Stepping into the backyard, Harry was surprised at the number of people milling around. Everyone who was staying at and regularly visiting Grimmauld Place was there, scattered around and chattering as they waited for the purpose of their congregation. Kingsley, Moody, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick were standing in a row facing the rest of them, waiting to ensure all of Grimmauld's residents had arrived. Behind them, two long stages had been set up horizontally parallel to each other and coloured in browns, yellows, and blues. To the right of the stages, a large chalkboard was floating, covered in scribbles that Harry could only assume was writing from his distance. Beyond the stages was a large hedge maze, the sight instantly dragging him back to that maze briefly. This one was big, but not nearly large enough to rival the Third Task's maze. Harry also knew better by that point. The maze didn't appear much larger than thirty meters across, but, he knew, upon entering, the maze would be infinitely larger.

As Harry brought his attention back to the waiting adults, his gaze was caught by Snape. He hadn't spoken to the man for a couple days, still hurt by their last interaction. He'd thought Snape was becoming someone he could rely on inexplicably, but, now, he wasn't so sure. Now, it seemed Snape was just like the rest of them, believing he was a useless child that had to sit and wait for instruction. He'd thought Snape was the one person that wasn't desperate to get rid of him, but, clearly, he was wrong.

A strange tremour ran up his spine and he rolled his neck at the odd tension left behind.

Uncomfortable under Snape's intense stare and tension still settling in his neck, Harry averted his eyes to look at Kingsley instead, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Everyone here?" Kingsley called out, looking around the yard. "Good. Now, listen up. Got an announcement."

The chatter quieted down and everyone turned to the Auror.

"It has been decided to take advantage of the mess that is the Ministry and prepare you," Moody grumbled.

"Meaning?" Ginny wondered.

"Meaning, magic is no longer being tracked and you can use magic this summer, so you are going to learn to fight," Kingsley replied with a grin. "Time for training camp, kids."

Harry found himself surprised at the proposition despite remembering Kingsley mention it a few days earlier, while simultaneously excited at the prospect of training with the Order. He glanced around as the others began muttering enthusiastically.

"Oh, realizing our lives matter after all?" Ron sneered, flashing a hateful glare at Harry who just stared back stonily, feeling slick tendrils dance up his neck. Almost everyone cast angry looks at Ron and awkward looks at Harry while Fred and George smacked Ron together in the back of his head.

"Beginning tomorrow, a duelling competition will be held amongst everyone and will progress over the remainder of the summer," McGonagall told them.

"Everyone except Molly and Arthur, of course," Kingsley added to the redheaded parents.

Mr. Weasley inclined his head, looking perfectly neutral or even supportive of the proposed training while Mrs. Weasley's lips were pursed and her eyes pinched, appearing to want to argue. Harry shook his head to himself. Mrs. Weasley was a lovely woman, but she was far too set on keeping them sheltered children, no matter their age or the things they experienced. She refused to acknowledge that they were involved in the war; it didn't matter that they were only sixteen. They certainly hadn't started this war, but they were likely the ones that would have to finish it, and she would need to accept that fact very soon.

"Everyone will duel each other once and, at the end, we will determine a winner," Flitwick continued.

"Any and all magic is acceptable except the Killing Curse," Snape told them and Harry caught the pointed looks from him, Kingsley, and Moody. He sighed, knowing he would be expected to use all his new magic. They and Charlie seemed excited about it, but he wasn't, not after Ron and Hermione's reactions. He'd seen how people responded to power, especially unexplainable power, and he knew he would lose more people as a result of his new magic.

Harry watched Hermione's hand shoot into the air as though they were in class. "Are you saying the other Unforgiveables are allowed and Dark Magic?"

"Yes," Snape said shortly, giving her his usual look of annoyance.

"But, they're illegal!" Hermione protested, aghast.

"Not anymore, kid, and no law is going to stop an enemy from using them against you," Moody said gruffly, leaning on his staff.

