A/N: (I seem to be having a fair few of these lately. Heh. Sorry I'll try to cut down on them).

In the chapter 'Three Rough Nights' you will have noticed I made up some dark-magic spells. You will also find the same in this chapter. They are in fact Latin. I don't know/speak/learn Latin but I've been searching and comparing translations so that I could come up with some spells of my own. If you're interested in finding out what my Latin words mean this page is helpful: www.nd.edu/~archives/latgramm.htm. You might be able to figure out what 'Acies Apertum' translates as too.

Chapter 23: The Nightmare

"Harry, I feel – a certain amount of responsibility for you. More than I felt before. When Sirius was found innocent I thought it was the miracle you needed to help you through with life. But alas, I was obviously wrong. And I feel that – because the people you need most have been stolen from you, it is up to me to partially take on the roles of those that have departed. Remus of course, has taken on the same opinion as I have and I cannot think of anyone more compassionate to care for you. Naturally, he cannot be granted guardianship of you – but as long as you both are within Hogwarts, the Ministry need never know."

Harry nodded, biting into a particularly hot pumpkin pasty and spluttering whilst trying not to drop it onto the floor.

"Ah, yes the food is a little hot," Dumbledore said his eyes twinkling.

Harry nodded and swallowed the burning lump painfully. "Yea," he agreed.

"I remember mentioning to you, when you were in my office at the end of last year – that because of the bond you and Voldemort share, you had access to his emotions, if I can call it access – it was more like a hindering connection. A hindrance for you perhaps, but as selfish as this may sound, it is extremely useful – and could be perhaps be the only thing leading to his downfall. You, Harry – you, alone are the one person who can kill him."

Harry nodded slowly and drank some Pumpkin Juice.

"Voldemort can open your mind and find things, learn things ... and use them against you, and against us. I hope I am not asking too much of you, but it would be to our great advantage if you could have a similar reign over his thoughts."

Harry put his drink down. Dumbledore wanted him to enter Voldemort's mind?

"I am not sure what you will find – I don't know how Legilimency works on a mind so distorted and corrupt as his. His mind fled the boundaries of human sanity long ago – but I have faith that you will be able to do this. So I am asking you to take up Occlumency again. And Legilimency."

Harry stared for a second.

"I understand if you wish to refuse."

He shook his head. "No it's – who's going to teach me?"

"Myself and Professor Mysticus."

"Why Professor Mysticus?" he asked confused.

"For the same reasons I wish for you to go to her about your dreams. Have you ever looked into Talia's eyes, Harry?"

Harry was suddenly, for less than a split-second, engulfed, suffocated, blinded by the image of those wide, unfathomable eyes. He nodded and Dumbledore smiled. "Ah. Well then you will know what happens?"

"Er – yes."

Albus smiled slyly and sighed, readying himself to explain. "Talia is an Acies-Apertum. It is a very rare gift. In a way, it is much like Legilimency but far more intricate and powerful. It is not something one can learn. With her eyes she can open up someone's mind, and leave them powerless. She can enter into their soul and understand everything about them. When she looks into someone's eyes their world disappears – their mind is isolated from all outside influences. She can bring someone down to their most innocent and most vulnerable by simply looking at them. To Talia, one's eyes were like windows to everything within them. Only others with the same skill can resist her."

Harry found himself struggling not to choke. Her power sounded extremely invasive – and he suddenly felt amazingly naked. She had looked right into him and he had shown her everything, every thought, every desire. He felt sick.

"Do not worry about her abilities, yes, they are not something to be taken lightly – but Talia does not abuse them. She cannot control her sight – once she has made eye contact with someone their soul is thrown at her ... but she can control what she looks at. She is perfectly capable of reading one's thoughts and accessing one's memories, but she has to do that on purpose." Dumbledore pushed his glasses up his nose. "When she looked into you earlier, all she searched for was confirmation that your dream was genuine. Although you may have felt extremely exposed, please be assured that Talia has no desire to pry into the minds and souls of everyone she meets."

Harry nodded and Dumbeldore smiled.

"In that case then, will you accept my request for you to learn Occlumency and Legilimency – so that you may expose Voldemort's mind for us?"

Harry nodded again, unable to speak.

Then, suddenly, with no idea where on earth the idea could have come from, Harry was suddenly struck with the memory of what Hermione had said to him, months previously.

'Never in 15 years has your scar heated up so much it scorched whatever came into contact with it! Tell Dumbledore!'

Harry was stunned for a second. He barely even remembered the incident – it seemed so trivial and so long ago. But he guessed he should tell him anyway.

"Um, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?" There was a pale orange flow around his fuzzy white hair, reflected from the setting sun outside. Harry knew that what he was about to say would sound extremely out of place, after much time had passed.

