28.

Harry's training with Mentor took place in the evenings. It was very clear early on that Harry would not be able to get any time alone during his waking hours. Umbridge's constant surveillance was one intrusion into his privacy, but Harry's most persistent tail was none other than Cedric Diggory. Harry nearly regretted giving him a copy of the Marauder's map, but after Cedric saved him from a third and fourth Umbridge patrol, he decided the benefits outweighed the inconvenience. During their free periods, Cedric sheparded Harry into the nearest quiet corner with strict instructions to rest. The most interesting spot was a little alcove hidden behind a cupboard on the sixth floor. It had just enough room for both boys to stand in and Cedric allowed Harry to sleep there, leaning on Cedric's back as he read and watched the time. Mentor was amused watching Cedric at first.

"Are you ever alone?" Mentor asked, startling Harry one day during one of his free periods. Harry and Cedric were hidden away in an interesting secret passageway they normally used after Harry had finished Charms. Harry started and sat up as Mentor suddenly appeared before him.

"Alright, Harry?" Cedric asked, head jerking up from his book.

"Yeah, sorry Ced. It was a dream," Harry replied, lying back down. He astral projected, scowling at Mentor.

"Stop doing that," he huffed. Mentor only laughed.

"It's so much fun. Couldn't resist," she said. "He goes everywhere you go."

"He's just worried about me," Harry said, looking at Cedric over his shoulder. Cedric was relaxed sitting against the wall with one knee propped up and the other leg stretched out. His chin was resting on his knee and he was looking down at a potions book he held in one hand.

"I think it's more than that," Mentor said. "And you can feel it too, surely. He needs to keep you in sight. It's like he's scared you're going to disappear if he's not watching you." Harry glanced at Cedric, whose eyes darted to Harry's sleeping body every few minutes before refocusing on his reading. It didn't look like he had made any progress in his book. Harry sighed, raking his hand through his hair.

"I feel so guilty," Harry said. "He's like this because I made them leave me behind."

"And you died," Mentor added.

"Yes, also that," Harry sighed. "I've told him many times that it was my choice and completely not his fault, but I guess he's still feeling this way."

"To be fair, his instincts are right. More people should be afraid for you. You had another near-death experience just in the past month," Mentor said.

"I know," Harry said, sighing deeply again. "I just wish this didn't affect him as much as it has. I wish I could fix this."

"Little human, my only advice here is that you need to learn to be more mindful of the emotions of others. This fantasy you have about passing through this world as if you were never here is unrealistic. Many people care about you and worry about you. If it were me, I would have told you that you were being stupid. Your choices don't just affect you, but all the people who know you," Mentor replied rather bluntly. Harry buried his head into his arms and groaned. He couldn't deny that she was right.

That night, as Harry was settling into bed, Mentor appeared suddenly before him and grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands. Her ghostly appendages passed through his body, taking hold of his very soul and ripping it out of his body, leaving just a tether to his body. Harry's soul was thrown out of bed and into the air in the middle of the room. As Harry regained his bearings, he flew back towards his bed.

"What was that for!?" he cried, gesturing at his body.

"Our lessons begin now, young one," she said, sitting cross legged by Harry's body.

"What? What was I supposed to learn from that?"

"A soul caught off guard will leave a body without a fight. This is how we will get Death out of the headmaster's body."

"Really?" Harry furrowed his brow. "Just like that?"

"Yes, little one. In their former power, this would not have worked. In their current state, it will be enough to get them out of the headmaster's body."

"What about after? I don't think I can take them on. I mean, it's Death. Aren't they like a god or something?"

The demon laughed. "No, nothing so grand. Though you are correct in that you are not strong enough as they are and there is not enough time to make you strong enough. I will handle making Death leave. Your job is only to get them out. I cannot do it because Death will know I am there if I try to help. Get Death out and leave the rest to me. Understood?"

"Yes, Mentor," Harry said.

"Good, now your turn."

Harry looked around him and asked, "On who?"

"Simple," Mentor said, amused. She dove into Harry's body and sat up smiling. "On me," she said in Harry's voice. Harry spent the rest of the evening practicing. Mentor laid back down in Harry's sleeping body and allowed him to separate her from his body. After many unsuccessful attempts, Harry finally managed it and repossessed his own body.

"Took you long enough," Mentor sighed, floating lazily above him. "You must use more force. Give Death no opportunity to throw you off." Harry rubbed his face tiredly.

"I hope I can pull this off," He said, yawning. "We only have one shot. No telling what will happen if I fail."

"We have time," Mentor said gently. "Now rest. You have done well tonight, child." Harry was already asleep.

Their lessons continued this way every night. Despite their lessons continuing into the early morning, Harry never felt fatigued when he woke in his body. While his soul was training, his real body was still resting. His real life lessons, however, took a toll on his still-recovering magical core. One day in transfiguration, Professor McGonagall called Harry to demonstrate the vanishing spell, a tricky bit of magic that Harry had mastered the year before. She conjured a kitten at the beginning of class and challenged any student to vanish it for house points.

"Although I expected this to be a challenge, I did not expect all of you to fail so miserably at vanishing even inanimate objects. Mr. Potter, can you please redeem your classmates by performing the vanishing spell on this kitten? As you all know, mammals are the most difficult to vanish. However, Mr. Potter is your peer and if he can do it, I am confident that all of you will be able to as well by the end of term." McGonagall ushered Harry to the front of the class. Harry cleared his throat and nervously held his wand in front of him, hoping his core could take the power draw the spell required.

"Evanesco," he said, clearly, while making the accompanying wand movements. Immediately, he had to fight to keep his breathing even and his legs from buckling under him. A strange burning sensation travelled up his wand arm and into his chest. It felt like what he imagined a heart attack must feel like. He gritted his teeth as the spell took its toll and lowered his arm before quickly returning to his seat.

"A good show, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall chirped, turning her attention back to the rest of the class. Harry tugged his robe back on and thankfully, no one noticed his trembling wand arm or the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Harry spent the rest of class reading again as his classmates tried the spell.

As soon as class was over, he dashed to the first hiding spot that came to mind, the abandoned girls' lavatory. As soon as the large green doors closed behind him, he threw himself at the sink and vomited everything he'd eaten that day. The burning sensation had not subsided and his head spun. He couldn't keep himself balanced and fell sideways onto the cold tile floor. Even with his eyes closed, it felt like the room was spinning around him. He couldn't tell how long he laid there shivering. Before long, Harry heard the doors open and the distinct metallic clink of Cedric's prosthetic foot. The footsteps stopped for a heartbeat before Cedric ran to Harry's side.

"Harry!" he cried, voice panicked. He helped Harry sit up and propped him up against the sinks. Hearing Harry groan, Cedric seemed only slightly relieved.

"You're breathing! Thank Merlin. What's wrong? How can I help?" Cedric rambled as his hands hovered around Harry's arms, ready to catch him if he fell. Cedric conjured a glass and filled it with water from the sinks. Harry took it gratefully.

