Chapter 13, Part Three: The One Thing He'll Always Regret

While 'Viatus Shivalewski' was introduced to the Weasley, an important conversation took place between Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore in the latter wizard's office.

"Severus, my boy," the headmaster exclaimed in honest surprise when he saw who was stepping through the fireplace. He picked up the spectacles he'd taken off in order to read this particularly tiny written scroll on his desk, and put them on, "What leads you to me?"

The moment he'd finished his question, he saw the normally composed man glimpse toward the fireplace as if he was thinking of leaving again.

"I… I didn't mean to interrupt, Headmaster," it was rare to see Severus so hesitant and it started to worry the old wizard immediately, "What am I interrupting exactly?" The younger man's eyes glanced over the several stacks of parchment covering his desk.

"A rather fruitless attempt at receiving more information concerning the Indicendi and at the same time the effort to modify the wards into a form of defence that would protect Harry without having to return to his relatives next summer. I've failed at both, I'm afraid."

Was that a flinch?

Dumbledore wasn't quite sure, but Severus definitely shrank a little bit and his eyes examined the fireplace with open longing. He didn't want to be here.

"Severus?"

For a moment, there was silence.

When the Potions Master spoke, it was a mere whisper, but its tone wasn't comparable to the imposing, almost intimidating and calm voice he used when he was talking to his students. It quivered slightly and though he didn't sound frightened, he clearly stated just how much he didn't want to speak.

"He thinks you knew about the abuse. The acceptance letter was apparently addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs.' He firmly believes that you knew about the abuse."

He opened his mouth to speak, but when he noticed that he was unable to voice anything but utter shock, he closed it again.

He'd failed Harry; he knew that more profoundly than he'd ever be able to make amends for. He'd done nothing when he'd known that he wasn't treated right, that they were harsh to him, that they didn't treat him as a second son.

But surely, Harry didn't believe that he'd support the idea of him growing up in a cupboard, did he? His heart clenched.

"As they always do, he justifies their actions," this time the young wizard's whisper shook with anger as it always did when it came to domestic violence. Severus had yet to learn that words could hurt just as much as physical assaults, but he was unyielding when it came to latter, "When I asked him whether they'd hurt him, he didn't answer at first, but then stated – not as bluntly mind you, but clearly enough – that they didn't hit him anymore, only to deny it a moment later."

Albus Dumbledore wasn't a violent man. In his youth, he'd made several mistakes, first out of misled brilliance and later out of cowardice. He'd never been a violent person, though. He could therefore recall every single time he'd played with the thought of killing another being.

It hadn't happened a lot of times.

But right this moment, the urge to kill Vernon Dursley was hard to suppress.

Very hard.

How dare he?

Once again, he was inclined to repair the windows, though this time he didn't bother to reprimand himself. He'd gone way past the sentiment of regret. When he saw Severus actually walking towards the fireplace however, he managed to control his emotions well enough to resume the conversation.

It was remarkable how that young man in front of him could morph into a little boy when facing the fury of an older person he looked up to. It was heartbreaking, but at the same time fuel to his inner fire of rage.

His boys had been treated horribly by those who were supposed to protect them. And in both cases he'd failed. Only years later had he heard of Tobias Snape's abusive nature and Harry hadn't been under Vernon Dursley's hand in the first place hadn't it been for his ill judgment.

When Snape opened his mouth to speak again (still looking reluctant if not more than at the beginning), he halted in his actions and the headmaster had to follow his gaze to see what was wrong.

Fawkes looked furious.

Phoenixes were pacifists by nature. They didn't eat meat, they were gentle and they didn't kill. However, it was a terribly foolish idea to hurt their young.

He'd always known that Fawkes cared for Harry, was fiercely protective of him, but seeing the magical birds eyes' burn, he knew that, in a sense, his Familiar had adopted Harry.

Their eyes met and the old wizard shook his head.

Vernon Dursley would not be hurt, but there would be consequences. He would have to pay for his crimes, the burning eyes in front of the headmaster were saying as much.

Their mutual promise caused them to calm down to the point that they were able to listen to Severus again.

Later he'd wish he didn't.

"The fact he believes you, and Minerva," he added as an afterthought causing the older wizard's chest to tighten even more intensively, "Knew about his relatives led to… caused another…" Again Severus stopped talking and seemed to be looking for the right words. Hogwarts' headmaster started to dread the man's lack of eloquence, "He…" A sigh, his entire body was tense. He took one deep breath and continued, "Dolores Umbridge used a Blood Quill on thirty-two students, though only Harry was subjected to it more than twice. It scarred in his case." Dumbledore sat frozen behind his desk; his face a mask, his blue eyes darker than his young colleague had ever seen him. The Potions professor gulped and stated quietly, "I must not tell lies."

The old man couldn't sit anymore. Briskly, he rose from his seat causing the former Death Eater to flinch and take a step back, but for once the perceptive man didn't notice it.

His eyes wide, his left hand covered the lower part of his face. His breath was shallow, ragged as if his body had forgotten how keep itself alive. He felt his limbs grow weak, but he couldn't sit down.

Restlessness was not a feeling he was accustomed to, but judging by what he'd just heard, he knew that he would not regain his calm for quite a while.

Anger quickly morphing into rage arrived late, but more severe than before. Nothing exploded, though.

This was different.

His body was tense, within the blue eyes was a raging storm for once looking so dark they almost seemed black. Had Dolores Umbridge sat in this very office, she would no longer be alive. But she didn't.

Instead, a petrified, young man stood in front of him. Dumbledore could very well remember the last time, Severus had looked as scared. The only difference was that he'd dropped to his knees that time, fifteen years ago.

'Don't kill me.'

Dumbledore's shoulders sunk at the sight of such fear. Still, after so many years, after Severus had practically accepted him as a substitute father (or maybe because of it), he was still afraid of his ire. That knowledge hurt enough to replace his anger with an uneasy emotion he was not used to.

It took him a moment to name it.

Helplessness.

Weakly, he let himself fall into his chair.

"I'm taking care of it," Snape said after feeling reassured that there wouldn't be any attack. His face displayed determination and barely suppressed anger.

This was a promise.

Dolores Umbridge would not get out of this unscathed.

"I'd very much like to contribute," Dumbledore replied surprising them both.

An almost imperceptible smirk was formed by the Potions professor, though his eyes looked very sad and, unfortunately, apprehensive still, "Let a Slytherin take care of this, Headmaster."

"And who exactly told you what House I was in, Severus? I used to be a very ambitious young man, not to mention very gifted," he replied with a small smile on his own, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Once again, he dreaded what was about to come for he sensed this wasn't all.

As if it wasn't bad enough already.

The Potions Master grew very serious, "Albus, everything is under control. She will pay, you have my word, but for now she's irrelevant."

Surprised, Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows. Severus rarely gave his word and the promise was surprising in itself. Much more unsettling was his last statement. This wasn't over, he was about to hear more alarming things than a former teacher using an Unforgivable on their students without their knowledge ('Harry is scarred by a Blood Quill. Merlin, what did you do, Dolores? What did I do? Why did I let this happen?').

The young man continued, unlike his former statement, this was a mere whisper, "He's dying, Albus. He's not sick," he immediately added at the older wizard's shocked expression, "Well, not… He's a mere ghost of the boy he used to be or rather, whom I think he used t…" Frustrated, he sighed, lowered his head and when he looked up, his expression was emotionless. Severus had just activated every Occlumency shield he possessed ridding himself of all emotion.

That was the face of the Death Eater who Apparated by Voldemort's right at least once a week. For the first time, the creator of the Order had a fair idea of what his spy had to feel when the Dark Mark burned.

"Mr Potter does not sleep enough," even his voice sounded cold, void of all emotion. It scared Albus. "You knew this already, you are aware that he is an Empath as well, but, to be frank, neither of us had a fair idea of what the total want of a full night's sleep did to him. He puts on glamour, most likely every day anew, to hide his condition, but, Headmaster, he looks like Black after having escaped from Azkaban." The oh-so-wise man didn't know what to say. He gasped in horror, but the young man continued seemingly untouched, "I admit to have been mistaken about the boy's character, but this year, he has displayed character treats that worry me: he has no concept of self-worth, worse even, he feels responsible for the mutt's death and, if I'm not completely mistaken, Cedric Diggory's also. Irony has it that the only reason he's still sane, seems to be the fact that he intends to stop the Dark Lord, otherwise he might have killed himsel…"

"Severus, stop it!" Dumbledore exclaimed in a desperate attempt to sort his thoughts.

He knew that these words weren't a lie. They'd been spoken without emotion, but the fact that Severus had been forced to resort to Occlumency to give his report calmly spoke volumes about the kind of distress Lily's formerly best friend had to feel.

His own thoughts were twisting and turning like an enraged snake, his heart on the other hand almost seemed to stop for it hurt too much to think, to feel. For a moment, he wished his form of Occlumency would allow him to retreat like Severus'. On the other hand, he hardly believed to deserve peace.

Severus' mask fell the moment Dumbledore had cried out. He looked so much younger now. He seemed uncertain, shy and frustrated at the same time, "I don't know what to do or say to the boy, Albus. Everything seems wrong… I can't. If he starts to trust me…"

"He already does trust you, otherwise he wouldn't have told you."

'He never told me.' This thought mainly made him feel sad and guilty for not having tried harder, but if he was honest with himself, there was a tad bit of that bitter taste of jealousy he couldn't quite suppress.

Only to feel ashamed a second later.

If there was one person in the world not receiving enough credit, it was Severus. The fact Harry acknowledged this should make him happy. And strangely, it did.

But yes, he was a tad bit jealous.

"I killed his parents," the former Death Eater practically hissed, "I'm the last person he should get close to." The conviction in his words made the old man pause.

He'd not been kind to Severus that night Lily had died. He'd displayed behaviour bordering on mockery back then by asking him to remember Lily's eyes. He'd never told him that, despite all his mistakes, he'd only been a small piece of the puzzle. Compared to his own mistakes, Severus was practically an innocent when it came to the Potters' death.

He stood up again, moved around his desk and firmly laid both of his hands on the other man's shoulder, "Their death was not your fault, Severus."

A sound escaped the Potions professor's lips that Dumbledore was unable to interpret.

"Good try, Headmaster. You might want to say this to Harry, though."

Frantically, the wise wizards tried to recall the last time Severus had called Harry by his first name. He was quite sure that it slipped over his tongue more and more often every time they met. He spoke the name so much softer than 'Potter.'

For the first time since Severus had started to talk, Dumbledore felt something akin to happiness, but it was quickly replaced by the wary feeling of not having anticipated the amount of his young colleague's guilt.

He should have intervened earlier… The Order's spy might have tried to connect with Harry much sooner.

As it seemed to be cruel irony, it was yet another mistake on Harry's costs.

To be cared for by Albus Dumbledore was a curse much more than a gift.

"Severus…"

"I've been treating the boy like the dirt beneath my boots, Headmaster!" the younger wizard exclaimed, "For five years, I've been mistreating him, I have contributed to his utter lack of self-worth and I can't even say that I did not mean to do it for it was actually my goal! I wanted him to show that he was less than he thought himself to be," a bitter laugh escaped the younger man's lips, "If I'd known how little this was to begin with I'd have never tried, but I was blind. How exactly do you expect me, me of all people to help a child whose life I made much harder than necessary in the first place?"

"Severus, if every adult, who either hurt or neglected Harry in the past would not be allowed to help him now, there would hardly anybody left to help him…"

"Molly and Arthur…"

"Are excellent people, but they've had seven children already, and they don't know much about Harry's hardships in life, or rather, only as much as Ronald does, which, frankly, is not enough," Dumbledore stated firmly.

