A/N: So, a lot of times passes in this chapter, because the big stuff starts happening after Christmas, but . . . yeah. A lot of the back scenes from the 5th book are still happening, too, even if Harry isn't seeing them as Tristan. A third year Slytherin, even if he's Snape's son, is not really much to talk about in most Hogwarts' students' lives, except . . . well, the Ravenclaws. Probably best to make a mental note . . . don't make Ravenclaws angry. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Feel free to let me know if you do.

Chapter 6 – Nightmares

The next few weeks were a bit better. Snape seemed to be avoiding him, which was perfectly fine with Harry, and Harry tried to pay more attention to how he prepared his potions ingredients. There were a few potions, though, that no matter how sure he was that he brewed it right, it still wasn't good enough for Snape.

This morning, Harry stumbled out of the dorm room into the common room to find a crowd of Slytherins surrounding the notice board. Wyatt was standing near the back of the crowd and he went to his friend. "What's going on?" Harry asked, wondering if there was a big event going on.

"Umbridge declared a decree that doesn't allow any school clubs or anything unless they've got special permission from her," he answered, looking miffed, and Harry tried to think if he remembered the boy saying anything about being in a club.

"I"ll bet you anything Potter's friends had something to do with this," Harry heard one of the older Slytherins say. "I heard there was a meeting of some sort in Hogsmeade."

Harry tried to tune out the rest of that conversation, trying not to think about what Ron and Hermione were up to. If the decree was anything to go by, and it was Ron and Hermione, Harry guessed it might have something to do about how awful Defense Against The Dark Arts classes were this year with Umbridge. He wasn't sure what they were learning in fifth year, but third year was completely useless. He was glad he remembered what Professor Lupin had taught him.

Ron and Hermione, from what he could tell, were getting on fine without him. He had sent them a few letters, which went through Dumbledore, and they replied quickly, asking him to come back, but rumors were that Ron had gotten Keeper, and Ginny had gotten Seeker, and now . . . well, who knew what they were up to? Harry toed the rug, annoyed. He had been avoiding the quidditch games, not wanting to watch if he couldn't play.

Lucas came up behind them, not seeming to care about the crowd. "Come on, let's go to breakfast. Don't want to be hungry during potions." Harry followed them down to the Great Hall. The talk about the last Hogsmeade weekend reminded him that he still needed to ask Snape to sign the permission slip for him. Snape hadn't said a word about it last time, and Harry had been afraid to ask. The man would probably say no, anyway.

Harry started hanging out with Wyatt and Lucas more than the other boys, but they all seemed to get along alright, and Harry had to admit that being in Slytherin wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. He also hadn't run into Hermione or Ron or any of the other Weasleys that entire time, so that was a bit of a relief for him.

The Ravenclaws, on the other hand, were persistent. They seemed to have something personal against Harry, and if he hadn't been careful – and lucky – he would have found himself in a fair bit of trouble. Once, he found himself diverted down a corridor that spewed some sort of liquid from a vase at the same moment Filch's cat came from the opposite direction; another time, someone had thrown an illusion on a staircase that had moved, so he thought it was still there, and had he not tripped and dropped his bag onto the empty space, he would have fallen two floors. He wasn't exactly sure what to do, because the one time he tried to bring it up to Snape, the man told him he had no proof it was them and to ignore them.

Ignore them. As if he wasn't trying to do that already.

"We should prank them," Wyatt had told him during breakfast. "I have a book of jinxes and stuff that I brought from home. We should come up with a plan."

"No way," said Harry. "My dad would kill me if he found out."

"Well, then, we'll just have to make sure no one knows its us. You know you want to."

Harry knew that he wouldn't mind taking the Ravenclaws down a notch. He looked across the Great Hall at them. A few were reading, but most of them were talking, and Harry wished he could hear if they were planning something. One of them, a girl named June, looked over her shoulder at him and he looked away. The girls seemed worse than the boys.

In the potions classroom, the room quieted as they heard Snape enter, and as usual, Harry avoided looking at the man as much as possible. It wasn't that hard, as he was tired from the unpleasant dreams he had been having lately and he had to use a lot of focus to stay on-task.