"I'm okay," Harry groaned. He rubbed his sore chest as he caught his breath, finally feeling better.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey? You don't look well," Cedric asked.

"No," Harry said quickly, "this is, er, a side effect of what happened to me last year. I was managing it well, but I think I overdid it vanishing something in transfiguration."

"Harry, why didn't you say anything to Professor McGonagall? She would have let you sit out," Cedric said, still worried.

"I don't want anyone to worry. I'm really fine. I was managing it well on my own." Harry couldn't meet Cedric's eyes. "Whole school's already been looking at me weird. I just want things to be normal again."

Cedric sighed and leaned against the sinks next to him. "No, I understand. They've been treating me strangely too. It's like I've grown a second head."

Harry snorted and drew his knees up to his chest. "Is that why you hide out here with me?"

"Partly. I just...want to make sure you're okay," he said, swallowing thickly as he redirected his gaze at the floor.

"Cedric, you know what happened to me wasn't your fault, right? My choice was my own and I would have done it again if I could choose if it meant all of you were safe," Harry said, gently. Cedric nodded, blinking and clearing his throat.

"I know, Harry, I know. I just can't stop thinking about that night. Every time I close my eyes, I just...I see you lying there after…" he trailed off. "It helps if I can see you and I know you're okay."

"I'm sorry, Ced," Harry said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean for you to feel like this."

"I know, Harry," Cedric said, smiling. "I'm seeing a mind healer. It'll be a long journey, but I have the support of my family and my friends. These quiet times with you also help." A moment of silence passed between them.

"Harry, I heard from the other prefects that you are to teach the other students Defense," Cedric said after a while.

"Oh yeah, first meeting's at the next Hogsmeade visit," Harry said.

"Harry, you can't possibly teach in this state."

"You're right," Harry said, "but they said they couldn't think of anyone else. Sixth years are all busy with NEWTs."

"Harry, I'll help," Cedric said.

"Aren't you also studying?"

"Yes, but if both of us work on teaching, I can handle the workload. I can do practical demonstrations so you don't have to cast."

"You're absolutely sure? We're going to have to keep quiet about this. Umbridge won't like it."

"She can piss off, can't she?" Cedric said, a roguish smile returning to his face for the first time in ages.

"You're on, Ced," Harry said, laughing. They shook on it.

Late one evening, after his lessons with Mentor, Harry contacted Tom through the two-way mirror. "Hey there, stranger," Tom said, smiling sleepily up at Harry from his bed, face illuminated by the light of a lumos.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Harry asked, smiling back.

"Yes, but it's alright. You're a special exception. I know you're an insufferable insomniac," he said, laughing.

"Very funny," Harry said, rolling into his side. "I gotta tell you something. Don't be mad, okay?"

"I promise I won't be mad. What is it?" Tom asked, his mirth dampening somewhat.

"I, uh, almost died in the forbidden forest a few weeks ago," Harry said. Tom inhaled deeply, visibly trying to control his reaction.

"Are you okay? Are you safe now?"

"Yeah I'm fine now...mostly." Harry explained what happened in the forest and his meeting Mentor.

"That's incredible, Harry," Tom said. "If she can really help you get Death out of Dumbledore's body, then everything changes. He could be such a powerful ally. Don't think you're off the hook, though. I thought I told you to take care of yourself, not immediately volunteer yourself as a human sacrifice."

Harry squirmed under his gaze. "I'm sorry. I will take care of myself, I swear. I'm still working on it. It was an emergency. The centaurs were going to kick me out and it was my only chance at getting at the rune."

Tom sighed and waved his hands around. "I know, Harry. I'm sorry, I just...wish for once it didn't have to be you. It's unfair." Tom's voice grew quiet. "Anyhow," he continued after a pause, "I know the holidays are a ways off, but I'd like to see you, if that's alright."

Harry laughed. "Of course it's alright! As long as the Malfoys don't see you, I don't think there's a problem."

"Oh but I'd love to scare them. Just a little. Please?"

"Absolutely not," Harry responded. Tom continued to whine as Harry jokingly refused his threats until Tom ordered him to go to bed.

The day of the next Hogsmeade visit arrived. Harry walked with Cedric to the Hog's Head at the agreed upon time. Harry was exhausted from that week's spell work and his detentions with Umbridge. The combination of blood loss and his flagging magical core were enough to make him winded during the walk to Hogsmeade. Cedric hovered around him as if he might fall over at any second. As they entered the Hog's Head, Harry was stunned at the sheer number of people waiting for him. The prefects were there, of course, but about twenty fifth year students and a handful of younger students were piled into the small, dingy bar. Harry even caught a glimpse of Justin Finch-Fletchly of all people crouched behind a group of Hufflepuff students. Most held bottles of butter beer in their hands, the only drink that was served in its bottle and therefore free of grime. Those that were unfortunate enough to try the tea appeared to have abandoned their drinks at the sight of the gray buildup covering the bottom of the mug. The gathered students fell silent as he entered, looking expectantly at him. Hermione offered him a seat at the head of the table. Cedric kept a watchful eye on Harry and pulled another chair over to sit at his side.

"Er, hello, everyone," Harry began, "I didn't think there would be so many of you."

"We all want to learn real Defense, Harry, You're the very best at Defense. You won the triwizard tournament last year and you have more experience than anybody. There can be no better teacher," Dean Thomas said to many cheers of agreement.

"Thank you all," Harry said, uncomfortable with their praise. "I think I'd like to know what all of your expectations are. What is it you'd like to learn, I suppose."

"We want to fight like you do," Michael Corner said, raising his hand. Many other students agreed with him enthusiastically.

"I understand that," Harry replied after thinking on it, "but I want to be absolutely clear. I will only be teaching defensive spells." Harry could see many disappointed expressions in the crowd.

"Professor Lupin was correct when he said that we must learn to use our magic responsibly, that all of us wield power that could be easily used as weapons. I've experienced more than my fair share of violent spells and I understand that it may seem like you need to fight fire with fire." Harry looked down at his scarred hands, pausing briefly as he took a deep breath. "But I'd like to be an idealist and manifest a more peaceful future where magical folk can defend against offensive magic, but will resort to defense first."

"Shouldn't we know offensive magic as well then? We all want to be as skilled as you are. You know a lot about offensive magic, don't you?" A younger Slytherin student asked.

"Yes, but I would like to teach everyone foundational defensive skills first so that your first instincts are to use defense. The offensive stuff, you'll all learn later, presumably. Umbridge will not be at Hogwarts forever and I...I don't want to train you to be like me. I learned to fight out of a need to survive. I've treated nearly every day of my life like a life or death situation. I go into every fight believing I am going to die. I don't want any of you to experience life the way I do." Harry paused again, considering his next words.

