Author's Note: Many thanks to all reviewers. No questions to answer this time, just a few notes. This one was a bit dicey to write, since I needed to include so much information. In the process of working out this and the next chapter, I've realized that my timeline doesn't quite line up with that of the HP Lexicon. This is partially a misread on my part. So, just know that, in the timeline of this story, the attack on the Astronomy Tower occurred a little less than a month before the Lexicon says it did. My reason for telling you this will become clear in chapter 26. Also, while I did use the Lexicon timeline as a major resource in writing this chapter, I did not use it as the final authority. As a disclaimer: I had the basic idea for this in my head before Deathly Hallows came out. I tried not to let events of DH alter the course in any way. Therefore, any similarities are purely coincidental. That said, enjoy.

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Chapter 25: Understanding

Hermione moved to stand in front of Harry, blocking Snape's face from view. "Harry—?"

"Explain later," Aberforth said, straightening up. He pulled Harry and Hermione's wands from his pocket and tossed them to their respective owners. "I'll take the lead with Mr. Weasley. One of you, levitate him out of here. The other, take up the flank in case someone attacks." He limped out of the cell.

Hermione gazed at Harry for a moment before waving her wand to repair his glasses. Then, she reached out a tentative hand to touch his arm. "Please," she said, "we have to get him out of here."

Harry stared at her, his mind refusing to comprehend her words at first. Finally, he nodded once. "You levitate," he said shortly.

Hermione's expression relaxed, and she turned her attention back to Snape. She waved her wand over him so that he rose a few inches off the slab and carefully directed him out of the cell. Harry just watched, a bit surprised by his own lack of reaction. Rather than the explosive rage that he had felt numerous times before, what he felt when he looked at Snape was more subtle, a quiet contempt gnawing away at his insides.

As the four of them moved passed Nott's cage, he lunged forward suddenly. Hermione leapt back, and Snape's body wavered, threatening to fall. "You can't protect him forever, Granger!" Nott hissed. Though his face was pressed against the bars, his eyes rolling madly, he looked more lucid than before.

Hermione paid him no further attention, though she did increase her pace a bit. Unable to do anything else, Harry followed after her.

About midway down the hall, a hand reached out, catching Harry's arm. Narcissa stared out at him from an almost skeletal face. "My son," she said weakly, "is he okay?"

"Harry!" Hermione called from the landing, where she stood with Ron, Snape hovering beside her. Aberforth had already gone downstairs. "Come on!"

But Harry was glued to the spot, staring into Narcissa's eyes, which were as mad as Nott's and filled with despair. It occurred to him that, if Hermione was right, he had been away from Grimmauld Place for almost two days. If someone had gone into his room looking for him...

Harry pulled himself away from these thoughts. If Malfoy was caught, there was not a thing he could do about it right now. Still, he found himself unable to move as Narcissa continued to gaze at him with desperation. Through his contempt for Snape, he began to feel a twinge of pity, so faint it barely registered.

But it was enough. Harry nodded, patting her hand.

Cold, bony fingers closed over his like a vice grip, and her lips parted into something resembling a smile. "Thank you," she said in a wavering voice. Then, she released him.

Harry hurried to catch up to the others, trying to ignore the odd look that Ron was giving him. Hermione did not seem to notice, her attention firmly focused on Snape.

When they got downstairs, Aberforth led them past half a dozen unconscious Death Eaters. Harry spotted Pansy lying by the circular desk across the room, a cut on her head trickling blood, and hesitated. "She'll live," Aberforth said roughly. "Move."

Harry tore his eyes away and followed. Aberforth led them outside and to the gate, where another two guards lay on the ground. Once they were on the other side, he stopped for a moment, glancing around. He stuck a finger in his mouth briefly and held it up in the air, as though checking the wind direction. "We're outside the wards," he said. "I'll take him from here, Miss Granger. You three get back to Grimmauld Place. I'll contact you again in two nights." He grabbed Snape by the arm and Disapparated.

"What—?" Ron started.

"Half the Order's probably out looking for us," Hermione interrupted. "We need to get back to Grimmauld Place." She glanced at Harry. "I know it's a lot to ask, but please don't say anything. We have to tell them we escaped on our own."

Harry stared at her for a moment. "There had better be a damn good excuse for this," he said.

"There is, Harry, I promise, and I'll tell you as soon as I can, but we need to move now." She seemed to take his silence as confirmation, grabbed them each by the arm, and spun.

Harry felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube as the landscape disappeared, replaced by the sitting room of the Burrow.

"They probably still have those traps in the Entrance Hall," Hermione explained. "We'll have to use Floo." She grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the flames, stepping in before either of them could speak. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

Harry and Ron both hesitated. "Are we really not going to tell them?" Ron asked.

Harry did not reply. Finally, he stepped forward and threw in his powder as well. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

To his surprise, he stepped out into the kitchen to see Hermione wrapped in a tight hug by Mrs. Weasley. When Mrs. Weasley spotted Harry, she hurried over, hugging him as well. When Ron stumbled out a moment later, she moved on to him. "Oh, thank heavens, you're all right," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said. "We—"

"Not now," Mrs. Weasley said, stepping back to survey Hermione and Ron. "You two are quite a sight. I'm taking you to Aura right away to change those bandages. Then it's off to bed for all of you. You can explain in the morning."

Harry was extremely grateful for this. With all of the commotion, he had not realized just how tired he was. When he followed the others upstairs, Mrs. Weasley sent him off to his room at once. "I want you downstairs bright and early for breakfast," she said.

Harry put up no objections, pushing the door to his room open. The moment his eyes fell on the maze still in the corner, he forgot his exhaustion. He glanced around the empty room, a cold chill spreading through his veins.

Then, as he stepped forward to check the bathroom, he saw it. His things had all been unpacked from his trunk, strewn haphazardly on the floor on the other side of the bed. He stared at them for a moment before realization dawned on him. He strode over to the trunk and threw it open.

The first thing that hit Harry was a foul stench so strong he recoiled, covering his face. Malfoy lay sideways in the otherwise empty trunk, his legs pulled up to his chest. His arms were folded in what looked like a painful position, one hand clutched tightly around his wand. His clothes were soiled, and the bandages covering the spot where his Dark Mark once was had come loose, though a quick check showed that the stasis spell was still holding. His face was white as a sheet, his lips dried and cracked. When the lid opened, he did not even react, staring straight ahead.

Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and helped him up. Or, rather, pulled him up, as Malfoy's legs did not seem to want to move properly. After several moments and near falls, Harry managed to get him out of the trunk, at which point he sat down heavily on the floor, shaking.

Harry glanced away, picking up a glass from his bedside table and walking over to the bathroom. He filled the glass about halfway with water and downed it in a few gulps to quell his thirst. Then, he rinsed and filled it again, carrying it back out to Malfoy.

