The gargoyle swung around to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the office. "Cornelius. Harry, right on time. Why don't we all come in and sit down?"

Harry peered past Fudge at Percy, but he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. Fudge was nervously eyeing Remus, who was close behind Harry and giving Fudge a "keep your distance" glare worthy of Sirius. They all filed in, and Harry and Remus sat down by Dumbledore's desk. Fudge sat in another chair, and Percy stood behind him. Clearing his throat, with a nervous glance at Dumbledore, Fudge said, "Well…Potter. How'd you know Lord…You-Know-Who was doing this spell?"

"You needn't sound so accusatory, Minister," said Lupin quietly.

Percy bristled, "I'm sure the Minister's only trying to get the facts!"

Harry looked mutely at Dumbledore. What do I tell him? Dumbledore merely nodded. "I…" Fudge and Percy stared at him. Well…half the school already knows. "I saw it."

Fudge blinked in confusion, while Percy looked simply horrified. "Saw it?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It appears, Cornelius, that the pains Harry has suffered in his scar in past years were indeed an indication of a magical connection with Lord Voldemort."

Both Fudge and Percy flinched at the name and looked at each other, then at Harry. "So he has been…hallucinating?" asked Fudge.

"They're NOT hallucinations!" Harry snapped, making them jump. "I was right, wasn't I?"

There was a clear, ringing note from Fawkes, as if the phoenix were standing up for Harry, and he flew back to perch on Harry's knee again. Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I think you'll find, Cornelius, that phoenixes are excellent judges of character. Fawkes would not befriend Harry if his heart were not on the side of right."

Watching Harry stroke the bright feathers, Fudge seemed to relax a little. "Well…" he muttered, "true, very true…but…Dumbledore…what's to stop this…connection from working the other way?"

If Fawkes hadn't trilled again right then, Harry would have flinched. He didn't look up, but felt Fudge and Percy's eyes on him. Quietly, Dumbledore said, "I fear that is a possibility."

Harry started to look up at him, but felt a stirring of anger he knew wasn't his own, and quickly looked down again. Get out of my head, you stupid…GET OUT! Rubbing his forehead furiously, he glanced up between his fingers and saw them all staring at him. "Sorry," he muttered. "This afternoon…gave me a headache."

Fawkes crooned, and Harry took a deep breath. His heart was pounding. If Voldemort possessed him here, now, there was no telling what Fudge would do. He heard Fudge say, "Unpleasant business, Dumbledore, unpleasant for everyone. But it's got to be asked…is the boy…safe?"

The grip of Remus's hand on his shoulder would have helped, except that Harry kept hating himself for wishing it were Sirius. "I think most will agree there is no place in Europe or the world where Harry will be safer from Lord Voldemort than at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"True, I suppose, very true," Fudge murmured, but then Percy spoke up.

"But what about the safety of the rest of the Hogwarts students?"

The words tore into Harry like a serpent's fangs, and he jerked his head up, staring at Percy in shock—and many other feelings as well. Percy wasn't looking at him, but fixing Dumbledore with the hardest look Harry had ever seen on the middle Weasley's face.

Worse, Fudge was beginning to nod. "Weasley's got a point there, Dumbledore. Couldn't You-Know-Who use him against Hogwarts? There are many children here; you're as responsible for them as you are for Potter. What'll you tell their families?"

Harry jumped up, causing Fawkes to flutter into the air, and headed for the door. "Harry!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Where's he going—"

But Harry was thwarted by the fact that when he reached the door, it refused to open. He yanked futilely at it, then let go in frustration. "Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "Please come back."

Harry let his breath out slowly, then turned around, keeping his eyes on the floor, and returned to his seat. He hadn't been leaving because Fudge and Percy's words offended him, he admitted to himself bitterly. He couldn't stand hearing it because they were both right. What was to stop Voldemort from possessing him right here at Hogwarts? Harry was dangerous!

Dumbledore spoke. "I understand your concerns, Cornelius, Percy. But I see no reason to resort to drastic action. To attempt to penetrate Hogwarts in any fashion would be a great risk to Lord Voldemort—and Harry's warning has already thwarted his attempt to draw from a new source of power. I can assure you, that the efforts of everyone here at Hogwarts will be focused upon resisting him—Harry's more than anyone."

Sure, I try, Harry thought. It just never seems to make the slightest difference.

"And that's it?" said Percy. "You're taking it all on faith with so much at risk?"

"I will not take action against someone who is guilty of nothing!" said Dumbledore, his voice rising slightly. Percy shrank back. More gently, Dumbledore went on, "Harry has a difficult struggle ahead. And as long as I am headmaster here, Hogwarts will be open to him."

Harry wished he could look at Dumbledore, now more than ever. A little of the resentment and bitterness left over from last year had faded away at hearing Dumbledore's words. It meant a lot, but…Harry was afraid Voldemort would come knocking at his mind if he looked at Dumbledore.

After a long silence, Fudge cleared his throat. "Well…suppose there's nothing to be done, in that case. You'll keep me informed, of course, if Potter…sees anything else?"

