Note: It's finally finished! The ending is a little abrupt, but I wanted to leave room to add alternate endings. I seriously considered having it all be a dream that Voldemort was manipulating and I may go back one day and write the ending for that. Thank you to everyone who's left kudos, commented, and stuck with it to the end. ️ you all!

The next morning arrived with overcast skies and heavy bouts of rain. Water poured from the castle's pitched roofs, wreaking havoc on those who were unfortunate enough to have classes outdoors. Between the torrential downpours, raging winds, and continuous lightening it was nearly impossible to reach the greenhouses let alone hold Care of Magical Creatures. However, this was the least of Harry's worries.

He had arrived back at the castle just before daybreak, his clothes a muddy mess from the road. To his relief, he had made it back to the dormitory without incident, but after hurriedly discarding his filth covered robes, he had barely enough time to change for the day before his roommates awoke. He was forced to pretend that he was dressing for breakfast instead of climbing into bed for the first time.

Ron accompanied him to breakfast, complaining incessantly about his restless night of sleep. Harry bit back a sarcastic reply and, instead, played the part of a concerned friend all the way to the Gryffindor table. He sat down quickly, reaching for a plate of bacon, thankful for the distraction.

"How did your lessons with Dumbledore go, " Hermione asked, joining them at the table. She immediately buried her face into the morning's issue of the Daily Prophet.

"We moved it to tonight, " he said wearily while poking a sausage onto his plate. He tried to stifle a yawn but failed as his mouth opened wide. "Filtch had some sort of problem."

"Then where were you, " Ron asked, his brow furrowing.

Harry felt his heart leap as he realized his mistake. He had had no time to prepare an excuse for his absence for most of the night, and he fumbled his words around in a panic.

"I…I went to the library instead, " he finally spat out. "I'm so far behind in lessons that I took the invisibility cloak and stayed trying to get caught up." He shoved a bite of toast in his mouth as a reason to stop talking.

Silence fell over them as they ate breakfast without speaking. Harry poked his food half-heartedly, fighting the urge to close his eyes. He was exhausted and part of him entertained the idea of returning to the dormitory and skipping the day's classes. Would Dumbledore know he had missed them? Would he ask why at the meeting later that evening?

"Harry, what happened to your face?"

Hermione's question cut through his thoughts. Apparently finished with her paper, she had laid it aside and was now staring at Harry in concern.

Harry brought a hand up to his cheek where he had been struck last night. He hadn't been aware that the slap had left a mark, but as his fingers brushed the skin a sharp pain radiated down to the bone. Massaging it gently, he made an extra effort in chewing his food in order to buy himself some time to fabricate another alibi.

Shrugging his shoulders, he rolled his eyes as if to say it was something stupid before swallowing. "I accidentally knocked a book off the shelf."

Ron let out a snort of laughter, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione's concerned expression wrinkle into suspicion. Besides being a bit laughable, he couldn't see a problem with his story. Perhaps he was misinterpreting her stare, but he couldn't chance her growing skeptical. Looking up at her, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What, " he asked, his tone coming out more cross than he had intended.

Hermione continued to examine him before answering. "I just… well, you seem, " she began, obviously trying to find the right words that wouldn't set Harry off. Her brown eyes left Harry's to sweep his torso for half a second before returning.

Instinctively, Harry crossed his arms over his burns as if her eyes could see through his robes to the bandages underneath. He felt his face flush and he looked down at his plate, a wave of involuntary panic rushing over him. Hermione was clever. If she even suspected something was wrong-

"Careful, Harry, " came a soft voice inside his mind. " The Mudblood knows something."

Mumbling something incoherent, he grabbed his bag and rose from his seat. To aware of how guilty he already looked, Harry forced himself to walk from the Great Hall instead of sprinting. He mounted the stairs and turned into the first bathroom as his anxiety fought to control him.

The edge of the porcelain sink was cold beneath his sweaty palms. Reaching up to the tap, he turned on the cold water and let it wash over his hands. He took several deep breaths to control his racing heart; the sound of the rushing faucet calming his nerves as he stood, head bowed to the mirror ahead. Hermione only suspected something was wrong, he assured himself. As long as she had no proof he could continue denying anything she assumed was going on.

