A/N: This chapter is dedicated to recent favoriter Oliviian! Welcome to the party, and long may you enjoy.

-C

Lydia felt sick to her stomach even as she approached Albus's office. For a couple of weeks, they'd dug through her nightmares as often as he would allow her. They watched her be attacked repeatedly by fire, explosions corpses of friends, funerals, Sirius, Dalia, Bellatrix Lestrange, darkness, blood, rats….

"Your psyche is remarkably formulaic," Albus remarked a few days prior, after a walk through a memory where Sirius tried to strangle her for what felt like the dozenth time.

"Unusually so?" Lydia had asked.

"Quite."

He hadn't been prepared to say what he made of that at the time, but Lydia couldn't get it out of her head. If her nightmares weren't right somehow, if they didn't make sense for nightmares, what did that mean? Were even the monsters in the shadows of her mind the product of someone else controlling her? Was anything in her life even down to her?

Albus welcomed her with a barely steaming mug of tea and a gentle smile. Lydia said nothing, sitting across from him and taking a few sips of the tea after she'd sniffed it. Albus didn't mind the suspicion. In fact, he had fully supported Severus's suggestion that she be careful with everything she consumed until whomever was attacking her was apprehended, Quirinus or otherwise.

"Have you found anything in the patterns yet?" Lydia asked, frowning at Albus's already-extensive notes.

"What is astonishing is how firm the patterns themselves are," Albus said, not looking up as he thumbed through his notes. "I could chart every nightmare from the time we can say the string began and tell you exactly what you would dream of tonight if you chose not to take your potion. And dreams do not work that way, Lydia."

"No," Lydia said, frowning. "I don't suppose they do."

"And then there's the nightmares before the string," he said, flipping to a smaller but densely notated section of the journal. "Almost always about your parents or their deaths. Some about Mary. A handful about the war, but your parents and Mary left a more significant scar on you than even the events of the war."

"What does that tell us about the newer nightmares?" Lydia asked.

He looked up finally, sad and stern.

"It doesn't," he said. "But it tells me a great deal about you."

"But how—?"

"Even if someone exerts influence on your psyche, Lydia, they have only the raw material of your existing psyche to work with. It tells me something about you, and the gaps between the two tells me about the person who is doing this, and what they know about you. Nightmares about your parents, for example, have all but stopped in the past five years."

Lydia sat back, surprised she hadn't noticed. Something that had been such a key part of her darkest recesses wouldn't just vanish, but he was right, it shouldn't have faded as much as it had. She chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to think what it could mean.

"Someone who doesn't know about my parents' death?"

"Or doesn't know enough about it," Albus said. "Details, certainly. Logistics. Which means they do know something about the other events. Mary's death, Artemis's death, Lily and James's death, Peter's death, the Order funerals…"

Lydia shivered again. The only person who would know all those things was...Sirius. But he couldn't be attacking her. Could he?

"Sirius is safely in his cell," Albus said. When she gave him an annoyed frown, his lips twitched at being caught reading the surface of her thoughts. "And Remus would know them as well, I suppose."

"Yes," Lydia said, frowning. "Sirius knew the details about my parents, actually. Most of them."

But Remus didn't. Remus knew very little about it, except that her parents were dead while she was still in school. But it couldn't be. This felt too much like Sirius trying to convince her that Remus was the spy.

"I don't think Remus is trying to hurt you, Lydia," Albus said firmly. "But at present, he might be our best link to whomever might be. Has he mentioned anyone to you that he still speaks to? Someone from the Order or from school, perhaps?"

Lydia rubbed her forehead. She couldn't think of many people. Diggle, she thought. Someone female, but she couldn't remember the name. Davey Gudgeon.

"That's all I can recall," Lydia said. "I'm not even sure how current any of that is."

"That's alright," Albus said gently. "It's a starting point. I doubt any of them would hurt you, either, although Dedalus has a bit of a gossiping streak when he's had too much." He tapped his chin. "It also can't be ignored that Sirius had associates he passed information to before his imprisonment."

Lydia shuddered again. Death Eaters. What had he told people before he was put away? How many that he associated with were still wandering the streets, unsuspected and potentially lethal?

"Of course, that doesn't help much for disproving Severus's theory," Albus muttered, more to himself than to Lydia. "If Sirius's notes on you were passed to Lord Voldemort, as I suspect they were, then if he is correct and Quirinus did stumble upon the disembodied Dark Lord in an Albanian forest, he would know about such things as well."

"But it started before Quirinus came to Hogwarts," Lydia insisted. "A couple of years before."

Albus agreed that none of the evidence was yet conclusive, but that it did narrow the field. If it were not Quirinus, he said, the only possibility on the staff was Severus, "And I think we can both agree that's unlikely," he said, his eyes twinkling.

She thought it was impossible, but a sick feeling, almost like a voice in the back of her head, reminded her she once thought it was impossible that Sirius would hurt her. And look where they all were now.

"Well," he said, setting his notes aside, open to a semi-blank page, "I believe it's time to dive in. Would you agree?"

