Harry didn't want to return to class. Ever. Of all the things that had happened to make others gawk at him, to whisper as he passed, the boy simply could not imagine anything capable of surpassing his embarrassment at having fainted. In front of the entire school. And a portion of two others.

Not to mention all the other spectators.

Indeed, his little episode – which was largely due to lack of sleep, as the rumor said – had been splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet. The Second Task was reported on page two. Sometimes, he really, really hated being the Boy-Who-Lived. Somehow, he managed to survive the rest of the week, however, and a majority of the teasing died down shortly thereafter.

Through the magical window in his room, a hedge maze could be seen growing on the Quidditch Pitch. Clearly, the Third Task would require the champions to make their way to the center of it. Harry was once more glad that he didn't have take part in the Tournament, particularly since he had heard Hagrid mention something about making arrangements with the acromantulas.

Harry himself found that he was becoming more and more tired – so much so, that his other teachers were beginning to take notice. The trembling in his hands had become so bad, that he was no longer able to write legibly. Snape had helped him charm a few of his favorite quills to write as he dictated, allowing him to complete his homework in the evenings.

The teen also began to suffer from infrequent aches all over his body, which no amount of adjustment to his antagonist was able to alleviate. Snape had managed to complete two more possible antidotes. Harry didn't have an adverse reaction to either of them. He didn't have a positive reaction to them, either.

It was without any further public episodes that the day of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament arrived.

Harry was frantic.

The teen hurried through the corridors as quickly as he dared. Where was it? He knew he had it the day before and was certain he'd had it that morning at breakfast, but now he couldn't find it. Snape would kill him. Okay, probably not kill him, but the professor would definitely be very upset Harry had lost his pendant.

Where could he have dropped it? He didn't remember taking it off, anywhere... Upon reaching Snape's quarters, Harry practically ran through the door – and right into the Potions Master himself.

"Harry!" Snape took him by the shoulders to steady him. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Sir," Harry panted.

"Then, why are you out of breath?" the man demanded, placing a palm against the boy's forehead. "And your temperature elevated? Or is that due to you rushing about?"

Harry ducked away from Snape's hand. "I forgot something," he replied, still trying to catch his breath, "in my room. And you said my temperature's almost always elevated."

"Which is one of the many reasons I specifically cautioned you against overexerting yourself," Snape severely informed him. "I'm still not convinced letting you take your exams was the best idea, you certainly don't need to be running about."

"Sir, I'm fine," the boy protested wearily.

"You are not 'fine', you're..." Severus trailed off. Anyone who took the time to compare how the boy looked at the beginning of the year to his present appearance would immediately notice how sickly he looked. Harry's face was pale with shadows under green eyes that were a little too bright. He was far too thin – even for him – and at times it seemed he had difficulty remaining upright. He didn't sleep, could hardly eat, and (at the moment) was still trying to catch his breath.

Nobody who didn't already know of Harry's condition seemed to notice anything amiss, apart from his fatigue. The changes had been so gradual that they'd been brushed off as something else. What struck Snape the most, however, was that, had he not been watching for them, he might not have noticed the changes, either.

The antagonist was quickly losing its effectiveness, the time it had bought dwindling away. Severus had the unsettling thought the he was, in fact, watching Harry Potter slowly die. Somehow, the prospect had been easier to bear when the only reason he had to care for the boy was because he belonged to Lily.

"The headmaster has insisted you be allowed to attend the final task this evening," he informed the teen. "I have another antidote for you to try, but we will wait to test it until first thing tomorrow."

"Oh," said Harry a bit glumly. "I almost don't want to take it."

"Why would you say that?" Snape demanded, feeling mildly alarmed.

"Well, what if it doesn't work?" the boy asked quietly.

"Then I'll make another," the Potions Master immediately replied. He felt no need to mention that the latest antidote was the one he felt the least confidence in.

"... Would you have time to make another?"

The grip Snape still had on Harry's shoulder tightened minutely.

"I dunno..." Harry continued after a few seconds. "Maybe it'd be better if –"

"I will not give up, Harry," Snape declared. "First thing tomorrow, you will try the new antidote. If that one doesn't work, I will make another, and if necessary, another, until... I won't give up."

Harry looked up at the man, realizing how much the professor must truly care for him to commit himself to such seemingly futile efforts. After all, Severus Snape didn't waste his time on useless things.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his tone more confident that he felt. He managed a rather wan smile. Snape gave his shoulder a final squeeze and patted the side of his head before heading out the door. Harry hastened to his room. He had to find that necklace – it was the only thing the professor had even gotten him.

0o0o0

It was about time for the final task to begin and Harry still couldn't find his pendant. He was supposed to meet Hermione and Ron at the exit leading out to the Quidditch Pitch but he had found no trace of the missing piece of jewelry.

"Hana!" Harry called in a sudden moment of inspiration.

"Master Harry is needing Hana?" the elf asked a split-second after she appeared.

"I can't find the pendant Professor Snape gave me," the teen explained. "Do you think you could help me find it?"

"Master Harry is not supposed to be without it!" Hana scolded.

"I know that. That's why I need your help finding it again. Could you just look for me, please?"

"Hana will do her best." The elf blinked out of sight, and Harry continued on his way, retracing his steps from the day before. He had just stepped outside, resigned to the possibility of having to confess his negligence to his Potions professor, when an owl came swooping towards him.

