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XIX

XIXIX "Controlling the Dream" XIXIX

Harry passed the rest of the day with Luna at Hogsmeade. They both decided to spend the money they had brought with them on sweets and spell books for Hermione. While she had made it a practice to keep mostly quiet about her relationship with Victor, they had been together for nearly two years, and Harry knew she was going to take this break-up hard.

He and Luna parted ways as they entered the Great Hall for dinner. She gave Harry her gifts for Hermione, and went to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Harry went to the Gryffindor table, feeling uncomfortably warm.

He slid into the seat next to Ron, who was dripping with sweat. Neville and Dean looked similarly overheated.

"Why's it so hot in here?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Dean.

Neville ran his hand through his short hair, which contorted into sweaty spikes sticking out at all angles. "Granted it's still cold outside," he said, "But this heat is unbelievable. I wonder what the house elves are thinking!"

Ron grimaced and looked up at Harry. "Hermione better not have led them in revolution."

"Where is Hermione, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Up in her room," said Ginny, joining the table.

"Is she okay?"

Ginny shook her head. "She's really upset about it. That... that... ooh!" Ginny looked really pissed, trying to come up with the appropriate insult to assign to Victor.

"Upset about what?!" asked Ron, suddenly concerned, his outstretched hand wrapped around a bread roll, frozen midway between the bread basket and his plate.

"Victor broke up with her today," said Harry.

"He—WHAT?!" asked Ron furiously.

"Met someone new," said Ginny with a scowl. "And anyway, the 'long distance thing just isn't vorking out'!" she spat, miming Victor's accent in distaste.

"I'm gonna kill him!" yelled Ron, slamming his fist on the table, bread squeezed in between his knuckles. "Is he still here? I'm gonna KILL HIM!"

Ginny scoffed at her older brother. "I thought you'd be happy about it!"

Ron rounded on her. "HAPPY?! Happy that that bloody, Bulgarian arse—?" His face was beet red and he was shaking, casting about for words through his anger. He threw the thoroughly crushed bread roll on the table, placed his hands on either side of his plate and pushed himself up menacingly, his anger radiating from him. The rest of the table sat back in alarm.

"Nobody. Hurts. Hermione." His voice was cold fury, his eyes blazing. "He didn't deserve her."

He stormed out of the Great Hall.

The table stared after him in stunned silence. They had all seen Ron's temper before, but never like that.

After a few minutes, they slowly began to load up their plates. Harry felt too hot to eat, but Ginny still looked quite angry, and he didn't want her to turn on him after seeing Ron's outburst. Apparently, it WAS true what they say about redheads.

Conversation slowly started back up at the table, but Harry didn't join in. The heat was getting to him. He was thinking back over everything that had happened today, and he felt a little dizzy. After awhile, he began to get the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him. He looked up, and sure enough, a certain blonde Slytherin was glaring at him.

He thought about Malfoy kissing his girlfriend while eyeing Harry, and he felt sick to his stomach. He was about to excuse himself from the table, when he heard Neville say, "Oh yeah!" Harry looked at him.

"Harry, is it true that you were making out with Luna Lovegood at the Three Broomsticks today?" he asked with a friendly, knowing smile.

Ginny dropped her fork with a clatter, and Harry turned red. He hadn't considered that his friends would hear about it; he had only thought about how it would affect Malfoy. He looked up at the Great Hall ceiling, already darkening with the evening sky. It was too hot in there. He had to get out.

"Yeah," he said simply. Then he gathered up Hermione's gifts and headed to the common room.

It was even hotter in Gryffindor Tower. He said "Fawkes" to the portrait of the fat lady and entered the common room to the sight of Ron pacing back and forth at the bottom of the stairway to the girls' dormitories.

Harry regarded him silently, all of Hermione's gifts piled in his arms. Ron noticed him, but kept pacing.

"She won't come down," he said, presumably to Harry, but without looking at him. "She won't come down, and I can't go up there because of that damn spell that turns the stairs into a slide. The walls even get slick, so I can't use them to brace myself. She yelled at me to go away when I called to her. She's not coming down." Ron kept pacing.

