Chapter 14

Harry watched the forest with narrowed eyes. He heard some rustling in the distance but knew well enough that nothing in here would dare to approach him. Barefoot, he walked along the cylindrical stone platform that disturbed the otherwise completely natural surroundings. His eyes carefully scanned the runes placed at meticulously measured intervals. They seemed to be in order.

The altar, however, was not coming along as nicely as he would have liked.

"Wormtail," Harry said evenly, smirking when he noticed the frightened flinch from his subordinate.

"Y-yes, my Lord?" Wormtail replied, grovelling immediately. He clenched the ritual dagger firmly in a silver fist but the edge was pointed towards himself rather than towards Harry. Good. The rat knew his place.

"Would you explain to me what the problem is?" Harry hissed, his tone almost hypnotic. "Was my trust in you misplaced?"

"Never, my Lord," Wormtail was quick to respond. "I know what I need to do. I just think that –" he trailed off as if scared of what he was going to say next.

"Continue, old friend," Harry purred.

"I don't have all the resources," Wormtail said apologetically, his nose touching the stone platform beneath him as he bowed. "This is a very dark ritual, my Lord."

"Crucio," Harry said almost lazily, watching his subordinate writhe on the floor in glorious pain. After a few seconds, he reluctantly lifted his wand. "I know everything there is to know about this process, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "You would do well not to speak to me as if I were a fool."

"A thousand apologies, my Lord," Wormtail cried. Harry sneered. What a pathetic little man he was. But he was loyal. And he was to be trusted. As much as he lacked spirit and skills, he did have a sharp mind. Something Harry needed right now.

"When seeking great power, the risks and costs are equally pronounced," Harry said. He reached out and stroked Wormtail's head almost lovingly. Wormtail flinched at the touch but didn't pull away. "But I know that you all will bear those risks with me when the time comes."

"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail said eagerly. "We would do anything for you."

"I know," Harry whispered. "As for the required resources you're missing, can't you make do with what you have?" Harry licked his lips, feeling oddly ecstatic.

"I would use it all for you," Wormtail said obediently. "You know I would. But I don't have enough."

"Very well," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll need to put the plan into motion a bit sooner than I had intended but… it might work out for the better this way."

"Thank you, my Lord, for your benevolence and understanding," Wormtail said, his face still touching the stones.

Harry stopped smiling. "I am not a patient man, Wormtail," he said. "You would do well to remember that."

Wormtail sobbed loudly as he scurried backwards. His fear was obvious and Harry revelled in it. Soon. When everything was done, the world would never again think that anyone, not even Dumbledore, could defeat him.


"Harry, wake up!"

Someone slapped Harry in the face. Hard. Startled, he opened his eyes to meet Ron's frightened stare. His hands were on Harry's shoulders and he kept glancing at Harry's forehead.

"Ron," Harry said, his voice hoarse. Had he screamed? His entire body was in pain and his right hand twitched occasionally. "What happened?"

"You were thrashing in your bed and moaning," Ron said, panic still colouring his voice. "When I came closer you suddenly started screaming – oh, mate, you look terrible."

Ron's eyes fluttered to Harry's forehead again. Frowning, Harry touched his scar and looked at his fingertips only to find them coated in blood.

Merlin, no, not again.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't mean to wake you."

At that moment, the door to the dorm opened. Harry hadn't even noticed that Neville wasn't in the room anymore but there he was, a frantic McGonagall right behind him. A flick of her wand turned on the lights, revealing the frightened faces of Harry's dorm mates. McGonagall's normally tidy hair was let down in a long braid. She was wearing a long nightgown and crimson slippers.

"Professor," Harry said, his voice still not fully cooperating.

McGonagall threw one look at Harry's bloody scar before making a decision. "Can you stand, Mr Potter?" she asked.

"I think so," Harry said. He swung his legs from his bed and tested them out gingerly. When his legs, despite being wobbly, didn't buckle, McGonagall nodded sharply.

