Harry ran and ran, his legs pumping faster and faster.  He wouldn't stop, even to check the Marauder's map or to throw on the invisibility cloak.  He just wanted to run from the pain.  He thought that if he were to stop, the pain might be able to catch him, and, at that moment, he felt that that would be more terrible than any punishment he might incur.  So, they had known all along and hadn't seen fit to tell him, even to hint to him. 

                He was enraged more with Hermione than with anyone else.  First, he couldn't understand why she would know something like this about him that no one else except Snape and his father did.  Secondly, he wanted to know why she was given the ability to get in touch with his father, and still hadn't seen fit to tell him of it.  Lastly, he couldn't understand what made her believe that it was up to her to decide what was best for him.  He felt that, being a true friend, she should have come to him with this knowledge right away and let him sort through it for himself.  He was The Boy Who Lived.  He'd been through worse.  Why, then, did he feel as though his world were falling apart?

            Suddenly, he involuntarily stopped, having run full-on into Professor Dumbledore.  "Professor!" he exclaimed, glad it was the headmaster and not Filch.  "I'm sorry, excuse me please."  He moved to head around him, but Dumbledore held up his hand.

            "I'm sorry, Harry.  I'm afraid we shall have to take a trip to my office.  Professor Snape warned me that you were out running in the hallways and needed to be dealt with.  I assumed the offense must be severe, for he saw fit to bypass the authority of both himself and Mr. Filch."

            "He's lying!" growled Harry, now furious.  "They both lie, him and Hermione!"

            Dumbledore looked at the boy benignly.  "Come now, Harry.  It seems to me that Professor Snape was being truthful about your running in the hallways, for you have just plowed into me with the force of a mountain troll.  As forms. Granger's lack of truthfulness, I received no complaints about you from her.  If I had thought about it, I would have assumed she was tucked away in bad, as you should be."

            Harry hadn't even realized they were walking until they reached the spiral staircase that led up to Dumbledore's office.  The headmaster gave the password (Pumpkin Pasty) and they headed upward into his domain. 

            Once inside, Dumbledore conjured up some tea, and motioned for Harry to have a seat.  Though his body and mind were both depleted, Harry could not sit down.  He paced the room, stopping to softly stroke Dumbledore's Phoenix,  Fawkes, before continuing on again.  He thought the pain might catch him if he were to be still.

            Dumbledore sat quietly behind his desk, sipping on a cup of tea and simply watching the boy.  Suddenly, Harry wondered if Dumbledore knew about Snape and his father.  He tried to read the ancient inscrutable face before him, but there was no way to be sure, and certainly no way he could ask.  At last the headmaster cleared his throat.  "Harry, why were you running from Professor Snape?"

            Harry turned to look at Dumbledore, not sure of how to answer, so he tried evading the question.  "Not just Snape, sir.  Hermione was there with him.  Perhaps you should catch her for being out and about late at night as well."

            Dumbledore smiled kindly.  "Never mind Hermione, Harry.  Why were you running from Professor Snape?"

            Harry thought of all he had found out in the past fifteen minutes or so.  "He told me…" suddenly, he cut himself off and stopped, not ready for the truth and covering himself with a half-lie.  "I, I just don't like him, Sir.  He gives me the creeps."

            Dumbledore sighed.  "Harry, that's no reason to run from him.  I am well aware of the fact that the two of you have never gotten along, just as Severus and James never found each other's company amicable.  What happened that made you run."

            Harry knew he could not hide it any longer.  Somehow, too, he knew that Dumbledore already knew the answer.  He was just going to force it out of Harry.  That was his way, after all.  He made you face your fears by bringing them to the forefront and verbalizing them.  Harry had to admit that his tactics often worked to alleviate the gnawing sensations inside of him.  "Sir, Professor Snape told me something I didn't want to hear."

            "What was that, Harry?"

            "He told me that he and my father were brothers."

            Dumbledore looked annoyed.  "He told you that?"

