(A/N the chapters for this fic will likely be short till I get some proper inspiration.)

I never thought I could feel condemned, I never thought I could feel all your sin.
I can feel your madness now, I can feel your fire now, It's what I burn for, It's what I bleed for.
I feel exposed, I feel disgraced, I feel a whole new kind of hate, Someone please tell me what I'm supposed to do, 'Cause you hate me but I love you.
I can feel your madness now, I can feel your fire now, It's what I burn for, It's what I aim for, It's what I bleed for.
I would die for you.

"Ron! Would you just- could you please stop doing that?" Harry snapped, his head in his hands.

"Whut?" The red head responded, oblivious to the Boy Who Lived's headache. He was tapping his fork on the table in the great hall, while they were waiting for dessert. Harry's nerves had been shot all day, thanks to the aching brain he'd woken up with.

Hermione was sitting across from them, frowning.

Harry bit his lip and held in the urge to start shouting.

"Your fork," He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh," The red head put the fork gently on the table and Harry gave him a half smile as a thank you. He wasn't sure why it was bothering him so much, the hall was full to the brim with noise, as it always was.

It wasn't as if Ron's fork really made it that much more unbearable. But it did.

The Headmaster was watching Harry closely from the staff table. It had been three days since the second letter, and it seemed as though the young man's temper was only getting worse.

Severus had said the curse could take anywhere up to a month to reach its full potency. But it could be less.

Dumbledore now had the full faculty of Hogwarts researching how to put a stop to it. So far, nothing.

Though it had only been a few days, the dread in his mind was reaching a fever pitch. Harry's attitude towards his friends was on the decline. Not noticeably so, not if you weren't watching for it. But he had been hoping it would be at least weeks before these signs came to fruition.

No such luck, it seemed.

As it was, Dumbledore predicted that it would only be another two weeks, tops, before Harry shunned them all.

And not long after that, he would seek out his enemies, and all would be lost.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked for the millionth time.

"No, I told you. I feel terrible," Harry responded, rubbing his temples and wanting to jam his head between his knees. He would have liked to go to bed, but it was too early, and that would only send Hermione on a 'What's wrong with the Boy Wonder today?' quest.

"You still got that headache, mate?" Ron asked, the potions textbook on his lap sliding to the floor, forgotten at least half an hour before.

"Yeah," The Boy Who Lived replied, even though he felt like snapping about pointing out the obvious.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?" The bushy haired girl said.

He'd had enough of the hospital wing for a lifetime. He shook his head no, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

There was one thing he wanted to talk about, though.

"Hermione…" He began, and she seemed to instantly know what he wanted, because she waved her arms and shook her head vehemently.

"Professor Dumbledore said-" She started to say the same thing she always did, but Harry stood up so fast it stunned her into silence.

"I don't care what he said! I want to know! Whose side are you on, anyway?!" He shouted, then he clamped his mouth shut, forming a thin line.

"We're all on the same side, Harry," She said quietly. He ignored that and continued to stare at her. Everyone that was in the common room with them was staring, which only served to fuel the fire in his gut.

"What?!" He yelled at them, and they promptly pretended to be doing something else. Hermione was white in the face and Ron was looking at the two of them like their legs had suddenly detached.

"I think we need to go and see the headmaster," She said in the same whispery tone. She stood up before he could object, and Ron followed her lead.

Harry bit his tongue and walked behind his two friends out the portrait hole.

"Professor, I- we, wanted to know. Um." Hermione began, stuttering. The headmaster was watching the three of them with careful eyes. Harry was still behind them, glaring at the floor.

"I mean, I think that maybe the letter that Harry received," She waved her right hand around while she tried to figure out what she wanted to say.

"What was in the letter?" Harry interrupted, annoyed. He stepped forward so that he was the closest to Dumbledore.

"Ahh, Harry-"

"When you say my name with that tone I know what you're going to do," Harry warned, not wanting to be placated with more 'Don't worrie's' and 'it's fine's'.

"I think that the letter wasn't a joke, professor. I think it was real." Hermione said, finally finding her voice.

"And what did it say?!" Harry demanded, falling just short of stomping his foot.

"Take a seat, Harry." Dumbledore said, giving a sharp nod to his friends. They both left, though he could see that Ron was confused and wanted to stay.

"I wanted to wait, in case we found a way to stop it," His voice was grave and Harry sat up in his seat, sensing that he was about to hear some bad news.

"What did it say," He said again, less annoyed and more concerned.

'May your hatred turn to lust in your chest. May all you fear become all you want. May those you love become those you most despise. May you only find solace at the side of your enemy. May all you hold dear turn to ash by your own hands. May you happily burn every bridge you've ever built.' Dumbledore told him as if he was reciting it from a book.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, letting it sink in. Every passing second gave way to a new kind of terror, making his gut wrench so much that he felt like he was going to throw up.

"And it's real. It's not a prank." Harry asked, though he already knew that much. Even if the Headmaster hadn't hinted at it, he could feel it.

The way his friends annoyed him lately, so much that he wanted, most times, to sneak away from them and hide.

"That can't happen. It can't. Can it?"

Dumbledore gave no answer.

