The minutes dragged for Harry as he lay there becoming more and more worked up.

He couldn't get the images from his dream out of his head: Dumbledore's desperate pleading, and the vehemence that Severus had shown as he'd turned upon the Headmaster, betraying them all in the most terrible manner imaginable.

It was no good. Harry flung his bedclothes back, grabbed his wand and leapt out of bed.

He had to know if Severus was genuine, if he was truly on the Order's side or if everything had been one huge lie for him all along.

Without bothering to waste seconds dressing, and no longer caring about whether he was disturbing his dorm-mates, Harry cast Lumos and bolted out of his dorm and along to Severus' rooms. Briefly laying his hand on the cold dungeon wall to gain entrance, he charged into the room.

"Severus?" he called sharply. "Severus?"

There was no reply.

He crossed the lounge and banged loudly on the Professor's bedroom door.

Surely he should have been out by now, he's hardly a heavy sleeper, Harry thought, remembering the times he'd woke him before. He tried the door handle, but it was locked and Alohomora had no effect.

Slumping to the floor Harry breathed hard. As his breathing began to steady he tried to take stock of things. It hadn't been the wisest idea, storming in here to demand the truth. Wasn't this just a prime example of him being reckless and impatient? At best, he'd risked seriously pissing Severus off by falsely accusing him of such terrible acts, but if his dreams were true...well. He dreaded to think what the result could have been.

But what can I do? Dumbledore's made it plain that he won't listen to me and I've got to do something, Harry thought grimly.

Some three hundred miles away, in the depths of Wiltshire, Severus had locked himself into one of the impressively huge bathrooms which adorned Malfoy Manor.

Stood in front of a vast, silver framed mirror, he watched numbly as the water streamed over his hands, washing the reddish-brown stains from his fingers. Carefully examining shirt cuffs which were already spotless, he nevertheless cast a series of extensive cleansing charms.

Unable to procrastinate any longer, he rejoined Lucius back in one of the ground floor lounges.

The haughty blond wizard looked up as he entered the room.

"Drink?"

Taking the heavy crystal rummer which was offered, Severus swiftly knocked the firewhiskey back.

"I take it you're thirsty?" Lucius sounded amused.

"I'd better go; the old fool will be expecting my report."

"Let him wait," Lucius said carelessly, wordlessly sending the decanter towards him.

Taking the hovering decanter, Severus sat stiffly on a sofa and poured himself another large measure.

"So," Lucius said, leaning forward, having barely touched his own drink. "What went wrong with your potion tonight?"

"Nothing." Severus sounded distant as he sipped his drink.

"Come Severus, surely we have known each other long enough to own our mistakes?"

"As I have already said, there was no error." He tucked a strand of his greasy, dark hair back from his face, glaring at the other wizard with glinting obsidian eyes, as if he were challenging him to disagree.

"Oh, I'm not doubting the potions efficacy," Lucius said. "I'm just pointing out that you gave that scum a very mild send off; a little blood at the end it is true, but a remarkably pain-free demise all the same."

"A women and children." He shrugged slightly. "I chose to keep my more noteworthy potions for other occasions."

Lucius raised one fine blond eyebrow. "Growing a heart in your old age, Severus?"

Severus snorted. "I simply didn't want to waste my finest brews. There are certain mudbloods that the Dark Lord desires to speak. If Bellatrix hadn't finished with the men before I arrived they would have been prime candidates for my latest concoction. I have created a batch of poison which incorporates Veritaserum laced with a sensitiser;" Severus paused, seeming to picture the scene in his mind. "We can anticipate hearing the mudbloods literally scream their secrets at us whilst they die."

Lucius gave a thin smile. "You're a cold bastard, Severus, you always were."

Severus nodded his head slightly at the compliment.

"Quite right of course," the aristocratic Death Eater continued carelessly. "Far better to save the best brews for those who've earned the consideration. You'll keep a little on hand for me, won't you, should I ever ask you for it?"

"For Narcissa, I take it?"

Lucius looked at him sharply.

"Draco's spoken of the situation to you?"

"Of course not. I am, however, in the habit of legilimising all my young snakes from time to time. Moreover, I am not a fool. How long did you think it would be before I realised she was missing?"

Lucius sighed and took a sip of his drink.

"It's hit him hard," he said at last.

"How could it not?"

"I thought that she would have been found by now, but she's clearly either left the country or dead. We can only hope for the latter."

"You've done a good job of keeping it under wraps so far."

Lucius pursed his lips. "Of course. It's the dishonour to the Malfoy name which is the worse thing about the whole affair. Did you know, Draco has actually volunteered to exact vengeance himself when we find her and her accomplices?"

"It is his birthright she threatens." Severus said, making a gesture as if to say he understood the boy's motives. Inwardly he disapproved of Draco's audacity, a little reluctance would surely be prudent when planning his Mother's death.

"He's a good boy," Lucius said taking the decanter from Severus. "The situation is untenable, but cannot last forever." He gave a tight, little smile. "And when we find her, assuming she's still alive, your potion will come in handy."

Severus headed straight to Dumbledore's quarters upon his return to Hogwarts. The elderly wizard was already awake and waiting for him.

"Tonight?" he asked simply.

Severus nodded tersely. "Their bodies will be found tomorrow, it'll be in The Daily Prophet."

"And so it begins once more," Dumbledore murmured to himself mournfully. "How many?"

"Peterson, Doel, McNulty and James."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged.

"And their families?"

"Dead," the word was practically spat out.

"The children, even?"

"They're all dead, Albus, I killed them all."

The Headmaster looked up sharply. "You did not kill them, Severus. You warned us time and time again, and did everything that you could to prevent this."

