***A/N:  I just have a comment concerning the future of this fic:  Yes, OotP has come out, and I hope all of you have read it at least once by now, it's fantastic.  Consequently, this is now an A/U fic, but I don't mind.  I also want you to know that the plot will not change at all because of what was in OotP.  It's helped with small aspects, but the major plot (i.e., characters dying, conflicts, ending) will remain as I planned.  Thanks.***

Chapter 25:  The Unforgivable Curses

            Sirius massaged his brow, walking slowly down the hall.  He-Was-Such-An-Idiot.  Catherine Connelly's face kept swimming in front of his eyelids.  She hadn't started out angry, but he had soon changed that.  He made her so angry she yelled at him.  She never yelled.

            He was surprised they hadn't woken the whole school with their row.  She just didn't understand.  Of course he'd been stupid enough to tell her that; it hadn't made matters any better.  She'd said of course she didn't; he hadn't given her a chance.  That was what she didn't understand; he couldn't give her a chance.

            With a will of their own, his feet took him off to a desolate area of Hogwarts, one he'd visited many times as a student.  A dark, useless hall had always been the best place to be alone.

            "You come down this corridor, too?"

            Sirius spun around to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall.

            "Convenient little hall," he went on.  "All the classrooms are empty, no toilets nearby, and it's a shortcut to nowhere.  Nice, vacant place to think."

            Sirius nodded.  "I came here a few times when I went to Hogwarts."  Then with a smile he added, "Though I used it for a good deal more than just thinking."

            Draco returned the smile.  "You're not the only one."

            Sirius inclined his head with a tilt, raising his eyebrows.  However, he didn't say anything.

            "I don't think, however," Draco said, "that is the reason you came here tonight."

            "Right in one," Sirius said with a sigh, leaning on the wall next to Draco.  "Just had the row of the century and needed some quiet time.  You?"

            "Something along the same lines."

            For a long time, Sirius and Draco just stood in silence, staring at the floor with slight frowns.

            "I just blew up at her," Sirius finally said, running a hand over his face.  "And for no reason.  It's just me; I can be so stupid about these things."

            Draco's eyes were fixed on the ground, and he said, just barely moving his mouth, "I know the feeling."

            Sirius spoke more quietly now.  "She can't understand.  The drop of a hat, and my world ceased to exist.  I had a future, friends, I had someone I loved.  I thought I had someone till death do you part, but that turned into till imprisonment do you part.  It's not easy to forget that."

            "And then you think you have," Draco said slowly.  "You think it's all behind you, but then one instant of doubt brings everything back.  But…really…in the end you have to remember that she is a different person from the first."

            Sirius nodded firmly, his eyes vacant with thought.  "You're right.  You're absolutely right.  It just comes down to taking a chance.  Is being loved worth the risk of being hurt."

            Draco folded his arms, leaning heavily against the wall.  "Is jumping from a cliff worth finding out if you can fly?"

            Sirius let out a great laugh.  "You know," he said, a small glint in his eye, "I've always liked flying."

            Draco forced a smile, something he was definitely not used to doing.  Sirius walked up, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder.

            "You are a wise man, Draco," he said brightly.  "Now get to bed.  I'm sure Filch would be quite pleased to give you a detention."

            Sirius walked off down the hall, but Draco stayed back a while longer.

            "Wise…" he mused with a slight laugh.  "The question is:  do wise men have wings?"

****

            The middle of January seemed to creep upon them like a fog.  Ron was now walking around hand-in-hand with—of all people—Parvati Patil.  Poor Lavender Brown was now seen always trailing a few meters behind her best friend, a lost puppy dog without Parvati at her shoulder.  Hermione was more engrossed than ever in…everything:  she practiced Quidditch in the freezing weather, was actually told by McGonagall to shorten her essays so the professor might read them in one sitting, and Harry could have sworn he saw some underclassmen wearing the long-forgotten S.P.E.W. badges.

            Draco was the only one whose disposition seemed to change.  At first it was definitely not for the better; instead of snapping at anyone who spoke to him, he snapped at anything that showed any indication of being alive, including the moving paintings and suits of armor.  Then suddenly one day, he was all sunshine.  Well, as much like sunshine as Draco Malfoy could be.  When it didn't wear off, Harry was pretty certain it was of the Slytherin's own accord and not due to a Cheering Charm or Sickeningly Sweet Solution or any such magical explanation.

            However this change was brought about, Harry simply decided to accept it and not ask questions.  He had other things to occupy his mind.  N.E.W.T.s were on their way; the teachers knew it, and they were making sure the students knew it.  Harry was having some trouble with the work, and since Ron had become so distinctly chummy with Parvati, he spent many of his nights in the common room working with Hermione.  He couldn't help but look across the room occasionally, however, wishing he had someone to groan over the workload with.

            Meals were little more than mumbled conversation between Harry and Hermione, making Harry miss his friend even more.  Anything to break the monotony would have been welcome.  He ended up getting his wish, though not quite in the way he'd hoped for.  Draco appeared at the Gryffindor table one breakfast, sitting beside Hermione and across from Harry.

            "Hello," he said, snatching up a piece of toast.

            Harry and Hermione mumbled greetings in reply.

