Wednesday's Transfiguration class marked the halfway point of every school week, always bringing with it a welcomed sense of relief. This class in particular was usually dedicated to theory, which unless McGonagall was walking by his desk meant that Harry could usually get away with a certain amount of slacking off.

On his left Hermione was asking a question, and Harry took a glance at her notes. She had drawn a diagram of sorts, a flow chart...but he couldn't bring himself to think about what it might be for, what she had taken from this lesson. He couldn't think properly today. He was tired...too tired to properly think.

The start of second term had found him feeling rather lacklustre and unmotivated, and he had found it difficult to concentrate even in classes he might have normally enjoyed. Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Harry couldn't help but thinking about skipping Herbology. He could go back to the dormitory and get some sleep, but as quickly as the thought occurred to him the appeal soured. If he was going to sleep he was supposed to clear his mind, or at least try to. The prospect of doing that was less appealing than just going to his classes.

Since his return to school he'd undergone five lessons of Occlumency, and though it had been more than a day since his last lesson on Monday night Harry still felt unwell from it. It wasn't easy in any sense, Harry finding more and more that he was entirely unable to separate himself from his emotions, his anger and frustration with the world...his fear...trauma. Problem was, according to Snape that separation was the key to protecting himself.

At first it seemed like things with Snape might actually be okay. His first day back after Christmas had included the Monday double Potions, and Snape had been surprisingly tolerable. Although far from pleasant, he had managed to keep his cold stares to a minimum, and hadn't called on Harry or hovered over his cauldron even once.

However it seemed Snape couldn't quite hold his hatred back, at least not when they were alone together. The first Occlumency lesson had started out well enough, Snape explaining a few more things before they started. But the moment Harry struggled to grasp how to actually expel Snape from his mind both of their tempers flared.

Harry was already on edge, having felt for the first time the invasive attack of someone forcing their way into his mind - and it frightened him. It left him in a state of shock, completely unaware of how to defend himself, and Snape hadn't sought to help or instruct him at all. They had both yelled, and any potential for a constructive lesson vanished.

Now two nights a week, Harry had to put up with Snape invading his mind, forcing him to relieve everything he had been trying to let go of. But Snape was seeing more than Harry's painful recollections of what happened after the Third Task, but other memories too - his lonely childhood in Privet Drive, interspersed with glimpses of normal and happy moments, none of which Harry wanted shared.

Making matters worse Snape knew he had been dreaming about that corridor, the one Harry now realised led to the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. The realisation of the corridor's location had piqued Harry's curiosity, and though he was supposed to be learning how to prevent that dream he had become increasingly desperate to know what was down there.

It was a tricky balancing act. Harry was desperate to know what was down there, but equally afraid of knowing. If he was seeing this door it was because Voldemort was obsessed with it..and the more Harry knew about it the more danger that put him in.

Regardless of his curiosity for that corridor, it truly felt like the Occlumency lessons were making everything so much worse. Harry had tried so hard again and again to keep his worst memories stowed in the deepest recesses of his mind, to push it all away and try to focus on the life that was ahead of him. Yet Snape was constantly dredging it all up again, forcing him to relive it all and then leaving the memories there in the forefront of his mind.

There was only one thing that kept Harry returning to the Occlumency lessons, and it wasn't Dumbledore's orders. It was fear.

Sirius's warning had stuck with him, the warning that Voldemort could manipulate him so deeply he might believe something that wasn't real. But until he had mastered Occlumency, and that seemed a while off, how was Harry supposed to trust anything within himself? How could he trust any thought or impulse if Voldemort had the ability to manipulate him so precisely?

It was the evening of his first Occlumency lesson that reality hit him hard - the pain he had felt in his scar and the maniacal laughter that had overcome him. Without knowing or intending it Voldemort had been influencing him from afar, rejoicing in the Azkaban breakout while Harry fell to the floor doubled over in laughter. The thought of that happening again had been terrifying, the idea that Voldemort could seize control of him so easily leaving him feeling violated. His body wasn't really his...not when it could be so easily taken against his will.

In little more than two weeks these lessons had left him feeling even more unhinged and rattled, to the extent that those incidents as he called them had happened again. The first one had made sense at least, coming on the morning they learned of the mass Azkaban breakout of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters. Sitting at Gryffindor table he suddenly felt like the walls were literally closing in on him, that the tight band around his chest was going to suffocate him to death right there and then...but it had passed in a matter of moments, and no one was any the wiser.