            Harry hung his head in shame.  "No, sir.  Hermione has been acting strange since the beginning of the term.  Ron, Ginny, and I have been worried about her.  Tonight, I knew she was to have another detention with Snape, so I decided to follow her.  I wanted to make sure everything was all right, as the two of them have been acting rather ferociously towards one another lately.  I put on my father's invisibility cloak, and followed Hermione to the dungeon.  I almost didn't make it through the door, but once inside I went to the back of the room where I could hear what was going on without being in the way.  He and Hermione started fighting again.  I waited for him to try and read her mind like he has been doing in class lately, but he didn't.  She just started telling him this story about communicating with my father through a book.  Snape looked upset, and said that he and my father are brothers.  That's when I couldn't take it anymore, and I showed myself.  Then I ran out of the room, and, er, bumped into you."  He stopped for breath for a moment.  "Please, sir, tell me it isn't true."

            "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry, though you were never meant to know, just as James and Severus were never meant to know."

            "What do you mean, Sir?"

            "Harry, James and Severus weren't just brothers, they were twins who had to be separated shortly after their birth due to financial circumstances beyond the control of their parents.  James remained with his birth parents, and Severus went to another family.  The boys were never told of their blood relation, and it was meant to be kept that way.  Only the two sets of parents and I were privy to the information.  During their last year at Hogwarts, there was a terrible accident on the quidditch field involving James.  He nearly died, and could only be saved through a spell performed simultaneously by a healer and a blood family member.  I called upon Severus Snape, and he and I performed the spell together to save James's life.  I would have let it go at that, but Severus was very cleaver, much like Hermione, and knew immediately what spell we were performing.  He demanded to know why he was doing a spell designed for use by family members on James Potter.  I had no choice but to tell him.  When James pulled through, I felt it only fair that he should know too.  Severus never told anyone, and neither did James.  Even Sirius and Lily didn't know.  The knowledge brought a lot of pain and anger to both boys, especially Severus, who became even more hateful of James in the aftermath.  I wish they had never had to know, but things do happen.  It was a massive kismet of sorts, I suppose."

            Harry stared at the headmaster in disbelief.  "Sir, if Snape is my uncle, then why couldn't I have lived with him all of this time?"  Harry really wouldn't want to live with Snape, it was just that anything seemed better than the Dursley's had been.  He wondered if Snape would have been able to learn to tolerate him had they been thrown together from the beginning.

            Dumbledore sighed heavily.  "Because, Harry, putting you in the care of Severus Snape would have been detrimental to the fate of the wizarding world.  Snape had just come to me for help in escaping the Deatheaters short months before your parents' death.  I then persuaded him to play the role of double-agent.  That would be very hard for him to do while caring for the infant who had brought about the downfall of Voldemort."

            "But, sir, if Voldemort was gone, then why couldn't he have taken me?"

            "Again, Harry, you fail to see the point.  I knew Voldemort would one day return to power, though no one wanted to believe me when I said so.  I felt it would be foolish of me to place you in the hands of a former Deatheater, a man in whose hands it would be so much easier for Voldemort to reach you.  If the dark side knew of your relations with Severus Snape, much of what we had gained through his intervention would be lost.  As it is, Severus walks a fine line between holding their trust and exposing his true intentions."

            Harry shook his head.  "Sir, don't you think that my father would have wanted him to take me?"

            Dumbledore looked as though he would rather not answer, but did anyway.  "No, Harry,  do not.  James loved you with all his heart, but he recognized himself in you.  The resemblance between the two of you is uncanny.  It is very hard for someone like me, who was so close to your father, to believe that you have no memories of him.  James didn't want Severus to mistreat you simply because of your resemblance to James.  He would have wanted another to take you, though I must admit you were not exactly welcome where you went.  Things worked out better that way for everyone, Harry, including you.  I feel that it is important that you grew up away from the wizarding world, away from you fame until you were able to deal with the consequences.  Also, the work that Snape does, though you may not enjoy him, is crucial to The Order.  Without Snape, we would have been ill-prepared indeed for the battles we fought last summer."

            Harry sat in the chair, unmoving, letting the weight of Dumbledore's words sink into him.  "Sir," he asked at last, "why did Hermione know and I didn't?  Why wouldn't she tell me?"

            "Harry, Hermione knew because she was forced into it by her own character.  She went up to the room containing the Black Family Tree one day during the summer.  While she was looking at it and trying to piece together all of the scorch marks and holes that had been blasted through, the Tree, somehow, came to life and told her many tales of wizard families through the ages.  She asked it specifically about your family, wanting to have something to tell you that you could cherish.  Instead, she learned that Professor Snape is your uncle.  She didn't want to tell you, because she thought it would bring you pain.  I don't know why the Tree chose to impart this knowledge onto her, but I suppose there must be a reason, though it remains as yet unseen.  Hermione was trying to do what was in your best interests, Harry.  Take that into consideration before you attack her."