            "Hm," Draco snuffed, loading his plate with potatoes, "I've seen a jollier bunch at banshee conventions."

            "You've been to a banshee convention?" Harry asked, determined to keep the silence broken.

            "No, but I theorize."

            Before Harry could reply Hermione suddenly stiffened, her eyes fixed on a point far over his shoulder.  Draco's eyes soon found themselves on the same spot and Harry couldn't help but turn around.  Ron was walking towards them.  He halted suddenly, his eyes going straight to Hermione.  There was a long moment, Ron not moving, Hermione biting her lip.  Then Ron's blue eyes turned into slits and he turned on his heel, walking away.

            Draco raised an eyebrow slightly, catching Harry's eye.  He nodded his head to Ron, then Hermione, then raised his eyebrow higher.  Harry, taking it that Draco was wondering if Ron and Hermione were having a fight nodded and then—as subtly as he could—made a quick gesture of separating his hands to indicate the break-up.  It seemed Draco had been oblivious to what was going on around him the past week, but he apparently understood now, his eyes widening slightly with a tilt of his head.  Without moving his head, Draco glanced over at Hermione.  It was a rather long glance.  When he looked forward again, Harry was scowling at him and shook his head firmly.  Draco just rolled his eyes.

            "I'm done," Hermione murmured, interrupting the boys' silent conversation.  "I'll see you in Potions."

            She left the table quickly; almost the instant she was out of sight, Ron reappeared and sat down next to Harry.

            "Hello," he said stiffly to his plate, piling on food and then shoveling it in his mouth.

            Harry returned the greeting quietly.  A great rushing of wings filled the uncomfortable silence as the mail arrived, and a rather flamboyant ball of gray collided with Ron's head.

            "Ow, Pig!" Ron cried, grabbing the bird roughly.

            Pigwidgeon was unfazed, giving a high-pitched hoot and holding out his leg as best he could from underneath Ron's clenched fist.  Ron snatched the letter and then tossed Pig up, the little owl falling almost onto the heads of some passing Hufflepuff third years before he gained use of his wings and headed for the Owlery.  Ron ripped open the letter, reading quickly.

            "Great!" Ron cried, his eyes clouded over.  "Just great.  After all, it's not like I have anything else to do!"

            He tossed the letter to Harry.

            Dearest Ickle Ron,

            How are you doing?  Good to hear it.  Personally, my wrist makes a nasty popping noise whenever I work a quill,

so I'll keep this short.  George and I are wanting to expand the business, and where better to turn than good old Hogwarts. 

We want to start a mail order service and it would be helpful if you'd toss the idea around with some friends, see if they'd

be eager to buy.

            Try to send word back quick; we're on a schedule after all.  Good luck on your N.E.W.T.s; we know you'll need it.

            Fred

PS:  Bit of a seedy bloke came into the shop the other day; wanted a fake wand.  We weren't about to sell our work to such

a ruffian but he said he knew you, so we decided to take a chance on one of your disreputable friends.  He said to give

Harry and Malfoy a wave.

            "What was that whole bit about the 'seedy bloke'?" Harry asked, handing the letter on to Draco.

            "How the hell should I know?" Ron moaned.  "All I know is that I don't have any time for their stupid mail order service research or whatever you call it."

            "I'll run it by the Slytherins," Draco said matter-of-factly.  "I know of a few who'd love year-round access to Ton-Tongue Toffees, etc."

            Ron blinked, slightly surprised.  Before he could answer, however, something large and gray fell from the ceiling like a stone, swan diving into the middle of Draco's potatoes.

            "Stupid bird," Ron muttered, reaching for the letter tied to Errol's leg.  "How come none of my owls work?  One seems determined to get a job as a living Bludger and the other can't even collapse in front of the person he's delivering to."

            But before he could touch the letter, Draco had snatched it up.

            "Hey!" Ron cried.  "What'd you do that for?  It's from my mum!"

            "But unless you've changed your name to Draco without telling us, it's not addressed to you," Draco said snappily, color coming to his pallid complexion.

            Ron blinked, looking as though Draco had just said all this in Swedish.  "But why would she be writing you?"

            Draco's hand tightened on the letter slightly.  "Probably because I wrote her."

            This only caused Ron's eyes to go wider.  "And why'd you write to her?"

            Draco's cheeks now looked downright rosy.  He glared darkly at Ron.  "To apologize.  And if you ask for what, I will hex you."

            Before Ron could close his gaping mouth, Draco swept away from the table and out of the hall.  It was a while before Ron stopped staring at the hall doors and turned back to his food, muttering, "No one ever tells me anything, Fred and George saying I have seedy friends, Draco suddenly being pen pals with my mum, what am I supposed to do, huh?  Why don't people tell me things?"

            Harry just shrugged.  Ron had been in a right self-pitying mood since the break-up and the last thing Harry wanted to do was let that turn into anger.

            Things took a downward turn for Harry in Potions.  His mind was too busy with the stranger that visited the Weasley twins' shop and what might be in the letter Mrs. Weasley had sent Draco to concentrate on the potion he was making.  As the class came near an end, a wooden spoon plopping into his cauldron caused him to jump.  Snape had glided to his desk and was now looking over his potion.

