The darkness was fading. Harry could see light behind his eyelids. He strained to open them. There was a soft muffle of voices in the distance. He tried to call out to them. His mind stung in a rude backlash at his actions.

"I think he's waking up!" a shrill voice called.

There was a loud shuffle. Harry attempted to open his eyes once more. He blinked as the world welcomed him. He let a groan escape from his throat, as the memories of Voldemort's eyes flashed before him.

"Harry?" a small voice asked feebly.

Harry knew the voice. A sense of calmness passed over him, and he struggled to sit up. A pair of hands grasped his arms and aided him. He moved his eyes to the pale hands that still rested against his arms.

"Harry?" the voice cried urgently, "Say something, are you alright?"

Harry looked up and stared into bright green eyes. His eyes shifted and he noticed a haze of red. Was this his mother? As he peered into them he noticed his own reflection. He was pale, and his glasses were absent. Why was she here?

He groped at the table beside him, for his glasses. Once he found them, he placed them on his face. Ginny stared down at him.

"Harry please," another voice pleaded.

Harry shifted his eyes and noticed Hermione sitting across from him on another bed. Where was he? He took in the room around him, and realized he was in the hospital.

"I'm fine," he croaked, sitting up further, "I'm hungry."

"Already took care of that mate," Came Ron's voice.

Harry grinned, and rumpled his hair as he'd seen his father do in Snape's pensive. Ron stepped foreword holding a tray,

"Dobby showed up a little while ago, with breakfast for all of us, we've been here for a few hours," he explained as Harry took the tray from him.

Harry remembered there was a time when he had loathed the small house-elf, but now there were times when Harry loved him with all his heart.

"Harry," Ginny began again, "What happened last night?"

Harry moved his eyes back to her as he swallowed some porridge. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing down at him with utmost concern. He let his eyes close softly. She must think it was her fault. She must think it was the conversation they'd had that had caused him to go berserk. He realized now, that all of his friends were staring at him like the time bomb he was. They all thought he was crazy. Harry couldn't blame them; no normal people had spasms like he did.

"Ginny," Harry began, not wanting to remember Voldemort's terrible voice that rested in his head,

'You don't care for her do you Potter?'

Harry gasped. That was it. Now he understood. Voldemort realized the way to get to Harry was through those he cared for. Like...Hermione, and Ron. But what if Voldemort found out how Harry felt about Ginny? He would kill her, and it would be Harry's fault. It would be his entire fault, like Sirius. There was only one thing to do.

"Leave," he muttered, putting his porridge bowl down on the bed side table where his glasses had been.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tensely.

"Leave, please," Harry begged, not meeting her eyes.

"But Harry," Ron began.

"Just leave!" Harry said sternly, becoming angry.

Didn't they understand? Didn't they get it? He was dangerous. He closed his eyes and waited to hear their footsteps leave him alone in the hospital wing.

When the last steps echoed back at him, Harry opened his eyes. Ginny was still in front of him.

"Ginny, you have to leave," He warned.

"Harry," she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Harry knew they'd been close over the summer, and the sight of her tears was making him feel sick. Ginny was reminding him of Cho. He didn't need another Cho.

"Please tell me what's wrong," Ginny sniffed, "You can't just forget I'm your friend."

"Ginny, you don't understand," Harry explained trying to remain calm.

"I would if you would just tell me!" She snapped at him, "You act like you're all misunderstood all the time, but we all really care about you, and we're worried."

"That's the big game isn't it?" Harry snapped, "Find out what's wrong with Harry! Let's get into Harry's mind, because he knows when Voldemort is going to kill somebody! Hope that Harry doesn't blow up and have another spasm because then we all know we're in trouble!"

"Don't yell at me!" she retorted, "It's not like that at all, I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Well it may be news to you Gin, but I'm not alright, I never have been, I never will be," Harry explained, throwing a dark look her way.

"If you just sat down and sorted things out maybe you'd be alright," Ginny said softly, looking reproachful.

