Disclaimer: See chapter one.

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"What is it you would like to tell me Harry?" asked Dumbledore, smiling over top of his glasses.

"My scar started bleeding again. In potions, Snape made-"

"Professor Snape Harry."

"Right, yeah. He made me test Neville's Vision Potion." Dumbledore sat up straighter at these words.

"What did you see that made your scar bleed Harry?"

"Well first I just saw all these pictures, moving too fast to see much detail, but then they started slowing down and I could see stuff. There were death eaters and wizards everywhere, the dark mark, and then there was this really long one. There were hundreds of dementors and death eaters and giants and monsters- I don't even know what they're called. They were all advancing towards another side. There were wizards, I saw you, and me, and there were centaurs and unicorns and other… things. It looked like a war."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment.

"And was that all Harry?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"There was one more." This was the main one he had come to talk to Dumbledore about.

"It was like the ones where I see Voldemort talking, except, this time, it was different. He talked to me."

"He talked to you Harry? Directly to you?"

"Yes. He said- 'Harry Potter, I see you'."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair. Harry had never seen him more serious.

"This is… interesting, to say the least," Dumbledore mused. "And very worrying. If he can talk directly to you he must be getting more powerful."

"Sir, if I can see things he does, does that mean he can see things that I do? I mean, if he can talk to me…"

"I don't know Harry, but this isn't good. I think we will start your Occlumency lessons again, as well as Legilimency. Professor Snape will teach you both."

Great. More work. He already had to put up with Snape in Potions. He was going to be very busy, with Quidditch, and four duelling lessons a week.

"Yes sir," he agreed, resigned.

"I heard that you have become an animagus Harry," said Dumbledore.

"Yes sir. A unicorn."

"Interesting," said Dumbledore. Harry was beginning to think that was the only thing he could say.

"You may go now Harry. I want you too really practice Occlumency Harry. It is very important."

"Yes sir," said Harry, and left to go and see Madam Pomfrey again.

She gave him a small vial of the potion so that he could use it whenever he needed it, and he was very glad for that.

He walked slowly back to the dungeons, wishing the lesson was over. Everyone's eyes followed him as he walked back to his cauldron.

"What happened Harry?" asked Leya. Ron and Hermione leaned forwards to listen.

"I'll tell you later," he said, noticing that Malfoy was listening. The three nodded, accepting that. Harry noticed Snape looking at him with a contemplative look on his face. He noticed that Leya was glaring at her father. For the first time, Harry wondered what their Leya and Snape's relationship was like. He was still having trouble believing that she was his daughter.

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Leya walked into her father's quarters, determined to talk to him.

"Hello dad," she said, pleased to see him.

"Analeya. I didn't expect to see you. It's good to see you," he replied, his voice full of love and concern. This was the man she knew, not the one who she saw in the classroom everyday.

"Dad, I have to ask you a question. I know you don't like Ron and Hermione and Harry, but they're my friends. Could you at least try to be nice to them?"

He looked at her, a obvious war going on in his mind. It would be so hard to be civil to Potter. There was really nothing wrong with Potter, it was just his relationship to his father. Because he himself had been unkind when they first met, Potter had returned the feelings. After the Occlumency lessons with him, Snape had come to respect Potter. He had been through so much, and he could now see that. He sighed.

"Fine. He is very annoying."

"No he isn't dad. He is really very nice. If you just got to know him better."

"I suppose. I will make an effort to be nicer."

"Thankyou dad," said Leya, enveloping him in a hug.

She left much happier and returned to the Gryffindor common room.

"Hi guys," she said, plopping down next to Harry.

"Hey," they replied. They were all busy doing homework and she pulled hers out too. There was silence for a while until Hermione asked Harry what they had all been to afraid too before.

"So Harry, what happened in Potions before?" Harry sighed and leant back.

"I dunno. Snape gave me that potion and I started seeing things. Death eaters, the dark mark. Then I saw thousands of people, dementors, giants, monsters. Then I saw Voldemort. He spoke to me. He said he could see me."

"He said he could see you? He actually spoke to you?" asked Ron, turning white. Harry nodded.

"I can't believe it Harry. That's never happened before," said Hermione.

"What does he look like?" asked Leya. Ron and Hermione looked at her, shocked, but Harry didn't mind the question. No one had ever asked him that question before.

"He looks kind of like a snake I guess. That's the only way to describe it. He has slits for eyes, and they're red. His skin is smooth and dark. It's scary," he said.

"What did it feel like?" she asked softly.

