Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry smelled the blood in the air as he drifted in and out of his drunken state. Nightmares and reality melded together, which made him rather confused as to what was actually real. On the one hand, he felt like he was safe in his and Ron's rooms. However, he kept smelling blood and death. Both of which he knew weren't in the rooms. He heard distant screams, but he knew no one was screaming. He was stuck in his waking nightmare.

No one was in the room anymore. Harry guessed Sirius had asked Ron to room with his brothers for the night so Harry would sleep undisturbed. However, nobody had counted on his nightmares flaring up. Tears streaked his cheeks as the nonexistent screams and blood became more prominent in his head. He wished someone would stop the voices, but Snape wasn't back yet. Harry knew Sirius wouldn't understand. The only person who would wasn't back yet. He muffled his cries of agony as he felt the harsh burning feeling of an imaginary Cruciatus. The excruciating pain lasted for nearly a minute before Harry's body relaxed again.

Using every bit of strength he had left, Harry tried to focus on the room. He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to hear anymore of his terrible nightmares. He tried a couple of the exercises the Occlumency book suggested. He first tried a breathing one, but it didn't work. It only made him more nauseous as the thick smell of blood surrounded him. His breathing quickened instantly. He then tried to think of happy memories, but the memories swiftly turned into vivid images of what he smelled and heard. He was losing the battle.

For a few moments, Harry snapped out of his nightmare as he heard familiar muttering from further down the hallway. Snape was back. The man didn't sound too happy, but Harry didn't care. So far, Snape was the only one who could get him out of this state. In other words, he knew that if he reached Snape, the blood, the screaming, the pain, the fear, the cold, the sense of death would be gone. Drawing in a deep breath of the acrid air, Harry rolled himself over. He immediately groaned at the sharp pain he felt after hitting the floor. The pain helped clear his mind for a few seconds, though. It was all he needed before he stood up and ran as fast as he could after the man.

However, in his drunken state, that took some finesse to accomplish for Harry. The floor kept moving as did the objects in the room on him. To Harry, every step he took towards Snape's rooms felt like it was the equivalent of a mile. Nearly ten minutes later, he finally reached Snape's rooms. The man wasn't anywhere in sight, though. He had to bite back the urge to groan loudly. He wasn't that lucky.

Harry glanced around the rooms. He noticed the muddy boots by the bed so Snape was back. He wasn't hallucinating that, unlike the piercing screams. His eyes then caught a light shining from underneath a door. Snape, Harry loudly exclaimed in his head. In his current state, he didn't think before reacting. He immediately leapt towards the door handle and opened it.

Within seconds after stepping into the well-lit room, Harry fell flat on his back. He heard himself loudly cry out as he hit the white tiled floor. The warm air surrounded him as the screams in his mind increased dramatically. To his right, he heard a sound of something snapping open. It sounded like it was in the distance. When in all actuality, it was just a few inches from his head. However, the screams and voices in his head drowned everything out. They were all screaming for him to help, but he knew he couldn't. There were too many of them screaming at him. He couldn't focus on reality. He was losing himself to the screams, and he knew it.

Focus on me, a firm voice spoke in Harry's mind, seconds later. Ignore them, and listen to me, Harry. Focus on the sound of my voice. The subsequent screams and voices started to soften. You are safe. You are at Grimmauld Place. They cannot hurt you. In response, several screams pierced the darkness of his mind.

"Please…" Harry whimpered as he curled himself inwards on the floor. It took a few minutes before a soft touch registered in his mind. Someone was trying to comfort him, but the screams were still winning. "Make…make them…them stop, Snape," he moaned while he heard the screams and voices in his head repeat that it was his fault they were dead. He opened his eyes to escape the faces of people he knew and people he didn't know. However, they were still there. Their cold unforgiving eyes stared deep into his soul. Harry's heart then lurched at the hallucination of his parents standing across from him staring at him with the same look on their face as the others. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry."