Ron and Hermione were waiting next to his bed when he returned to it under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in classes?” asked Harry. Or maybe they weren’t. He didn’t even know what day it was.

“Not yet. We’ve got about fifteen minutes. I had to drag Ron away from all the food so we’d have a bit of time to talk before we had to go to classes,” said Hermione.

She came closer to him and said, “Harry, I want you to know that no matter who you’re father is, you’re still you and we love you anyways.” She reached out and hugged him tightly, followed by Ron, leaving his skin prickling uncomfortably.

“Thanks,” said Harry.

“You’re our friend no matter who your parents are, even if it is Snape,” said Ron.

“We didn’t get a chance to last night, since the Headmaster had to put that spell on you,” said Hermione.

“How do you know about that?” asked Harry.

“Well, you look a lot differently than you did yesterday and the Headmaster came to see you and we had to leave. It’s probably a charm.”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty strong one. Only Dumbledore can put it on me,” said Harry. Hermione glanced at her watch.

“It’s time to go. I don’t want to be late for class,” said Hermione. She hugged him again and led Ron out of the hospital wing.

“We’ll see you later,” said Ron. Harry shivered slightly once they were gone and curled up on his side. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he was afraid of Voldemort trying to kill him again.

Occlumency. He had to do Occlumency. That would keep him out. He had done it before. Think of the Snitch. The tiny Golden Snitch. He sighed and rolled over onto his back.

It wasn’t going to work. He had to think of something else to use, something that would hide his thoughts completely. An element. Something he could lose himself in, but not be lost. Like fog, or even better, shadow. Perfect.

He pictured himself in a dark room, getting darker and darker until he was completely hidden. It was pure black, blacker than black. He immersed himself in shadows and fell asleep, secure in the fact that his mind was safe from Voldemort.

Harry lay half-asleep when he heard a voice call his name.

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled as he batted away the hand that was resting on his shoulder. A deep laugh came from somewhere to his left.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Harry. Not time for sleeping.”

“So?” mumbled Harry as he rolled over and buried his face in his pillows.

“You have potions to take,” said Snape.

“That’s supposed to make me want to get up?” asked Harry. Already he was more awake than he had been. He suspected the talking was just a ploy to get him up.

He rolled onto his back and said, “All right. I’m up.”

“The rest of the way. You have to take your potions,” said Snape. Harry rolled his eyes and sat up. Snape handed him several potions, all of which he drank reluctantly.

“Okay, all done. Can I leave now?” asked Harry.

“I thought you were tired?” asked Snape.

“I was, until someone thought it would be fun to wake me up,” countered Harry.

“True. You’ll have to ask Madam Pomfrey when she will allow you to leave,” said Snape.

“Okay, can you get her then?” asked Harry. Harry was finally released from the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey later that day and Harry spent the next few weeks in a whirlwind of class-work, homework, and Quidditch practice. The end of November arrived, and with it, the first Quidditch match against Slytherin.

That morning, Harry got out his Firebolt and poked Ron until he woke up and then went downstairs to the Common Room to wait for him.

“Good morning, Harry,” came the voice of Ginny, who was the new Chaser for the Gryffindor team. She was carrying her new Cleansweep.

“Ready for the match?” asked Harry.

“Of course,” said Ginny as she sat down across from him. Ron came downstairs then, dragging his broom on the stairs behind him.

“Ron!” chastised Ginny. “Pick up your broom!”

“Yes, Mum,” muttered Ron as he shifted his broom to rest against his shoulder. Hermione came downstairs too and the foursome walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. After they had finished eating, Ron rounded up the Gryffindor team and herded them out to the changing rooms. Once they were all changed and gathered on the boys’ side, Ron began his pep talk.

“This is our first match as a team against a team that has had only a few changes in line-up. I only ask that you do your best to kick Slytherin’s arses!” Short, but good. Ron had summed it all up in a few sentences, unlike the previous captains, especially Wood.

“Let’s get out there and do it then!” said Ron. He grabbed his broom and opened the door to the changing rooms. Harry followed him, then the rest of the team.