Letting out a slow steadying breath, Harry looked up into the mirror as a clap of thunder rattled the window panes. Staring back was a figure he did not recognize. Dark shadows lined underneath his eyes, making them seem almost hollow. A bright purple bruise highlighted his right cheekbone which jutted out over his thin face. A surge of grief tore through him as his mind immediately went to the first pictures he'd seen of Sirius in the Daily Prophet after he had escaped Azkaban. Closing his eyes, he turned away, unable to stomach the thought.

The door behind him opened and he quickly returned to washing his hands. The soft click of the lock sliding into place caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder. Hermione was standing at the entrance, a look of determination on her face. She took several slow steps towards him, glancing under the stalls to assure they were alone before speaking.

"Harry, I know something is wrong, " she said cautiously.

Harry pulled together a bewildered look. "I don't know what you're on about, " he reassured her but as she took another advancing step, Harry instinctively retreated until his back collided with the sink basin.

Stopping at arm's length, her expression changed to worry as she struggled to find the words to convince him. "Harry, I know you didn't have a meeting with Dumbledore that day at Hogsmeade, " she began, her voice barely audible over the rain now battering the glass. "And I saw your b..bloody shirt when we came into the dorm and the way you were obviously in pain." She looked away, her cheeks flushing.

Harry struggled to keep the fear from rising to his face. "Hermione, " he began but his words faltered. How could he possibly explain this? "They're old wounds that won't heal. That's all. I left Hogsmeade because they were bleeding."

"Harry Potter, don't lie to me, " she snapped, turning back to face him, her eyes misty with tears but nonetheless deterred. She reached out a hand and grabbed the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up.

Harry pushed her hand away and leaned back against the sink as anger swept over him. "I don't know what to tell you, " he said, willing his voice to remain calm.

"How about the truth, " she pleaded. "Where were you last night? And don't say the library because I was there and…"

"Just drop it, " Harry interrupted forcefully. Pushing away from the sink, he brought himself to full height and looked down at her, amusement not his own filling his head. " Please," he added, and he was surprised at how broken he sounded.

"Come now, Harry. Tell her, " the voice mused. "Maybe you could bring her with you next time."

Harry shook his head, fear boiling over as the next words spilled from his mouth. "I just need you to trust me, please."

Hermione's frown deepened. She opened her mouth, the intent to argue written all over her face but she stopped suddenly. Realization caused her shoulders to drop, and pressing her lips together, she nodded in agreement. "Okay, Harry, " she said gently; reaching a hand up, she smoothed away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

Without thinking, Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face deep into the top of her bushy hair. He clenched his eyes tight as she returned the hug, unwilling to let the tears escape. Anger and fear melted away, replaced instead with a warming peace as he held her tight. Even more to his surprise, Harry found that for the first time in a while his mind was completely clear.

Hermione took a step back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "We'll be late if we don't go."

The remainder of the day passed without incident. Harry drug himself from one class to the next, barely managing to stay awake during the majority of his lessons. Hermione had been kind enough to offer encouragement by either elbowing or kicking him under the table when he began to doze off. The only Professor to notice was McGonagall who quickly scolded him before continuing her lecture on transforming their animals.

At six o'clock Harry begrudgingly climbed the staircase to the Headmaster's office. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep but he knew that skipping this lesson was not an option. Voldemort's excitement had been building within him all afternoon despite his own feelings of panic. What could Voldemort's past hold that was so important to everyone? Rapping his knuckles against the door, Harry paused for half a second before letting himself in.

Professor Dumbledore was not sitting behind his desk as he normally was. Glancing around, Harry saw his slender figure in front of an open window, apparently lost completely in thought. The old man's hands were clasped behind his back, his good hand clutching the injured one above the blackened skin. He did not turn to address Harry, instead, he continued to stare into the torrent of falling rain.

Harry watched him for a minute, the blustering wind billowing his long robes behind him, before he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Dumbledore turned, a look of surprise stretching his face.

"Ah, Harry, " he said while closing the window against the oncoming gale. "Please forgive me. My old ears are not what they use to be."