Malfoy took the glass and, after a moment, raised it to his lips. He cleared his throat, took another sip, and finally spoke. "How long?"

"Two days," Harry said. He pulled out the chair from his desk and sat down. "What happened?"

"You didn't come back," Malfoy said in a quiet voice, staring down into the surface of the water.

"Hermione was kidnapped. I had to go."

"Someone knocked that morning looking for you. I panicked. I had to find somewhere where they wouldn't look."

"Have you been in there this whole time?"

Malfoy nodded.

Harry opened his mouth. Then, he closed it. Several emotions passed through him at once, most indiscernible. Pity was fleeting, lasting only as long as it took for him to remember what Malfoy had done to him, and he began to think that Malfoy had gotten what he deserved. The sense of justice was empty, however, and left just as quickly.

Malfoy looked up. "Granger got captured?"

Harry glanced the other way to hide the fact that he had been staring. "Yeah, but..." He had only a split second warning, a sinking in the pit of his stomach, before pain exploded in his scar and he clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His veins were both burning and freezing at once. Through the roaring in his mind, he heard yelling and, faintly, screaming.

Then, it ended. Harry did not remember falling, but he found himself on the floor. His head was still pounding and the cold chill lingered throughout his body. He slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position and pressed a hand to his scar, which was still throbbing. Malfoy had not moved, but every muscle in his body was tense, his hands clutched tightly around the glass and his eyes filled with apprehension.

Before Harry could think of what to say, he heard a soft knock at the door. Glad for the excuse, he looked away and struggled to his feet.

Hermione stood on the other side of the door, her hand poised in the air as though about to knock again. Her skin was still smudged with dirt and she looked exhausted, but her bandages had been changed. "Sorry if—are you all right?" she asked.

"He's..." Harry said in a strained voice, his jaw clenching involuntarily. "He's really angry." He drew in a sharp breath.

She hesitated, glancing at Malfoy. "Is he—?"

"He's fine," Harry snapped. "What do you want?"

She flinched and lowered her voice. "I told you I'd explain. But not here."

Harry narrowed his eyes but stepped out into the hall without complaint, shutting the door.

Hermione gave a small, forced smile. "Ron's waiting for us. Come on."

When they reached the room, Ron was sitting up. His bandages had also been replaced, but he looked in much the same condition as Hermione. His eyes flitted nervously to Harry, but he did not say anything.

"Y...you might want to sit down for this," Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly.

Harry did not move. He could still feel the rage pulsing through his veins, irritation enhanced by the continued twitching of his scar.

She seemed to notice his mood and turned away, slowly walking across the room, wringing her hands. She took a deep breath. "Before I was taken, I'd been in contact with Snape and Aberforth for about two weeks."

Harry gaped at her as he struggled to comprehend.

Ron seemed just as stunned. "W...What? Why...?"

But Hermione was watching Harry again, her arms folded tightly over her chest. "I know you don't want to hear this," she said, "but they're on our side."

Harry felt a new rush of anger that was entirely his own. "How can you say that?" he said in a low voice. "You know what he did."

"I know." She stepped back toward Harry, sounding close to tears. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. Harry, everything he did was on Dumbledore's orders."

Harry barely managed to stop himself, his fist freezing in mid-swing. Hermione had thrown her arms up over her head when he started for her, and Ron was on his feet, his full attention focused on Harry.

Nobody moved for several moments. Harry's teeth clenched painfully, every ounce of his self control thrown into keeping his fist immobile. Then, finally, he lowered it.

Hermione dropped her arms as well, though she remained on alert. "I have something to show you. I'm not asking for much. Just, please, wait here for ten minutes." She turned away without waiting for a reply and walked out the door.

Tense silence filled the room long after she had gone. Harry glared at the spot where she had disappeared. Nothing she said could make any difference. Snape was a murderer, and Aberforth was just as bad for helping him.

Still, the thought of leaving did not even cross his mind.

"You..." Ron said. Harry turned to see Ron's expression mirroring his, fists clenched at his sides.

"You heard what she said," Harry said.

"I don't care." Ron pointed a finger at him. "I don't know what's going on with you, but if you ever lay a hand on her..." He trailed off.

Harry just stared back indifferently. He had no anger to spare for Ron. After a few moments, Ron sat back down, but his hard gaze did not waver.

They still had not moved by the time Hermione returned. She was clutching the shrunken cabinet containing the Pensieve to her chest.

Ron finally looked away from Harry. "W...did you just go to the Burrow?"

"Just long enough to grab this," Hermione said.

"But you could've been attacked!"

"It's worth the risk." She held the cabinet out to Harry. "Take this to my room. No one should disturb you there, but lock the door just in case. In Snape's box, there's a set of blue vials. Watch them."

"Why—?" Ron started.

"I'll give you the short version," Hermione interrupted. "Harry needs to watch these alone." She turned back to Harry. "I'm not asking you to believe me. Please, just watch them."

Harry stared for another moment. Then, he reached out to take the cabinet.

-

"Severus Caleb Snape."

The box appeared on the shelf. Harry retrieved it, prying the lid open. His vision blurred and he glanced away, waiting for his eyes to unfocus. The expanded interior of the box appeared, stretching to accommodate about fifty vials. Just as Hermione had said, there was a collection of blue vials in one corner.

Harry reached in and slowly began to pull them out, examining the dates. One was dated as far back as August of 1980, and the most recent was in late February of the current year. Harry picked up the former and pried the cork out, dumping the memory into the Pensieve and prodding it with his wand.

The silvery strands swirled around for a few moments until finally clearing to reveal the familiar bird's-eye view of Dumbledore's office. Harry took a deep breath and plunged his face into the Pensieve, feeling himself pitch forward.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, just as he had been in the other memories Harry saw recently. This time, however, he had his wand in hand and was watching the door with rapt attention.

There was no knock. The door creaked open, and Snape walked in. He looked much younger, but the lank, greasy hair and sallow skin were unmistakable. He strode over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

"I've already filled the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"That's not why I'm here," Snape said in a voice so low Harry barely caught it.

Dumbledore nodded, raising his wand. Snape's eyes narrowed, but Dumbledore only pointed it at the door, sending a small burst of light at it. "I thought not," he said. "What is this about?"

"I heard a rumor that the Potters had a child."

"I am not at liberty to discuss the private matters of others."

"I came to you because I have reason to believe that they may be in danger."

"And I suppose you are doing so purely out of the goodness of your heart." It was not a question, but there was a palpable note of disbelief in Dumbledore's voice.

"I'm proposing a trade. I'll give you all the information I have. In exchange, I want protection."

"From Voldemort?"

Snape tensed at the mention of the name. "And the Ministry."

"I see. I'm afraid I must respectively decline. Rest assured, if the Potters are in danger, they are more than well protected."