They marched out to the center of the pitch and met the Slytherin team, whose captain was Malfoy. Harry’s stomach gave a lurch at the sight of that white-blonde hair, but he shook it off and mounted his broom. When Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded the commencement of the match, Harry rose into the air and above the game, searching for the Snitch.

For some reason, Malfoy kept catching his eye and giving him sly smiles. He was probably planning revenge for the incident on the train. At least now, he was fully in his mind and not under the influence of some strange potion that he didn’t know anything about. But there was no time to think about that; he had to find the Snitch.

He turned towards the Gryffindor goalposts just in time to see Ron make his second save of the game. He watched Ginny streak down the pitch with the Quaffle under her arm for a moment, then caught sight of Malfoy talking to Crabbe--or was it Goyle?--and looking his way.

Malfoy shot him another smile and turned back to the Beater, whichever one of Malfoy’s sycophants he was. Stupid Malfoy. He should be looking for the Snitch, not plotting with an idiot. And speaking of which……

Harry spotted a glimmer of gold across the pitch and darted towards it. He heard Malfoy flying behind him. Harry urged his broom to go faster. Malfoy was gaining on him. Harry neared the Snitch and stretched out his hand to grab it.

His fingers closed around the cool metal and tiny wings beat frantically against his hand. He spun around and held it up for everyone to see. He was greeted by Malfoy’s smiling face.

“What are you smiling about, Malfoy? Your team just lost.”

“So?” countered Malfoy. Harry just shrugged and headed down to the ground. Malfoy dived too, and blocked his way.

“Go away and sulk with the other Junior Death Eaters,” said Harry.

“Don’t presume things, Potter,” drawled Malfoy. He reached out and grabbed the Snitch from Harry.

“Give that back!” yelled Harry.

“No, I don’t believe you’ll be needing it,” said Malfoy and smirked.

“What?” asked Harry at the exact instant he heard his name being yelled from behind him. He turned his head slightly and felt something collide with his skull. Malfoy’s grinning face and the sky wavered in front of Harry’s face and vaguely, he was aware of his hands slipping from his broom and he was falling through the sky……..

~Snape’s POV~

Snape wasn’t sure who he should be rooting for, but he was quite pleased when Harry caught the Snitch. When he made to fly down to his teammates, he was stopped by Draco Malfoy, who looked quite pleased with himself. Malfoy grabbed the Snitch from Harry’s hand just as Snape noticed Vincent Crabbe raise his Beater’s bat to one of the Bludgers.

Snape’s eyes widened as he realized what Crabbe was going to do, and what it would do to Harry. Madam Pomfrey’s dire prediction ran through his mind.

“…But let me warn you, Severus. Any more severe blows to the head could result in brain damage, a coma, or even death….” No, he couldn’t let that happen.

Without thinking, he stood up and yelled, “Harry!” Harry half-turned on his broom the exact instant the Bludger collided with his head. No! He pulled out his wand to halt Harry’s fall to the ground, but Dumbledore had beaten it to him wandlessly. Snape left the stands with Dumbledore, who ordered all students to leave the pitch except Crabbe and Malfoy. Snape left them to Dumbledore’s wrath and knelt by his son, who was, surprisingly, still conscious.

“Harry?” Harry blinked dazed eyes at him and tried to sit up.

“Stay still, Harry,” said Snape. Harry obliged and Snape ran his hand carefully over the back of Harry’s head and was glad that the Bludger hadn’t split Harry’s head open. Harry’s eyes began to slip closed.

“No, Harry. You have to stay awake,” said Snape.

“M’wake,” mumbled Harry.

“Severus?” came Dumbledore’s voice. Snape turned slightly and saw Dumbledore standing behind him. Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and when Snape turned back to Harry, he saw that he had passed out.

“No,” he whispered, afraid that that had been the last time he would talk to his son.

“Calm down, Severus. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix him right up,” said Dumbledore as he levitated Harry onto the stretcher.

“But over the summer…..”

“I know all about that. Harry will be fine, I’m sure,” said Dumbledore. Snape wasn’t so sure of that. He had seen what had happened to Harry with a not-so-serious blow to the head. A Bludger was much more dangerous than a floor.