"Come with me," she said. "The rest of you back to sleep. And don't speak a word of this to anyone, is that clear?"

Harry dully registered the chorus of 'Yes, Professor McGonagall' and stepped up to his head of house. One last warning glance later, they both exited the room and descended down the stairs. Harry felt nauseous and pressed his hand against his mouth to keep from expelling his dinner. McGonagall was talking to him, he thought, but he didn't exactly register her words. It was not until she summoned a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace that Harry's attention returned. McGonagall pulled him into the large hearth, ducking slightly so she would fit and said, "Professor Dumbledore's office." Before Harry could protest, he was whisked away in green fire.

The office they stumbled into was empty. Harry's wobbly legs were momentarily too confused in the aftermath of the floo travel and forgot how to carry him properly. The result was that he nearly fell flat on his face. McGonagall still held his arm, though, and kept him half-upright.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, regaining his footing. "I don't floo travel well."

"So I see, Mr Potter," McGonagall said, a worried tone in her voice. "Go ahead and sit down while I fetch the headmaster."

Why do I have to see that old coot? He doesn't care.

But he did sit down in one of the plush chairs. McGonagall tapped one of Dumbledore's trinkets with her wand and turned it into a towel before giving it to Harry. Harry smiled his thanks before accepting it and pressing it against his scar. The towel trinket soon became stained with blood.

Harry didn't hear anything coming from the room McGonagall walked into.

Probably cast a silencing charm so she can freely talk about me.

But he didn't have to sit there for too long. After a few minutes of glancing around the office and trying his best not to wake up the sleeping phoenix dozing on his perch, the door to what had to be Dumbledore's chambers opened to reveal his head of house and the headmaster. The man was wearing a ridiculous sleeping cap that looked like a cartoonish version of a dragon trying to eat his head. It even had tiny little wings.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted. "Good to see you even though the circumstances are rather dire."

Good to see me, he says while not even looking at me.

Harry wondered why Dumbledore refused to meet his gaze. For a moment, he thought the old man might feel ashamed about what he had had to do but Harry quickly killed that thought. No, he was feeling pity, wasn't he? Pity for the boy-who-lived. The boy who couldn't stand up to a family of muggles.

Or he's upset that I'm responsible for Voldemort's return.

When Dumbledore coughed uncomfortably, Harry thought he had probably stayed silent for a bit too long. He ignored Dumbledore's avoidance for now and bowed his head.

"Good evening, Professor," he said. "Sorry to wake you up like this."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Harry!" Dumbledore said jovially. "I am merely concerned for your well-being."

He doesn't sound any different from usual. A bit tired, perhaps.

Harry groaned. "I think it was another vision," he said. "Snape told you about my first one, didn't he?" Harry tried to make eye contact with Dumbledore again, an impulse that simply came to him naturally, only to see Dumbledore shift his gaze away. It was beyond frustrating.

"He did," Dumbledore said kindly, ignoring the missing moniker. "I had hoped that was a one-time event caused by Voldemort's carelessness but it seems to be far graver than that." Harry stopped dabbing at his scar and looked at the stained towel. "Indeed, these visions seem to have an adverse effect on you that stretches far beyond the mental." Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully as Harry fidgeted on his chair. He glanced at McGonagall who was kind enough to look him right in the eyes. Her eyes shone with encouragement and it bolstered Harry somewhat.

"I will do everything in my power to stop these visions from happening, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"W-Wait," Harry protested, looking into Dumbledore's slightly averted eyes. "What if I can get valuable information this way? He's obviously planning something. Something big!"

Dumbledore held out his hand to stop Harry from speaking. "We can't be sure that these visions of yours actually ring true," he said. "Severus hasn't received word of any nefarious plot at the moment and I like to think that he's on top of things. Please keep in mind that Voldemort may be very aware of this connection you share and may be trying to exploit it to get to you."

Harry blanched.

Get to me? In what way?