"He knows about the prophecy, Headmaster."

Dumbledore blinked once, and fixed Snape with a critical eye. They stared at each other for several moments, as though trying to read each others minds. "Professor Slughorn has expressed wishes to retire at the end of this school year," Dumbledore said finally. "If I recall correctly, you had quite an aptitude for Potions. If you will remain within the castle, I can offer you protection until then, and the job is yours."

Snape gazed back for a long time before answering. "I'll take the job, but I can't stay here."

"The deal is all or nothing," Dumbledore replied. His hands, folded on his desk, were shaking slightly. "If you won't agree to stay, then I'm afraid I can't help you."

Snape's face showed no reaction as he stood to leave. "Very well."

Dumbledore wavered. "Severus."

Snape paused with his hand on the doorknob and glanced back. "Yes, sir?"

"You may have the job, if you will submit to a questioning under Veritaserum once each month for one year." He opened his desk drawer, shifted the papers around, and drew out two thin, crystal rods the length of his forefinger. "Do you know what these are?"

Snape nodded.

Dumbledore set one on his desk and held the other out. "It's for emergencies only. Carry it wherever you go."

Snape stared. Then, he stepped forward and accepted the rod, slipping it into his pocket. "When do you want me back?"

"One month from today. Use the Floo Network, and tell no one where you're going."

Snape nodded again and left the room without another word.

Harry waited to see if there was more, but Dumbledore only tucked his wand away and pulled a scroll of parchment from his desk, studying it. So, Harry concentrated on the image of Hermione's room and leapt backwards, feeling himself soar into the air.

He landed in the middle of the floor with the intense feeling that he was wasting his time. If anything, that memory had only solidified his contempt for Snape. He had sided with Dumbledore purely to save his own skin.

Still, Harry moved on to the next vial. Unsurprisingly, it was dated exactly one month later.

This time, Dumbledore was pouring over half a dozen scrolls spread out on his desk, none of which appeared to be in English. The chair in front of his desk had disappeared, replaced by a narrow cot. Three potions sat out on his desk: one dark blue, one light blue, and one unmistakable clear potion.

The fireplace roared to life a few moments later, and Snape stepped through, dusting soot from his robes.

Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it once over the scrolls, which vanished "No trouble getting here, I gather?"

Snape did not answer, moving over to the desk to examine the potions. He picked up the dark one. "A sedative? I rather thought you'd go for a spell."

"I thought you'd be more comfortable with something familiar," Dumbledore replied. "Before we get started, your wand?

Snape narrowed his eyes, but drew his wand and set it on the desk.

Dumbledore nodded. "Now, I'll need to check you for spells." He shook his wand once, and it began to emit a steady, white light. He shone it in Snape's direction, traveling from his feet up to his head. He nodded and gave the wand another shake to put it out. "And potions."

Snape's eyes were slits as he pulled up the sleeve of his right arm and held it out. "I see trust is still a commodity here."

"Trust is earned, Severus." Dumbledore gripped Snape's wrist and tapped his forearm with the wand, causing a drop of blood to well up. He lit his wand again and shone it over the pinprick. "All clear."

"How very surprising," Snape said dryly.

Dumbledore tucked his wand away and stood up. He walked around his desk, picked up the dark potion, and handed it to Snape. "One dose should do it. This won't take long."

Snape sat on the cot and took a small sip of the potion, passing it back to Dumbledore. Then, he lay down, staring at the ceiling with a glazed look on his face, his lips parted slightly.

Dumbledore waved his hand in front of Snape's face once. He seemed satisfied when he got no reaction and picked up the Veritaserum. He gently lifted Snape's head a few inches off the cot and shook a few drops of potion into his mouth before returning the potion to the desk.

"What is your full name?" Dumbledore asked.

"Severus Caleb Snape," Snape replied in a slightly slurred voice.

"Your parents' names?"

"Tobias Daniel Snape and Eileen Devin Prince Snape."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Albus Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dumbledore paused. "Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Do you bear the Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded to himself as though he had expected this, waved his wand to conjure an armchair, and sat down. "How did you learn about the Potters' son?"

"I have connections in the records office at the Ministry."

"Did you discover any other children born around the same time?"

"Frank and Alice Longbottom had a son."

"Did you tell Voldemort about what you found?"

"No."

"What makes you believe that he may be going after the Potters?"

"The prophecy said that a child born at the end of the seventh month would have the power to destroy the Dark Lord."

"And how did he learn of the prophecy?"

"I told him."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "When did you decide to come to me?"

"When I found out about the Potters' son."

"Why?"

"James Potter saved my life. I'm returning the favor."

Dumbledore suddenly seemed very interested. "Did you know that life debts aren't binding?"

"Yes."

"Yet you still want to repay James?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore looked as though he wanted to ask more questions, but he did not speak. Instead, he stood and retrieved the light blue potion, tipping a small amount into Snape's mouth.

Snape blinked and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing. "Tell Slughorn he's losing his touch."

"I'll take that under consideration," Dumbledore said, moving back to his desk chair and pulling a scroll of parchment from his desk. "We're done here, Severus. I'll see you again in one month."

"I take it I told you what you wanted to hear, then?"

Dumbledore looked at Snape over his glasses. "Goodbye, Severus," he said firmly.

Harry waited until Snape had disappeared into the fireplace, and then drew himself out of the memory.

The third one took place in August of the next year. This time, when Snape arrived by Floo, he surveyed the empty desk and glanced at Dumbledore. "Run out of Veritaserum, did you?"

"I thought we would talk instead," Dumbledore said. He waved a hand at the chair that once again stood in front of his desk. When Snape had sat down, he continued. "The term starts in two weeks, Severus. Have you made arrangements?"

Snape nodded. "I'll be here by the end of the month."

"Good."

"I might have to leave sometimes, if he calls me away."

"As long as you can make arrangements for your classes, you may leave at any time. When you return, you will report to me."

"Yes, sir."

"You can dispense with the formalities, Severus." Dumbledore paused. "Remus tells me you paid him a visit a few weeks ago."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I couldn't find the Potters or Pettigrew, and I wasn't thrilled about having my throat ripped out by Black." Dumbledore continued to stare, so Snape spoke again. "I'm sure he already told you what we talked about."

"Yes, but I think it wise to be prudent."

"I asked him who the Potters' Secret Keeper is."

"And why did you do that?"

"I think the Dark Lord knows who it is. He may be planning something."

"I have no doubt that he is. I assure you, the Secret Keeper, whoever he or she may be, is well aware of that. From now on, I want you to come to me first before taking it upon yourself to question someone."

"But—"

"This isn't a discussion, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I need to know that if I tell you to do something, you'll do it."

Snape narrowed his eyes, meeting Dumbledore's gaze for several moments. Then, he nodded.

