*pokes everyone because she can* ;) Many thanks to Katarina for pointing out that repetitive phrase. I've fixed it. *g* Oh, by the way, Rachel Hunt sketched Rysk. Copy/paste: http://www.dreamwater.org/jade/Rysk1.jpg

Thank you thank you thank you! *worships all the wonderful artists* Fun black and white style. Hey, Katarina's the only one who's done color; just noticed that. *gives kudos cookies to everyone because she's happy* Sorry...the author is on a total adrenalin high from karate drills. (Sad, isn't it? You should see me after real combat.) Sooo...on with the show!

P.S. Ha, just kidding...in all seriousness, if Harry's confrontation of Snape seemed a little sudden, don't worry...there's a reason. (Kudos to Seal for pointing it out, though.) Okay, seriously...end of very long author's note.
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"Bloody hell," groaned Ron, falling into a chair of the Gryffindor table. Harry stopped and stared at him, letting the rest of his Quidditch class swirl past him.

"Dinner isn't for another few hours, Ron." He tugged his friend's arm impatiently. "Come on, we have to go see Hermione."

"Shut up, you." Ron made a half-hearted swipe at Harry. "Hooch wouldn't have made us do those extra drills if you hadn't been late."

Harry winced but pulled again on Ron's arm, this time more insistently. "Come on, this is important."

"Isn't everything," he muttered, staggering to his feet. "Ohh, my poor legs."

Harry snorted. "'My poor legs'? Ron, you've never seen Angelina at Quidditch practice."

"No, and I don't care to."

"Hurry up, Hermione has a class after this."

"I know." Ron swore as he stumbled around a short first-year, nearly knocking the poor boy off the stairs. "Who knew she would take that damned Advanced Arithmacy?" Harry forced a laugh. He was troubled: something about his confrontation with Snape made him uneasy. Something other than the obvious, of course. He ran up the last few steps as he felt the staircase begin to move. With a groan Ron followed suit, grimacing as he stepped heavily onto the third floor. "Oy, wait up, will you?" he called after Harry, who had sped up considerably.

They arrived at the library with about two minutes to spare before next class. Hermione was waiting impatiently at the door, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the librarian. "Where have you two been?" she demanded in a soft but forceful voice, hands on her hips. "I'm going to be late!"

"Hermione, did you--"

"On that table over there," she replied, waving vaguely into the library. "I've got to go; see you at lunch!" She rushed off with only a quick kiss for Ron, who blushed fiercely. Harry raised his eyebrows after her.

"Not shy about this whole boyfriend business, is she?" Ron glared, and Harry quickly moved out of arm's reach. "Come on...which table did she say?" He was painfully aware of the librarian's sharp eyes on them.

Hermione had left several innocent-looking books on a table in a far corner half-hidden by bookshelves. One particularly thick tome lay open. "Banes of the Dragons," said Ron, reading over the titles. "Medicinal Potions--A Guide to Elixirs, Syrups, and Healing Waters. Hello, what's that?"

It actually took a bit of effort for Harry to lift one side of the huge book Hermione had left open. He bent over to read the title. "Potions: A Complete Collection."

"No, this." Ron reached past Harry and pulled out a slip of paper sandwiched between two pages. "Page six-hundred forty," murmured Ron, "Tell me if we need more research, Hermione." He looked up with a grin. "'More research'. She didn't even leave it open to six-forty; clever, clever."

Harry was already flipping to the right page. "Here." He ran his finger down the list. "Songslight...Sore Elixir...Sotyn's Brew...here!" He dropped his voice. "Soulsbane." Harry hesitated: the book read very much like a dictionary, only without the definitions. "Eh, Ron? I think this book's enchanted."

"Well, try something." Ron flipped Hermione's note over, looking for further instructions. Harry shrugged and tapped the word 'Soulsbane' with his wand. Instantly all the other text vanished, replaced by a picture of a vial containing a deep lavender potion, accompanied by a dry description of its properties.

"The drug Soulsbane has been outlawed throughout the wizarding world, after usage of it resulted in widespread death by overdose and many more cases of severe withdrawal. Similar to Muggle drugs, its effects include a brief period of numbness to the world and to oneself. It was popular with those of guilty conscience..."

