Harry's heart was pounding furiously. It had been real, not a vision, Voldemort had snatched him right out of Hogwarts…

"Harry! Harry, what is it?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall pushed through the crowd to kneel in front of him. "Breathe. Calm down and breathe."

"He had me," Harry gasped. "He took the amulet…"

"Amulet? What amulet?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at them. "I made him an amulet so he could play," Hermione said quickly.

"We made it," Ginny said firmly. "Harry, relax, it was just a dream!"

"Wasn't," he choked out. He had me he could get me again I couldn't stop him—

"POTTER!" Professor McGonagall grabbed his shoulders; he had somehow wound up against the wall with his knees against his chest, shaking like a leaf. "Look at me."

Harry forced himself to look up, even though the shaking refused to stop. He'd been in Voldemort's hands twice now, with no way of knowing when he might be dragged back…I don't want to go back there please don't let me go back there… The entry was very quiet. "All students, return to your dormitories immediately," came Professor Dumbledore's voice through the crowd, sending most of the occupants of the other Houses scurrying away. Then the headmaster came towards Harry, smiling briefly at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had not gone with the others. "Minerva, perhaps you would speak with Miss Weasley and Miss Granger. Harry," he held out a hand. "Come with me."

Harry accepted Dumbledore's help getting to his feet and allowed himself to be led to the headmaster's office. Professor Snape was waiting for them. Dumbledore pressed Harry into a chair and beckoned to Fawkes, who flew over to sit with him, singing gently. But even the phoenix's song wasn't quite enough to make Harry's heart slow down. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, watching Fawkes rather than Harry himself. "Tell me what happened, Harry."

He swallowed and said softly, "I wanted to play, but the dizzy spells…we knew they'd cause trouble. Hermione and Ginny made me an amulet."

Standing against the wall next to Phineas Nigellus's portrait, Snape made a startled noise. "Go on," said Dumbledore.

"I made it through the game, but when it started to wear off, I got dizzy and…saw green again. Then I faded out and…" Harry's mouth went dry. Fawkes scooted closer to him and made a soft crooning noise. He shut his eyes. "I went somewhere else. I saw…Voldemort was there…right there…I was lying on the ground, and I couldn't move, and he pulled off the amulet…" Please let it have been a dream please let it have been a dream… With shaking hands, he tugged aside the collar of his Quidditch robe.

Snape jerked away from the wall as if it had burned him and came to inspect the telltale mark on Harry's neck. "What sort of lanyard was it?"

"Yarn, I think. Just the stuff Hermione knits with," said Harry.

"What else do you remember?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "The ground…hard, wet. My robes…there was haze, like fog, really cold and damp, and flickering green light. When the amulet came off, I was back." Dumbledore came around his desk to look at Harry's neck as well. He and Snape were very quiet until Harry couldn't stand it any longer. "It wasn't just a vision, was it?"

There was a brief silence, and then, "No, Harry. It was not."

"Hermione and Ginny got twenty points docked each," Ron told Harry in the common room that evening. "For meddling with advanced magic unsupervised. Remus was really upset with them."

"Is that where he was?" Harry murmured, sitting in an armchair and staring into the fire. What he wouldn't have given to see Sirius in it.

Ron was playing with Bastet. "Yeah. Getting protective of you, that one. He got on me for putting the team ahead of your safety." Harry glanced at him, but Ron didn't appear too bothered. "Can't blame him, I suppose. You are all he's got left." Harry winced. "Oh, sorry, mate!"

"'s okay," Harry muttered.

The common room was very quiet. Parvati and Lavender were reading Tarot cards in the corner, but most Gryffindors were still down at dinner. Harry hadn't been hungry. Ron was watching him. "You want to tell what the vision was? It must have been bad."

"Wasn't a vision," Harry muttered. Ron scooted his armchair closer to Harry's. "Somehow…I went somewhere else. Voldemort was there." He showed Ron the mark on his neck. "He took the amulet."

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped. "That's why you almost disappeared?" Harry nodded. Ron pulled his knees up to his chest. "What's it mean? I mean, what'd Dumbledore say?"

