Sorry for the long delay. I don't know that I'll get another chapter up before the Christmas holidays.

Thanks again to all who reviewed.

Glass - Part 4

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Harry woke from another nightmare, his forehead throbbing. It was the first time the two had happened simultaneously. The air in his room was cool, but felt as if his lungs were still full of air that was hot and heavy, noxious with fumes. He coughed and sat up, his lungs aching.

"Nox," he called, and waved his hand. The room looked normal, normal except for...

The globe. It looked as if it was filmed over with a fine gray slime. Harry got out of bed and approached it, reached a hand toward it cautiously.

The air around it throbbed. Harry bit his lip. He'd let this go on too long and now there was some sort of trouble and he didn't know what to do.

Except that he did. Turning he grabbed Ron's shoulder. "Ron. Ron, get Dumbledore. Send him to Snape's dungeons." Then, wand in hand, he dashed out the door, and pelted for the dungeons.

Once outside Snape's door he caught himself on the verge of hesitating, convinced he was about to make an utter fool of himself and spend the rest of the year cleaning cauldrons as a result. But a mist was seeping out from under the door. Quickly Harry cast an air purification bubble around himself, then blasted the door down with one well-placed spell.

The air was worse than it had been in his dream. It dragged at his skin, like the damp scales of some creature better left unmet. Despite the air-purifying charm, his lungs felt tight, as if they couldn't -- or were refusing out self-preservation -- draw the substance all the way in.

Harry fought his way further in, wishing he'd taken the time to place a cleaning charm on his glasses. They were filming over, and it was difficult to see. He remembered, then, to activate his bracelet, hoping it would set off alarms that would bring Dumbledore to the scene. Then he pushed his way forward, searching for Snape in vain until, with a thud, he fell over the man's body.

Harry began dragging Snape back toward the door, then out into the hallway where the fumes had settled on the ground malignantly. They seemed to follow the pair down the hall, reaching out tendrils towards Snape's mouth and nose. Harry took a few precious seconds to create a fan charm that made little headway on blowing the fumes back the way they had come. His own lungs felt tighter, and tighter, his head light from the lack of oxygen.

Behind him, two strong hands grasped his shoulders. A white-faced Dumbledore cried out, "Harry -- what?" but then forsook questions in favor of levitating Snape and speeding him toward the Infirmary.

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Harry awoke, feeling remarkably better. Madame Pomfrey had made him drink several potions the night previously, each nastier than the last. One, he was sure, was to send him firmly to sleep thereby keeping out from underfoot. Snape's usual pallor was tinged greenish-gray. It had looked very... wrong.

But apparently Snape was awake, and feeling much better, by the sound of his acid tones.

"I tell you, Headmaster, I don't *know*." Snape's frustrated voice carried out into the infirmary room in which Harry was ensconced. To Harry's surprise, the headmaster bellowed back.

"It was a brilliant plan, Snape. Simple, brilliant, and damn near deadly. He nearly got you and Harry both in one fell blow."

"Is it my fault that the boy is so foolish as to go rushing in where Aurors fear to tread?" Snape's voice was waspish and Harry winced again.

"That's not the point. The point is..."

"The point is that a trap was set for me on school grounds and you want to know who set it. Believe me, I understand that much."

"For your protection."

"And that of your precious... students."

Harry flinched.

"Severus..."

"I beg your pardon, Headmaster. I withdraw the implication."

There was silence for a moment.

"Severus, you do realize that a student..."

"I don't wish to discuss this any further. I'm quite tired."

"We've examined your rooms. Wormwood infused with dragon's blood and aconite was placed in your fireplace. Probably spelled against burning until the wee hours of the morning, after you'd fallen asleep. Someone had to put it there, Severus. Someone you trust."

Harry's stomach clenched, and he waited for Snape to speak. The usual low tones sounded dead when he finally did.

"As I mentioned, Headmaster, I am very tired. If you would excuse me?"

Harry quickly shut his eyes as he heard heavy footsteps leaving Snape's chamber. The steps continued toward the infirmary ward where he lay, paused, then continued.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

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Gratefully Harry sank into a chair in the Griffindor common room. He'd practically stood on his head to convince Pomfrey that he was okay and wouldn't collapse on the way back to his room.

"So, what happened last night?" Ron asked curiously. Around the room, heads turned to look, then ostentatiously looked away as if uninterested.

"It's a long story," Harry said tiredly.

"Oh." Ron flipped open his History of Magic textbook and began flipping through it.

"When Hermione gets back from wherever she is, I'll tell you both. No sense trying to explain myself twice."

"You sure?" Ron grinned. "You tell me now and I can help you anticipate all Hermione's questions."

"All of them?" Harry and Ron shared a long look, then began laughing.

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"You say from a dream about Snape dying and your scar hurt?"

"Yes." Harry met Hermione's gaze steadily.

"Oh. And Dumbledore said that the wormwood had been hidden in his fireplace."

"By someone whom Snape trusted." Hermione nodded. "Which means a Slytherin."

"Or a staff member. Or a house elf. They can get anywhere," Ron added. "But that's unlikely. Had to be a Slytherin. Probably Draco. He's Snape's little pet."

Harry's jaw clenched.

"There's all of Slytherin to choose from. And don't forget that Snape has an elective class that three Ravenclaws take part in. They come and go from Snape's workroom quite frequently." Hermione paused. "My question is, why now? I mean, what, after all this time, tipped Voldemort off?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably under Hermione's gaze.

"What about those Death Eaters that exploded last summer?" Ron cast an apologetic glance at Harry. "My dad said that Voldemort had to regroup after that. Maybe he just got paranoid. Snape's been working at Hogwart's for years. I'm sure if he really wanted to kill Harry, he probably would have managed it by now. Voldemort probably just figured that out."

"Maybe." Hermione looked unconvinced. "What do you think, Harry?"

"I don't know Hermione." Harry tried to sound bewildered. "It could be what Ron said. Or maybe some other Death Eater figured it out. Or had to put the blame on someone for something that went wrong and blamed Snape. It could be anything."

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But it wasn't anything. It was the crystal. Voldemort had to have been using it to control Snape, or punish him. And Voldemort would have been angry because Death Eaters had died, and realized that the Snape-crystal was gone.

And found someone willing to execute his plan inside Hogwarts-found someone willing to execute Snape.

Meanwhile Dumbledore had lost his best spy, Snape had lost his life and was facing the fact that someone he trusted had tried to kill him. Harry rolled the crystal in his palms meditatively and tried to think what to do.

He couldn't exactly walk up to Snape and tell him. What would the man say? Probably spit in his face. It would look as if... What? That Harry had wanted to control him? To have a hold over him if Snape proved a traitor after all. Or that Harry was a voyeur, a pervert, that he'd been getting his own back for all the humiliations he'd suffered at the Potions Master's hands by prying into the man's affairs, reveling at the amount of pain the Potions Master had suffered during his life.

Harry sighed and tucked the crystal away in his cloak, rose, and headed to the Great Hall for dinner.

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