After the Azkaban break out things had changed ever so slightly, though not surprisingly Fudge was blaming everything on Sirius, having ignored Harry and Dumbledore's claims that he was innocent. But in the days that followed the Azkaban breakout Harry became the subject of renewed mutterings, except now there was a different tone.

People were more curious than hostile, and it gave him some kind of vindictive satisfaction that the breakout had happened just as Dumbledore warned. People were now beginning to question what Fudge was telling them, some entertaining the possibility that just maybe Harry was telling the truth.

Not unexpectedly the breakout hadn't tempered Umbridge, not even in the slightest. If anything her desire to exert control over Hogwarts had accelerated. She had swiftly enforced Educational Decree Number Twenty Six restricting teachers from giving information outside their teaching subjects, and now seemed more determined than ever that there would be a sacking soon. It was just a matter of whether it was Trelawney or Hagrid.

Slowly but surely, Umbridge was continuing her presumed mission to take everything away from Harry - they couldn't even walk down to Hagrid's hut in the evenings, one of the few bright spots left in life at Hogwarts. Yet Harry took his revenge on Umbridge by focusing more and more of his efforts on the DA, relishing every success and milestone the group achieved, particularly for Neville who had worked harder and longer than anyone.

January was drawing to a close very quickly, their homework, the DA and regular Occlumency classes making the days fly by. Harry began trying to pay better attention to the Transfiguration lesson he was presently in, for McGonagall was now rapid firing questions at them, though blessedly she didn't call on him.

McGonagall had concluded her lesson by the time the bell rang, and was strolling amongst the desks to pass the last few minutes, answering any remaining questions about a test she had set for the following week. When she came by Harry's desk she slowed on the pretence of looking at the notes he had managed to take down, limited though they were.

'Mr Potter, do try to pay better attention in my class from now on,' she murmured quietly. As if she had said nothing at all she continued on, answering a question from Dean Thomas.

'Merlin's saggy left ball,' Ron sighed under his breath. 'What did you do - save her from a runaway carriage?'

McGonagall's unusual behaviour hadn't escaped Ron's notice, but Harry didn't bother wondering why she was being so generous, brushing it off with a mere shrug of his shoulders.

The bell rang, and McGonagall dismissed them after answering one last question. Relieved that it was now lunch Harry roughly shoved his things in his back and swung it over his shoulder, but he faltered for a moment, feeling something strange. While most others filed out of the classroom Ron and Hermione hung back, Ron already asking Hermione a question about something while Harry investigated what was in his bag.

Inside he found a long, thin tube with a label addressed to him and a Ministry of Magic seal. Attached to it was a small scroll of parchment also sealed with a Ministry stamp, but before looking any further he glanced up at McGonagall who was now at the front of the classroom. This package had been slipped into his bag in secret, it hadn't arrived with the breakfast post. McGonagall caught his eye and gave him a very small nod, confirming it had come from her.

Intrigued, Harry hurried out of the classroom as he told Ron and Hermione under his breath, and together they diverted away from their usual trek to the Great Hall to somewhere private. Thanks to a heavy downpour of rain the corridors teemed with students - there was not an iota of privacy in which they could open the unknown contents of a secret package.

Going against the crowd the three of them went outside into one of the courtyards, the only place nearby they were guaranteed privacy. It was cold and windy, the rain falling in thick gussets, but a few well placed charms kept them relatively warm and dry beneath Hermione's enlarged umbrella.

Ron cringed, moving further under the umbrella. 'Ah…'Mione it's dripping on me.'

Hermione extended the charm a little further, and the three of them huddled together for both warmth and privacy as Harry pulled the scroll off the long tube and began to read. His heart was pounding in his chest, already excited before knowing what this was.

Dear Harry.

I did my best, but this is all I can give you.

Remember - you can rock the boat, but please don't capsize it.

Take care, this letter self-incinerates.

Kingsley.

A flame appeared in the top left of the parchment, giving Harry enough time to let go before it dramatically went up in flames and disappeared into ash. Ron muttered 'wicked' under his breath, grinning at what must be an Auror security measure.

'What's he talking about?' Hermione asked tentatively, not yet understanding. 'Rock the boat, but don't capsize it?'

Harry didn't answer. Clutching the tube tightly he made a point of looking all around, and catching on Ron and Hermione did the same. Lately he'd been getting the feeling he was being followed, and it necessitated an overabundance of caution in using the Marauder's Map for him to get to the DA meetings. Confident they were alone and unable to wait a moment longer Harry opened the tube and retrieved the long scroll of parchment - and he immediately recognised it as the transcript from the interview he gave Madam Bones in August.