The class worked on their potion quietly, and Harry was rather pleased with how his was turning out. Even Snape's glare seemed muffled when he looked into Harry's cauldron. Unfortunately, a good day never seemed to stay good, and when Snape was at the front end of the classroom on the Ravenclaw side – not-so-nicely critiquing one of their potions, from the sound of it – Isabella, who sat in the back of the Slytherin side, was not only missing the crucial fourth step, but had added frog legs instead of frog eggs in step two, and no one had noticed yet because the color of the potion wouldn't change until step six. Well, Snape probably would have, had he not been on the other side of the room, but it turned out that luck was on no one's side that class period.

By the time Harry finished step seven, he started smelling something strange behind him, and, after making sure his potion was stable – he had exactly 6 minutes before he could move to step 8 – he turned around and looked into Isabella's cauldron. Unfortunately, Wyatt seemed to think this was a good idea, too, but Wyatt hadn't yet started step seven, and you needed to add the toadstools right on time, or else it could begin to sputter. Which it did, startling Wyatt and spraying Harry on the back of the head, who yelled out because it was extremely hot. Isabella, who just began to realize she had messed up her potion spectacularly, started to freak and with the added commotion in front of her, added four times the amount of toadstools needed, causing her potion fizzle.

Harry thought he saw movement to his right, in Snape's direction, but it was all happening so fast, he wasn't sure if he should duck or run or stay put and try to banish the potion. Suddenly, all he knew was that he felt like his skin was on fire, and he was sure there had been an explosion in the direction of Isabella's cauldron, or Wyatt's, or both, and he vaguely wondered if it was too late for him to move onto step eight.

Harry woke up with a headache, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to open his eyes again. He heard the talking at the bed next to him, and he wished more than anything that they would shut up.

Slowly, Harry did manage to open his eyes, and he found himself in the hospital wing, the white curtain pulled around his bed. Harry tried to move, but decided it hurt too much. He felt, more than saw, movement near his head before seeing Snape come into his vision.

Harry decided that the pain must be causing his brain to mess up, because Snape almost looked concerned. In any case, it was covered up very quickly by Madam Pomfrey bursting in with a potion that he handed to the professor. She left just as quickly, leaving Harry alone again with the man.

"This will put you back to sleep for awhile, Tristan," Snape said. "You . . . should be better by the time you wake up again." Harry could have sworn he heard Snape muttering how he should have been given the proper potion in the first place as he helped Harry drink it, but the potion he was given worked quickly, and he felt himself drifting off into oblivion.


Severus sat down in the chair at the head of Potter's infirmary bed. Potter had gotten the worst of the accident, but from a quick clean-through of the classroom, it seemed the boy's potion was one of the few in the corner that hadn't exploded on some level. Still, Potter had just stood there, staring at the potions as they went wrong, one by one. Everyone else had managed to stand back a little, and Severus wondered what had been going through the boy's head at the time.

To say Potter had been burned was putting it lightly. Not only did the boy's robes catch fire, he had also had several layers of boils on all exposed skin, and the back of his head was missing hair. With Pomfrey, he had been able to figure out what the children did wrong to the potions to devise a counter-potion, because general healing potions were not working. It had a few more hours of simmering to be at full strength, and keeping Potter asleep was probably the only thing keeping him from unbearable pain.

Albus came a few minutes later, and the man just stood there for a minute before Severus looked up. The Headmaster looked . . . forlorn.

"I trust the Potions classroom has been cleaned?" Albus asked and Severus nodded.

"I'll be ready for my classes today," he answered.

"I'll take your classes today, Severus. You should stay with Tristan. Your notes are ready?"

"On my desk, but that is really unnecessary."

"Oh, no trouble at all," Albus said. The old man conjured a chair and sat next to Potter's bed. "Don't worry about the report until Tristan is well again, but i do need to know what exactly had happened."

"Several cauldrons had been brewed wrong. Surprisingly, not Tristan's but he merely stood and stared at the cauldron behind him instead of moving out of the way," Severus grunted. And, being on the other side of the room,he wasn't able to get a shield charm up in time.