Harry smiled in response but remained quiet. He followed the Headmaster to their normal seats, sinking slowly into the cushioned wingback. It wasn't until then that he noticed the absence of the pensive on the parchment-covered desktop. He looked up at Professor Dumbledore, confusion clear on his face.

" Professor, I thought we would be looking at memories tonight."

"Yes, of course, " Dumbledore said, leaning back into his chair. His blue eyes fixed on Harry as an indiscernible expression darkened his face. Harry tried to ignore the suspicion now tickling his brain as the Headmaster continued. "We will get to that. First, however, I must reiterate how proud I am of you, Harry. The bravery you have exhibited these long few months is no small feat. Wizards much older and wiser than yourself have given in to Voldemort's desires with much less coercion."

"I…" Harry's words caught in his throat as he thought of his actions last night and the betrayal he would soon be committing. If Dumbledore only knew the truth. He dropped his gaze to the fraying hem of his robes, a wave of guilt drowning his thoughts.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. Looking up he saw the older man lean forward now to set his elbows on the desk, flesh-covered fingers steepling with their decayed counterparts. A sudden sense of anticipation awaited those next words as Dumbledore's expression changed clearly to that of dread. "Your most courageous act was returning to him last night."

A fierce division of emotions swept through Harry. Fear, confusion, rage, all collided at once as he tried to separate his own thoughts from Voldemort's. Strengthening in his chair, he poised himself to run. But where would he go? What was Dumbledore playing at?

"I…I don't know what you mean, " he denied feebly.

Professor Dumbledore gave a weary smile as he studied Harry over his half-moon glasses.

"I told you a few weeks ago that I needed you to persevere until I could find a way to break the connection that allows Voldemort to control your thoughts."

Fury like nothing he had ever felt before sparked inside him and his scar gave a painful throb. His heart beat violently against his breast bone, fighting to free itself. It was if it knew the body it resided in was about to sustain a tremendous amount of agony and it wanted no part.

"You insolent little brat, " Voldemort raged inside him. "When I get my hands on you, you will regret lying to me. I am going to make you watch as I tear the Werewolf limb from limb."

"Stop, " Harry pleaded. Dropping his head to his hands, he clutched his hair, willing the voices to stop. A hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, but Harry tried to shrug it away. "You've killed him, " he whispered but couldn't finish with an explanation.

"Harry, " Dumbledore continued softly. "I could not find a way to break the connection you share with Voldemort, however, I did take away the remainder of the leverage he held against you."

Harry raised his head to find that it wasn't the Headmaster's hand on his shoulder. Sitting in the chair next to him, an encouraging smile on his worn face, was Remus Lupin. His own relief overtook Voldemort's rage and Harry was able to think clearly for the first time. He turned a hopeful gaze back to Professor Dumbledore.

" What about the rest, " he asked quickly.

"The remainder of the Order has been given the highest forms of protections, " Dumbledore assured him, but he did not smile. The somber look continued to crease his face and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. "You have no reason to return. However, I am afraid there is still one obstacle you must overcome."

Harry's stomach dropped. He felt Remus's grip tighten on his shoulder as he fell back into his seat. As if on cue, the world around him began to fade away. The edges of his vision dimmed and panic began to set in. He had one last glimpse of Dumbledore quickly rounding his desk and the last words he heard before everything was gone.

"It's not real, Harry!"

Groggily, Harry forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking several times to push the fog from his brain. He was painfully aware of the iron cuffs digging into his raw wrists as they supported his limp weight. Dropping his head back, he let his glasses slide back to the bridge of his nose before examining the room around him. Iron sconces held half-melted candles that were casting a dull flickering amber light around the small room. The wet stone walls were all too familiar and he felt his heart sink. He was hanging in the center of the cellar at Malfoy Manor.

"Well Potter, I thought we were making progress." Voldemort stepped into view from beside the door, his face holding nothing but disappointment. "No matter. We can start fresh."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found his voice nearly broken. "I…don't…understand" he croaked through his raw throat. It was as if he hadn't used his voice in weeks.

Voldemort let out a cool laugh as he stepped closer to where Harry was suspended. "Oh, Harry. Surely you did not believe all of that was real, did you," he mused playfully.