"The wives and children were poisoned, by my hand, using potions I brewed. If that doesn't mean I killed them your deductive skills are seriously askew," Severus sneered.

"Severus," Dumbledore protested. "You must not blame yourself; this is not your fault."

The younger wizard shrugged and took a moment to respond, clearly fighting to maintain his callous demeanour. "Please, it is hardly the first time that I have been responsible for such atrocities, albeit that the victims aren't usually..." his voice faltered and he looked away.

"Severus." Albus was on his feet and beside the younger wizard as quickly as he could. He gently led him to a chair.

"I don't need you to mollycoddle me," he muttered.

"I doubt you have ever been mollycoddled in your life."

Cradling his face in his palms for some minutes, Severus almost seemed to rock forward in the intensity of his grief.

Eventually he looked up with bloodshot eyes.

"They were only children."

"You have been party to things which no one should ever have to witness," Albus said regretfully.

"As if that even matters for a moment," Severus spat back at him. "They had to give their lives, which rather puts my feelings into perspective somewhat."

"Were you able to use the potion you planned for such an eventuality?"

The potions master nodded curtly. "They didn't suffer; I was able to make sure of that, at least as far as the families were concerned. However, Bellatrix had her way with the Aurors before I could intercede for them..." He gave a grimace and let out a pained breath. "I must go. The Dark Lord has said that he might summon me again, should he require my assistance later."

Dumbledore nodded, deeply troubled.

"I beg that you will not burden yourself with guilt for this atrocity."

Severus rose. "What would you have me do?" he said softly. "The situation is what it is; and I will have to live with it."

As the next day dawned Harry was no closer to a decision. He made his way to breakfast looking furtively over his shoulder as he passed through the Slytherin Common Room.

The Great Hall was aflame with students poring over newspapers and holding panicked conversations. Grabbing a seat beside Hermione, Harry wasted no time in demanding answers.

"What's happened?"

"He's attacked," Neville replied simply, holding the paper out to him from the other side of the table; the front page showed a distraught middle-aged lady sobbing uncontrollably over the bodies of her daughter and grandchildren.

"Six kids," Harry read feeling sickened.

"And eight adults," Hermione added. "It's horrible, Harry. He's targeting Aurors who are half-bloods and their families. The Aurors were disfigured so badly that they could only be identified by their wands."

Hardly daring to look, but feeling compelled nevertheless, Harry glanced up at the teacher's table where Severus was sipping his coffee steadily, the very picture of cool indifference.

How can he carry on as normal, having been there and witnessed that? No one is that good an actor, surely?

Feeling the need to get far away, Harry handed the paper back to Neville.

"Shall we go and see Ron?" He asked Hermione.

"You've not eaten anything."

He shook his head. I can't. "Come on. If we hurry we'll have time before class."

In the medical wing Ron was on good form, despite the sobering news from The Daily Prophet; it was very clear that he was happy to be alive and well after his accident a few days previously.

"So she's letting you out tonight then?" Harry asked, nodding his head towards Madam Pomfrey who was busy dealing with a Hufflepuff in the adjacent room.

"Yeah crap isn't it? I'll be back in class before I know it!" Ron joked.

"Ron!" Hermione chided. "You should be relieved that you're well enough to come back to class so soon!"

"At least I'll be ready for quidditch practise on Friday," Ron added. "They're gonna need me for the rematch, particularly if Harry's still not planning on playing."

"You're not really going to start playing quidditch again this week?" Hermione admonished. "What if you take another knock and set back your recovery?"

"Ah, 'Mione, it's what any professional quidditch player would have to do...and they're counting on me. I can't let the team down."

Unlike me, Harry thought wryly, although he didn't allow himself to feel too bad about the situation; it was better for everyone's sake if he gave up on quidditch for the time being.

"Couldn't you just miss one game?" Hermione pleaded. "Until you're back to full strength?"

"Madam Pomfrey said it's all right to play."

"Well," Hermione seemed to realise she was being over-protective. "At least promise me that you'll be extra careful? Honestly, if you and Harry carry on like this I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown between the pair of you."

"It'll be fine, honest," Ron said shooting Harry a 'let's humour her look', although the sparkle in his eyes showed that he was clearly loving her fussing over him. "And I'm going to concentrate on getting better today, starting by having a nice, long rest while you're in History of Magic!"

That evening after Poppy had given him a clean bill of health, a very well rested Ron joined Harry and Hermione who were sat on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room surrounded by books and newspapers.

"All right? How were lessons today then? I thought of you two swotting away while I was lying in bed reading up on the Chudley Cannons!"

"Ron, after I fetched your potions text for you as well!" Hermione sounded mildly disapproving. "If you felt up to reading, you might have made better use of your time."

"Well, I still had a bit of a headache..." Ron backtracked quickly.

"Hmmf, well it's just as well I've made you copies of all my notes," she said, clearly sceptical. "But that can wait until later. I wanted to show you both some more of the research I've been doing-"

"Hermione-" Harry interrupted holding one of the back copies of The Irish Wizarding Herald, his eyes glued to a picture on one of the inside pages.

"-this book is completely fascinating, it gives a history of some of the curses around the same time as Vulnus Ictus-"

"Hermione-"

"Just a second, in the last chapter it tells us-"

"Hermione!" Harry grabbed her arm to get her attention. "You've got to look at this."

Hermione glanced up briefly. "Oh, Kyran McLaughlin, Connor's real father. Yes I did notice his picture is in quite a few of the papers; but we already knew that Connor'd said he was caught up in all the political intrigue over there so it's hardly unexpected-"

"His picture though!" For a second Harry was dumbstruck. "Hermione, it's him. The Irish man from my dreams, the one Sirius was with!"