"I've been seeing this place in visions; it's a forest somewhere. It's cold and damp," Harry tucked his legs underneath himself in the armchair. "We think it's Voldemort's new headquarters. That's where I was."

"How'd he get you there? The amulet?"

Harry shook his head. There was still green on the edges of his vision. It seemed to be becoming a constant. "You remember that torch I told you about, that he used when he had me this summer?"

"Yeah. I thought it was just to make sure you didn't wake up."

"That's what I thought too. I remember it going out when…Snape woke me. But Voldemort said it would bind us. That's why I keep seeing green." Harry forced his gaze from the fire and looked at Ron. "He's using it to get to me. The connection from it is even stronger than the scar. He can curse me from a distance."

Ron shivered. "So what do we do now? I mean, how do we make the torch...er...stop binding you?"

Harry stared into the fire. "I don't know."

Hermione was stricken that the amulet might have caused more problems than it solved, and apologized every chance she got for the next few days. She also took it upon herself to determine the location of Voldemort's new hideout, and plagued Harry with questions aout his visions. "Woods, dark, cold, damp," she frequently muttered to herself. "Well, that only describes about a hundred places in the world."

Ginny was much calmer about the whole thing. But it was hard for anyone to remain calm when Hermione did another Revealing Spell on the dormitory. They found the same greenish snakes of magic—lots of them—pressed against the invisible shield made by the wards and attacking it with all their might. "I'm about ready to switch to Hufflepuff," muttered Dean Thomas as they watched it through the window.

"It wouldn't make any difference for you," said Ginny. "They're only interested in Harry."

Even in the dormitory, Harry was starting to see green in his sleep again. He didn't have to ask Hermione or even Dumbledore to realize what it meant: the wards were failing.

Voldemort threw them down at Privet Drive, and Dumbledore said that was the most powerful protection there was. Thanks to that ruddy torch there's nowhere he can't get to me.

Harry wasn't the only one getting used to life under siege. The Daily Prophet arriving with headlines of another attack on the Ministry of Magic or some poor Muggle or Muggle-born family no longer caused an uproar, just a lot of muttering and shivering. Harry and his friends were more interested than their classmates in Voldemort's strangely frequent forays into the Department of Mysteries.

"What could he be after in there?" Ron mused one day at breakfast.

"Any number of things," said Hermione. She glanced at Harry and lowered her voice. "What I want to know is what he's so interested in in the Death Chamber."

Harry knew she was afraid to mention that place in front of him—and it did still make his stomach turn—but he shrugged and said, "How often has he gone there?"

"Last night was the third time he's turned up," said Hermione, scanning Rita Skeeter's article. "With a Death Eater he called Wormtail."

"What could Voldemort and Pettigrew be doing in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry got the nerve up to ask Snape one night during Occlumency.

Why he'd thought Snape might be forthcoming, he could not imagine. "I have no earthly idea, Potter," the Potions Master snapped. "Kindly concentrate on the task at hand."

With an effort, Harry pushed aide his aggravation and worked on the breathing and centering Lupin had taught him. The forest he used to use as his escape now reminded him too much of the dark place where Voldemort's fortress was, so he'd switched to the seashore, with lots of blue sky and sun. That seemed to work. "Ready," he said calmly, not raising his wand.

"Legilimens!" Harry concentrated on the waves rolling over golden sand, and on a whim, made them bigger. And it was breezy and very warm and quiet. Snape stepped back. "Well. At last you are showing real progress. However, the Dark Lord will not give you time to clear your mind. You must learn to do so quickly."

"Right." Harry braced himself, but Snape did not attack again. Instead, he went and inspected some horned squid he had in a row of jars on the shelf. Harry waited, first puzzled, then annoyed, as Snape ignored him. Finally, he demanded, "Whatever are you waiting for!"

Snape turned to him. "Legilimens!"

It was a tidy trap; images began to roll past his mind. Damn! He fought to bring the seashore back, but he was too rattled to bring his emotions under control. He was lying on the wet stone floor as Voldemort snatched the amulet...he was lying on the dry stone floor screaming, as Bellatrix Lestrange poured torturing potion over him…he was struggling against Death Eaters forcing the Draught of Living Death into his mouth, scared, so scared….