"You're lying," Harry said hoarsely but he couldn't deny the panic now coursing through him.

Voldemort reached a hand up to grasp Harry's chin with his long fingers. "I do not lie, boy."

He clenched his eyes shut and tried to jerk his head away, refusing to believe the man. How could the last month have been a fabrication? Everything he had gone through, all the people he had talked too; surely Voldemort was not powerful enough to manipulate his mind to that extent.

"This isn't real, " he seethed through clenched teeth.

"Open your eyes and tell me that again, Potter."

Harry shook his head shortly, but something sharp was now resting against his shoulder, the edge prodding his flesh as it jabbed through his shirt. He tried to cringe away, but Voldemort's grip on his chin tightened.

"I said open your eyes."

Harry pried his eyes open and stared determinedly into his assaulter's face. Voldemort was pressing a dagger against Harry's right collar bone, a look of hunger in his gleaming red eyes.

"Tell me again this is not real, " he repeated with a cruel sneer.

"This isn't-" but Harry's words were cut short as the knife dug into his skin. Layer after layer of flesh gave way as the sharp tip split them apart like paper, stopping only when it reached the solid bone. Harry bit back a cry despite the burning fire that accompanied each penetrated membrane. He could feel the warm blood seeping down his chest as it was pushed out with each rapid beat of his heart.

"Surely we can do better than that, " Voldemort whispered as he bared down on the hilt jutting from Harry's shoulder.

The edge of the knife bore into Harry's bone and he gritted his teeth against the rising pain. A growl rumbled in his chest, but he refused to let it manifest further. This only seemed to drive Voldemort's desires higher. A loud crack echoed off the stone walls, but it went unnoticed as a scream tore from Harry's lungs. The remainder of the knife sank past the now shattered bone, burying itself to the hilt. Despite his best efforts, Harry could not escape the pain. He flung his head back only to find Voldemort's grasp holding him in place. He trashed in vain against the man's unwavering clutch.

"That's it, Harry. Scream for me, " he said through a sickening smile.

Every movement resulted in a fresh wave of anguish as the bone popped against the foreign object dividing it. Harry prayed for the shock to come. He prayed that his limb would go numb as he curled his left fingers around the chain supporting him, trying to relieve pressure from his mangled arm. His filth covered trainers scraped at the dusty cobblestones, but he was too high to stand.

"Tell me again, " Voldemort repeated once Harry's screams had faded to heavy gasps.

"Y...you're a b…b…bastard," Harry stuttered defiantly.

A hard force connected with his jaw, spinning his head to the side. He lost his grip on the chain and the weight returned to his broken shoulder with a sudden jolt. Stomach turning, he gaged as the sour taste of dinner threatened to spill from his open mouth. Voldemort however, gave him no time to recover. He had moved to stand behind the boy now. Slipping his long, blood-covered fingers along Harry's scalp, he pulled the hair taut.

A voice echoed through his mind, calling softly as if it were miles away. "It's not real, Harry."

Wait, if this was real, why was he tasting the beef stew he had had for dinner at the castle?

"You can fight this, " the voice called more clearly and this time Harry recognized it as Professor Dumbledore.

"Is it real, Potter, " Voldemort asked softly in Harry's ear. He pulled against the hair until Harry's head was resting against his chest. The other hand reached around until it was holding the knife again.

Harry clamped his teeth on the string of swears streaming from his lips. "Stop, " he sputtered as he felt the blade being moved back and forth.

"Do you think, " Voldemort continued angrily, his lips nearly pressed against Harry's ear now. He thrust the knife back to the hilt, causing Harry to cry out wildly. "I am not capable of breaking you mentally." The last word was punctuated with another push of the handle.

"You can fight him, Harry."

Taking a shaking breath, Harry clenched his eyes close and thought back to the last month at Hogwarts. He thought about the time he had spent with Hermione and Ron in the Hospital Wing, the comfort Remus had given him during his panic attack, and the unwavering friendship Hermione had exhibited in the bathroom that very afternoon. Those had been the only times Harry had been able to think clearly.

"This isn't real, " Harry said firmly and this time he knew it was true.