Dumbledore inclined his head as well. "I'll see you at the start of term."

Harry hesitated when he reached the fourth memory. It contained two other sets of initials, a quick check of the parchment scroll telling him that they belonged to Aberforth and Hagrid. It was dated October 31st, 1981. The day his parents died. Still, he knew he had to keep going. He had to know what had convinced Hermione.

This time, Harry found himself in the hallway just outside Dumbledore's office. He glanced at the windows and saw that it was already nighttime. Dumbledore had apparently just given the password to the gargoyle's statue, as it leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Dumbledore stepped onto it, and, after he had been carried up a few steps, Harry followed suit.

As Dumbledore pushed open the door to the office, a low hum met Harry's ears. Dumbledore crossed to his desk in a matter of seconds, pulling open the top drawer. He sifted through the parchment until he found the thin, crystal rod, which glowed blue and buzzed in his hand. His fingers closed around it, and he held his fist to his forehead, his eyes fluttering shut. Then, he opened them and lowered his hand, gently snapping the rod in half. The humming stopped at once and the pieces shriveled into blackened sticks.

Dumbledore drew up the hood of his cloak and strode over to the fireplace, throwing in a handful of Floo Powder. "The Hog's Head!"

Harry felt a sickening jerk behind his navel, a swirl of fireplace flashing before his eyes. He landed in the middle of the Hog's Head just in time to see Dumbledore step out of the fireplace. The pub was empty, save for Aberforth, who stood at the counter wiping out a glass with what Harry strongly suspected was the same dirty cloth he would see him using fourteen years later.

"We're closed," Aberforth muttered without looking up.

"I'm not here for a drink," Dumbledore said. "I just need a place to Apparate from."

Aberforth froze, glancing at Dumbledore. Then, he shrugged and waved the cloth dismissively. "By all means."

Harry was prepared this time when he heard the loud crack and felt another forceful tug. This time, he found himself standing in a dark room, his eyes struggling to adjust. Only when Dumbledore rushed forward and crouched down did he see it. Snape lay sprawled on his stomach on the floor, breathing raggedly. A silver dagger jutted out of his back, buried nearly to the hilt.

Dumbledore grabbed the back of Snape's robes and Disapparated again, pulling Harry with them. They reappeared in the Hog's Head.

"Clear the bar," Dumbledore said. He waved his wand over Snape's body, lifting him up onto the bar just as Aberforth finished putting away the last glass. He pressed his fingers lightly against Snape's neck to check his pulse and touched the hilt of the dagger. "Cursed. Healing spells won't work on this. Fawkes!" He called the last word loudly.

Flames burst in midair a few feet away and Fawkes appeared, flapping his wings madly to stay aloft. Dumbledore put his forearm out, allowing the phoenix to close his talons around it, and whispered something to him. He carefully moved his arm so that Fawkes hovered over Snape's back.

Then, he looked up to Aberforth. "Pull out the knife."

Aberforth looked as though he wanted to do nothing of the sort, but he reached out to grip the hilt nevertheless. It seemed to take considerable force pull the dagger out, and a fresh gush of blood came with it. When it was finally out, Fawkes lowered his head, and a few tears spilled from his eyes. The wound shrunk down to nothing, leaving behind a bloody mess.

Dumbledore guided Fawkes to perch on the back of a chair and gently touched Snape's arm. "Severus?"

Snape groaned and began to stir, his eyes opening slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a weak cough.

"Shh, don't try to talk," Dumbledore said. "Can you sit up?"

It took nearly five minutes to get Snape sitting up on his own, his legs dangling over the side of the bar. Dumbledore conjured a clean glass and filled it with water, tilting it up to Snape's lips. Snape drank about half before pushing the glass away.

"The Potters," he rasped. "He's gone...after them."

Dumbledore turned back to Fawkes immediately, whispering to him again. The phoenix vanished at once in another swirl of flames.

"It's too late," Snape said. "They'll be dead by now." He clutched his chest, wincing.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered and he glanced at Aberforth. At that moment, Fawkes returned with a square mirror clutched gently in his beak.

Dumbledore took the mirror in both hands, staring at his reflection. "James?" he said. "Lily?"

Silence filled the room.

He drew his wand and tapped the glass. His reflection disappeared, replaced by a dozen images pieced together, most so dark Harry could not tell what they were. One looked as though it might be someone's arm. Distantly, he heard the sound of a baby crying.

Snape's head snapped up. "Is that...?"

"James?" Dumbledore said a little louder.

Only the cries answered.

A loud tapping noise made everyone look up. A tawny owl perched just outside the window, urgently rapping its beak against the glass. Aberforth crossed the room to let it in. The moment he untied the scroll of parchment from its leg, the owl took off again.

"It's for you," Aberforth said, holding the scroll out to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore unfurled it, and Harry moved closer so he could read the hurried scrawl.

Albus,

The wards have dropped around the Potters' house. The Dark Mark's appeared. The house has collapsed. The Potters said if anything happened to contact you and Sirius. His owl is on its way now.

Arabella Figg

Dumbledore dropped the letter on the bar and went back to studying the mirror. The crying had quieted a bit now, but was still clearly audible.

Aberforth glanced over the parchment. "This must've been sent hours ago."

"That's not possible," Snape said. "He wouldn't leave the boy alive."

"No, he wouldn't," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice. "I need a quill." Once Aberforth had retrieved one for him, he flipped the parchment over and scribbled a quick note on it, which he then held out to Fawkes. "Take this to Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Aberforth said once Fawkes had disappeared.

"I'm sending him to Godric's Hollow."

"But if the Dark Lord's still there—" Snape started.

"He isn't. The attack was hours ago."

"Then, Potter and his wife are..."

"Until Hagrid confirms it, we can only speculate, but yes, they likely are."

"But the boy's alive?"

"We'll know soon," Dumbledore said, "if Hagrid makes it there before Sirius."

Aberforth looked as though he was going to ask something, and then a look of realization dawned on his face. "You think Black was the one who betrayed them."

"He may well have been." Dumbledore set down the mirror and turned to Snape. "Now, what happened?"

Snape took a deep, shaky breath. "I received the summoning just before the Halloween feast. The Dark Lord was making plans for strategical strikes in several locations before leading an army against Hogwarts. He said that a threat would be eliminated tonight."

"And you deduced that he meant Harry?" When Snape nodded, Dumbledore spoke again. "Why didn't you contact me right away?"

"There was no time. He was already leaving. I tried to stop him, but someone stabbed me from behind."

"Who?

"I don't know. I didn't see them."

"Dumbledore!" a gruff voice sounded seemingly from nowhere. Dumbledore retrieved the mirror. The shattered image had been repaired, and Hagrid's face stared out from it.

"Did you find Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I got him here," Hagrid replied. "He's got a nasty lookin' scar, but he's fine otherwise."