"Teaching offensive spells also means accepting that any of you may use what I taught you to kill. I have killed many people at this point and I remember all of their faces. I'd like to protect you all from having to live with that." Harry sighed, feeling spent.

"Harry will not be doing this alone," Cedric added. "We will be teaching together. I will handle the casting and demonstrations and Harry will plan the curriculum and explain defensive theory." Harry was relieved when no one questioned the sudden development.

Hermione pushed forward and began speaking about logistics and a meeting time, asking for suggestions on a meeting place. The smell of the place, the heat of the fire, and the stress of the situation, were all beginning to make Harry feel sick. His heart beat too loud and fast in his chest and the world around him seemed to vibrate. He rubbed his temples and breathed deeply, trying not to lose his lunch.

"Are you okay?" Cedric asked from his side. He was the only one to notice Harry's zoned out expression.

"Headache," Harry replied.

"Do you need to lie down?" Cedric asked quietly. Harry shook his head. The meeting continued uninterrupted and when no one could come up with a proper meeting space, Harry volunteered the Room of Requirement.

"It's a room that disappears and reappears when a student needs it," Harry said sheepishly. "I went there a lot last year to train for the tournament. Found it by accident." Hermione concluded the meeting by handing out enchanted coins and making everyone sign an agreement to keep the meetings secret.

"If I find out that anyone here has informed Umbridge of our meetings, Umbridge will be the least of your worries," Hermione said sweetly.

"How you can say that with a smile, I'll never know, 'mione," Ron said as he stood to leave.

The meetings began the next week, with Harry starting everyone off on expelliarmus. It was no surprise that most his year could manage the spell fairly well after some review. They had, after all, learned much from Lupin and the fake Moody. Satisfied, Harry moved the group onto more complicated spells like reducto, impedimenta, and stupefy. Harry copied a bit of his teaching style from McGonagall. He drew diagrams and explained the history and theory behind each spell which the students could refer to while attempting the spell. Thanks to Cedric, who handled all demonstrations, no one was any the wiser about Harry's weakened state for the first few meetings.

One afternoon, the group was working on reducto, a spell that was supposed to be on the fifth year curriculum. The younger students were faring well despite the spell being more advanced and Harry was satisfied with their progress. The Room of Requirement had provided dummies that students could practice on. Cho and Ginny practiced together and took turns tallying how many dummies they could disintegrate each.

"That's fifteen for me and twelve for you," Cho said triumphantly, holding her arms up in victory.

"That's not fair. You learned this last year!" Ginny said, laughing despite losing their contest.

"Doesn't matter. Next Hogsmeade visit, lunch is on you," Cho replied.

Harry chuckled and turned away from their conversation to draw the next diagram in preparation for the next spell.

"Uh, Harry?" a voice asked. Harry turned and was surprised to find Justin Finch-Fletchly standing there, fidgeting with his wand.

"Hi Justin, how can I help you?" Harry asked, a smile ready on his face.

"I, uh, was wondering if you could help me with reducto. I can't seem to get the same power Ginny and Cho are getting. Barely scratched the dummy, you see."

"Sure, let me see you cast," Harry said. He followed Justin to his training dummy and watched his wand movements as he cast. As Justin recited the incantation, Harry noted that the incantation and the wand movements were fine. However, the spell hit the dummy like a rubber ball and left barely a scratch on the dummy.

"I see," Harry said. "You're performing the spell just fine, but you have to remember the intention is the most important part of a spell. That's why wandless and silent casting is possible." Harry raised his wand as if to demonstrate, but hesitated and lowered it again.

"Er, try to imagine what you want the spell to do to the dummy. The goal is to destroy it, so get a little creative. Imagine it blowing up like a firecracker or something." Harry sheathed his wand and gestured for Justin to give it a try. Justin thought for a second and tried the spell again. The dummy exploded in a puff of dust and chunks of wood clattered to the floor. The explosion wasn't grand, but it was much better than his last attempt. Justin laughed, a triumphant look on his face.

"I did it!" he said, looking to Harry.

"That's really great, Justin," Harry replied. "Keep practicing it and let me know if you have any other questions."

"Thank you, Harry," Justin said as he was turning away. "And I'm sorry for how I treated you before. I was being a prat."

"Thank you, Justin," Harry said, "I appreciate that." Harry went back to drawing his diagrams. Cedric walked up to him, glancing at Justin.

"Justin didn't give you any trouble, did he?" he asked.

"No, actually, he apologized to me," Harry replied. "Wonder what changed."

"He's been quiet ever since the end of the tournament. I think he's finally realizing how serious last year was."

"I'm surprised, but I'm glad," Harry said. The session ended and the members slowly trickled out of the room. Cedric monitored the Marauder's map to make sure the hall was empty as people left. Each person also carefully disillusioned themselves as they exited the room. Harry was the last to leave. When everyone was gone, Harry finally had some time alone. He plopped tiredly onto the floor and rolled up his left sleeve. The bandage there had already failed to keep the blood from seeping through. If he hadn't been wearing black, it would almost certainly have shown through on his clothes. Harry unwrapped the bandage, exposing a long, angry, cut running up the length of his forearm that refused to close due to the enchantments of the blood quill. He lacked the magical reserves to maintain his glamour, so he hid the wound under dark sweaters and made sure no one was around to see him change. Mentor appeared at his side.

"That's not looking good at all,' she quipped. "Shouldn't you tell someone about it?"

"Nope," Harry replied as he focused on rebandaging his arm. "It would put the other teachers in danger. They'd fight Umbridge for me and who knows what she'd do in retaliation? Can't risk it with Dolohov in the Ministry."

"You're making a lot of assumptions. Maybe Dolohov only has control over Umbridge."

"Yes, but I can only assume the entire ministry is lost," Harry replied, shrugging.

"Well, why don't we go there and take a look?" she asked.

"What?"

"I'm serious. You just need some practice. Trust your Mentor, child," she said smugly before disappearing. Harry smiled as he shook his head. He finished bandaging his arm and returned to the common room. Later that night, Harry astral projected to meet Mentor in the middle of the dormitory.

"So how will we get all the way to London from here?" Harry asked.

"Ye of little faith," Mentor scoffed. "You have the Sight. You can see all the little threads of magic connecting the world, correct?"

"Yeah, and?"

"As a soul, you can hitch a ride on them. Ghosts travel the same way. Everything is connected. You can go anywhere you can think of. Aim is a little hard, but you get the hang of it. Give it a try. Just grab onto a thread of magic, think of where you want to go, and you'll be there."

Harry touched the nearest thread to him and pictured his grandparents' house. The thread seemed to yank him into it like a vending machine snatching up money. Blurred scenery whirled around him at breakneck speed as he traveled with the current of magic. He felt stretched out, everywhere and nowhere at once. He caught a glimpse of his grandparents' house and dove out of the stream just in time to crash face-first onto the roof of the house. He landed in a half-complete tumble, his feet up around his ears. Mentor appeared beside him.