"What do you suggest?" Severus felt helpless; he seemed to have shrunk a bit. A feeling the famous wizard could relate to very well.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully.

For a moment there was silence before the Potions Master spoke again. The way his eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him, showed just how deeply he was lost in thought.

"We failed him, the all of us. Maybe, we simply have to accept this and seek redemption."

Forgiveness.

Severus craved for it, but didn't ever think to deserve it. Instead, he was always talking of redemption, making past wrongs right.

"We can't change the past, but we can change the future. Harry needs to sleep, first of all, otherwise his body will fail him sooner rather than later. Then, he needs to train, his abilities in Mind Magic in particular. He needs to have the opportunity to practise without the Dark Lord finding out about this the same day. He also has to learn that he is not responsible for his godfather's death. Besides, he's not a fool. He knows what the Prophecy means and it will weigh heavily on his heart."

It was rare to hear Severus speak so much, especially with his voice full of determination that bordered on passion.

It was good to hear him like this. The prospect of helping Harry was like a Healing Solution on a nasty cut, it soothed the pain in his heart.

They started to discuss, throwing around ideas and dismissing them.

Nearly an hour later, the older wizard wondered why Severus was so insistent in claiming that he was unfit as a teacher, or parent. The way he spoke of Harry and how he wanted to make sure the child would not give himself up, proved just how much he cared.

What surprised him a bit was just how reluctant Severus was at involving anyone else but Minerva and Filius.

Especially at the mention of Remus Lupin, a derisive snort was uttered by the intelligent man, "He avoids Harry. According to the boy, he simply cannot bear Black's death… He won't be any help. He thought merely telling the boy once that the mutt's death wasn't his fault would be sufficient. Besides, he's otherwise involved."

"Otherwise involved?" he knew he sounded a bit sceptical, but in this case nobody would blame him. Why would Severus approach a Marauder?

"The retribution on Miss Umbridge, Headmaster. He's a part of my plans."

For Harry. Severus had approached one of his greatest school rivals to serve the boy justice. Dumbledore wasn't too fond of the kind of retribution Severus would undoubtedly bestow on the witch, but for once he didn't try to control the Order's spy's actions too much.

However, one thing he wanted to make sure, "Do not have her killed, Severus."

"I won't, but she will suffer the very same thing she tried to do to Harry," his lips formed a straight line.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Severus," Dumbledore replied frowning.

"'I must not tell lies.' Harry can resist the power of the Blood Quill's curse, but he pays a price for it. He told me that it is more difficult than before to say anything but the truth. He struggles whenever he's not entirely honest. His right hand balls into a fist… Because of that woman, he couldn't even lie to the Dark Lord's face," the last words were hissed, before his voice once again was calm, collected and cold, "She has to pay and since Harry is an Empath, she'll be struck down by her own methods."

'To hurt an Empath is to hurt thyself.' He'd heard of that potion and it didn't surprise him in the slightest that Severus had heard of that too.

"I will trust you to do what's right, my boy," the old wizard said gently. The younger man's mistakes were not as numerous as his own were. Surely, he counted quite a few years more, but for now, Albus Dumbledore didn't trust himself when it came to Harry Potter and everything happening around him. Not anymore.

But he would regain that trust (he would make himself worthy of caring for Harry Potter), and Severus' thoughts on helping Harry might just be enough to accomplish this.

Dumbledore's soft warning was heard and acknowledged by the Potions Master with a brisk nod. "How do you plan on calling Harry?" Severus inquired.

Dumbledore smiled, though the sparkle in his eyes hadn't returned just yet. He didn't need to say anything for Fawkes had already spread his wings and was gone a moment later.

They were both silent until Fawkes returned.

People always wondered how he communicated with his Familiar. It was a special form of Mind Magic, really. Fawkes conveyed his thoughts through feelings and sounds, hardly any pictures. Musing about Harry's own way of creating his shields made him wonder whether this was one of the reasons why Fawkes was so fond of the sixteen-year-old.