            "Why, Potter," Snape said slowly, enjoying every moment, "is it that when everyone's De-mute Solution is supposed to have the consistency of paste, yours is hardly better than water?"

            Harry decided against answering altogether; he was not in a mood for arguing.  Snape straightened up promptly, walking away.

            "Detention, Potter, five o'clock tonight, my office."

            Harry's mood made an abrupt u-turn.  "What?!  Since when—"

            "I said 'detention', Potter," Snape snapped scathingly.  "Be on time."

            Harry just gaped soundlessly at the injustice.  He understood getting points taken away—what else could he expect from Snape?—but a whole detention over a shoddy potion was going a bit far.  Even Ron made it a point to declare that Snape should be boiled in a pot of rat spleens, before he went off on the arm of Parvati, Lavender sulking not too far behind.

            The hours before five o'clock slipped away rather faster than Harry would have liked and he soon found himself scowling at Snape's door in the torchlight.  He knew what Snape's detentions were like; he'd end up cleaning something foul without being able to use any magic.  This didn't bother Harry in the least; he'd cleaned many disgusting things at the Dursley house, not least of which being Dudley's bathroom.  But having Snape leering at him the whole time would make the matter much worse.  With a resigned breath, Harry opened the door.

            "You're late," Snape said, glancing up from the parchment he was writing on.

            Harry decided that pointing out that two minutes could hardly be called late might not be the best way to start the tortuous hours ahead.  Snape put the parchment aside, opened a drawer of his desk, and withdrew a jar.  Unlike the innumerous jars lining his shelves, however, this one did not contain a dead thing floating in some foul liquid; instead, six slugs oozed slowly along the sides.  Harry was a bit confused, but didn't say anything as Snape fixed his gaze on him.

            "Tell me, Potter," he said, almost business-like, "what do you already know?"

            "Huh?"

            "What have you already learned about them?" Snape repeated undauntedly.  "I know, if nothing else, you have some experience from your fourth year."

            Harry stared blankly at him a while before it clicked.  "Oh!  You're talking about the Unforgivable Curses?"

            Instantly Harry regretted the words, the look of admonishment on Snape's face far worse than any sneer or glare.

            "Did you really think, Potter, that I was going to assign you to clean the sinks or harvest frog eyes?"

            Harry didn't tell him that was exactly what he had been thinking.

            Snape's black eyes bore into him.  "Believe me, Potter, if I were to assign you detention, it wouldn't be in my own office.  There are few things I'd enjoy less than being in your company for a good many hours."

            Harry felt a bit confused.  "Then why did you agree to teach me the Unforgivables?"

            If Harry thought Snape had looked disagreeable before, he now looked downright nasty.  "Do you want to get on with the lesson, Potter, or continue coming up with great arguments for my not teaching you?"

            "I want to learn," Harry said quickly.  "I will learn, whether or not you teach me."

            "Yes, I believe that argument was among your ranting when you barged in my office before."

            Snape stood up, pacing around the desk slowly, then facing Harry.

            "We will start with the Imperius Curse; that is generally easiest.  You've had some experience fighting off the curse to a minimal degree, or so I've heard," Snape said, managing to scold and be bored at the same time, "but I doubt even Barty Crouch had enough gall to put you fully under the curse right underneath Dumbledore's nose.  However, we will not bother with defending against the curse just yet; fighting a curse seems to go better if one knows how to be on the giving end."

            Snape took off the lid of the jar, reached inside, and withdrew a slug, placing it on the desk in front of Harry.

            "The Unforgivable Curses, Potter, are unlike any spell you have yet to learn," Snape said in the same tone he used to keep his classes echoingly silent.  "There is no simple waving the wand and saying an incantation.  You have to want the spell to work, to consciously will it to happen.  Many find it nearly impossible to do this."

            Taking his wand out, Snape made a circular sweeping motion and then jerked the wand up, crying, "Imperio!"

            The slug froze in its diligent getaway and its feelers began to pump up and down.  Then it stopped this, moving as if to stand up until it was balanced on its end.  It fell down as Snape took the spell off.

            "Did you notice the wand movement I made when I said the spell?"  Snape asked, staring fixedly at him.

            "The sweep and jerk?" Harry said with a slight smile.

            Snape's eyes darkened.  "Yes, if you wish to use such terms as those reserved for first years."

            Harry stopped smiling.

            "That wand movement, along with the correct pronunciation of the spell and the will to make it work, are all you need.  Sounds simple enough, right?  So try, Potter."

            Harry had rather expected more of a long-winded explanation on how exactly to flick the wand and why he was so likely to fail on the first fifty tries; his eyes went quickly to the desk only to find the slug gone.  Well, rather, to find it oozing along the side of the desk in its now more fervent attempt at escape.  Deciding that having the slug somersault back to the desktop would be impressive, Harry left the slug where it was as he sweep-jerked his wand and cried, "Imperio!"

            The slug just kept on oozing.  Will, Harry reminded himself, I have to will it to work.  He concentrated on the desire to make the slug do somersaults a moment, then tried the spell again.  "Imperio!"

            Again, there was no effect.

            "Impressive, Potter," Snape said with a sneer, clearly enjoying himself.

