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I am soooooooo sorry it has been so long. The end of term, and all the teachers wanting the coursework in on the last day, which I had been neglecting because of fanfiction. So BIG apologies to every one, I have returned at last. And her is a nice long chapter just to show you exactly how sorry I am. Thank you for all the reviews! I should be able to get back to regular uploading now.

Katharos

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The chamber was dark. Slit windows set high in the stonewalls allowed thin rafts of sunlight to fall through to the Darkness below. Voldemort was seated on a throne like chair at the very end of the chamber, Nagini curled around his feet. A Death Eater approached him and knelt. He removed his hood to reveal Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah, Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "You came at my call."

"Of course, Master," Lucius replied humbly, but his eyes kept darting around the chamber, often landing on the wand Voldemort played with idly between his long thin fingers. Voldemort smiled coldly, as if he knew something of what was going through Lucius' mind.

"You will take five of the lesser Death Eaters," Voldemort ordered, "And attack Hogsmeade." Lucius' head shot up, staring at him.

"Attack Hogsmeade?!" he exclaimed, "But-"

"Are you questioning my orders, Lucius?" Voldemort inquired, a cold smile on his face. Nagini hissed, sensing her Maser's mood. Lucius swallowed hard.

"No Master," he said shakily. Voldemort smiled with satisfaction and leant back on his throne, regarding Lucius' kneeling form coolly.

"The wizarding world must learn that Albus Dumbledore is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. And what better way to prove that than an attack right under his very nose?" Lucius wisely did not answer the rhetorical question. "But first," Voldemort continued, "I think a little reminder of who is Master here. Crucio." Lucius' screams filled the echoing chamber, reverberating off the stonewalls.

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Harry jerked awake, choking back a scream, his scar throbbing painfully, blotting out the aches left over from the healing spell. He leant forward, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes as he forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. 'Think,' he told himself desperately, 'remember.' Something about Lucius Malfoy, and Hogsmeade… One line drifted up startlingly clear from his memory. "The wizarding world must learn that Albus Dumbledore is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. And what better way to prove that than an attack right under his very nose?" Harry swallowed hard, feeling sick. He pushed back his covers and forced himself to sit on the side of the bed, feet resting on the floor. His heart was still thumping from the dream, but the pain in his scar had lessened slightly. He was Iso/ tired though, his hands trembling with fatigue, the deep seated aches where he had torn into himself in his madness not yet faded.

Focusing, Harry pulled his mind away from the condition his body was in. That didn't matter. He had to tell Dumbledore, before the people in Hogsmeade… Swallowing determinedly, Harry pushed himself to his feet, and then stumbled, steadying himself on the bed as exhaustion rushed through him. Focusing his eyes firmly on the door, on the thought that he Ihad/I to tell Dumbledore about his dream, he staggered towards it. Just as he reached it, though, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office swung open and Madam Pomfrey stepped out. Her eyes landed on Harry and she froze, mouth gaping slightly.

"Harry," she said sharply, striding across to him, eyes snapping. "What are you doing out of bed?" she demanded as she reached him.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said desperately. "Please, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore!"

"You need to be back in bed," Madam Pomfrey said firmly, setting a hand on his shoulder in order to force him to obey her.

"No!" Harry cried, twisting away from her grip. "Please, I need to talk to Dumbledore!" He stared up at her, eyes pleading. Madam Pomfrey hesitated.

"Oh all right," She snapped finally. "But only if you promise to get straight back in bed." Harry nodded quickly, but stopped because it made his head pound. Madam Pomfrey strode over to the fire and pulled some dust out of a pot resting on the mantelpiece. She tossed it into the flames, calling out Professor Dumbledore's name. Harry watched as a dark shape appeared in the fire, revolving faster and faster until Professor Dumbledore was stepping out of the fireplace, calmly brushing some ash of his robes. Harry felt himself grow calmer immediately.

"What is it, Poppy-" Dumbledore began to ask but Harry broke in before he could finish.

"Professor, I-I've had another dream," Dumbledore was at Harry's side as if he had apparated. He stared down at him, blue eyes concerned and piercing.

"What happened?" he asked calmly but urgently. Harry swallowed and tried to steady himself.

"I-it was a hall," he began, "I don't know where, but I think it was underground. V-voldermort was talking to Lucius Malfoy, telling him to take five others and attack Hogsmeade." Dumbledore's face was grim.

"Thank you, Harry," he said quietly. "Poppy, if you could see to him? I must alert the Ministry."

"O-of course, Professor," Madam Pomfrey said shakily. Glancing sideways at her, Harry saw that her face was pale, expression shocked. Dumbledore nodded to them, then turned and swept out. As soon as he was gone, Harry began to shake, exhaustion and pain catching up with him all at once. The sight of him seemed to snap Madam Pomfrey out of his daze and she hurried over to him.

"Come on, Harry," she murmured. "Let's get you back into bed." Harry meekly allowed her to help him, every movement an effort. Once he was back in bed though, he found he was too keyed up to fall asleep. His mind kept racing, trying to imagine what was happening in the village. Madam Pomfrey also seemed to feel the tension. She was bustling about nervously, setting out various potions and bandages and compulsively tidying the infirmary.