"She just needs some time," said Harry sympathetically.

"Time?!" Ron stopped his pacing and looked at him incredulously. He walked straight up to Harry and stared him in the eye. "Harry, she's my best friend." He looked at Harry pleadingly. "I—Harry, I love her." He shook his head and went back to pacing at the bottom of the stairs. "She's not coming down."

Harry stood in the heat for a few minutes, watching Ron pace, muttering about how Hermione wouldn't come downstairs. When a couple of first year girls came back from dinner, Harry grabbed them and asked them to deliver the gifts to Hermione.

Then he left.

XIXIX

Harry didn't care that he was walking alone or that nobody knew where he was. He needed to clear his head, and that certainly wasn't going to happen if he had half the DA following him around.

The castle was too hot, so Harry made his way outside into the brisk February air for a walk around the lake. The cold wind against his face helped him shake his dizziness, but his thoughts were still weighing him down.

What had happened to the trio? Hermione was heartbroken. Ron seemed to have snapped. And Harry was nursing an all-too-dysfunctional crush on his longtime rival.

And what the hell was up with Malfoy anyway? They hate each other for years. Then they're friends. Then they're enemies again, but Malfoy keeps trying to seduce him when no one's looking...

Harry pulled his hair, groaning.

Was there really something between them, or was it just a game? Harry thought about the note he had received yesterday morning.

'haunted by phantom kisses'

He felt the same way. He just couldn't be sure that Malfoy really did as well.

His chest was hurting; his stomach was upset. He shook his head and reprimanded himself. "Merlin, Harry! You're acting like a lovesick puppy!"

He looked up and stopped short. He was almost within reach of the Whomping Willow. He glanced around, a tornado of confused emotions rushing up to meet him.

This is where I was when my hope of living with Sirius died. That's where we were standing when the full moon came out, and Lupin changed, and Wormtail got away. That's where I was standing when the Dementor almost sucked out my soul. That was where I stood when I conjured the Patronus and saved myself from the kiss. Sirius lay there.

"Sirius," Harry whispered out loud. He fought back the tears, and kept walking, knowing where he needed to go.

He settled himself under the beech tree by the lake, still trying to hold it all in. This was going to hurt, but he had to do it.

This is where my father sat. Sirius was there. Lupin was there. Wormtail was there. My mother was over there.

Harry choked.

Snape... Snape was there. My father was playing with a snitch, showing off for my mother. Sirius was bored. Snape was minding his own business.

And Harry replayed it all in his head. He needed an anchor right now. He needed his parents. This memory was the only memory he had that contained all four of his parents—Sirius, Lupin, and James and Lily Potter. This stolen memory.

Harry had seen it all in Snape's pensieve last year. This was Snape's memory of how Harry's fathers had tormented him when they were all students at Hogwarts. Harry replayed it in his head.

James and Sirius taunting the young Severus Snape. Lupin looking the other way. Wormtail egging them on. Lily Evans trying to stand up for Snape, even though Snape called her a mudblood. He recalled how much his mother seemed to hate his father at the time, and watched the memory of her walk away. His father and Sirius redoubled their efforts to publicly humiliate Snape.

Could he have ever done that to Malfoy?

Snape pulled him out of the pensieve, threw Harry across the dungeon classroom, and for the first time, Harry didn't hate him.

Harry was trembling.

This is where my father sat. Lupin was there. My mother was over there. Sirius was—

Sirius.

Harry laid back, shivering in the cold and in the memories.

"Can you still hear me?" he asked. "I could sure use some guidance now."

XIXIX

It was late when Harry finally returned to Gryffindor Tower. He was so cold he was numb all over. He was an absolute mess emotionally. As he had laid out in the cold, reliving hard memories, and exhausting himself in the process, he had actually tried to call Sirius to him. The later it got, the more he believed that he could do it, if he just tried hard enough.

But Sirius never came.

