“What happens now?”

“We wait,” Snape replied, glancing at the window to check the position of the moon in the sky. It was nearing its apex.

“Will he be able to tell that I’ve taken it?”

“The Dark Lord will know that something has changed,” Snape conceded as he stoppered the remainder of the mind strengthening potion and set it carefully on the nightstand. “Although I doubt that he will be able to determine the cause of your increased mental resistance.”

“Does that matter?” Harry asked.

Snape settled onto the other single bed in the room, dimming the candles with a wave of his hand. “He will try different methods of attack to test your defenses. In this way, we will learn what we must prepare for and where his weak points are.”

Snape watched as Harry slid beneath the covers, a look of fierce determination on his face.

“Try to sleep, Potter, ” Snape instructed. “It is going to be a long night.”

Harry awoke in a daze as something—no someone—tried to break into his sleep-weary mind. Images and sounds pushed at the edges of his consciousness, attempting to invade his dreams. Something held them off, though, forestalling the inevitable. As he awoke more, he realized that the potion was doing its job; it was holding Voldemort off.

“Professor,” Harry mumbled, vaguely wondering if he’d spoken aloud or not.

“I am here,” a gravelly voice returned.

Harry realized that strong fingers were wrapped around his forearm, the pressure reassuring. Harry relaxed, relieved in the knowledge that he would not have to face Voldemort alone.

“I think it’s working,” Harry managed to get out. “I feel him trying to put thoughts in my mind but they can’t quite get in.”

“That is only partly the potion,” Snape replied. “I am helping to stave off the images to see what other means of attack the Dark Lord will employ.”

Exhausted, Harry felt himself slipping back toward sleep. When Snape did not object, Harry let go, reassured that between Snape and the potion, he was safe.

“Sir,” Harry said as he absently stirred the porridge in his bowl, “About my plan…”

When Snape looked up at him but said nothing, Harry took a breath and continued. “I think we should attack tonight. I think that the longer we wait, the longer he’ll have to prepare a counter attack.”

Snape set down his spoon, steam curling above his half-finished porridge. “You have been taking the potion for less than a week, Potter.”

“But the potion is working,” Harry countered. “And Voldemort knows something has changed. I don’t want him to get a leg up on us.”

“Your impulsiveness and impudence will serve only to get us killed,” Snape scoffed.

Harry bristled at being thus dismissed. Snape raised a hand to forestall further arguments.

 “While the element of surprise will play a role in our success, Potter, we have no chance of defeating the Dark Lord if we are not fully prepared. Like a game of chess, we need to make sure we know which pawns can be sacrificed, and which pieces must be guarded at all cost. We need to think carefully through each and every move. And we need to able to take another path at a moment’s notice should it become necessary.”

Defiance at Snape’s words built inside of Harry, but just as quickly, he felt it slip away. Biting his lower lip, he murmured: “I don’t know how much longer I can fight him.”

“What do you mean?”

“The potion helps but…”

Snape leaned forward, his expression intense. “But what, Potter?”

Harry paused, meeting Snape’s brooding eyes. “Every night it seems to work a little less than the night before...”

Snape pushed to his feet, his hands pressing on the table as he towered over Harry, a vein throbbing in his temple. Harry resisted the urge to push back from the table to put some distance between them.

“And you are first telling me this now?” Snape bellowed.

Harry flinched. “I didn’t think…”

“You never think!” Snape accused. “You assume. Has no one ever told you what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of you and of me.”

Harry grimaced. He knew Snape wouldn’t take his confession well, but he’d hoped that they could battle Voldemort before the potion became too weak. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape had already stalked angrily from the room, curses echoing behind him. Harry guessed that Snape was going to work more on the potion, which meant more days of experimenting and testing the potion before Snape would even consider attacking Voldemort. Harry signed in defeat, rubbing his aching temples as he considered another long day cooped up in the small cottage with little to do.

“I will not lie to you, elf. This could kill you.”

Harry winced at Snape’s words. Dobby’s eyes were wide as saucers, fear reflecting in their depths. Although what Snape said was true, Harry thought the man could have found a way to say it that was less intimidating. The last thing they needed to do was scare Dobby any more than he already was.

“What Snape is trying to say, Dobby,” Harry interjected, meeting Snape’s gaze with a challenge, “is that this could be dangerous. But we have been working really hard to minimize the risks. We will be doing all of the work. We only need your light to counter our darkness in our fight against Volde—” Dobby squeaked at the name, covering his eyes with his gnarled fingers. “Against he-who-must-not-be-named,” Harry finished lamely.

“I is wanting to help, sirs,” Dobby said, his voice quavering as he peered through his fingers. “But I is not knowing how.”

“We will teach you,” Harry said.

“We will do more than teach you,” Snape said, the derision in his voice aimed at Harry. “We will allow you full access to our minds so that you may understand what we are thinking and doing. We will also shield you from the Dark Lord. If all goes as planned, he will never know you are there at all.”

Harry glanced at Snape, wondering how likely it was that Voldemort would not discover Dobby’s presence.

“If you are willing, Dobby, we will begin practicing tonight,” Snape continued. “When Potter goes to sleep, I will take you into his mind. I will explain to you what is needed. Then, you can make your decision.” 

Dobby’s orb-like eyes glimmered in the dim light of the room. “Harry Potter saved Dobby’s life. And Professor Snape is always treating Dobby kindly.” The little elf seemed to stand up straighter, his shoulders squaring. “Dobby will do whatever he can, sirs, to help Harry Potter and Professor Snape.”