Harry lay face-up on his hospital bed, thoroughly exhausted after his trip to the dungeons. He never should have given Snape that letter. Never. Now the man would purposefully make his life a living hell until he graduated. Three more years with that wretched man who hated him. Harry felt a very uncharacteristic tear slide down his face. He had expected nothing less of Severus Snape, of course. Actually, he had expected worse. Harry had anticipated being hexed to death after the reading of the letter, really. Not like he would have minded. Death was probably a much better fate than what awaited him every day in potions for the next three years.

Harry groaned, bringing an overly attentive Madame Pomfrey to his side.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry glared at her, which caused her to back away. She soon got back her bearings and leaned over his form on the bed.

"I TOLD you not to go out, Harry. Your strength is completely drained. Now, go to sleep or I'll have to give you one of those sleeping potions that you love so much," teased Madame Pomfrey.

Harry made a face and closed his eyes. Sleeping potions were disgusting. Even if he had to close his eyes and pretend he was asleep for hours on end, it would be better than drinking a sleeping potion. Sometimes, Harry thought that Snape purposefully made the potions so foul because he knew that Harry would be drinking them. Snape.. stupid git of a potions professor. There was no way in hell that he was related to him. His mother was obviously wrong.

He sighed, thinking about everything that had happened to him. It was all happening so quickly. So his real father wasn't even dead. He just hated him. 'Surprise, Harry! You have family! But guess what? They HATE you!' What a very happy summer this was turning out to be. First he gets beaten up, starved mercilessly, rescued (the only bright part of the summer), and then finds out that his most hated professor is actually related to him- is actually his FATHER! Harry considered casting a memory charm on himself. IT would be better than all of this, wouldn't it?

Harry sighed and remembered that he didn't have his wand. He had saved it from Uncle Vernon, thankfully, under the floorboards in his room. But everything else was gone. Burnt. Uncle Vernon had made him burn everything himself- his books, notes, pictures of him and his par- well, of his mom and James- that Hagrid had given him, and finally, his invisibility cloak. Everything went up in flames. It was gone. Everything that he had was gone, And now, his entire identity had been ripped away from him. Who was he, anyway? He was Harry Potter, the boy who lived. The Gryffindor who kept on living. Friend to Hermione and Ron, and the son of Lily Potter. Horrible potions student, the savior of the wizarding world. That was all that he was, and even some of that was bound to be a lie. He wasn't even sure who his family was. He thought he knew, but now he was lost and confused. For a moment, Harry had held a spark of hope- god, he had family! But, no. He hated Snape, and he knew that the man reciprocated his feelings tenfold. Severus Snape had made his life miserable since the first time he had seen him in the Great Hall on that fateful day in first year. He would never have family like he wanted. It just wasn't possible.

Sighing loudly, Harry Potter fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

**

Severus Snape stood outside the school, walking aimlessly around the courtyards. He had lost all track of time, though somewhere in his subconscious mind he had noticed the sky grow darker and darker and the moon rise in the sky. It was late at night now, he knew, but the potions professor wasn't even close to being ready to return to his chambers. Thoughts were flying through his mind. He felt like he was losing control, and that's what he hated most. He HAD to have control. If he didn't find some way to get control, he would go crazy. He knew that. If only he-

"AH!" Severus cried out in pain as he grasped his left arm. The Dark Mark was burning underneath his sleeve. He stumbled into the castle and up to Dumbledore's office. Without preamble, he barged in.

"Severus?" asked Dumbledore, knowing perfectly well what the problem was.

"The mark is burning. I have to go."

"Be safe, Severus. Come back to us."

"I will." And with that, Snape left the room, nearly falling over in pain. He was being summoned.

**

Thirty minutes later, a piercing scream awoke the entire castle. Dumbledore ran out of his room in his nightclothes and followed the screams to the hospital wing. McGonagall, Flitwick, and Filch were right behind him, with Sprout on the way. They ran into the large room to find Madame Pomfrey backing away from Harry's bed, where the child lay yelling, kicking, and screaming, his bedcovers now strewn across the room.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore asked fearfully.

"I don't know.. he's had nightmares before, but none this bad," said the frightened mediwitch.