"Are you sure?" Snatching the newspaper from Harry, she scanned the article again. "But I thought you said that man was a squib? McLaughlin is definitely a wizard."

"It's him. I know it's him. Maybe Sirius was just joking about when he called him a squib."

Ron shook his head. "Nah. Wizards wouldn't joke about things like that. I'm sorry, but they wouldn't. It's been months since you had that dream so it can't be very clear in your mind."

"It's him, I tell you; honestly, I wouldn't forget something like this!"

"Maybe we should speak to Connor again," Hermione mused, "assuming he will still talk to us after we cut him off from what was going on before."

"I'll speak to him," Harry said guiltily. "He's not going to be very pleased with me, but as it's to do with his Dad he'll definitely want to know."

"It doesn't make any sense; there's no way that my father's a squib," Connor objected shaking his head. The four of them were sprawled around an open fire in the room of requirements.

"I know, but it was him. Honestly."

"Wizards wouldn't say that as a joke-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, I don't understand why Sirius called him that any more than you do, but I'm telling you that he did," Harry sounded frustrated.

"Och, calm down, won't you, Mr Seer?" Connor gave his usual disarming grin. "Don't get your wand in a twist. I'm just saying OK?"

"Maybe the squib looked a little bit like McLaughlin, and you were thinking about Sirius being in Ireland when you read the paper and that's why you thought it was him," Ron suggested.

"...or you've finally cracked up," Connor added as an undertone.

"I've been thinking," Hermione injected. "Connor; do you think it's possible that Sirius and your father met in Azkaban? The Irish Wizarding Herald mentioned that he was previously imprisoned overseas, but it didn't say where."

"He's upset a lot of important people, I don't know about Azkaban, but he's certainly been locked up a couple times before...so maybe. What about your other dreams, Harry? Am I allowed to know about the rest of them now?"

"I can't," Harry said quietly. "I wish I could tell you, honestly I do, but I just can't."

"Are you all right though, I mean, you seem, well, a bit jumpy to be honest at the moment. Like you think someone's gonna attack you. And whatever's going on with you and Snape-"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen the way you've been with him in class recently; you look like you're scared to death of him. He's done something hasn't he? I know you've always defended him, but he's a tricky bastard and that's no mistake."

Harry could feel Hermione staring at him.

"It's fine," he mumbled. "Honest."

But it wasn't fine, and it had gone far beyond the point where Harry could pretend it was; the question was what to do about it.

The obvious answer is right in front of me, Harry realised, as Aurors continued to mill about the castle as part of the pretence that Dumbledore had been injured. They'd taken up a semi-permanent residence, settling into a series of corridors and rooms off the east side of the Great Hall.

I'd only have to say the word and the Aurors would look into it, he thought. They certainly wouldn't cover it up, or ignore me the way Dumbledore did.

But in the end, that was what held Harry back. He couldn't forget what Severus had said to him before, about the Aurors wanting to drag him off to Azkaban, or worse. He'd seen for himself over the summer that Moody had come very close to killing him, intentionally or not. Severus would never forgive him if he unleashed the full fury of his enemies upon him, and he would never forgive himself if he were wrong.

If training had been bad before, it was now worst than ever. For a few days following the recent attacks they hadn't trained. Severus had claimed he was too busy, to Harry's immense relief as it was strain enough being in the same room as him for Potions let alone private training. There were only a couple of weeks now before the Christmas holidays when Harry was supposed to be staying with Severus again, but at the moment he didn't see how he could possibly go back there.

Unable to shake the latest dream from his head, Harry had begun to question every action and gesture Severus made towards him. When they finally resumed training, each new shield seemed like it could easily be a trap to lull him into a false sense of security in battle. The training itself might be a ploy for Severus to ingratiate himself deeper with Dumbledore. In fact, when Harry considered his abysmal failure to learn wandless magic, it seemed all too plausible that Severus had never really intended to teach him anything; after all the only defensive techniques he'd actually made progress in were occluding and casting wordlessly, both areas which he'd eventually figured out himself rather than due to Severus' teaching.

And what was it that Connor had said about Severus' brutal legilimency lessons? That it was the same as trying to teach someone to ride a broom whilst having people hurling missiles at them.

He has even got me to start calling Voldemort the Dark Lord, Harry realised, and he never did give a proper explanation for that.

And yet... he had me in his house for weeks without harming me. He may not have shown me how to shield my mind, but he did spent hours helping me to get better at it. And he taught me to brew healing draughts and to recognise the smell of poisons.

And what was it Dumbledore had said? That Severus has grown very fond of me and that he worried about me. But then, he would try to give that impression wouldn't he, if it was all part of an act?

Tonight Severus had ordered him to come to a training session, which he began immediately by demonstrating a type of charmed shield which could be used to deflect curses and hexes back towards the caster.

"The incantation is 'Revibro'," he said causing the texture of his shimmering shield to become finer and more radiant. "Now cast at me."

Mindful that whatever he cast would soon be directed back at him, and unwilling to participate in any case, Harry cast a very weak Jelly-legs jinx.

The jinx barely touched Severus' shield before changing direction and returning to Harry seemingly with extra force and speed.

Harry's automatic wordless shield protected him, but then he had known it was coming.

"Now you try."

With utmost reluctance Harry cast a quick Protego and followed it up with Revibro just as he had heard Severus do before. The shimmering radiance seemed to suggest that the casting was successful.

But unlike Severus' shield which successfully changed the angle of the spell, Harry's attempt seemed useless and the Stinging hex hit him squarely on the chest.

"You need to focus upon the part of your shield which the hex is approaching," Severus told him.

Hoping desperately that this wasn't part of some huge Death-Eater joke, where Severus reported back just how few times he'd hexed him before caving in, Harry held up a hand.