"Ages ago – before Christmas – I think it was October – I had a really bad dream. It was awful. And I woke up and my scar was burning, as usual ... except when I took my hand away from my forehead there was a copy of it there. It was indented in my skin and it was hurting like anything – I – I forgot to tell you before."

Dumbledore didn't even look surprised. In fact he looked very serious. "What did you dream?"

Harry cringed. He couldn't explain. The images, the sounds, the cold – the fear ... he couldn't put in to words.

"You could, perhaps, use my pensive?" Albus offered. Harry agreed. He wasn't sure entirely what to do, but had the feeling that he was supposed to think of the memory he wanted to withdraw and simply pull it from his head with his wand. Dumbledore summoned the pensive with his wand and pushed it towards Harry. He touched the tip of his wand to his temple and brought back the memory of his dream – as he pulled his wand away, a silver thread was following it. After glancing at the Headmaster to receive a nod, he gentle placed the memory into the bowl.

"You don't have to come in, if you don't want to."

Harry shook his head, "I'll come. I need to make sure it's the right dream after all."

Dumbledore smiled at his courage and stood up. "Shall we then?" he offered, picking up the bowl and walking around to stand by Harry. Harry shrugged and nodded, then titled his head forwards, dreading what he was about to experience – and disappeared into the shimmering liquid.

Darkness was flapping at him, licking and pulling at him, he was growing colder and dizzier until suddenly he appeared in the Chamber of Secrets, the silence and eeriness chilled him to the bone.

Dumbledore appeared right next to him and looked around. There was nothing except bare walls stretching out into darkness and thin murky sheets of water shimmering on the ground.

For a second, Harry thought he had done something wrong with the pensive until both he and the headmaster received and enormous shock as a high pitched, malicious voice screamed from behind them.

"Do it!"

They both wheeled around to face Voldemort advancing on Harry.

"No!" Harry shouted back.

Both had fuzzy outlines and the walls in the distance rippled as though being seen through water. Harry supposed this was because they were inside a memory of a dream, not a real event. But he had little more time to think when his mind started reeling; it wasn't a pleasant experience having to re-live one of his worst nightmares.

Voldemort grabbed him by the arm yanking him forwards. The long skeletal fingers burnt at Harry's flesh. He tried to wrench his arm free and run but his feet slipped on the oily floor sending his legs flying from beneath him. Voldemort's face was glaring down him, his fist still clutching Harry's arm.

"Kill them!" he spat.

Harry shook his head trying desperately to return to a standing position. "I'm not like you!"

Voldemort laughed, a high reverberating laugh, echoing around the chamber. "Don't be noble Potter. Kill them!" he threw Harry forwards his body slamming onto the cold floor, an icy puddle of water stinging his face. Blinking his eyes open, he found himself face to face with the pale, staring face of his Mother.

Stomach overturning, he spluttered a yell and scrambled up. His Dad was lying right next to her, his lifeless arm draped across her unmoving body – and his cold eyes staring at him, just like hers.

He took a step backwards and fell over another pair of legs. Unable to stop himself, he turned a saw the face. Sirius's face – eyes wide open with shock and his mouth gaping in silent plea.

Voldemort laughed again. "I killed them! I had no mercy! I didn't care! I don't care! Your Mother, your Father, your dear Padfoot! Won't you avenge them? Can't you find it in yourself to kill your enemies? They're there! Waiting! Kill them!" he screeched his arm pointing madly at the row of cloaked, wandless and defenceless Death eaters behind him.

Harry shook his head, "I won't go as low as you!"

Voldemort threw his head back. "If you can't kill them there's no way you can kill me!" he screeched, his eyes flickering and his grin snarling.

Harry stood, fighting an inner battle with himself. "I will kill you – I will kill you if it's the last thing I ever do," he whispered.

"Then prove it. Kill my Death Eaters," and with that, Voldemort handed Harry his wand. Harry hadn't even noticed he had lost it. Shivering, but glaring with determination, he strode past Voldemort, to the first Death Eater. Staring at him from the hood was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. Fury he had rarely known before, boiled up inside of him, tearing at his insides, thrashing in every inch of him, blistering in his fingertips, rising like a wave until he was nearly blind with the sheer anger boiling him from the inside.

Voldemort spoke from behind him. "Are you going to use the Unforgivable my boy? Or something ... more painful? You could make her bleed to death you know. One small word 'Cruor', would do it," he hissed. "Or you could burn her from inside out. All that would take would be 'Ardeo'. You could make her vomit until she had nothing left to throw up, even. Convomo. Ever so tempting isn't it Harry? You can just feel the hatred suffocating you, can't you? Don't fight it. Kill her. Make it hurt. It'll be fun – I promise you."

Harry's spine was tickling. He could picture it. Bellatrix writhing in pain... burning, choking, screaming, bleeding – until she died. Heaven knows she deserved it.