"What about James and Lily?"

Hagrid glanced to one side. "Jus' like yeh thought. I found her up here wi' Harry. James is downstairs."

"How much did you tell Minerva?"

"I jus' told her yeh'd be away fer the rest of the day and on Privet Drive tomorrow night."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Hagrid. Remember, no magic. Use the Muggle underground if you have to."

Hagrid nodded and his face disappeared, replaced by Dumbledore's reflection.

Dumbledore set the mirror aside at once and turned to the other two. "I have arrangements to make. Severus, I want you to go back to the school. Don't tell anyone about this. The more we can minimize your involvement, the better. Aberforth, I know I can't stop the rumors. Just try to stay as close to the facts as possible."

Snape climbed down from the bar and made his way toward the fireplace as Dumbledore walked out the door. Harry wanted to follow after, but he noticed that the scene was starting to blur slightly, as though his glasses were fogging up. After a few moments, he could not see anymore, and he had no choice but to draw himself out of the Pensieve.

He stood for a long time, staring at the surface of the memories, trying to sort through his conflicting emotions. Had Snape really tried to stop Voldemort from attacking his parents? It seemed impossible. As his mind struggled to make sense of it all, Harry reached for the next vial.

This memory jumped forward to near the end of Harry's first year and took place within Dumbledore's office once more. Snape arrived through the door this time. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked up from his paperwork with a warm smile. "Yes, Severus, have a seat. I happened to glance at the points hourglasses this morning and noticed that Slytherin has quite a substantial lead. I imagine you're quite proud."

Snape stayed by the door. "You didn't call me here to congratulate me."

"You're quite right," Dumbledore said. "I'd forgotten that you don't like exchanging pleasantries. Perhaps I am starting to live up to my rumored senility."

"Should I come back later, when you've gotten to the point?"

Dumbledore's smile disappeared. "Why didn't you tell me about Quirrell?"

"If I recall correctly, I did. I believe your exact words were, 'Don't bother over it, Severus. Would you care for a brandy?'"

"You didn't tell me that you suspected he was working with Voldemort."

Snape bristled. "I didn't have proof."

"That shouldn't have mattered."

"I thought you already knew."

"I had my suspicions, but that's not the point. You should have come to me. Secrets are dangerous in times like these."

"Really, then? Tell me, how did Potter react when you told him about the prophecy?"

Dumbledore wavered. "That's a different situation. My secret is preserving Harry's innocence. Yours could have killed him and his friends."

"Or maybe you just think you're above it all." Snape turned and walked out of the office.

Dumbledore watched the door for a moment. Then, he picked up his quill. He wrote only a short line on the parchment, however, before he dropped it again. He sat staring down at his desk, looking deeply troubled.

Even as the fog started to settle in over the memory, that image of Dumbledore remained with Harry. When he was in his first year, he had seen Dumbledore as an almost omnipresent being. Though he knew now that Dumbledore was a man with flaws like any other, it still unsettled Harry to see him like that.

Harry was a bit surprised to find that the next memory leapt ahead in time as well, to December of his fifth year. It took place late at night. Dumbledore was in his chair, examining one of the silver instruments from his tables. Much as it had when Harry saw it, the instrument emitted a waft of green smoke, taking the form of a serpent, which split in two. Dumbledore watched pensively.

When Snape arrived, the snakes vanished at once. "This had better be important," he said. "Wormtail's starting to get suspicious."

"I'm afraid it is, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "How is your Legilimency?"

"That depends. What is it needed for?"

"I need you to teach Harry Occlumency."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Yes, and while I'm at it, I'll teach the Giant Squid how to Apparate."

"Harry is more than capable of learning."

"Occlumency would be advanced magic for a seventh year."

"I'm afraid there's no alternative. Voldemort has made the connection between them. It's only a matter of time before he tries to exploit it."

"Why aren't you teaching him?"

"I have my reasons. I will, of course, provide you with a Pensieve in which to store memories. In fact, there are a few which I will insist you extract."

"I see I have no choice in the matter."

Dumbledore looked at Snape over his glasses. "There's always a choice, Severus. Just be mindful of the consequences of your decision."

Snape stared back. "When?" he asked finally.

"You will go to Grimmauld Place near the end of the holidays to tell Harry about the lessons. You may set the times according to your schedule. Twice a week should be sufficient." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "Remember, this is not an interrogation. Don't seek out or narrow in on specific memories. If you find any that shouldn't be there, call attention to them, but don't antagonize him more than necessary."

Snape waited for a few moments. "Anything else?"

"I don't imagine I need to tell you how important this is."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"And that if anything happens to Harry during these sessions—"

"—I'll be out on my arse."

"In a manner of speaking."

"Duly noted."

Dumbledore nodded. "You may go, then. Merry Christmas, Severus."

Snape's lips twitched, and he turned to leave. Dumbledore's eyes followed him out the door and seemed, for a brief moment, to flit to the corner where Harry stood. Then, he sighed and turned his attention back to the silver instrument just as the fog started to roll in.

When Harry pulled the next memory, taking place during the Easter holidays of his fifth year, and reentered the Pensieve, he was a bit disoriented upon finding himself outside. Glancing up and down the dark street lined with small brick houses, Harry spotted a figure cloaked in black, which he assumed was Dumbledore, moving swiftly down the street. Harry hurried to catch up, nearly tripping when Dumbledore stopped without warning in front of the house at the end of the street. Then, he stepped up to the door and knocked.

Several moments passed before the door finally opened, revealing Snape on the other side. Dumbledore stepped forward without invitation, and Harry slipped in after him. They entered a cramped sitting room, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves.

Snape shut the door at once, locking it. "Isn't this a bit risky? Half the Ministry's out looking for you."

"I imagine they're not the only ones." Dumbledore pulled down his hood and drew his wand. Though he did not point it at Snape, it was an understood threat. "Why did you stop Harry's Occlumency lessons?"

"You got the message then?" Snape said. Though his face was a careful mask, his eyes did flit to the wand briefly. "I knew Aberforth was holding out on me."

"Answer the question." Dumbledore's tone was unaccusing, but all kindness had gone from his eyes.

"I imagine your brother's already told you. Potter stuck his nose where it didn't belong."

"Curiosity is not a sin, Severus."

"I quite disagree."

"Is your reputation worth Harry's life?"

"Is yours?"

Dumbledore took a step backwards. "We've been over this. I'm keeping the prophecy from Harry to protect him."

Snape met his gaze. "You have a funny definition of 'protection.'"

"Yours is on shaky grounds. I can't get word to the Order without betraying my location to the Ministry, but rest assured, I will regain my position as headmaster sooner or later. When I do, consider your career at Hogwarts over." He lowered his voice. "And if you interfere in the Order's business again or harm Harry in any way, dismissing you is the least of what I will do." He drew his hood back up and pointed his wand at the door, which sprang open. "Good night, Severus."