            "Sir, I wouldn't…"

            "You haven't had to face her again yet Harry, you don't know what you would or wouldn't do.  All I am saying is that you should always consider the motives, even if you're not keen on the action.  Now, it is late, and I have much to do tomorrow.  I would beg of you to keep this conversation private for the good of all involved, and many who are not involved, but the choices lies in your hands now."  He stood up , signaling to Harry that the audience was over.  "Good night, Mr. Potter.  And do take care to cover yourself with that cloak on your way back.  I think you have rather enough troubles as it is." 

*           *           *

            Ron Weasley was still awake, sitting on the couch next to his sister Ginny when Hermione returned from her meeting with Snape.  They had been unable to round up Harry, and at last Snape had called upon Dumbledore for assistance.  Hermione hoped Dumbledore had been able to intervene before Harry did something ridiculous or harmful to himself.  She had briefly considered making her way to the headmaster's office, and had then thought better of it.  What was going on in there was private.  She wasn't sure how she would face Harry ever again.

            "Hermione!"  Ron jumped off the couch with falsetto waves of enthusiasm radiating from him.  "great to see you back so soon.  How was Snape tonight?"

            Hermione said nothing, trying to think of a suitable answer.  None came to her.

            "Where's Harry?" asked Ginny.

Ron shook his head at his sister, and made a motion as though he were slicing his throat with his finger.  "What Ginny means is did you run into Harry on your way back here?  He was getting worried, and he went out in the corridors to find you."

Hermione knew this was a lie, but was happy for the opening it gave her.  "I found him, all right.  He was sitting in the back of Snape's office, listening to everything Snape and I discussed.  He must have followed me down there and then snuck in wearing his invisibility cloak."

Ron quickly jumped to his friend's defense, "He was just worried about you, Hermione.  You've been acting weird lately, and spending all kinds of time with Snape.  It's just creepy, you know.  He just wanted to make sure Snape wasn't trying to hurt you.  Look, now he's gone and gotten himself in trouble because Snape caught him eavesdropping.  He did it for you, and the only thing you have the heart to do is be angry with him."

"You don't even know what you're talking about, Ron Weasley," Hermione spat.  "Harry should have never come down there.  What goes on between professor Snape and I is none of his business, nor is it any of yours.  If you wanted to know, you could have asked instead of following me like you're my guardians or something."

Ron fumed, "We tried to ask you, but you wouldn't answer.  You acted like everything was fine, but we knew it wasn't because perfect Hermione was falling apart.  She couldn't do her homework right, she failed some of her class assignments, she didn't care about prefect duty, she ignores her cat, her friends, and her needs.  Hermione, you don't eat, you don't sleep, and, I'm sorry, but you look like bloody hell!"

Hermione was so angry she was shaking now.  "Leave me alone, Ron Weasley.  What I do and why I do it is none of your business."

"I'm making it my business, Hermione."

For the first time, Ginny spoke up.  "Someone needs to make it their business, because it's obvious that Hermione won't."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, now turning her anger on the other girl.

"I mean that you don't seem to care about anything anymore.  I just want to help you, Hermione.  Please, tell us what's wrong so we can help you.  If you share your pain, it makes it easier to deal with.  Look, we all saw things we wish we hadn't seen last summer.  Please let us work through this with you.  We just want to help you."

Hermione could feel her rage ebbing away as Ginny took her hand and led her to the couch.  "Ron, Ginny, I'm sorry," she said.  "Please forgive me."

"Sure thing," said Ron, smiling once again.  "Now, what's the problem.  What's that great slimy git Snape done to you?"

Hermione sighed.  "Snape didn't do anything to me, Ron, he just doesn't appreciate me knowing something I found out over the summer, and he's intent on my keeping it a secret."

"What's the secret, Hermione," asked Ginny.  "You can trust us, you know you can.  We kept all the secrets for The Order, you know."

"You're right," said Hermione, "and I knew I could trust you all along, it was just that Harry shouldn't have known.  That was the only reason I kept it from you.  Please try to understand."  With that she launched into the story of the family Tree, Snape and James's brotherhood, and the correspondence she had been sharing with James through the aid of A Wizard's guide to Writing with the Spirit.  When she had finished, she sat back, watching her friend's jaws drop.