"As I said, aiming is hard," she said, laughing as Harry uncurled himself and shook his head.

"Ow," he said.

"Oh stop whining. You're a soul. You can't feel anything."

"Well it was still uncomfortable," he whined anyway.

"An admirable first attempt," Mentor said, shrugging. "Now, you can get back the normal way, or you can force your body to call your soul back. Imagine your body and give your soul a tug. Be careful, though. If you tug too hard, you'll-" but it was too late, Harry already pulled his soul back into his body. His soul slammed back into his body and he sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Thankfully, his bed was silenced.

"I was going to say you'll have a hard landing," Mentor said as she appeared before him.

"Ugh," Harry said, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Ah yes. Forgot about you mortals and your gag reflexes. Shake it off, Harry. Much more practice to do." Harry practiced for the rest of the evening, visiting places he knew and others that were new and wondrous. As the sun began to rise, Mentor brought him to a spot atop the tallest tree in the Forbidden Forest, where he could watch the morning sunlight chase the darkness away from the whole of Hogwarts. The tree was as wide as two of him and he could scarcely fit his arms around one of it's branches.

"How do you stop yourself from doing this all day?" Harry sighed, leaning against the tree.

"You get used to it," Mentor laughed.

"Can anyone see us while we're like this?" Harry asked.

"You can make yourself visible to living beings, like a ghost does," she replied. "But they can't touch you, so better to be careful." She put a finger to her cheek and looked at Harry contemplatively.

"What?" Harry asked, squirming a little.

"It'll be time soon," she said, shrugging. "You're ready. We're getting Death out of the old man's body."

"What? Really? O-okay, when?" Harry asked.

"I'll find the next opportunity. You must promise that when I come to get you, you will follow," she said.

"Of course, Mentor," Harry replied.

The next week, Gryffindor started its quidditch season against Slytherin. Ginny had insisted Harry take the first game. Angelina pulled them aside at their last practice session and asked which one would play at the first game.

"I know you and Draco are keeping count," Ginny said. "Couldn't take away this rare chance to beat you from Draco. He'd kill me."

"Wait, are you helping him take advantage of my weakened state?" Harry asked in mock horror.

"Of course I am," Ginny replied.

"That's fine, but the second you feel unwell, Ginny tags in," Angelina quipped. "Got it Potter?"

"You're helping Draco too? Whose side are you on, Angelina?" Harry groaned.

"I'd pay to see you lose, Potter," Angelina laughed. "It's like seeing a shooting star, innit? A rare opportunity."

"What has the world come to?" Harry sighed.

Harry took off as the game began. He looked over at Draco, who grinned at him and raised an eyebrow. It was clear he was more determined to win than ever. Harry saw the snitch, of course, but wondered if he should just let Draco have this one. Draco spotted the snitch and gave chase. Harry followed close behind. They weaved around each other and the other players in a whirlwind of color, both boys laughing as the wind whipped through their robes. Harry allowed Draco to gain a lead, but sped up in front of him by tracking and predicting the snitch's movements. They continued this dance for a while as both teams scored points. When Draco lost the snitch, Harry played along. Just as he was about to decide to just sit back and allow Draco to win, Mentor appeared in front of him. He was flying at top speed chasing the snitch a few yards in front of Draco.

"Now?" He shouted. Mentor looked impatient and crossed her arms. Harry pulled away abruptly from his course and headed straight for the stands, where the reserve team was waiting. Ginny made eye contact as he approached and was ready.

"You're in, go!" Harry said breathlessly. Ginny took off thunderously and resumed chasing the snitch. Harry sat down onto the bleachers and rested his head against the rough wood, closing his eyes as he caught his breath. The others on the reserve team gave him his space. He astral projected out of his body, which appeared to be asleep. Mentor was waiting with instructions.

"He's alone now in his office because everyone is here watching the game. His watchers are at the foot of the rotating staircase. Go now," she clipped. He didn't wait for her to finish and sped at breakneck speed through the nearest stream of magic to Dumbledore's office. He saw Dumbledore's body and launched himself at it with brute force, knocking something into the astral plane. Death shrieked, a horrible, grating sound as they were ripped from Dumbledore's body. Harry ignored them and dove into Dumbledore's body to stop Death from repossessing it. Harry finally saw Death, an incorporeal humanoid with no identifying features, not even a face. Their body was made of opaque, gray smoke that shimmered as they moved, like an oil slick. They towered over Harry, hunched over to inspect him disdainfully.

"I should have known," Death rasped. Their voice creaked and crackled as if from the back of their throat. Their voice had a deep, husky quality that sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"You don't think you can defeat me, young man," they rasped, hovering closer. They stretched out their arms, giggling as they approached. Suddenly, Mentor was between them.

Death gasped and backed away a step, lowering their arms. "It's you.." they said, voice softer.

"Hello, old friend," Mentor said, tone subdued.

"Why are you here? Get out of the way. I need that body. I need that child. My careful plans could be ruined." They took a step closer to Harry. Mentor held up her arms protectively between them.

"What are you doing?" Death asked, jumping back as if touching her would burn them. "You...you're helping him? But why? You're my friend. You..wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

Mentor shook her head. "We've talked about this, old friend. I cannot watch you continue torturing these souls. These humans are under my protection."

"You don't understand. I need them. All of the preparation. I can't waste it!" Death took another step to get around her. Mentor moved in their path.

"Move!" Death cried, moving around her again.

"They are under my protection," Mentor said as she blocked their path once more. Death whined in frustration and raised a hand to strike Mentor. They caught themselves and held the hand shakily in place.

"You wouldn't hurt me either, right old friend?" Mentor asked. "I could never hurt you and you could never hurt me. I think your options are clear here."

Death eyed Harry in Dumbledore's body and looked back at Mentor. "This is the last time, demon," Death hissed.

"Goodbye," Mentor said flatly. Death disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Harry felt like he could breathe again for the first time in ages. From his perch, Fawkes squawked. Harry grinned and leaped out of Dumbledore's body. He took hold of Dumbledore's soul and carefully reattached him to his body. Fawkes fell to the floor, lifeless. Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at himself. Harry made himself visible and Dumbledore turned to him, smiling.

"Did I do it right? How do you feel?" Harry asked.

"I feel myself again for the first time in decades, Harry. I owe you a debt I can never repay in this lifetime," he replied. He looked down at his beard and his garish robes.

"My fashion sense wasn't quite this unhinged. This beard will be the first to go. Awful, truly awful." He waved his wand and his beard was instantly much shorter, but full and perfectly groomed. Another waive and his hair was slicked back and bound in a long braid down his back. One final wave and the gaudy purple robes were replaced by a white dress shirt, gray waistcoat, purple tie, and slacks. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Much better," Dumbledore said, standing up and stretching.

