~~~~HP~~~~

Tuesday 31, December 1996

Christmas had ended up being the absolute best one Harry had ever had in the life he could remember - having decided he couldn't count the single Christmas he had with his parents. Most of the day had been spent much in the same way as Christmas Eve had been, trying unsuccessfully to sleep off the effects of the chemotherapy, but there was something about the atmosphere that helped put him in a good mood regardless. The remainder of the week flew by as Harry, Snape, and Dudley fell into a routine of: breakfast by nine, school work while sitting out on the back porch listening to the waves, helping Snape prepare lunch, hanging out with Dudley on the beach until the sun set around dinner time when they'd head back and help Snape with dinner. Each night at the cottage had been filled with a different activity, chess tournament between the three residents which in hindsight didn't really seem all too fair, school lessons for Harry and planning for Dudley, and one night of Occlumency, which was thankfully much more successful than the last time. Snape had taught him how to store away the things he doesn't want the attacker to access and once they were back at school, they'd move onto what to do during an attack. The Gryffindor wasn't exactly looking forward to that, but he knew that it was ultimately necessary if he was ever going to be able to block out Voldemort for good.

With the Christmas holiday now behind them, Harry wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face the second half of the school year and whatever phase three would bring at the end of this month. He'd been taking this year and his cancer treatments in small sections so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed with the entire process, however he couldn't ignore the fact that each new milestone brought with it its own concerns. He'd yet to do one phase without anything going wrong - the Privet Drive attack from Intensive/Induction Phase, his bout with pneumonia and the visions in the first phase of Consolidation, the feeding tube along with his the mental battles he'd been facing for phase two of Consolidation - now the unknown of what could be coming up in phase three was plaguing his mind almost nightly. If only they could stay here at Shell Cottage, maybe things wouldn't seem so daunting. Snape had already hinted that phase three would be another difficult one, but what could that exactly entail and could it be any worse than what he'd already faced?

"Be careful with that knife," Snape interrupted the young wizard's thoughts as he was slicing the cucumbers for their salad to have with dinner that night. Harry thought the man seemed a little off overall today, and the random reminder not to cut his fingers off played right into that observation.

"I do know how to slice things, y'know," Harry answered over his shoulder to the professor, acting highly insulted.

"You seem to forget that I've watched you slice potion's ingredients for five whole years," the man replied, "technically eleven years if you count-" he looked over to Dudley setting the table, " -you know."

"Well that's not fair," Harry bellowed, "I was under duress during those classes."

He questioned, to himself, if that was really true given the fact that Snape alluded to his other self having a difficult time preparing his ingredients as well. It was definitely an interesting statement that he would ponder later, but the sentiment was not lost on him as he narrowed his eyes in jest at the professor.

"Are the Weasley's coming over?" Harry asked, more in an effort to change the subject than genuine curiosity as he already knew they would be there. As an investor of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George had wanted to - no, they demanded to - demonstrate their latest set of fireworks to ring in the New Year out on the beach. All Harry knew about it was that it had something to do with sounds of some sort, which would prove to be an interesting way to start 1997.

"They'll be coming in around seven," Snape commented rather flatly, moving their roasted chicken to the table.

"I've heard they have these huge fireworks that explode in full pictures," Dudley added, sounding completely flabbergasted with the capability of the twins. Harry forgot that sometimes he took for granted the things the two of them could come up with. Combined with magic, anything was really possible to the Weasley twins. "Supposedly they have noises and smells to go with them."

This should be an awesome night, Harry thought to himself. The three residents took their seats at the dinner table and started plating their food.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Snape added without any animosity. "They have a decent future ahead of them as long as they can stay focused enough."

Harry dropped his fork with a loud clang when it hit his plate. Now he knew something was seriously wrong with Snape. His eyes went wide as he asked astonishedly, "Was that a compliment? To Fred and George? Weasley? Are you feeling alright, sir?"