"Harry will be arriving here in about twenty minutes," he told Severus. Over the years, he'd learned to read the shier variety of sounds his Familiar uttered. It was a language of its own.

"Sit down in the meanwhile, Severus," Dumbledore said and gestured towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

The following twenty minutes were spent in together in silence. That was not such an unusual occurrence for them, but normally this was a lot less uncomfortable.

Both were thinking about that young man that was about to enter the office any second, both were hung up on their own personal world of guilt when it came to that boy.

Generally, when silence became uncomfortable, it was the older wizard who'd start a conversation. Today, it was the Potions professor.

It was just that, despite the many talents Severus possessed, small-talk definitely wasn't one of them.

"Do you think he'll accept?" he sounded sceptical.

"As long as we listen to his own needs and fears, things we might not have anticipated, I am sure." So far, he'd made the decisions and simply ordered Harry to follow through his plans and every time, it had ended in a disaster. Last year had been the ultimate proof.

Harry, though still a child, had experienced enough ('I've seen enough, I've done enough! I want out!') to make his decisions independently.

A gentle knock at the door startled them both and Severus rose from his seat.

"Please, enter," Dumbledore said gently.

"Hello, sir," Harry said quietly as he entered. When he spotted Severus, he smiled a little, "Good to see you again, Professor."

"Mr Potter," Severus merely replied. He looked at the headmaster asking for permission to start, which he received, "I hope we did not interrupt the meeting with your friends." Never had Dumbledore heard the Potions professor speak so kindly to Harry.

The lack of surprise in the boy's face and the small smile the inquiry formed indicated that it wasn't for the first time, "We were just going back to the castle when Fawkes appeared, sir. You didn't interrupt us." Then, the smile disappeared and was replaced by a wary look, "Why am I here, sir?"

"The headmaster had to hear about your condition."

The moment the words were uttered, Harry's face lost colour in shock before the green eyes looked hurt in anger and betrayal.

It had had been the wrong thing to say.

"Had I seen any other possibility, I wouldn't have done it, Harry," Severus spoke solemnly. Harry, who'd opened his mouth to speak, closed it the moment his first name was spoken.

That name from the Potions Master's lips held power. It was remarkable how easily a little bit of kindness on Severus' part was able to cut through one's defence. Much more easily than any scathing comment ever could.

Harry looked away, avoided the headmaster's gaze and it pained Dumbledore as if someone had stabbed a knife into his heart.

He wanted to ask why he hadn't come to him, wanted to ask why he hadn't told anyone. Unfortunately, he already knew the answer to that question. Another wave of helplessness overcame him and he started to despise the feeling.

But of course, the Empath would pick up on that. Harry's expression confused, he turned around, met his gaze, only to avoid it again. The unspoken question had been heard and the answer was, "I just… You'd have tried to make it better," Harry explained quietly, intensely examining the ground he stood on, "And I don't deserve that."

Quicker than either Harry or Snape could react, Dumbledore walked around his desk and kneeled down in front of Harry, for once looking shorter than the underage wizard.

"I apologize, Harry," he said firmly, he knew his eyes were glimmering slightly for he could feel the tears wallowing up inside, "I was a fool to leave you alone after Cedric's death, but it is unforgivable for having done the same when Sirius died," Harry flinched and looked away, "I know you will not believe me right away, Harry, but no death that has occurred around you, is your fault. Not your parents', not Cedric's, not Sirius'. You didn't do it and you didn't want it to happen."

"But I…"

"Every single one of those deaths I've contributed more than you did. Does that make me their murderer?"

Harry shook his head, emerald glimmering with unshed tears, "No, sir."

"Then you are not, either," he said firmly, softly putting his hands on the lean shoulders. He could almost feel the lack of muscle around the boy's shoulders, but the glamour was rather sophisticated, the illusion went beyond looks… Which was not surprising in the least. Harry was not a person to rely merely on what he saw.

Harry nodded slowly, but he tried not to look at Dumbledore and the latter just knew this wasn't good enough to convince him, but it was a start.

