There's nothing wrong with him. He says it over and over again to Madame Pomfrey as he tries to get out of Snape's office, as she Floos him to the hospital wing. He says it to Hermione and Ron who come to visit, Ron with a ugly look on his face when he asks what Snape did, Hermione with a worried little crease between her eyes as she holds out his school books. He says it again to Madame Pomfrey, who doesn't listen, who puts a stinging antiseptic on his forehead and orders him not to touch it. He's sitting on his bed, not touching his forehead, running his hands nervously along the sheets, when Madam Pomfrey opens the door to return to her office and Dumbledore is standing there, in the doorway.

Harry looks at him and a feeling of relief washes over him. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that moment, how much he was shaking until he feels himself start to calm down, feels his shoulders stop shivering and the feeling come back into his legs. It's all right, now. Dumbledore is here. If there was anything wrong with him, and maybe there was, just maybe, he didn't remember anything being wrong, but maybe there was, and if there was, well, Dumbledore could fix it. No matter what happened, Dumbledore would take care of it, Dumbledore would make it all okay. Dumbledore would remember, he knew it, he would know what had happened because he knew everything, and soon this would be over, would be something he could forget and not care about, something that didn't matter. He watches the man, turns towards him and he feels a smile, one of the first real smiles he's had in ages, creep up on his face.

But Dumbledore just stands there, in the doorway, without even looking at Harry, without meeting Harry in the eye, and suddenly Harry feels his hands start to shake again, and he grabs the sheets to make them stop. It's all right, now. It's going to be all right, because Dumbledore-but he can't finish the thought. Maybe Dumbledore knew. Maybe he had found out and that was why he wouldn't even look at Harry. He was disgusted. He had to be. Harry was disgusting, he could feel it, all of a sudden, like a layer of grime worked over his skin and his hair and his eyes. He didn't remember why, but this was something he knew, deep to his core. Something he had always known, but that he had forgotten. His hands are still trembling, and he wraps his arms around his chest as he watches Madam Pomfrey step into her office, as Dumbledore steps out of the doorway and the door begins to close, and Snape is there too, and his throat goes dry. All he hears before the door closes again is 'What did you see, Severus?' Harry can't tell if he wants the door open so he can listen or if he wants it closed so he won't have to. No matter what he wants, it is closed, and he closes his eyes and drops his head and keeps his arms wrapped around his chest and tries not to think of anything.

There's nothing wrong with him.

000 000 000

"What did you see, Severus?"

The headmaster is straight to business, looking grave. No twinkle, Snape notes idly as he relates the entire sordid ordeal, his desire to humiliate Potter aside. The man's eyes are steely, and after he finishes talking, Dumbledore takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs.

"Nothing ever goes as it should with him, does it?" he asks, his voice tinged with sadness, and Snape wonders what that means. As it should? If life had gone as it should, the boy would be long dead and the Dark Lord would still be alive. Life didn't go as it should for anyone-it just went.

Dumbledore looked at Pomfrey. "Do you have anything in your files that might pertain to this memory? Any suspicious injuries, or-"

Pomfrey looked as though she might slap the old man across the face. "If I had seen anything, I would have reported it immediately! Not only to you, but the appropriate authorities! Do you think I would take note of any suspicious injury of that nature and not report it? Really, Albus!"

He held up a hand. "Of course, Poppy. Of course. I apologize. I suppose I hoped that there would be some other way to answer this." He met Snape's eyes. "When is your next lesson with Harry?"

"You cannot be serious."

"Does the boy remember what the memory contains?"

Poppy shook her head. "From what Severus describes, it sounds like a repeat Obliviate to me. It's been documented that they lose effectiveness after multiple uses. He doesn't seem to be aware of there being anything wrong, not consciously-though he'd worked himself up into a well enough state."

"Then Severus, there's no other option. At your next lesson, you will try to find this memory again. If you can break the Obliviate, good, otherwise put it into my Pensieve and we'll work on unravelling it there."

"I will not do it. You cannot ask this of me."

"Severus-"

"I cannot stand the boy, and he cannot stand me! I am not the one to be prying into his mind for this information!"

"You are the only one capable-"

"You are just as capable, if not more so! You are more skilled than I, in Legilimency, and the boy trusts you-"

"I am not available for this, Severus. For the reasons we discussed."