"Yes, that it was," Snape actually laughed at Harry's reaction to his blatant compliment. "Now that I no longer have to teach them, and I thank Merlin for that every single day, I can admit they have a real talent for their chosen profession. You'll do best to remember that in order to do what they do, they need to be extremely well-versed in potions, otherwise they most likely would have poisoned someone by now. Every-so-often they've reached out to ask my professional opinion in one of their formulations and so far they've had it all more or less correct."

"More or less?" Harry asked skeptically, squinting his eyes at that.

"Well," Snape smirked, "I may have a professional obligation not to knowingly let them kill someone, nonetheless, nowhere does it say I can't allow some less-than-pleasant side effects to pass."

Both Harry and Dudley started laughing uncontrollably. In Harry's head, he was remembering the uncomfortable boils from their testing of the Fever Fudge last year and the possibility that Snape may have known that would happen was just too much. It was like his whole mentality of even the old Snape had shifted for just a moment. Harry had to know more.

"You mean, you give them advice now, or back when they were still at school?"

"Both," the professor casually answered, "the absolute last thing Hogwarts needed was two students selling something that could kill them or their fellow classmates. They asked, I answered under the unspoken rule that under no circumstances would their products unknowingly make their way into my possession."

"That's completely brilliant," Harry said, wanting to ask if any had knowingly made their way to the professor.

"From what I hear," Snape continued, preventing Harry from asking any other follow-up questions, "you're not so innocent to their endeavor either. In fact, dare I say they have you to thank for it?"

Harry's face started to flush. He didn't think anyone else would know about that.

"What?" Dudley chimed in confused and a bit excited that his cousin would have his hand in something so devious.

"Your cousin gave his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament to them," Snape had a hint of pride in his voice that Harry did not fail to notice.

The young wizard stopped laughing at the thought of the damn Tournament. The mourning from that event still sometimes caught him off guard, "How did you know about that?"

The professor considered the question and said, "One of their recipes had a rather expensive ingredient and I refused to weigh in on their rate of the formula's success until they told me how they'd be procuring it."

The Gryffindor closed his eyes, deep in thought over something he'd just considered. Had the twins been able to open their shop in Snape's old reality if he hadn't completed - in no way was claiming to have won it - the Triwizard Tournament? With Dudley sitting at the table with them, he couldn't just ask the man about it. Determination happened to be something he was very good at, so it only took him a minute to come up with a solid way to get the information.

"Do you think Fred and George would have been able to get their shop up and running if I hadn't finished the tournament?" He asked nonchalantly, knowing the former spy would pick up what he was saying.

"They're smart and resourceful boys," Snape said, without missing a beat, "I'm positive they would have found an investor, it may have taken a little longer though."

Ha! He felt proud of himself for his mediocre stealthy plan and its success. He was also relieved to hear they had been, to a certain extent, the same Fred and George. It was hard, and more than a little sad, to think of a world without Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in it. Fred and George gave them all a reason to laugh during these hard times of war and the world needed people like them in it.

As Snape had said, the Weasley's - along with Hermione, Remus, Tonks, and Fleur - all showed up promptly at seven o'clock bringing with them a wide assortment of desserts, pastries, butterbeer, wine, and alcohol. Snape gave Harry a stern look, making it clear that the young wizard was not to partake in any of the drinks outside of regular old pumpkin juice.

"Happy New Year's, Harry," Remus said, entering the cottage. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop on Christmas, but thank you so much for the drawing. Did you do it yourself?"

Harry nodded. For Christmas, he had sketched a picture of Remus, Sirius, and his dad based on piecing together pictures he'd seen of the three of them, plus his own memory of Sirius. He had drawn the three friends, as they would have been today if his dad and Sirius were still alive, standing out by the black lake with Hogwarts in the background. He'd made them all look completely carefree, which couldn't be any further from the truth. It had been a difficult one to sketch because he would have loved to know what growing up would have been like with his dad and his two "uncles"; one of whom was his Godfather.