A few hours later the doors swung open and a collection of wizards Harry assumed were Aurors limped in, all supporting a variety of cuts and bruises as well as traces of some more unpleasant curses. Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything but sat them all down and singled out the most seriously injured with a calm efficiency that caused Harry to wonder for the first time what her role had been in the fight against Voldemort- and what it would be now.

One of the Aurors, a tall man with black, greying hair lent back against the wall with a groan, holding a bandage to the freely bleeding cut on his chest until Pomfrey could get to him.

"That was a good fight," he commented cheerfully.

"Fortis, I would be obliged if you could leave the male bravado outside," his partner, a small women who looked even tinier next to his large frame snapped. "No fight is a good fight."

"Well this was one if any ever are," another Auror put in. "No innocents hurt, no deaths to our side, we even managed to collect a couple of Death Eaters for the Ministry to question."

The petite woman snorted, waving her hand dismissively. "Young 'uns," she said. "Probably their first blooding. No, who we really needed to get was their leader, and I'm telling you, it was that creep Lucius Malfoy!"

The large man, Fortis, groaned. "Arabella, are you ever going to give up on that?" he asked tiredly. Harry started. Arabella? Arabella Figg, one of the 'Old Crowd?' But Fortis was continuing and Harry went back to listening intently but quietly, if they new he was awake they would probably stop talking and he needed to know what had happened. "That guy is squeaky clean, and you know Fudge is convinced that the sun shines out of Lucius Malfoy's butt, especially after all that ego soothing the man did after Dumbledore washed his hands of Fudge last summer. There is no way in hell you are going to convince him that we would all be better off if Lucius was locked up in Azkaban. You can't even get a search warrant for his house! Not that you and Arthur Weasly both haven't tried."

Arabella glared at him. "Even Fudge couldn't ignore it if Lucius was presented to him after being captured in the presence of other Death Eaters." The third Death Eater sighed.

"Even Fudge would probably manage to fudge that up," he commented. Arabella giggled at that, suddenly sounding quite young though she had to be Harry's parent's generation at least. At that moment Madam Pomfrey hurried over to them, her face lined and tired but she still managed to ask briskly who needed healing.

Fortis waved his hand languidly in the air, "I'm alright," he told her, "Just a little scratch," Arabella glared at him.

"Fortis, let her heal you right now, that Death Eater damned near took a pound of your flesh." She barked.

The huge man quailed under her ferocious glare and Harry didn't blame him. "Yes Arabella," he acquiesced meekly. Madam Pomfrey snorted in derision as she pulled the bandage Fortis had been holding away from the wound, ignoring his gasp and reproachful look as the abrupt motion pulled at the lips of it.

"A 'scratch' indeed," she muttered at the sight of the wound, and then jabbed at with her wand, muttering a spell under her breath and watching with satisfaction as the wound closed neatly up.

"How are you these days, Poppy?" Arabella asked as Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to the series of shallow cuts patterning the small woman's left arm and side. Only when she relaxed as Pomfrey easily healed the injuries left by the curse that had caught her did Harry realise that her face had been taunt with pain.

"I've been good," Madam Pomfrey told her as she turned her attention to the third member of the little group. A frown creased her forehead as she examined the tiny black darts buried into his skin. "I cannot heal this quickly," she told him gently, touching one of the black dots cautiously." The Auror nodded at her, offering a small smile as she set to work.

Arabella smiled appreciatively as she ran a hand along the unblemished skin of her left arm. "You certainly haven't lost your touch at healing," she commented. Madam Pomfrey snorted, keeping her eyes on her work as she gently eased each dart out of the man's skin as she answered.

"All the Quidditch injuries the students manage to accumulate keep me in practice," she said. " I had to regrow all the bones in one boys arm a few years ago. Why the Headmaster doesn't ban such a dangerous sport I really don't know."

Fortis widened his eyes, placing one hand on his chest dramatically. " Ban Quidditch!?" he gasped. "Woman, you speak blasphemy!"

"Oh shut up," Arabella snorted, shoving at him. "I know you went to that last thunderer-warrior game just to watch the fight break out."

"You wound me!" Fortis gasped, clutching at his chest.

"And," Arabella ploughed on relentlessly, "I suspect you had something to do with the disappearance of the referee."

"No that is pure slander!" Fortis said hurriedly. "Anyway, the fool deserved whatever he got, volunteering to be the referee for that game."

Arabella shook her head helplessly. "What am I going to do with him?" she appealed to Madam Pomfrey.

Pomfrey just shook her head, chuckling quietly. "OK, last one," she announced, using her wand to flick the final black dart onto the dish containing the rest, then waved her wand over patients chest, healing the small punctures.

"Thank you," he smiled. She smiled down at him.

"Your welcome," she said and stood up, then promptly wavered on her feet and just caught herself on the bed before falling over.

"Whoa!" Arabella jumped up and helped the healer to sit down on the bed again. "You need rest, healing takes a lot of energy," she admonished her.