"Of course, Cornelius."

"Right, then." Fudge stood up. "We'll be off. Dumbledore, Lupin, Potter." Donning his bowler hat, he marched back to the door, which (to Harry's intense annoyance) opened for him. Percy followed Fudge out without so much as a glance at Harry.

As the door swung closed, Harry looked longingly at it. "Can I go now?"

"One moment longer, Harry," said Dumbledore, as if Harry had never been locked in that office and practically threatening to demolish it if he wasn't let out. "Remus, would you excuse us?" Lupin immediately headed for the door, though Harry wished he could summon the courage to protest. He felt better with Remus there. He kept his eyes anywhere but Dumbledore's face as the Headmaster said, "We must discuss the question of Occlumency."

Harry nearly looked up at Dumbledore as a sense of utter disbelief washed over him. "You want me to take it with Snape again."

"Professor Snape, Harry," said Dumbledore, just a trifle sternly. "Under the circumstances, I feel there may be no other choice.

"But he won't want to teach me again," Harry said desperately. "You said it yourself; he couldn't overcome his feelings about my father. And it was Snape always taunting—" he broke off, turning his face away.

All of a sudden, he felt an overwhelming need for Dumbledore to offer to teach him himself. I can't trust anyone without putting them in danger! I want to have someone nearby that I trust who Voldemort can't kill! Why can't you teach me Occlumency!

It must have shown in his face. Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid Professor Snape may be the only one qualified to teach you Occlumency, Harry, with circumstances as they are now."

Frustrated anger burst inside Harry like the pop of a bubble. "Well, how do you always manage to keep him out?" he snapped fiercely. "If he knows you know the prophecy, why hasn't he tried to pry it out of your head! Why is Professor Snape the only one bloody qualified if you have never had Voldemort take over you!"

Dumbledore didn't so much as flinch under Harry's sudden barrage of angry words. Inside, beneath the anger, Harry supposed he should probably stop ranting before Dumbledore got impatient with it and started actually taking him to task for being so insolent. But on the other hand…I hate Snape! Don't you bloody understand! If there's anyone to blame other than me for being a bleeding idiot and you for keeping me in the dark, it's him for what he did to Sirius! Sirius might have stayed where he was but for Snape's damn teasing! He recalled what Dumbledore had said about Sirius being too old and clever for Snape's goading to hurt, but dismissed it; between being forced to remain inside all the time and Snape's taunting, Harry didn't blame Sirius for snapping. I didn't have that excuse. And it turned out Sirius DID need to rescue me. I hate Snape…I hate him…

But it was Snape who had rescued him. And Harry still didn't understand why.

"Harry," said Dumbledore patiently, "Voldemort has never, and will never, attempt to penetrate my mind. I possess other defenses that would render such an attempt futile. But those methods do not include Occlumency."

"Why can't you teach me those then?" Harry asked tightly, taking deep breaths in a less-than-successful effort to calm down. He hadn't quite yelled yet, but the urge to scream was growing. "Why does it have to be Occlumency?"

"Because it is your mind that Lord Voldemort has targeted, time and again. For that reason, you must learn to defend yourself against the method of attack he has chosen. I promise you, Harry," the gentleness in Dumbledore's voice forced Harry to look away again, "I will have a long conversation with Professor Snape on the subject of these lessons. Some wounds do run too deep for healing, but they can be set aside for the sake of a greater goal. You know that Professor Snape has already done so once."

Harry got up and walked over to stare into the fireplace, just for the sake of moving about. His voice sounded absurdly small and shaky when he said, "You told me before you should have taught me yourself. You do know Occlumency."

"Yes, I know it. I know what I have read in books and learnt in school, what I have practiced among Aurors, or even in the past, I have defended myself against an unfriendly mind determined to drag secrets from me," said Dumbledore. "But Harry, never have I been in the position of defending my thoughts against Lord Voldemort himself. He has never attempted it, and would likely fail if he tried because, though I may be immodest to admit it, he fears me." Over his glasses, Dumbledore's clear blue eyes hardened. "That will not help you. It is the prophecy Voldemort fears, Harry, not you yourself. He knows already he can bend your mind to suit his purposes; attempting Legilimency against you holds no worry for him. It is true, I could teach you what I know, but I cannot be sure my own experiences will be sufficient to prepare you."

"But Professor Snape's are," Harry sighed, slumping his shoulders in resignation.

"Yes, Harry. I would not force you and Severus into this position if I were not absolutely certain now that, provided you can set aside your ill feelings, he could enable you to defend your mind against Voldemort."

"And you really think he—and I—can set all that aside? Now?" Harry asked, spinning away from the fireplace but speaking with more despair than anger. "It's not just my dad; you know what I think about him and—and Sirius. Now more than ever I don't want him mucking about my mind! I don't trust him!"