"You care for the boy, don't you?"

"Of course I do. That is why I will keep my distance. It's not safe-"

"It is not safe for Potter's mental state for me to do it! The boy despised me before tonight, how do you think he feels now? He may not remember what's in that memory, but he knows, somewhere, he knows and his reaction tonight shows exactly why I am the last person that should force my way into his head again!"

"You may take it slow. Go a little at a time-gain his trust. This memory is a wild card. Who knows what it may contain? If it is something the Order must know-"

Snape scowled. "Don't bring the Order into it."

"You respect the needs of the Order more than you respect Harry."

"Which is why I am the wrong person for this job!"

"Nevertheless, you are the only person." Dumbledore's eyes met his, serious in a way that made Snape clam up and glower. "It is you, or no one, Severus."

000 000 000

Harry doesn't realize he is staring at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office until it swings open and Dumbledore, Snape, and Pomfrey exit. Pomfrey is immediately hovering over him, checking his forehead and his temperature-god knows why, he doesn't have a fever-as Dumbledore and Snape converse near her office door, then part ways. Dumbledore is heading for the hallway, and Harry feels it wash over him again, this feeling of griminess that makes him cringe (though that might also be the way Madam Pomfrey is currently poking his forehead).

"Professor Dumbledore?" he says quietly. It's the voice he used when he was younger at the Dursley's, after he'd had a nightmare or during thunderstorms, when he would call, in his softest voice, for Aunt Petunia, even though he knew she couldn't hear him all the way upstairs and that she wouldn't come even if she did. Dumbledore, however, is not upstairs. Dumbledore is just across the room, right by the door, and maybe he will hear, and if he hears, he'll turn around, he'll come-

But he either doesn't hear or doesn't care, because he reaches the door and is out in moments, leaving Harry feeling embarrassed and stupid. It's probably the embarrassment that makes him stop paying attention, which is why when Snape suddenly appears in the corner of his vision, a big black shape too close to him, he flinches.

Madam Pomfrey whips out her wand and taps it smartly in the center of his forehead. Snape isn't scowling at him, just frowning, the way he frowns in class if a Slytherin's potion isn't right, and that makes Harry nervous, a little. Snape's looking at him in the eye, and he remembers what started all this, what brought him here, and it makes him duck his head and squeeze his eyes shut. There is a stillness in the air, and then an impatient sigh.

"Potter." Harry ducks his head further, then opens his eyes. He is staring at his shoes, school shoes, with the shoelace slightly frayed where he fixed it in a hurry after it broke on the way to Defense the other day, the other with a scuff mark on the toe. He doesn't look up, even when Snape says his name again. "Potter!"

"What?" Harry says, and it doesn't come out right, he means for it to come out rude and disrespectful and brave, he wants it to make Snape narrow his eyes and start acting normal again. But it sounds softer than he wants, not rude at all, and for once all he wants is for Snape to call him arrogant and give him a detention-

No. No, not a detention. But points, yes, he wants Snape to take points, he wants Snape to sneer and say he's just like his father, or to make him scrub the Trophy Room floor to ceiling with Filch. Anything but this weird, so neutral that it's almost kind, frightening voice.

Snape doesn't do any of those things. "You're to stay in the Hospital Wing tonight. Madam Pomfrey will release you for classes in the morning, if she deems you fit. At our usual time, we will meet in my office-"

This makes his head snap up so fast it hurts, makes him almost meet Snape's eyes before he remembers and looks away, focuses on Snape's forehead. "What?"

Snape's forehead creases with familiar irritation, but his tone stays the same. "Don't interrupt, Potter. At the usual time, you will report to my office with your mind clear and ready to work, is that understood?"

Alone. Alone in Snape's office, the way he has been a million times, but Snape wasn't acting right and maybe there was something wrong, but he couldn't remember what, so did it matter? It didn't, it didn't, but he still didn't feel right, so maybe it did, but-Snape. Alone in Snape's office. And he could do-

No. No, he's brave. He's in Gryffindor and he's brave and he's smart, and no one can hurt him, they can't, hasn't he proved it a million times before? He's brave. He just has to be brave.

He just hopes he can remember how.