"What do you mean, Hermione is probably right?" Ron demanded. "You're not really going to Flitwick. Not when the charm is just getting good!"

Harry frowned, conflict clearly stamped across his features. "I just think she's right about getting a … a professional opinion," he said at last. "This might have gotten … a bit out of control."

"What d'you mean?"

The boys were making their way toward the Potions dungeon.

Sighing, Harry tried to explain. "I just wanted to make Sn – HIM nervous. Freak him out a bit. Like, make him feel like someone was always watching him. Something he couldn't get away from. I wasn't sure that the Juvenile Compulsion Guilt Charm would be powerful enough – this is HIM, after all. He might just shrug it off. So I added the Incremental Accentuation, and now I'm wondering if that might be too much. You didn't see him close up, Ron. Not in that class. This is way beyond constantly feeling nervous and guilty and paranoid. He's looking … devastated. Or something close. That's why I want to speak to Flitwick."

Ron made sure he wouldn't be overheard, then said, "But this is SNAPE. The Greasy Git of the Dungeons. He deserves whatever you can throw at him, mate. Think of everything he's ever done to you. Don't go soft now!"

Harry shook his head. "It's not a matter of going soft, Ron. I just don't want to think I'm turning out as bad as – " He cut himself off, remembering just in time that Ron could never know what Harry had seen in Snape's Pensieve in Fifth Year. But that image of James Potter had never wandered far from the forefront of Harry's mind. "I just want Flitwick's opinion. That's all."

Clearly, Ron didn't understand. But the redhead just shrugged. "It's your project, Harry. So I guess it's your decision."

Nodding, Harry led the way into Slughorn's class. "I'll talk to him before supper."

-:- -:- -:-

From the Gryffindor table, Harry noticed Filius Flitwick keeping a discreet eye on Snape throughout the evening meal. Several times, the Charms professor's bushy eyebrows jerked as he watched the seemingly involuntary spasms that caused Snape to quiver or flinch whenever a particularly loud or sharp noise erupted amidst the dinner hubbub in the Great Hall. Quite out of character for the tall man, as Flitwick well knew. But given what Harry had witnessed in last night's detention and today's class, Snape seemed to be exerting an extreme control over his reactions as a whole.

The Defense teacher didn't wait until the end of supper before he whisked his ebony robes out a side door near the Head Table. A few moments later, Flitwick nodded for Harry to follow along as he led the way to a secluded alcove in the opposite direction from Snape's exit. The tiny professor wasted no time in delivering his assessment.

"Mr. Potter, I can tell that Severus is not quite himself, jumping at noises and such. But I see nothing extreme in his outward behavior. Therefore, I see no reason why your Haunting Charm would need to be Finited at this time. I'd say to let the Charm run its course as planned, and I will request a detailed accounting of the … symptoms … and any other side effects which Severus may have experienced while under its influence. From what I've seen – not just now at supper, but ever since you cast the Charm – I'd have to surmise that your Charm seems to be enjoying a certain success." Flitwick patted Harry on the elbow, which was about as high as he could comfortably reach, and hurried away, leaving Harry staring after him.

-:- -:- -:-

"'Enjoying a certain success'?" Hermione frowned at him. "That's ALL he said?"

Harry shrugged. "I told him everything before supper, Hermione. I even brought up the Death Eater angle," he said in a very low voice, "but he didn't seem overly concerned. The way I'd described the incidents I'd witnessed, I know he was expecting Snape to be on the verge of a screaming fit or something, but all Snape did during supper was flinch at loud noises. I don't get it. Do you think the Charm is beginning to wear off early?"

Ron cut in. "I don't know about the Charm, but you two had better get to detention. It's almost seven o'clock."

"Right," agreed Harry. "Meet you in the library after, Ron."

He and Hermione grabbed their bags and sped off toward the Defense classroom.

-:- -:- -:-

Snape idly rolled his teak wand between his fingers as he waited for the Gryffindor pair to put in an appearance. The classroom lay quiet around him, although his thoughts remained in a turmoil

It had happened again. At approximately the same time as yesterday during his Sixth Year class. Today, however, the burst of terror had nearly overwhelmed him during his Fourth Year Raven-Puff class, as he'd long ago scathingly dubbed that combination of students. And today's attack had been the longest, strongest yet. At least Potter hadn't been there to gloat over his sudden loss of composure. Although, Weasley's unexpected appearance in the corridor afterward had seemed undeniably odd. Not to mention, the redhead's ramblings about the Halloween Feast, ghosts, black cats, and hauntings.