Lydia didn't agree. She didn't want to go into her nightmares again, but she knew it was important. She stood, setting aside the remainder of her tea. Albus took her hand, and she was surprised when he squeezed lightly. He was such a pain so often; she did forget he could be kind.

They were in the forest when they stepped into her nightmare. It was more a memory than a dream, for Lydia. It wasn't like with her parents, where the nightmares were sometimes exaggerations or twisted versions of the truth. Dalia and Severus were dueling, and Lydia was frantically looking for a way to help Severus.

"Ah," Albus said softly. "I don't think we need to stand so close to this one."

Again with the kindness, but Lydia didn't question it. They strolled away from the fight. Dalia had her wand at Severus's throat now, and he was desperately reaching for his wand. They couldn't hear Dalia's taunts from their distance, and Lydia was still trying to think of something to do.

"The knife," Albus whispered, "belonged to Lucius Malfoy, did it not?"

"I think it technically belongs to Narcissa," Lydia said. She could see the knife in her hand now, and she could see her launch at Dalia, stabbing her back, pulling it out. Dalia turned, surprised, and Lydia stabbed her again. "I couldn't get the feeling of the blood off my hands for weeks."

"Unsurprising," Albus whispered. "The taking of a life is never an easy thing, Lydia, not for anyone. There are those who find ways to numb the effects on their soul, but the impact is unavoidable. They just feel it less."

"What does that say about Severus's soul?" Lydia whispered.

"There are holes, to be sure," Albus said. The nightmare faded and they stepped back into the office. Albus helped Lydia to her seat and pressed the cup into her hands. "Severus has things to hold onto, however, unlike some. Things that help him keep his soul together when some would rip theirs apart."

Lydia wondered which Sirius was, someone who held his soul together or tore it apart. She was afraid to even speculate out loud, not wanting to know what Albus thought. She was almost more afraid of what he would think about her asking than she was about asking.

"That nightmare," Albus said, wetting his quill. "How long after the event, if you recall?"

"Probably weeks," Lydia said, rubbing her temple. "I had a lot like it. They…faded and then stopped when—"

"When the other nightmares came in," Albus said, nodding. "That was what I expected. It fits the pattern. The dreams also became more surreal after the shift point."

"Did that help us at all?" Lydia asked.

She sipped her tea as Albus considered the question, the data, perhaps something else entirely. He was too difficult to read to be sure, and Lydia never wanted to take it for granted that she understood Albus. She'd done that before, and he had a way of letting down her expectations.

"Perhaps," Albus said. "We are no closer, I think, but it suggests something about what the attacker knew or didn't know about the event."

"That they didn't know details," Lydia whispered.

"There was very little told in the papers, almost nothing at all," Albus said. "Students knew almost nothing, on the whole. Even the staff wouldn't know much. Only Severus knew everything."

"And we already know it isn't Severus."

Albus hummed, scratching his chin. He seemed to be trying to recall something, but it was eluding him. But again, Lydia couldn't be sure it had anything to do with her case.

"That was a fairly short nightmare," Albus said. "And we were not directly involved in it as with many others. We could try another, if you feel up to it."

She didn't feel up to it, but she checked her watch. She certainly had time, and the sooner she went through her psyche, the sooner they could move on. This one might be some key, some clue to what was happening.

"Alright," she said. She took a large gulp of her tea. There was a little left for after, but the cup was mostly empty. "Another it is."

The next nightmare was bizarre. They stood in utter darkness, almost floating, as there was no appreciable floor to stand on. She could see her body floating, and she was about to ask Albus what it meant when she could see the rats materialize. The skittering across the surface of her skin, seeming to surround her, was horrifying, and Lydia had no especial issue with rats. Her dream self was totally still, her body tense, but as if she was petrified and couldn't react, not with a shudder or even a scream.

"How very interesting," Albus whispered.

"Why is it like this?" Lydia asked.

"Was it after you had the potion made for you?"

Lydia hummed, not totally sure. She said it might be.

"I suspect," Albus whispered, "that this is a very important clue. I suspect this was a night you took your potion, and so it is not, strictly speaking, a dream. It is far closer to the surface of your conscious mind, like that space where a dream meets the drowsy just-waking mind."

"The dreams we remember best," Lydia said.

"Indeed," Albus said. "I would suggest it would be a thing as unimportant as a rat actually crossing your leg in the night, however…."

"However?"

He didn't speak again until the dream ended, and they were back in his office. When she sat, he whispered, "It is very unlikely that a rat not kept as a pet would go onto the bed, but rather under it," he said. "They are extremely unlikely to approach two sleeping humans. And the recurring imagery after the shift point of rats in someone who has no phobia or feelings about rats is…not insignificant."

Lydia wished she'd taken Divination for perhaps the first time in her life. She knew that there were supposed to be all kinds of things you could glean from symbols in dreams, but if rats had a special symbol, she had no guesses what they meant. Lydia was about to ask when Albus said, "None of your friends had a pet rat, did they?"

"Pet rat?" Lydia said, astonished that anyone would bother.

"It is not terribly common," Albus said with a nod, "but some students do bring them as a familiar in place of a toad, cat, or owl."

"They're not listed on the letter."