"I'll say," Harry said, still staring at Dumbledore in disbelief. Suddenly, something out of the corner of his eye burst into flames.

"Ah, Fawkes," Dumbledore cooed as he knelt to inspect the fire. Fawkes was quickly reduced to ashes. Moments later, the ashes clumped together to form a new Fawkes, which chirped and blinked sleepily up at Dumbledore.

"Thank you for allowing me to take refuge in your body for so long, dear friend," Dumbledore said. He picked up Fawkes and deposited him stop his perch before turning back to Harry.

"Phoenixes can just...do that? I mean, your soul was in there for decades."

Dumbledore laughed with his hands on his hips. "Yes, well we couldn't be sure what would happen after so long, but Fawkes's ability to be reborn after each death allowed his soul to stay independent of mine this whole time. We've been something like roommates these past fifty years. I love the fellow to bits, but I'm glad it's over."

"I can imagine," Harry said. He leaned against the headmaster's desk and yelped when he fell right through it. "Gah! Forgot about that," he said. Dumbledore laughed and glanced at one of the instruments on his desk.

"Goodness, Harry. You ought to go back to your body," he said. "It appears Gryffindor won the match. Congratulations! However, your teammates couldn't wake you and your body was taken to the hospital wing. Hurry and don't worry. I'll be in the hospital wing shortly." Harry was very confused, but did as Dumbledore ordered. He dove into a magical stream and landed forcefully back into his own body. His eyes snapped open to the worried faces of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Sirius, Madam Pomfrey, Healer Smethwyck, McGonagall, and Snape. Cedric was also there at his side holding his broom. Harry was still dressed in his quidditch gear except for his left bracer. He glanced down at his left arm and realized that Madam Pomfrey had begun undoing his dressings. Harry jerked his arm away.

"Harry, calm down," Sirius said as he and several other adults reached out to him. Harry flinched away from their touch and they backed off. "Cedric carried you here after you fainted. You're hurt." Harry held his arm closer to himself.

"It's just a scratch," he said, looking down. "It's nothing to worry about. I fell the other day and my arm got caught on something." He broke out into a cold sweat as his mind raced to find a way out of the situation.

"Harry, you're bleeding," Cedric said as he set down the broom and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry allowed the contact and relaxed incrementally. Cedric held out his hand. Reluctantly, Harry offered him his trembling left arm. Cedric unwound the rest of the bandage, exposing a long, inflamed gash that ran all the way down the inside of his forearm. Spidery purple veins emanated from the wound's raised, rough edges. The wound was hot to the touch and bled as though it was a freshly opened. Everyone in the room gasped softly at the sight of it. Cedric allowed Smethwyck to inspect it more closely.

"I've never seen this before," Smethwyck muttered, waving his wand over the wound.

"I have," Snape said, his voice crestfallen.

"As have I," Lucius said. "Someone made him use a blood quill." His voice was icy calm.

"Harry, who-" McGonagall began. Harry jerked his arm away again.

"No, it's not what you think," he said. "Nobody's done anything to me. I-I-"

"Harry, it's okay," Cedric said. "We just want to help. Who made you use a blood quill?"

"I can't," Harry said, clutching his arm even more tightly. Just then, the door to the hospital wing opened and Dumbledore strode into Harry's wing.

"Good afternoon," he said as he surveyed the room. Everyone was shocked by his sudden appearance and how different he looked.

"Headmaster you are not-" Lucius began.

"It's okay, Mr. Malfoy," Harry interrupted. Lucius looked confused, but nodded and gestured for Dumbledore to approach. The headmaster pushed past everyone else in the room and walked over to Harry.

"May I?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded and allowed Dumbledore to look at the wound. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You must have been in so much pain. But my dear boy, you don't need to protect us any longer. We can hold our own against Umbridge."

"That loathsome creature? It was her?" Lucius exclaimed, forgetting entirely that he once considered Dumbledore his mortal enemy.

"Yes, I was inspecting her classroom this afternoon and I found this," Dumbledore replied, handing a scroll to the Malfoys. They unfurled it to reveal rows and rows of the same sentence, "I will behave," written in shaky handwriting in what could only be blood.

"There are many more. I heard Harry had collapsed and I came straight here, but I called the aurors and they are investigating as we speak." He turned his attention back to Harry. "She must have threatened to harm your teachers and your classmates. You carried a heavy burden all by yourself, but you're safe now. You have done enough. Can you leave the rest to us?" Harry looked up into Dumbledore's eyes and knew his words were sincere. Harry sighed deeply and he sank back down onto the bed, tired shoulders hunched. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand and nodded.

"Okay," he said, looking around the room into the faces of the people he loved, people he realized should have trusted more. The next thing he knew, there were aurors in his room. Tonks and Shacklebolt arrived and he told them everything about Umbridge's threats, the inadequate curriculum, the blood quill, and his regular detentions. Tonks's hair turned a violent red, but she retained her composure.

"I don't think she's acting on the Minister's orders. There's something wrong with the way she targeted me. The Minister would have had no reason to hurt me. On top of that, the blood quill is a rare dark artifact. Nobody in the ministry would know how to get one."

"Could be a death eater plot, don't you think?" Tonks asked.

"We'd need to investigate further," Shacklebolt replied. "But that is for us to worry about. Harry, thank you for the information."

"Yes, I think you have all you need now, Shacklebolt," Dumbledore said. "Harry, you've done your part. Sleep. You need it. You should do it." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but they had already gone from the room. Harry shook his head incredulously and flopped back down into his pillows.

When Harry next woke, he was in hospital wing pyjamas and there was a loud commotion just outside the door to his wing. The sun was just beginning to set and the room was aglow with golden light. His left arm was positioned face up on a pillow and covered in a foul smelling poultice. Madame Pomfrey had applied it as he slept.

"You have no right to withdraw Mr. Potter from my class!" Harry could hear Umbridge yelling.

"I am still headmaster of this school. I am well within my rights to protect Mr. Potter as an investigation is ongoing," Dumbledore answered, his deep voice firm.

"As his head of house, I must agree with the headmaster," Professor McGonagall said, joining in. "Even if Professor Dumbledore lacked the power to withdraw Mr. Potter due to the terms of his reinstatement, I would have withdrawn him as well. Madam, you must realize that you are under suspicion of using a cursed torture device on a student, a serious offense."

"And as his parents," Narcissa Malfoy said, cutting in, "we absolutely agree with the headmaster and Professor McGonagall. We insist that he be kept away from you. It has become clear from what the other students have told us that you are actively hazing him."

"You are not his parents," Umbridge spat. "He is in more danger living with you than he ever was in my class."

"We may not be his biological parents," Lucius said, "but he is our son. He has had a loving home in our care. You, madam, used a blood quill on him. That is a cursed artifact, the possession of which warrants a wand snapping and time in Azkaban. You are the person being suspected of a crime here, not us. I will be reporting this to the board. Expect a demand for your resignation."