For the remaining hours sandwiched between that bizarre encounter and suppertime in the Great Hall, Snape had considered the strangest idea. Haunting. He didn't really believe in it, not in the superstitious way mindless Muggles did. Ghosts were a reality to him. But this oppressive, never-ending, ever-increasing sensation of paranoia which seemed to feed off his growing personal fear of the unknown – somehow, this phenomenon had caused him to reflect on many of the things in his past. Things that he'd long ago accepted that he could never change. Mistakes, poor judgment, actual crimes, and especially Lily Evans. Potter.

He'd brought Death to Lily's door, killing the only true friend he'd known during his youth. He'd left her son orphaned, to be raised in an abusive home, the knowledge of which would have torn Lily's gentle heart asunder.

And that brought him to thoughts of Harry Potter himself. WHY had the Gryffindor and his little friends kept staring up at him as he tried to eat at the Head Table? He'd had to leave before dessert had been served, just to escape their incessant scrutiny. And then there was Filius Flitwick, who had also kept staring over at him, almost as if Snape had spinach stuck in his teeth, but hesitated to say so.

Snape shook his head. Spinach? He tried to regain his focus. He needed to think about why he suddenly seemed suffused with guilt… Well over a decade ago, Severus Snape had learned to squelch his guilt through Occluding, but the unprecedented experiences of the past two days had proved Occlumency useless against these new waves of guilt and fear. No matter how hard he Occluded, he could not halt the tide of culpability resulting from his past actions as it washed inexorably and repeatedly against the shores of his psyche. WAS he finally cracking up? If his Occlumency failed completely, he would be useless as a spy against the Dark Lord, but he could not yet tell whether this surfeit of uncontrollable emotion was a new, permanent state, or if it might be only a temporary aberration.

He'd actually had to down a Calming Draught following this afternoon's incident, and its effects had nearly worn off by the time he'd struggled to make it through the evening meal. Hearing footsteps tapping along the corridor, accompanied by Granger's bossy voice, he quickly whipped out a new vial of Calming Draught and gulped it down. Ordinarily, he'd never consider such a foolish action before dueling practice, but Potter's inability to cast non-verbally virtually nullified any risk to Snape.

The soothing sensation oozed over him just as Potter and Granger entered the room, and for a moment Snape felt almost mellow enough to return their tentative greetings pleasantly. He forced himself to growl "Lines" to Granger and "Here" as he beckoned to Potter. Before Granger could even uncap her inkpot, Potter had suffered his first disarming of the night.

"Again, Potter." And Potter cast silently, only to end up on the floor.

Perhaps it was due to the Calming Draught, but Snape's mind tracked separately for his thoughts and his body, considering the concept of haunting even as his wand routinely flicked one Expelliarmus after another. Blast Weasley anyway, for planting the idea in his mind. Haunting, as he knew it, was highly improbable. But the more Snape thought about it, the more he began to wonder if a person could genuinely be "haunted" by an unseen entity, as Muggles believed. If given a choice between being haunted and cracking up, he'd almost prefer to be haunted, he decided rhetorically, especially if cracking up meant that he'd end up in St. Mungo's with Gilderoy Lockhart as a wardmate.

"Professor?"

"Hmm?" Snape heard himself murmuring the bland response and mentally kicked himself for indulging in that dose of Calming Draught. "WHAT, Potter?" He threw in a glare for good measure. Or tried to. He could feel his lips twitching as he fought down an absurd chuckle.

"Sir, do you need to sit down?" Potter asked, with what appeared to be genuine concern.

Knowing Potter, it probably WAS genuine, in spite of all the abuse Snape had heaped upon him for more than five years. Potter was like that, he knew, very like his mother, who could forgive anything. No. Almost anything. Some things were unforgivable. Snape clenched his teeth, holding back the urge to … to CRY. MERLIN! He WAS cracking up. Becoming unhinged. His thoughts had become more and more disjointed since he'd left the Great Hall, losing focus, drifting from topic to topic… And he suddenly realized that Potter was still standing there, awaiting an answer, while Granger looked on from behind the latest installment of her five thousand lines.

Glancing at the wall clock, Snape felt a shock jolt through him. Detention had begun at seven o'clock, as usual, and it was now nearly a quarter of eight. How LONG had he been … "zoned out" … as Potter had described it yesterday? He couldn't remember much beyond the first few minutes of this detention.

"Professor?" Potter again. Looking back at him through Lily's eyes.

