I just want to thank Yas for forcing me to write this. Here's chapter three, review it if you want. You don't have to, if you don't like it.

Chapter Two:

The holidays were over, which meant Harry quickly fell back into a steady rhythm with his classes, quidditch and visiting Albus. Albus was too busy to see Harry, so he spent more and more time with his friends and playing quidditch. However, Albus was never far from Harry's thoughts, and even closer in his dreams.

The dreams Harry had been having about the younger Albus had been becoming more frequent as the days passed. Harry would dream of all the things he and Albus could possibly do. The thing that was disturbing Harry's quite pleasant dreams was the dark shadow that seemed to linger just out of view in the dreams. It worried Harry, because each night the shadow seemed to become more powerful, or closer.

It had been one of the nights Harry was due to visit Albus. He had been half way up the stairs to Albus' office when he remembered that their night had been cancelled, something about an important matter popping up suddenly. He was just about turn around and leave, when he heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan of pleasure. Stopping in his place, he listened closely, hoping that he had imagined it. His hopes were shattered when he heard the distinct voice of Albus.

"Dolores," the older man moaned. Making up his mind, Harry opened the door, only to reveal Albus with his mouth firmly glued to that of Dolores Umbridge. The thing that hurt Harry most was that it had to be a woman, and not just any woman, it was the stupid bitch Umbridge. The same one who tried, and damn near succeeded, to ruin Harry's life the previous year.

Harry stood, eyes transfixed on the one man he had loved passionately kissing the woman he hated. When Albus noticed Harry, he quickly stood, trying vainly to swipe the lipstick off his face. Umbridge just stood next to Albus with a smug smirk on her toad-like face.

"Harry, to what do I owe the pleasure? Dolores was just leaving, weren't you?" he all but asked. Not getting the point, or deciding it would be more fun to stay, she answered,

"Actually, Albus, I just got here." She smiled nastily at Harry who turned and stalked out of the office. He decided that if it had been anyone but Umbridge, he would have forgiven him, but how could he?

Harry stormed, robes billowing behind him in a very Snape-like fashion, to a small room deep in the dank dungeons. He had found the room on one of his adventures that year. The room had a piano, several rather large bookshelves, a bed and a closet. The walls were painted in a strong blue with black trimmings. The ceiling was enchanted much the same way as the Great Hall. He had found a small inscription on the wall near the floor in an elegant flowing script. It was written it what looked to be early Celtic, but Harry wasn't sure.

Harry made his way to one of the bookshelves and took out a book, placing it on the music stand; he then sat on the seat at the piano. He had found that it calmed his nerves to play the piano. He found that he had a talent for it; it seemed to come naturally, from his heart. He started out with strong, angry notes, but by the end, they were sorrowful and full of anguish. As he played, he thought of how messed up his life was. Since his sixteenth birthday, he had shot up to about six foot tall. His hair had grown longer, and was starting to behave better. His features had become more defined, but he put that down to lack of food at the Dursley's.

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Severus Snape was making his rounds of the dungeons, looking out for troublemakers, when he heard what sounded like a piano playing. Wandering towards the enchanting sound, he found himself in front of a door. The puzzling thing was, the door had never been there before. The music was definitely coming from inside. Gathering his courage, he opened the door.