DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. All characters belong to JK Rowling – I'm just borrowing them for awhile.

CHAPTER FOUR

Three weeks passed with little event. The Gryffindor vs Slytherin match came and went, with Slytherin securing a triumphant victory. Harry didn't bother to go to the match - he was still too bitter about not being able to play. Hermione went with Seamus, only to trudge back into the common room a couple of hours later with a disappointed frown on her face.

"410 - 90," she told Harry, as she slumped down onto the sofa next to him.

Harry had his astronomy homework open on his lap and he gratefully pushed it aside when Hermione arrived. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't muster any excitement about Venus being in the Third House of Jupiter.

"The smug look on Malfoy's face when he paraded around the stadium waving the snitch, was almost enough to make me hit him!" Hermione frowned and rubbed her eyes.

Harry couldn't suppress a smile, recalling the incident in their third year when Hermione had slapped Draco hard around the face, because he'd been making fun of Hagrid.

"You should've done," he grinned. "The foul little git deserves it."

Hermione managed a half hearted smile, before looking down at the homework Harry had just pushed to one side.

"Haven't you finished that already? I did mine about three days ago. I spoke to Professor Sinistra about some extra texts that are in the library – they really helped me to...."

But she broke off and smiled bashfully, when Harry merely shook his head and grinned at her.

"But I'm sure yours is really good as well," she added, looking at Harry's essay out of the corner of her eye. Harry could tell that she was positively itching to read it and correct any mistakes that Harry might have made and make suggestions about how it might be improved. "I'm not suggesting that you need any help with it or anything."

"Hermione, if you want to read it, just ask, okay?" Harry smiled and stretched his arms out infront of him. "I'm sure you'll find something to correct me on."

Hermione's cheeks flushed a little and she crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt out a little.

"No, like I said, I'm sure it's really good."

"It's awful," Harry replied, collecting the sheets of parchment together and dropping them down onto the floor. "I can't concentrate. It's this whole Quidditch thing. I hate not being able to play."

Hermione nodded sympathetically and tilted her head to one side.

"Perhaps you should try speaking to Professor Snape again. He'll be in a relatively good mood, considering Slytherin have won the match. Besides, he's been a bit better lately, hasn't he?"

Hermione was right. Since the events in his office three and a half weeks ago, Snape had left Harry alone for the most part. He still took great pleasure in removing points from Gryffindor whenever Harry so much as looked at him disrespectfully, but he didn't appear to be going out of his way to make Harry's life miserable.

Harry nodded. "I suppose so."

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "And he did give you top marks for the Carlitus Draft experiment."

Harry gave a snort of bitter laugh. "Only because I was working with Malfoy. He couldn't fail me without failing Malfoy, and lets face it, that's never going to happen. Everybody knows that Snape sucks up to Malfoy like a....a...." Harry strugged to find the right word. "Like one of those sucking plant things that Professor Sprout was talking about last week."

"Ressira," Hermione informed him, a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah, like a Ressira," Harry said glumly, screwing up his nose. "Although, as much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy did deserve top marks. He did seem to know what he was doing."

"So did I, but Snape didn't give Ron and I full marks," she grumbled. "Anyway, that's beside the point. I'm just suggesting that you try speaking to him again. You never know...."

Harry gave a small nod. "Maybe. I'll think about it." But as much as he wanted to be back on the Quidditch team, he wasn't going to beg Snape – he refused to give him the satisfaction. He could just picture the sickening smirk on Snape's pallid face. No. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Just then, the sound of approaching voices echoed in from the corridor outside. It sounded like the students were coming back from the Quidditch match. Harry didn't really feel like being badgered with complaints about him not being able to play, so he quickly jumped to his feet.

"I'm going to go and lie down," he told Hermione, gathering up his school things from the floor. "Tell Ron I'm sorry we lost."

Hermione nodded miserably and watched Harry disappear up the spiral staircase towards the boys dormitories.

*

The pain in Harry's forehead was so intense that he thought his head was going to split in two. The circle of gathered Death Eaters all laughed as he let out another piercing scream of agony. Voldemort kept the curse on him for even longer this time, before lowering his wand and smiling devilishly with that cruel mouth of his.

"Ready to speak now, Harry Potter?" he taunted, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Or do you want more?"

Harry was gasping for breath as he curled up into a ball, bringing his knees close to his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to block out their laughter, which was ringing in his ears. His whole body ached with a pain he'd never felt before.

"Answer!" Voldemort commanded, kicking Harry forcefully in the stomach. "Tell me the identity of Dumbledore's secret keeper."

Harry tried to blink the blood out of his eyes as he looked up. Through the holes in their masks, he could see the eyes of the Death Eaters. They were cold and merciless. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. His lungs burnt with a pain that he never knew was possible.

Voldemort laughed again, the sound chilling Harry's blood. It was the same high, cold laugh that he heard when he remembered his parents' murder. Harry looked helplessly over at Ron, whose beaten and broken body was lying motionless a few feet away. He reached out his hand towards him, his fingertips outstretched, but Ron was out of reach. One of the Death Eaters, Harry wasn't sure which, stamped heavily down on his arm and Harry felt the bones break with a sickening crack.

"Speak!" Voldemort screeched again, his followers cheering loudly as he pointed his wand at Harry for a third time. "Crucio!"

Harry's whole body jerked upwards from the ground, crippling pains searing through his spine. His scream tore through the night.

Then, with a loud gasp, he sat bolt upright in bed, his hand flying to his scar. His breathing was shallow and fast. The blood pounded against his skull as he brought his hands to his face, removed his glasses and pushed his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the terrifying images that still flitted across his mind. Ron, pale and cold, lying dead on the floor next to him – the Death Eaters in their horrific masks – Voldemort's twisted smile and bone chilling laugh.

Harry hadn't meant to fall asleep. He glanced at the small clock on his bedside cabinet – the Chudley Canons one that Ron had bought him for his birthday. It was half past one. Why hadn't anybody woken him up for lunch? His breathing had returned to normal now, although his heart was still pounding faster than usual and his hair was sticking to his forehead with cold sweat. The dream had been so real. He tried to tell himself that it was just a dream, but he couldn't shake off the worry that perhaps it wasn't a normal dream at all – perhaps it was some sort of vision. He'd had things like that before, so who was to say that this 'dream' of his wasn't actually a warning of some kind?

The low murmur of voices drifted up from the common room. Harry swung his feet onto the dormitory floor and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face, which unbeknownst to him, was rather paler than usual.

Should he tell anybody about his dream? Was he just overreacting? He sighed and laid back. He didn't know what to do.

TBC....