He walked silently beside Dumbledore to the hospital wing, where Harry was magically transferred to a bed and Madam Pomfrey was summoned. Snape slumped down into a chair while Madam Pomfrey examined Harry. She poked and prodded at him with her wand, frowning slightly.

When she finally turned to speak to them, Snape could see the fear in her eyes. Fear that Harry might not make it, that he would die. He knew the same could be seen in his own eyes.

“Professor Snape, he’s in a coma,” said Madam Pomfrey. She kept talking, but Snape didn’t hear her. He moved to stand by Harry, who scar was more visible than usual against his pale skin. Snape reached out and brushed a lock of black hair over it.

“Severus?” said Dumbledore quietly. Snape turned to look at him, his dark eyes shadowed.

“Perhaps you should get some rest before we talk about this,” said Dumbledore.

“No,” said Snape. He didn’t want to prolong the inevitable. “Tell me now.”

“Perhaps you should sit down first,” suggested Madam Pomfrey.

Do not presume things about my constitution, was the reply on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that Madam Pomfrey would give him one of his own Calming Draughts if she thought he needed one. He kept his mouth shut and sat down. Dumbledore seated himself too and popped a Warhead in his mouth, which irritated Snape.

“We can’t do anything for Harry right now except give him nutrient potions and wait. He could wake up as soon as a few days, or he could never wake up. I can’t even give an estimate of what will happen when he wakes up given the amount of severe head trauma he’s sustained since the beginning of summer. There is a good chance he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“Is there anything else we can do?” asked Snape almost pleadingly.

“Talk to him. In the Muggle world, that has been known to help,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I’m going to cast a spell on him to let me know if he shows any signs of returning to consciousness. In the meantime, Headmaster, I believe you had a suggestion?”

“Yes, Poppy. We can move Harry all the way next to your office and I can spell the area around him to look like a wall, but to people who know what’s really there, it will be like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.” Snape agreed and Harry was moved. After the spelling was complete, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey each went to their respective offices. Snape situated himself in a chair by Harry’s bed behind the fake wall. He gripped one of Harry’s hands tightly in his own and began to speak.

“Harry, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but Madam Pomfrey says it will help. So here I am, but I have no idea what to say.” He sat in silence for a moment. He hadn’t thought this would be so hard. It was like he was talking to himself. He wasn’t even sure Harry could hear him. The only sign of life from him was the steady rise and fall of his chest. He hadn’t moved at all since he’d passed out on the Quidditch pitch. He was so deathly still.

“I’m worried about you, Harry. Everyone is, even Dumbledore. If you would just move, do something, just so we know you’re still alive.”

*******

Ron and Hermione came to visit Harry later that day and Snape quietly made his exit. He busied himself making potions for Harry. When he returned to the hospital wing, he gave the potions to Madam Pomfrey and recommenced his vigil.

Several days later, Snape was in the hospital wing after classes to see Harry. He dropped off the latest batch of potions and stepped through the magic barrier that concealed Harry from everyone. He resumed sitting in his usual chair and began to talk.

~Harry’s POV~

Harry lay in the dark fog that had consumed his mind since he’d been hit in the head. He stayed in the dark, not wanting to face the pain that was sure to come. He heard voices--no, one voice--and struggled to get out of the fog. He surfaced enough to hear his father talking about something. He couldn’t tell what, but knew that voice, the one that was nearly always there with him. Exhausted by his struggle, Harry began to dream.

* He was walking through a forest with his father. Birds chattered in the distance and wind brushed though the trees. He turned to look at his father and the scene shifted. The forest changed into a dark corridor with a black door at the end of it. Harry’s heart gave a start as he realized they were in the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries.

Snape kept walking forward, leading him along with him. Harry followed along reluctantly. The door opened automatically for them, and Snape strode directly across the circular room of doors and pulled open the door. Harry balked at the sight of the Death Chamber, and hesitated, but Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him along with him.

They walked down the stairs and over to the veil. Snape pushed the veil aside to reveal Sirius’ grinning face. But this wasn’t the happy Sirius Harry remembered. This was a feral-looking Sirius. Snape extended a hand to pull Sirius out from behind the veil, but Sirius pushed it away, still grinning madly at Harry.