"You're very talented, much like your mother," Remus said with a smile, his brown kind eyes meeting Harry's emerald ones, "It was a lovely gift and it means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Harry started to flush. "And I understand why you couldn't be here. Are you feeling alright now?"

"Oh yes," he said. Tonks came up behind him, her hair an odd purplish colour, and she wrapped her arm around Remus's, "by now I'm feeling much better. You're also looking well."

Again, Harry nodded wondering how someone who was his father and Godfather's best friend could sometimes feel like a total stranger. Maybe if Remus hadn't hid himself away so quickly after the events of his third year, it wouldn't feel so awkward between them. The young Gryffindor watched closely as his former professor continued into the cottage and greeted Snape with courtesy that the Snape he knew would never return. This Snape, though, sounded like he was asking Remus about his latest Wolfsbane dosage and the two men seemed to have a completely civil conversation. The young wizard thought it was amazing what a difference his presence had made in the professor's life; turning the dour man into someone more honorable and definitely more likable.

Once everyone was crammed into the cottage, Harry sought out Ron, Hermione, and Dudley. The four teens - all of them with a bottle of butterbeer in their hands except Harry - made their way back to the porch where they were watching the twins set up on the beach below them. It seemed like only yesterday they'd been in this same position on Christmas Eve and suddenly Harry thought the end of the holiday was approaching far too quickly for his liking.

"Have you heard from Draco at all?" Harry found himself asking Hermione when they'd made it through all the other topics of interest.

The Gryffindor witch blushed at her boyfriend's name. To Harry, they seemed like more of a normal couple than Ron and Lavender, and yet here she was almost too nervous to talk about it.

"Yes, I have actually," Hermione tentatively answered. "He didn't say much of anything really, but I think he's having a rough holiday."

That didn't shock Harry in the slightest. If he had Voldemort living in his house, it'd be a rough holiday for him too. He just hoped that being surrounded by Death Eaters and his father for about a fortnight wouldn't cause the Slytherin to sway back to the other side. Harry had already been thinking that Snape really shouldn't have let Draco return home, and that had more to do with Lucius's random return than Voldemort being there. As a spy, Harry understood that the blonde was expected to provide information - to both sides - however it wouldn't do them any good if Draco swapped sides on them midwar. He shivered thinking of all the things Draco could report on Harry and the Order that would be detrimental to their side. It would be worth mentioning again to Snape before they went back to school, but it couldn't be with Hermione at the cottage. He refused to put his friend in the position of having to choose between her friends and her boyfriend.

"Don't think about it, Harry," Hermione warned, her eyes giving away her impatience with him. "I know that look. He is not going to betray us. You'll have to trust me on this one."

She didn't exactly know that, plus Harry didn't think she could be impartial while dating the other teen, but he didn't comment. He wasn't going to get involved between the two of them and he had asked the question first after all.

"I'm not thinking that," was all he said. He could admit that based on where he was in life right now, he couldn't begin to even guess about what had transpired between the couple to cause her to so vehemently trust the Malfoy heir, but Harry trusted her… and he had learned to trust Draco, though he may still need to remind himself of that fact every now and then.

From their spot on the porch, Harry could see the others filing out of the cottage and down to the beach. It must be time for the twins spectacular firework display - almost Fred's exact words to him when they planned this whole thing.

Gesturing to the people walking away from them, Ron gently tapped Harry's arm and said, "Let's go down to the beach, mate."

It couldn't have come at a better time as he felt the dynamic change drastically between himself and Hermione. Harry really had no idea where this consternation was coming from within him, but it was as if he just knew something was coming and he was powerless to stop it. As he walked down to the beach dressed in his new warm jumper he'd gotten from Mrs. Weasley for Christmas, soft warm hat, and his red blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulder, he fell a full stride behind his friends and cousin, lost deep within his own thoughts. The more he continued down that path of thinking, it made sense. He was probably picking up on the fact that he was uncomfortable with the change in Hermione. She had really been the only one - besides Snape, but that was completely different - who had been by his side throughout all of this. What would happen if Draco's loyalties changed and she went with him? As if he didn't have enough to think about with cancer, an evil soul fragment within his own, his magic, he now had to think about Hermione being turned against him.

