Hey guys, chapter two is up and the plot is slowly developing. However, there are a couple of things I feel I need to clear up. Harry is in his sixth year and my story does not correspond exactly with the books. Harry has spent his summer with the Dursley's and not with Ron at the Burrow. Dumbledore did not try on the cursed ring and therefore, is not injured and Professor Slughorn will be showing up in later chapters to fill in for Professor Snape while he is away with Harry. All cleared up? I hope so. Enjoy...

Harry awoke suddenly, a scream stuck in his throat and sweat beading along his forehead. Adrenaline pumped through his body, fierce and fiery, forcing his heart to beat frantically against his rib cage.

"Harry! Harry!" Someone shook him, even tapped his cheek with enough force to sting. His eyes were wide; he could feel the skin around them stretched tight as he looked around frantically. God, something was wrong, something was going to happen, but in his panic, he couldn't remember what it was.

"Harry, what's going on? Are you alright?" He finally recognized Ron's voice and the familiar grip in which he held the collar of his pyjamas. He tried so swallow his panic and brushed Ron off, there wasn't time, no time, something was going to happen.

"Ron, I-I need to find a teacher, need to tell them, tell them…" What was it? What was he supposed to tell them? God, no, what a time to forget something so important!

"Harry, calm down, mate, you're making no sense."

"No. Ron, listen to me!" Harry sat up abruptly, pushing past Ron and grabbing his glasses. "Something's changed, a change of plan… I-I can't remember, no, it's going to happen here, I think." He shook his head repeatedly, untidy black hair swinging in front of his eyes. At the pained look on his friend's face, Ron quickly threw on his robe and dashed for the door with a chorus of, "Be right back," before he ran down the staircase.

Harry clutched his bed sheets tight in his hands until his knuckles whitened. He groaned quietly and, as the adrenaline started to fade, he began to realize just how much his scar hurt. It burned with a prickling ferocity that left a throbbing ache in his head. Why couldn't he remember? It seemed that every time he tried to recall the dream it faded farther into his buried memories so that he could barely recall pieces of conversations and fuzzy scenarios. He waited in the silence of his dorm room for Ron to return, his roommates stared at him quizzically, albeit a little frightened, but made no move to comfort him. The only other person in the room who seemed even remotely to care was Neville. He sat upon his bed and stared at Harry, indecision clearly written on his face. He seemed confused, but not in the way the other boys did. He knew Neville was only conflicted because he wanted to help, but was concerned of Harry's reaction.

Harry could only blame himself, for he would yell or snap at anyone who tried comforting him after such dreams. Finally, after what seemed to take hours but were really only minutes, the door opened once again to admit a disgruntled looking and sleep ridden Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter? What is it?" She asked briskly, her face wiped clean of any weariness as she took in the boy's pale face, the dark circles under his eyes and his fidgeting hands. "Should I call upon Al- the Headmaster?" She inquired briefly before strutting over to the boy's side, noticing only now, how he jumped and twitched continuously.

"I-I don't know, Professor." Harry mentally cursed himself for sounding like such a child but it couldn't be avoided, his memory simply wouldn't allow it.

"Well, whatever has gotten you so worked up, Mr. Potter, seems to be important. You should go see Poppy, she will be able to help—"

"No, Professor, I mean. Sorry, I just…" He calmed himself, tried to still his trembling fingers and tried again, frustrated at his lack of communication.

"It's quite alright, try again," McGonagall encouraged, her eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown.

"Something's going on with Voldemort; I think the Headmaster should know… I just, can't remember exactly what it is…" he trailed off, realizing how entirely stupid he sounded. He cursed himself again and gritted his teeth. Why was he always so incompetent? God, wouldn't his Uncle laugh now, knowing how utterly ridiculous he sounded?

"I shall fetch the Headmaster, none of you mo—" she was cut off by the sound of Harry's scream. The boy doubled over in pain, cradling his head in his hands and pulled on his hair, eyes tight shut. Snippets of pictures ran before his eyes, Voldemort was cursing a follower, a round circle of Death Eaters advanced through a forest, black cloaks, so many black cloaks and white masks. However, there was a feeling anger mixed with triumph, he felt it tingle along his skin and he knew the anticipation belonged not to his own mind, but one that was much darker.

A hand grabbed his wrist and his mind cleared for a moment, enough for his ears to catch the words of his Professor.