            Harry scowled.  Of course he couldn't get it; why would anyone want to have a slug under his control?  It wasn't something easy to will to happen.  He had to have a reason behind it for it to work, and a very good reason at that.  …He did have a very good reason:  Snape.  More than anything, Harry wanted to wipe the smirk from Snape's face, to freeze any smug remark before it got past his throat.  He wanted the slug under control so he could one-up Snape.

            This thought blaring in his head, Harry lifted his wand again.  "Imperio!"

            The slug froze.  Slightly surprised at his success, Harry fervently started commanding it to do somersaults.  It still didn't move.

            "A start, Potter; a very small one, but a start no less."

            Harry ignored him, concentrating harder.  A warm sensation crept onto his fingertips and slowly the slug began to curl into a ball.  Then it fell off the desk.

            "Was that your doing Potter?" Snape snapped.

            Harry jumped as though he'd forgotten Snape was there, the warmth on this fingertips vanishing.  "I…I think it was."

            Snape's expression was void of any emotion.  He just stared at Harry a long while and then said, "Very well.  This has taken enough of my time; take the slug with you and practice.  And remember not to be stupid enough to practice in front of others or you'll wish it was simply a matter of detention.  Come back tomorrow, same time."

****

            "A whole week of detentions?!" Ron cried out in disbelief.  "That's vile!  Tell Dumbledore, Harry, he'll set Snape right."

            Harry shook his head.  He was sitting alone with Ron on a sofa in front of the common room fire, telling him the punishment he'd received.  "I've been through worse, Ron, I hardly think detention is worth whining over."

            "But you went just a little spacey about your potion, that's not even enough to get one detention!"

            "Harry has to go again?"

            Ron instantly stiffened, then moved to get up, but Harry grabbed his arm and held him in place; he wasn't going to have to repeat things just because Ron refused to be in Hermione's company.

            "Yeah, but just a week," Harry said, ignoring Ron's glares.

            Hermione sat on the chair beside their sofa, looking shocked.

            "A whole week because of your potion?  Harry, that's not fair—"

            "I'll live through it, Hermione, I promise," Harry said with a smile.  "It's only cleaning out his cupboards, I don't think they've seen a rag in years and that he wants them done all in one go."

            Hermione looked a bit confused; Ron looked determinably at his shoe.  "Are you sure you're alright with this, Harry?" she asked.

            Harry shrugged.  "Snape's not even in the room; he told me what he wanted me to do and left."

            It was a bit awkward, all these straight-faced lies.  Yet Harry didn't want to even imagine their reaction if they knew he was learning the Unforgivable Curses.

            "But I don't…  Harry?" Hermione said, her eyebrows rose.  "Is that a slug crawling on your leg?"

            Ron slapped a hand over his mouth involuntarily.  Harry laughed, scooping up the squishy creature that had escaped from his pocket.  "No worries, Ron, it's from me, not you.  Those cabinets were a bit moldy, I'm sure I just picked this up while I was cleaning."

            For the first time since Hermione had joined them, Ron spoke up.  "Yuck."

            Harry just laughed again, then got up, stretching.  "I'm a bit tired out; I'm going to bed."

            "But Harry, we still have homework."

            A derisive snort came from Ron as he stood up and walked away.  Harry didn't stop him this time.  "It's alright, Hermione, I can get away with not doing it one night."

            "But if you have more detentions this week—"

            "It'll get done, promise," Harry said over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs.

            No one was in the dormitory, so Harry just pulled his bed curtains closed and practiced quietly.  It was harder now, he had no Snape to be displeased at his success.  However, as the hours slipped by, he found it became easier and easier to want to make a slug dance on its end and bounce around like a rubber ball.  Neville came to bed at ten, so Harry had to stop, but he decided he'd made more than a small start.

            The next day, Snape had him spend forty minutes on the slug before he brought out a mouse.  "The more advanced the mind, the harder it will be to control it.  You will have to work your way up."

            It took only an hour for Harry to master the mouse and Snape didn't even tell him to take it to practice on later.  The rabbit took a full night.  Harry could see now why the Imperius Curse was popular; there was something sickeningly satisfying about having complete control over another being.

            The next night Harry went for his lesson, he practiced on the rabbit for only five minutes; Snape had decided to move on.

            "Controlling the mind of a vermin is one thing," Snape said, turning to his desk and putting the rabbit away.  "The human mind, however, is a degree more complex.  You need more challenging targets."

            Harry sighed, trying to envision Ron volunteering to let him and Snape take turns making him do cartwheels.  Somehow he couldn't see it happening.  "Who then?"

            "Me," Snape replied, glancing back at Harry.

            Harry gaped slightly.  "You?  The Imperius?  Professor, I can't—"

            "That, most likely, will be the case," Snape said sharply, facing Harry fully.  "However, you are going to try."

            Harry just held his wand numbly.  Animals and Death Eaters were one thing, but to have complete control over one of his professors, even Snape, was a terrifying idea, however tempting.  His black eyes glinting, Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.

            "Do it, Potter, or I will see what kind of acrobatics you are capable of without a broom."

            Harry knew better than to doubt Snape's threat.  "Imperio!"

            A tingling warmth took hold of Harry's hand like a heavy glove.  Snape stood still and silent, though not nearly so rigid as usual.  His eyes looked a bit vague.  Harry's mind flew, trying to find something to make his professor do.