"Harry!"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the terrified voice of Snape calling out to him. He immediately brandished his wand when a hand - one he most definitely should have recognized by now - was placed on his shoulder and turned him around.

"Hold it," the professor said watching Harry's wand carefully, "are you alright?"

Why wouldn't he be alright? The concern he was able to see, even in the soft glow of the floating lanterns around them, from Snape's eyes put the young wizard in a state of alarm. Over the professor's shoulder, he saw the other twelve people watching them intently. Turning to his right, he was standing next to the ocean, proof that he had been walking parallel down the beach before Snape had stopped him. When had he passed them all? The last place he remembered being was walking towards the ocean.

"What happened?" The fear was evident in his voice no matter how hard he had tried to keep it at bay.

"You were about to leave the wards," Snape explained. Harry turned back around towards the direction he'd been walking and saw he was less than a meter away from the permanent red line Snape had drawn around the property to tell them where the wards ended. While he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, he had a feeling it would be extremely dangerous for him to cross that line. "Why don't you go and sit down?"

Something was definitely wrong. Harry didn't want to ruin the festivities by making a big deal about it, especially if it ended up that he was just being paranoid and it was only his lack of focus and bad memory lately. He walked through the cold sand and around the giant fire he had somehow managed to walk right past without any memory or knowledge of it. There were twelve chairs surrounding the fire that was dancing with streaks of blue, purple, and green alongside its normal orange and yellow flames. The only two open seats left - for him and Snape - were next to Mrs. Weasley on the closer end or by Ron, Hermione, and Dudley on the far end. He walked between the fire and the ocean, close to where Fred and George were setting up their firework show, in an effort to hide his mistake from the view of the group. In the long walk to his chair, he recognized just how far away he had been from where he was originally headed, signifying how much time he'd lost. Ignoring Hermione's always worried eyes, at least when something like this happened, he took his place between his cousin and the Gryffindor witch.

"Everything alright, Harry?" Dudley asked.

"I just wasn't paying attention," he claimed. It wasn't necessarily a lie because he really hadn't been paying attention. He'd been lost in his thoughts about what was going on with Malfoy - no, Draco. "It's nothing to worry about, sometimes I have a hard time focusing. It's the chemotherapy." He reassured the group, all of whom had no way of knowing exactly how toxic the medications he'd been taking were to his body.

The fire in front of him was mesmerizing and he could feel the warmth hitting him deep in his bones. There was no way that this was a muggle fire; the warmth was too engulfing not tohave some kind of enchantment upon it. The young wizard found himself moving closer to it, trying to push out that last bit of chill that always seemed to return to his bones, even when wrapped in his red blanket. The blanket had been a constant source of both warmth and comfort these last four months and yet now it did nothing to erase the sense of dread within him and the bitter cold - almost aching more than usual - he had throughout his body.

"-gave me the night off," he heard Tonks say to Ron with a nervous laugh, but he couldn't really focus enough to add anything to their conversation.

Overall, the boisterous group was clearly having a great time as Fred and George warmed up the show with their standard - for them at least - set of fireworks and other products from their shop. Harry watched almost through a fog as Ginny laughed hysterically, Bill and Fleur talked quietly to each other as if they were completely separate from the rest of the group, Mrs. Weasley had a look of pride within her that Harry never expected to see after her reaction to the twins' choice of career, especially after skipping their N.E.W.T.s last year, Tonks was so obviously flirting with Remus it was making the young Gryffindor uncomfortable yet Remus didn't seem to mind, and in his own group Hermione was trying to convince Ron of some intense study schedule he would never be able to commit to and that was before Lavender got involved. All the way across from Harry, almost as far away as he could get was Snape. By now, Harry knew it was so the former spy could keep watch over the entire group as if it were his sole responsibility as host to their no-so-small party.