"I don't care what any of you have to say on the matter. I am here under the authority of the Minister for magic to arrest that boy," Umbridge ranted.

"You will never have that chance," Lucius bit back. "Our solicitor has made it clear that you have no warrant and no reasonable grounds to arrest Harry. In fact, you would have been arrested for child abuse if not for the Minister's protection."

"The aurors are here for Harry's protection, not yours," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Dawlish, Mr. Shacklebolt, if you would."

"With pleasure," Dawlish growled. Harry heard the sound of a very short scuffle before he heard footsteps leading away from the hospital wing. Harry sat up blearily as the door to his wing opened and Dumbledore walked in.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"That was awesome," Harry rasped, nodding his head in approval. He stretched his arms, forgetting about his injured arm and hissed as the movement tugged at the wound. Dumbledore chuckled as he gently guided Harry's injured arm back to the pillow.

"You look terrible," he said, taking a seat by Harry's bed. He flicked his wand and a glass of water appeared at his bedside.

"Sorry," Harry said, taking the water.

"Quite alright, dear boy," he said, laughing. "I meant what I said out there, Harry. From now on, instead of Defense, I'd like you to come to my office."

"What for, sir?" Harry asked groggily.

"Why, so I can teach you. This is a school after all."

Harry blinked at him and straightened a little. "You'll teach me?"

"Of course. I've been watching you all this time and I know you have learned well beyond the curriculum that your year normally covers."

"What will you teach me?" Harry asked, still a little awestruck.

"Anything you want. I have decades of spells for you to choose from. But first, we will have to work on repairing and replenishing your magical core. Don't think I missed you nearly killing yourself in the forbidden forest, young man. That was a very foolish thing you did."

"Wait, repair? You can do that?"

"You can do that," Dumbledore said. He stood and checked his pocket watch, which he kept in a little pocket on his waistcoat. "It's nearly time for dinner and I'm expected in the great hall. Do eat, Harry. I will know if you didn't." Harry obeyed and busied himself reading for the rest of the evening. When Madam Pomfrey finally retired for the night, Harry pulled out his two-way mirror and waited for Tom's face to appear there.

"Snape told me you were in the hospital wing again," Tom said, expression and tone concerned, "and for a blood quill. Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill that Umbridge woman."

"Because she's our only lead on what's happening at the Ministry," Harry said, laughing. Tom couldn't help but smile, but the corners of his mouth soon turned downward again as he looked at Harry's face. His expression was still soft, but his eyes were filled with worry.

"That wound on your arm was in bad shape. I'm not going to hassle you over keeping to yourself. You're probably going to get enough from your family about it. I'm just going to repeat myself again and again until you believe me. You can trust me, Harry. If you are ever in trouble again, you can call me and I will be there to help."

"Thank you, Tom," Harry said, smiling at him. "I do trust you. I'm still trying to get used to this. I know I need to rely on you and everyone around me more."

Tom smirked, expression soft. "I get it, you know. The secrets, the loneliness."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked sleepily.

"You know, keeping secrets from everyone so you'd be left alone."

"Oh that," Harry said, laughing. "I realized today that I should have told someone about Umbridge. Asked for help. It's just so hard."

"It is," Tom said gently. "It's that feeling like if you asked anything of anyone they'd disappear forever."

"I thought it was so much easier to do everything alone. I thought it wouldn't hurt anyone because nobody cared. Nobody used to. I always thought…" Harry trailed off. Tom chuckled.

"You thought you were never very high up on anyone's list of priorities. Hurt by so many people that you stopped having expectations of anyone."

"How did you stop feeling like this?" Harry asked. Tom shook his head.

"I didn't. Even when I had hundreds of people following me, I was afraid. You take it one day at a time. Some days were worse than others. I had this recurring nightmare that if my friends were given the choice to save just one person from falling off a cliff, no one would ever choose me."

"I'd choose you," Harry said. Tom smirked.

"I'd choose you too," he replied.

Harry began his lessons with Dumbledore the next day. Madam Pomfrey released him from the Hospital Wing that morning and he was allowed to attend classes normally. He was a few minutes late to Herbology because he needed to go back to the common room for his books.

"Mr. Potter, it's good to see you up and about," Professor Sprout said cheerfully. "You are to sit over here by me and watch today. No spell work for you, dear, doctor's orders." She gave Harry no room to complain, so he did as he was told and simply took notes. All of his morning classes were about the same.

"Go relax in the corner, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick said at Charms. "We both know you won't be missing anything. You know how to perform a confundus already. Take a nap or something." He scuttled away before Harry could even respond. As he stood there wondering if he should actually take a nap in the corner, Ron turned him towards the empty corner desk.

"You heard the man," he said. "Relax. Go." Harry gave in and went to his corner and did indeed sleep for the full class period. During lunch, every student in the school seemed to be staring at him or walking on eggshells around him.

"What is wrong with everyone today?" Harry asked Draco.

"Oh, that's right, you missed it," Draco said, forking more food onto Harry's plate. "Dumbledore announced the investigation against Umbridge to the whole school this morning. The other professors are taking turns teaching Defense while she's gone. Naturally, the rumor mill is saying it's because she's been torturing you during your detentions."

"It was just a blood quill!" Harry said, hopefully loud enough for other students to hear. Draco laughed.

"You're precious, Harry," he said. "The teachers are all treating you differently, Umbridge isn't at the staff table today, and everyone knows you practically keeled over yesterday at quidditch. The school is completely invested in believing you allowed yourself to be tortured to protect everyone from Umbridge. Just bask in the attention." Harry wished instead that he could melt into the walls.

Instead of going to his Defense class after lunch, Harry made a beeline for Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore met him at the door and ushered him in. His office was neat as usual, but everything seemed to be in a different place than before.

"You did some redecorating?" Harry asked as he took off his bag.

"Of course I did," Dumbledore said, chuckling. "I felt like everything needed a little shuffling around to get the stink of that creature off of it. Besides, my office pretty much stayed unchanged for decades. It was time for a change."

"I'm glad you're doing well," Harry said, still unused to speaking so freely with Dumbledore.

"Speaking of doing well, how are you recovering, hm? Let me see that arm of yours." Dumbledore beckoned for Harry to show him his arm. Harry pushed up his sleeve obediently, revealing his bandages, through which blood had already begun seeping. Dumbledore tsked as he unwound the bandages.

"Even with all of Poppy's skill, it's still like this." Dumbledore waved a hand over the wound and conjured new bandages around Harry's wrist.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, quickly shoving his sleeve back over the bandage. Dumbledore's eyes darted to Harry's hands fleetingly. He smiled.

"Not a problem, Harry. Have a seat." Dumbledore gestured to cushions on the floor. He sat across from Harry and his eyes followed him as he adjusted himself on the cushions.

"How has your day been, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well all the professors seemed to think I was an invalid today," Harry sighed.