            'Climb the walls,' he finally decided.

            Snape's voice came back to him in his head, distant yet clear.  'Now really, Potter, even if I wanted to do such a thing, I doubt I could.'

            Harry felt a bit taken aback by the confident answer; it was almost as though Snape hadn't been affected at all.

            'Hop around the room,' he tried.

            'Definitely not.'

            Harry was feeling like a failure.  Snape was even sneering at him now.

            'Jump up on the desk!' he thought fiercely.

            'Take it off, Potter.  I'll help you.'

            Dejected, Harry waved his wand and removed the spell.  Snape's eyes went back to normal.

            "Well," he said sharply, "I can think of three things you did wrong.  First, you started too large.  Second, you questioned your own orders.  Third, you didn't really want it to work."

            Harry was unable to keep his gaze even with Snape's, staring at the man's feet instead.  Later he realized that not watching Snape carefully probably wasn't the best thing to do.

            "Imperio!"

            As though plunged into a lake, Harry felt a dull happiness sweep over him.  The world might have been a white haze for all he noticed.  When Snape's voice came in his head, it was clear and sharp, commanding in a way that Harry didn't even feel the need to question.  Harry remembered when "Moody" had put him under Imperius almost painfully well, but that had only been a tempered dose.  Snape didn't believe in tempered doses.

            'Get on top of the desk.'

            Well, that's not such an absurd request, Harry thought to himself as he almost eagerly followed the orders.

            'Now fly off.'

            That's not too bad either.  After all, I can fly; I've always been able to fly.  I've just never done it before.

            Harry leapt, long and far, and for a moment he knew he was soaring.  Then he crashed into the floor, his ankle twisting beneath him as he fell heavily.  Snape took the spell off and Harry clenched his fists, the pain nearly causing him to shake.

            "Now, Potter," Snape said quietly, "try again."

            Harry stared at him, breathing hard and gritting his teeth.

            "I will not tell you again, Potter.  Unless you would like to give another go at flight."

            Harry leapt to his feet, yelling, "IMPERIO!"

            Snape's eyes took on the appearance of empty bottomless pits, not a glimmer in either, and the power enveloped Harry's whole arm this time.

            "YOU get on the desk!" Harry said aloud.

            'I don't believe I will.'

            Harry felt the anger boiling within him, but tried to control it, to concentrate it on one purpose.

            'Do a cartwheel!'

            'No.'

            Trying to control his breathing, Harry tried to think over what Snape had told him he'd done wrong.  "First, you started too large."

            With a deep breath, Harry decided on his command.  'Take a step forward.'

            '…I'd rather not.'

            'Take a step forward.'

            Snape's foot twitched.  '…pointless, really…'

            'Take a step forward!'

            Not leaving the ground, but undoubtedly moving, Snape's right foot shuffled forward.  Harry beamed, withdrawing the spell.  The warmth drained from his arm and Snape's eyes took on their sharpness once more.  He stared at Harry a long while without a word until the boy's smile had been completely erased.

            "Better."

            And with a wave of his hand, he dismissed Harry.

***

            By the end of the week, Harry had not only got a good grasp of the Imperius Curse, but thanks to Snape's insistence on returning the spell whenever he could break through Harry's, he was better at fighting it.  He hadn't had to in years and the practice was certainly helpful.

            Harry got Monday off merely because he didn't have Potions and so wasn't given detention.  He had planned on doing something spectacular to get detention Tuesday, but the best he could come up with would have ended in angering the very person who was teaching him the Unforgivables, which considering the spells went both ways, probably wasn't the best thing to do.  Instead, he "accidentally" knocked over the table his potion was on, causing it fly and splatter all over the floor.  Squeals and screams rang out, the least of which not being Neville Longbottom's, whose cauldron had been sharing Harry's table.  As Snape swept angrily toward them, Harry felt a pang of guilt, wondering if Neville would get in trouble.  But surely not even Snape—

            "Potter, Longbottom, clean this up this instant!" he snapped.  "Ten points from Gryffindor and you shall both serve detention!"

            Harry bolted up, feeling his face go red.  "Professor, that's not fair, Neville didn't do anything!"

            "I think I am the teacher here, Potter."

            "But it was my fault, completely!  You can't punish him!"  In a hiss, Harry added, "He had nothing to do with it!"

            Snape's countenance had taken on his classic sinister smile.  "Very well then, Potter.  That will be a week's worth of detentions for you alone."

            Murmurs of surprise went through the crowd and Ron looked nothing short of murderous; another week of detentions for something so small was unheard of.  Harry, however, just gaped slightly.

            "How did you know I'd jump to your bait?" he asked the instant he entered Snape's office that evening.

            "Potter, you are as predictable as the phases of the moon," Snape said with a sneer, putting down his quill.  "Nobility has always been your greatest weakness."

            Harry felt his face getting redder.  "Funny.  I always considered it a strength."

            "Not when paired with arrogance and rashness," Snape replied in an even voice.  "In any case, today it was convenient; tripping into your potion is a rather poor way of receiving a week of detentions."

            "I didn't know what potion we'd be doing!" Harry said defensively.  "What if I'd splashed it over your precious Slytherins and they all began sprouting extra arms?"

