By the end of the day Snape’s peculiar behaviour had been driven out of Harry’s mind. This was due to the fact that he had begun to remember things at a faster rate, even if they were a bit fuzzy. Harry was so relieved in fact, that after doing some homework, he was able to relax and play a couple of games of wizard chess with Ron.

Hermione watched with interest as the two boys battled it out, occasionally nagging at Harry to do something about his chronic nightmares. It had been a very bad idea to tell Hermione that he was just sleep deprived as of late; she taken it to heart and was now bothering him to consult Madam Pomfrey. Of course, it didn’t help she had wheedled the little bit of information from Ron that Harry had been talking in his sleep and thrashing about. He didn’t really recall any nightmares, but fuzzy memories of waking up in a cold sweat had surfaced from his foggy brain.

"Harry, you should really see if Madam Pomfrey will give you some Dreamless Sleep Potion, you look terribly tired," she said for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Hermione, I’ll be fine. I’ve always slept badly," he groaned. "Nightmares have plagued me as long as I can remember; it’s no big deal."

"Yes it is!" Hermione fought back. "You haven’t always looked this fatigued Harry, they must be getting worse. Not to mention that you nearly fell asleep while brewing your potion today!"

Harry didn’t respond, but he knew she was right.

"Look mate, maybe you should go to Pomfrey, you do look rough," Ron said nervously.

"You too then?" Harry asked Ron grouchily, and sure enough his friend’s ears turned red as his hair. "Oh all right then, if it makes you two feel better: I’ll go see Pomfrey!"

"Thank you so much Harry," Hermione said. "We can still make it before curfew, if we hurry."

"I take it I don’t have much choice?" sighed Harry.

"Not really mate," Ron said, getting up.

They were about to leave when Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl, swooped through the window and started screeching excitedly while zooming about the common room.

"Blasted bird, has to show off," Ron muttered as the occupants of the room pointed at the feathery rocket. "You guys go ahead; I’ll be busy with Pig."

"Okay, see you," Harry said gloomily.

They walked quickly, and arrived at the hospital wing in good time. With a sigh Harry knocked on the door, and waited for it to be opened.

"You didn’t need to come you know," Harry told Hermione, but not impolitely.

"Harry, don’t be daft. We all know you would have gone off to do something else," Hermione said.

Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well. I’ve spent enough time here already."

"Yes?" drawled a voice as the door creaked open.

"Erm, hello Professor Snape. Where’s Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see around Snape.

"She is away on business tonight Potter," Snape replied tonelessly. "I am in charge of the Hospital wing right now."

"What do you know about healing?" Harry blurted out, accidentally coming across as rather rude. Hermione frantically pretended to be interested in a painting nearby.

"Potion making and healing go hand in hand you imbecile," said Snape icily.

"Oh, right."

"What is it that you need Potter?" Snape inquired. "A headache draft to counter the effects of all those screaming fans?"

Harry clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. The latter of course made it hard to talk, so thankfully Hermione came to his rescue.

"He was hoping for a bit of Dreamless Sleep Potion sir."

"Is this true?" Snape asked Harry, who nodded in confirmation. "Come in then."

Harry and Hermione followed Professor Snape into the hospital wing, which was empty at the moment. They were told to stay by the door while Snape retreated into a store-room, returning within a few moments holding a small crystal phial of blue liquid.

"Take the entire dose before bed Potter. Don’t mix it with anything and don’t you dare drug anyone," Snape told him dryly, handing the phial to Harry, who slipped it in his pocket.

"Yes sir. Thank you," Harry said quietly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his Professor’s lack of confidence in him.

"And Mr. Potter," Snape called after Harry as he made to follow Hermione, who had just slipped out the door and was now out of earshot.

"I don’t think it’s going to help in your case," the Professor said, almost too softly to hear.

"Wait, what do you mea-" Harry began, but was cut off by a bit of a commotion.

A shaky first year limped through the doorway with the help of a prefect. The girl was as white as a ghost and looked as if she would faint.

"Sir, she tripped down the marble staircase, I think it’s broken," the Prefect said, gesturing to the girl’s ankle.

Snape rushed to the scene and hoisted the first year into his arms, carrying her to a bed. Harry took a moment to marvel at his Professor’s reaction time, it was almost as if he’d done this all his life. Shaking his head, Harry turned his back on the situation behind him and walked out the door, where Hermione was waiting for him.

"That poor girl, I hope she gets better soon …" Hermione muttered. Harry did not respond. "Are you alright Harry?"

"Oh, fine I guess. It’s just that Snape mentioned something odd. He said that he didn’t think the potion would help in 'my case'."

"Strange, you didn’t talk about your dreams at all …" she answered as they swiftly navigated the corridors.

"Strange is right-" Harry agreed, letting his real concerns remain silent. –mainly since I can’t even remember what I’ve been dreaming about.