"I know. And more's the pity," Dumbledore shook his head. "You and Severus are on the same side, when all is said and done, Harry. You know it, and he knows it, or he would not have risked what he did to save your life. But your mutual distrust—and disdain—is yet another reason why he shall provide you with more…convincing practice." His eyes suddenly twinkled, and Harry was astonished to hear himself chuckle.

"I suppose that is true at least." Harry shook his head to himself; still bitter, still frustrated, still missing Sirius so much that thinking about it made him want to scream at the sky, still hating Snape only slightly less than Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange…he nonetheless felt a little better. He still couldn't bring himself to feel the same trust and awe toward Dumbledore that he had before last year, but…he shook off a confused jumble of emotions and asked, "So what should I do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Snape will be in touch with you, and will give you all due respect." Harry nodded, still feeling a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of working with Snape again. "And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I will expect you to afford the same consideration to him."

"Yes, sir."

Returning to the common room, Harry wanted nothing more than to throw on his pajamas and collapse for a few days. The vision, the meeting with Fudge, the prospect of more Occlumency with Snape, and the knowledge that Voldemort was waiting right behind his own eyes to take a bite out of Dumbledore had left him with a colossal headache, his scar throbbing continuously, and a desire to ask Hagrid to stick him in a sack and bury him.

But he'd settle for burying himself in bedclothes before it was even time for dinner.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear to him that he wasn't even going to get that. For no sooner had he gone halfway up the stairs than he heard two familiar voices in the sixth year boys' dorm, practically screaming at each other.

"You've got no right to talk about him that way!"

"He's dangerous, Ron, why can't you see that?"

"Yeah, yeah, last year he was dangerous because Voldemort wasn't coming back, now he's dangerous because he is—what's your problem? Scared of the old blighter's name? Well, I'm not!"

"I'm your brother!"

"Funny, you didn't act like it last year!"

"Why are you so determined to get yourself killed? Didn't what happened at the Ministry teach you anything?"

"Didn't it teach you? Harry saved Dad's life!"

"And then you almost got brain-scrambled following him into trouble!"

"He needed my help!"

"Not that much apparently, I don't see why you and Ginny had to tag along—"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!"

"You-Know-Who might possess him, and you'll be the first one he goes after!"

"Percy, I know that! And I don't care! After everything that's happened to him…he needs us!"

"He's NOT…OUR…FAMILY!"

"YES, HE IS! HE'S MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE BLOODY WORLD, AND I'M NOT TURNING ON HIM AGAIN!"

"AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE OF US GETS HURT BECAUSE OF HIM! ARE YOU WILLING TO TRADE MUM OR DAD OR ONE OF US FOR YOUR FAMOUS FRIEND—OW!"

"SHUT UP! YOU STUPID PRAT, SHUT UP! YOU'RE JEALOUS, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!"

There was a long silence. "I am not jealous of Harry Potter."

"Harry's a better wizard and a better person than you'll ever be."

"You do care more about him than your family."

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Harry's part of our family now, Percy. We could no more throw him away than we could…Ginny, when Tom Riddle got her with his diary!"

"That's not the same."

"It is now. Mum and Dad love Harry as much as if he was one of our brothers. He's saved Dad's life and Ginny's life and my life more times than I can ruddy count!"

"But Ron—"

"FORGET it, Percy! If you can't accept Harry, then you may as well not accept me."

"Fine," said a quavering voice. "Fine, Ron. I see where your loyalties are."

"It's not about loyalty."

"Isn't it?"

"Perce, if your idea of my being loyal to you means giving up my best friend, then you really are just jealous!"

"I JUST WANT OUR FAMILY TO BE SAFE, IS THAT SO BLOODY HARD TO UNDERSTAND!"

"VOLDEMORT'S GONE AND GOT LOOSE AGAIN, YOU BLOODY IDIOT, NOBODY IN THE WORLD IS SAFE! THAT'S NOT REASON ENOUGH FOR ME TO ABANDON HARRY!"

"Ron, you know it's not that simple. Not after what happened today. The whole bloody world isn't in danger of getting possessed by…him. Does this friend of yours matter so much that you'd give your family's lives?"

There was an even longer silence. And then… "I'd give him mine."

The hard edge of a stone stair impacted painfully on Harry's shins as he sank to his knees. No. NO! Didn't Ron realize…Percy was right…Harry wasn't worth…he heard someone heading for the door, leapt to his feet, and staggered back down the stairs into the common room, ignoring the startled looks of his Housemates. He'd just thrown himself into an armchair facing a bookshelf when he heard someone come quickly down the stairs—someone whose breath was hitching badly—and hurry out of Gryffindor Tower.

A few moments later, more feet came down the stairs, and he heard Ron's voice. "Hey, Katie, I need to talk to my sister. Can you have her come down?"

"Erm…you can come up with a seventh year prefect escorting you, if it's…private."

"Oh, all right then."

"Follow me."

As soon as they had gone, Harry headed back up to the dorm. Katie would probably tell Ron about Harry having been on the stairs, so Harry hoped he'd be asleep by the time Ron got back. With any luck Ron would be too embarrassed to—there were feet pounding up the stairs. Obviously luck just wasn't with Harry today. He dove into bed and shut his eyes as the door opened.