With each passing minute, as the hours got closer to midnight and the group was getting louder and louder from the joyous atmosphere and the drink, Harry was feeling more withdrawn. His body was aching, not unlike back before he started the chemotherapy, his skin was clammy, and he could now admit to himself that overall he was not feeling well.

Without any warning, just as the real firework show started with a yellow duck waddling across the sky quacking a tune Harry recognized, but couldn't place, quickly followed up with a basket of fruit that emitted a smell for each one represented in the basket - oranges, grapes, pineapple, and bananas - Harry's head started burning. What started out as a dull throbbing quickly turned into a stabbing burning pain that radiated through his head starting from his scar. The young wizard gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to block out the images that came shooting across his eyes, completely unaware of his screams across the beach.

Bright shimmering fireworks of each color in the rainbow shot into the sky over the flat field in front of him. The sounds of people saying "oh" and "ah" could be heard above the talking and laughing.

Sweat was beading up on Harry's forehead as he unsuccessfully tried to pull up his forest, recognizing that he was getting a vision. Snape hadn't even started to go over how to keep other memories out, just how to protect his own. In the end, his effort was futile, even in the dark wizard's supposedly weakened state, the Gryffindor was no match for Voldemort.

Surrounding him were hundreds of muggles all gathered to celebrate the coming of the New Year in hopes that this new start would bring them more joy and happiness than the one they were saying goodbye to. They were unsuspecting of the dozen black-clad wizards walking among them, just waiting for his cue to tear through their jubilant celebration.

Today, there would be bloodshed, he would guarantee it. His followers were told to spare no one less they face the consequences of their betrayal afterwards. Lately, he'd been far too distracted with his own frustratingly declining health. Not anymore. Knowing what was happening with his body did nothing to boost his spirits, but this… getting back at the worthless muggles would make things better.

Back on the beach at Shell Cottage, Harry was now kneeling in the sand clutching his scar that was bleeding into his hand and onto the ground in front of him. He could feel the combination of excitement, disgust, and rage pouring through him from Voldemort's every changing mood.

On his cue, the screams started to penetrate right through the festive atmosphere as the loud music abruptly stopped and the fireworks ceased. It was as if their energy dying was fueling his own and he would walk away stronger. Four of his marks florescenced a bright green against the black sky proving even if the Aurors were to show up now, it was far too late. They'd been too complacent lately; assuming he'd slowed down for reasons unknown to them, but that was about to change. He quickly decided how to take care of the problem and when he returned, he would start the process of his next plan to heal himself from this miserable muggle disease. What he had planned would serve two purposes: to simultaneously heal his body and to punish those who had previously failed him.

Fire blasted from their wands into the colorfully decorated food stands along the perimeter creating a ring of flames to trap in the muggles. Corban and Rastaban had done their due diligence on this one and it had paid off. None of the muggles could leave, and it would delay their inept authorities from gaining entry giving them the maximum amount of time to tear through the festival grounds. He didn't need to lift his wand to enjoy the death and destruction around him. Some muggles, specifically the ones who fought back the most, were killed instantly; not giving them the chance to defend themselves. But it was the slow, painful deaths that brought a sinister smile to his face. When he could hear the screams and know it was he who was in control that night. Here, he could target the muggles in the way he could not seem to target and kill their disease running through his veins.

When it seemed no more movement was heard within the grounds around him, and the muggle firefighters had finally arrived, he and his followers simply left, as if they had not done a single thing wrong.

Every muscle in Harry's body was suddenly on fire, protesting his every movement as he writhed in pain on the sand, and his nerves sent waves of electrical shocks throughout him. He never thought he would forget the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and yet experiencing it again tonight - through his unique connection to Voldemort - it felt worse than he ever remembered it. If he were clear-minded enough, he would wonder if the pain he was feeling was better than the person on the receiving end of it.