"Go! Fetch Professor Dumbledore, I'll call upon Professor Snape…" His own furious thinking drowned out the sound of her voice. Professor Snape? Why him? What good could the man possibly do in this situation? He didn't have a chance to think long before his mind flooded once again with images and snippets of thoughts that definitely didn't belong to him.

Minerva glanced at her student anxiously and tried her best to comfort him. With one quick flick of her wand, her patronus appeared and she relayed her message. Severus would know what to do, she was sure. If nothing else, the man could bring with him some pain relievers and perhaps help the boy decipher what he was so intent on remembering.

Harry finally slumped against her as she sat next to him on the bed. His breathing was laboured and he shook visibly.

"Why are the images so fuzzy?" Harry asked himself quietly, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room. It just didn't make sense, normally, the visions were accurate and fluent to a point where he believed it to be himself giving out orders or cursing a muggle or follower. These snippets and fuzzy images were nothing like what he normally experienced with Voldemort. It felt as though hours went by and all he could see were flickering pictures, like a high frequency radio, but nothing he could truly make out. To make matters worse, he could hear people in his dorm room, talking about him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He was stuck between his nightmare and his own reality, both of which were fuzzy and incomprehensible.

He took a deep breath to steady himself when a rough hand grabbed his arm and staggered him into a standing position. The fingers curled around his bicep and he winced. Those fingers had grabbed onto a spot his Uncle Vernon had yanked him by just the day before arriving at Hogwarts. So caught up with the pain in his scar, he had momentarily forgotten about the injuries he had sustained during the summer at the hands of his relatives.

"You're hurting him!" He heard Ron yell, obviously back from his little excursion with no Dumbledore in sight, and suddenly his scar felt like it had exploded, his skin stretched tight over his forehead as his scar seared with red-hot pain. Harry screamed, or at least he thought he did and bit his tongue, willing himself not to cry out and the last thing he was aware of was the salty tang of blood in his mouth and a desperate shout of, "Occlumency, Potter!", before his world went black.

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Snape had been sleeping; in fact, he was so tired his mind had finally overcome the nightmares and let him rest. That is, until Minerva's patronus landed itself on his lap. Startled awake, Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it within seconds and the wispy glow of a tabby cat.

"Severus," the mouth pronounced, imitating Minerva's voice with a hint of panic. "Mr. Potter's in need of help, bring any potions you deem necessary to deal with his…visions. We are in the dorm rooms." Groaning in frustration, Severus lifted himself quickly form his chair and winced as his muscles twitched, unhappy to have been frozen in such an awkward position while he slept. Damn Potter! His one good night of rest was going to be ruined!

He quickly stalked over to his potion's cabinet, ignoring the way his eyes tried to droop shut and selected some pain relievers, some dreamless sleep potions and a new variety he had been tampering with, a mind stress reliever. It was like a calming draught but for a weary or over burdened consciousness. And of course, his most expensive potions were to be wasted on the Potter brat, again. The thought was bitter and held no amount of guilt. He didn't especially care for the insufferbale brat's comfort nor his peace of mind.

Snape was relieved to note his shaking had ceased and swept out of the dungeons, he ran pale fingers through his greasy hair and pulled them away, his face souring slightly disgusted. It really didn't matter how much he washed his hair, it never seemed to clean properly. After several minutes of climbing, Snape finally found himself near the highest of towers and pushed open the fat ladies portrait after having repeated the password. Suddenly, he grew faintly anxious as he heard a commotion coming from the top of the stairs. With a scowl placed firmly upon his face, he straightened his robes and hurried up the boy's staircase. Leave it up to Potter to wake the whole bloody castle!

Wrenching the door open, he strode in and took in his surroundings. Minerva had the boy up against her side while the rest of the children stared at Potter, all with pale, slightly panicked expressions.

"Minerva?" He called, his voice ever the epitome of boredom. She turned her head quickly in his direction and he fought the urge not to smirk at her choice of night time attire. She wore a very long flowered robe and her long, silvery gray hair was down in complete disarray.

"Severus, come, come, Mr. Potter isn't even answering me anymore." Her voice shook with tremors of anxiousness but he remained unconvinced at Potter's apparent distress. Probably seeking attention, just like his lousy father. Snape kept his face blank, although he wanted so desperately to sneer; just the thought of James Potter had his teeth gritting.

Minerva watched Snape impatiently as he stared at her, face impassive. His eyes burned black and dark against the paleness of his skin, sunken in their tiredness. She quickly noticed he wasn't wearing his usual black attire, instead, he wore slightly wrinkled Death Eater robes.