"Harry, you want to tell me what's going on?" Ron's hand landed firmly over the passage Harry was reading. He looked up, startled.

"Just some research, is all."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You can't fool me, Harry, you're up to something. What is it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing; just studying for the O.W.L.s."

"All right, keep your secrets!" huffed Ron angrily, turning on his heel and stalking off. Harry swore under his breath.

"Ron, wait...!"

"Forget it, Harry."

Harry caught up and grabbed his friend's arm. Ron glared at him. He glanced about helplessly. "Look, I need your help." Ron crossed his arms and stared at him. With a sigh Harry told him everything: about Soulsbane, about his plan, about Rysk, and about Snape. Pangs of guilt he never thought he'd feel over the greasy-haired Potions master assaulted him.

****

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were gathered in a corner the prefects' bathroom, sitting on the hard floor. Ron's face was still nearly the color of his hair; he continued to glance uneasily at the huge bath and back at Hermione. His girlfriend, however, was all business. Harry tried not to laugh: he could remember a time when Hermione would have fainted at the thought of bringing anyone but a prefect into this room, let alone two boys. It had been her idea, really: she had insisted that the Gryffindor common room was no place to talk of such things.

"Are these all the ingredients you could find?" asked Hermione, chewing thoughtfully on her quill as she scanned the parchment of notes Harry and Ron had made. Harry nodded.

"Those are the only two known ones. The recipe is outlawed...only a few know how to make it."

"Like Snape," commented Ron sourly, shifting against the tiled wall.

"Mmm." Hermione tapped the parchment. "Extract of poppy seed." She looked up. "Opium."

"Yes."

"What's any of this got to do with Rysk snooping in Snape's room?" demanded Ron loudly. "You think she knew the old git was taking it?"

Harry shook his head. "I told you already: she was looking for something, I'm sure of it."

"So what makes you think it was an ingredient of Soulsbane?" said Hermione.

"I...I don't know." Harry shrugged. "It's a hunch."

"Oh, God, how bloody reassuring." Ron was staring fixedly away from the bath now. "I say we just let the bastard drug himself to death."

"He's not taking it anymore."

Hermione looked up sharply, and Harry knew he had made a mistake. "How do you know?"

It was Harry turn to shift uncomfortably, feeling the grid of the tiles grab at his bottom. "I asked him," he said quietly.

There was a moment of silence. "You did what?" burst out Ron. "Are you mad? Did you want detention for the rest of the year?"

"If he's not taking it anymore, and if Rysk's still snooping around, then we'll know it wasn't the Soulsbane; if she still is, then it's something else, get it?" snapped Harry, more sharply than he'd intended. Ron drew back, stung.

"So we're spying on Rysk, now, too? You're crazy, Harry. She'll take our heads off. I'd rather face Snape," he declared.

"Look, she worked with the Order, my parents were in the Order, and I'm going to find out what the hell is going on! Are you helping me or not?!" Harry stopped, suddenly short of breath, surprised at his own vehemence.

"It might not have been the Soulsbane at all," said Hermione softly. She was staring intently at the notes, seeming to have completely ignored their heated words.

"What do you mean?"

"Look here. Extract of poppy seed and lotus root." Hermione's voice became excited. "Lotus root! That's used in every single memory potion there is."

"Memory potions?" Harry scrambled to look over Hermione's shoulder. Ron quickly followed suit.

"Yes." Hermione tapped her finger repeatedly against Harry's untidy scrawl, as though she could conjure up the answer if she did it long and hard enough. "Memory potions. Memory enhancers, counter-memory blocks, things like that. Oh, my goodness..."

"...that's it!" Harry and Hermione spoke within milliseconds of each other. Ron's face was blank.

"What?"

"His headaches!" exclaimed Harry. "The way he stares at her! Is that what happens, when you've got a memory block?"

"I...I...maybe, it could be..." The familiar glint was coming into Hermione's eyes. It was suddenly replaced by an apprehension bordering on fear. "I think," she said finally, "someone used Obliviate on Professor Snape."