"They are not working!" He was tired of this man's lies and as such let him know with the use of his favorite curse.

"I've explained it," the wizard in front of him claimed when he finally could sit upright again. "It's… a complicated..."

The man looked behind him for assistance. The snake-like wizard gave out a sinister laugh; no one would help the brewer in front of them, he was all alone.

His most loyal, or at least his closest, followers were surrounding him in the barren dining room. For this purpose, he'd removed all of the furniture allowing them ample space to observe the cowardly wizard in front of them. There was a reason he'd only used Severus for the best of his potions and this miserable brewer was no replacement by far. Matthew had been given the time and resources he needed to make the formulation provided to him by the new healer and yet he was met with only failures.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The flash of green was so bright and sudden, he caught two of his followers flinching and almost turned away from the blast, and he had no doubt in his mind who those two were. They would get their comeuppance soon enough.

"Leave. And dispose of him." He told his group of Death Eaters with a wave of his hand. The lifeless body was levitated out of the room as the rest of his followers shuffled out. As expected, two of them fell a step behind.

"Not you," He was pointing to the last of two stragglers, who unsurprisingly were also the two who had reacted to the death of his former brewer. The first paused as if to request to stay, but in the end continued on his way without looking back.

He could almost taste the fear radiating from the pores of the one he'd asked to stay and he was drinking in the energy from it. The Death Eater, still hidden behind his mask, kneeled down to kiss his robes.

"You will bring me Severus."

As expected his servant did not rise at this demand, however the small intake of his breath confirmed he'd understood his latest task.

"Yes, my Lord," came the reply with a voice that was strong and confident, but didn't completely hide the hint of fear beneath it.

Less than 200 miles away, Harry never saw the group on the beach gather around him. He never heard Snape's urgent voice call out to him. He only felt the sardonic elation and satisfaction fill him up just knowing he would either get the answers he was looking for or the revenge that was well deserved.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus knew something was going to happen long before he saw the blood seeping from Harry's scar. He'd woken the morning of New Year's Eve with his Dark Mark tingling and though he'd used his best salve on it, the pain continued to grow throughout the day. While Harry and Dudley spent the afternoon combing the beach, Severus had used his emergency communication method - a charmed coin courtesy of Hermione - to get in touch with Albus and request some extra security at the cottage, just in case. When Lupin and Tonks showed up with the Weasley's, he naturally assumed they were sent as his requested help; which was easily confirmed with a simple inquiry.

He felt the minute the Dark Mark burned sometime around nine o'clock that night. They'd been on their way to the beach, ready to watch some new fireworks the Weasley twins had managed to create, when it took him completely off guard. The Mark had been eerily silent since the night of the second Privet Drive attack and the rescue mission for the Smithe's, and its first use two and half months later had as much pent-up aggression in the burn as he expected the Dark Lord himself felt. It would be interesting to hear Draco's account of what happened leading up to the summons and he was saddened by the simple fact that he wouldn't be there for his protégé tonight. The new spy wouldn't be in a safe position to contact Severus after the fact, and should he get his first kill, instead of being able to discuss and rationalize with someone who understood the guilt he would be feeling, he would be surrounded by people who would be celebrating his newest achievement. Even before knowing the contents of Harry's vision, Severus knew they would have a lot to sit down and debrief once the holiday was over.

As with all the summons, dread filled his stomach when the burning on his left forearm ceased, signalling the start of whatever raid he was sure they'd be on. No one could understand the cyclic nature of what a summons entailed from that first burn - regardless if the person was in an appropriate position to answer it - to the split second before apparating to a mysterious location that could be either very familiar or terrifyingly new, to the time you finally leave to do whatever it is your Lord asks you to do wherever it is he sends you, and finally ending with the guilt over the lives you had to take or otherwise risk losing your own. With zero inside information this time, the casualties were sure to be high and severe. The Dark Lord could be anywhere in a second, miles from his headquarters in Wiltshire, and on a holiday like tonight he would have his pick of muggle communities to terrorize. Once the burn hit him, he nodded his confirmation to Tonks who excused herself momentarily before their walk down to the beach, hopefully to contact the Order to be ready.