"I'd be alright if I didn't have a mass murderer in my thoughts all the time, I'd be alright if I had a mother and a father, I'd be fine if I wasn't Harry Potter!"

"Well you are so deal with it!" Ginny shouted.

"You think its easy being me?" Harry asked.

"I don't think its easy at all, but you are who you are, and you were born to do what you have to, you can't dwell on it Harry, if you want to be happy you've got to let it go!"

"Get out," he muttered laying back down in his bed.

"Harry!" she protested.

"Leave!"

He closed his eyes, and regretted their whole conversation when he heard her stomp away. There were just some things she would never understand and as much as he cared about her, as much as it hurt him, he had to push her away.

Ginny rubbed her face with the back of her hand. It was almost lunch time. The morning periods had gone so slow, not to mention it had been spent with the Slytherins. She'd been in a state of disarray the whole morning thanks to the infamous Harry Potter. He'd been playing with her mind ever since she'd heard of him. At first it had just been a school girl crush, he was famous and cute. But now, now that she knew of him, his life, and was his friend it had changed. It was something that was always in the back of her mind, while she read text books, wrote essays, talked to Dean, you name it, she was always thinking of Harry. She couldn't believe the yelling match they'd had in the hospital; she was supposed to be his friend. She cared about him, she was sure he knew that, and yet he acted as though she didn't care. He was so screwed up sometimes.

When the bell finally rang, Ginny was the first to leave the classroom, ignoring the chants that were raised by a few Slytherins. She practically ran to the Great Hall, hoping that Harry was out of the hospital wing so that she could reconcile with him. She craned her neck as she made her way to the Great Hall's entrance. She found only Hermione, Ron and a crimson Neville sitting at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. She pushed through the crowd of people standing by the doorway, racing to sit with her friends. She needed to talk to them about Harry's odd behavior. Somebody grabbed at her wrist and spun her around. Dean Thomas's cologne filled her nostrils.

"Hey beautiful," Dean whispered in her ear.

"I really don't have time for this right now Dean," Ginny said impatiently.

"What do you mean you don't have time?" He asked, outraged.

"I need to speak with Hermione," Ginny explained, "I'll catch up with you later okay?"

She pulled away from him, but he held onto her wrist.

"You heard about the Hogsmede trip?" he questioned.

"Umm..."

"This weekend, we should meet at the Hogshead, get a drink, and then maybe head up past the Shrieking Shack to one of those nice caves and-"

"Yea sure whatever," Ginny cried, still watching the Gryffindor table for any signs of Harry.

"Ginny," Dean said uncertainly.

"Yes, that's nice Dean," Ginny replied absent mindedly, "Look, I've really got to speak to Hermione,"

With that she dashed away, falling into the seat beside Neville, Harry's seat.

"Hey," Hermione said as she sat down.

Ginny examined her expression. She was smiling, her cheeks were flushed, but her brown eyes had turned a cloudy grey.

"He still hasn't written you?" Ginny whispered leaning closer pretending to reach across the table for the pepper shaker.

Hermione shook her head.

"Listen you guys," Ginny whispered poking Ron in the ribs. He had his head turned and was staring at the Ravenclaw table. Many times before Ginny had seen Harry do the same thing. It annoyed her.

"Ron!" she hissed, he turned around to face her, his ears turning red.

"What?" He asked, rubbing his side where she'd poked him.

"What were you staring at?" Ginny asked, and watched as Hermione rolled her eyes, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh, um, nothing, what do you want?" Ron asked.

Ginny decided not to press the matter.

"Look," she said getting straight to the point, "When you two left the hospital this morning, I stayed behind. I don't know if you two realized, but Harry and I were, well are, really good friends, ever since the summer, when...well you know...whatever it was that happened between you two, "Ginny paused feeling a small amount of tension rise between the two across from her, "But anyway I figured maybe he would tell me what was up, or something, but instead he yelled at me. He told me to go away. Hermione, didn't he say the same thing to you last night?"