"I don't think you've called me just to say this, sir," Harry said, still avoiding him.

It was Severus, who spoke again, "Mr Potter, you must understand that you cannot go on like this. If you continue, you don't have to fear that the Dark Lord will kill you; the lack of sleep will do it for him. My suggestion is that you spend this night in the hospital wing with a potion to provide you a dreamless sleep. To make sure your mind doesn't wander, I will stay close and make sure you don't drift." Surprised, Harry looked up, shaking his head slowly, "You are a child, Harry, and you desperately need sleep. The Dark Lord will not call me tonight. You know this for he said so yesterday. I cannot promise you it will work, but it's worth to try. Let me do this," he was silent before he added, "Please."

Dumbledore couldn't say what exact word had convinced Harry to nod, but he did, which was all that was important.

"Furthermore, you need to train without fear of hurting any of your fellow students or to being spied on by them. Which is why we suggest you to report every Sunday afternoon to Professor Dumbledore, who will be sending you to a room we plan on creating for you to train and study without fearing any consequences. Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick or myself will take care of these lessons. Our Occlumency lessons will continue to stand."

Harry looked as if someone had given him an early Christmas present, "Really? That would be great. My friends are good, mind you, but during the DA I'm supposed to teach, not study. It would be wonderful to train for once. Thank you, sir."

Briskly, Severus nodded and for the first time ever since the Order's spy had entered this office, the old man had to stifle his laughter. Those two were so alike when it came to the acceptance of gratitude it was almost painful to watch.

It wasn't surprising that they seemed to get along; it was surprising they hadn't gone along for so long.

"Professor Aikokyushin will not be taking part of this, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked and since he was thereby looking at him, he didn't see Severus' expression.

He had not seen that kind of emotion on the Potions Master's face for a long while: jealousy.

Now he knew why Severus had carefully avoided including anyone but Filius and Minerva into their plans. They had nothing to do with 'ensuring secrecy' as he'd said earlier. He was afraid Harry might start to rely on others more than the Potions Master.

Sometimes, Severus Snape was a very difficult man to understand.

So, yes, he had to stifle a laugh.

"If you want to, I think we can include him into this, Harry," the man counting more than a hundred years stated mildly. Thereby, he earned a sharp glance from his younger colleague.

"It's just his style is very different," Harry explained, "I don't want to steal his time, sir."

It was remarkable how the Empath was unable to pick up on Severus' feelings, and yet, not so surprising for Severus had told him that, apparently, his way to practise Occlumency somehow blocked Harry's abilities. However, Harry had felt the Potions Master's distress earlier today. But he seemed unable to pick up on Severus' more subtle feelings when his shields were firmly in place, which they were.

Not to their full intensity as they were during a Death Eater meeting, but still enough to block out Harry's, admittedly unintended, prying.

Watching those two was fascinating and painful at the same time.

Their behaviour also gave him hope. Both of them had revoked their prejudices towards the other. All they had to do now was get to know each other. Meeting twice a week outside of class would definitely be beneficial.

"I will ask Professor Aikokyushin if he's interested."

That was a formality, though.

Moraku? Turn down the possibility to test a Kirei's abilities? To help a student?

Tom would sooner become a part of the Order than that.

"Thanks, sir. Is there anything else? Otherwise I'll be back here by tomorrow afternoon." Childish enthusiasm was something he'd missed seeing on Harry's face this year. He was glad it had returned.

"What will you be telling your friends?" Severus inquired.

"That Professor Dumbledore will be teaching me additional Occlumency on Sundays." The calmly spoken answer surprised the two older wizards in the office. Harry noticed it and added, "Hermione and Ron will be the only ones who'll ask, really, when I say that the headmaster wants to see me. They won't be asking too many questions since last year's dis…"

He stopped talking, the 'last year's disaster' hung in the air unspoken.

Severus didn't look angry at that, just sad. Harry avoided the taller man's gaze.

"I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time, sir," the emerald-eyed boy said very quietly.