At the current moment though, he couldn't think about the muggles that had likely been horrifyingly killed for reasons that had nothing to do with them and they'd never be able to comprehend. He couldn't think about how their families would never know what happened the night their mother, sister, father, or son died. He had to push the guilt he was sure Draco was feeling about his role in whatever happened that night and focus on Harry laying in front of him. It was obvious that something was wrong with the Gryffindor as he was walking down to the beach party with his friends and cousin, and it was confirmed when he almost walked out of the visibly marked wards.

Now, they had managed to get the unconscious young wizard back into the cottage and onto the sofa, but he was far from safe. Tonks had left to go back to Hogwarts and would be returning with Poppy any second, however Severus wasn't exactly sure what the matron would be able to accomplish. Harry technically wasn't physically injured, at least not in any way they could see. It had appeared like he was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, yet going through what he knew about mind magic, Harry actually experiencing it should not have been possible. Though it certainly wouldn't be the first time something abnormal happened to the young wizard; his son was destined to be the exception to every single rule known to man - wizarding and muggle alike.

Madam Pomfrey came through the door in huff pushing her way through the guests, demanding privacy, space, and a little help from Molly. The professor knew she wouldn't ask his help; he was too close to Harry to be able to objectively work on him.

Albus entered the cottage shortly after the medi-witch and immediately went into a deep discussion with Remus. In that moment, Severus realized Tonks had not returned, confirming that whatever had happened, had been severe. It was only about five minutes later that the werewolf abruptly left, angering Severus that the other man had barely looked back at Harry before leaving.

"We're going to go," Arthur pulled Severus aside to say. "If it's alright, Ron and Hermione asked to stay, but I told them you have the final call."

"It's fine," he replied almost too quickly.

"We'll be by in the morning to check on him," the Weasley Patriarch explained before the Weasley's, less Ron and Molly, took their leave.

"Severus," the headmaster called, walking up to the younger professor. If the circumstances had been different, he would have questioned where the headmaster had been wearing bright purple robes with small fireworks blasting across them. "What happened, my boy?"

"A vision. I do not know the nature of it as of yet. My best guess is it had something to do with why Miss. Tonks and Lupin are no longer here," he replied, giving what he'd said sink in before adding solemnly, "How bad was it, Albus? Be honest."

It wasn't a question he really wanted to know the answer to, but he had to ask. He needed to know what Harry had seen and with the Gryffindor unconscious, his own anxiety was continuing to rise from the unknown.

"It was bad," Albus walked over to the dining room in a position that would allow them to speak privately, but still gave Severus a visual on Harry's progress. "Early estimates are at least a hundred injured, about three dozen confirmed dead so far, and they're still trying to determine if there are any missing."

Pushing back the panic, he asked, "And the Death Eaters?"

Albus's crystal blue eyes didn't have their usual sparkle; it was far too depressing of a conversation for that. Instead they were filled with an understanding of how a man could feel waiting to hear if the child he was mentoring had been killed by taking on the risks no one else had volunteered to do. He tried not to think about this being what Albus went through whenever Severus had gone to Dark Lord's side as recently as six months ago; as he waited not only to find out the information the Order was so desperate for, but to hear if he had made it out alive this time. At the time, Severus knew the risks he was taking and never thought twice about it. Being on the other side of things now, while he waited to hear if Draco's body had been found - but would not be part of the death count because terrorists, as muggles would choose to call them, don't deserve that kind of respect - it didn't seem worth it. The little bits of information Draco managed to bring to them wasn't worth the risk to the sixteen year old's life. And yet he knew that was the deal they'd struck. Draco was born into an impossible situation where he would be forced to take on his father's ideals and pay for his father's mistakes. No child deserved that; to be used as a pawn in a war that went so far beyond them. Again he found himself questioning, how Harry and Draco could find themselves in such similar circumstances after being raised so differently?