She nodded,

"Well I am really worried about him, I know something is wrong but he won't tell me. I mean it's not everyday that he turns me, let alone his best friends away."

Hermione seemed to have come back to the world, her hazy grey eyes had turned to their normal intelligent colour, and Ron, had stopped shoving his face full of sandwich, which was always a good sign. Neville was staring at her intently, and she realized he'd been listening. But she didn't mind, he was one of them.

"Maybe he's being possessed by You-Know-Who!" Ron suggested, taking a rather large bite of his sandwich.

Hermione snickered,

"No, that's not it, I'm pretty sure Ginny would know if he was,"

The three of them looked at her expectantly.

"He's not being possessed," Ginny told them.

"See Ron," Hermione shot him a look, "Look you guys, it's not like Harry has ever been open with his feelings, so maybe something is really up this time. Do you think we should talk to Dumbledore?"

"I'd give it a day or two first, I know that Harry isn't exactly pleased with him," Ginny told them quietly.

"I'll head to the library tonight and look up his symptoms and see if there are any weird spells, or anything," Hermione replied, looking pleased with her self.

Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes, there were times when even books couldn't give you answers. That was the trouble with Hermione, she always thought what books said were right. It wasn't that way at all. Harry had already proved that he was different from the rest of the world...Ginny paused at this thought, but was interrupted when Neville piped up.

"I'll come with you Hermione; I have some work to do anyways,"

"Okay then," Hermione replied, "Oh Ron, would you put your eyes back in your head?"

Padma Patil had just walked by him, with a goofy grin and her skirt pulled up rather high. She paused a little ways away,

"Are we still on for tonight Ronnie?" she called, with an abnormally sweet voice.

Ginny watched, feeling slightly sick as Ron nodded sheepishly.

Padma answered him with a false giggle and than joined a group of loud girls.

Hermione drained her juice, slammed it on the table , and then gathered her books.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, as Hermione stood up, and shouldered her book bag.

"The Owlery," Hermione muttered.

"Well I will see you in class," Ron said reaching for her unfinished sandwich.

"Right," Hermione said through clenched teeth as she walked away.

Neville quickly ate the last bit of his sandwich before racing after her, calling to her, saying he had to deliver a letter to his Gran.

Ginny looked at Ron for only a moment before standing up with a sigh. She shook her head when he looked up at her.

"What?" he asked.

"Never mind, I'm going for a walk, see you later," Ginny told him, and with that she left the Great Hall.

Harry was lost in his world of white. This world of white could only be found in Madam Pompfrey's infirmary. The patron worshipped the colour and every time that Harry had a stay in the hospital he discovered yet another shade. There were white curtains, white bed sheets, spreads, basins, pots, bottles, cauldrons, even Madam Pompfrey's wand had beautiful white splotches etched into the cherry wood.

"Harry dear," Madam Pompfrey prompted as she re-fluffed some white pillows at a nearby bed, "The Headmaster wishes to see you in a few minutes, do me a favor and drink up that last bit of potion before you get dressed."

She dropped the pillows back on the flat bed, and walked over to him, briskly pouring out some potion into a goblet and then hastily pulling the white hanging around him.

Harry let out a sigh, grabbing his goblet. As he watched the liquid swirl and hiss in his cup, he thought about Dumbledore. What did he want - a report on Voldemort's whereabouts? Even if Harry knew he wasn't about to tell him. He knew he was the big weapon that good and evil where fighting over, but he hated being it. He hated being the object of everyone's attention. He hated being him. Harry downed the potion without even the slightest grimace. He quickly pulled on his robes, and bid Madam Pompfrey goodbye.

