When Seamus Finnigan’s potion exploded, hardly anyone even batted an eye except Slughorn. All the students had become accustomed to explosions when in a classroom with Seamus, so this time was nothing new. Harry and Ron chuckled while Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Harry turned his attention back to chopping his valerian root. His technique was still pretty rough, but he was far better at brewing under Slughorn than Snape. He chose to ignore the visions he’d had that showed Snape being a decent teacher and him being decent at brewing long before that year.

It had been over a week since he’d had a vision or dream. No strange feelings around anyone. It was like none of it had ever happened and the break had actually allowed everything to feel normal again. Everyone was still angry, but he had chosen, at least for the week, to believe that was because of Voldemort’s growing presence in the world. It was easier to believe that rather than pursue the idea that they were all being mind-controlled.

“Very good, Harry,” Slughorn praised as he examined Harry’s completed potion. “You’ve got some of your mother’s skill, that’s for sure.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up to the man. Slughorn knew his mother? In an instant, he was desperate for more, just like learning about Voldemort from Dumbledore. Just as he was about to say something else, Slughorn ended the class.

“That’s all for today, everyone,” Slughorn said. “Harry, might you stay for a moment?”

Harry looked at the man in surprise. Ron and Hermione gave him questioning glances and he shrugged, having no idea what Slughorn wanted. With a look, Ron and Hermione left the room, but he knew they were waiting just outside. He turned back to the professor.

“Have I done something, sir?” Harry asked.

“Oh, no, my boy, nothing like that,” Slughorn said with a laugh. “You are a special young man, Harry. You remind me a lot of dear Lily.”

Harry perked up again at the second mention of his mother.

“I like to get to know my students with amazing stories, and you certainly have an amazing story,” Slughorn said and Harry shifted, slightly uncomfortable with the allusion to his tragic past. He blinked when the professor was suddenly handing him a card of some kind. “I would like to invite you to my Christmas party. I used to hold one every year and I would invite all my remarkable students.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir,” Harry said, taken aback.

“Feel free to bring a special friend. We’ll have a nice dinner, get to know each other’s stories, and then some dancing and mingling,” Slughorn said, grinning. He was obviously thrilled to get Harry Potter at his party.

Normally, Harry would be embarrassed and annoyed about being included in something purely because of being the Boy Who Lived, but he was recognizing the opportunity being provided. Slughorn knew his mother and this party could allow him to talk more to the man.

“Thank you for the invitation, Professor,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Slughorn said excitedly, clapping his hands together. “On your way now, my boy.”

Harry nodded and left the room, rejoining Ron and Hermione who were waiting as expected. He showed and explained the professor’s party invitation as they headed up to the Great Hall for dinner. Ron was slightly disgusted about the concept of the party, but Hermione was intrigued about the people Harry could meet.

They were about to enter the Great Hall when Harry noticed a familiar figure staring at a painting that was no longer moving. He realized he hadn’t spoken to Luna at all that year, and instantly felt bad. She had been there for him last year despite not knowing him and even followed him to the Ministry on blind faith. She had become a good friend and he knew she didn’t have many of those.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Harry told Ron and Hermione. They nodded and entered the Hall without him as he turned to walk towards Luna.

Her hair hung in messy waves down her back, pinned back with a radish clip to match her radish earrings. She wore a slightly garish yellow knit sweater with a pink checkered skirt and her school-issued black shoes. She had her usual serene expression, but he thought he could see a tightness as well in her eyes. She turned to him with a gentle smile.

“Hello, Harry.”

He smiled back. “Hi, Luna. How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t really talked to you this year.”

“It’s alright. It’s been a difficult year. There’s a shadow over the school,” Luna said and Harry noticed her face become slightly sad. So, she had felt it too.

“Yeah, Voldemort’s made things hard,” Harry agreed.

“I don’t think it’s him,” Luna said and Harry looked at her curiously. “It’s a different darkness.”

Harry couldn’t help but agree. He had been around Voldemort several times and, while some things felt similar, it was a different experience. It was one of the many things that poked holes in the theory that it was Voldemort that had cast the possible Mind Magic. It wasn’t his style.

“There’s something wrong with Hogwarts,” Luna said, looking back at the frozen picture. “She’s in pain. All of us are.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“Something is breaking and it’s hurting us all, even her.” Luna put her palm on the wall just under the painting.

Harry was about to ask her to expand, but they were interrupted by a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors approaching them.

“Fraternizing with another house, Potter? And the resident lunatic of all people?” a Gryffindor he only knew slightly sneered at him.

“Watch it, jerk,” one of the Ravenclaws snapped. “You don’t get to talk about anyone from our house like that.”

The Gryffindor stepped up to the Ravenclaw, leaving them chest to chest. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Hey, enough,” Harry said, putting a hand on the Gryffindor’s arm only to be slapped away with a glare.