"And, with Severus, we have ample access to any necessary medical care," Kingsley added with a gesture in Snape's direction. 

Harry noticed the uncertain, distrustful looks sent at Snape by Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and even from Lupin. Interesting considering the werewolf had trusted Snape so much only a few years earlier and still did to brew his Wolfsbane, but apparently had issues trusting the man to provide medical attention to the house?

Hermione's face was still a twisted mix between sour protestation and appall. Harry shook his head again. Hermione was still afraid of all the wrong things, much like Mrs. Weasley.

"Now, practice and training will take place in the maze with whoever is here and willing each day," Moody continued.

"Wait, we're not expected to duel you, are we?" Ron asked, gesturing to all the professors and Aurors.

"We are all participants, Weasley," McGonagall replied with an arched brow.

Ron gaped, dumbfounded. "But...we have no chance! We're sixteen!"

"And it is extremely unlikely any opponent you face will be at your level," Kingsley pointed out. "They will all be older, stronger, faster, and more powerful."

Ron looked like he wanted to keep arguing and, glancing at Mrs. Weasley, Harry found her looking much the same. She clearly didn't approve of this competition.

"That is why you will learn to fight against superior fighters," Flitwick said. "We want you to have a chance out there."

"I know one way we'd all have a chance," Ron muttered darkly though still loud enough for Harry and the others to hear.

Harry narrowed his eyes, the tendrils sinking into him again and making him roll his tight shoulders. He watched Fred and George push Ron hard enough to make their brother fall to the ground.

"Either shut up or go back inside," Charlie snapped as Ron pushed himself to his feet. A muscle twitched in Ron's clenched jaw as he glared at his brothers and crossed his arms.

"We will also be arranging different conditions for you to duel in," Kingsley said, breaking the awkward silence. "The days won't often be bright and sunny when you fight."

"We strongly recommend you take this opportunity seriously," McGonagall told them. "We want you prepared for whatever you may face."

"But, we also want you to have fun," Kingsley added. "So, don't take it too seriously. Take the Duelling elective for that."

There was a small chuckle and then everyone dispersed, excited chatter among the younger generation of residents charging the air. Harry walked across the yard to the floating board, passing Ron and Hermione. Ron glared at him, one he returned, while Hermione looked unsure. He stared hard at Ron's back as the two returned to the house.

‘Yes,' a voice hissed in his head and he instantly put a hand in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the necklace. ‘Feel.'

A trickle running down his spine, Harry turned to the board to see what the first day of duels was like.

Day 1

Harry v. Bill

Minerva v. Severus

Ron v. Kingsley

Filius v. Tonks

Hermione v. George

Fleur v. Charlie

He was content with his first duel though he still worried about using his magic. He didn't want everyone else to be afraid.

‘They should be,' the voice hissed again. ‘They should fear what you are...what you can become...'

Harry's hand clenched around the necklace tightly.

"You have been avoiding me."

"It's not that big of a house," Harry said shortly, not looking away from the board even as he felt Snape stand a short distance behind him.

"You have experience."

Harry turned around then. "Probably because you've never given me reason not to avoid you. Unsurprisingly, that obviously hasn't changed."

With a glare, Harry turned away from Snape and walked over to the closest stage, hopping up to sit on its edge. He pulled one leg up to bend at the knee while his other dangled over the side. He pulled the necklace from his pocket and began turning it over in his hands, keeping it mostly hidden by his fingers.

"Potter, what do you want me to say?"

"Do you know why I went down that trapdoor? Or into the Chamber of Secrets? Or back in time with Hermione? Or in Dumbledore's Pensieve? Or yours? Or why I fought Umbridge?" Harry retorted, ignoring the man's question. "Hermione says it's because I have a ‘saving people thing'. Ron thinks it's because I like the attention. A lot like you, isn't he? You probably think it's because I'm an idiot that can't be bothered to think about anything and can't leave well enough alone because the rules don't apply to me. Maybe you're right, but I did all those things because not one person ever listened to me or told me a damn thing."