"No!" Harry gasped and fell to his knees as Snape pulled suddenly back, but then Harry's mind was flooded with foreign memories: A greasy-haired man watched robed wizards sealing an unconscious boy in a stone tomb, forcing a cheerful smile…a gaunt, black-haired woman flirted with the man as he stood at a red-eyed wizard's right hand…the greasy-haired man crept toward the tomb and shot a jet of green light into the wizard guarding it…

"POTTER!" Shape bellowed, and Harry dropped his head.

"Sorry, didn't—"

Snape hauled him to his feet. "If the Dark Lord takes you tomorrow, your defenses are still pitifully weak; he will break through them in minutes!"

"I'm trying—"

I don't want your excuses, Potter!"

I got you out, didn't I?" he protested angrily.

"No, you did not, I—" Snape broke off. Harry blinked, remembering that last attempt, and something clicked in his mind.

He had never raised his wand or cleared his mind, but Snape had pulled away, as if recoiling, so fast that Harry was pulled with him, into his own memories. Harry remembered the last memory before it happened, of being so very, very afraid…so that was why Snape had started remembering that same night.

Snape was watching him, still breathing heavily. "If you intend to be of any use at all during this war, you will have to master your emotions," he said tightly.

That's what you always say. You and all the rest of them. Even though yours aren't nearly as airtight as you'd have me believe, Harry thought. Was that why Snape had always avoided his memories of that night? Aloud, he muttered, "I didn't know I was supposed to be useful in this war."

"If I was forced to lose the advantage of obtaining information from the Dark Lord's ranks in order to save your miserable life," Snape growled, "you had bloody better be useful. Now get out."

With a frustrated sigh, Harry headed for the door. His mind kept wandering back to what he'd seen and remembered of Snape spying on Voldemort. As he reached the doorway, something made him pause. He looked back and saw Snape reading something at his desk, his head resting on his hand.

"Sir," he heard himself say. "You may not be able to spy anymore…but at least you don't have to play their game anymore." Snape's head shot up, looking at Harry in disbelief. "You're free now, aren't you? You told Malfoy that day…"

A very odd expression took over Snape's face, but when he spoke, to Harry's surprise, his voice was quiet. "As long as he and his followers live, Potter, none of us are free."

"Our next Hogsmeade visit is this weekend, "Ron said, trying to cheer Harry up.

Harry poked without interest at his shepherds' pie, saw Hermione open her mouth to comment, and hastily took a bite. "Thought you two would be..." he waggled his eyebrows. Both of them turned red. "We want you to come," Ron muttered. "We told you, nothing's changed."

On Ron's other side, Ginny winked at Harry and asked, "So, what are you going to do then?"

"The twins are demonstrating some of their wheezes at Zonko's," said Ron.

"Wow," said Harry. "Zonko doesn't consider them competition?"

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, "Ginny quipped. "He wrote them and said he's interested in selling some of their products. So, Percy went with them to meet him, and they signed a contract, as Percy put it, to make sure they got every Knut those things are worth! There'll be a party to premiere them on Saturday."

Harry was impressed. "That's great! And nice of Percy to do that."

"Believe it or not, I heard Fred—or maybe it was George—saying he's never appreciated Percy so much," said Ron.

"Does Fudge know?" Hermione asked, lowering her voice.

Ginny nodded. "But Percy said he fed him a good excuse, something about a commission. Apparently, Fudge is greedy enough to believe it."

"The twins paid him?" asked Harry.

Ron shook his head. "They offered, but he wouldn't let them, even though they were really excited about the deal he got them."

"I think he's trying to make up for last year," Ginny remarked. "Not that I'll discourage him. But he's still edgy around Dumbledore."

"Why, Dumbledore's—"

Harry interrupted Hermione. "Dumbledore's not infallible. I'm still edgy around him."

"He's doing his best," Hermione insisted. "Maybe if you'd have a little faith in him, you wouldn't be so—"

Harry leaned across the table furiously, putting his face inches from hers and causing Ron and Ginny to start. He glared at Hermione's wide eyes and hissed, "My godfather's dead because of Dumbledore expecting me to have bloody…blind…faith!"