When Harry drew out of the Pensieve this time, he glanced at the clock and sat in the desk chair, rubbing his eyes. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning, and he felt as though he was getting nowhere. Or, rather, he felt as though he was being jerked back and forth between believing that Hermione could be right and wanting to scream at her for being stupid.

More than anything else, he was agitated with Dumbledore. He had told Harry countless times that he trusted Snape. Thus far, the memories seemed to be proving quite the contrary. Also, if he had wanted for Harry to see these memories so much, why had he hidden them away in a cabinet with what probably amounted to thousands of others?

Harry sighed and picked up the next vial, dated in June of that same year. He recognized it as the day after Sirius died. If nothing else, he had to know why Dumbledore had not sacked Snape when he returned to Hogwarts.

This one returned him to the office. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a calm expression illuminated by the morning light spilling through the window. Harry glanced around the room, feeling his face grow hot as his eyes fell on the tables that lay overturned, the silver instruments smashed and scattered throughout the room.

When Snape entered, he also surveyed the mess. "Redecorating?"

"I thought I'd wait to do the repairs," Dumbledore replied, "to insure that I learn from my mistakes. Have a seat."

Snape stayed where he was. "If you're going to dismiss me, do it. I have things I need to take care of."

Dumbledore stared at him for several moments. "I'm not going to dismiss you," he said.

Snape looked taken aback. "I thought—"

"You've kept information from me. You endangered everyone by stopping Harry's Occlumency lessons. You interfered in the Order's business, even after I told you the consequences..." Dumbledore paused briefly. "...and, in doing so, you saved the lives of six students."

"I don't understand."

"Even knowing that it couldn't help your situation, you told the Order where Harry had gone. A truly selfless act." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "You were right, Severus. I should have told Harry about the prophecy. True loyalty is shown through honesty, even in the face of persecution. If I can't forgive you your mistakes, how can I live with my own?" He sighed, shaking his head. "You may go."

Snape still did not move. "I've been called to a meeting after the term ends. I think he's inducting new Death Eaters."

Dumbledore nodded. "Go. The most important thing right now is to keep your cover."

Snape hesitated. "If I'm asked to do something—"

"I stand by what I said. I trust you to use your judgment to determine what is necessary."

Snape paused for a split second longer before finally turning to leave.

Harry left the memory and reached for the next without hesitation, his exhaustion forgotten. He knew he was reaching the final stretch now. These last four memories would have to convince him one way or the other. He found that the next one took place in early July and contained Hagrid and McGonagall's initials in addition to Snape's. He shook the memory into the Pensieve and plunged his face into it.

Harry had just enough time to register that he was outside the gates of Hogwarts when he heard a light snap and a brief, low humming noise behind him. He turned just in time to see the blackened sticks fall from Dumbledore's shaking fingers. He trudged up the path, his right arm clutched tightly to his chest. His hand was shriveling, blackened skin spreading from the spot where the cracked ring was still on his finger. As Harry watched, Dumbledore's legs gave out and he sank to his knees.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid came running down the path from the Forbidden Forest, carrying his crossbow over one shoulder. He pushed the gate open and reached down to pull Dumbledore to his feet. "Wha' happened to yer hand?"

"Never mind that Hagrid," Dumbledore said, standing up straight. "I need to find Severus."

"I'll take yeh to Madame Pomfrey," Hagrid said. He rested one hand on Dumbledore's shoulder and started to lead him up the path with so much force he nearly knocked him over again.

"No, Hagrid," Dumbledore said firmly. "I—"

"Hagrid." Snape walked swiftly up the path leading from the school. "I'll take him from here."

Hagrid hesitated. "I can carry him to the hospital wing..."

"That's quite all right, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, stepping out of Hagrid's grasp, his weakness vanishing in spite of his withering hand. "I imagine you have hippogriffs that need looking after."

Hagrid still looked uneasy, but he turned and started toward his hut.

Once he was out of earshot, Snape rushed forward to support Dumbledore, who looked once more on the verge of collapse. "You've been gone for two days," he said. "You're lucky he didn't call me away."

Dumbledore pulled back the sleeve of his injured arm. "If he had, I would've waited."

Snape drew his wand and waved it over the hand. Nothing happened. He tried several more times until the withering finally stopped. "The stasis won't hold for long. I'll need to brew the potion right away."

"You go ahead." Dumbledore took a few steps away, shaking his sleeve down to cover his hand. "I'll follow."

"But—"

"It'll look less suspicious. Go."

Snape moved swiftly back up the path. Dumbledore waited until he had disappeared from sight before beginning his trek toward the castle.

Dumbledore's progress was agonizingly slow, though he still masked his weakness, keeping his hand tucked out of sight. If Harry did not know any better, he would have just thought that Dumbledore was out for a stroll.

Upon entering the castle, they passed Professor McGonagall. "Welcome back, Albus," she said. "How was your trip to Bulgaria?"

"Trying, I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied. "Headmaster Daskal is not quite as forthcoming as Igor was. We'll talk more later over tea. I need to have a word with Severus." He continued across the hall and descended to the dungeons.

By the time they reached the office, Snape was already standing before a cauldron, stirring a deep blue potion inside. "How long?" Dumbledore asked.

"Just a moment for it to thicken," Snape said. "You're lucky this potion doesn't need long to brew."

"Luck does seem to win out, doesn't it?" Dumbledore sat in the chair in front of the desk, cradling his injured hand.

"Is that it, then?" Snape asked, indicating the ring. "I imagined it would be a bit more extravagant."

"The worth lies in its history," Dumbledore replied. "Voldemort chose it for its meaning, not its price."

"Hmm." Snape dipped a ladle into the potion and let the thick liquid slowly drip back into the cauldron. "It's ready."

Dumbledore stood and moved over to the cauldron, reaching toward it with his good hand.

Snape grabbed his wrist to stop him. "The damage has spread too far to apply it directly. You'll need to submerge the hand."

Dumbledore drew up the sleeve of his afflicted hand to the elbow, maneuvered it over the cauldron, and nodded. Snape drew his wand and performed a complicated set of motions. Dumbledore tensed up, and Harry briefly saw the skin start to wither again before Dumbledore plunged the hand deep into the cauldron. His eyes squeezed shut and he sucked in a quick breath.

"I know, it's cold," Snape said. "Just a few more seconds. That should do it."

Dumbledore withdrew his arm, the potion clinging to the deadened skin. Snape waved his wand to clean it away, leaving behind the withered hand that had so shocked Harry the first time he saw it.

"You shouldn't have gone alone," Snape said, flicking his wand at the cauldron. The rest of the potion vanished.