The footsteps slowed and came over next to him. "You know, mate, if you want people to think you're asleep, you should take your glasses off."

Harry sighed, sat up, and pulled off the covers so he could take off his shoes. "Guess I'll remember next time."

Ron sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "How much did you hear?"

Climbing back under the blankets, Harry faced away from Ron. "Enough…Ron, Percy's right."

"Percy's…what? Don't be stupid!"

"I am dangerous. You didn't see what happened in Dumbledore's office."

There was a long silence. "Blimey…did Voldemort possess you?"

"He might have. Every time I looked at Dumbledore, I felt Voldemort's hate, him wanting to…hurt him. I couldn't…it was like it was me that was feeling it."

The mattress shifted as Ron got up, then he went to his own bed so he was facing Harry again. "And Percy and Fudge saw?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. But Dumbledore told me to tell them how I knew about the goblins, so I had to admit I was getting inside Voldemort's head, then Fudge figured out that the opposite might happen."

"Damn, I'm starting to wish he really was as big an idiot as we'd thought," Ron muttered.

"At least he didn't find out it's already happened," Harry said dryly. "But with our luck this year, the whole bloody school'll get a demonstration before long. As it was, I couldn't look at Dumbledore the whole time."

"But Voldemort didn't possess you," Ron pressed.

"No," said Harry. "I just looked at the floor."

"Then obviously he can't get you that easily!"

"Ron! You…you don't understand!" Harry protested, half-burying his face in the pillow. He didn't trust his voice, but he had to make Ron see. "You and Ginny…and Hermione…and Professor Lupin and everyone else I care about…you're the first ones he'll go after if he gets me! And I don't know if I can stop him! You don't know what he's like!"

Ron folded his arms. "Well, you heard what I told Percy before—and I'm not repeating it because I'll be way too embarrassed." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, and at any other moment, Harry would have grinned back. "Hermione was right about that article. We're all targets anyway. Even if my entire family stopped having anything to do with you from this day on, do you really think that'd stop Voldemort?"

"I…well…"

"Forget it, mate. The only way we're going to win this war is if we stick together. Hermione's right about that too; we all chose to be your friends."

"Hermione's right about everything, isn't she?"

"Don't tell me you're just now realizing that!"

Harry spent most of the weekend working furiously on his Specialized Defense homework. "At least the essay's interesting," he said to Ron as they sat around a table in the common room with several of the Gryffindor D.A. members.

"Kind of, but bloody brutal!" Ron groused.

"Still better than these logic things she keeps giving us. What's the point, anyway?"

"Oh, honestly, you two," said Hermione. "Being an Auror isn't just about how fast you can throw hexes."

"Isn't it?" laughed Seamus.

"No!" Hermione scolded. "It's about knowing what to do and when to do it, being able to think fast and solve problems and be creative."

Harry thought back to what Professor McGonagall had told him during Career Advice, about character and aptitude tests. He pulled the parchment covered in random problems back over, frowning at it. Could this be the sort of thing she had meant? "What is it, Harry?" asked Neville. "Are you stuck?"

He frowned at the parchment. "I was just thinking of something Professor McGonagall said during Career Advice, about Auror training. She said we have to take character and aptitude tests, and demonstrate the ability to react well under pressure. And that there's lots more study and more exams after leaving Hogwarts."

Hermione cocked her head at him as though listening to something he wasn't saying. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? Becoming an Auror?"

"What else am I good for," Harry grumbled.

"That's not a good reason, Harry, you should choose something you really want to do!"

Harry waved her off. "I do want to be an Auror. It's just lucky I do."

"Don't say that!" Ron protested. "You're good at lots of things!"

"Like what?" he asked dryly, but started to grin.

Ginny, who was sitting in one of the armchairs studying Transfiguration with Bastet on her shoulder, said, "I'd wager you could play professional Quidditch, Harry. You're a terrific Seeker."

Harry set his essay aside. "Quidditch," he murmured thoughtfully.

"She's right, Harry, you'd have recruiters swarming you if word got out you wanted to play after Hogwarts," said Ron. "You don't have to fight bad guys all your life, if you don't want to."

"I never really thought about playing all my life either," said Harry.

"Of all people, mate, you've earned it," Ron snorted.

"In any case," said Hermione. "What you all need to earn right now is marks on this homework!"

"Yes, Professor Granger!"

"Oh, stuff it, Ron!"

Harry flipped vigorously through the Aurors section of the Life in Magical Law Enforcement textbook to distract himself from thoughts of hexing both of them. The essay assignment was a simple scenario:

An Auror receives a report that a wanted criminal wizard has been sighted at a house. He arrives on the scene to find the house apparently deserted. Write all possible first actions the Auror should take and briefly list the pros and cons of each, then indicate which response you would choose and why.

Hermione was reading the chapter on Basic Auror Procedures and counting her responses. "How many have you got?" he asked her.

She counted down her parchment. "Fourteen."

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron.