"Ohm, Hermione," said Ginny, hugging her friend.  "that's terrible for you to have had to have known that for so long.  I'm so sorry."

"What does Harry think about all of this?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," said Harry, whom the others had not noticed coming through the portrait hole.  He was standing there with a furious expression upon his face, and the others knew he had heard the whole thing.  "after Hermione finishes telling you what she would never tell him, maybe you can ask him."

*           *           *

            Hermione Granger stared as though she had never seen her best friend before in her life.  She wondered how things could have so quickly spiraled out of control.  It seemed like only yesterday her heart had been bursting with the painful secret.  Now, suddenly, it had escaped and she was left with an even greater burden to bear.  She had never wanted Harry to know about the connection between his father and the hated Potions Master.  Even worse was the thought of him having found out in this way.

            "Harry, I didn't see you standing there."  Hermione's nervous grin quickly slid from her face.  She didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.  She thought of her time-turner from her third year, and wished desperately that she could use the device to restore order to the chaos her life had suddenly become.  She knew that altering the past was forbidden, but she felt that her morality would escape unscathed in this case, for surely her redemption would be for the greater good.  Unfortunately, the days of the time turner were gone, and that option was no longer available to her.

            "Oh," he said coldly, raising his eyebrows.  "I suppose if you had you would have kept your secret until a more convenient time.  One in which I wasn't around?"  His voice was devoid of any warmth or heart, and sent a shiver down her spine.  She had never heard such a tone from anyone she loved, and guilt gnawed at her heart, for it had been her actions that had driven him to this callousness.

            "Harry, it was never meant to be like this!  No one was ever supposed to know.  Not you, not Ron, not Ginny.  No one."  She could feel a lump of hysteria in the back of her throat, and she swallowed this bitter medicine down.  Tears collected on her lower eyelids, and she furiously wiped them away, angry at her lack of control.

            "Of course it wasn't.  You wouldn't want to tell me, after all."  His gaze was one such as she had never seen.  His eyes were hard and cold and she could see no trace of the friend she knew within them.  Again, he raised his eyebrows, continuing in that maddening apathetic melody he had adopted since his appearance.  "I couldn't handle, after all.  I'm sure that's what you think.  Been through enough lately, have I?" 

            She could feel the anger rising deep within her, and she bit back her lip to cap off the impending eruption.  She shook slightly, wishing that he would show some emotion for just a moment, that any sliver of feeling would escape his otherwise stoic demeanor, letting her know that he stilled cared for her enough to be angry with her.  There was nothing.

            The silence in the room grew thick and heavy like a blanket.  Ron and Ginny said nothing, just stared as the scene before them played out like a terrible accident.  Ginny was biting at her finger nails as Ron stared intently at a spot on the couch, trying to rub it out with his thumb.  It was apparent that neither wanted to take sides, so there they stayed, fidgeting with nervous discomfort, too ill at ease to walk away. 

            Hermione moved a step closer to her friend, wanting to make some sort of physical contact with him, to create a bond between them.  He did nothing to impede her progress, but still she stopped before ever reaching him, too unnerved to continue.  "Harry," she said, almost pleading.  "I didn't want to hurt you.  Please, believe me."  If she thought begging his forgiveness would have made some measure of difference, she would have, but she knew that such measures would be ineffective.  His exoneration would have to come on its own terms.

            "Hermione, it isn't for you to decide how I should feel and if I should be allowed to feel that way.  I don't care what you meant by what you did, if you were truly my friend, you would have told me right away."  He scowled.  "If I haven't broken by now, I'm not going to."

            She wanted to believe him, and her mind told her to let it go.  He would simmer down and things would be better in the morning.  Not back to normal, of course.  They may never be back to normal, but better.  She couldn't just let it go, though.  She couldn't let him think that he was an island unto himself.  "Harry, everyone has a breaking point," she whispered softly, not quite daring to meet his emerald eyes.

            For a moment, a brief flash of doubt tainted his face, disappearing before she could be totally certain that that was truly the reaction that had transpired.  Still, his voice was not quite so harsh this time, despite his words: "I don't."