"Hey!" Ron protested as Hermione's eyes filled, but instead of choking out an apology as he'd expected, she reached toward his cheek in a gesture disturbingly like Mrs. Weasley. Harry pulled back and started to leave the table, but only made it a few steps before the Great Hall tilted and turned green. Neville and Seamus had to jump from their seats to keep Harry from toppling over.

"Oy! Harry! You okay?" exclaimed Dean.

While some students jumped up to see if Harry needed help, others remained in their seats and muttered amongst themselves. Loud jeers could be heard from the Slytherin table. Harry, with the aid of several supporting hands, sat slowly back down and rested his head on his arms, willing the green light to go away. Another frustrating constant in his life of late, his scar was prickling. His head felt terribly heavy.

His friends' questions and exclamations broke off suddenly, and someone put a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, he mumbled, "Sirius?"

Someone hissed, then Ron said quickly in a shaky voice, "Missed that, mate. What's serious? Is it a vision?"

Oh…damn! Harry fought to keep his mind working in the green haze and muttered, "This spell…more serious. I feel really weird."

Someone sighed. "Let's get you to the hospital wing, Harry." said Professor Lupin's voice. Harry let himself be pulled to his feet and ushered out of the room as the entire student body stared at him.

Halfway to the hospital wing, he fainted altogether. For a time, he was lying helpless in the green-lit mist, cold and damp, but then his surroundings changed.

He was standing in front of the stone archway, its veil waving gently, watching a small, black-robed wizard uncorking a vial of potion. "This had best succeed, Wormtail."

"It shall, Master. I'm certain." Wormtail simpered. "Once we have perfected it, even Death cannot stop you!"

"If I find you have brought me here pointlessly once more, I will feed you to Nagini," Harry hissed.

"This is the last time, my lord!" Wormtail pleaded, cringing. "Then we will have the technique should any harm befall you!"

"And how will we know for certain?" sneered a gaunt-faced, black-haired woman.

Wormtail actually paused to smile at her. "You'll confirm it yourself, good lady."

Bellatrix and the man next to her, Lucius Malfoy, exchanged dubious glances. "Enough," Harry told them. "Malfoy, assist him!"

"Yes, Master." Malfoy picked up several blood-red candles and laid them at the base of the archway, very close to the veil. He wavered a moment before stepping back, looking paler than usual.

Wormtail handed Malfoy a handful of something silver and powdery, then took the opened vial of potion – now emitting red steam – in one hand, and his wand in the other. "Get ready," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry watched as Malfoy and Wormtail pointed their wands at the veil, and began chanting softly. A breeze began to rustle his robes…the chanting rose in volume. Harry felt nothing, but the Death Eaters shivered; it was growing cold in the chamber. The three candles burst into flame; the chanting grew louder. The wind was blowing the veil. It was rising.

But Harry sensed something; a presence, not an intruder…he felt a surge of fury…the boy!

Harry gasped. He was back on the damp stones with green light flickering in the hazy air. He turned his head. The green flame torch was burning on a raised stone above him. Looking the other way, he saw an opening in the slimy stone walls. He was high up, looking down upon the dark canopy of trees and a single mountain glowing silver beyond them.

"Nott!" a voice suddenly shouted. "He's back!"

From a dark hallway across from Harry, two Death Eaters were staring at him. He recognized them: Nott and Avery.

"He's awake," Avery muttered, and pointed his wand at Harry. "Stupefy!"

"NOOO!" Harry cried in panic, fumbling for his wand.

Arms wrapped around his chest. "Harry! Harry! You're here! You're safe—don't fight!"

"R-Remus?" Harry let out a gasp of relief and sat still. Professor Lupin let go of him and sat back on the side of the bed in the hospital wing. "I had—vision…"

"Easy, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. She was standing at the foot of his bed with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny wide-eyed behind her.

"Breathe," Remus reminded him gently, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm down. "Can you tell us?"