"Oh, give it here, Ron," she said irritably, taking his parchment. "You forgot about asking the neighbors if they've seen anything suspicious."

"How do we know there are any neighbors?" asked Neville.

Harry frowned at the parchment. "It doesn't say where this house is."

"Then should we assume there are neighbors?"

Hermione shrugged. "From what we've seen of Professor Smythe-Wellington so far, I'd err on the side of caution if I were you."

There were dry chuckles all around. "Good point," Harry agreed, and wrote: Assuming there are other houses nearby, the Auror could ask neighbors if they have seen the criminal. Pros: this could give the Auror warning of the criminal's whereabouts, Cons: the neighbors could panic and warn the criminal that the Auror is there.

Ron was taking Hermione's advice as well. "She's not Umbridge by any means, but she's no picnic either."

"That much is certain."

First thing on Monday morning before N.E.W.T. Defense, Harry went to Professor Smythe-Wellington's office to turn in his overdue homework from the first class. That assignment alone had taken six hours, complete with Hermione checking it over for him, but in the end he was rather proud of it. Smythe-Wellington received it with a "hmph," and waved him out the door.

Harry was surprised to pass Mad-Eye Moody as he left. "Morning, Potter," Moody said, heading into Smythe-Wellington's office. Through the still partly-open door, Harry heard him bellow, "Priscilla Smythe, you gorgeous creature, you abandoned us for this madhouse?"

"Alastor, you sexy beast, come here!"

Harry was not the only student who stopped dead in his tracks in the hallway at hearing such an exchange—then went sprinting wildly for the stairs in a desperate effort not to hear any more!

They had guests in N.E.W.T. Defense that day: a handful of Ministry Aurors, including Moody, and two members of the French Magical Assembly and some French Aurors. Ron, Dean, Neville, Susan Bones, and Michael Corner were telling the observers about the D.A. when Harry came in. "And, of course, it was Harry who did the teaching," Neville was saying proudly.

Moody nodded vigorously. "Good thinking, Potter, good planning last year. Want something done, got to do it yourself, when all's said. May save a lot of skins in the future. Probably already saved a few."

Harry felt his face getting hot as everyone's gazes fell on him. "Well…it was Ron and Hermione's idea, really."

"Modest lad," murmured someone, and he sighed inwardly.

Later, (when they were trying to make Harry feel better,) Ron and Hermione joked that it was really too much to expect that fate would not take this golden opportunity to give the visitors a classic example of Harry's connection to Voldemort. Halfway through class, when Professor Lupin had them in pairs doing basic duels with Stunners, Shields, and Disarming Spells, Harry got hit from behind (Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were the pair behind him) with a Disarming Spell right as Neville threw a Stunner at him.

The dilapidated sign for Knockturn Alley was directly across from Harry where he waited. Black-robed wizards were quietly moving into position ahead of him, their attention upon the small double-doors of a large stone building.

"We will be ready to strike at any moment, my lord," whispered the one nearest Harry.

"There will be no mistakes, Avery, or you will suffer for it," Harry said in a high, cold, cruel voice.

Avery flinched. "No mistakes, Master, I swear to you. Malfoy and the Lestranges will have the goblins' wards down in less than one minute."

Harry reached past the shivering man, wand in his long, thin fingers. "Make ready to move on my signal…"

"HARRY!" He was being shaken violently. "Harry, wake up!"

"What the devil is the matter with the boy?"

"He's had a vision! You-Know-Who's up to something!"

"Stand back, all of you, stand back! Harry?"

Harry forced his eyes open to see an anxious Remus Lupin hovering over him, gently shaking his shoulders. He struggled to find his voice as Lupin helped him sit up. "Voldemort…Knockturn Alley…attacking something…"

Lupin gripped his shoulders tightly, staring into his eyes with Moody just behind him. "What did you see, Harry? Quick—everything you remember!"

Harry shut his eyes. There wasn't much time; they were about to attack! He could feel Voldemort's anticipation in his prickling scar… "A Knockturn Alley sign with the paint flaking off…they're in a really narrow part of the alley that dead-ends with the side of a big stone building…light-colored…looks like some side or back entrance, the doors are half-sized. They said Malfoy and the Lestranges would bring the goblins' wards down…"

Moody straightened at once. "Goblins' entrance to Gringotts! Let's go!" There was a great pounding of feet toward the door as Harry dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his scar. His head was pounding fiercely in time to all the running footsteps.

"…Harry? Can you hear me?" He must have faded out again; he found himself slumped against Professor Lupin's shoulder. Someone was rubbing his back.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "Head's…a little…light…"

"Here. Relax. Head between your knees, that's it," said Lupin, in a tone that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "Breathe now. The Aurors have your warning; let them handle it. Concentrate on catching your breath."

"Did they…get 'em?"

"No word yet," said Hermione's voice behind him. "They've only just gone."

"Did you say a Malfoy was with them?" someone asked.

"Hey. Quiet there," said Lupin sternly. "There will be no discussion of Harry's warnings, in classrooms, hallways, or anywhere else. Anyone heard doing it will lose their House fifty points."