Large passages of text were blacked out, redacted to minimise potential embarrassment or impact on the investigation should he go ahead with making this public. The names of his interviewers were redacted, as were Mr Weasley's name and comments, the moment Marchbanks told Umbridge to shut her mouth…in fact, almost all of the statements made by Umbridge were redacted.

Harry understood what Kingsley was getting at. It was one thing to go public with his statement, and another thing to publicly accuse Fudge of covering up Voldemort's return and Umbridge of being complicit. Furthermore, he couldn't do anything that might make Lucius Malfoy think the Auror Office was actually on to him. Harry could rock the boat, but he couldn't capsize it...

'It's my statement,' he warned Ron and Hermione, unsure of what else to say. 'It's probably...bad.'

They were already reading over his shoulder, Hermione having cast an Impervious charm on the parchment to protect it from the weather - a good thing too given the long scroll soon trailed down onto the waterlogged ground. He watched his friend's expressions carefully. This was a whole other level of detail that he had never before shared with them. It would be confronting for them to read.

Hermione looked up at him, uncertain. 'You still want to go ahead with this? Even with all the redactions?'

He nodded. 'There's enough here that I don't have to say it all again, that's what I wanted. Have you heard from Skeeter?'

'Not yet, but we've got Luna's dad on board. Skeeter's just playing hard to get because she hates me.'

Standing there under the umbrella Harry continued casting his eyes over the transcript scroll, thinking it over in his mind. Hogsmeade was two weeks away, their one and only shot to show this to Rita Skeeter in person. He couldn't risk sending it to her by owl post, unable to guarantee it would make it to her without interference.

Having been rather quiet until now, Ron cleared his throat and pointed to a passage of text. 'Send that to Skeeter. That'll get a response.'

Following Ron's direction Harry turned his attention to that particular passage, agreeing with him. They'd written to Skeeter weeks ago, and he got the feeling she was holding out on them, trying to gauge how keen they were. This would surely tip her patience over the edge.

'Malfoy tried to tell me he didn't like torturing people, and I started to talk back to him. Then he told me that it was his job to…His job to make sure I was broken. That he would keep going until there was no me left and I would just obey.'

Despite having been determined for weeks now to do this, doubt started to creep in. He thought about the two way mirror in his dormitory, wondering again if he should tell Sirius about his plans. They had spoken once since his return to Hogwarts, Sirius checking in the morning after his first Occlumency lesson, but it had been a quick conversation.

It felt harder than ever to reach out to Sirius, to ask him for anything right now. It was pretty clear that he, Snape and Dumbledore were all aligned when it came to the Occlumency lessons, that they were all in agreement. In moments of petulance Harry resented the fact that Sirius used to be on his side about everything, wondering when exactly that had begun to change.

Still, he wanted to tell Sirius about his plan for the article, to bounce the pros and cons off him…but he hadn't. He supposed it didn't really matter. There was no doubt that Sirius would know his intentions by now. Kingsley would have told anyone who needed to know what Harry was planning to do, Dumbledore and Sirius included. And so far, no one had tried to stop him…that had to mean what he was doing was okay.

'Let's send it to Skeeter,' he agreed with Ron's suggestion. 'And if that's not enough, we'll remind her of the secret we're keeping for her.'

Relieved to be getting out of the rain they hurried back inside and set off for the Owlery, conscious they would have to rush lunch if they wanted to make it across the sodden wet grounds to Herbology without being late. At the Owlery Hermione copied the passage of text onto a fresh sheet of parchment, while Harry looked for Hedwig and called her down.

Though she fluttered down to perch on his shoulder she seemed only mildly annoyed to be delivering a letter in the rain. He still felt terrible about what Umbridge had done to her, and though he shouldn't spoil her too much he did give her a few more Owl treats than necessary. It was a risk sending her with a letter containing such sensitive information, but it was a risk they ought to take - they couldn't mess around any longer. He needed to know if Skeeter was in or out.

Pig was fluttering around excitedly, looking for his own letter to deliver and not caring that it was raining. When his owl's pestering did not relent Ron sighed, muttering out loud that he ought to write to his parents. Finished with Skeeter's letter Hermione did the same thing, telling them it was her parent's wedding anniversary next month.

'I just need to know what their plans are,' she sighed, hastily scrawling her letter. 'If they're doing something special I'll have to let the Order know. Lupin and the others are still keeping an eye on them, thank God.'