"Well, it is typically…poorer families. I believe the Weasleys have a family rat, for example. There was another about ten years gone, but it contracted a rare condition they couldn't afford to have rectified. Regardless, was there a rat among anyone you knew?"

Albus had no idea what he was asking, but the question did prompt Lydia to recall Peter. She looked at her thumbs to avoid him looking at her memories. Her eyes stung as she thought of Peter, of how he ended up. Such a sweet boy.

"Not that I know of," Lydia said carefully. If he ever did learn about the boys becoming Animagi, she wanted to give herself a bit of plausible deniability.

She was sure Albus was suspicious, although she couldn't tell if it was her story he suspected. She swallowed the last cool bit of tea, and she rubbed her thumb along the handle of the cup. In some ways, it was easier to lie to Albus than to Severus. Despite meddling continually in her life, she had the impression that Albus didn't really care about her or pay attention to her, where Severus had spent most of their lives caring and worrying and watching. Lying to him had always been impossible.

"It's something I would have to consider," Albus said, scribbling something in his notes. "Perhaps Remus might recall something."

Lydia's stomach lurched at the thought that he'd ask Remus about the rats. Remus, who always felt guilty for those precious nights with his friends, the betrayal of Albus's trust. At the slightest nudge, he might divulge everything to Albus. The Animagi, the nights out, the Map. And if he mentioned the Map and Albus went looking for it in Filch's things…and what if he found out the twins had it and traced it back to Lydia somehow?

"I'd rather you didn't talk to Remus about any of this," Lydia said tightly.

"I wouldn't mention—"

"He's not stupid, Albus," Lydia said, rubbing her eyes. "Asking him if we knew anyone who had pet rats, out of the blue? He'll wonder why. He'll ask me. I don't want to lie to him, and I don't want him knowing about any of this."

She had her walls in place when she met Albus's gaze again, relieved that he didn't press on them as he met her gaze. Perhaps he could tell they were there and didn't want to alarm her. He seemed to prefer scanning undetected to having any struggles for his information. Lydia suddenly found Severus's sometimes intrusive compunction for being up-front to be charming.

"Very well," Albus said. "If you don't wish to involve Remus, I can understand that. He has a lot on, and he might react rashly if he thought you were in immediate danger. But Lydia, Severus's paranoia…it doesn't suit you. In a war, perhaps I would encourage it, but in peacetime—"

"One thing I'm realizing, Albus," Lydia whispered, "is that war never really ends. One trails off and bleeds into the next, and maybe there are thin spots between the conflict, but we're never really at peace, are we? There are still Death Eaters out there. I've been attacked multiple times in peacetime, at this school. And you aren't denying that there might be something in Severus's theory about Quirinus, which suggests that you believe it's possible that the Dark Lord is out there somewhere, wandering the earth, waiting for an opportunity to return."

Albus folded his hands and sat up straighter. His jaw was set, and Lydia couldn't recall him ever look so serious except at funerals.

"Someone tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone," he whispered. "Something, or someone, has been attacking unicorns in the forest."

"Unicorns?" Lydia asked, confused. "Awfully fast to catch one, I'd think."

Albus inclined his head, and Lydia realized what he was getting at. It wasn't something one heard of often, but she knew there was an old myth that drinking the blood of a unicorn could keep someone alive, no matter what they were dying of. Biding time before going for the Elixir of Life, perhaps. And if someone were half-dead, perhaps disembodied… She shivered.

"You think he's trying to come back," Lydia whispered. "You think he's here, or nearby, and he's trying to come back."

He said nothing, which to Lydia, said everything. Whether he believed Severus's theory being about Quirinus or not, he did believe that the person going for the Stone was a servant of the Dark Lord.

"Harry—"

"Is being closely watched and protected," Albus whispered. "By both myself and Severus, which as you know, is perhaps the best protection anyone can ask for. It isn't Harry who has been attacked in his bed twice, Lydia. It is not Harry who has been drugged and nearly strangled in his sleep."

"No," Lydia said, standing. "No, he was just almost killed on a broomstick in front of the whole of the school. You forget, Albus, that I know exactly what can happen to someone you are guarding. I've been nearly kidnapped and sacrificed while under your protection, because you have a penchant for using your charges as bait. If I ever find out you used Harry to…"

She shivered again.

"I think I've had enough for one day," she whispered. "Don't expect me after dinner."

"Tomorrow at lunch, then?" Albus said.

It wasn't really a question, and Lydia had no interest in answering it. She would be back tomorrow, but not because she wouldn't be angry with Albus. She would be back because she needed to know. She needed to feel safe again so she could focus on keeping Harry safe.

A/N: So, Lydia is digging deeper into her nightmares, Albus is starting to form a portrait of what sort of person might be messing with her, and he confesses in part what he suspects about Voldemort. And Lydia is freaked. And I'm super enjoying this part of the story, like more than I thought I would.

I'm about to write my first chapter with Lockhart in it, btw, and I'm STOKED. I'm scared of just how much I'm looking forward to it.

Review Prompt: Why do you think Albus said as much as he did to Lydia about Voldemort?

-C