An appreciative intake of breath went up, although Harry heard Draco mutter, "What does it matter, Potter's barking anyway."

But Lupin was too busy worrying about Harry to hear it. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, trying to get up. "No, I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" said Ron, holding out a hand in case Harry started to sway. "You look a bit more peaky than last time."

"I can't go to the hospital wing every bloody time this happens, or I might as well move in!" Harry said crossly.

Ron was unperturbed. "That'd make Madam Pomfrey happy."

With a chuckle, Professor Lupin satisfied himself that Harry wasn't going to keel over in the near future, and dismissed the class. But, predictably, he asked Harry to stay afterward. "Ron's right, Harry, you did seem a bit weaker after this vision."

Harry shrugged, going to inspect the grindylow that had been restored to its place of honor in the tank by Lupin's desk. "Maybe he was trying to Occlude his mind to keep me from finding out—and it didn't work." He grinned over his shoulder. "So if I start bellowing and ranting like a madman, that probably means we got them."

Remus smiled, but came to Harry's side and said, "All the same, you must give Occlumency your full attention tonight. The value of these visions does not outweigh the risks to you of sharing Lord Voldemort's thoughts."

Harry frowned. He certainly didn't enjoy inhabiting the twisted mind of a monster whenever he lost consciousness, but on the other hand… "But we've lost Snape as a spy because of this summer. Shouldn't we find any way we can of learning what's going on?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "You are not that way, Harry," said Remus in a stern voice that didn't distract Harry from the flicker of fear in his eyes. "You are not a weapon to be used against Voldemort without regard for your safety. Before Severus Snape returned to our side, Professor Dumbledore had ways of tracking Voldemort's movements. We will manage."

It made sense, of course, but Harry felt rebellious. This was the most useful thing he'd managed to do for the Order, aside from getting himself captured, Snape exposed, his uncle killed, Sirius killed—Remus caught his arm. "I know what you're thinking, Harry."

"So you're the Legilimens now?" Harry asked bitterly.

"It is not your fault, what happened last summer. It is not your fault Severus was forced to expose himself. It is not your fault that your uncle was murdered. And it is not your fault that Sirius died in battle." Harry flinched and tried to pull away, but Remus would not let go. "You have nothing to atone for."

Harry looked at Remus, and was startled by the intensity of the emotion in his eyes. He swallowed hard, and said quietly, "Neither do you."

In Care of Magical Creatures, Harry found himself at last unable to get out of taking a turn doing "the Daisy dance," as Seamus and Dean had taken to calling it. Actually, they were learning to feed, shelter, lead, and contain Daisy—which still required an extensive amount of dodging and scrambling like maniacs to get into her blind spot on days when she was ornery.

And she was always ornery.

Harry got through his first round of Chimaera care with only a few mild singes on the edge of his robe (and a badly-scorched ego—Ron thought it was hilarious), but was made more on edge by the fact that no word (by mouth or by scar) had come of what had happened in Knockturn Alley.

And so it was in a highly-unsettled state of mind that he trudged down to the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson after dinner. Professor Lupin was at the head table when Snape came up and barked at Harry, "Potter! My office, immediately!"

There was a loud snort from the Slytherin table as Harry got up. "Blimey, what'd the blighter do now?"

Harry cast a quick glance back at the head table as he trotted after Snape and saw Professor Lupin watching him. Dumbledore wasn't looking at them—probably to keep the illusion that Harry was being disciplined, Harry admitted to himself—but Remus's lips twitched in a barely-perceptible smile of encouragement. Harry sighed quietly as he trudged out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. Dumbledore might not care how Harry felt about this, but all Harry's bitterness and resentment couldn't push aside the awareness that Remus did. Remus understood how desperately Harry did not want to face Occlumency with Snape again. And he was letting Harry know he understood, so that was something at least.

Snape's attitude seemed to grow colder along with the air as they moved down through the dampest stone corridors and staircases to the dungeons. He shoved open his office door so hard that it slammed against the wall and ordered, "Inside, Potter." He slammed the door closed behind Harry with equal force. "Sit down."

The way Harry had felt the first time he'd arrived in Snape's office for Occlumency lessons was nothing to the way he felt returning now. But it wasn't for reasons anyone else would expect; it wasn't because of the way he'd left, with Snape throwing things at him after he'd peeked in the Pensieve, or even the way Snape had treated Sirius. It wasn't even the events of the previous summer, and the undeniable debt he now owed to Snape. It was the thought that when Snape got back into Harry's head again, he'd be able to see Sirius fall through the veil.

And there was not a doubt in Harry's mind as he sank into the chair opposite Snape's desk, seeing the bitter resentment still simmering in the Potions Master's cold, black eyes, that Snape had every intention of doing exactly that.

Hermione got it wrong. Snape wouldn't be more decent because of last summer…he hates me more than ever. I've lost him his job. He's as useless to the Order now as he said Sirius was.