"Ah, yes, that was my doing. I informed the staff that your magical core had not healed after the events of the tournament and that you were suffering from extreme magical exhaustion."

"Okay, but why are all my classmates treating me like I'm dying?"

"That one was not my fault," Dumbledore laughed, "The children saw Cedric carrying you from the quidditch pitch and they put two and two together after my announcement this morning. No, this is simply the work of the rumor mill."

"I've been managing fine on my own, honestly," Harry groaned. "It's really not as bad as everyone else is treating it."

"I beg to differ, Harry. That day in the forest, your magical core was almost completely destroyed," Dumbledore said. "But from what I can see," he continued as he gave his wand a wave around Harry, "the forbidden forest mended it. You simply lack the magical reserves to use magic normally. Think of your core as a small engine. Every living being has one, even muggles. Magical folk are gifted with the connection necessary to harness the magical energy within them. The core generates enough energy to keep you alive and the excess surrounding it is what magical folk use to cast spells. At the moment, although you still possess the gift of using your magical core, it is only producing enough energy to keep you alive. So the solution here is to essentially exercise your core until it is strong again, sort of like exercising a muscle." Dumbledore's explanation was methodical and dry, much different than the riddles the old Dumbledore used to speak in.

"How would I exercise my core, Professor?" Harry asked. "Casting anything seems to make me winded." Dumbledore held up his hand and a glowing orb appeared there, a small floating Lumos.

"There are many ways to do it, but a sustained spell like this Lumos here is the most useful. The idea is to sustain the spell until you can't anymore, very slowly pushing your magical core to its limit, and then allowing it to recover. Lumos is a good starting point." The orb floating in his hands grew in size until it was the size of a basketball and shrank again. "I want you to grow the spell until you feel uncomfortable and then hold it there for as long as you can. When you can no longer sustain the spell, reel it back in and rest, then repeat the process. This is going to be slow and a little painful, but it's much more effective than waiting for it to regrow."

Harry cast a small Lumos like the one in Dumbledore's hands and mimicked his movements, allowing the orb to grow until he grew uncomfortable, a familiar burning sensation traveling through his limbs. He breathed hard with exertion. He only managed to grow it to the size of a softball. He held onto it for a few minutes, but needed to shrink it back down hastily.

"That's perfectly fine, Harry. It's a good start. Don't release the spell and try it again. Breathe." Dumbledore said, voice gentle and encouraging. Harry repeated the exercise three more times. On the last repetition, the spell flickered and died despite his best efforts to maintain it. Harry breathed hard, leaning back onto his hands as he caught his breath.

"I didn't think it would be this bad," he groaned. Dumbledore laughed and helped Harry up.

"I told you this would be difficult. Come here, you need to eat after that. I know you just had lunch, but you can use every meal you can get." He snapped his fingers and more food appeared on his desk. He watched Harry eat and allowed him to go to his next class.

This routine continued for the next few weeks, during which the professors continued to prohibit him from casting spells in class. Even McGonagall looked at him dourly over her glasses and said, "Oh, you don't need to do that. You've performed that spell in front of me so many times. Go sit in my office and have Dobby bring you tea." When Harry asked Snape if he could at least brew a potion in class, Snape laughed at him. Although the Defense meetings continued, the prefects forced him to rest and allow Cedric to teach the class instead. Harry took to astral projecting whenever he was forced to rest, just to keep himself occupied. Every time he entered the astral plane, Mentor would appear before him.

"Well, your magical core is indeed recovering," she said one day as Harry was supposed to be resting after another session with Dumbledore. "Your headmaster is using a firm hand with you. That is good. Keep doing that."

"I'm not made of glass!" Harry said, floating around aimlessly through the castle walls.

"Hm, well if no one forced you to rest, you were never going to," Mentor said unsympathetically. "I'm not helping you, little one. Now go back to your body and get some real rest before I force you to go back in." Harry huffed and did as he was told. Harry woke just before dinner and stretched luxuriously as exited the common room. He almost didn't see Susan Bones, who had been waiting by the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry to bother you, I just- do you have some time to talk about something?'

"Sure, Susan, what do you need?" Harry asked, blinking sleepily at her.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Harry. It's my aunt, Madam Bones. She hasn't responded to my letters in weeks. I heard Umbridge threatened you and, well, did she say anything about my aunt?"

"I'm so sorry Susan, she didn't say anything about Madam Bones. Do you think she might be in danger?"

Susan deflated a bit, looking forlorn. "Oh I don't know, Harry. She might just be busy, but it's just been so long." She looked up at Harry's face, smiling despite clearly being distraught. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have bothered you. I know you're unwell, so please don't think anything of it. I can talk to the headmaster about it later. Let's go to dinner then? You must be starving." They walked together to the Great Hall. Waves of anxiety rolled off of her the whole way. Harry resolved to go exploring in the ministry that night.

Harry passed through the dark walls of the Ministry of Magic, shivering as he passed through ancient halls filled with the residual energies of many souls that had passed through there. It was clear that many had left their mark on the building and led vibrant lives making rounds in these ancient halls. Although it was the dead of night, the building was full of people burning the midnight oil.

The first thing Harry saw as he emerged into the largest chamber was a hideous fountain, a gross depiction of the fallacy of wizarding superiority. He grimaced and itched to vanish the whole thing out of spite, but knew he could do nothing as a spirit. He turned his attention away from it. Harry decided to start at the bottom of the Ministry and work his way up. He passed through rooms full of ministry records and others full of work desks where a few clerks were still bent over ledgers scribbling figures with their quills. Throughout the halls, maintenance staff were hard at work fixing and cleaning so that the building was sparkling for the next morning. Harry gradually made his way down into the courtrooms, remembering vaguely where they were from Lupin's trial in his third year. The courtrooms and judicial chambers were emptier than the rest of the building and, finding no sign of Madam Bones there, Harry moved to level 9. He emerged in a dusty room full of glowing orbs filled with shimmering, swirling memories. The hall of prophecies, though interesting, was devoid of people. Harry briefly wondered whether his own prophecy was there, but decided against opening that particular can of worms. He had other things to worry about. The next rooms were strange places filled with things like scale models of planets and vats of love potion. These rooms were again much emptier than the upper floors and Harry could find no signs of Madam Bones. He was, however, drawn to the largest room on the floor, a large, rectangular room with many rows of steps surrounding a dais upon which sat a stone arch. The air in the room was stagnant and cold and Harry observed an otherworldly black curtain fluttering in the arch. At the curtain's edges, Harry glimpsed a familiar sight.

"Is that what I think it is?" Harry asked.

Yes, young one, Legion responded. It is the deepest part of the astral plane where our true form resides, where all living things go when their time on this earth is over.

"Why is it here?" Harry asked, horrified that it was just there in the physical plane. He could feel the intoxicating presence of something pulling him closer to the curtain, but he remained where he stood. He knew full well that he would be trapped forever if he even so much as touched the curtain while he was away from his body. It was not yet time for him to join Legion there.