There were only two people in the common room when he made his way through. One was Ron, asleep in a chair next to the stairs to the girls' dormitory. The other was Ginny, asleep in a chair blocking the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

The emotionally beat-up Harry wanted to laugh, except he didn't quite get the humor of the situation. He figured Ron was waiting for Hermione, and no amount of convincing would get him to move until he saw her. Ginny must have been waiting for Ron, worried about her brother. She might go to bed, but regardless, she would have to move before Harry could.

He shook her gently on the shoulder. "Ginny," he said softly. "Ginny, it's late—go to bed."

She stirred a bit, opened her eyes. When she saw Harry, she sat up quickly. Harry stood up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Where have you been? What time is it?" asked Ginny, standing up.

"It's late," said Harry. He leaned over and absently pushed the chair to the side. "Ginny, just go to bed. Ron will be okay."

"Harry!" She sounded tired and exasperated, like she didn't know how much more she could take. Harry looked at her, too much of a mess to wonder how much more of what.

All he could think to do was put his hand on her shoulder as a sign of friendly support. "He'll be okay," he repeated. "Go get some sleep."

Ginny shook her head and then looked at Harry with hard, penetrating eyes. "Harry, I need you to tell me the truth," she said.

Harry just wanted to lie down in his bed. He nodded. "Okay."

"Are you going out with Luna?" she asked, almost angrily.

Harry was shaken by her tone of voice, and was startled by her question. Not knowing how else to answer, he just said, "I don't think so, Ginny."

He turned to go upstairs, but Ginny grabbed his arm and yanked him back around. Her eyes were burning.

"Serious?" she demanded.

Harry saw the anger in her eye, felt the violence with which she had turned him back around. He heard the spiteful way she said his godfather's name, and was too much of a mess right then to understand what was really happening.

Fury welled up within him. He threw his arm up, breaking out of her grasp. He stepped into her face and intoned threateningly, "Don't you EVER talk bad about him. Do you understand?!"

He was shaking again as he turned and walked up the stairs.

Harry pulled out a pair of pajamas, and changed in the dark. Neville was snoring loudly. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that all of his roommates were lying on top of their covers in their underwear. One of the windows was open in an attempt to relieve the indoor heat.

Harry's skin was burning as he began to thaw out. His body was still cold to the touch. He climbed under his blankets and stared up into the darkness. His emotions were whirling fiercely through him, making him feel like his body was actually spinning around in circles.

A hurricane of thoughts slammed their way through him. Malfoy... His father... His mother... Lupin... Sirius...

His face was wet. He was crying. He was sweating. He kicked off his blankets.

He replayed Snape's memory over again.

He pulled off his shirt.

Sirius, where are you?

He was standing by the beech tree on the lakefront. He looked around him, surprised to be there. Hadn't he already gone to bed?

"Harry."

Harry turned around and saw his godfather standing behind him.

"Sirius," he whispered, grief rushing over him. He began to collapse, but Sirius caught him up in a tight embrace.

"Harry, I've missed you," he said. "Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry."

Harry was crying. He could feel Sirius holding him. This wasn't a dream. Sirius was really there. Harry clung to him. "I did it," he whispered. "You're really here."

"Harry, listen to me," said Sirius urgently. "You need to be strong now."

Harry shook his head. He felt like a crumpled piece of parchment. Sirius could be strong for him. Harry no longer had it in him.

Sirius shook him. "No! Harry. Harry, listen to me. I need you to be strong now. Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I had to leave you. I'm sorry that it has to be you, but Harry, it's you. You have to be strong tonight. Everything depends on you being strong tonight."

Harry was holding on, but Sirius was slipping from his grasp. 'No!' thought Harry. 'I can hold on. I have to be strong, and I can hold on.'

But Sirius was fading away. Be strong, Harry.

Snape was kneeling before him. "My Lord," he said.

Harry flicked his wand and Snape was naked, his robes lying on the floor off to the side.

"I expect more from my servants," Harry said coldly.