“Don’t think you get a say, traitor.”

Harry frowned at the insult and malice. There was the amplified anger effecting everyone that year.

“We’re just talking,” Harry said. “We’re friends.”

“No, she’s an enemy,” the Gryffindor growled. “Maybe we need to remind you where your loyalties should be.”

Harry glared, taking a step back and feeling his own anger quickly build up.

“Return to your crazy magazine, Loony,” a Ravenclaw sneered at Luna.

“Leave her alone,” Harry snapped, gaining hateful looks from the Ravenclaws.

“Or what?” the Ravenclaw taunted.

Harry pulled his wand, hoping it would be enough of a threat. Sadly, it didn’t faze the other students as they chuckled, but without humour.

“What’s wrong, Potter? Afraid to get your hands dirty?” the Gryffindor said. “Didn’t seem that way during Quidditch.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Think we’re not worthy opponents?” the Ravenclaw said.

The Gryffindor scoffed. “What’re you going to do? Recite facts at us?”

The Gryffindors laughed and Harry was shocked when the Ravenclaw swung, his fist catching the Gryffindor in the cheek. After that, it was as though a whistle had been blown, marking the start to their fight. Harry ducked as another Ravenclaw threw a punch at him. His anger boiled up and he threw himself into the fight, doing what damage he could to a Ravenclaw.

“What are you doing?”

Harry stopped immediately, recognizing the voice. He closed his eyes in regret of being caught by Snape only to cry out and stumble at the hard punch landing on his mouth, splitting his lip.

“Jones, Carring, Dina! To Professor Flitwick immediately,” Snape demanded. “Plaisey, Matthews, Avony. To Professor McGonagall.”

“But, sir, what about P—”

“Now, Matthews!” Snape shouted.

Having finally cleared the spots from his vision, Harry watched the others stomp past him, casting glares at him and Luna.

“To dinner, Miss Lovegood, if you are unharmed,” Snape said, his tone calming.

“Yes, sir,” Luna said. “Thank you, Harry.” She touched his arm lightly before hurrying into the Great Hall.

Harry nodded at her with a small smile, wincing at the pain it caused in his lip. He touched it with a couple fingertips, wincing again at the blood on them. He looked at Snape with a sigh, knowing full well why he hadn’t been sent to McGonagall with the others. Snape had to take pleasure in tormenting him when he could.

Any remotely positive feelings he’d had towards the man had disappeared in the nearly two weeks that had passed since he went to Snape for help, replaced by his age-old hatred.

“Potter, did you learn nothing from your previous involvement in a fight?” Snape snapped.

“Guess not,” Harry snapped back. He was distracted by the image suddenly before him.

Snape stared down at a twelve-year-old Harry, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“I couldn’t do nothing, Professor,” Harry argued. “He called Hermione a Mudblood.”

Snape sighed. “I commend your loyalty to your friend and your willingness to defend her. However, physically assaulting Mr. Malfoy is not the way.”

Harry dropped his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Gonna be hard, though, his face is just so punchable.”

“Potter,” Snape admonished.

“Sorry,” Harry said.

Snape rolled his eyes before gently grasping Harry’s chin and raising his head, healing the cut over Harry’s eyes.

“Pay attention, Potter!”

Harry jumped and shook himself, looking back at the real professor in front of him. “Sorry, sir.”

“Detention with me, tomorrow night.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, sir.”

He was severely startled when Snape suddenly reached out and gently grasped his chin, just like in the vision. Confused and overcome by strange emotions, he just watched as Snape raised his wand and healed his split lip. He expected the man to release him the second his lip was healed, but the gentle hold lasted a second longer than was needed as their eyes remained connected. Then, the strange moment was broken as Snape let go and pulled up his cold expression.

“Get to dinner, Potter.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, still in disbelief at what had just happened as he watched Snape sweep away, presumably to use the staff entrance to the Hall. Harry blinked as though in a daze before making himself move and enter the Great Hall himself as instructed. He sat with Ron and Hermione, still staring ahead blankly as he replayed the moment again and again in his mind.

“Harry?”

He was pulled from his disbelief and his gaze moved to Hermione. She was looking at him curiously.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, piling some food onto his plate. She just stared at him, obviously not fully believing him. “Promise, I’m fine. Just dumb fighting with some Ravenclaws and Gryffindors because I was talking to Luna.”

She shook her head and returned to her dinner. Harry ignored his annoyance at her obvious disapproval and dug into his duck breast, for once savouring the relative silence of the Hall, no matter how tense. He couldn’t stop thinking about Snape and the moment between them. He couldn’t believe Snape had willingly touched him and done so with such kindness, and he had even more disbelief in himself for allowing and accepting it. There was something there, something between them that they didn’t remember.