"I think Voldemort's in the Death Chamber again," Harry said, keeping his eyes closed. "With Wormtail, Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange. They—some sort of spell, candles and potions—on the—the veil." Don't think about it, don't think about it! "So Voldemort—if any harm—Wormtail said even death couldn't stop him."

Dumbledore appeared next to Professor McGonagall. "Did you see anything else, Harry?"

Harry tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Remus handed him a glass of water, which he sipped gratefully. "I think…he realized I was there. Then I was back in the green—it's somewhere high up," he exclaimed, remembering what he'd seen. "Made of stone, there's a big window that looks out over a forest—really dark," he added, shivering. "And a mountain beyond it, glowing silver. But I didn't see a moon." He frowned in puzzlement, wanting to ponder something other than the veil.

Hermione gasped and opened her mouth, but Dumbledore raised a finger to his lips. "Hush, Miss Granger. I too recognize the place Harry has described, but we must keep it to ourselves."

Hermione nodded, and Snape, who Harry hadn't noticed until now, moved closer to Dumbledore. "If he's found it, we have a serious problem."

"I had considered the possibility after Harry's first two visions of the forest, but deemed it most unlikely," sighed Dumbledore. "But if Lord Voldemort's followers have succeeded in the Death Chamber, I fear 'unlikely' rules nothing anymore."

"What is that place?" asked Harry. "It felt…weird."

"I imagine it did," said Dumbledore, "but I cannot tell you just yet—I'm sorry, Harry," he added as Harry bristled. "There is much to be done, very quickly. I will explain these events to you as soon as I can, but now, I must see if there is any chance of stopping them."

Harry nodded sourly. Snape glared at him and said, "This does not concern you, Potter."

"Then perhaps you'd tell that to your old mate, Voldemort, so he'll stop giving me these bloody visions!" Harry shot back.

Snape bared his teeth. "Twenty points—" Dumbledore put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Severus." They went. Harry watched them walk out of the hospital wing and fumed.

"Harry," Remus put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.

"I am sick of being kept in the dark!"

"They don't have time to explain things if Voldemort's out doing dodgy experiments—" Hermione started to say.

"Not even to tell me the bloody name of the place I keep getting spirited off to?" Harry demanded. "I've been there, my robes are still wet, and it was real enough for Avery to hex me! What happens if I wind up there again and have no way out? And I don't even know where there is!"

Hermione's lip trembled, but she lifted her chin. "I'm sorry, Harry. The Headmaster told me not to say yet, and I'm not disobeying him."

"Fine!" Harry flopped back onto the pillows, shaking with frustrated anger. "Then leave me alone!"

"Hey! You're not being fair!" Ron exclaimed, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Harry didn't especially care about being fair just then. "Leave…me…alone."

They left. Remus stayed, obviously hoping to calm Harry down, but Harry didn't want to stop being angry. He was so tired of this! He didn't choose to be Voldemort's messenger, or spy, or anything, when were they going to start helping him fight it, instead of patting him on the head!

And besides, anger was starting to be the only thing that distracted him from being scared. Voldemort had realized Harry was inside his head this time, and something told Harry that the dark lord intended to make him pay for the intrusion.

Harry slept for awhile, and when he woke up, Remus was still there. "It's called the Forest of Shadows," he said.

"That place?" Remus nodded. "What is it that's worrying everyone?"

Remus sat back in the chair next to Harry's bed and rubbed his eyes. "It's very powerful—a great advantage to anyone who can possess it. The building you were in, rising above it, is called the Fortress of Shadows, and it is the focal point of the forest's power. Some say Salazar Slytherin made it his stronghold after he left Hogwarts, which would explain how Voldemort found it."

"Found it?"

"It's unplottable, and no wizard has seen it for hundreds of years. Only those to whom its builders would have granted entrance can find it," Remus explained. "It's thousands of years old. We don't know who the builders were, but don't much care for their taste."

"I agree," Harry muttered, shaking his head. Then he noticed Lupin's expression, and felt blood rushing to his face. "I'm sorry about…before."

"You owe your friends an apology," Remus said quietly.

Harry cringed. "I know."