"What did I tell you about apologizing, Mr Potter?" Severus replied strictly yet mildly.

"Well, it is kind of my fault," Harry argued, but was interrupted immediately.

"It is my choice, my idea even, to train you further. There is no need for apologies." One of Severus' talents was to speak in a manner that dissolved all ground to argue. It was very reassuring in moments when one felt insecure. It wasn't surprising therefore that it worked very well on Harry.

"Thank you, Professor," he whispered, his head lowered.

As he'd promised, Severus Snape was standing in the hospital wing, when Harry arrived. He'd told Ron and Hermione that he had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing because of what happened at the Ministry (they were the only ones knowing about Voldemort's ultimate attack when he'd taken his body). Hermione had looked dubious, but she'd accepted, very well aware that it wasn't wise to pry.

Madame Pomfrey had prepared a bed muttering something about paying rent for it since he was her most regular patient.

Harry was bit nervous, unsure what the professor would do. It was also strange to actually walk to the hospital wing: usually he was carried (according to Madame Pomfrey) unless some incompetent teacher managed to vanish the bones in his arm or he'd just come back from a potentially lethal encounter with Voldemort.

Today, apart from the common feeling of exhaustion, he felt well enough. As he got prepared for bed, he felt everything but comfortable when sat on the mattress noticing Snape sitting in a chair nearby, not right beside the bed but not on the other side of the room either.

The potion was prepared on his nightstand. Slowly, he took it, quietly wishing Professor Snape good night.

"Good night, Harry," the Potions Master's softly spoken words were the last thing he heard before falling asleep.

Snape quickly checked the boy's defences and presence of mind. He didn't get past Harry's maze that was Hogwarts which, frankly, still amazed him, but he was relieved to see that the boy's mind hadn't wandered.

However, whether or not it worked, they would know the next day. He only hoped that the potion wouldn't trap Harry in his horrifying dreams.

That Saturday night was going to be strenuous for several professors teaching at this school.

In the Hospital Wing, Severus Snape sat by Harry's side all night regularly checking whether he was distressed, or his mind had wandered. His eyes stung and occasionally they fluttered shut for he did not have much sleep the night before. However, he somehow kept himself awake.

Unable to sleep was Albus Dumbledore. He sat as his desk covered by countless sheets of parchment. He didn't see them however.

For the first time in countless years, he was crying. It was heartbreaking to listen to those sobs uttered in a moment of deepest shame. The last time he'd cried that way had been hours after Ariana's death.

Never before had he felt so old.

Filius Flitwick didn't sleep either. Unlike his former Transfiguration teacher however, he was in a very cheery mood. His desk was covered by several books.

The Art of Duelling – A Beginner's Guide (the first book he'd ever read on the subject, many years ago)

Of Wards and Shields

Charming Charms to Hex and Defend

That and many other books were opened and the Charms teacher was taking notes. He wanted to be prepared, though it was unlikely for him to see Mr Potter for the next few Sundays.

There were so many things he wanted to teach the boy, but he also wanted to learn from him for his approach was so unique, it would surprise Flitwick if he had not taken his time to look into duelling as well.

There was also another book on his desk with a slightly different title and meaning than the others. It was merely to enjoy himself.

Roasted Toad – Thirty Recipes of Preparing a Toad

He'd definitely have to look into the art of transfiguring humans into animals. He might have to approach Minerva over it.

Had Flitwick known of his colleague's state of mind, he might not have been as cheerful.

Minerva couldn't sleep either. She was sitting in her office, alone, at her desk correcting her Third Year's essays on Animagi. Her hand was shaking so hard, she was inclined to put down her quill.

Warily, she stared at it and broke into tears yet again.

She'd failed them, she'd failed her children.

A/N: That was a particularly hard chapter to write. That's why it took me a while (that and I had important exams coming up)... I hope you liked.

Thanks for all those who've been reviewing so regularly. Thanks to those who've decided to review the last chapter.

And of course, thank you, MissGoalie75, for beta-ing my story.