Snape said nothing, considering him oddly as he stood with his hands in his trouser pockets. Harry looked up at the man, eyes hard and face blank.

"I told McGonagall someone was after the philosopher's stone. I wanted to tell Dumbledore I was hearing that bloody snake, but he looked at me like there was already something wrong with me, like he was lying and did believe I was the one petrifying students. No one thought I had a right to know who Sirius was to me, regardless of if he wanted to kill me or not. Not one person tried to get me out of that tournament and when I told Dumbledore I'd had dreams about Voldemort, Pettigrew, and Crouch, he said they were only dreams and to ignore them. I tried to tell McGonagall what Umbridge was doing, but she told me to keep my head down. When I started having the visions, Dumbledore ignored me instead of telling me what was happening to me. I get possessed, Sirius dies, and Dumbledore decides to tell me the prophecy, but not exactly what it means for me. Something happens to my magic and, instead of telling me what, I get left in Privet Drive and told to get it under control," Harry ranted bitterly. "That's why I do the things I do, because I'm left to do them in the first place, but without a drop of trust or information. I hate not knowing because my entire life has been nothing but not knowing and, every time, someone gets hurt and that ends up on me. That's why I avoid you because, until you do something different, don't bother."

He kept his eyes on Snape's for a long moment before dropping them to the necklace hidden in his tightly clenched fist. He uncurled his fingers, finding a red indentation in his palm from the pendant. He didn't look up or react as Snape came to lean against the stage beside him.

"You asked me once what it was like when I was Marked," Snape said. "It was exhilarating."

Harry didn't say anything, closing his fingers around the pendant again and staring at the grass as he waited for more.

"Until I was eleven, I had little to no escape from my father. I had no one to tell. Lily knew, but she never told anyone else, never suggested a solution no matter how absurd. I expected as much. We were children, after all. What could children do?" Snape continued. "I assumed Hogwarts would provide that escape, maybe someone that could help. Instead, the pattern repeated itself and I spent an additional seven years belonging nowhere, and that bloody hat knew it."

Here, Harry finally looked up at the professor. "You were a hat stall?"

"Not in the same way. The hat wasn't torn between two Houses. It was rather silent during my Sorting," Snape replied. "It didn't know where I belonged...if I belonged."

Harry took in the tight, faraway expression before turning back to the grass.

"When I found the Death Eaters-or when they found me, depending on your perspective, I suppose-I was accepted in a way I'd never experienced before and everything I felt was validated though it likely should not have been. I was angry and bitter and hate for anything or anyone I deemed to have wronged me coloured my world," Snape said. "A stronger person would have let those wrongs go and become a better person. I, decidedly, did not do that. So, when I received this Mark, I received a place, no matter how wrong because for eighteen years I'd been ignored, battered, and left to myself in that misery. I saw no other way and I was given no other way, so I stopped looking for another way."

"So, if you did what you did for the same reason I have, why are you doing what everyone else does?" Harry asked. "Why are you keeping things from me?"

"Because I have seen what you do when you do have information, complete or not, and I do not want you putting yourself in danger," Snape told him.

"I don't matter!" Harry snapped.

"You do and not because of the prophecy," Snape snapped back and Harry looked at him with a slight frown. "You matter because you've been told you don't. I keep things from you because I don't want those things, this war and your role, to be the only reason you think you matter. I don't want you to act on information because you think you have to. I don't want you to think you are being ignored or left to perform some foolishly heroic act alone. I don't want you to think you are alone because you're not and you never have been. The right people just weren't there when you needed."

"Including you?" Harry said.

Snape gazed at him steadily. "Including me."

Harry sighed. "It's not the same as protecting me when you hide what I'm obviously involved in."

"It is when your reaction to such things is to leap into the bloody abyss without even trying to find a ledge."

"I'm always on a ledge, Professor, and people tend to push me off, telling me it's the way to go or leaving me to think it's the only way to go," Harry replied. "Like you and the Death Eaters."