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

"My other, more faithful servants tell me the Potter boy was out of Hogwarts—alone. Away from Dumbledore, away from his pesky friends! He was completely unprotected save for a nearly dead werewolf!" He was boiling with rage at Snape's failure. He was so close to the boy at Hogwarts, and yet he failed to notify his master of this unique opportunity to have someone rid the world of that blasted boy once and for all!

Harry recognized that he was in Voldemort's head. He could hear his thoughts. If only he could just get a bit deeper...

Rage overcame him. He flicked his wand again and Snape flew up to the ceiling, suspended by magic. He was struggling to keep his features neutral, but Harry could see the fear in his eyes. It pleased him. The wizard was doing no good at Hogwarts. Dumbledore didn't trust him enough to let him know the location of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. He had no idea where they hid the boy when he was away from that bloody school. And he somehow failed to gather the information that the boy would be alone for an entire day!

His fury was so complete he could taste blood. He moved his wand in a slashing motion and Snape's torso ripped open from sternum to groin. His guts spilled out, dropping to the floor. Another flick and they flew apart, hanging themselves about the room—a living decoration.

A white-hot pain burned its way through to Harry, piercing his thoughts. He clawed at his forehead, flailing in his four-poster.

Be strong, Harry.

He forced the pain back down. He needed to get back in. He needed to force his way back in!

He gathered his strength, every last bit of energy he had and pushed himself back into Voldemort's head.

Snape was white. If Harry waited too much longer, the wizard would not survive. Should he even bother raising his wand to save him? Harry mused idly. After all, Snape was protecting the future Death Eaters at Hogwarts so they could complete their magical training. And he was the only one capable of brewing the potion that kept that boy out of his head.

He flicked his wrist several times in quick succession. Snape's intestines gathered themselves back into his body, which sealed itself shut. Snape fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Voldemort stared at him cruelly. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind and kill you," he spat.

Snape crawled across the floor to his robe. "Thank you, my Lord. You are most merciful," he said weakly. He pulled at his robe, covering himself, and still laying down, disapparated.

Harry opened his eyes. "Bugger!" he breathed aloud.

He was trembling, energy and adrenaline rushing through him. His scar hurt, but it was a manageable pain. He blinked.

Snape!

Before he realized he was moving, he had already run through the common room. Ron stirred in his sleep, but did not wake up. Harry pushed his way through the portrait hole, and ran down the tower stairs.

He had made it through a vision. He had been inside Voldemort's head, and he had controlled it. He had pushed the pain down. He had forced himself back in when he had started to wake up!

He ran through the entrance hall and slammed himself against the heavy front door. The cold night air bit into Harry and he realized he was only wearing his pajama bottoms. His bare feet slapped against the walkway down to the Hogwarts Gate.

"Be there," he prayed. He wasn't entirely sure Snape would have enough energy to apparate safely back to Hogwarts. But if he had, he would be at the front gate.

Harry stopped and looked around for the Potions Master, panicking when he didn't see him at first. But then he saw a slight movement in the shadows. He rushed forward and found a pile of Snape lying in the grass.

His breathing was ragged. He looked like he was already dead. His robe was lying on top of him.

"Oh Merlin, Professor!" said Harry, dropping to his knees. He didn't quite know what to do. He was afraid to touch the man.

"Potter!" Snape whispered furiously. "Get back to bed immediately!"

Harry laughed absently. Snape still hated him. That was a good sign. "Can you move?" he asked urgently. He reached under Snape's shoulders to try to help him sit up.

Snape winced in pain, and weakly slapped Harry's hands away. "Don't touch me! Go back to your dormitory immediately," he whispered with authority. His head drooped back down into the grass.

Harry swore. Snape was wasting too much energy trying to keep Harry from helping him. "Professor, I've got to get you to the infirmary. I saw what happened. You've got to let me help you!"

Snape was rolling his head around. "How did you see?" he asked. "I've told you to clear your thoughts before you sleep. I haven't... haven't finished the potion yet." He was beginning to lose consciousness.