"But just to be on the safe side, I would very much like to hear what you remember from the dream," Dumbledore continued. "Though, if you'll forgive me, I would like to call Severus here before I do so. After all, it would be a bit silly for you to tell the same story twice and I would very much like his thoughts on the matter."

Harry shrugged. "I'm okay with that," he said easily.

He couldn't help but notice McGonagall frown and wondered about that. Was it that strange that he had no problem with Snape coming here right now? Maybe she didn't think it was like Harry to allow the Potions Master to see him in such a vulnerable state.

But he has seen this before and much worse.

He smiled at McGonagall which seemed to put her at ease again. Meanwhile, Dumbledore walked over to his fireplace and tossed in a handful of floo powder. "Severus Snape's quarters," he said calmly. The floo flared and Dumbledore stuck his head through. It was a very odd sight to see and Harry would've chuckled if he didn't still feel so bad about this entire situation.

He couldn't hear exactly what it was that Dumbledore said but the conversation was a very short one. After not even a minute had gone by, he withdrew his head and stepped aside to make way for the Potions Master. He, in stark contrast to Dumbledore, did not look as if he just got out of bed. He was still wearing his usual black attire minus the teaching robes, his gaze sharp and alert as ever. His eyes found Harry's immediately and he clicked his tongue in dismay when he saw the blood-stained towel.

"This is ridiculous," Snape mumbled. "Albus, we can't allow this to continue."

"Of course not, Severus," Albus said tiredly. "But we will discuss that later. For now, I would like you to listen to Harry's vision with us."

Snape nodded curtly, crossed his arms and stood there, in the middle of the office, staring at Harry with an unnamed emotion in his eyes. Dumbledore and McGonagall took a seat.

"Right," Harry said, feeling decidedly put on the spot. "Not that much happened, really. Voldemort was still in the forest –" McGonagall and Snape both flinched at Harry's indiscriminate use of the name. "But this time there was a large, stone platform. I'm not sure if he was in the same spot as before. It all looked like forest to me."

Snape narrowed his eyes when he saw Harry's trembling right hand which he hid in his sleeve immediately. "Did you see the event through his eyes again?" Snape asked gruffly.

Harry nodded. "His eyes, his ears, his mind," he said. "I didn't feel like myself at all. I felt like him. I – he was very displeased about something."

"What was he displeased about?" Dumbledore prompted gently.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied. "Something to do with the ritual. Wormtail hadn't done what he was supposed to. He had to be punished for it."

Snape muttered expletives under his breath as he looked at Harry searchingly.

What is his problem?

Harry frowned but continued. "Wormtail said he needed something to be able to continue. I don't know what. But to continue with the preparations, Voldemort feels that he needs to put a plan in action he hadn't wanted to begin just yet."

"Was there anything else?" Snape asked urgently. "Anything at all?"

Harry thought that over for a moment. "One small thing," he said. "Voldemort said that this ritual came with certain risks and costs and that the Death Eaters would be paying for those."

"Marvellous," Snape muttered sardonically.

"Severus," Dumbledore said. "Are you sure that you don't know what this is about?"

"The Dark Lord hasn't said anything about a ritual," Snape told him. "And if he had, I would have informed you immediately."

"So you think this is a lie?" McGonagall chimed in. "A false vision?"

"It's too soon to say," Snape replied again. "But it's clear to me that the punishment Mr Potter spoke of has had an effect on him as well."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Your hand," Snape growled. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You are clearly experiencing the aftereffects of the cruciatus curse, albeit it very mildly. It's a precedence that's rather… unnerving."

Well, that's just fantastic. Now he'll be able to torture me from a distance.

"What are you planning on doing about this, Albus?" McGonagall asked, sounding just a bit panicked. "Would dreamless sleep help?"

"No," Snape replied in Dumbledore's stead. "Not only is dreamless sleep highly addictive, I very much doubt that it would protect Mr Potter's mind against an attack from the Dark Lord. Instead of not experiencing the vision, I imagine he would simply not be able to wake up from it anymore. And if the Dark Lord has not yet figured out this connection, he would after Mr Potter stayed in his mind for an entire night."