            "Arms, Potter?" Snape asked, looking slightly amused.

            More heat came to Harry's face.  "It's just an example."

            "To the matter at hand, then.  You're doing adequately at the Imperius Curse, so I will now teach you the Cruciatus," Snape said, getting out the jar of six slugs and pulling an unlucky one out.

            The color in Harry's face fell away faster than snow on a heated roof.  "I don't think I really need to learn the Cruciatus," Harry said slowly, looking with pity at the oblivious slug.  "We could just go on to the Killing Curse."

            Snape was silent.  Feeling awkward, Harry looked up at him slowly, almost reluctantly; his Potions teacher was glaring at him with more loathing than Harry could ever recall.

            "You have been under Cruciatus, Potter, have you not?" Snape said, his voice grating.  Harry nodded.  "Tell me, when you were, did you wish you were dead?"

            His answer came barely above a whisper.  "Yes."  A coldness seemed to sweep through Harry; he'd never told anyone that before.  But then, no one had ever asked.

            "And afterward?" Snape went on.  "Five minutes, two weeks, a year afterward, did you still wish you were dead?"

            Harry's eyes widened and it took him a while to respond.  "N…no."

            "There is more to taking on the forces of evil than death.  Pain is sometimes necessary, Potter."  Snape's eyes narrowed and he drew himself up taller.  "You asked me to arm you against the most feared man living, to put his weapons in your hands.  That I intend to do, and not halfway."

            His mouth dry, Harry nodded as Snape turned to the slug and started explaining how to make it writhe in pain.

****

            "A week's detention for knocking over a few potions and then taking full blame," Ron said in angry disbelief, "and after you'd already had a week!  Snape's been unfair before Harry, but this is just downright nasty."

            Harry did his best to look sullen and angry when he nodded.

            "We should do something," Ron rambled on.  "Raid his office and cast a Multiplying Mold Jinx or something."

            "Great, so I'd get to scrub away at the mold for another week?"

            "Hello."

            Hermione joined them, sitting next to Harry with a sad look.  Ron stiffened, but didn't leave.  Harry took this as a vast improvement.

            "What does he have you doing now, Harry?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

            Harry was ready for this question.  "Well, some of the cupboards still need cleaning.  If I finish that, he'll set me to sorting his store cupboard."

            Hermione's eyes widened slightly.  "His personal store cupboard?"

            "…Yeah."

            Hermione now looked downright skeptical.

            "What?" Harry asked.

            "Well, that seems a bit odd, doesn't it?" she said slowly.  "I mean, if there's anything he's strict about—"

            "What are you going on about?" Ron said scathingly, surprising Harry.  It was the first full sentence he'd heard him say to Hermione since the break-up.  "What is Snape not strict about?"

            Despite their snide nature, Hermione did look a little cheerier to have a few words from Ron.  "Well, if there's one thing he's most strict about it's students not being into his store cupboard.  And he hardly likes you, Harry, I just don't see why he would allow it."

            Harry felt the heat rising to the back of his neck.  He hadn't thought it so odd when he'd come up with the story.  "Er…  Well, I probably won't ever get to that point; those cupboards are nasty."

            "After the week you put in before?" Ron asked, aghast.  "You must clean about as a good as our ghoul, mate."

            Harry forced a laugh at this, but he went off to bed early.  Not feeling up to practicing the sweeping wand movement required for the Cruciatus, he lay in bed inventing more believable punishments.

****

            The Cruciatus Curse turned out to me much harder than the Imperius.  No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't seem to want to watch the creatures suffer.  He managed small spurts of pain, trying to pretend the slug was a gruesome Death Eater.  But to hold the curse like Snape did, to make the slug quiver and twist and curl upon itself…  Far from doing the curse successfully, Harry found himself wanting to stop Snape's demonstrations.

            "Potter, stop," Snape ordered one lesson when Harry was having no effect on the crawling slug.  "You can't simply pretend to wish to give it pain; you have to thirst for it, to want it to suffer."

            "But I don't want it to suffer!" Harry said heatedly.  If Snape was frustrated with Harry's inability, it was nothing to how Harry felt.

            Snape sighed, sweeping the slug into its jar.  "Perhaps if we try a different tactic.  Maybe we should move straight to putting the curse on people."

            "Whoa, no," Harry said firmly, shaking his head.  "I am not putting you under the Cruciatus."

            Snape looked half exasperated.  "I assure you, Potter, I've been under the curse before; I know what I can handle."

            "It's not you I'm worried about," Harry said.  "If I can't get it to work, you'll put it on me."

            Snape didn't move for a long time, though Harry thought he saw his mouth twitch.  "All the more reason for you to succeed."

            Harry gulped as Snape readied his wand, but he wasn't about to be caught off guard.  "Crucio!"

            He had no effect whatsoever.

            "Potter, you must will it to happen."

            Harry breathed heavily, a bit angry.  "I know!  I just can't!"

            "Ah, yes, your nobility again.  Arrogance, more like," Snape sneered.  "Just like your father."

            "Crucio!"

            Snape was knocked back, but regained his footing.  "Weak, too.  I once put him under the Cruciatus myself; I enjoyed every moment of it."