"Yeah, Voldemort thinks you have," Harry muttered, and then immediately regretted it. Snape pulled together the last of his energy to glare at Harry with all the hatred he could muster. He couldn't hold out much longer if he kept this up.

"Potter, you get the fuck away from me," he growled. "You will not... speak to your... superiors..." he began to drift again.

They were wasting time.

Harry reached under Snape's shoulders again, pulling him up. Snape struggled against him, but he was fading.

Harry grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly, staring hard into his face. Snape opened his eyes and looked at Harry, hardly focusing.

"Professor," Harry said firmly, speaking slowly and clearly. "You are wasting too much energy fighting me. We can hate each other again tomorrow, but right now, I have got to get you to the infirmary. Do you understand?"

Snape's eyes cleared, and he looked at Harry as though only just recognizing him. He nodded, but said, "Not the infirmary. Get me to my quarters. All my potions are there."

"But—"

"Potter, please."

Harry nodded. He tried to pick up the Potions Master, but even as drained as he was, Snape was still too heavy. Harry reached for his wand, saying, "Mobilicorpus." He barely had an instant to curse himself for leaving his wand in his robe on the floor of his dorm room, when Snape slowly levitated on the magical stretcher Harry had conjured.

"Professor, stay awake," said Harry, leading the levitating Snape inside. He was afraid that if Snape lost consciousness he would never make it back. He seemed to remember some muggle First Aid rule about that.

Snape moaned slightly. His eyes were crossing.

"Severus Snape," said Harry authoritatively, leading him toward the Slytherin dungeons. "What are the ingredients of veritaserum?"

Snape opened his eyes and looked at Harry. He began intoning the names of the ingredients, and then the process by which to create the potion.

Harry led him through the halls, down, down toward the dungeons. It was dark and he hadn't been this way since his second year when they had made the Polyjuice Potion.

"Professor?" he asked. Snape looked at him, his eyes clearer. "Which way, sir?"

"Take the next hall to the right. It's the door at the end."

Harry hurried on.

A stone serpent guarded the door to Snape's quarters. Snape muttered "Wormwood" and it slithered out of the way. The door opened, and Harry led Snape to his bed. He helped the wizard lie down, and pulled the covers over him.

"Where are your potions, sir? What do you need?"

Snape raised his hand weakly to indicate a cabinet across the room. "They're all marked. Blood Replenishing. Heal Magical Wounds. Muscle Relaxing. Pain Numbing."

Harry ran across the room and pulled at the cabinet door. It was locked. "Alohomora," he said impatiently. The door clicked open. He grabbed one vial of each and rushed back to Snape's side.

"Help me sit up," he said. Harry placed the vials on the bedside table, and helped Snape sit up over the side of the bed, leaning against the headboard. Harry handed him the Blood Replenishing potion, but Snape was too weak to lift it to his mouth. Harry reached forward and helped him.

As soon as Snape swallowed the potion, he gagged and then retched, vomiting it all back up. They dropped the vial; it shattered on the stone floor.

"Scourgify," said Harry. The vomit disappeared from Snape's front. "Reparo." The vial pieces rushed back together. Harry picked it up and put in on the bedside table.

Snape looked at him, amazed. "Another," he said. "And a Stomach Settling."

Harry obeyed immediately. Snape drank the Stomach Settling first, and was then able to hold down the Blood Replenishing. When he drank the Heal Magical Wounds potion, he immediately began to tense up. Every muscle in his body seemed to contract at once. Harry had to pour the Muscle Relaxing potion through Snape's clenched teeth, but the effect was immediate. After drinking the Pain Numbing potion, he lay back. His eyes were clear, and he seemed to be regaining his wits.

"The Blood Replenishing is beginning to work," he said.

Harry nodded. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

"Sleep," Snape replied wearily. "It helps the potions work faster. Get me the mild Sleep Draught. It's the light blue among them." Harry looked through the row of Sleep Draughts in the cabinet. "I'll need to wake up in a few hours and take another round of everything," he said. Harry nodded, producing the light blue vial. Snape drank it, and was out before he lowered the vial.