            "Believe what you want Harry," Hermione said quietly, too sad and tired now to be angry.  "Just know that I'm here for you if you want to know the truth."

            Harry too looked somewhat deflated, she noticed as she turned from him to trudge up the seemingly interminable flight of stairs which led to her bedchamber.  "If I want the truth," he said to her retreating figure, "I'll just parade about in my invisibility cloak until I overhear it somewhere."  The coldness in his voice no longer had the hard edge to it, she noticed, and she felt just the slightest flutter of hope that perhaps one day things could be okay between them again.

            "Do as you like," she shrugged tiredly, turning the knob to her doorway.  She was too tired to fight, too tired to feel, too tired to care.  She drug her weary body over to her bed, falling upon the comforter still clad in her robes, and hoped that either sleep or death would claim her.

            Unfortunately, neither did.

*           *           *

Harry sat up late in his bed, the curtains drawn around him to block out the outside world.  When they had first settled in for the night, he had heard Ron's whispered attempts to speak with him, but had chosen to ignore them, instead feigning sleep.  He almost laughed to himself that his friend had actually fallen for it.  How could anyone think that he would be able to sleep now, after everything he had just been subjected to?  He wondered if the others realized how many sleepless nights he had endured in his lifetime.

            He didn't know what to think about first, Hermione's deceit, his relationship with Snape, or the book that allowed conversation with his long-dead father.  He tried to think things through one by one, but he found this increasingly difficult, as the different topics began spilling over onto one another, ultimately leading him no where.  Now he breathed deeply, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind like Snape had tried to teach him all last year.  Again, as they always before had, his attempts failed.

            Frustrated, and physically aching with the pain in his heart, he clenched the bed spread between his fingers, trying desperately to find something to cling to as he felt his reality now slipping away.  Hours ago, out in the light he had been able to put on a brave facade and push through this latest challenge in his abstruse life.  Now, alone in the darkness, he could feel his grip on sanity slipping away.

            He fought to hold on, his fingers desperately groping at the crumbling edge of the precipice that was his mind.  He bit his lower lip until it bled, tasting the sharp coppery sensation and wondering why, it seemed, that everything must always happen to him.  He had been amicable to his reality.  Certainty not happy, not sense the death of Sirius, but able to live with what had been placed before him.  The summer had been long and difficult, but once again he had endured.  He was a survivor.  Now, there was this, and he didn't know how much more he could take.

            He remembered how Hermione had just imbued to him that nothing could bend forever without breaking.  He had tried to act flippant and wave away her remark, but he wondered if she had noticed that he hadn't quite been able to pull off the attitude he had been striving for.  She had struck a nerve with him, for, after his chat with Dumbledore, he had been thinking the same thing, though not quite so eloquently as she. 

            He had always heard that what doesn't kill you will serve only to make you stronger.  Time after time he had grown that much stronger, that much harder.  This time, though, was different.  He had finally reached a point where he could take no more.  This was killing him.

            He leaned back against his pillow, not knowing if he should be frustrated, enraged, or dispirited.  He closed his eyes, hoping for the mercy of sleep, but knowing that it would not come.  He thought about the morning, and he shuddered.  He didn't want to face Hermione, and he didn't think that he could face, he gagged at the thought, Uncle Snape.  For uncountable minutes, his mind reeled with pain, things steadily becoming murkier instead of clearer.

            Suddenly, an idea struck him.  Slowly, he pulled the covers away from his body and let his feet light to the floor, careful to avoid the loose and creaking boards all around his bed.  He snuck to his trunk, carefully opening the lid, and removed the invisibility cloak.  For a moment, doubt flashed through his mind, but was quickly overcome by staunch determination as he flipped the cloak over his shoulders.

            It was time to get some answers.

*           *           *

            The corridor was silent, an eerie chill wending its way through the still night air.  Harry breathed softly, careful not to allow his warm breath to condense before him.  Nervously, he glanced again and again at the Marauder's Map he carried with him.  Mentally, he chided himself.  This trip should be no different than the many other time he had illegally found himself wandering the corridors long after curfew.  This time, however, there were extenuating circumstances which bred the anxiety he now harbored in his heart.

            Suddenly, he heard a loud crash coming from the end of the corridor.  Acting from both instinct and experience, he jumped to the side of the passageway, pressing his lean body against the wall so as to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.  He knew that it wouldn't do to get caught simply for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  He concentrated on breathing slowly and quietly, trying not to exist.