Snape had opened his mouth to snarl at Potter's concern when a wave of relentless horror and guilt swallowed him whole. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath under its suffocating weight. Not even aware that he'd sagged to his knees, he tried to make sense of the fact that the stone floor seemed so close at hand. Was this what Flitwick saw as he traipsed along the stone corridors of the castle? From far away, he heard shouts of "Professor Snape!" and "Sir! Sir!", and he could only presume that he must have finally lost all control in front of those insufferable Gryffindors. Bloody HELL, what was WRONG with him? And WHY did it keep happening during detention? Potter's detentions, no less. If not for the fact that the attacks had also occurred well outside of Potter's presence, Snape WOULD have blamed him…

Realizing at last that he was on his hands and knees on the classroom floor, Snape lashed out, batting away intrusive hands that obviously belonged to Potter and Granger. "OUT!" he roared. "GET OUT! GO! NOW!"

Abandoning their school bags, Harry and Hermione ran for the door to the corridor, and in the second after the heavy oak slammed behind them, they heard a howl of anguish filter through the thick barrier. Hearts pounding, they stared at each other for a few sickening seconds before Hermione grabbed Harry's clammy hand. "Come on, Harry!" she urged. "We have to find Professor Flitwick! This is – this is – "

They ran for Ravenclaw Tower.

-:- -:- -:-

"Luna told us Flitwick had gone into Hogsmeade for the evening," Harry explained to Ron, "so we ended up telling Dumbledore everything. I told him he HAD to Finite the Haunting Charm. It'd gone too far. He said he'd check on Snape, but all we know is that our bags were returned to our dorms without any further news."

"So we have no idea what's happening now," Hermione sighed.

"Wicked!"

"Ronald!"

"I just meant – "

"Shut up, Ron."

"Right. Sorry." Despite the terse apology, Ron still looked as though someone had just burst his balloon.

Harry looked at both of them. "I CAN tell you something about tonight's detention," he said as they leaned in to listen to his whisper. "I smelled Calming Draught on Snape's breath. Seriously."

"Oh, Harry, are you sure?" Hermione whispered back, looking floored.

He nodded. "That time he leaned over to yank me up – I could really smell it. No question. It was definitely Calming Draught."

"The old Haunting Charm must really be getting to him, eh!"

"Ronald!"

Harry sighed. "Dumbledore probably decided to Finite the Charm, but maybe Flitwick will give me partial credit, even it if turned out to be far too potent. At least I demonstrated that I could create a working Charm, which is more than I'd expected for a first attempt."

His friends eyed him curiously.

"You mean you thought it would FAIL?" Ron asked at last.

Harry nodded glumly. "Yeah. Because – well, I'm me, and Snape is Snape." He knew they'd understand what he meant.

Hermione smiled gently and put her hand on his arm. "But I had every confidence in you, Harry. You did the research, you learned the theory behind each element, and you practiced like crazy before you ever tried casting it on Snape." She squeezed his arm. "This is truly the most impressive effort I've ever seen you put forth on any assignment. So, even if it went a bit overboard – well done."

Harry couldn't help cracking a smile. "Thanks, 'Mione. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Cheer up, mate. Tomorrow is Halloween!"

-:- -:- -:-

Although he believed that Dumbledore must have Finited the Haunting Charm, Harry's concern for Snape led him to conceal himself under the Invisibility Cloak and head for the dungeons at first light on Halloween morning. He knew that Snape taught a Second Year Slyth-Gryff class right after breakfast. Harry had planned to hang out in the dungeon corridor near Snape's office, hoping to spot the man on his way to class. Instead, he saw the Defense teacher entering the main doors of the castle, as if he'd gone for an early morning walk in the fresh air.

Snape looked ghastly. Absolutely ghastly. Pale face deeply lined with fatigue, dark eyes bleary and bloodshot, hands literally quaking like aspen leaves as he pushed the tall door closed – the man appeared ready to collapse. Harry squelched his initial instinct to go to Snape and offer him assistance, since curfew wouldn't officially lift for another half hour. But he trailed after him as Snape made an unsteady descent to the dungeons and disappeared into his private quarters.

To Harry's shock, however, Snape appeared perfectly normal in appearance and demeanor when he stalked into Sixth Year Double Defense directly after lunch. In fact, the man looked more physically normal than he had yesterday. "Glamours," he whispered to Ron and Hermione. "He's got to be wearing glamours. There's no way he could have improved his appearance that drastically that fast. Not naturally."