"There were no reports of any deaths from Voldemort's side," Albus said, to which Severus felt himself relax. Physically, Draco was safe. Though mentally, with at least three dozen dead, the odds were not favorable that none of them were Draco's.

Albus walked back to the sitting room, patting Severus's shoulder as he passed, the closest the dark-haired man would allow anyone else to comfort him. None of them knew what the night would bring, except that they had a long night ahead of them.

It took the medi-witch two more hours to deem Harry as stable as she could get him, without actually knowing what was wrong or what had happened. The diagnostic scan showed he had something similar to a seizure and unfortunately there was nothing to do but wait for him to wake up; hopefully then they could get some kind of answers.

Severus wouldn't get those answers until three in the morning, when he was still wide awake in the armchair beside the sofa Harry was laying on with Ron and Hermione fast asleep on the floor and Dudley asleep in his room upstairs. How had he become responsible for the group of teenagers? So far, he never thought his counterpart had a better life here, nevertheless occasionally the idea of turning inwardly away from others didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"Hey," he heard Harry's scratchy voice full of panic from the sofa. Getting up quickly, the professor assisted Harry in sitting up. "You..."

"You are safe," Severus reassured the teen.

Harry started shaking his head back and forth and Severus wasn't sure exactly why. Did he feel he was still in danger from the Dark Lord in his mind? Did he see something they needed to be aware of?

"Harry," the professor finally said loudly to get the teen's attention, taking a guess at what the problem was, "there was nothing you could do to save them. Do you hear me?"

The pain in Harry's eyes was almost more than he could bear and his heart clenched when Harry didn't hide his tears. How much more would this child need to endure? How could they finally get through to him that these deaths were not his responsibility? That was really the only way Harry would make it through the years, and the battle ahead; especially when he considered they couldn't touch that damn soul fragment until he was done with chemotherapy, leaving the Dark Lord to stay in power.

"No," Harry sniffled, holding his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath from the near panic attack he was in, "he wants..."

"Breathe, Harry. You need to breathe."

The pause was excruciating as he waited to hear any information he could get on the vision he'd seen, on whatever it was the Dark Lord now wanted.

"He wants..." Harry lifted his eyes to meet Severus's dark ones, and once Harry started talking, it was like a flood gate. "He wants you. He asked… no demanded… one of them to capture you. He killed… he killed Matthew and now he wants you. He needs you to cure him. They're going to get into the castle, Severus!"

"No," he kneeled in front of the distraught teen thinking through the information he'd just learned. "Listen to me, Death Eaters cannot get into the castle, Harry. It's impossible."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows with a dark frown, "And yet somehow Voldemort ended up in the castle my first year? And Sirius my third year? What about Crouch? It seems to me like he can walk straight through the bloody door if he wanted to!"

Of course all of those were valid points and could not be ignored. It seemed every year they were unable to protect the young wizard in front of him from the very real threat out there waiting for him. How could he possibly explain that if the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't safe in the castle, a former Death Eater could be? The answer was simple, he would never be able to convince Harry of that.

Partially by luck, and partially by the circumstances, Harry became distracted by his two friends that had awoken from his yelling. Every-so-often, he'd make eye contact with the Gryffindor and tried to convey how seriously he was going to take this threat over him. If Matthew had been killed - an event that did not surprise him in the slightest - the Dark Lord must be trying to create the potions to rid himself of the cancer since even a mediocre brewer like Matthew couldn't mess up extra-strength healing potions. The chemotherapy-alternative though required a skill that far surpassed that of most Potion's Masters and as long as Severus ensured he stayed safely in the wards of the school or headquarters, the Dark Lord would never be able to make them.