"Thanks," Harry said, accepting the envelope the owl carried in its beak. Hooting, the bird wended its way back towards the owlry. His name was blazoned across the front of the envelope and he could feel a small, round object through the paper. He was relieved when he opened it to see his pendant on its chain.

Turning the envelope over, he dumped the necklace into his hand, only to feel an all-too-familiar pull behind his navel.

0o0o0

Snape had an uneasy feeling – and it wasn't entirely unrelated to the mark on his arm, which had been growing darker all year. Something wasn't right. He again tried to locate Harry sitting amidst his housemates but he wasn't able to make out much in the growing darkness.

Absently rubbing his forearm, the man returned to his thoughts as all around him spectators cheered for their respective champions.

0o0o0

Harry looked on in horror as Lord Voldemort stepped from the enormous cauldron. 'No! No, no, no!' His mind screamed. He struggled futilely against the bonds holding him to the tombstone. Calm, he had to calm himself. If he lost his head, now, he would never get out of this mess.

'Breathe, Harry! C'mon breathe,' he thought desperately.

Voldemort pressed a long, spidery finger against the brand on Wormtail's arm. "Now, we shall see," he murmured contemplatively.

Harry thought he'd really rather not.

0o0o0

"Master Potions Master Professor sir!" Hana shrilled frantically, appearing at the Potions Master's side. The elf took hold of his arm and abruptly disapparated with him to the Entrance Hall.

"In Merlin's name, Hana," Severus exclaimed, "what –"

"Master Harry is missing! Hana is not finding him anywhere!" she wailed.

"What do you mean, he's missing?" the wizard demanded.

"Master Harry isn't anywhere in Hogwarts – Hana has looked and looked for him," Hana sobbed. "Hana was asked to be helping Master Harry find his pendant, but when Hana is finally tracking it, it isn't being in the castle anymore, then Hana went to tell Master Harry, but Master Harry is being gone, too!"

"The boy couldn't have simply disappeared," Snape stated with far greater calm than he felt. "There has to be..." He broke off as his left forearm burst into pain. "No!" he hissed.

"Potions Master?" Hana looked up at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Hana, I need you to fetch the headmaster, immediately." The elf nodded, vanishing with a pop. Severus pulled back his left sleeve to look at the writhing, inky black brand upon his arm. He thought he knew just where Harry might have disappeared to and he didn't like the idea. Not a single, solitary bit.

0o0o0

Harry crouched behind the headstone, gasping in pain. His hands were trembling almost uncontrollably, though, he couldn't say if it was due to the poison or the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Death Eaters laughed as Voldemort mocked him in a cold, cruel voice.

He was going to die. The strange thing was that he had known for nearly the entire school year that he was going to die, knew for certain that without an antidote he wouldn't survive even a significant portion of the summer, yet, he still wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to die.

He still hadn't told his best friends all his secrets, about his life before Hogwarts and how horrible the Dursleys truly were. He'd wanted to do that. And Harry never had figured out how to tell Sirius he was dying. He'd meant to do that – the man really seemed to care for him. Furthermore, he had yet to even decide what he might want to do with his life, what sort of goal he would set for himself. He'd never get to do that, now. Worst of all, he'd never gotten to tell Professor Snape "thank you," never told the man how much his concern had meant the last several months, that he hoped that some small part of the man could remember him kindly once he was gone.

There was so much he still wanted to do and that which he could have done in his remaining time was being stripped away by an ugly, black-hearted man who considered murdering a teenage boy a way to show his so-called power. The coward! Harry would not cooperate. If he had to die, he would not do so cowering behind a tombstone as he was watched by a bunch of fanatics like some animal on display at the zoo.

Gathering the dredges of his waning strength, Harry rose to his feet, whirling to face the creature that had killed his parents, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. Voldemort was waiting.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, even as Voldemort malevolently hissed, "Avada Kedavra!"

0o0o0

"Albus," Severus argued furiously, "if I were to go and Harry's still alive, I could –"

"Get both of you killed trying to rescue him," Dumbledore cut in. "You are not thinking clearly, my boy. If Voldemort has truly returned – which I've no doubt that he has – it is of utmost importance that you convince him that you are eager to reprise your role as spy for him."

"But Harry –"

"Is already dying," Albus gently reminded, looking as though he thoroughly hated himself for speaking the words. It was likely that he did.

Severus turned away from his mentor and friend. He was unable to look the man in the face, not only because he'd just implied that Harry might be an unavoidable sacrifice, but also because he knew his horror at the prospect would show on his face. Even if Harry did escape from Voldemort alive, the stress of such an encounter could easily be too much for his system to handle.

"Harry..."

0o0o0

Harry's vision was going gray, his entire body shaking so badly, it felt like his bones were rattling. He couldn't say how he summoned the willpower to remain conscious, but he rather suspected adrenalin and the shock of seeing his parents emerge from the end of Voldemort's wand were contributing factors.

"When the connection is broken, you must get the portkey!" his father whispered urgently.

"We can only remain for a moment," added his mother, "so you must hurry. Keep fighting, Harry – we love you." Harry nodded his understanding, even as his vision dimmed further.

"Now, Harry," James told him, "do it now!" The teen wrenched his wand up and back, breaking its connection with Voldemort's. Turning, he ran as fast he could, pushing his way pass two shocked death eaters.

"Stun him!" Voldemort roared.

Harry stumbled and sprawled across the ground. "Accio pendant!" he gasped, pointing his wand towards the spot where he'd arrived. He was unaware of whether the pendant reached him or not, however, for just then, everything went black.