Watching his friends writing letters to their respective families Harry began to feel guilty. Tomorrow was his mother's birthday, the thirtieth of January, which would have made her thirty six. As he dwelled on her he knew he ought to reach out to Sirius and say something…he couldn't imagine how lonely it must feel to be him, to have lost two of his closest friends all those years ago. If Harry had lost Ron and Hermione, gone the prison and was then locked up alone in the Dursley's house…

Taking out his own quill and parchment Harry quickly wrote a short letter, feeling strange to be bringing up his mother's birthday out of the blue. Nevertheless he managed to write something and then sent his letter to Sirius with Pig, who practically fell out of the air with excitement to be entrusted with two letters.

As soon as all of their owls departed with their correspondences Harry hastily thought to push these occurrences out of his mind, particularly that of his mother's birthday. He had Occlumency again that night, and didn't need Snape invading his thoughts about his mother and her impending birthday, nor about the transcript or meeting with Skeeter.

They rushed down to the Great Hall now, both Harry and Hermione knowing how important it was to get lunch in - it was just easier being Ron's mate when he was well fed. Harry was about to sit down at the table, Ron already helping himself to a sandwich, when he saw Colin Creevey sitting further along the table. For a few moments Harry stood there watching Colin who was talking with his friends, his plate empty.

Seven months ago Colin had been there at Cedric's memorial, darting amongst all the students and taking pictures. Even now it still felt strange that the memorial was gone, though he knew that Cedric had not simply been forgotten. But these days the gossip and chatter was all about Harry and Dumbledore, about their lies and delusions. No one was talking about Cedric anymore.

That was sure to change with this article, he would ensure Rita Skeeter included the circumstances of Cedric's death…but a new idea had struck him.

Without a word to Ron and Hermione he approached Colin, whose eyes lit up when he looked around and saw Harry coming. These days Colin at least tried to hide his enthusiasm and adoration, no longer treating him like a celebrity but rather just a house mate…albeit one whose autograph he still desperately wanted. But being in the DA had helped curb his enthusiasm, and more than once they'd actually held a coherent conversation, with Harry finding he didn't actually mind Colin when he wasn't harassing him for an autograph.

'Colin, could I have a word?'

Perhaps thinking it was about the DA Colin nodded, getting up and sending in the aisle between the two tables. Over the loud rain and the raucous chatter of the Great Hall it was easy to hold a private conversation, a lesson learned from the DA's disastrous first meeting at the Hog's Head.

'The morning of Cedric's memorial, you were taking pictures, right?'

Colin frowned, this subject coming completely out of the blue. 'Yeah.'

'How would you like your photos to be published in a magazine?'

Colin's eyes lit up again, a tentative smile crossing his face. 'Really? What one?'

'Er…an unusual one. It's to go with an interview I'm giving. But you can't tell anyone.'

'Oh, right. Sure, I've got a tonne of photos! Want to come look at them?'

Harry hesitated at this suggestion, looking around at the people watching them. Up at the teacher's table Umbridge was watching him like a hawk, her beady little eyes bulging like usual…but rather than embolden him today it served to caution him. He didn't want to bring any undue attention on Colin, especially from her.

'Tonight?' he suggested. 'People can you see you talking to me now. I don't want them to give you a hard time'

'I don't care,' Colin said loyally, shrugging his shoulders. 'You know I don't.'

Harry smiled, appreciating this. 'Umbridge is watching. Tonight?'

Conceding, Colin nodded in agreement. 'I've got one I was going to send you over the summer,' he said, sounding like he was trying to make light of it. 'But I wasn't sure if you'd like it or not.'

'A photo of the memorial?'

'S-sort of,' Colin said, giving a nervous smile. But he relaxed a moment later, looking past Harry to Ron and Hermione. They were leaning back from the table to watch on curiously, Ron still eating as they waited for Harry's return. 'Don't worry…I think you'll like it.'

Certain that he could trust Colin, though still a little worried, Harry just played along for now. 'I'll come find you tonight. Thanks Colin.'

When he joined Ron and Hermione he quickly glanced up at the teacher's table again, relieved to see Umbridge had turned her attention elsewhere now, that she was glaring at someone else.

'Wa'sh all tha' 'bout?' Ron asked, speaking with his mouth full.

Helping himself to one of the remaining sandwiches, Harry answered as straight forwardly as he could. 'Luna's dad might hold the front cover, right? Well someone was taking my picture that night I came back. I don't want those pictures to be the front page.'

A/N Bit of a filler chapter to bridge a small time jump and set context, but I hope you enjoyed reading. Next chapter was really enjoyable to write, it's my own spin on the Hogsmeade meeting with Rita Skeeter.

Thanks so much to my reviewers, there have been so many this week especially from a few readers getting caught up. They are so great to read and offer so much encouragement and excitement as a writer, so thanks!