"Under the headmaster's orders, Mr. Potter, you will be resuming your Occlumency training," Snape growled. "I assure you, it was not until the headmaster phrased it as an order that I acquiesced, after the way that you invaded my privacy and possessions during your last lessons." Harry bit his tongue against trying to defend himself, but Snape went on, "As they obviously failed to sink in last time, I will reiterate that you are to call me 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times." He paused significantly.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, having expected that.

For a moment, Snape seemed surprised at Harry's reticence, but he plowed on, "Furthermore, some additional rules shall be established—and I promise you, Potter, if you cross me again, you will regret it. If anyone asks, you are serving detention with me for an infraction of the rules which you need not detail. Mr. Filch will collect you and escort you to the dungeons. You will not be permitted to be in my office alone for any reason, as you cannot be trusted to keep your fingers out of others' belongings."

That also, Harry had expected, and he didn't react. Snape continued, "Mark my words, Potter. The headmaster may be convinced that your receiving these lessons is vital to the war effort, but if you step out of line in my office again, you will wish it had been you dead at the Ministry last year."

Snape's sneer grew when Harry couldn't suppress a flinch, and Harry knew Snape would be milking that for all it was worth, even if he had—for some unfathomable reason—chosen to pretend that his rescue of Harry had never happened. Harry desperately wanted to run out of the room.

But something stopped him. He wasn't quite sure what; maybe it was Lupin's encouraging smile. Maybe it was what everyone said about how important the lessons were. Maybe it was how angry Sirius had been when he found out Snape had stopped them.

Maybe it was last summer.

In any case, Harry heard himself mutter, "Yes, sir." It did give him a little satisfaction to see Snape's genuinely puzzled expression. What can you do to me that you haven't already done, you Death Eater? Do you think taking House points or even throwing me around your office again will matter with Sirius gone? Do you think you can intimidate me at school after I saw you using the Killing Curse?

"Up, then, Potter. Wand out. You know what to do…or you should, if by some miracle your mind has gained some shred of discipline in the months since we last practiced this." Harry sighed. Last year, he'd found it impossible to detach himself from anger. Now, anger wasn't the problem. He wished it still was.

"One, two, three…Legilimens!"

It was worse than Harry had feared; he couldn't clear his mind. All he could feel was dread and despair as the office vanished from in front of his eyes and images from memory took over his surroundings…

Everything he and Snape saw had happened in the past year. Blood ran down his hand as he wrote I must not tell lies with Umbridge's detention quill…he was in Grimmauld Place, shouting at Ron and Hermione…he was before the Wizengamot, at his expulsion hearing, trying to explain the dementors…the dementor's mouth was only inches from Dudley's terrified face…the Daily Prophet was calling him a liar…Voldemort's body was rising from Wormtail's cauldrom…

No, Harry thought desperately, his mind reeling as he struggled for control, No, get out!

His knees hit the floor of Snape's office with a jolt, and the world returned to normal. "Get up, Potter! That was worse than your first lesson, have you learned nothing about controlling your mind?"

Picking himself up, Harry just muttered, "No, I guess not."

Snape gave him a little shove back into place. "Eyes closed." Harry obeyed with a sigh. "Breathe. Again. Deeper, Potter." Harry thought idly if this was Snape's idea of getting Harry to clear his mind or calm down, it wasn't working. Nevertheless, he tried to concentrate. "Focus. Clear your mind. Let go of emotion. One, two, three—Legilimens!"

He tried. He really did. He knew Snape was only biding his time before going straight for the memories that would tear Harry apart—and not the ones from last summer. The memory of being tortured, humiliated, drugged, and locked in a tomb for months still did not hurt the way the Department of Mysteries did. So Harry struggled, trying to keep his mind clear and blank, to escape not only the attack from in front of him but the pain from behind him as the world dissolved…

The Dementor-Boggart swooping down on him and the sounds of his parents' final moments echoing in his ears…no...He was in the body of a snake, diving and tearing and attacking Arthur Weasley…No…Cedric Diggory on the ground with blank eyes staring at him…NO!...Sirius laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange on the dais in front of the arch and the veil…

"NOOOO!" Harry returned to the office as both of his fists connected with something heavy and covered with cloth in front of him—then Snape crashed to the floor with a surprised grunt. Blinking, Harry gaped in astonishment when he realized he had hit Snape.

Gritting his teeth and catching his breath, Snape untangled himself from the chair of his desk and shook his greasy hair out of his face. Harry, panting, his head throbbing, stumbled back a few feet. Then Snape looked up at him, the memory of the last few seconds of the duel still fresh in both their minds…and coldly smiled.

Something inside Harry cracked. He whirled around and sprinted with all his might for the office door, not giving Snape a chance to order him back. As he threw it open and flung himself out into the corridor, his pounding feet and heart still were not enough to drown out the snort of laughter that echoed behind him.

Ron and Hermione were talking to Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody in the common room when Harry came in. "This is horrible," Hermione was whispering, her hands over her mouth.