"But you said the wards were secure! You said I was fine!" He was trying not to get mad at him, trying to force it down, because he knew now that it wasn't simply anger growing in his mind.

"Who sent it?" He ground out, before the Headmaster could say anything about the wards and annoy Harry further.

"We're not certain. But we believe it to be a woman. A woman who means you harm and isn't afraid to go to extreme lengths." He said it in a way that made him think he had an idea, and so did he.

"Bellatrix." He said, his eyes wide and his fists clenched.

He was sure it was her. There was no doubt in his mind. His professor gave a small nod to indicate that he thought so too.

"How do I stop it?" He asked, but before the question was out of his mouth he remembered the old man's earlier words. "I wanted to wait, just in case we found a way to stop it,"

"You don't know," Harry answered for him, slumping in his seat. The headmaster shook his head sadly.

"How long?"

"A month, if we are fortunate."

Harry stood and walked out the door before he could start throwing things around. A month. It'd already almost been a week.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him in the common room, and the both of them stood up when he entered.

"What happened?" The bushy haired

girl asked, her eyes wide. Harry walked right by them, heading up the stairs to his dormitory.

"It was real." He shouted down the stairs. He'd let Hermione fill Ron in. She likely would. He didn't feel like talking about it right then.

Instead he collapsed into his bed and drew the curtains shut, forcing his eyes closed and his mind blank.

The next morning the sight of his friends didn't bring him joy.

It didn't bring him anger, either, so at least that wasn't happening yet.

What it brought him was exhaustion. Exhaustion at the thought of what they would be talking about all day, all week, and all month, until he had enough of them entirely.

Another save Harry mission. Hit the books and find the answer that the authority figures are somehow blind to. Save him, save the world.

One step at a time.

Not that Harry didn't want to stop what was likely to happen to him. Far from it. Just the thought of another hurdle so soon after the last dragged his soul down in a way that it never had before.

He was dejected.

"How are you mate?" Ron asked, a scowl on his face that told Harry he'd been completely filled in the night before.

Good. At least he didn't need to do it himself.

"Uhh." Was his answer. He didn't know whether to say, 'Awful and I'd really rather just go back to bed and pretend this isn't happening. How are you?' Or, 'Gee, just fantastic, anyone for a round of library scouring?'

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore wasn't in his office for this conversation, which was unusual. He was standing by the lake, Severus by his side, both competing for the title of 'most grim looking.'

"It is old magic. Any information of reversing the curse has likely been lost. With this kind of magic, the only sure way to break it is the death of the caster."

Dumbledore nodded, looking away from Snape and over to the water.

"Assuming we could even find her, would you be willing to make that choice?" The defence professor asked, his eyes following the headmasters over the lake.

"What choice do I have, Severus? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, or Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Ugh I'm so tired," Ron whined, burying his face in the book in front of him. Hermione had, as Harry had assumed, forced them into the library right after breakfast. She had proclaimed that they were lucky that it was a Saturday, so they could spend all day there.

The youngest male Weasley had openly groaned at this, which offended Harry, but he had ultimately stayed with them throughout the day and well into the night.

"It's curfew soon," Hermione said, placating him.

They'd found nothing.

Not a single thing pertaining to the curse, how it was done or how to stop it.

Harry didn't think the headmaster would be having much luck either. He'd decided that if this letter had slipped past the wards, then the old man wouldn't exactly be versed about it. He would know as much as Harry himself did.

Which was nothing.

He gritted his teeth and stood up. Though it was another half hour till lights out, he didn't sense a phenomenal breakthrough coming on. Ron followed his lead but Hermione stayed in her seat, barely acknowledging their leaving.

It was Monday and first up was defence with the Slytherins. Ron openly whined all the way to class, and though Harry shared his dislike for the Slytherins, thankfully, he was irritated by his insistent sooking.

He wished that the red head would just accept things the way they were.

There wasn't about to be a school wide notice that all the Slytherins were being sent to hell.

So why bother fighting it?

Harry sat in his usual seat and Ron and Hermione flanked him, moving their desks closer to him. Like a neon sign that the golden boy was vulnerable.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat but resisted the urge to get up and sit elsewhere.

It was only ten minutes into class before Malfoy started something.

"Hey Weaselby, I like your robes. Where'd you get them, your mom's rag drawer?" All the Slytherins in the room cackled, and Snape kept on talking as if he didn't hear a thing.

Harry was staring at the far wall, hoping it would just blow over.

"What, not taking the bait today, Ronikins?" Malfoy cooed, and Ron started frowning harder.

"I gave you a compliment, it's rude to ignore me." He continued.

"Shut up Malfoy," Ron growled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your robes." He nudged Goyle in the ribs and laughed.

"Still better than yours!" The Weasley shouted in return, drawing Snape's attention.

"He's right," Harry muttered, his head in his hands as he stared at Snape disinterestedly.

"Yeah," Ron said, thinking Harry was talking about him.

"No, not you. Malfoy's right. Your robes suck." He said, then sat up straight when he heard himself. Malfoy and the Slytherins that heard him made a collective "Oooo" Sound.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean that." He said quickly, standing up and making to leave the room. He gave a pause to see if Snape would stop him, when he didn't, he left.

He needed to clear his head and direct his anger at something else.