"I didn't know what spells might have been cast," Dumbledore said, carefully prying the ring from his finger and sitting down. "I didn't want to endanger anyone."

"If you'd allowed me to go, I might've been able to stop the curse's spread sooner."

"A small price to pay."

"And just how much of a price will be paid before this is all over?"

Dumbledore paused, slowly flexing his charred fingers. He could not move them far. "Quite a high one, I am certain. Do you have any news for me?"

Snape did not speak for a moment. "Draco Malfoy has become a Death Eater."

Dumbledore looked up at once. "He's recruiting young again?"

"Hardly. He's made it quite clear that this is a punishment for Lucius. Word is that he's already given Draco an assignment."

"Do you know what it is?"

Snape shook his head. "No doubt something he can't handle."

"How did Narcissa react?"

"I don't know yet. But she confided in me when Lucius was captured. I have no doubt that she'll come to me about this as well. Should I try to find out?"

Dumbledore seemed to think it over. "Let her believe that you already know. Do whatever you can to gain her favor. If we're lucky, she'll let slip enough details for us to piece together." He stood. "I told Minerva I'd have tea with her. If anyone asks about my hand, tell them that I only had you heal it. I didn't tell you how it happened." When Snape nodded, he turned to leave, and the fog rolled in.

The next memory, dated only a week later, took Harry back to Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, writing left-handed on a small scroll of parchment, Slytherin's ring on his finger. The fireplace flared green and Snape stepped through.

Dumbledore barely glanced up. "I wasn't expecting you today, Severus. I'll be with you in a minute."

"Narcissa visited me," Snape said. "Bellatrix came with her."

Dumbledore lowered the quill at once. "What happened?"

"I tried to convince them that the Dark Lord had already entrusted me with the information. Naturally, Bellatrix tried to discredit me."

"Did you gain her favor?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Snape hesitated. "You said that you trusted my judgment?"

Dumbledore met his gaze for several moments. Then, he nodded. "I still do."

"I took an Unbreakable Vow."

"To do what?"

"To watch Draco, protect him, and carry out his assigned task if he should fail."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, staring down at the desk for a long time. "Did they give any clues as to what the task might be?"

"Not that I could discern."

Dumbledore paused. "Certainly it's difficult, or it would be done already. I would hazard a guess that it involves an infiltration of Hogwarts, given Narcissa's insistence that you should watch over him."

"Do you have any idea of what it could be?"

"I have no doubt that it's murder. Voldemort wouldn't go through such an elaborate set-up for anything less. And there are only two people here that would warrant it."

"You and Potter."

"Precisely." Dumbledore turned his attention back down to the parchment, but did not pick up his quill again. His eyes flicked briefly to the ring. "And it's not Harry."

"How can—?"

"I'm quite certain." Dumbledore stood, rolling up the parchment. "If you'll excuse me, I have an owl to send. I'm retrieving Harry from Privet Drive later this week, and I thought it best to inform him first."

"What do you want me to do?"

Another pause. "Do what you vowed to do. Watch and protect Mr. Malfoy. If, in the process, you discover any useful information, report back to me."

"What of the last part of the vow?"

"We'll discuss that later. If we're right to believe that his plan involves Hogwarts, I think we can safely assume that he won't make any attempts until the term starts."

"What if we're wrong?"

"Then I trust you to make the judgment call yourself. Good day, Severus."

Harry waited until Snape was gone and withdrew from the memory, reaching for the next. Outside the window, the sun was already starting to rise, but he judged that he had enough time to watch the last two.

Harry found himself back in Dumbledore's office on a sunny afternoon in mid-October. Around the room, the former headmasters and headmistresses were asleep in their portraits. Only one portrait was conspicuously empty. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, watching this portrait with rapt attention.

Snape entered the room. "You wanted to see me?"

"Have a seat," Dumbledore said without even glancing his direction.

As though on cue, Dilys Derwent appeared in her portrait. "It was hit and miss for a while there, but Katie Bell will live," she said. "She'll need to remain in the hospital until further notice."

"Thank you, Dilys." Dumbledore turned to Snape. "There's no question about it now."

"That necklace could have been sent by anyone for anyone," Snape said.

"The attempt was too juvenile for an experienced Death Eater. It has to have been a student. Mr. Malfoy is the only candidate."

"You still can't know that it was meant for you."

"No, but I can make an educated guess."

Snape hesitated. "Then, if Draco fails..."

"When," Dumbledore corrected. "Mr. Malfoy may be a Death Eater, but I have full confidence that he's not a murderer."

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm going to die?"

"No, Severus. I'm not."

Snape stared. "You can't be asking me to—"

"No. Not yet. There is still too much that Harry doesn't know."

"I won't—"

Dumbledore stood. "We're not going to discuss this now. Keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy and try to learn as much as you can. Offer to help him if you have to. I need to know what time frame I may be looking at." With that, he stood up and walked toward the door.

Harry drew out of the Pensieve so swiftly he nearly fell over. He rested a hand against the desk, fighting to sort through a sudden onslaught of thoughts and emotions. He shook his head. He could not believe it. He would not believe it. He must have mistaken what Dumbledore was saying. This next memory would prove it. He reached for the last vial, his hand shaking so badly he nearly dropped it.

Harry found himself on the path outside the Hogwarts gates once more, this time at night. Dumbledore walked up to the gates and pushed them open, stepping onto the grounds. There was a flurry of movement near the Forbidden Forest, and Snape appeared from the shadows, moving to head Dumbledore off.

"I don't have time just now, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"You've been avoiding me for months," Snape said.

Dumbledore sidestepped him and started toward the castle. "If you'll come by my office later—"

"There might not be a later," Snape said, "Albus."

Dumbledore froze in his tracks, turning back. "What do you mean by that?" he asked in a low voice.

"It means what it means."

"You know that I can't allow you to leave the school. Not now."

"You take too much for granted. You can't just move people around like pawns."

"Severus—"

"I can't do this anymore. You can't honestly expect me to—"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice rang out more harshly than Harry had ever heard it. "You agreed when I hired you that you would do what I ask."

"But—"

"In the meantime, you will continue as you were. Widen your investigation to the entirety of Slytherin House. I want to know if anyone's been helping him." He began to walk away.

Snape, seemingly stunned into silence, shook himself and hurried to catch up. "I won't do it."

Dumbledore stopped again, lowering his voice. "If you don't do it, someone else will. Self-sacrifice is noble, but there will still be a need for you after I'm gone. Please, Severus."

Harry flinched and pulled himself sharply from the memory, unable to stand it anymore. He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers over his eyes. Now he understood why Dumbledore had been so secretive with him. He knew why Dumbledore had forced him onto the sidelines on the Astronomy Tower. He was not trying to protect Harry. He was trying to stop him from interfering.