"He probably took something like Pepper-Up Potion, or maybe Strengthening Solution, too," Hermione murmured. She bit her lip. "Do you really think Dumbledore…"

"Only one way to tell," Harry whispered back. "We'll know at 1:45."

"But surely…" Hermione sounded painfully conflicted between her confidence and doubt in Dumbledore. "Wouldn't Dumbledore have told us that he had? IF he did, that is?"

Harry could only shrug as Snape called the class to order.

-:- -:- -:-

Silently, Snape prayed to make it through the entire double class without an incident. His two morning single classes had gone well, but he had felt so weakened by the attack in his quarters before breakfast that he could barely take solace in that fact. Besides, if it happened this afternoon with the Sixth Years, it would confirm a pattern in the attacks. At least he'd have a second opinion on the matter. If it happened. He looked at the clock on the wall of the Defense classroom.

-:- -:- -:-

"He's been watching the clock," Harry scribbled on a scrap of parchment, sliding it over to Ron, who passed it on to Hermione.

"He knows something is up," Ron muttered out of the side of his mouth.

The parchment fluttered at Ron and he pinched it between two fingers before Snape could spot Hermione extending it. She'd scribbled back, "If it happens, are you going to Finite him?"

Harry nodded. I HAVE to, he mouthed. He jotted a few more lecture notes – Defense was actually going well this year, in spite of Snape's personality, or had anyway, before the Haunting Charm – and suddenly a new scrap slid over from Ron. Hermione had scribbled, "But wait a minute – would this be the FINAL Accentuation, or would another one come immediately before the Charm breaks tonight? If this IS the final Accentuation, maybe you could just let the Charm run out? Finite would've been more beneficial last night, wouldn't it?"

Harry considered. WOULD there be a final – the WORST – Accentuation at 7:45pm during the Feast, followed by the Charm breaking? In front of the entire population of Hogwarts? Or would the Haunting Charm just end without any additional drama? Provided, of course, that Dumbledore hadn't already Finited Snape. Which Harry hoped he HAD, but if he hadn't… He shrugged at Hermione. His guess was as good as hers. She shrugged back. One thing was certain – if Snape got hit again, he'd Finite him, regardless, just to cut short his torment.

"Two more minutes," whispered Ron.

Harry could tell that Ron was hoping against hope that Dumbledore HADN'T Finited Snape. He'd even said he'd wished he'd had detention with them so he wouldn't have missed out. Harry glared at Ron.

"What?" Ron mouthed, affronted.

-:- -:- -:-

After the zoning-out experience during detention the night before, Snape hadn't dared to think about ingesting a single drop of Calming Draught before classes today. But now he longed for it, his nerves screaming with tension as he anticipated the worst. He glanced again at the clock. If there really was a six-hour pattern to this nightmare…

All of these students would see. Too many to Obliviate. He'd have to leave handling them up to Dumbledore. Besides, rumors were already circulating about previous classroom "incidents", although – quite unexpectedly – he'd not heard any rumors regarding those which had taken place during the Gryffindors' detentions. Who would have imagined that Potter and his cohorts could be that circumspect? Snape's eyes jumped to the back of the classroom and saw Potter, Granger, and Weasley staring solemnly back at him. It occurred to him that this was the first time all term that they hadn't averted their gaze when he looked in their direction. They appeared to be waiting…

It HIT him like the Hogwarts Express making top speed –

Thundered over top of him –

Bowled him over in a hideous blur of horror and pain –

Before his vision tunneled, he could see Potter rising up … pointing his wand … directly at HIM…

It WAS Potter, after all, he thought viciously, hearing himself scream. That little FIEND!

-:- -:- -:-

Before Harry could shout "Finite Incantatum!", his wand suddenly shot out of his grasp, almost as if it had been YANKED away. "What – "

"Harry!" Dumbledore's urgent whisper floated nearby. "Leave him be. We shall attend to him."

"We – who?"

But Dumbledore and Flitwick had materialized, even as they rushed toward the front of the room. Disillusioned, Harry thought dazedly, staring after them. They must have been here the whole time.

"Class is over for the day," Dumbledore addressed the students. "You are dismissed."

"But Headmaster," Draco's voice rose above the hubbub. "Is Professor Snape going to be all right?" He pointed at the man rolling tortuously about within his own robes.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Malfoy. Your Head of House should be right as rain by this evening." He waved a gnarled hand toward the exit. "Now if ALL of the students would please vacate the classroom." And Dumbledore looked meaningfully over his half-moon spectacles at Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Dawdling just enough not to be called on it, the three Gryffindors packed their books and papers into their bags. At Dumbledore's stern look, they filed slowly out of the room, and at a final gesture from the Headmaster, closed the heavy door behind them.