Harry placed the last empty vial on the bedside table and stood up. He was suddenly hit full-force with the night's events. He staggered backward as though a physical weight had slammed into him.

He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. He had been working on automatic pilot during the past hour in his urgency to save the life of Professor Snape.

Professor Snape.

Harry looked at the pale figure lying on the bed. In a flash, the entire vision he had had through Voldemort's eyes replayed itself to Harry. Harry nearly vomited, thinking about Snape's intestines strewn about the room.

He was trembling, reviewing all of Voldemort's thoughts. Snape had successfully lied to Voldemort about so many things in order to protect Harry. Still pacing, Harry began to shake violently as he realized just how much this man did, how much he went through, in order to protect him.

It was coming back to him too sudden, too fast. He felt like he might shatter if he didn't relieve the pressure.

He grabbed a chair and pulled it to the side of the bed, sat down, and stared at the face of the Death Eater Spy for the Order of the Phoenix. It was too much. Harry leaned forward, resting his head on Snape's arm, not realizing that his scar was resting on Snape's Dark Mark—their two symbols of Voldemort's torture colliding.

Harry sat there shaking. And then he was crying. And then he was speaking.

"Professor, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for having been such a prat to you all this time, especially after you rejoined the Order. I'm sorry for calling you names behind your back, and for undermining you whenever I could. I'm sorry we stole the Polyjuice Potion ingredients from you in my second year, when we wanted to find out if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin. I'm sorry for ever disrespecting you, and for every time I didn't do my homework. I'm sorry that I was such a bloody arse when you were trying to teach me Occlumency and that I blamed you for Sirius' death for so long. I'm sorry for every snide comment I ever made. I'm sorry that I looked in your pensieve, and I'm sorry that my father and Sirius were such pricks when you were a student, because I know what that's like. Professor, I've been through that, too. I know you think I was some spoiled, pampered brat, but I lived in a cupboard, for Merlin's sake. Sometimes they wouldn't feed me. And my cousin and his friends beat me up all the time. And they were the bullies at my grammar school so everyone was afraid to be friends with me, so I was picked on all the time. And then there was all this fame for something that I didn't even do—it just happened to me. And I'm sorry for all of this. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop Voldemort's return. And I'm sorry that you had to go back and serve him. I've seen it, Professor, and I'm so sorry you have to go through that. And I'm sorry that I don't understand the prophecy. I'm sorry, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't even know if I'm supposed to live through this. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know...

"But I can't let this continue. I can't let you go through this anymore. I can't let all of this pain continue. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, but I'm ready. Even if I die in the process, I'm ready to accept the prophecy—to own up to whatever fate has in store for me. Just so long as you don't have to experience that ever again. I'll die if I can make it stop, if I can end this once and for all. I'm ready to die if I have to, in order to end this war."

Harry sat there, shaking and crying onto Snape's arm. He meant it all. He didn't like it, but he really was ready to die if that was the only way to rid the world of Voldemort's torture.

Snape's hand was in Harry's messy hair, gently shaking him awake. Harry stirred, realizing he had fallen asleep on his professor's arm. He sat up quickly. "I'm sorry, sir," he said absently. He hadn't meant to let himself fall asleep.

Snape regarded him silently for a long moment, and then simply said, "I know."

Harry held his eye and nodded. "Do you need your potions, sir?"

"Yes."

Harry crossed the room to the cabinet and grabbed another round of everything, including the Stomach Settling potion, just in case. He helped Snape drink them all, except for the Sleep Draught, which Snape held lazily as he lay back down.

"Mr. Potter, you may go back to your dormitory now," he said softly. "And if you are caught out of bed by another faculty member, I would appreciate it if you would accept a detention rather than telling them you were here."

Harry nodded. "Of course, sir."

He opened the door to Professor Snape's quarters.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned back. "Yes sir?"

"Thank you."

XIXIX

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