            In no time at all, activity abounded in what had moments ago been stony silence.  Filch, the moldering old caretaker tottered his way past Harry, his moth-eaten cat Miss Norris pausing as she neared the boy's feet, turning her lamp like eyes upon him.  Not for the first time, Harry had the sneaking suspicion that invisibility cloaks were ineffective against animals.  Fortunately, Filch was too absorbed in the commotion that had just passed to notice his cat's momentary pause, and without any acknowledgment from her master, the feline continued on in his wake.

            Moments later, Snape leisurely strolled through his door just steps away from Harry.  Harry tried desperately to blank out his mind, afraid that Snape would sense him nearby.  Snape, however, was obviously preoccupied by the disturbance, and continued slowly down the hall, leaving his doorway slightly ajar.  It was now or never, Harry decided, and he silently crept through once he was confident that the Potions Master was absorbed in the latest mischief and havoc created by Peeves, Hogwarts's resident poltergeist.

            Silently thanking the trouble maker for his unintentional services, Harry carefully shut the door all but a crack behind him, willing that the hinges would not creak.  Silently, still covered by his invisibility cloak, he moved through the living quarters of Snape's small apartment, and headed for a door off to the left which he knew must lead to the Potions classroom and Snape's adjacent office.  He had intended to try to break into the area by use of magic, but Peeves had made thing much more convenient for him.

            He found that the door leading to the office was unlocked.  Turning the knob, his heart beat quickened as he moved to step inside.  He hoped it was still there, but knew better than to get his hopes up.  After all, he was uncertain if the pensive he had previously seen in the office was the same one that belonged to Dumbledore, or if it was Snape's personal possession.  Even if it was there, he had to hope that Snape was confident enough in his security to leave memories in it, and did not simply remove them for storage in his own brain during sleep at the end of each day.

            To Harry's immense surprise, the lights were all on in Snape's office when he stepped through the door, and a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth.  For a moment, he was very confused.  Then, the presence of a small green creature started to make things clear. 

            "Dobby," he whispered quietly to the house elf that was busily straightening up around the room, and had obviously failed to notice the opening of the door behind him.  "Dobby," he whispered again, this time sufficiently loud enough to alert the elf's attentions.

            "Dobby is hearing someone speaks, but Dobby sees no one."  The elf looked around, his saucer-like eyes seeming to grow even wider with astonishment.  "Perhaps Dobby is going mad."  A moment passed in silence, then the elf continued.  "Is someone there?"

            Carefully, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak apart where it was overlapping on his face the slightest bit, just enough to let the elf know who it was that he was speaking with.  "Dobby, it's me, Harry."

            Dobby leapt towards him enthusiastically.  Four years ago, Harry had helped to free the eccentric elf from his servitude with the Malfoy family after Dobby had attempted to help save the young wizard's life several time.  Now Dobby regarded the boy as somewhat of a hero.  "Harry Potter!  Dobby did not expect to see you down in the dungeons of Professor Snape tonight.  Dobby must ask, sir what you are doing here."

            "Dobby," said Harry quietly, hoping that his lowered timbre would prompt the elf to match, "I'm looking for a pensive, like the one Professor Dumbledore has in his office.  It's a stone basin that looks as though it is full of silvery material.  People use it to store some of their thoughts and memories in.  Have you seen one in this office?"

            "Harry Potter, sir, Dobby knows what a pensive is.  Dobby has seen a pensive here in this very place, inside that cabinet over there."  Dobby pointed a gnarled green finger excitedly to a giant curio cabinet on the opposite side of the room.  "Would sir like for Dobby to retrieve it?"

            Harry didn't answer; he was already on his way to retrieve the item, wanting to use it before Snape could have a chance to find him here.  Already, he knew that his presence was risky.  Whatever trouble Peeves had caused shouldn't take too much time to sort out.  Quickly he located the basin.  He placed it upon Snape's desk, warning Dobby to be quiet so that Snape wouldn't have any reason to interrupt his actions.  As he leaned forward, he could see that he was in luck. It seemed as though Snape had decided he could better sleep without so many thoughts floating about in his head.  Carefully, Harry leaned forward, drawing nearer and nearer to the scene before him until suddenly he felt a swirling sensation and he was drawn in.