            Harry felt a burning behind his eyes.  "Crucio!"

            Snape actually fell over, but was soon back on his feet.  "Not that anyone ever knew about it.  He'd gone soft by then, because of your mother.  She weakened him even more.  The pair of them hindered our cause with their arrogance and inability.  It was a god-send when they died; they deserved to be killed."

            The anger and hate splitting Harry's head was joined by a longing, a black desire to hurt Snape.  He wanted it so much, he could actually envision Snape writhing and squirming and screaming on the floor.  It was a moment before Harry realized the screams were real.

            In a panic, he withdrew the spell.  For a while, Snape clutched to the floor, gasping for breath but trying not to.  Then he got to his feet, facing Harry with cold black eyes.  For a moment, Harry was sure Snape was going to place him under the curse; he wanted to apologize, but for some reason it didn't come out.

            "We can only hope, Potter," Snape said, turning and walking briskly to his desk, "that all Death Eaters will insult your parents.  Dismissed."

            That weekend and the whole following week, Harry didn't have any extra lessons; it would be suspicious if Harry had a third week in a row of punishments, even coming from Snape.  Harry tried to practice, but didn't feel much up to it.  When the lessons picked up again the next week as February rolled around, he was back to slugs; somehow he no longer had trouble.  Friday came and, to Harry's surprise, Snape told him not to come the next week.  When Harry asked when they would meet next, Snape said whenever he decided to continue.

            Nothing much happened the whole week:  the weather was abnormally warm, so Harry started Quidditch practices.  Ron's reluctance to be within earshot of Hermione varied with his mood, as did his determination to be at Parvati's side.  It wasn't until Friday at their first class, Care of Magical Creatures, that something seemed out of order:  Hagrid wasn't there.  Instead, Professor Grubbly-Plank was their substitute and, as usual, refused to tell them anything about Hagrid's whereabouts.

            Then came Prep class and, even more disconcerting, Sirius wasn't there.  Flitwick was filling in temporarily for him but insisted he didn't know where Sirius was.  It became even more apparent at lunch that something strange was going on.  More than half the faces at the staff table were new, and not even Dumbledore was there.  Harry and Ron didn't get much of a chance to discuss this; they were nearly late for Divination.  Once up the ladder, Ron automatically took his place beside Parvati.  After a hopeful glance around, Harry sat next to Lavender with a resigned sigh.

            "Friday the thirteenth," Professor Trelawney said mournfully as she appeared.  "A most dire day when terrible things occur most frequently.  Today, class, we shall gaze into the depths of our crystal balls and try to decipher what horrible happenings fate has for us today."

            They had scarcely been gazing five minutes before Trelawney found herself at Harry and Lavender's table.

            "If you'll allow me, Miss Brown," Trelawney said graciously, peering into the glass.  And, like clockwork, "Oh, Mr. Potter!  The mystical depths of the orb predict dreadful things for you on this cursed date.  I see—"

            "Professor!" Ron suddenly cried out, gazing intently at his crystal ball.  "C'mere, I think I've got something dreadful."

            As Trelawney swept swiftly over, Ron's exclamations went on.  "It's getting bigger!  I can see it awfully clear now.  It's such an ugly beast, like a giant bug of some sort!  I think it's going to atta—oh, sorry, false alarm, Professor, it's only you."

            Most of the class found this uproariously funny.  Parvati Patil did not.

            "She's a bit touchy about the old bat, isn't she?" Ron said, rubbing his head as he and Harry sat together in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Parvati was sure to get a seat with her sister Padma and a very pleased Lavender as far away from them as possible.

            "Just a bit," Harry nodded.  Truth be told, he'd never seen Parvati that angry and was quite impressed with how hard she could throw a crystal ball.

            When the bell rang, the classroom door opened and a stack of papers came stumbling into the room.  When the papers were deposited unceremoniously onto the desk, however, the person underneath them was not Professor Connelly.  He was a rather small man with a mop of mousy-brown hair and lop-sided glasses.  He seemed a bit out of breath from his rush into the room and looked downright nervous facing the class.  Harry swore he could hardly be much older than they were.

            "Er…hello, er, class," the man stuttered, still breathing heavily.  "I'll be, erm, substituting today—"

            "Marlon?  Hey, Marlon, how are you?!" cried an excited voice from among the Ravenclaws.

            "Marlon" adjusted his glasses, glancing at the class in confusion, then finding the person who'd called his name.

            "Su?" he asked in surprise.  "Wow, Su, I haven't seen you in ages!"

            "Not since you graduated three years ago," replied a girl with short black hair.  "How are you?  What are you doing here?  You're not a teacher, are you?"

            "Oh, no, not yet, I was called in last minute, apparently there's a bit of a shortage today."

            "Where's Connelly?"

            "Who?"

            "Our regular Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

            "Oh, you have a regular one now?  I have no idea, honestly, McGonagall just owled me yesterday…"

            It wasn't until the talking of the rest of the class started to drown him out that the substitute teacher finally stopped his conversation and tried to get class started.

            "Okay, today we've got a bit of research to do.  Oh, my name's Professor Muggs, by the—"

            "Oh, don't you start that professor junk, Marlon!" Su laughed.