"Then what?" McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in a way that irked Harry before he spoke. "Occlumency," the headmaster said.

Snape nodded. "That would most likely work," he said. "Supposing Mr Potter actually has the discipline to learn that particular art. When will you begin teaching him?"

"Me, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, mischief in his voice. "I think you would be far better suited for it."

Snape scoffed. "I think not," he said harshly. "What makes you believe that that's a good idea? Your old age must finally be getting to you."

It's always fun getting passed around like a hot potato.

McGonagall cleared her throat importantly. "Gentlemen," she chided. "You are forgetting yourselves."

"I cannot do it, Severus," Dumbledore said kindly. "You know why. And I truly believe that you and Harry will be far more compatible."

Harry snorted, earning himself a glare from the Potions Master. Dumbledore still didn't look at him but smiled. "I implore you both to try it," he said. "This matter is a serious one but I can't risk Voldemort to be able to view my own thoughts and secrets. Otherwise, Harry, I would certainly teach you myself."

Harry wasn't sure if he would even prefer that at this point.

"I can sense that my opinion holds no importance here," Snape growled. "But I would still like to point out that doing this could endanger my position with the Dark Lord. Find someone else."

"There is no one else," Dumbledore said easily. "As you well know."

Snape glanced at Harry, his glare murderous before huffing and striding over to the fireplace once more. "Fine," he spat. "I can see when a battle is lost." He grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the hearth and growled, "My quarters," in a rather annoyed tone of voice. And then he was gone.

"Do try not to antagonise Severus too much, Harry," Dumbledore then said. "And I'm sure he will attempt to do the same."

Harry somehow doubted it but he still nodded his compliance.

McGonagall shared one last glance with Dumbledore before sighing and putting her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let's go, Mr Potter," she said. "I'd best take you to the infirmary."

"No," Harry said quickly. "I'm feeling a lot better now. Can't I just go back to the tower?"

McGonagall gave him a searching look before caving. "Very well," she said. "But if you don't feel well enough to attend classes in the morning, you're going to the infirmary."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. "And good night, Professor Dumbledore."

One last attempt to make eye contact…

"Good night Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully, his eyes on the sleeping form of his phoenix.

Fine. Be that way. It's not like I'm not used to it.

True to her word, McGonagall escorted Harry back to his dorm. Everyone but Ron was already asleep and after their head of house left, Ron sat down on Harry's bed with him.

"Bloody hell, mate," he whispered. "Are you alright? I thought your head had split open or something."

"Nothing that dramatic," Harry whispered back. "But… it's still pretty bad. It's Voldemort."

Ron shivered. "I sort of guessed as much already," he said. "What did he do?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said. "But he kind of got into my head. Literally. And also, not literally. It's hard to explain."

Ron shuddered again. "That sounds iffy," he said. "But Dumbledore can fix it, can't he?"

Harry snorted. "Maybe," he said. "We'll see soon if his… methods are effective."

Ron gave him an odd look. "Okaaaay," he said slowly, not sounding convinced in the slightest.

"Look, I'm pretty tired, Ron," Harry then said, having had enough of the conversation. "Let's get some sleep. We have Potions tomorrow and I don't want to blow up my cauldron."

"Ugh, good point," Ron said. "Alright then. Good night."

"Night," Harry echoed. He laid his head down on his already cleaned pillow and quickly fell asleep. Voldemort didn't visit him again that night but his dreams were far from peaceful. That same forest kept popping up in his mind. Those red eyes reflecting back at him when he stared into a river. A crooked smile and a tortured servant.


Before Harry even had a chance that following day, Ron had already told Hermione everything that happened to Harry that night, against McGonagall's orders. Naturally, the bushy brunette immediately bothered Harry for information during breakfast.

"What are they going to do about it?" she hissed over breakfast. "This really sounds very dangerous, Harry. Who knows what he can do with your mind while he's in there."

"They mentioned Occlumency," Harry told her softly. "Whatever that is."