****

Snape arranged for Harry to have detention with Filch the next day. Several weeks passed without further incident, although they monitored Rysk and Snape closely. Perhaps not as closely as they would have liked, for the O.W.L. exams were fast approaching, and Hermione was driven into a studying frenzy. Even Ron began to spend his free time reviewing notes and past exams. Fifth-year classes were dominated by review material as the dreaded date drew closer. The events of Christmas break and the night in the Alps faded quickly from Harry's mind, brought to the surface only by disturbed sleep punctuated by nightmares. The terror of what had happened in those mountains seemed a dream, something that had never really happened. Lost in preparing for the O.W.L.s, he even forgot about Percy Weasley. In fact, the only things that seemed to keep the memory of his encounter with the Order of the Phoenix alive were Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry found it extremely disconcerting, being taught by Professor 'Harrison'. She did not pay any more attention to him than she usually did. If anything, she seemed to have become even more cold and sarcastic. However, Snape was another matter: his tongue sharpened to an unbelievable degree, and many a student suffered a verbal lashing (even Malfoy), but at the same time it was obvious to Harry, Ron, and Hermione that the Potions master was shaken. Furthermore, he pointedly avoided Harry's eye, even sacrificing the pleasure of picking on The Boy Who Lived at every turn.

But barring all else, life at Hogwarts seemed to return to normal, disturbed only by a tense undercurrent that Harry tried to ignore, even when he knew that it was only a matter of time before things exploded.

"Hey, Harry?" Rosie Hether's hand landed on his shoulder one Saturday evening after dinner. He started and looked up from his Transfiguration notes.

"Hi, Rosie."

Rosie smiled her usual warm smile, but her voice was hushed and a touch grim. "The Headmaster wants to see you," she said, "McGonagall's waiting outside."

Harry blinked stupidly. "Right now?"

"Right now."

A feeling of unease pricked Harry's skin. He glanced around for Ron or Hermione but could find neither in the common room. Slowly he stood and began walking toward the exit, feeling Rosie's concerned stare on his back. Sure enough, McGonagall was standing by the Fat Lady when he emerged. "Come with me, Potter," she said briskly the moment he stuck his head out. No greeting, no explanation. I should be used to it by now, thought Harry dryly. He trailed behind her to Dumbledore's office, although he hardly needed her guidance. He was so nervous about what they might find on the other side of the door that he didn't even remember to laugh at the password ("Buttered toast!"). McGonagall stepped off of the spiralling stairs and swept right in without knocking.

The Headmaster sat behind his desk, as usual. A wizard in Ministry robes was beside him. Standing in the middle of the room was Percy Weasley, hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders hunched. He started when he saw Harry and quickly looked away, his cheeks flaming red. Even more startling, though, was Ron sitting in a chair to one side. He was staring at his older brother, and his face could not have been more white. He spared Harry only a brief glance.

"Ah, Harry. Thank you, Minerva. Have a seat," said the Headmaster as the door swung shut. McGonagall remained standing, but Harry sat down beside Ron, glancing at the Ministry wizard, who looked strangely familiar. "Harry, this is Mr. Henry from the Ministry." Oh. He was with Ranone that day... Henry nodded curtly, his narrow face strained.

"Sir, what's going on, please?" asked Harry quietly.

Percy fidgeted, flinching away from Ron's steady gaze. Dumbledore came around the desk to put a hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm afraid," he said gently, "that young Mr. Weasley will have to stand trial for his involvement in your kidnapping from this school."

Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him. Henry was watching him intently. His breath caught. "You want me to testify." A sick feeling clenched his stomach. "You want me to testify against him."

Henry spoke up. His voice was as dry and uninteresting as his face. "Mr. Weasley faces the charges of unlawful entry, kidnapping, and the most serious one of aiding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I'm told you saw your attackers before you were stunned."

Harry swallowed. "I did." He looked up sharply. "And I'll testify for Percy. He tried to stop Ranone." He glanced sidelong at Ron, wondering what his friend was doing here. Percy was silent, making no movement other than to adjust his glasses nervously.

"The trial will take place sometime this summer." Henry produced an official-looking parchment and quill from within his robes. "Your signature is required."

Dumbledore passed the document to Harry. He skimmed over it, not quite comprehending the words on the parchment. Confirmation that he was not being intimidated into testifying, something to that effect. From the corner of his eye he saw Henry watching him sourly. Suddenly he looked up. "What's Ron doing here?" he demanded.