"It's weird. Every time I have one of those dreams, it's like my head is going to burst open it hurts so much. It feels like my scar is on fire. I can't stop the dreams, it's like they just kinda wear off. I hate it." He looked at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to eight.

"I have to go. I've got a lesson with Snape," he said, and stood up. His friends silently watched him go.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he walked through the dungeons. He paused and knocked on Snape's door.

"Enter," Snape yelled. Harry groaned inwardly. He seemed in a particularly bad mood today. He shut the door behind him and stood in the centre of the room where he usually did. Snape came to stand before him.

"Have you been practising Potter?" asked Snape.

"No."

"Why not?"

Harry shrugged.

"You will have to try harder Potter. Ready?" Harry nodded and Snape muttered the spell. Harry cleared his mind as he felt memories start to surface. He blocked his mind from them, and from Snape. He felt stronger than ever before, and with a final effort, pushed Snape out of his mind, but it didn't end there. He started seeing images again, then realised that these were not his own. They were Snape's.

He pulled away, not wanting to see and sank to his knees, blinking. It had taken a lot of effort to do that. Snape looked at him in amazement, the usual sner gone from his face.

"You haven't been practicing? That's very good Potter. I don't know how you managed to enter my mind, but I will ask you not to do it again. There are things there I prefer you didn't see." He went to a cupboard and pulled out a stone bowl, containing a silvery liquid. It was a pensieve. Snape put his wand to his temple and put the resulting hair like sliver in the bowl. He repeated the procedure a number of times, and Harry assumed he was making sure that he revealed no bad memories to Harry.

"Let's try this again shall we Potter," he said, standing in front of Harry again. He repeated the muttered spell and Harry blocked his mind again. Once again he entered Snape's mind and pulled out again.

"I thought I told you not to do that Potter!" shouted Snape, his face white.

"I didn't mean to! I pulled out straight away. I didn't see anything." Snape seemed to calm down.

"Fine. Let's try this again on Monday. You have three days to practice."

Harry took that as a dismissal and left the room, seething. He decided to do a bit of practice to calm his nerves, and went out to the Qiudditch pitch. It was vacant; nobody could practice at night he supposed. He pulled out his wand.

"Accio Firebolt," he muttered. Within seconds his broom was at his side and he climbed on. He tucked his wand back into his robes and kicked off. The win whipped against his skin and as he soared over the grounds he remembered why he loved flying. He scooped low, shooting along a metre above the ground. It was the most exhilarating experience as he flew over the water. He turned around and flew over the castle, its lights beaming through the dark night.  After a while, he returned to the Gryffindor common room. The fire was still burning, but the room was empty. He put his broom away and returned to the common room to finish his homework. He was so involved with it that he didn't notice the other person until they were sitting next to him.

He looked up, startled.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained. "I saw you flying. I could tell it was you because you flew so well." He smiled, glad for the company. He had thought about her while he was flying. She was different to everyone else. Ron and Hermione weren't bad, but they were still different. He took a deep breath.

"Thankyou for what you did before," he said quietly.

"For what?" she asked.

"For asking me how it felt. When I have the dreams. No one's actually asked me how I felt before. They all want to know what happened, and they get concerned at what happened in the dream. No one has ever asked my feelings about it before," he said.

"Oh. That's all right. I mean, people should realise that you have feelings as well." He smiled, grateful.

"Yeah I guess. It must be harder than saying it."

"Because you've been stereotyped as the boy- who- lived, not just Harry?" she asked.

He nodded. She seemed to understand him.

"It must be hard," she stated. He shrugged.

"I get used to it."

"You've been through an awful lot haven't you? I can tell. You seem older than everyone else, like you've seen things you shouldn't have."

"I guess I shouldn't have seen some of the things I have. Not at the age I am. I would never wish for anyone to see what I have. Not even Malfoy." There was silence in the room. It was true. He wouldn't even want Malfoy to go through what he had.

"What's it like being his daughter?" Harry asked her. She shrugged.

"No different to having any other father I guess. He's completely different when it's just us. My mother died when I was three you know. I think that's when he got so bitter. I mean, he used to be like that a little bit, towards people he didn't like much, but after her death it got worse. That's when he stopped being a true death eater. I think he realised that there is more to life than power. Things like love and happiness. He's a good father."

Harry looked at Leya, his respect fro her growing. She had obviously been through a lot too.

He reached for his quill, to start packing up, and was surprise when it flew into his hand. He looked up at Leya in surprise, and she looked just as shocked.

"How did you do that?" she whispered.

"I'm not quite sure."

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A/N: Sorry if this chapter is a bit jumbled, but a lot happened in it. I know some of the stuff isn't clearly explained, but it will be later on.