"I know it's hard, to have to live like this," Remus told him, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. "And I at least know exactly when life will spin out of my control." He pulled a face that made Harry smile a little. "But we must maintain control of everything we can, Harry. Especially our emotions. Otherwise, the monsters win."

Harry fiddled with the bedclothes, feeling very ashamed of himself. "I know. And…I really am trying. It's just…" he looked helplessly at Remus. Maybe he was the only person other than Ginny who could understand how Harry felt. What it was like. "I feel like…" he thought of his seashore center, "driftwood. He's carrying me along, anywhere he pleases, and I can't stop him."

"I know, Harry. I know." The gentle hand on his shoulder made his throat tighten. He stared down at his hands.

"I miss Sirius."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud; he didn't want Remus to think he mattered any less to him. He wanted to say that, but his throat was too tight to say anymore. But the hand on his shoulder tightened, and Remus said simply, "Me too."

Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment, to Harry's relief. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?" he asked Remus.

"At the Ministry. He asked me to explain to you what's happening. He reported your vision, and it's confirmed that Voldemort was in the Department of Mysteries again." Remus shook his head. "But the Minister seems most preoccupied with the potential danger of you rather than the question of how Voldemort keeps entering the Ministry with such impunity."

Harry blinked. "Fudge's still on about me?"

"Absurdly so. Then again, such behavior is consistent with Cornelius Fudge's record," Remus muttered, sounding disgusted.

"What do you mean?"

Giving Harry a droll smile, Remus explained, "In times of trouble, it has long been Fudge's policy to simply kill the messenger."

Understanding, Harry nodded. "And I'm the messenger."

"You are. And after last year, you are no longer connected in the public eye only with Lord Voldemort, but now also with Albus Dumbledore—whom Fudge still nurses a very real grudge against, believe me. To him, you're no longer just the Boy-Who-Lived, but the personification of the prestige and respect in which Dumbledore is held."

"And that's why he has it in for me?" Harry asked wearily.

Something dark flashed suddenly in Remus's gentle brown eyes then, something that startled Harry. He didn't quite know what it was, but it seemed vaguely menacing. But it was gone just as quickly, and Remus shrugged. "In any case, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall are trying to sort it out. Are you hungry?"

Harry looked up at the clock over the hospital wing doors. "Can we go back to the Great Hall? I could…talk to Ron and Hermione then."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Remus asked. "Is Harry free to go?"

Madam Pomfrey tutted over Harry for a few minutes, but pronounced him fit to be released. "And I don't expect to see you here again for at least four days, Mr. Potter!"

Grinning sheepishly, Harry said, "I make no promises," and he and Remus laughed their way out the door.

Ron and Hermione were already seated at the Gryffindor table when Harry arrived. Remus went up front with the teachers, and Harry approached his friends with some trepidation. But when they noticed him, they both smiled and beckoned him over. Harry's stomach churned with relief; he didn't deserve them.

Ron scooted over so Harry could sit between him and Ginny. "Feeling better, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice to ease his dry throat.

"Did you see how many teachers have gone?" asked Ginny, pointing at the head table. "We heard there's a big security meeting with Fudge." Harry nodded. "I wonder if Percy'll be there."

"I hope so," said Hermione. "Fudge may still listen to him."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, staring at his empty plate. Just say it, you prat, just apologize!

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Did you hear something else about it? You look worried."

He felt himself blush. "No, I mean, I'm all right. I…I've got something I need to say." Both their eyes widened, and he said hastily, "It's not important—I mean, well, it is, but it's not…serious…"

Ron and Hermione blinked curiously at him. Harry forced himself to look at their faces—and felt a surge of utter loathing.

Hermione frowned and leaned toward him. "Harry?"

Mudblood…

WHAT! What was he…how could he think that…oh no…

"Harry?" Ron and Hermione were both leaning toward him now. "Harry, what's the matter?"

His mind was only half his own. Two sets of thoughts were trying to inhabit his brain at the same time; his scar was beginning to throb, lancing pain deep into his skull. Desperately, fighting for control against alternating waves of cruel anticipation and sheer horror, Harry looked at his best friends and whispered, "Run."