"Please, I- I don't want to do this right now. Can't we just talk for a bit?"

Severus sat down on the sofa and studying Harry closely. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"I don't know," Harry looked down at the floor. "The stuff in the Prophet the other day, I suppose."

Severus expression seemed to darken. "What about it?"

"Well you've never said anything about it, but you were there, weren't you? I mean, I came here that evening, but you were out, so I'm guessing that's where you went."

Severus' eyes were cold. "What's your point, Harry?"

I'd have thought that was pretty obvious. "Were you there?"

"Yes." His answer could scarcely sound less uninviting but Harry persisted nevertheless.

"So you saw them... being killed, all those people and children?"

"As you've gathered."

"Were you part of it?"

Harry's question had scarcely been audible, but somehow Severus still managed to make it out.

"What do you think?"

Harry nodded slowly.

Severus couldn't be a traitor, there is no way he could willingly be part of such horrendous acts... Or is it that the alternative just seems too awful for me to contemplate?

"It must have been difficult for you, seeing all of that," Harry said uncertainly. "Having to act like a Death-Eater throughout it all."

"No, it was a walk in the park," Severus sneered. "Why don't you just say whatever you're really trying to get at?"

"Fine." Harry's voice became cooler to match the Professor's. "I've never asked, but after stuff like that I can't help but wonder, why you ever choice to be a Death-Eater in the first place?"

Severus' face seemed to shut down and lose all it's mobility.

Clearly, not something he's willing to share, then. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked," Harry muttered.

"It's fine," Severus interrupted irritably.

He stood up and began to pace the room whilst he answered. "I was desperate, some would term it ambitious;" he sneered the word, "my upbringing was impoverished as I'm sure you have picked up on. My father was a Muggle, he was also a miserable, lying, drunkard whom I hated him, not least for the way he treated my mother."

"So he made you hate Muggles and that made you want to join?" Harry said recalling the pensieved memory of Severus insulting his mother for being muggle-born.

"No; he made me utterly determined to be nothing like him. He lived in squalor and wasted every opportunity he'd ever been given. He was an uneducated, loathsome fool; both unable and unwilling to provide for himself, let alone a family. He never bettered himself because he resented his station in life and preferred to while away his days in a stupor."

"So it was money then?" Harry couldn't help but show his contempt. "That's what you wanted; why you became a Death-Eater?"

"Such a Gryffindor," Severus said softly. "Expecting a neat, easy answer. It was many things, and yes money was part of it. People will do almost anything for money, particularly when they know what it is like to have none. When my mother became ill, I watched her slowly wasting away over my second and third years. Doubtlessly she would have died anyway, but she wasn't helped by having to sell most of the potions she brewed, nor by the fact that my father drank all the profits she couldn't hide."

Harry considered this. In a way he'd grown up in poverty, owning little and wearing cast-off clothes, for all that the Dursleys lived in a nice, little suburban house. But had he ever really been in need? Well he'd been hungry of course, there was no denying that, but it was also clear that Severus had been much worse off than him.

"Did your mum teach you to brew?" he asked, not really wanting to pry, but realising how little he really knew about Severus' past.

"Initially; she was fairly competent at making the most basic potions, but the truth was that I had begun to surpass her skill in my second year and was brewing for her by my third year." Turning sharply to face Harry, his dark eyes seemed to bore into him.

"Have you heard enough or are there any other areas of my life that you care to rake through?"

"Just one," Harry said in a low tone. It was the question he'd been building himself up to all evening, the thing he really needed to know.

"You've talked about all your motives for becoming a Death-Eater and presumably you got the money and kudos you were after; so what changed? What made you switch sides?"

Severus gave him a long, unnerving look, his dark eyes glinting.

"Enough," he declared, turning away and walking over to his desk.

"No, come on." Harry followed him, his heart beating fast. "There must have been a reason, mustn't there? I mean, all that stuff that made you want to be a Death-Eater was still the same wasn't it? So you must have had something which made you think again?"

Severus picked up one of the heavy textbooks from his desk and began to flick through it angrily. "I came to my senses, that is all."

"But Moody didn't believe you, did he? That's why you hate each other, isn't it?" Harry could hardly believe he was daring to ask these questions, but he had to know.

The book was slammed down with a force that made Harry jump.

Severus turned to face him. "I was a boy. Barely more than a year older than you are now, none of them believed me, so they tortured me," He scoffed slightly. "As if torture somehow procures honesty; if I've learnt anything from my time around the Dark Lord it is that the only thing that torture guarantees is that the victim will say whatever the torturer wishes to hear."

"Yeah, I suppose they would," Harry said slowly. "Why didn't Moody use Veritaserum on you?"

"I was a potions prodigy, surely even you can elucidate from that?"

Oh, Severus' answer sank in. On some level he supposed he'd always known it.

"But... there isn't an antidote to Veritaserum."

"Not officially, no. But unofficially an antidote has been around for quite some time, hence the torture."

"But Dumbledore believed you."

"He did."

So we're back to that. At the heart of everything, Severus' very decision to change sides was taken at face value because Dumbledore had a hunch that he'd changed his mind. This is the man who hadnumerous motives to become a Death-Eater, Harry thought bitterly, but can't think of one good reason to have changed sides? Well, that just about said it all.

That evening when Harry went back to his dormitory Connor was the only one who was already in the room.

"All right?"

"Yeah." Harry was fairly sure his answer didn't fool anyone these days.

After a quick shower and change Harry got into bed, and the two of them lay silently in the darkness for some minutes.

"You can always come to mine," Connor said suddenly.

"What?" His mind full of the conversation he'd just had with Severus, Harry was completely nonplussed by the unexpected suggestion.