"Well, I certainly don't want to be accused of pushing you off a ledge, metaphorical or not," Snape said with a hint of humour. "What would you propose?"

"Don't be like everyone else, not anymore, because I don't think you are," Harry told him. "I have to know what's going on because I can't keep living not knowing. You don't want me to think I'm alone? Fine, then don't make me feel alone. Tell me things. Treat me like Harry, not like the Chosen One. Hiding things makes me feel like nothing but the Chosen One because the Chosen One is only told what's needed based on everyone else's idea of what the Chosen One deserves to know. Tell me things because you think I deserve to know as Harry, a kid that's never deserved anything except a cupboard."

"You deserve more than a cupboard."

"Prove it."

Snape tilted his head almost curiously, searching for something in Harry though he had no idea what. "I will prove this if you prove to me that you can think before jumping."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Be the person that stops the jump then because no one else is going to."

Snape inclined his head. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Potter."

"'Harry'."

"When the occasion calls for it."

They both smirked at each other and eyes moved away. Both gazed around the now empty yard. A silence fell over them for a long while.

"You deserved more than the Death Eaters, too."

"I suppose we will never know."

"I know."

"How so?"

"Because you don't think you do."

Later that night, while the rest of the house slept, Harry remained wide awake. He lay in bed, staring through the dark at the necklace he held above him. Green ropes slithered through his fingers and around the pendant, but Harry hardly noticed, hypnotized by the silver octagon and snake set beneath the amber. There was something about it...he couldn't put it down, couldn't look away, couldn't put it from his mind. It was consuming, drew him into its depths, pulled at him in ways he couldn't explain. It was inviting, a darkness in which he belonged in ways he didn't understand.

He traced a finger over the engraved snake and rolled his head on his pillow the best he could, trying to roll his neck in response to the slick tendrils that slithered around his spine.

‘I see who you are.'

Who was he? He knew who he was according to everyone else: Potter, Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, fated saviour, James reincarnated. He knew who he wanted to be: just Harry, maybe someone's something. So, who was he?

‘I see what you are.'

What was he? He knew what he wasn't: brave, strong, smart, worthy, a saviour...happy...loved...wanted...

He dragged his fingertip along the pendant's edge, watching the amber glimmer under the green threads and not noticing the way the chain wrapped around his fingers tightened.

‘The darkness is where you belong.'

Was it? He certainly didn't belong anywhere else and he'd been in some kind of darkness for so long. Maybe the darkness, this darkness, was where he could find who he was. Maybe dark was what he was.

‘Give in...give up...'

Should he? The invisible tendrils sliding up and down his spine wrapped around his throat, making him roll his head again. The chain tightened some more, pinching his skin. The consuming darkness grew around him, inching him into its sweet depths.

‘You know you want to.'

Did he? He saw Ron's anger. He saw Hermione's fear. He saw Snape's hate. He saw Cedric fall. He saw Sirius float away.

"...neither can live while the other survives..."

"I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M DONE! I WANT IT TO END! JUST MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

He slipped a little further into the caressing darkness, tendrils around his neck and spine, chain cutting into his fingers, reasons to stay fading.

‘See what you are...see the darkness within...one of us...'

There was a tug and Harry sat up, feeling the need to follow the pendant's pull. He stood, continuing to stare at the necklace and following its guidance, the green strings reaching out ahead. The hallway was dark as was the library he crossed, coming to stand in front of the section of shelves that shimmered once again. He looked away from the pendant just long enough to pull the book out and trace his fingers over the carved ‘R.A.B' in the wood. As the shelves swung in, he slipped into the secret room. The air thrummed oddly and his shoulders tightened as he was pulled towards the items he'd left on the floor when he found the necklace.

He fell to his knees and instinctively grabbed the black tome.

‘See what you are...see us...'

He flipped the book open and spent the night's long hours reading about horcruxes. Tendrils slithered over him, the chain tightened on his fingers, the air thrummed around him, and his scar pulsed with a life he would soon learn was not his own.