“You killed me, Harry,” said Sirius.

“N-n-no, I d-didn’t,” said Harry. “It w-w-wasn’t my f-fault!”

“Yes, it was,” said Sirius as his mad smile turned into a glare. “You kill everyone that gets close to you. You may have a father now, but it isn’t going to last. He’s going to die, and it will be your fault too. If he hadn’t rescued you, then there wouldn’t be a warrant out for his death. If it weren’t for you, he would be safe.”

“No, you’re wrong,” said Harry. He backed away, his eyes locked on the two men.

“No, he’s right, Harry. I could have let you die. Now, I’m not safe anywhere,” said Snape.

“No!” yelled Harry.

“Join me,” said Sirius. Harry stared numbly at him.

“Join me beyond the veil, Severus, before he kills you too.”

“No!” yelled Harry as his father walked forward and grabbed Sirius’ hand. Sirius pulled him through and as the black cloth closed behind them, a skeleton fell from the back of the arch. Harry ran around the veil and knelt on the floor.

“No,” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t leave me.” *

Harry was jolted out the dream and back into the fog, panting slightly and his face wet with tears. He had to get out of here. He had to see if his father was all right. He struggled futilely to escape the fog.

~Snape’s POV~

Snape was startled as he noticed a slight twitch of Harry’s left hand. Seconds later, Madam Pomfrey came through the barrier and over to them.

“He’s moving. That’s a good sign,” she said as she poked her wand at Harry.

“He’s dreaming,” she finally concluded. As she turned away, Harry jerked slightly and several tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

“Harry?” said Snape quietly. Harry was motionless once more and did not respond. Snape left when Harry’s friends arrived and set to grading essays in his office. When the arduous task was complete, he threw his quill down with a sigh. Perhaps he could go brew some more potions for Harry.

Just as he went to move the jar to open the door to his private quarters, a knock on his office door resounded through his office. He dropped his hand and went over to the door and opened it. Ron Weasley was standing there, knocking frantically.

“Stop your incessant knocking this instant,” said Snape. Ron dropped his fist and stared at Snape, his freckles standing out even more against his pale face.

“Professor…it’s Harry. He’s screaming and Madam Pomfrey can’t calm him down or wake him up,” said Ron quickly.

“He’s comatose, you dolt,” snapped Snape as closed the door behind him and brushed past Ron. He strode up to the hospital wing, but didn’t hear any sound. The barrier that hid Harry from sight must block all sound too. He passed through the barrier and was immediately greeted by Harry screaming.

~Harry’s POV~

Harry was once again submerged in a nightmare. This time, he followed his father through the veil and emerged into what seemed like the pits of Hell.

Huge, dilapidated buildings surrounded him and there were people everywhere, screaming and crying as they lay or crouch everywhere. Harry tore his eyes away from the horror and chased after his father and Sirius.

“Come back!” he yelled as they rounded a corner. “Please come back!” They ran through countless streets of tortured souls begging for release. Harry turned yet another corner just in time to see Sirius and Severus approach a large, golden arch. They ran though it without glancing back at him.

Harry ran to it and tried to pass through, but he bounced back off and into another building. He got up unsteadily and ran back to the arch. He knelt in front of it, tears streaming down his face.

“Come back, please. I’m sorry,” he begged.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to die Sirius. I didn’t, I swear. Come back. Come back….” He sobbed frantically.

“Why would we come back for you?” Sirius’ voice mocked him.

“Why should I let you get me killed?” asked Severus.

“I won’t, I swear,” pleaded Harry.

“Why should we trust you?” asked Severus. “Everyone around you dies.”

With those chilling words, Harry’s vision was filled with green light and his ears with his mum’s screams. Harry screamed too, trying to rid the image form his mind. It went away, but was replaced by more.

“So uncreative,” said Bellatrix. “Avada Kedavra.” Yet another flash of green light and his Uncle was dead.

Harry screamed louder as Vernon Dursley’s face swam before his face. “My wife and son are dead because of your freaky kind! This would have never happened if you hadn’t been born!”

“No!” he cried. “Leave me alone!”

“I’ve come back, my pet,” purred Lucius.