Hermione clearly did know.

"What?" she screeched. When Harry motioned for her to lower her voice again, she did. "What?" she repeated in a hiss. "Occlumency? That's fantastic. Oh, Harry, what I wouldn't give to learn that. It sounds like such a useful skill. Oh, and of course it would help you with this problem. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself! I might know of some books that can help you. Or do you think Professor Snape will give you some of his own? Oh, if he does, please let me borrow them. I promise I'll be careful. Ooh, do you think I could join you? I could at least help you practice. When do you –"

"Hermione!" Harry finally interrupted. "You're rambling."

Hermione had the decency to look abashed. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just so excited for you."

"That makes one of us," Harry grumbled, spearing one of his hard-boiled eggs.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Hermione said soothingly. "Just do your best and I'm sure Professor Snape will do the same."

Harry snorted, wondering if Hermione sounded like Dumbledore often. "I can't believe that after four years, you still have faith in him," he said before glancing at the high table. Snape was calmly eating his breakfast, staring at the Slytherin table. Harry looked over as well to see Malfoy picking at his food absentmindedly. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be trying to nudge him into a conversation but to no avail. Harry frowned, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the blonde. He was acting suspicious, really.

"Harry," Hermione urged, sounding as if she had already called on him.

"Yes?" Harry asked absentmindedly.

"It'll be alright," she said, cupping his hand with her own.

And Harry considered that. It just might be. After all, Snape seemed to have kept his promise about not telling anyone about Harry's home-life. Not even McGonagall seemed to be aware of it. Reluctantly, he had to admit that there was honour in the man. A little bit, at least. Unexpectedly, Harry started thinking back to Snape's time at the Dursleys. The way he had made Harry eat those pancakes, the exploding pillow and their friendly competition on the PlayStation had been… well… not what Harry would have expected of Snape. There was more to the man than he had originally thought.

"Who're you thinking about?" Ron asked teasingly. Harry blinked when he saw the smirk on his best friend's face.

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Oh, don't even try to hide it," Ron chuckled. "You were smiling. Who is she?"

Ugh! Yuck! No!

"I wasn't thinking about a girl!" Harry exclaimed. "Yeesh. Can't a bloke have some nice memories to think back to?"

Ron held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Fine, fine," he said but his grin was still there. "Have it your way, boy wonder. Now hurry up. We don't want to be late for potions."

"You're the one who won't stop eating," Hermione pointed out to Ron. Her cutlery was already neatly stacked on her plate.

"These bangers are just so good!" Ron defended himself.

Harry chuckled. "You say that every morning," he pointed out. Hermione snorted in response.


As fifth-year Gryffindors, they all knew not to be late to Snape's potions class. Especially not the first one of the year. So they all stood waiting in front of the door to the classroom, neatly lined up. The Slytherins stood on the opposite end, glowering at the Gryffindors and throwing out some scathing remarks about bloodlines and parenthood and the like.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Crabbe said snidely. "Were you too scared to take the train? Did you need the headmaster to babysit you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the thick-headed Slytherin. "We can't all have a father death eater that makes sure we aren't targeted," he quipped.

"At least I have a father," Crabbe snarled angrily. He took a step forward and raised his fist as if ready to sock Harry but Malfoy glared at him, making him back down.

"Stop provoking your betters, Scarhead," Malfoy drawled lazily. "Sooner or later you'll come to regret it."

"Oh, and I suppose that you're his better, are you?" Ron asked. "Well, think again, Malfoy."

"Stay out of this, Weasel," Malfoy said, eyeing Ron up and down. "I don't think your robes could survive a scuffle."

Hermione hushed them just in time to see Snape turn a corner, robes billowing behind him as always. He stared down his nose at the students waiting for him and seemed to be scrutinising Harry and Crabbe in particular.

How does he always know?

"If you are quite done getting reacquainted with one another, get inside," Snape barked.