Harry was not sure how he felt about that. His anger had already been spent on Snape and Hermione, there was none left for Dumbledore. Betrayal was certainly a part of it, but even that was subdued. Overwhelmed was a better word. Dumbledore had known. All of those times he had called Harry to his office, he knew that Snape was going to kill him. He might not have known when it would happen, but he knew it was going to.

A loud knock jolted Harry from his thoughts. He glanced at the door, not comprehending for a moment. The knock sounded again, more insistently, and the doorknob rattled. Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he realized that he was still in Hermione's room.

"Harry," a low voice called. "Are you there? Please, let me in."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, stood on shaky legs, and went to answer the door.

Hermione's tension seemed to ease as well when she saw him. "Thank God. I've been checking in every half hour since five o'clock."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, casting his gaze at the floor. Now that his anger with her had burned away, he felt embarrassed for how he had treated her. "Where's Ron?"

"Still upstairs. We decided I should probably leave in case Mrs. Weasley decided to check in on him." She dipped her head a bit, trying to catch Harry's eye. "Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know."

"But you understand now, right?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't understand everything, but..." He trailed off, glancing up and down the hall. "How much did you tell Ron?"

"Just the basics. That Dumbledore...well, that Snape was just following his orders. With the way things have been lately, I thought you might be more comfortable seeing the memories alone."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Hermione paused and reached out to touch his arm. "I'm sure Dumbledore didn't mean for you to find out this way. He—"

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Harry said. When she withdrew her hand sharply, he felt a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're right, I shouldn't have—"

"No, I meant I'm sorry for everything. For yelling, for..."

"It's okay. I understand."

"Is Ron still angry?"

She hesitated again. "He said some things. I don't...I don't think he really meant them."

"Yeah." Harry was far from convinced.

There was a long stretch of silence. "Mrs. Weasley's going to ask about what happened," Hermione said. "I know it's still a lot to ask, but—"

"—but we can't tell anyone," Harry finished for her.

She nodded. "A few might take our side, but most would still see him as a murderer, and Aberforth, his accomplice. The Order might try to use us to capture them." When Harry did not speak, she glanced around to make sure they were alone and spoke again in a whisper. "Snape's the one who helped me figure out how to destroy the Horcruxes."

Harry gave a start. "What?"

"While we were at the Burrow. He gave me the Caedus and taught me how to make the Extraction Potion for the cup." She held up her injured hand. "And that salve I used was the same one he used on Dumbledore's hand. Please, Harry. If nothing else, think of the resource we'll be losing."

Harry stared at a spot on the floor. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded.

Hermione offered him a small, grateful smile. "I can tell Mrs. Weasley that you're not feeling well if you want."

"No," Harry said. He stepped out of the room and shut the door. He could handle this. He had to.

-

"That's quite impressive, Ron," Kingsley said, "knocking out the guards. Especially in your condition."

Ron shrugged, his ears turning red. Kingsley had arrived just after breakfast to question them about what happened. As he, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny listened, Hermione told a harrowing story of escape from the ruins of St. Dymphna's. She modified it heavily, reducing the number of guards to just a few and leaving out all but the most basic details. When asked why she was using the Floo Network in the first place, she said that she had been trying to connect her parents' fireplace temporarily so she could talk to them. She told them about seeing Theodore Nott, but failed to mention Narcissa Malfoy. By the time she was finished, she managed to make herself look bad and Ron sound like a hero.

"But," Kingsley continued, glancing between Harry and Ron, "I want to make it clear that I don't approve of what you did. You-Know-Who set that trap to capture you, Harry, and he almost succeeded. You should have waited and contacted me."

Harry fought the urge to argue. He wanted to get this over with.

Kingsley sighed and stood, turning to Mrs. Weasley. "I'll contact Alastor right away. I imagine the ruins have been cleared out already, but I'll have him do a sweep anyway."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Thank you." Once he had gone, she rose as well. "Come on, Ginny. We have meals to pass out. You three, stay out of trouble. I mean it."

The moment the door shut, Hermione sighed. "That went well."

Harry did not say anything, setting to making a plate for Malfoy. It occurred to him that Malfoy had not eaten in a couple of days, so he piled on as much food as would fit. He noticed that Ron was staring at the table, looking exceedingly uncomfortable. Luckily, Hermione did not comment.

Harry found his room in much the same mess as when he had left it the previous night. Malfoy, who seemed to have at least showered and changed his clothes, was sitting in the corner by his miniature maze, staring at it with wide, unfocused eyes. When the door shut, his back straightened, his head snapping up.

"Breakfast," Harry said. Malfoy did not move, so Harry made his way across the room, setting the plate beside him. Then, he sat on the edge of his bed.

Malfoy stared at the plate, as though trying to figure out what it was. Finally, he picked up a piece of toast and slowly began to eat. He cleared only half of the plate before turning his attention back on the maze.

Harry waited for a few moments before speaking. "Are you—?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Potter?" Malfoy said, his gaze unwavering as he reached into the maze and began to rearrange the red balls inside. "Don't act like you care."

Harry, slightly thrown off, could not think of a good response. Instead, he said the first thing that occurred to him. "I saw your mother."

Malfoy flinched, a ball slipping through his fingers and bouncing across the room.

"She's alive," Harry said. He did not see any reason to lie, nor did the thought even occur to him. "Voldemort has her locked up, but she's alive."

Malfoy's eyes flickered, though his expression remained blank otherwise. "Did..." He paused, swallowing. "Did she say anything?"

"She asked about you. I told her you were fine."

Malfoy nodded his head once to himself. Then, he stood suddenly, his legs still bowed and shaky from spending so long in the trunk, and stumbled into the bathroom. The door swung shut with a hollow bang.

Harry stared after him. After a few moments, he got up and retrieved the red ball, placing it carefully back in the maze. He then set to work, picking up the clothes, schoolbooks, and other items on the floor. As he opened the trunk, he paused, staring into it, breathing in the rancid smell that still lingered. He tried to imagine spending two days crammed into that tiny space in total darkness, but he could not. He remembered what it was like to be locked in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys' house, but he realized at once that that was nothing compared to this.

With considerable force, Harry finally managed to tear his eyes away. He performed a quick cleaning spell on the trunk and began tossing things haphazardly inside, trying to fill that empty space that still threatened to grab his attention. When he had finished, he closed the lid, leaning against it to make it latch, and went back to his bed to lie down.

He was exhausted. It seemed an eternity since the last time he had slept. Longer, if one did not count being unconscious in that cell. Still, it was a long time before he fell asleep.

Malfoy still had not returned from the bathroom.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. I tried not to be as mean with the cliffhanger this time. Next chapter: regressions, meager celebrations, and further explanations. When Hermione makes a deduction based on a disturbing observation, Harry is faced with his hardest decision yet. The next chapter won't be nearly as long as this one was, but I imagine the return of Draco will make up for that.