of the poisons I think I can detect would have killed Potter within minutes. There is only one student in Hogwarts at the moment with the knowledge and the skill to prepare a potion as lethal as this one should have been.

"I take it that you are sure the talented young potioneer you speak of would not have been responsible for this brew."

"Unless the young lady is under the Imperious Curse I would say without fear of contradiction that Hermione Granger most definitely did not try to kill Harry Potter." Dumbledore nodded as if he was sure all along whom it was that Severus had been speaking of.

Suddenly a terrible scream rent the air and both wizards spun around to see Minerva battling a furiously writhing boy who was trying to throw himself off the bench. Something small and silver in colour flew past Snape's face as he rushed to assist Minerva. He vaguely heard it hit the stone floor

"No...don't do it. Dad, please stop...just run. You can't beat him! " Severus reached Harry just as he would have punched Minerva. He wrestled Harry backwards and was surprised at the strength the boy suddenly possessed when he should have been as weak as a kitten after his recent attacks. Dumbledore stepped in to lend his assistance again and both men looked a little the worse for wear when Harry finally lay motionless.

Dumbledore had collapsed onto a nearby stool and Snape was standing beside the bench upon which Harry lay, his head bowed as he tried to regain his breath. When he heard Minerva gasp, he looked up quickly, sweeping his long hair out of his eyes.

Minerva had started to sponge Harry's face but now she was looking aghast, the flannel now clamped in a clawed hand against her thin chest, a wet patch spreading across her dark green robes. Snape could immediately see what had distracted her from her task.

Blood was leaking out of the inside corner of each of Harry's eyes and the corner of his mouth. Snapes stomach clenched. Grasping his wand, he banished Harry's T-shirt and jeans; leaving him lying in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"What's happening Severus?" asked a shaky voiced Minerva. Harry's torso and legs were marred by big, ugly blue splotches.

"He's bleeding internally," intoned Severus and Dumbledore together. Then Snape continued. "I'll have to ask you both to watch him while I work. If he throws himself off that bench, he may well rupture something and I may not be able to stop the resultant haemorrhage.

"Can't we cast a light Somulus charm on him?" asked Minerva, her voice distressed. "Just to protect him?"

"No!" Snape's voice was adamant. "I don't want magic mixed in with whatever is in his system. There is no telling how they will react together. The bezoar is at least keeping him alive for the moment but I have still to establish exactly what has been used."

Snape had continued with a gentle examination of Harry while he had been speaking. He was lowering Harry's right arm where he had been feeling in his axilla for swollen glands when he noticed the boy's right hand. It looked swollen and the fingers were clenched tight. Snape turned the hand over and prised the fingers open.

It was indeed badly swollen. The skin covering his fingers was stretched tight and the whole was an ugly purple colour. Snape's brow furrowed and he peered at Harry's palm more closely. Two tiny pinpricks no more than three millimetres apart were visible, and blood was smeared across the palm; a droplet of blood still welled from each of the wounds which were badly inflamed.

What on earth could have caused such wounds? Snape thought back over the last fraught 15 minutes since Harry had first become unwell. When he had collapsed onto the floor and begun to retch, only a trickle of bile had appeared before the blood. Potter's stomach had been empty so it was unlikely that he had ingested the poison.

Never having been accused of being slow on the uptake, it only took seconds for Snape to make the connection between Harry's condition, the state his hand was in and the small, silver object that had flown past his face during Harry's latest struggle.

Making sure Minerva and Dumbledore stayed beside the boy in case he started to seize again, Snape strode across the stone floor to where he thought he had heard the object land. After about twenty seconds of searching with his wand tip illuminated so that it would reflect off the metal, he found it-a small silver pendant on a fine chain-in a corner where one of his ingredients cabinets met the wall.

Using a levitation charm he studied the item at eye level and saw that the pendant was a hedgehog (or perhaps a Knarl) and that a couple of the sharp quills appeared to be bloodstained. Guiding it with his wand, Snape levitated the item over to his work bench and dropped it into a shallow glass dish. Dumbledore crossed to his side and looked down his long crooked nose.

"It would appear that this was the means of delivering the poisons into Potter's system," intoned Snape grimly.

Albus looked from the innocent looking piece of jewellery to his potions master. "Which would beg the question, Severus: How did Harry get hold of this?"

Snape rubbed a tired hand through his greasy hair and grimaced in disgust at the feel of it. "That can be the first question we ask the boy if I can identify the poisons used and concoct the necessary antidotes."