"Albus! Look at his scar!" shouted McGonagall from behind him. The scar was bright red, the brightest red that anyone had ever seen. Even when the boy's long hair covered it, the scar could still be seen glowing through the masses. For ten minutes, the professors stood dumbstruck across the room, all staring at Harry. Slowly, the screams subsided, and the teenager started shaking like mad. Sweat was billowing from his forehead as he tossed around his cot, and he was mumbling incoherently.

"Poppy, it's Cruciatus," said Dumbledore, now beginning to be frightened. Was there someone else in the room? He noticed Minerva visibly take hold of her wand.

Before Madame Pomfrey had time to get the potion for the after-effects, Potter instantly sat up. His eyes wide with fear, he looked around wildly for a few moments as he tried to grasp where he was. His gaze slowly focused on the professors.

"Dumbledore!" he shouted. "Snape- he's- oh my god, he's.."

Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out.

**

"Albus?" Minerva asked timidly. The man seemed to have gone into some kind of daze, but her words shook him out of it.

"Poppy, check Harry. It's one of his visions again- he hears and feels everything, you know. Professors, come to my office. We need to have a brief discussion," ordered Dumbledore. He turned and stomped out of the room. With a wary glance at the miserable boy now unconscious on the cot before them, the other teachers followed.

A few minutes later, Albus Dumbledore's office was filled with worried professors. The headmaster was pacing around most uncharacteristically. When everyone was assembled, Dumbledore stopped pacing and stood at his full height.

"The first thing you should know is that Harry's scar connects him directly to Voldemort. Whenever he is feeling murderous, or is nearby, the scar begins to burn. Furthermore, when Voldemort kills or goes on a rampage, or when he has death eater meetings, Harry sees it. If he casts Cruciatus on anybody, Harry feels it. That boy had been cursed indirectly more than anyone else in the world. Now, Severus was summoned tonight by Voldemort. If what we just witnessed in the infirmary is any indication at all, Voldemort had just put Severus under Cruciatus for- what was it, Minerva? Ten minutes? That means that he is gaining power rapidly. He's never, ever been able to keep up the curse for that long. Not even before the first time that Harry stopped him could he keep up the curse for ten minutes. Also, Harry seemed to think that Severus was in some kind of trouble. Ten minutes under Cruciatus could leave a man dead. Which, judging by Harry's reaction, is very possible. We'll have to wait and see." Dumbledore looked around him, noticing the pale faces and bleak expressions on each and every teacher's face. He sighed loudly and slumped into his chair.

McGonagall, who seemed to be shivering, said meekly, "Albus, is there anything you want us to do?"

Dumbledore looked over at her sharply. "Minerva, term will be starting in a couple of months. The most that I ask any of you to do it to keep a close watch on your students, when they arrive. Actually, let me be blunt. Keep an eye on the Slytherins. And keep an eye on Harry. But please, please, just take care of them. If there are any injuries, any at all, they're brought to Poppy. Strange behavior? Talk to me. And if any of you, or any of your students, get visions about Voldemort? Immediately come to me. Cornelius Fudge doesn't believe the truth, and he's doing everything he can to make sure that the wizarding world doesn't hear it, either. We're in this alone, everybody. All of us, and our students. Any lesson plans that aren't necessary for battle, forget them. Teach them things they are going to need. Especially the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. We're going to need them."

"But Albus, they're only children!" said Minerva worriedly.

Dumbledore's eyes and tone softened. "I know that, Minerva. I know that, and I hate this. I hate this because their innocence is going to be shattered. But Minerva, everyone, times are going to get worse. And these children, these young witches and wizards, are our only hope. They are the people who will win this war. And look at it this way- if we are attacked, and we haven't prepared the students, they'll be killed. So we must teach them. We have no choice," said Dumbledore softly, but with a finality to his voice.

Minerva was crying, and most of the other professors looked like they were on the verge of tears. All of them were as white as a sheet. Professor Flitwick nodded stonily and walked out of the office. Several others followed. With a final sad look, Professor Sprout left. Finally, only Dumbledore and McGonagall were left in the room.

"I'm sorry, Minerva."

"There's no need to be sorry, Albus. This isn't your fault."

Dumbledore looked up at her sadly. His blue eyes held no twinkle any longer. He looked every bit his age.

"I'll see you in the morning, Albus," said Minerva. He nodded and the witch slowly left the room.

Dumbledore put his head in his hands and did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time- he cried.