When Harry woke up he found that Professor Snape had been completely right. Not only did the potion not stop him from dreaming, it appeared to have helped his dreams to stick in his mind better than the previous night. Though still, he could only remember one thing about the dream that had robbed his sleep: the feeling of being paralyzed, unable to move as people did around him. Harry was almost certain that the dream had been the same one as before, and oddly enough it seemed to be the only dream Harry had had at all.

Harry had intended to go see Professor Snape right away about his advice on the potion, but was distracted by a rather interesting sight in the corridors; half the student population’s hair had turned neon pink. Pranks these days were a regular occurance, seeing as people were still trying to establish themselves as lead pranksters of Hogwarts, now that Fred and George were gone. When Harry asked Ron about it, wondering who did it, Ron replied that everyone who had drank orange juice that morning was the victim of a mass prank orchestrated by a couple of seventh year Ravenclaws. Though it was well known to many students who the culprits were, the teachers hadn’t a clue who did it.

While Harry found that Draco Malfoy looked the funniest, Ron thought that pink hair looked the most amusing on Hermione, mainly because of the scowl she wore with it. However, after Defence Against the Dark Arts, both Ron and Harry agreed Professor Snape took the cake; he had looked extremely bitter about his inability to find an antidote, making Harry wonder why he even bothered to come to class rather than lurk in the dungeons until it wore off. Fortunately Harry had refrained from telling the Professor that not only had the prank done wonders for his hair colour, but for the grease as well. After all, he still needed to ask that question.

"Er, Professor?" Harry inquired rather nervously once the classroom was empty, hoping Snape wouldn’t snap at him.

"Yes Potter?" he growled, clearly miffed about his change of hair color.

"I was just wondering, why did you say that the Dreamless Sleep Potion probably wouldn’t work for me?"

"Because the dreams you have been having aren’t the usual kind," he replied simply. "Now, I do believe you have a class to go to."

"Yeah I do, but sir, how do you know that about my dreams? And if they aren’t the normal kind what are they?"

"For the love of Merlin …" Snape muttered, rolling his eyes. "If you’re so keen to know why, come down to my office at six-o-clock!"

"Ok, I’ll be there sir," Harry said gratefully before dashing off to Potions class. "And thank you!"

Severus Snape rolled his eyes once more. Though he was glad someone thought to thank him; even if it was Potter.

***

At five to six Harry arrived, waiting anxiously to hear what Snape had to say. Harry had to know, was he going crazy? Was he really just hallucinating and hadn’t had those dreams at all? Idea after idea swirled about his head, each making less sense than the last. Harry only stopped going over the possibilities when Snape opened the door.

"Come in Mr. Potter," Snape said, hair black once more and motioning for Harry to enter and sit down. There Harry patiently sat, mind ready for the explanation. Snape remained silent.

"Sir, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I just go," Harry sighed.

"Oh yes, in due time. But I was wondering if you would like to tell me what you think is going on," Snape said evasively, narrowing his eyes at the boy who sat across from him.

"Well, if my dreams aren’t normal dreams … then only sensible thing I can think of is that they are some sort of vision. From Voldemort maybe?" Harry replied slowly.

"Not quite Mr. Potter. Tell me, have you been having trouble remembering anything as of late?" Snape said.

"I don’t see why that has anything to do with this Prof-"

"It has everything to do with it," Snape interrupted sharply, getting up to pace behind his desk.

"Sir?" Harry inquired, wondering what on earth Snape meant.

"Have you been having trouble remembering things lately? And if so, what sorts of things?" Snape repeated, this time elaborating a bit.

Harry hesitated a moment, but after receiving a frightening look from Snape, began. "I woke up in Transfiguration class the day before yesterday and I didn’t remember how I got there or anything that had happened this year."

"Anything else?" inquired the Professor calmly. It appeared that he had been expecting Harry’s answer. Which only further confused Harry. What did Snape know?

"At first I forgot that you taught Defence Against the Dark Arts; though I did remember eventually. Actually a lot of things have started to come back, even if they’re fuzzy."

"And why, Mr. Potter, do you think you are having this trouble with your memory?"

"Er, head injury?"

"That would not surprise me."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Harry said sarcastically, thinking that his professor was making fun of him. Snape didn’t hear him.

"Potter, I would like you, over the next couple days, to observe your surroundings. You will be looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything at all," Snape told him, looking thoughtful. "And notify me immediately of your findings."

"Yes sir," Harry said slowly, rather confused.

"You may go now, I have work to do."

"But sir, you haven’t answered my original question! What’s going on?" Harry asked Snape angrily as he was shooed out the door.

"I’m afraid this is one of those things you have to find out for yourself, Mr. Potter," Snape sighed.

There it was again, that look again. That same mixture of pity and regret that had Snape had bestowed on Harry earlier. And this time, Harry was sure of what he had seen.

He turned his back on Snape and strode out into the corridor. With a glance to recently closed door Harry leaned against the cold dungeon wall, letting himself slide to the floor, wondering. Not knowing that on the other side of the stone, Severus Snape did the same.

"How can I do this Lily?" questioned the Professor quietly, unaware of the fact that Harry could hear him through the crack beneath the door. "How can I save him this time?"