"This Christmas. You said you're probably just going to be staying here, but you seem pretty down about it all. So, I just wanted you to know, if it gets bad, if anything goes wrong... you can come to mine."

"In Ireland?" Harry sat up and looked at him in surprise. "It's not like I can just floo over!"

"I mean it." Connor climbed out of bed and sat down at the foot of Harry's bed. He seemed to fiddle with his pyjama collar and the next moment he was holding a golden locket in his hand, the chain now lying visibly around his neck.

Unfastening it, he passed it to Harry.

"It's an emergency portkey. I was given it when Finleigh became First-Minister, in case there was ever any trouble. It's activated by opening the locket, takes me to my bedroom in Ireland."

Connor placed it around Harry's neck. "You see, it becomes completely invisible when it's on your neck, until you touch it."

Harry understood only too well. This must be a similar kind of portkey to what Dumbledore had placed on the Dursleys.

"You can hang onto it," Connor told him seriously. "Whatever happens this Christmas... well, if you need it, to get away, it'd be there."

Harry shook his head. "I can't take this. What if you need it, for an emergency, like you said? And anyway aren't they really expensive? What would your dad- sorry Finleigh have to say about you giving it away."

"He'd never notice if I was there or not, never mind whether I'm kitted out with my portkey," Connor replied. "And anyway I'm always in trouble."

"I can't take it," Harry repeated decisively unfastening it from around his neck. He'd never really been too keen on portkeys since the Triwizard incident. "But thanks, I really mean it."

The last part of term sped by all too quickly for Harry. He didn't see how he could just leave with Severus, pretending that nothing was wrong, but he didn't have any other options. If only he were able to break through Severus' occlumency shields he would of legilimised him to find out the truth and to hell with the repercussions, but he already knew that wasn't possible. Even Dumbledore wasn't powerful for that, so there's no way I stand a chance.

Once again, Harry felt excluded from the cheerful anticipation that the other students felt, cramming their belongings into their trunks ready for long journeys home. The overseas students left at various stages, often slightly before what was officially the end of term and Declan came to collect Connor the night before the majority of students went home.

Harry spent his last evening with Hermione and Ron in the Gryffindor common room, trying to immerse himself in their laughter and jokes. There was almost a carnival atmosphere throughout the room, with lost belongings scattered across every available surface and everyone determined to make the most of their last night by staying up stupidly late.

Many of the Gryffindors had brought their trunks down into the common room where they could all chat together as they helped one another to cast charms which folded, tidied and shrunk their possessions into place. Some of the first years who struggled with the packing charms took a rather more direct approach, and had great fun, cramming their clothes in by stamping, pushing and even sitting on top of trunks to make things fit.

Whereas practically everyone else was searching for various mislaid possessions, as the packing became increasingly chaotic, Neville was actually managing to find whole rafts of items which had been missing since the start of term.

"Thank Merlin," he cried, seizing an indistinctive, mass of bunched up material from the depths of his trunk. "I thought my Gran was going to murder me for loosing my dress-robes!"

There was no clear end to the merry-making, rules were relaxed on the last night of term, and as long as they were all in the common room and not wandering around the castle, McGonagall didn't really care how late they stayed up.

At last, the students began to dwindle away, as their yawns became infectious and Hermione even shooed a couple of dozing first-years off to their beds. It ended up just being the three of them and a handful of rowdy second-year boys who were playing Exploding Snap and seemed impervious to the lateness of the hour or the early start they had the next day.

Finally Harry stood up, realising just how far past curfew it actually was.

"So," said Hermione lowering her voice. "Are you going to be OK, Harry? When is it the two of you set off?"

"The day after tomorrow," Harry replied matching her quiet tones. Officially he had told everyone apart from Ron and Hermione that he was staying at Hogwarts for the holiday.

"You know, it's not too late, we could all actually just stay here. Make a holiday of it together?" Ron suggested.

Harry smiled. "Don't be crazy, your families are expecting you. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow then, before you head off."

That night as Harry lay down on his bed he felt something cold and hard upon his pillow. When he cast Lumos he realised that Connor had left him the locket after all.

Holding it, motionlessly in his hand for a moment, he wondered what to do with it.

He didn't really think that Connor would do anything to harm him, and he'd already tried the locket on once before, so perhaps on balance he could accept the gift. Right now, an escape route didn't seem like a bad idea.

Slipping the chain around his neck, he felt it shift into it's weightless form, melding perfectly with his body temperature, before he lay down to sleep.

The scattering of other students which were staying at school for the holidays compelled Harry to try to act normal, as he waved his friends off in their carriages the next morning after another sleepless night. They had to leave very early, as the train departed from Hogsmeade at 9 AM and many of the Gryffindors were yawning widely as they made their way to the station, doubtlessly intending to doze off on the train. As he watched them go, internally Harry felt as if he was able to collapse from the strain of everything.

It had been nice of Ron to say they'd stay, but realistically it would have ended up with their families offering to have me come and stay, and I won't do that to them.

But I can't go to Severus' either. Not like this. No, I need to know for sure.

There is one last thing I could try, 'another way' of sorts, but closer perhaps to a last resort than any actual plan.

"Harry," Severus looked up as Harry let himself into his rooms. He'd been sat at his desk enjoying the peace and tranquillity which always descended over the castle as soon as the Hogwarts Express lot were on their way.

He frowned at the pale, set expression on the boy's face. "What is it?"

It's now or never, Harry told himself sternly, clutching his wand. I have to do it. I have to make myself do it, for Dumbledore's sake if nothing else.

"Imperio," he whispered, "I'm sorry, but you're going to do exactly as I say."

A strange feeling of power travelled over Harry, as he saw the shock and disbelief rapidly flit across the older wizard's face, before giving way to fury. Straight away, he could feel his grasp upon Severus' magical core and knew that he only had to give the order and he would open his mind.