"Other professors have reported him seeming tired during class. They were wondering if he is adjusting well enough to his situation. It's not, after all, very often a student will start in their third year." Severus glared at Albus, wondering what the point was, as the old man very well knew that this was not the boy's first year at the school. "How has he been faring in Slytherin? He seems to have made friends."

"He's doing fine," Severus answered, but he honestly didn't know any more than Albus. The boy might be posing as his son, but he was still very much Potter and avoidance was usually the best policy.

"Perhaps talk to him when he's better. Perhaps all he needs is a good nights sleep." Apparently, that was all the old man wanted to say, because Albus left, leaving the chair he had conjured next to the bed.


Harry woke and was relieved to find he could move without pain. There was an after taste of potions in his mouth, though, and he wished he had a glass of water. Opening his eyes, he found Snape standing in front of him, staring.

"Are you in any pain?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head as he slowly sat up. He didn't hurt but he did feel a little stiff. "Come along, then."

Snape waited impatiently as Harry slowly got out of bed and then led him to the dungeons. There were a few people who watched as they walked by but most students ignored them. Harry wondered if Snape was going to yell at him again, but even though he had to have been sleeping for awhile, he felt exhausted and doubted he had much energy to yell back.

They paused briefly at the door to Snape's office but the man seemed to changed his mind because they walked on, in the direction of the sitting room he brought Harry to before.

Inside, Snape waved at him to take a seat and Harry did so quickly. The walk had exhausted him more than he had expected.

The potions master took a seat across from him and stared at him again. Automatically, Harry took up a defensive glare.

"How have you been doing?" Snape asked, sounding as if asking was a great effort.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously. Did the man mean now or the potions accident or ...

"Are you settling into Slytherin?" he asked, annoyed. "Are you making friends? Are you sleeping well?"

"Er... Its fine," Harry said. He couldn't remember anyone asking him questions like that before and it felt even stranger that it was Snape asking. "I'm getting along real well with Wyatt and Lucas and the others seem nice." Harry thought he saw a change in Snape's blank face but forgot about it when he remembered Snape's last question. He hadn't been sleeping well and he wondered how Snape knew. He hadn't told anyone and he knew he hadn't been falling asleep in class.

"And you've been sleeping?" Snape asked impatiently, and Harry wondered how he would tell Snape he was having nightmares. It seemed like such a childish thing to bring up. But Snape was asking ...

Harry just ended up shrugging. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Verbal answer." Harry sighed.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Harry answered. Snape just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He felt himself get red. "I've been having nightmares," he admitted. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything and Harry felt embarrassed to say anything.

"About the events of last year," Snape said flatly, but Harry assumed it was a question.

"Maybe," Harry said. "I guess." He didn't really remember what they were about. A corridor. Sometimes . . . other things. But he woke up scared, just the same.

Snape didn't seem interested in taking the conversation further, and Harry was perfectly fine not talking about it.

Harry left Snape feeling more confused and no better for wear. Not that he expected anything. Snape was the one who seemed to have brought him there to talk and didn't say anything. He wondered a little bit if that was how a dad was supposed to act. Uncle Vernon always just gave Dudley whatever he wanted and he never saw how Mr. Weasley talked to Ron about stuff. Harry sighed as he reached the entrance to the common room.

Things went smoother the next couple months. Snape continued to avoid him, the Ravenclaws finally seem to get bored, and he only had to deal with Malfoy once – which, honestly, wasn't too bad because they only talked about how Harry was liking Hogwarts. Still, the book that Wyatt had brought did seem to have some good pranks. Original stuff that the twins would have loved, and he, Wyatt and Lucas had fun planning what they were going to do if the Ravenclaws tried something again. Harry wasn't sure if he'd actually go through with it – he was still sure that Snape would kill him – but the planning was fun.

He was still having trouble sleeping, though. The nightmares were getting clearer, even though he still couldn't really remember them much when he woke, and the boys in his dorm were starting to notice, too, because apparently he mumbled in his sleep. Not that they were ever able to tell him what he had been talking about.

It was close to Christmas that one of the nightmares were too real. He saw himself as a snake, pleased as he was approaching his pray. Even when he saw it was Mr. Weasley, Harry still felt that happiness.