"Do it!" Voldemort whispered.

Harry raised his wand, with such ferocity raging through him and flung his arm forward, wand pointing directly at her throat and yelled "Cruor!"

Dark red light flashed, lighting the sinister walls up with a bloody glow and her eyes bulged. She tried to scream but simply gagged. A tiny bead of red appeared at the edge of her lip and she coughed, spraying thick red blood all over him. He stepped back, the wrath still feeding his hatred - watching her struggle.

Voldemort was laughing. "Well done, my boy, well done!" His face split into a maniac smile and his red eyes widened. Bellatrix choked again and blood started streaming from her nose. She threw her head back in agony, her red hair flying everywhere. Red hair? But she has black hair! He thought wildly.

Stumbling forwards she grabbed Harry's cloak, her heavily lidded eyes fading into gentle, soft and beautiful ones. Blinking she looked up at Harry her dazzling green irises sparkling eerily.

"Mum!" he choked.

She opened her mouth to speak but more blood spilled and her eyes flittered from her son to Voldemort.

"Mum! Mum, I'm sorry I – I – he tricked me – I didn't - Mum!"

In the background Voldemort was screeching in laughter. Lily closed her eyes, struggling to breathe. Harry felt tears prickling at his eyelids as his Mum slid to his feet.

"You killed her!" Voldemort yelled from behind him. Harry whirled around pointing his shaking wand at him. "Avada Ked-" but Harry stopped as the man before him became the same shivering texture of the air around them... and then slowly faded into Ginny, then Madam Rosmerta. His breath stung as he struggled to remind himself that this was still Voldemort. He gripped his wand tighter, "Avada-"but his voice disappeared once more as the person he was threatening to kill resembled Hermione, then James, then Molly, then Lupin. His wand fell from his grip and the next thing he knew, his knees were slamming into the ground, his Mum's feeble hand reaching for his face and the laughter off Voldemort ringing in his ears. "You will one day be a murderer Potter – and there's nothing you can do about it!" he spat.

Harry felt a hand pull firmly at his shoulder and then he was sucked back into darkness. When they both emerged again, in Dumbledore's office, the light was blinding.

Harry was shaking and Albus guided him back to his seat, where he sat, his legs unable to hold is weight any longer. On the surface of the pensieve, Voldemort's face was floating and Harry heard his snake-like voice echoing in his mind.

"You will one day be a murderer Potter – and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Dumbledore sat back down on his chair and Harry glanced up. The sun was now almost entirely gone from behind the horizon, leaving only a thin crimson line and a red glow to cast an eerie light into the office.

"I wish you had told me about this before, Harry. No doubt it has been eating you up."

Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry," he said, surprising Harry enough to make him look up again. "I'm so very sorry. You're shouldering a burden that no-one your age would be able to bear. No-one twice your age should have to endure what you are destined to. But the Prophecy had been spoken – and – I don't think this will do anything to comfort you, but ... what he told you is true."

Harry's eyes grew wide, "I'm not going to kill any-one!"

Albus bowed his head. "Again, I am sorry. It must be hard for you, 16 years old, to imagine that. But you-"

"I'm not going to hurt a person! I won't kill anyone! I can't!"

"No, Harry. You won't harm anyone innocent. I am foolish enough to hope that, when the time comes, you will only have to kill one person – if at all he can be called a person."

Harry slumped back into his chair thinking deeply. Albus did not interrupt him.

"I really ... h-hate Bellatrix," he said, his voice shuddering as he used the word 'hate' for is true meaning. "I hate her so much! Sometimes I want to make her hurt – make her scream – make her beg for forgiveness – make her yell she's sorry. But then, I always feel guilty. And then I get so angry at myself for pitying her! She's a Death Eater and I feel SORRY for her! I can't hurt her! Not even in my mind!" he looked up into the Headmaster's eyes, searching for some sort of reassurance. "I hate her – and I know I should want to kill her after what she did to Neville ... and Sirius but I – I can't."

Dumbledore shook his head and looked at him with such amazement and pride, Harry found himself frowning in confusion.

"Harry that's not wrong," he said smiling and shaking his head. "Last year I told you that your heart was your strongest weapon against Voldemort, that your compassion was the only thing that kept you alive – and you've just shown me that I was more that right. I had expected you to show some pity to people like Severus - but Bellatrix? You amaze me. Sometimes I wonder if you're really 16 at all."

Harry felt the heat rising in his face.

"Now – I do believe it's getting quite late and is also appears that both of us have forgotten our meals. If you wish I can ask the house-elves to bring you another?

Harry shook his head. He wasn't hungry – it would be impossible to eat now.

"Alright then. Well, Goodnight and Thank You very much for your chat."

"Goodnight Professor."