The room around him faded slightly and he was briefly able to see Dumbledore and a pale Remus kneeling over him. However, the dungeon overtook the image again and Voldemort was standing before him once more.

"It does not matter whether this is real or not, Potter, " he exploded. "I can keep you here and shred your mind piece by piece. I can make you feel pain that you have never dreamed of."

"No, " Harry blurted out sternly and the room dimmed again. He let that warm feeling of comfort Hermione had given him earlier consume him. He had friends that loved him and that was all he needed to take control of his own mind.

The cellar walls dissolved around him until he was staring up at the high rafters of the Headmaster's office. Sitting up in a panic, he grabbed at his right shoulder, only to find it completely intact. It had felt so real, but there was no wound or pain as he felt along the protruding bone. Looking around wildly, he could see Professor Dumbledore and Remus kneeling at his side, both staring at him apprehensively.

"How do you feel, Harry," Dumbledore asked.

He had to admit despite the throbbing of the burns on his chest and back he felt better. "I…I think I'm okay," he said hesitantly as if admitting it would suddenly bring him back to the cellar.

Grabbing underneath his arms, the two adults helped Harry back into the chair. Dumbledore returned to his seat as well, and for a long minute, they sat in silence. Harry continued to stare at the rug beneath his feet, afraid to believe that it was truly over. Yet, his mind remained quiet.

"Professor, how do I know that he's really gone," he inquired, finally voicing his fears.

Professor Dumbledore remained silent, and Harry was forced to look up into those blue eyes studying him. The Headmaster swept his gaze across the boy's face before answering.

" I do not always have the correct answers, Harry. That is too evident by the mess we found ourselves in this year, but, " he paused and let out a small sigh. "I believe that Voldemort has become leary of this connection. After the way you took control of your own thoughts, I would dare to say he is afraid that the roles might be reversed."

"He's afraid Harry would be able to control his thoughts?" asked Remus as he perched himself on the edge of the remaining chair.

Dumbledore raised his wispy brows. "Harry has demonstrated an extraordinary talent for spying on the Dark Lord's thoughts without even trying. Now that he knows what he is capable of, Voldemort may believe he can do much more."

Harry's forehead creased in skepticism. He allowed his mind to wander, searching for something inside that would indicate Voldemort's presence. Finding only silence, he turned his attention back to the two men talking.

"What do we do now, " he asked abruptly.

"First I think it wise to have Madam Pomfrey examine those burns, but before we do anything I would like to relieve some of your guilt. The sword you took from my office last night was a fake."

A small glimmer of relief brightened inside him only to be consumed moments later by a fresh wave of self-loathing as images of last night filled his mind. He remembered the screams of the man he tortured; the unnatural way his body contorted as he tried in vain to escape the pain. He remembered the laughter of the Death Eaters that surrounded him; their cries of approval. Most of all however, he remembered the flash of green light and the sickening thud of dead weight against hard wood.

"I…" he began but suddenly his mouth was dry. He struggled to find the words to describe what he'd witnessed; no, what he had done, but they evaded him. Finally, he spit out the only sentence his numb brain could produce. "Fudge is dead."

Shock pulled the old man's eyes wide, and Lupin's head spun in Harry's direction. They gaped at him, apparently too confused for words.

"He was there, last night, I…I." No matter how hard Harry fought, the words would not come. He tipped his head back until he was staring at the ceiling and brought his shaking hands up to cover his face. Admitting what he'd done to Fudge, how he'd stood over him while he screamed for mercy; the thought alone was enough to cripple him.

"Harry, this is not your fault," said Professor Dumbledore, regaining his composure. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry's head snapped forward, a sudden wave of anger surging through him. " Don't say that to me," he snapped viciously. Voldemort had used that phrase countless times and hearing it now, in what he believed was safety, set his skin on fire.

Professor Dumbledore straightened in his chair. "I'm sorry, Harry. I put you in a situation where you had to make impossible decisions. You have proven time and again your trust and loyalty for me, and I have given you little in return. Once your injuries have been treated and you have had time to rest, I will answer any questions you have to the best of my knowledge."

Staring into those blue eyes, Harry felt his rage calm. He nodded slowly, and a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. Remus gripped his arm comfortingly and gave him a soft smile. He was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was.