He was pulled, once again, from his thoughts along with everyone else as a low, loud moan echoed through the Hall. Several students looked up from their food and around, trying to find the source of the sound. Harry felt a pulse in the air, but, when nothing else happened, the curious people brushed it off and continued eating. Only a second later, the moan echoed again, louder this time, and accompanied by a rumble that rattled the plates and goblets on the tables. Gasps were heard throughout the Hall at the shaking of the castle.

Harry looked up to the ceiling just in time to see a few floating candles lose their flame and drop, landing on the tables, including one directly beside his plate. Startled cries rang out as about a dozen candles fell. Harry stared at the candle in front of him in his own shock before looking up at the head table. All of the professors seemed just as surprised and startled as the students, all except one. Dumbledore had a different expression, one resembling angry shock, and Harry frowned as the headmaster pushed away from the table roughly and swept from the Hall.

All kinds of ideas and realizations rushed into his mind and he turned back to his friends.

“There’s something we haven’t considered,” Harry said, gaining puzzled looks from Ron and Hermione. “Say our theory is right and the school has Mind Magic over it. That explains the weirdness with the students, the visions, the fighting, all of that, but it doesn’t explain this.” He picked up the fallen candle.

Ron and Hermione gazed at him, not speaking but clearly thinking.

“Mind Magic wouldn’t be causing the castle to fall apart,” Harry said. “I asked Dumbledore about it a little bit ago. He said it was just the source of Hogwarts’ magic needing a touch-up, but what if the two things are connected?”

“What do you mean?" Ron asked.

“What if Voldemort was and still is using Hogwarts’ magic to sustain the Mind Magic? But, obviously, there is a limit to Hogwarts’ magic. So, the more Voldemort uses, the more it drains, causing the castle to break down, and, because he doesn’t have enough magic anymore, the Mind Magic is also failing.”

“It does make a lot of sense and explains pretty much everything,” Hermione said.

“Okay, so, let’s say that’s what’s going on,” Ron said. “What do we do about it?”

“We need to break Voldemort’s hold on the school,” Harry said. “I think we need to find the source of Hogwarts’ magic. I think, with that, we might be able to…untangle Voldemort’s magic from Hogwarts’.”

“How do we do…any of that?” Ron asked, skeptical.

Harry sighed. “That I’m not too sure about.”

“Research to start,” Hermione said and Ron groaned, making her roll her eyes and Harry chuckle.

“Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?” Snape said, looking up from his desk at the blonde student. He wasn’t quite in the mood to deal with the spoiled Malfoy offspring, not after the strange and, quite frankly, overwhelming evening.

“I need you to do your mind reading thing on me,” Malfoy said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I assume you mean Legilimency which you know full well is not ‘mind reading’.”

“Yeah, that,” Malfoy said, sounding desperate. “I need you to do it on me.”

“And why would I do that?” Snape said. “It is inappropriate and I am not permitted to do such a thing on a student.”

“I think I’ve been cursed,” Malfoy said. “That or I’m crazy.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed. “Malfoy, sit down and explain yourself.”

Malfoy sat in the chair in front of Snape’s desk, but he remained fidgety and wild-eyed. Snape stared at him, waiting.

“I’ve been…seeing things,” Malfoy admitted.

Snape’s stare sharpened. “What kinds of things?”

“Flashes, images of conversations and events and interactions that have never happened with people I have never associated with,” Malfoy said. “Also, a woman in strange dreams who never speaks.”

Snape leaned forward. “Tell me about one of these…visions.”

“After the Quidditch match, in the Hospital Wing. I touched Potter and I saw me and him in the infirmary together, talking and laughing, after the match in second year with the rogue bludger,” Malfoy described. “But, that didn’t happen! I’ve been cursed, must’ve been.”

“These visions, are they followed by headaches?”

Malfoy frowned. “Yes, how did you—”

“You are not alone in your experience, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said. “I take it you have also felt things when touching some individuals as well as fluctuating emotions towards individuals?”

Malfoy nodded, stunned. “What is it?”

“The reigning theory is Mind Magic, but, beyond that, I know nothing else.”

“Mind Magic?” Malfoy repeated. “So, what do we do?”

“That is something else I am uncertain of,” Snape said. “Mind Magic is extremely dangerous and this is powerful, given that it is effecting an entire school.”

“So, what? We just live like this, waiting to drop into comas like a few already have?”

“I must do some research,” Snape said. “You are not the only one experiencing these things, nor are you the only one that has come to me for help. All I can tell you is to be careful. Do not chase these visions. Putting pressure on the Mind Magic’s barrier is what can cause a coma.”

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy agreed. “Why would anyone use Mind Magic on everyone in Hogwarts?”

“I do not know.”