"Fall asleep in those, have we?" she quipped, if only to get the man to move. She watched as his lip curled into a usual snarl and thanked the heavens for a reaction.

"For heaven's sake, Severus, I need your help!" She pleaded, all traces of teasing gone. Severus finally focused his eyes on Potter but could only see the back of his head were a black mop of hair sat in a dishevelled mess. He fought the urge to sneer once again as the black mop of hair unnerved him to no end. He walked into the room briskly, the burning of his charcoal eyes the only hint of his irritation, and knelt in front of the boy in question. He stared up into emerald eyes, slightly glazed over and heard the boy murmuring.

"Why is the boy speaking gibberish? Although, I admit it is not unusual for a Potter…" he trailed off and looked up at Minerva, not even successful enough to get a rise out of her.

"He's been saying nonsense ever since I arrived, he speaks rarely in complete sentences and does not respond when asked questions." Minerva sighed, shifted Harry beside her and refocused her attention on Snape.

"Potter!" He attempted, but as Minerva had pointed out, the boy simply did not react. "Has he said anything useful?" Seeing as it was Potter, he doubted it, but he must be sure.

"Yes, he mentioned something about needing to speak with Albus, but couldn't remember exactly what it was that he had to tell him." He glanced her way and his eyes hardened. Blasted boy! Of course, he would be the one to receive an important piece of information just to forget it.

Suddenly, a bounding head of red hair came tumbling into the room, interrupting Snape's reverie, face pale and a little damp.

"Professor Dumbledore isn't here," Ron said, breathing heavily, and paled a considerable amount upon seeing his most hated professor.

"Weasley, I suggest you make yourself useful for once in your miserable life, and explain Potter's theatrics," Snape sneered, his voice holding nothing but contempt that had Ron scurrying to his best friend's side, putting himself a distasteful distance closer to his potions master.

"Uh, he was having a nightmare."

"I thank you, Weasley, for pointing out the obvious," Snape snapped sarcastically, his eyes merciless in their scrutiny. "If you'd use the other half of your apparent lack of sense, perhaps your little friend's condition could be aided and this whole ordeal could be dealt with. Try. Again."

Ron stared at his head of house in disbelief but she only stared at him expectantly. Other than giving his potions master a rebuking glare, she seemed to be in agreement.

"Well, he started screaming, like usual, and uh- he, well, said something about plans changing…" he trailed off, embarrassed at his rambling but his teachers seemed unconvinced.

"Anything else, Mr. Weasley?" Minerva asked him before Snape's sharp tongue could lash out at the boy again.

"He said that whatever's happening, is going to happen here. He said there was a change of plans, or something, and that he had to tell a teacher." Ron fidgeted, his whole frame emanating waves of uneasiness under such scrutiny. "He also said he couldn't remember exactly what was going on," he added as if the more he talked, the faster his teachers would be willing to leave him in peace.

Severus felt himself pale as the dimwitted boy continued his babbling. A change of plans? No, he couldn't possibly mean… He had to contact Albus, or they were going to be in serious trouble. Wait, what had the boy said as he entered? 'Professor Dumbledore isn't here', his mind replayed the redhead's entrance repeatedly in his mind, churning it around in his thoughts as if the words would hold new meaning to them if he thought about it long enough. Of course Albus would be missing on such an occasion! Where could he be?

"Enough." He silenced the boy with a wave of his hand. Impatient, he grabbed Harry's upper arm. The boy needed to talk. Harry's rambling suddenly stopped, his eyes cleared for a moment, and Snape pulled the boy roughly to his feet, hoping to break his stupor. What he hadn't expected was the boy to wince horribly, his eyes wide with pain.

"You're hurting him!" Ron yelled and made to leap in between them just as Harry screamed again. His voice echoed, raw and horrific, off the dorm walls and he collapsed against his professor, his eyes screwed shut and his hands clutching desperately at his scar. Suddenly the screaming stopped for several heart stopping moments and Snape watched as the beginnings of blood dripped from the boys closed mouth.

"Occlumency, Potter!" He barked and lifted the boy, but he was limp in his arms.

"He knows..." Was all the boy had time enough to whisper before slumping, a dead weight. Unconscious.

A-N: Alright, chap two is complete and I'll hopefully have chapter three up either tomorrow or wednesday. Thanks to those who reviewed my last chapter, it was greatly appreciated and I hope to hear from you again! Thanks, Please leave a review, they always help me or at the very least, keep me motviated! Thanks again!