            Poor Marlon never got the class in order and ended up declaring them free to do whatever they pleased.  Hermione soon came over to Ron and Harry.  Ron moved to get up, but Hermione yanked him back down directly.

            "Why are so many teachers missing today?" she asked in earnest.  "They're rarely gone at all, much less all on the same day."

            "I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head.  "There was no smoke coming from Hagrid's house, and Sirius would have told me if he was ill or something."

            "It's got to be something to do with the resistance," Hermione said quickly, "and whatever it is, it's big.  A battle or something dangerous like that."

            "What makes you think that?" Ron said stiffly, unable to hold back his curiosity.

            "Look at the classes we've been having," she pointed out.  "Snape has had us making large batches of defensive potions, Hagrid had us harvesting murtlap spines, it fits that if they were planning on attacking, they would want those things, doesn't it?"

            "But why didn't they tell…us?" Harry said, quickly stopping himself from saying 'me.'

            "Secrecy, obviously," Hermione said with a nod.  "But I just don't see how they know enough to actually go out and fight."

            "They have ways of finding out," Harry said quietly.

            "But when will we know if they've succeeded?" Ron said, forgetting any pretense of hating Hermione.  "Will we ever know?  Waiting and not knowing…"

            "I know," Hermione said quietly, "but waiting is all we can do."

            Harry was up late that night, long after the other Gryffindor boys had fallen asleep.  He stared at the top of his bed, wishing Sirius hadn't gone and having the same scene play over and over in his mind.

            "Never blame yourself, Harry.  It's Voldemort who's done this.  It's Voldemort who's destroyed families.  Believe me, it wasn't your fault."

            "…Promise me you'll never die, Sirius."

            "You know I can't do that, Harry."

            "You have to.  He's taken away so many people I've cared about…  Please promise.  I can't bear to lose another dad, Sirius…"

            "…I promise."

~*~*~

A/N:  First, I want to give a lot of thanks to my beta, Elucreh.  She catches all the small things that are adequate but not as great as their potential, her advice is amazing, and her ideas are brilliant.  Thank you, Elucreh. ^_^

            Second, AH!  Wasn't OotP a great book?!  I bawled, I really did.  And Luna Lovegood!  Oh, what a wonderful character!  I just wish I'd known about her sooner so I could have written her!  *grins happily*  However, I ask this of anyone who reviews:  Don't discuss the book in reviews, at least no specifics, just on the off chance that someone who hasn't read it comes across them.  I can't imagine who in their right mind would be reading fanfic reviews when they haven't read the book, but you never know.  If you want someone to discuss the book with, though, my email's always open and ready:  adyremard@yahoo.com

            Third, wow, you guys are just amazing.  I'm so sorry this chapter took forever; unlike JKR, I have had writer's block.  I'm determined to write, write, write now that the block has lifted.  I'm just flabbergasted that there are people out there with enough patience to still be reading and reviewing my fic.*bows*Thank you.

Shrimpo/Jewels:  ^_^  lol  Yah, thank you!

Humvee:  *blushes*  Thank you very much.  I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I had to make my beta promise that I would come to no harm before I would let her read that chapter.  But after reading OotP, I certainly get my end of the stick. *sighs sadly*

Prongs:  Thank you. ^_^

Slycat-blaze:  *grins*  Thank you.  I like the poem, too; I've no idea how I came up with it.  Knowing my memory, I may not have. lol

Liliana-Suger:  Wow, thank you…

Starry:  I'm pretty sure I made it up.  I'm not positive on that, so I always ask people if they can prove I didn't.  But I think it was me. lol  Yes, I do have a bad memory. ^_^  Thank you!

Dracos_gurl4ever:  Thanks!

Trisana:  ^_^  Thank you.

Interested!:  lol  Sorry if this'll be a disappointment, but it's nothing special.  I read once in an interview of JKR that Lily's maiden name was Evans. (I recommend The Floo Network.  www.the-leaky-cauldron.org  is a great place for news, and if you want JKR interviews, I believe you click their "Quotes" link.)  As for Trelawney's prediction, Dumbledore once said that Trelawney had made two true predictions and on the internet, I came across people saying that they thought Trelawney's prediction would be mentioned in later books, so I wrote it in.  *grins*  That's the funny thing about fanfiction, hardly anything is truly yours. ^_^  Thanks for the review.

Coud514:  lol  I promise, I post the moment I get these things written.  Well, and after my beta's looked over it.  And sometimes ffn isn't working when I try to put it up…  Yeah. ^_^  Thank you!

Louise Luvgood:  Thank you.  And how I would have LOVED to have known about Luna Lovegood before I wrote these stories, but sadly, I did not.

Colibi:  ^_^  Thank you.

Tanya:  *smiles*  Reminds me a lot of theories about a certain someone in OotP.  ^_^  I'm afraid I can beat that, though:  I'm the author; what I say, goes. ^-^  Thanks for the review!

Yuri Prime:  *bursts out in laughter*  Oh, thank you!  I was feeling somewhat melancholy, but that review! *laughs*  Thank you.

            Be excellent to each other!

            -Ady

PS—  I have done everything I can to the ruddy format, but fanfiction.net does NOT like my computer for some odd reason.  For this, I apologize.  Sorry.