Several other students, mostly Slytherins, were still milling around outside the door, but when nobody emerged after several minutes, they slowly began to disperse.

"We should go, too," Hermione pointed out. "Dumbledore will let us know what happens. We just have to be patient."

Silently, Harry and Ron trailed after Hermione, not knowing where she was leading them, but not surprised that they ended up in the library.

-:- -:- -:-

Neither Dumbledore nor Snape was present at the Halloween Feast, Harry noticed. And Flitwick himself had left early.

Just before 7:30, a scroll had suddenly popped into being directly above Harry's abandoned plate. He snatched the scroll quickly before it could land in the remains of the sweets that he'd been unable to eat. It could only be from Dumbledore… "They want me to meet them in the Hospital Wing." Harry's emerald eyes grew very round behind his glasses. "I've put Snape in the Hospital Wing," he moaned. "He'll never forgive me for that."

Hermione squeezed his arm gently. "Could I suggest something for you to think about, Harry? On your way to the Hospital Wing?"

"Like what?"

"Would you consider forgiving Snape for whatever wrong you believe he's committed against you?"

Ron snorted. "Like he hasn't done loads to Harry every year since we started school. You remember that first Potions class?"

"I haven't forgotten anything, Ronald," she said tartly. "But there was something specific that inspired Harry to create the Haunting Charm. Wasn't there?" She looked at Harry. "Just think about it, okay?"

"I've got to go," he said, standing up and heading for the doors to the entrance hall.

But Hermione had a point, as much as he hated to admit it. Although Harry mainly feared Snape's wrath at this point, rather than wanting the man's forgiveness, he had to wonder how he could expect the man to forgive him enough not to seek reciprocal revenge if Harry himself refused to offer his own forgiveness.

Sirius had not chosen to haunt Snape – the Haunting Charm placed one hundred percent of the blame squarely in Harry's lap. Whether or not Sirius forgave Snape, in this life or in the next, was a matter which should not have concerned Harry, but he had made it his concern. He had sought revenge, and what had resulted? He shuddered a bit as he climbed the last flight of stairs to the third floor. Nothing that made him feel happy or satisfied, that was certain.

Instead, Harry felt … guilty. His lips twisted at the undeniable irony.

He stopped in the open doorway of the Hospital Wing. Contrary to his expectation of seeing a bedridden, comatose, or even mindlessly-babbling Snape, the black robes standing silently by a tall window belied the man's infirmity.

"Come in, Harry," invited Dumbledore pleasantly. "And please close the doors."

Harry obeyed, then moved hesitantly into the large room, slowly approaching the Headmaster's beckoning hand.

"Mr. Potter, I have been explaining your Charms project to Professor Snape," said Filius Flitwick quite cheerfully. "I assured him that I gave your prospectus careful consideration before approving it, and that I had been monitoring its effects ever since you informed me that you had, in fact, cast it three days ago."

Harry looked questioningly at his Charms teacher. "You also mentioned yesterday that you'd been monitoring him, and I kind of wondered why," he admitted.

Snape snorted loudly, as if the answer should be self-evident, but Flitwick gestured to his colleague to silence before he could voice his opinion on the matter.

"You see, Mr. Potter, this Haunting Charm of yours was highly experimental, and since its effects were entirely unknown, I wanted to keep a close eye on Severus for those seventy-two hours. Granted, I could not easily observe what happened inside his private quarters, but I have been on hand for all of the other Accentuations, as well as observing his general demeanor."

"So you were Disillusioned? In detentions and classes?"

Flitwick nodded, then laid a fingertip thoughtfully against the corner of his mouth. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, how would you evaluate the success of your Charm?"

Harry glanced uneasily at Snape, who stared at him with expressionless eyes. "Mm… Well, without knowing the full extent of Professor Snape's experience – just basing my evaluation on what I cold personally observe – I'd say that the Accentuations produced too strong an effect. Way too powerful." He hung his head for a moment, flicking his fingers nervously against his robes. Then he looked up, meeting Snape's eyes. "My original intention was to spook you, sir. To make you uneasy. Nervous. I thought the Juvenile Compulsion Guilt Charm wouldn't be strong enough to accomplish that on its own, so I combined it with Incremental Accentuation to enhance and periodically increase the effects. I had intended to produce mild to moderate paranoia, sir, not – well, not whatever you've been suffering. And not physical distress, either. I'm sorry about that, sir." The apology came easily, naturally, before Harry could feel any angst over it. "You've looked like hell for the past couple of days, so I KNEW something wasn't right. When I discovered Professor Flitwick was gone to Hogsmeade last night, I begged Professor Dumbledore to Finite the Charm after you threw us out of detention."