“Tell me, Harry. Did you enjoy the time you spent with your relatives this year?”

Harry curled up on the ground, his mind bombarded by horrific images. A chilling cold swept over him, causing him to shiver violently on the ground.

“No!” cried Harry weakly as he saw his father, bound and broken, in the hands of Death Eaters.

“Crucio,” said Voldemort lazily. “You will die a traitor’s death.”

“No!” he screamed.

“It is only fitting for scum such as you. How did it ever come to this, Severus? Spying for the Light side. Blood traitor,” he spat. “Begin.”

“Crucio.”

“Crucio!”

Curse after curse was laid over his father at once. Harry’s screams of anguish were interspersed with his father’s screams of agony.

Harry felt his hands being gripped tightly, but when he looked down, there was nothing there. He flexed his fingers and felt strong hands holding them still. He knew those hands. His father.

He breathed deeply and quieted his screams. He wriggled his fingers, feeling comforted by the pressure. But at the same time, he heard those horrible words again.

“Everyone around you dies.” He tried to pull his hands away, but found he didn’t have the strength.

“Avada Kedavra.” Another flash of green light. Speeding Death hurtling towards his father and this time he couldn’t step in front of it to save him.

“No!” he screamed and yanked away from the hands that promised to protect him, to save him. Lies, it was all lies. He curled up tighter and cried as his father’s death replayed over and over in his mind.

~Snape’s POV~

Snape watched with increasing distress as his son continued to scream himself hoarse. He reached out and grasped Harry’s hands in an effort to calm him. When Harry tried to pull away, Snape held them tighter and reassuringly. Harry quieted down and stopped screaming. Thank Merlin, thought Snape. Harry then tried weakly to tug his hands away again.

“Harry?” queried Snape. Harry stiffened, and then yanked his hands away. He whimpered slightly and his breathing became heavy.

“Shoo, both of you,” he heard Madam Pomfrey say to the two Gryffindors behind him. She stood by Harry and moved her wand, incanting a series of spells.

“Well,” she finally concluded. “I can’t do anything to quell his nightmares, but I think that comforting him helped. As far as his reacting, to both the dream and the environment around him, I find that to be a good sign. Make sure when you visit him that you let him know you’re there. It will help.” Snape thanked her and she retreated to her office after administering another nutritive potion to Harry.

“You’ve got us really worried, Harry,” he began as he seated himself next to Harry.

~Harry’s POV~

When the images finally ceased, Harry found himself in the middle of a forest. Silence reigned over it; not even a gentle breeze disturbed the complete and utter stillness. Harry looked around nervously. Something was not right about this. The silence unnerved him.

He began walking, looking for a way out. What seemed like an hour later, he was still in the forest with no idea of where to go. Darkness was descending rapidly, and there was no shelter anywhere.

Harry sat down beside a tree and leaned on it, shivering in the slight chill that was brought on by the dark. Still, there were no noises save for the ones he’d created, but even those were muted. What was going on? There was no way out of this. He wanted desperately to get out of the forest and back to reality. Or maybe this was reality. That Bludger had really messed things up.

He sincerely hoped that Snape had killed the little arsehole that had devised that plan. Draco Malfoy. Voldemort’s number one little Death Eater-in-training. As soon as he got out of this, he was going to kick Malfoy’s arse. Maybe he should just kill the prat. It would be good practice for when he’d have to do it to Voldemort. He growled softly under his breath.

Just now helpless was he now? The little Junior Death Eaters could probably waltz right into the hospital wing and kill him. He had to get back. He fought against his mind. The forest vanished and was replaced by the dark fog, but now, it seemed to have lessened. He heard his father talking and strained to hear.

“…Wish you would wake up soon…” Harry struggled harder and the fog finally dissipated, leaving him in darkness that wasn’t completely dark. He tried to open his eyes, but it seemed as though they were stuck shut somehow.

There was suddenly silence and then, “Harry?” Had he somehow moved his eyelids?

“Are you awake?” He was awake, he just couldn’t open his eyes! What was going on? He wanted to open his eyes so much. Why couldn’t he? He wanted to see his father’s face, to know he didn’t want to leave him. In his desperation, he felt his left hand twitch. He felt a warm hand envelope his own, and his fingers being lightly squeezed.