This is a gap in the boundary between the physical plane and the astral plane. It is something of a gateway where many souls cross into the astral plane. It is as old as we are and there are many such gaps in different parts of the world. At the beginning of time, we placed this veil here to prevent the living from looking upon the astral plane. The sight of it would have driven them mad.

"Really? I don't see any souls here."

That is because space and time do not exist there. The gap allows the souls passage there, but they do not have to be here to pass through it. Without this gap, no souls would pass through to us at all, like air trapped in a bottle when it is submerged under water. What you see before you is simply the form it took and the space it chose in the physical plane, where it could not be in more than one place like it is in the astral plane.

"I don't get it, but I don't think I want to get it," Harry said, finally turning his back on the veil.

Fret not, young one. The veil has existed without incident for millenia. Unless it fails, you have no reason to worry.

Harry moved his way up another floor, relieved to be away from the veil. His search was fruitless for the next seven floors, with no sign of Madame Bones. By the second floor, he was beginning to lose hope of finding her and wondered if he just missed something. Just as he was going to give up, however, he heard a commotion and a strangled wail. Harry rushed to see what was happening and passed through the wall nearest to the sound. To his horror, Harry found none other than Dolohov and several other death eaters holding Arthur Weasley hostage. Two of Dolohov's goons held Arthur by his arms as Dolohov struck him in the face with his cane.

"You shouldn't have put your nose where it didn't belong, Weasley," Dolohov spat, redirecting his blows to Arthur's abdomen. Harry winced as he heard bones cracking.

"Finish him, lads," Dolohov said, panting as he straightened his collar. The two goons began strangling Arthur. Thinking quickly, Harry tore the souls of both goons very roughly away from their bodies, forcing them deep into the astral plane. They dropped dead in a tangled heap on the floor. Arthur crawled away hastily from Dolohov, who instead turned to level his gaze at Harry. As he met Dolohov's eyes, Harry flinched. Dolohov's face had changed and he was looking straight at Harry, who should have remained invisible to the living.

"Oh. It's you," Dolohov said with a smile, his voice replaced with the familiar, deep drawl of Death. "I should have killed you back when I had the chance." Harry turned to flee, but Death emerged from Dolohov's body and grabbed Harry's soul by the hair. Death slammed Harry onto the ground and pressed their ghostly thumbs painfully into Harry's scar. His scar burned with a searing pain as Death wormed their way into Harry's mind.

"This is a cursed mark, an open window into your mind, fool child. It was I who ensured that you would always bear this mark. It was an insurance policy in case you ever became unruly." Harry, uncomprehending, screamed and clawed at Death's iron grip on his soul.

"You see, I am the only one who can truly understand you, Harry. You have been alone all this time because of who you are and your power. We are so much alike. If only you could see the potential. We could rule the world, Harry. Stop anyone from ever leaving us again, surround ourselves with friends." Death's words wriggled through Harry's mind, harshly drowning out all other thoughts. Harry felt like he was under water, on the verge of agreeing with everything Death said just to make the pain stop. Suddenly, the pressure was gone. Harry looked up and saw Death advancing on Dolohov, whose body had fallen near the other two death eaters. He was on all fours, a wild look in his eye, laughing and attempting to crawl away. Death tisked and strode to Dolohov's side. Seeing his chance, Harry fled, throwing himself into the nearest stream of spiritual energy. With blistering speed, he returned to his body and forced himself awake before his soul had time to readjust to his body. He stumbled noisily out of bed, taking his bedding with him onto the floor. A few of the boys stirred as Harry lurched towards Ron's bed, but did not wake.

"Harry! What's wrong, mate? It's the middle of the night," Ron said rubbing his eyes bearily. When he finally noticed Harry on his knees, gripping his scar, covered in sweat, Ron jumped out of bed.

"We-we have to speak to Dumbledore, Ron," Harry said, rising and grabbing Ron by the wrist. "Come on, I'll tell you there."

"Okay, Harry, okay," Ron said.

"Get Ginny and your brothers. They all need to come too. It's urgent. I'll get Professor McGonagall. Meet me at Dumbledore's office." Harry bolted out of the common room, still in his pajamas, barely noticing that he had no shoes on. He stumbled to McGonagall's quarters and knocked hastily on her door. When she finally opened it, Harry was bent over in pain, still clutching his scar.

"My word! Harry, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Professor, please. You have to come with me to the headmaster's office. I'll explain on the way," Harry gasped. McGonagall stepped into the hall and together they made their way hastily to the headmaster's office. They met the Weasley children at the foot of the statue guarding the entrance.

"Don't ask me how I know," Harry said, "but it's Mr. Weasley. He's been attacked at the ministry. Please, just trust me. He's hurt and he needs help. I swear I'll explain later." McGonagall led the Weasley children up the winding stairs and Harry stopped to catch his breath and trailed behind them. Dumbledore greeted them in his nightgown and ushered the Weasleys into his office. Harry waited in the adjoining room, the adrenaline draining from his limbs. He leaned against the wall just outside the office and slid to the floor. He let his head fall back against the wall and his arms flopped to his sides.

"Yes, Arthur Weasley is unconscious in the Department of Magical Law enforcement," Dumbledore said after conversing with the portrait. "The portraits notified the aurors on duty and he is being transported to St. Mungo's. His injuries were severe, but the aurors made it to him in time and he is going to be fine. The Weasley children should absolutely return to the Burrow and wait for further updates." Hearing his words, relief flooded through Harry and he gave up fighting consciousness.

Harry dreamed of Death's stifling presence pinning him down as they ripped his mind open. Just as Death was about to take his mind over completely in his dream, Harry woke with a start to the sensation of someone gently dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth. He was in the hospital wing in his ward enveloped in warm magic that seemed to cradle him in a loving embrace. The pain in his head was greatly diminished and he no longer felt like he was walking around with an axe stuck in his brain.

"Welcome back," a familiar voice chuckled.

"Tom!" Harry said, sitting up and throwing his arms around him. Tom laughed and returned his embrace.

"I'm here," he said, tracing circles into Harry's back.

"I was so scared, Tom. It was Death-they were possessing Dolohov and the death eaters were about to kill Mr. Weasley." Harry couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as Tom continued to hold him. The fear clung to his mind and consumed his thoughts. The only solace he found was in Tom's strong arms and his familiar scent.

"You're safe with me , Harry," Tom cooed, continuing to trace calming circles into Harry's back. He pulled back from their embrace, looking Harry in the eyes.

"Meditate with me, Harry, like we always do," he said with a soft smile.

"Okay," Harry replied. He closed his eyes and allowed Tom to lead him into a meditative trance, opening his mind to Tom's influence. The calm radiating from Tom's mind soothed Harry's fear and finally eradicated the pain in Harry's scar as if someone had sewn it shut.