On his way to the Headmaster's office, he found himself wondering towards the old trophy room. Ron had had to clean each trophy without magic three years prior. Harry smiled to himself. The Chamber of Secrets flashed before his eyes, he remembered the sorting hat, saving Ginny. He paused, and in the dusty reflection of a trophy, watched as his smile faded. Sirius had had many detentions in this room as well. These decrepit walls knew of Harry's Godfather, perhaps even his mother and father. He walked slowly along the shelf of trophies letting his fingers run over them idly. He came to a large, dusty trophy. As he peered closer, he found what he was looking for. A small inscription on the dirty silver read his father's name. Harry stared at it for what seemed to be ages.

"There you are Harry," Dumbledore's aged voice called, "I was beginning to worry about you,"

Harry lifted his fingers from the dirty trophy and turned to face the old Headmaster.

"I am perfectly fine," Harry told him narrowing his eyes.

"It's rather dusty in here don't you think?" Dumbledore asked with a faint smile, "Shall we proceed to my office?"

Did he always have to smile? Harry thought as he dragged his feet behind Dumbledore. His green eyes focused on the back of Dumbledore's swirling robes. He was almost transfixed by the constant movement, the folds of fabric. A high-pitched cackle erupted in his mind. His scar stung.

Even though his eyes smarted, while his forehead stung, Harry could see the Gargoyle that dictated the entrance to Dumbledore's Office in the distance. It was no time before Harry arrived in the office he loved and loathed at the same time. Dumbledore shut the door pleasantly before taking a seat. Harry was trapped, again. Numerous silver instruments littered the tables, and the walls were covered with books and pictures of old Headmasters. The last time Harry had been in this office, Sirius had just died. Harry had thrown objects, and yelled and screamed his lungs out. Dumbledore had sat there calmly. Anger grew in Harry. How could Dumbledore always remain calm? It was an idiotic calmness that drove Harry insane.

"Please Harry, you make me nervous while you stand so stiff like that," Dumbledore chuckled, "Sit down,"

The chair in front of Dumbledore's desk slid back, so that Harry could sit down.

"You are probably wondering why you are here," Dumbledore began.

But Harry knew. He shook his head rudely.

"I don't know where Voldemort is," he said dully, "And I can't explain what happened to me last night, sorry."

Harry watched as Dumbledore folded his hands in the calmest of ways, before smiling at him.

"Actually I brought you hear to tell you that I've decided we should recommence your Occulmency lessons," Dumbledore told him.

Harry stared at him. More time with Snape? More time to hear Snape ridicule his parents, and Sirius. He frowned.

"There's no need to get upset, I've decided to teach you," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry stared at him closely. Wasn't he too dangerous? Didn't Dumbledore want to detach his feelings for Harry?

"Why you?" Harry muttered.

"Harry," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "I thought you would be pleased to have me as your teacher."

"No why have you decided to teach me?" Harry asked, standing up, "I thought you didn't want to be close to me? I thought you only want to use me when you need to?"

"Harry that is not the case," Dumbledore replied with a grave sigh, "Last term, I was worried that Voldemort would use you spy on me, and I knew that I cared about you too much to let anything happen, so I refrained from seeing you, even looking at you. And I already told you that I was wrong. It was foolish of me Harry it was."

"When do the lessons begin?" Harry asked, looking away from him.

"This week? Every Tuesday?" Dumbledore shrugged, "I've already confronted Ms. Johnson and she reckons that won't interfere with your Quidditch practice."

Harry felt a grin forming on his face. He'd forgotten about Quidditch.

"That is unless you are quitting that team, but I figured after your ban, you'd be excited to get back on the pitch,"

"I am!" Harry cried, smiling at Dumbledore.

"Good, well Harry, it suppose its best you head down to dinner, I heard that the Elves are making quite a feast tonight."

Harry stood up and retreated to the door.

"Are you going to Hogsmede this weekend," Dumbledore called from his desk, just as Harry's hand grasped the doorknob.

"I didn't realize that there was a trip this weekend, but yea I'm sure I am," Harry commented.

"Well, while you're there, would you mind grabbing me a few more Sherbet Lemons? My stash is rather low." Dumbledore asked.

"Sure thing, See you on Tuesday, Professor,"