"I'm fine," Pomfrey insisted stubbornly, trying to rise. "Now if you'll let me get up I have patients to attend to." Arabella opened her mouth to argue but just then Dumbledore stepped into the infirmary and all conversation ceased, eyes swivelling to him. Harry felt himself relax as he had done earlier just at the sight of him. There was a tear in his robe, which was splattered with blood, but there was a smile on his face and his eyes were twinkling and before he even opened his mouth Harry knew that everything was all right. As Dumbledore informed the room that the captured Death Eaters had been taken to the Ministry for questioning and that wards were being set up around the village to prevent this happening again, Harry was already feeling himself drifting back off to sleep as exhaustion reappeared to claim its due.

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Harry drifted awake slowly, feeling almost reluctant to leave the warm, comfortable place he was in and wake up completely. That was when memories of the previous night drifted into his mind and he sat bolt upright, blinking the sleep from his eyes and groping on the bed side table for his glasses. Slipping them on, he glanced at the source of the soft snores that were drifting through the hospital wing and smiled softly. Madam Pomfrey lay sprawled asleep on one of the hospital beds. Harry smiled, thinking that Arabella must have finally managed to get her to get some sleep. The thought of the petite, fierce Auror made him glance around in search of her or the other Aurors who had come to ward of the Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade. There was no sign of them in the open infirmary, and Harry assumed that those who could must have returned home once they were healed. However, a partition had been put up at the end of the ward, so those who were severely injured must have had to stay the night.

Harry lay back down on the bed, eyes idly searching the walls for a clock. Once he found one though he shot straight back up. Four o'clock in the afternoon?!! Harry slumped back down on the bed, rubbing his eyes. I must have been really tired, he thought. He groaned and shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. If he was truthful with himself, he still felt tired now. Harry hoped that he wouldn't be this bad after every full moon, though remembering how Lupin had looked, he admitted that that was probably a futile hope.

A furtive knock at the door made Harry start and look up- and then grin. Peering around the door was Ron and Hermione, faces cautious. Harry put a finger to his lips and then beckoned them inside. Ron hurried over to the bed as Harry struggled to sit up once more and Hermione carefully closed the door behind her before coming over to join them. Ron grinned but his eyes were concerned.

"How're you feeling?" he asked. Harry sighed.

"I'm fine," he said, then spotted the box Ron was holding. "Is that chocolate frogs?" he asked eagerly. Ron grinned, evidently reassured, and plonked the box down on the bed before helping himself. Hermione tsked reprovingly.

"Ron," she said, "I'm not sure if Harry should be having-"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry said, his voice a bit muffled as it was full of chocolate. "I'm fine." Hermione looked uncertain for a moment, then sighed and gave in, plonking herself down on the bed and helping herself to a frog.

"So what happened?" Ron asked.

Harry phrased his words carefully as he began to tell them. "I had a fever," he said, "So Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion for it, but she wanted me to stay the night. Early this morning I had a dream." Harry went on to quickly detail the dream and then what had happened afterwards. Ron and Hermione's eyes were wide when he had finished.

"So what happened to Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked, nodding to the near comatose figure on the other bed.

"She was exhausted," Harry explained.

"Yes," Hermione nodded in understanding. "Healing takes some of the energy of the person performing it as it essentially speeds up the natural healing of the patient, who afterwards himself or herself will feel tired. Healers learn to ration their strength in order to do the most healing. An untrained person attempting a healing spell will often collapse unconscious, their energy drained from them by the spell."

Harry quickly stifled a grin as he heard Ron murmur; "Thus speaks the walking textbook," Hermione evidently heard him as well for she sent a quick glare his way before ignoring him.

"You didn't miss much anyway," Ron said. "Snape was his usual nasty self today in potions, really on edge. Although," he added, a dreamy expression sliding across his face. "He did take ten points off Malfoy for speculating where you were." Harry forced a laugh. He was pretty sure he knew why Snape was so on edge; he was feeling guilty for what had happened. Harry had noticed that in the past few weeks Snape had become, well, not Inicer/I to the Gryffindors, but he had stopped picking on them, and Harry especially. Harry hadn't been able to stay angry with Snape for long; he knew that Snape couldn't have wanted this to happen to him.

"Hello! Earth to Harry!"

"What?" Harry blinked and Hermione stopped clicking her fingers in front of his face.

"Are you alright? You were miles away then," she asked concernedly.

Harry forced a smile. "I'm alright," he said. "Just a bit tired."

Hermione nodded. "We're leaving now," she said.

"Yeah," Ron said with a grin. "We don't want to wait till Madam Pomfrey wakes up to kick us out." He grimaced and rubbed at his rear end theatrically. Harry laughed tiredly and laid his head back down on his pillow. He hardly had time to hear the door click shut behind his two friends before he drifted back to sleep.

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OK, I never meant for the Aurors, bit to be so long, but I hoped you enjoyed it even though it will have no real relevance to this story. Please review, no flames. (Or only very small ones.) By the way, was Voldemort evil? Or do I have to do some more work on him?