"Professors, you'll make him understand, won't you?" Ron asked. "You know what he'll think, and he can't…Harry!" he exclaimed when the portrait hole swung shut behind Harry.

Harry knew immediately from their faces that the news was not good. The common room had been cleared. Wonderful, a stellar ending to an already-bad day. He swallowed thickly and walked over to them. "Well, here I am. What's happened?"

Moody's head was actually hanging. Harry swallowed harder. Remus looked as if he wanted to put an arm around Harry, and Professor McGonagall had tears in her eyes. Ron and Hermione were white-faced. "Harry…" said Remus softly.

Now he was downright scared. "Please," he whispered. "Whatever it is, just tell me?"

"The vision," Hermione blurted in a choked voice. "It was a fake!"

A great, cold lump of horror began to settle in Harry's insides and slowly spread outward. His heart was racing as though it wanted to pound out of his chest. He could barely speak. "Wh-what happened?"

"Ambush," grunted Moody, his head still lowered. "Outside the goblins' entrance of Gringotts in Knockturn Alley. They knew we'd be coming."

He was going to vomit. Any minute now.

Hermione let go of Ron's hand and grabbed Harry's shoulders. "It's not your fault!" she said desperately. "Don't blame yourself, Harry, we all should have remembered Voldemort could send sham visions! Nobody thought to check, not even—" she broke off in dismay, looking at Moody.

Moody finally raised his head to look at Harry. "Girl's right, Potter. You're not to blame; you did just what you should—reported what you saw. It was our job to verify before we went charging off. No one to blame but us. Poor planning, poor thinking, people get…" he looked away.

He felt so very, very cold inside. "How many Aurors were hurt?" That had to be it, of course, there must have been serious injuries and damage for them to be reacting this way.

Moody would not look at him again and even Lupin and Professor McGonagall could not meet his eyes. Ron spoke up quietly. "Tell him the truth."

"Six in St. Mungo's with severe injuries," grunted Moody. "And three dead."

Three dead…

Ron had a hand on one of Harry's shoulders, Remus on the other as Harry swayed on his feet. With an effort, he got his balance back, though he kept his own hand on the bookshelf next to him. "It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione said again, her voice shaking.

He had to swallow several times before he trusted himself not to vomit right there when he opened his mouth. "Thanks…" his voice cracked badly. "For telling me. I'm…I'm…sorry…"

"You've got nothing to apologize for, Harry," said Remus. "It was our responsibility to verify the truth of what you saw, not yours. No matter what happens, never, never hesitate to warn us if you have another vision. And when your Occlumency lessons progress a little further you'll stop having to worry about him using you this way—"

Harry gasped and grabbed his forehead; his scar must have burst into flames…how terribly humorous all this was…maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears, laughter of triumph and mirth…what a fine joke…how priceless…

"HARRY! HARRY, WAKE UP!"

Someone was shaking him so violently that his teeth were rattling, and that brought him back to the common room. He had fallen to his knees; Remus and Ron were holding him up, and Professor McGonagall and Hermione were on either side of Mad-Eye Moody, holding his arms as though afraid Moody would attack Harry.

"Voldemort?" asked Remus when Harry managed to make the foreign laughter stop.

He nodded, unable to keep from looking at Moody. For once, the look in both the old Auror's eyes matched. As toughened as Harry knew Mad-Eye Moody to be, he had never imagined the man capable of looking at someone with so much hate. Harry had faced off with Voldemort five times now…but the look in Moody's face made him flinch away. "What's the bloody bastard laughing about now?"

"This," Harry mumbled, starting to shiver. "It was…different. I think…it wasn't me going into his mind, it was…him coming into mine. He wanted us to know…he's laughing at us." He's laughing at me. He got me again. "I'm sorry," he said miserably.

"Told you, boy, it's not your fault," Moody muttered, his face softening a little.

Harry got up. He couldn't stand the way they were all looking at him. "Are you all right, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I'll be fine…I just need…" He ran up the stairs to the dormitory. Once there, the stares of the other boys told him that everyone knew what his false alarm had cost, and Harry staggered to the bathroom to be sick.

Three dead Aurors. He hadn't even thought to ask who they were.

He was so ill that he barely noticed when Ron and Neville came and found him lying on the bathroom floor, shivering violently, and he didn't even care when they practically had to carry him back to his bed. Having six siblings had apparently taught Ron a few things, for Harry was dimly aware of him dragging Harry's shoes off and bundling him under the covers.

He vaguely heard Neville's voice. "Don't even think about it, Finnegan!"

"I'm not gonna do anything! Relax, I know it wasn't his fault. He can't help what You-Know-Who does."

Hearing the bed curtains being pulled shut, Harry muttered, "Ron?"

The curtains rattled as Ron pulled them open again. "Yeah, mate?"

"The Aurors who were killed. Who were they?"

"Nobody we knew."

"I want to know anyway."

"Joseph Sloper. He's Jack Sloper's cousin. Moira Kennedy. She was a class ahead of Tonks. And Gregory Stein. He and Moody trained together."