Harry woke up yelling, and the boys were by him quick, if not yet fully awake. Harry didn't know what to tell them as he tried to get them to understand that someone was hurt, but Wyatt left, saying he was going to get someone and Harry realized he should have gone straight to his dad.

Snape, he thought, annoyed that his half asleep mind called the man dad. Snape appeared quickly, and Harry looked around at the boys staring at him.

"What is going on here?" Snape asked. Harry blanched. He couldn't tell Snape that Mr. Weasley was dying with everyone here. Snape seemed to understand his dilemma, though, and helped him out of bed, ushering him out of the dorm.

"He's dying, you have to find him," Harry said as soon as he thought it was safe.

"Who's dying?"

"Mr. Weasley! I was - there was a snake and it attacked him!" Harry realized belatedly that he had been the snake.

"A nightmare," Snape said. "You are still having them."

"Yes! No!" Harry said. "No, it was real! I know it was!" Snape glared at Harry for a moment, as if trying to assess if he was making it up, and it felt like it had been forever when Snape finally made a decision. Snape handed him his dressing robe, and Harry looked at it, confused about where it had come from.

"Come along," Snape said and Harry followed him to Dumbledore office. Dumbledore seemed to believe him, much to Harry's relief, and after what felt like several pointless questions, the Headmaster was telling Snape to bring him back downstairs, reassuring Harry that they'll take care of everything.

Snape didn't take Harry back to his dorm but his sitting room. Now that Harry felt more awake, he wondered where the other doors went to. Snape seemed to have other things on his mind though.

"You're still having nightmares," the man stated again, standing by a tapestry, not looking at him. "Are they all like that?" Harry shook his head.

"I don't usually remember the nightmares," Harry answered simply. He didn't want to talk about them; he was worried about Mr. Weasley and wanted to talk to Ron. He wanted to throw something, he was so frustrated about everything. "What's going to happen? Why did I – why did the snake attack Mr. Weasley?"

Snape finally looked at him. "I don't know," he said flatly. Snape scrutinized him, and Harry looked away, uncomfortable.

"Can I go back to my dorm?" Harry finally asked, and Snape nodded. After a moment, Harry left, finding his friends awake when he got back.

"What happened?" William asked, and Harry shook his head.

"Just a bad nightmare," Harry said, trying to think of something that wouldn't make him sound pathetic. He failed. "I'm fine."

"Well, good," Zachary said. "I'm going back to bed. Now that I'm sure no one is dying," he huffed in fake annoyance. At least, Harry thought it sounded fake. He wasn't so sure. Still, everyone seemed in agreement, and Harry climbed into his bed and pulled the curtains closed, finding himself not able to fall back to sleep.


"He's been having nightmares, but claims he can't remember them," Severus answered Albus, who was looking pensive. The Headmaster had been asking him questions, most of which he couldn't answer, but he knew that much, at least.

"I think," Albus said after a while, "that Harry needs to learn Occlumency."

Severus raised his eyes at the old man. "Occlumency," he said slowly. "The boy is mediocre at his studies, in addition to now having the brain of a thirteen year old. He does not have the skills needed for Occlumency."

"This isn't about skill, about taking on extra lessons," Albus said grimly, not leaving room for discussion. "I believe, and there is evidence to support it, that Harry's mind is connected with Voldemort's. We must do all we can to sever that link – or at least block it – before Voldemort realizes there is a connection."

"And if the Dark Lord learns of the connection?" Severus asked.

"I do not know Severus. He might try to possess Harry. Might try to control him, influence him. Voldemort might try to implant false memories, try to convince him of false truths. He must learn Occlumency."

Severus didn't respond immediately. "And who, exactly, is going to teach him?"

"You, Severus," Albus said, and Severus went into all the reasons how that was an entirely horrible idea. This rant, like usual, did nothing to change the man's mind, and by the end, Severus was resigned to spending more time to deal with the boy.

The next morning, Severus watched Potter at the Slytherin table. He had found he had taken to watching the brat from the head table far too often, but he was never quite sure what he expected to find. This morning, Potter was quiet and kept looking over at the Gryffindor table while the rest of the third and fourth years talked around him. He was going to have to do something about that.

Tomorrow began the holiday break, which would make it a little easier.