“If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers, okay?” asked Snape. Harry felt their hands’ positions being shifted and found his hand wrapped awkwardly around Snape’s. He shifted his hand to a better position and lightly squeezed Snape’s fingers. He didn’t have the strength left to do any more than that. He felt sick and his head ached where he had been hit.

Unwillingly, he felt himself slipping back into the dream world. He had been returned to the forest, but this time, quiet whispers permeated the air around him.

“Hello?” he said uncertainly. The sound was all around him, tantalizing voices that beckoned him to them, but where were they? He had completely lost all sense of direction. He whirled around, searching between the trees for any signs of people.

“Where are you?” he cried in frustration.

“We are everywhere. In the trees and the grass and the air. We are everything, even you.” Harry stared wildly. They were everywhere? But he couldn’t see them.

“Show me where you are!” cried Harry.

“Come and find us,” taunted the voices.

“Stop it!” Harry screamed. He began running, desperate to get away from the voices, but they followed, taunting and jeering. He ran through the trees, branches slamming into his face and scratching his arms. He brushed them out of his way and kept running. Suddenly, the trees vanished and he was sliding over the edge of a steep embankment. He twisted around and grabbed frantically at a rock. He clung tightly to it as he tried to push his way back up.

The voices finally ceased and silence reigned again until a sharp crack broke the silence. Harry leaned his head back to see over the edge of the embankment and saw a pair of highly polished black boots, half-covered by black robes. Beside the boots was a silver cane. Harry’s heart froze in his chest. Should he take his chances on falling or risk the encounter with Lucius? He tightened his grip on the rock and stared fearfully up.

“So, what brings your Death Eater scum my way?” commented Harry as casually as he could. That was the trick. Keep him talking and his thoughts off that cane. Though there could be another knife hidden somewhere. Harry shuddered slightly.

“He talks so brave, yet his actions give him away,” said Lucius as though he was talking to someone else.

“Indeed,” drawled another voice. One that Harry knew all too well.

“He dares insult our Lord and his faithful followers?” Harry’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. The black robes of his father swished into sight, and then he was kneeling before Harry. Harry tightened his grip on the rock yet again.

“Help me,” he choked out. Snape laughed softly.

“Help you? Why would I do that?” he said mockingly. Harry heard several more distinct cracks and then Snape was standing up and retreating beside Lucius and several other black-clad figures. Harry’s scar seared with pain and he reached out to rub it with one hand and almost lost his hold on the rock. He grabbed it again while his scar burned painfully. He fritted his teeth and looked up at the man--no, creature--that plagued his very existence.

“He was already begging for mercy, my Lord,” drawled Lucius.

“Good,” said Voldemort happily. “Oh, how I shall enjoy his screams as he falls. Do it, Lucius.” Lucius moved towards Harry, his cane gleaming in the sunlight. Voldemort retreated, but not very far. Harry was grateful for this, as the pain in his scar subsided a bit.

“It’s a long ways down, isn’t it?” commented Lucius, his feet coming to a stop inches from Harry’s hands.

“All those sharp rocks at the bottom.” Harry adjusted his hand on the rock, resisting the urge to look down, to see if there were rocks at the bottom.

“Scared, Potter?” asked Lucius. Harry didn’t respond.

“How do you think it will feel, having your body ripped apart by rocks? You’ll be finding out quite soon.” He stepped forward again, onto Harry’s right hand. Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming in pain. Lucius removed his foot and Harry felt his hand slipping off the rock. His eyes began to water and he whimpered as Lucius’ foot drew near to his left hand. Lucius’ foot came down on Harry’s hand harder than the first time, causing Harry to gasp in pain. Lucius slowly dragged his foot backwards.

“How does it feel, knowing that I am in charge of when you fall?” mocked Lucius. Harry trembled in fear. He knew the instant Lucius removed his foot from his hand that he was going to fall. Slowly, Lucius’ black boot was removed from his hand and Harry tried futilely to hold on with his pained fingers. His hands slipped off and then he was falling through the air......