There was a silence. "They want me to testify, too," said Ron through clenched teeth, never taking his eyes off of his brother. "But I...didn't...see...anything...good."

In a flash Harry understood. Henry was in Fudge's faction of the Ministry, and Percy's conviction would discredit, maybe even divide, the Weasley family. Ron's dilemma was clear: he wanted to punish his brother for all the pain he had caused, for what he had done, and yet to testify against him would only worsen matters. And with the Ministry split as it was, the jury for Percy's trial would be anything but impartial. Harry looked at Percy: the young man's freckles stood out starkly against a face pale with shame and fear, but his back was straight.

"Don't," hissed Harry. Ron shook his head, his face pale as well, but with rage. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't. With an open glare at Henry, Harry signed his name. The Ministry wizard's eye twitched.

"Well, Mr. Weasley?" he said. For the first time Harry noticed that a parchment identical to his own was lying in Ron's lap. His friend picked the document up slowly. Percy suddenly met his brother's gaze at the rustling sound. For a moment they stared at each other, then Ron viciously tore the parchment to pieces. "Find someone else to threaten!" he screamed at Henry, then ran out of the office.

Harry had shot to his feet. He looked about the room helplessly, confused. As soon as the door slammed McGonagall was upon Henry, her eyes spitting venom. "Get out," she hissed in a voice that would have frightened a small child. Henry stepped back involuntarily. "Get out!"

Still standing in the middle of the room, Percy began to shake.

"Minerva!" snapped Dumbledore with rare sharpness. The Headmistress continued to stare at Henry with murder in her gaze. With a strange, hollow air of satisfaction Henry brushed past the witch and grasped Percy's arm. The older Weasley boy drew away. His lips were pale, now, too.

"Headmaster," said Henry with coldly before leading Percy towards Dumbledore's shelf of instruments. He took the document from Harry as he passed. Once again taking hold of Percy's arm, Henry reached out to touch a thin, forked rod. Harry realized suddenly that he must be using a Portkey.

"Wait!" he cried, "Where are you taking him?"

Henry did not turn around, but Harry could hear the thin smugness in his voice. "He's to be held in Azkaban until the trial."

"What? No!"

But they were already gone.

"Azkaban?" cried Harry, turning to McGonagall, then Dumbledore. "They can't put him in Azkaban! Not with the dementors! Why didn't you stop him?!"

"We can't, Harry," said Dumbledore heavily, sitting wearily down in his chair. "By law, they're allowed to do that. Percy faces charges of aiding Voldemort," McGonagall flinched, "and thus the Ministry is entitled to putting him under maximum security."

Harry's own face had gone white. "He didn't know what he was doing! He didn't meant anything wrong--they can't, they can't put him with the dementors!"

McGonagall looked mad enough to spit fire. Dumbledore only shook his head slowly. "At least you'll testify, Harry, and without Ron, Fudge's faction of the Ministry loses perhaps the only witness that will ensure a ruling in their favor."

"They threatened him. They threatened Ron! That bast--"

"Potter!"

Harry clenched his fists in anger. "It was either testify or put his brother in Azkaban for months, wasn't it? Why didn't you do something?!"

"We can't, Harry." Dumbledore's voice was gentle but strained. His eyes glinted. "Not yet." Behind the Headmaster, Fawkes burst into flames and burned to ashes. After a moment Dumbledore stood. "Professor McGonagall, shall we check on Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. She swept out the door without a word. The Headmaster lingered in the doorway to look back at Harry. "Harry, I hope you won't mind waiting here a while longer--I'd like to have a word." Harry nodded mutely.

And he was left alone in the room. Harry's gaze wandered to the cabinet that stood in one corner of the room. He hesitated, glancing nervously over his shoulder, then quickly ran to the wooden doors before he could change his mind. When he opened them, though, several empty vials clattered to the floor. Harry swore and froze, but no footsteps sounded from outside the office. Letting out a breath, he quickly scanned the shelves until he found what he was looking for.

Desperately hoping that he could pull himself back to reality, Harry leaned over and gazed once again into Albus Dumbledore's pensieve.