Flitwick interrupted. "Actually, Potter, I was IN your detention last night."

Harry and Snape both turned accusing looks on the small wizard, who added, "I put about the Hogsmeade story to cover my absence while I went to the Defense classroom."

"Then you saw everything!" burst out Harry. "So why didn't either of you Finite it afterwards?" His gaze flicked back and forth between Flitwick and Dumbledore. "Why did you let Professor Snape continue to suffer?"

"I would like to know the answer to that myself," added Snape in his trademark voice that sounded both silky-smooth and dangerous. "You also continued to allow me to HUMILIATE," he spat the word, "myself in front of students – "

"In one moment, Severus," said Dumbledore, holding up a hand. "But 7:45 is nigh, and I wish to observe the breaking of the Charm."

The three other wizards stared closely at Snape, who stared in turn at Madam Pomfrey's ornate wall clock, counting down the seconds. As the second hand neared the twelve, Snape began to breathe deeply as a familiar, crushing sensation constricted his chest. And then – he suddenly felt as light and free as a feather on the breeze. He blew out his last breath in relief. "It is finished," he announced.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "And now to answer your question, Severus. Filius had initially expressed doubt about whether such a charm would work at all, and if it did, how well it would work. Not to mention, being cast by someone who was not well versed in such complex magic."

Snape sneered at Harry, who felt his cheeks warm.

"However, once Filius determined that the Haunting Charm was, in fact, working rather well, I decided that the Charm should run its full course in order to observe its ultimate effects. And unlike Filius, I myself COULD monitor you within your private quarters, and I freely admit to having done so."

Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Why am I not surprised."

"The reason, quite obviously, was to consider whether such a Haunting Charm might prove useful in the War, as either a tool or a weapon."

Snape favored Dumbledore with a hard black stare.

"Thank you very much for acting as Harry's guinea pig, Severus," said the twinkling Headmaster as he graciously inclined his head. "You have performed a great service to the side of Light."

Flitwick caught Harry's attention. "I'll need your final observations written up, Potter. And observations from you, too, Severus." He looked at Harry. "Any final questions, Potter?"

"Er – yes, sir. Why are we here in the Hospital Wing? Instead of at the Feast, I mean."

Flitwick sighed. "I thought it wiser to witness the breaking of the Charm in private, given its previous, rather overblown manifestations. I had no idea of what to expect at the end, and I preferred not to subject Severus to the public scrutiny of four hundred students."

"I see. Thank you, sir. Ron and Hermione and I had already wondered if the Charm might produce one final Accentuation before it broke, so I'm glad you made that decision."

"Good, good." Flitwick happily rubbed his palms together. "That winds everything up, eh?"

Dumbledore nodded, but Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"A private word with Potter, if you please."

Harry held back a sigh. He had it coming, he supposed. He watched as Dumbledore and Flitwick departed, closing the doors behind them. Snape warded it.

"Your motives?" he demanded, not mincing words, his wand not quite pointing at Harry.

Harry met his black eyes squarely. "My motives were both personal and inappropriate, sir. I'll admit that much, but I'd rather not explain in detail."

Snape's expression had segued from startled to puzzled. He stared at Harry, and Harry looked back at him unflinchingly.

Harry couldn't feel any Legilimency going on, but Snape had finessed information out of his mind on numerous occasions in the past, so Harry concentrated strongly on a single image – Sirius falling backwards through the Veil … over … and over … and over…

At long last, Snape said quietly, "You blame me."

So he HAD been performing Legilimency.

"I did," Harry nodded.

"And now?"

Harry took a breath "Regardless of what happened in the Department of Mysteries, I … I realized that I turned it into something that should not have been my … my personal concern." After a moment, he added, "I'm sorry, Professor. I should have left it up to Sirius to haunt you, if he wanted to."

Snape – did his eyes glimmer? Was that a hint of a chuckle?

"I daresay I got off easier with your Haunting Charm, Potter." Snape turned on his heel and left Harry standing alone in the Hospital Wing.

Harry grinned. He could almost hear Sirius laughing … somewhere.