No one waited. Right after Snape flicked his wand to open the door, there was a mad scramble when everyone tried their best to hurry inside as quickly as possible. Except for Malfoy. He calmly stood by until everyone was inside and then properly entered, taking a seat next to Zabini. Harry found himself seated next to Ron and waited while Snape got settled. He watched the dour man as he wrote down the instructions on the board.

Before, he had wondered if they would adopt the same antagonistic relationship they had before… well… everything. But now he realised that, for him at least, that would be difficult to accomplish. There was no way that he could ignore the help Snape had extended towards him. Not only had he taken Harry away from the Dursleys when he was grievously injured but when Dumbledore wanted to send him back, he had been very angry on his behalf.

But the biggest thing, for Harry, was that he had decided to come with Harry when Dumbledore hadn't relented. Sure, the man was still snarky, harsh and snide but he actually went the extra mile for his students. He doubted even McGonagall would have taken such measures. And even if she had, she would never have played a PlayStation game with him.

"Instructions are on the board. Begin."

Snape's order brought Harry out of his reveries and he focused his attention on the board, squinting slightly to read Snape's spidery scrawl.

"And so it begins," Ron whispered dramatically. Harry smiled thinly but didn't outright laugh.

As always, he was rubbish at potions. Ron wasn't much help either. They sliced and diced to the best of their abilities but by the end, Harry's pile of arrowroot was more of a mush than a neatly sliced heap. He muttered something rude under his breath and noticed that Ron's ingredients weren't looking too much better.

That's when he felt a presence behind him and he froze instinctively. He gripped the knife in his hand a bit tighter before slowly turning his head.

"Abysmal, Potter," Snape said from behind him. "Four years of preparing ingredients and you still don't know how to properly cube them."

Harry bit his lower lip. Ron's pile was at least as bad but he wasn't about to throw his best friend under the Knight bus. "I'll start over, sir," he said instead.

"There is no more time for you to ruin an entirely new batch of expensive ingredients," Snape said. He elegantly raised his wand and vanished the mush into nothingness. "Unfortunately for the both of us, it would appear that you need some remedial potions lessons."

The Slytherins snickered but the Gryffindors were practically in shock. Harry frowned. He had never heard Snape offer anyone remedial lessons before. In fact, he very much doubted that Snape was the kind of teacher to even care about anyone's prep work.

Something's going on.

"Stay after class. I'll tell you when you're expected then."

He's not even giving me a choice in the matter, is he?

Then he walked away to go inspect the Slytherins, blatantly ignoring the fact that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't even used the correct ingredients in the first place.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron whispered. "I can't believe he didn't notice my ingredients. That git will never get over his bias, will he?"

"Shh, "Harry hissed. "He hears everything, you know?" He glanced at Snape who was busy answering one of Malfoy's questions, no doubt asked to draw attention to himself.

"I'm sure Hermione can help you out," Ron then said. "If you get better quicker, he probably can't keep you anymore."

Harry was still contemplating this strange turn of events and hummed absentmindedly in response. Ron seemed to be leaving him alone after that. After they had cleared their station, there wasn't a whole lot more to do than wait for class to be over. Harry wanted nothing more than to put his head down and sleep, seeing how he didn't get much of that after last night, but he knew that that would likely be a horrible idea. Even if Snape knew about his visions.

Ron was leaning his head on his hand, staring into the distance and Harry started rubbing at his itching hand. The carved words 'I must not tell lies' were still there, of course, but Harry hadn't given them all that much thought anymore. Corporeal punishment was nothing new to him and as far as Harry was concerned, it wasn't a big deal. The scratches were so thin that no one had even noticed them yet. And he wasn't about to point them out either. It's not as if Dumbledore would do anything about Umbridge. There had been worse defence teachers, after all, and they had all been allowed to finish their year.

"Class dismissed."

Harry had been so deep in thought that he hadn't even realised that class was over. While everyone else gathered their things, Harry remained seated, waiting for everyone else to leave. Ron glanced at him uncertainly but Hermione didn't seem to think anything was wrong. She dragged Ron with her and then they were alone.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," Snape said from behind his desk, after magically closing and locking the door. Harry left his station and sat in the offered chair. Curiously he met Snape's gaze.