And yet... Severus seemed to be shaking himself, almost as if he were able to resist Imperio. And of course it was possible to throw off the curse, Harry'd done it himself before, and Severus was a stronger wizard than him-

Severus had his wand in his hand now and seemed to be battling against the curse in order to point it at Harry.

"Don't!" Harry instructed wildly, his heart beating fast. "Don't attack me!"

Severus looked outraged and managed to shout, although his hand had stilled. "What do you think-"

"Don't speak, be quiet!" Harry interrupted, forcing him into a fuming silence, incapable of speaking further.

"Can you change the wards wordlessly, to stop anyone coming in here?"

A jerky nod testified that he could.

"Fine, do it."

In a series of jerky, irregular movements, as if he was fighting himself every inch of the way, Severus trained his wand around the edge of the doorway and fireplace, so that they glowed with the same dull brown hue which Harry remembered from his previous warding.

"Now give me your wand."

Utterly silent, the dark malevolence in his eyes providing the only guide to his thoughts, Severus seemed to be concentrating on resisting the curse, even as he moved to pass his wand over. In the same instance as he handed Harry the polished ebony wand there was a streak of white light and a Patronus burst forth from his wand and galloped at top speed through the door.

Flustered, Harry somehow managed to keep hold of Severus' wand and keep his own trained upon the older wizard, who was dangerously close to him.

Would a Death-Eater use a Patronus to send messages to Voldemort?

"Call it back!" he demanded.

Severus shook his head, which Harry hoped meant that he couldn't stop the Patronus, rather than that he was capable of refusing.

Severus made a small movement, and seemed to be coming closer towards him.

"Stay still! And no more magic!" Harry cried out, he was trembling, and had never felt so uncertain in his life, but he was in far too deep to turn back now.

Severus froze, his dark eyes anguished.

"Now, you're going to let me into your mind," Harry said in a shaky voice. "You're going to show me the plans you've made with Voldemort to kill Dumbledore."

He soon what he was looking for. Under Imperio all Severus' skill at occluding was swept away, and his topmost memories all confirmed Harry's worst fears about his intentions.

Severus was conducting a private meeting with Voldemort in an anonymous, yet richly furnished chamber. Knelt at Voldemort's feet, his lank hair covering his face, Severus was the very picture of a devoted servant.

"My Lord," he said with utmost respect. "I feel that the time has come for me to perform the deed we spoke of some time ago."

A wordless spell brought another chair forward from the edge of the table.

"Sit down, Severus." Voldemort's voice sounded almost amused, like a father humouring a child. His red eyes glinted in the dull light. "So you think that the time has arrived for you to kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"When better?" Severus sounded animated, almost eager in his response. "We have waited and waited over the years for a chance such as this. With him dead and gone the Order will collapse into disarray. I beg of you, give me the opportunity; I swear I will not disappoint you."

A strange expression passed over Voldemort's skeletal features, at first Harry thought he was suffering from convulsions, before he realised he was shaking in silent laughter.

"Such enthusiasm! But you are not strong enough, the old fool would surely overpower you and what good would that be? I will not have your role placed in jeopardy heedlessly."

"As you wish my Lord," Severus said struggling to hide his bitter disappointment. "Perhaps at a later date...?"

"Perhaps," Voldemort said easily. "You have always had such ambition Severus, it is one of your best qualities, but you have a tendency to over-reach yourself at times. Content yourself as you are and know that you are already useful to me."

Harry was deep in the midst of delving through another memory when Dumbledore made his way through Severus' new wards into the doorway of the lounge.

"Harry," he said in a terrible voice, "what are you doing?"

Harry lowered the wand he was holding at Severus' head.

He just stared at the Headmaster speechlessly. He hadn't wanted to believe it was true, but there was no denying it any longer; he had his proof. Severus had volunteered to kill him and Voldemort must have changed his mind.

"Severus?" Dumbledore looked at his Potions-Master before turning back to Harry, "What've you done?"

Taking a great stride into the room, Dumbledore seemed to realise what had been taking place as he muttered a counter-course quickly, releasing Severus from Imperio.

"You don't understand - He's helping Voldemort!" Harry blurted out.

Severus staggered slightly. Breathing erratically he accio'd his wand and brandished it in a posture which could have been either defensive or offensive. His dark eyes held a multitude of emotion as his gaze bore into Harry; shock at being attacked, no small measure of fury, and finally an overwhelmingly sense of betrayal.

"What!" he gasped.

"I've seen it," Harry explained, ignoring him and looking at the Headmaster. "I've had premonitions, I know what he's going to do-"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "clearly the premonitions do not show what they appear to."

"No, no, no, you have to believe me. I've seen it. I've seen it. He's going to kill you." Harry half sobbed.

Dumbledore looked deeply aggrieved, but thankfully didn't seem to be arguing.

They both paused, staring at each other, while Severus gave an ugly laugh which was totally devoid of any humour.

"This is what you think of me? I play a role! I am a spy! What do you expect to see in my memories?"

Harry and Dumbledore just continued to stare at each other in silence.

"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly.

"You need to-"

"Harry,"

"HE WILL KILL YOU!"

"Yes, but Harry he doesn't know about it; I haven't asked him yet."

"What?" Harry gasped, whilst Severus choked, "You want him to do that, to kill you? Why would you want that?" He turned accusingly to Severus. "Why would you do it?"

"You're insane. Both of you!" Severus snarled.

He was still clasping his wand, pointing it at Harry, only now there was no question of it being anything but offensive, he was clearly on the verge of casting a curse.