"As you probably well realise, I am not about to give you remedial potions lessons," he said. "You can practice your preparation on your own time and I would advise that you do so urgently."

Harry snorted in response before his eyes widened slightly. When had he started feeling comfortable enough around Snape to give him that kind of response?

Oddly enough, Snape didn't comment on it.

"Instead, your 'remedial potions' will be a cover for Occlumency."

Of course. Slytherins and their secretive ways.

"We will be meeting twice a week to try and get this subtle art hammered into your thick skull. If you're successful, these visions you have should stop."

"Hermione thought so as well," Harry offered.

Snape glared at him for a moment before speaking again. "Who have you already told of these plans?" he asked.

"Ron and Hermione," Harry replied. "Er… was that not alright?"

"You might not fully understand the situation I find myself in but if the Dark Lord finds out about these lessons, both of us will be in a world of trouble."

Harry gulped. "Oh," he said, feeling decidedly stupid.

Snape nodded. "Indeed," he said. "Make sure that you tell no one else. And do inform your friends that they tell no one else either. I understand that you'd not mourn the loss of your Potions Master but I would very much like to stay alive."

Harry bristled a bit. "I told them because I trust them," he said. "Not because I thought it would endanger you."

Snape smirked. "I know that," he said. "Meet me in my office after dinner today."

"Er…" Harry said. "I… can't."

Snape fixed him with a pointed glare. "And why, pray tell, is that?" he asked.

"I have detention with Professor Umbridge," Harry admitted.

"Again?" Snape asked incredulously. "However did you manage that? And don't look at me like that. Of course I know about the detention you had yesterday."

Harry instinctively put his hand into his pocket. "I said something she didn't like to hear," he said.

Snape scrutinised him for a moment before speaking again. "Tomorrow it is," he then said. "But starting next week, do keep your Tuesdays and Thursdays available for Occlumency, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Good," Snape said. "Now go. Before you're late for your next class and earn yourself yet another detention."

Harry chuckled. "I'm sure Professor Sprout will understand," he said. "See you tomorrow, Professor!"

Snape nodded and Harry rushed out the door. He didn't get very far, though, without hearing the hardly hushed voices of Crabbe and Goyle. He slowed his pace and didn't round the next corner out of fear of exposing himself. Yes, eavesdropping might not be a very Gryffindor thing to do, but these two were clearly up to something.

"- making him more dangerous, it is," Crabbe said softly. "I think he could hurt someone."

"Don't say that," Goyle chided. "He'll be fine. He has himself under control."

"Does he, though?" Crabbe asked doubtfully. "You've seen what he's like when… that time comes around. He's not fully in control anymore."

"So lock him in his room or something," Goyle said. "Or better yet, an unused classroom."

"That's a bit cruel, don't you think?" Crabbe replied. "He probably wouldn't hurt another Slytherin, anyways."

"Where is – shhh, I think I hear someone."

Taking no chances, Harry silently backtracked a little and then began running very loudly as to create the illusion that he was only just arriving. Without looking at the two meatheads, he rushed past them to head to his Herbology lesson, the Slytherins' odd conversation heavy on his mind.


Thank you all very much for your reviews. Your continued support continues to motivate me to do my best.

I know this is a trying time for many of us. My country is no different but so far, not much has changed for me personally. Though I suspect that soon I might be blessed with even more time to write. I suspect it won't be long until a general lockdown is in effect here. That said, though, I'm not too worried. I merely think it will provide me with more free time.

I have been writing the final act, as I have said at the end of the previous chapter, and am pleased to announce that I wrote 20000 words or 4 chapters so far. It's not done, though, so again, I will be updating next Friday rather than Tuesday. But in my defence, my chapters are getting to be longer than they were in the Potions series.

Lastly, please do keep sending me reviews. I'm curious to know what you think is going on in Slytherin. And what you thought in general, of course.

See you on Friday!