"How could you?" he spat.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry," Harry stuttered suddenly transfixed by the wand which was pointed straight at his face. "I had to know... I just had to know for sure. But I still don't see...how could you...how could you do that to him? "

Severus' grip tightened.

Dumbledore was very still. "Severus," he said in a low, sad voice. "Please. I beg of you; consider what you're doing."

In a sudden violent movement Severus shoved his wand away and grabbed hold of Harry.

"You should never have believed it," he snarled.

The room became a blur to Harry as he was shaken violently by both shoulders.

"Severus." Dumbledore's voice was barely above a whisper, but Harry was oblivious to his pleading, deafened as he was by his teeth rattling inside his head.

"Severus, please," he tried again.

Abruptly Severus released Harry, who went flying backwards, hurtling painfully into the wall behind him.

His heart beat crazily as Severus slowly crossed the room to kneel down beside where he lay sprawled in a bruised heap. A powerful hand shot out to relentlessly jerk Harry's chin up, leaving him no choice but to look up into the black eyes which were glittering dangerously in front of him.

Harry gave a gulp as he fought to choke back a sob. He could sense how furious Severus was, but that was to be expected. What he desperately needed was the opportunity to explain everything. Just a slither of forgiveness or understanding would be enough. Ten minutes, just ten minutes for them to talk and perhaps things could be mended.

After all, it wasn't as if he wasn't owed an explanation too.

There was a pregnant pause as they both struggled to catch their breath. What happened next would be crucial for them both.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "Please forgive me?"

Severus gave him a look of utter incredulity

"Forgive you? You miserable, little fool, I hate you for what you've done," he said coldly.

He turned on his heel, leaving Harry in a crumpled heap.

Dumbledore opened his mouth.

"Don't," Severus cut him off sharply

Dumbledore waved his wand and Harry felt himself lifted from the floor.

The Headmaster sighed and cleared his throat "I think the best thing would be if you could show us the premonition, Harry."

Gesturing a wild-eyed Severus closer, Dumbledore arranged for the pair of them to point their wands at Harry.

"Legilimens." They said in unison, and they both hit straight into Harry's hazy block, a swirling, never-ending mass of movement, snitches and broomsticks. It was a bewildering and unsettling display of power.

"Harry, stop occluding," snarled Severus.

The swirling ceased as Harry tried to allow them in. The sudden pressure on his mind was painful, particularly without his shield. He wasn't trying to prevent them entering, but Severus was using such force that it felt like his head was going to split in two. As Harry began to feel nauseous and dizzy his defences automatically began to reassert themselves; feeling them coming back Severus reacted by pushing harder and all of a sudden his block was back again in full.

"You-" Severus started as both he and Dumbledore were thrown unceremoniously backwards.

"I'm sorry..." Harry whimpered, "try again."

He lowered his block but this time as soon as Severus and Dumbledore tried to Legilimise him they were forcibly thrown out. Before Dumbledore had a chance to stop him, Severus had drawn his arm back and struck Harry across the face.

"I SAID STOP OCCLUDING."

"Argh." Harry had a thick lip from the blow and his eyes welled up with tears.

"Severus, you will control your temper, or I will remove you from this room," Dumbledore commanded, his pale blue eyes radiating danger.

Severus glared back at him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said indistinctly, "I don't think I can stop occluding."

"Oh, don't worry, I will see that you find a way." Severus replied with more menace than it should be possible to impart into such a seemly innocuous sentence.

"Severus," with a sweeping authority which could only belong to him, Dumbledore drew the wrathful wizard a few paces back, and cast a quick silencing charm, "that is not helping. He is occluding when he panics... you need to be gentler. You need to reassure him; tell him that you didn't mean it and that you will forgive him."

"And if I won't? What then?" Severus snarled, but he stalked back over to Harry and fought briefly for his years of practised composure.

"Harry," he said in a low voice

"Yesss." Harry was breathing heavily and could taste blood in his mouth where his lip had torn against his tooth. He didn't dare to look up, he couldn't bear to meet Severus' eyes again.

"You need to calm down. We can sort everything out, but only if you work with us and let us see the premonition."

"I'm sorry. I've ruined everything. I've made you hate me..."

Severus recognised the inherent plea for contradiction and fought a brief inward battle against his temper.

"I don't really hate you. I could never hate you, like it or not, I care deeply about you now and nothing will ever change that."

'Really?' Harry looked at Severus intently as if willing his reply.

Severus nodded sharply. Unwillingly.

Harry saw Dumbledore give an approving glance to Severus who scowled back at him.

This time Severus was gentler and they were able to watch the dream. Severus winced as he saw himself casting Avada Kedavra and Harry couldn't help but feel every bit as shocked and outraged as he had done before. Only Dumbledore seemed able to watch the scene calmly.

At the end Severus told Harry, "Now get out. Go to your dormitory- in Gryffindor," he added coldly.

"Severus! Harry made a genuine and perfectly understandable mistake. You of all people should be open to offering forgiveness. We're lucky he didn't go to the rest of the order, far better to keep this between ourselves for the time-being."

"He's lucky to still be breathing after what he did to me!"

Dumbledore looked as if he was about to say something before he stopped himself.

Harry jumped up hastily, unwilling to be humoured. 'It's OK, Professor. I understand; I know he didn't mean what he said earlier. And hell, there's a reason they're called unforgivables isn't there?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Why don't you go and wait for me in my study, Harry?" he said at last. "I wish to speak with you further. The password is sugarplums."

Harry was sat hunched over in a chair when the Headmaster joined him some minutes later. He cut a forlorn figure, alone, leaning upon the desk.

"Harry."

The boy didn't look up.

"Harry," Dumbledore repeated approaching the desk and laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Why?" Harry mumbled suddenly. "Why would you want him to kill you?"

"I'm dying Harry."

Green eyes, filled with emotion took in the Headmaster's solemn yet serene expression.

"The curse, the one that the Slytherins think is killing you-"

Dumbledore nodded.

"But you don't seem ill."

"We found a way of delaying the effects of the curse, and for the moment, I am as fit and powerful as I ever was, but it will weaken me irreparably over the coming months, which is why I have felt an urgency to pursue the plan involving your relatives, there is a very limited amount of time wherein I will be at my full strength. And when my time does come I had hoped that Severus would do me the ultimate kindness in ensuring that my death is not drawn out and that my passing can serve an ultimate purpose."

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I had other dreams. Ones that made me think he was working for Voldemort... And then when I legilimised him I saw him begging to be allowed to kill you-"

"I can guarantee that anything you may have seen will have been him playing his role."

"I know. I've messed everything up. Everything I've done has been completely wrong in all of this. I should've told him about the dreams. I should've listened to you. I've mucked up everything because I've been too scared of things coming true, when really it's all so much more complicated than it seemed."

"This wasn't your fault Harry. The premonitions are something that none of us could have anticipated, you weren't to-"

"I should have trusted him," Harry interrupted simply. "But I was too scared all the time, I didn't think..."

"What if there was a way to put things right?"

"He won't listen to me. He hates me. I can't change what I did," Harry slumped forward onto the desk once more.

"Severus-" Dumbledore cut himself, seemingly unable to deny Harry's assessment of the situation.

He paused thoughtfully for a moment."You said that you regretted making decisions so hastily, that you wished you hadn't been guided by fear. What if you could rectify that, and help the order by going back to your relatives for that last time?"

Harry looked up, startled. "It's too late... the others have already left. The Hogwarts express is gone."

"You don't need to travel by the Hogwarts express, you could floo to Arabella Figg's, you were away for half of the last summer, Harry. The Death Eaters probably don't know whether to expect you at all, never mind when."

"You really think I should do this?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I do. Believe me, Harry, I would not ask you to do this if I didn't think it necessary, or if I believed that you would be endangered yourself in doing so."

There was an awkward silence.

"So Harry, will you reconsider?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Harry?"

Giving a defeated shrug, Harry's reply was barely above a whisper, "I suppose."

Dumbledore rose immediately. "Give me a couple hours to rally the order."

"Today?" Harry faltered.

"S "Sooner rather than later is probably for the best," Dumbledore pointed out. "Have you eaten yet?"

Harry shook his head dumbly.

"Why don't you go and have a late breakfast, then join me back here?"

At the vast empty dining table in the Great Hall, Harry toyed with his food. It was ridiculous, he knew, because at his relatives he would no doubt be desperate for a square meal. Numerous times over the past hour he'd considered approaching Severus to apologise once more, but the truth was he was far too apprehensive to speak to him, or to even approach the dungeons. He hadn't even dared to go and fetch his trunk ready to depart.

His legs felt like lead as he made his way slowly back to the Headmaster's office. He knew it hadn't been two hours, but didn't know where else to go.

"Ah Harry," Dumbledore greeted him.

"I haven't got my things, they're all in my dorm..."

The headmaster glanced at his empty hands."No matter, my boy, I really don't anticipate you remaining at your relatives for any great length of time. A hour or two, perhaps overnight at the most."

I'll still need my stuff, it's not like the Dursleys would lend me anything, Harry thought to himself, but he felt too weary to protest. There's no way I can stroll back into Slytherin for my trunk and if Dumbledore's not going to offer to fetch it for me it will just have to stay there.

"Now, I'm sure you remember all about the portkey," Dumbledore said as he passed the watch across to him. "And a coat is easily transfigured."

Wordlessly summoning the cushion from an armchair in the corner of the room, he tapped it with his wand and it twisted before expanding into a heavy winter coat.

"We will just have to wait another hour or so. Why don't you take a seat, while I finish making some preparations?"

Harry curled up in the tall mauve chair besides the fire, still feeling cold despite his new coat. He toyed with the watch strap. Part of him couldn't believe he was actually wearing it now and actually choosing to go back to Privet drive, in spite of everything that had happened before.

Dumbledore seemed to spend most of his time sending somewhat cryptic messages by Patronus.

Occasionally he received messages back, one Patronus in the form of a lynx burst into the room and spoke to the Headmaster in a low growl. "A dozen spread out, as planned. No Bartholodes inside."

Harry turned away resting his head against the back of the chair. Everything was being set in place and there was nothing he could do, all he had to concentrate upon was going back there. And he could do that. He had to.

He was just about managing to keep a grip on his nerves, biting a little on his lower lip when the fire in front of him flared up and McGonagall stepped out.

She glanced briefly and disapprovingly at Harry, before striding straight over to the Headmaster.

"Albus!" she cried. "What on earth are you thinking? You can't really mean to send Harry back there after what took place this summer?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore frowned. "This is unhelpful to say the least, we all appreciate that this situation is less than ideal, it has hardly been a decision that any of us have arrived at lightly."

Her expression softened a little as she looked at Harry, "You want to do this?"

"I'll do what needs to be done," he replied dully.

She span back to Dumbledore.

"And what does Severus say about this?"

"Severus understands that sometimes difficult measures need to be taken."

And all at once, Harry felt horribly deflated and subdued.

Well, what did I expect? Of course Severus agreed to me going back there. I mean, it wasn't as if he was going to burst in here and refuse to allow me to go was it? Not after everything that happened. He's washed his hands of me, he said as much himself when he told me to get out of Slytherin. But somehow the memory of how adamant Severus had been before tore into Harry, he'd said he'd do everything in his power to stop me going back there; that he couldn't bear to do otherwise; but clearly, that was then, this is now.