Chapter Fourteen:

"Up for a game of chess?"

"No, Ron, I'm sort of tired. Occlumency, you know."

"Oh," Ron said with disappointment. "Look mate, I feel for you. Having to still go one with lessons with that greasy git..."

Harry shrugged, "it could be worse. Nearly blocked him out today."

"Really?"

"Yea." Of course Harry was lying. But he was very touchy of the fact that Ron had excelled in Occlumency, while he had made no progress.

"Well," Ron said, "I'll be in the Common Room bothering 'Mione or someone else for a game."

"All right, see you in the morning."

Harry had been anxious all afternoon to get to sleep so he could take the lemon drop the Headmaster had given him. He almost decided to say he didn't feel well, but he did not want to risk a forced trip to Madam Pomfrey. So he used exhaustion from Occlumency as an excuse, which was not uncommon in recent days.

Harry glanced around the room to ensure no one else was lurking about, then he unwrapped the lemon drop and placed it on his tongue. What happened next he could not have expected. Instead of being hit with the usual potent lemon-flavor, his mouth was under the impression that he had placed a handful of gravel and mud on his tongue. On its own, the lemon drop slid down his throat like a snake. Harry's esophagus burned as he gagged. He reached for the glass of water on his night table, but it slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor. Harry's vision swam in and out of focus.

Merlin, he's drugged me.

Harry swayed and fell backwards onto his bed. He did not even have time to take his shoes off before sleep consumed him. But was it sleep? Harry was still vaguely aware of his surroundings, and knew that his eyes were definitely closed. Still, a vision formed before him. The last thought Harry had before the vision took over was that he felt the same notion felt when entering a pensieve.

"Albus!" A tall, pale figure in tattered black robes with an upturned collar burst into the Great Hall and collapsed on top of the dining table.

The hall was void of students, as it was midnight, well past their curfew. The Hogwarts staff ceased their conversation at once. Mcgonagall scowled at the appearance of one of her former students.

"Severus...?" she said with disgust, "what on earth..."

The headmaster rose from his seat, and ran to Severus's aid. He helped the panic-stricken man stay standing by grabbing both of his thin wrists. "Severus, do you think you are in a state to take a stroll to my office."

"N-no time," he gasped.

Dumbledore looked around at the puzzled staff. "If I could please have a word alone ..."

At once the staff table cleared, though looks of complete disgust were thrown around from all directions. When the room emptied, and a silencing charm had been cast for any outside ears, Dumbledore tried to sit Severus down. The man seemed too much in a rush to do so, and edged towards the door despite a sprained ankle and bloody nose.

"Severus, calm down. Sit and we shall discuss the meaning of this."

"You fool, there is no time! Cruciatus...on the Longbottoms....minds gone....going for the Potters." Severus choked on blood that streamed down from his nose.

Dumbledore's eye widened, "are you sure?"

"Why else would I come back here!?" Snape spat. Flecks of blood flew into Dumbledore's beard, but the old man did not seem to mind. "I have to go back. The Dark Lord is expecting me to attack Godric's Hollow. Albus, I don't want to...I want to be...I know you'll never believe me but I had to-"

"Severus," Dumbledore cut him off sharply, "There is no time. Return when you can. I shall inform aurors immediately."

The vision faded on a dumbstruck Snape. Before Harry could take in any of what he had just seen, another memory formed.

"Headmaster, you know that we have all trust your past decisions with the Order. But this is preposterous. How can you trust a man that has vowed to serve the Dark Side until death?"

Dumbledore sighed, took of his half-moon spectacles and polished them on his midnight-blue robes before replacing them on his crooked nose. "Minerva," he rose, "he attempted to save the lives of two of the best aurors the Order has."

"What about the Longbottoms?" Mcgonagall said hoarsely.

"There was nothing he could do. He was in the presence of other Death Eaters."

"Albus, you are trusting a man who watched some of the top Order members being driven to insanity, worse than death! Thank Merlin that their son was with the grandmother."

"Yes, I am grateful in Alastor's assistance in moving Neville." At this remark Mad-Eye gave Dumbledore a slight nod. "There is no question that Severus Snape's past actions are unacceptable and they-"

"Unacceptable is hardly the word to be used!" an outburst came from Edgar Bones, a young well-polished man wearing a brown suit. "Snape is not to be trusted. He is a danger to the Order and can never be redeemed for what he did to -"

The memory ended very abruptly so that Edgar Bones's sentence was cut off. Before Harry could contemplate just what the end of that sentence was, he was thrust into the darkness of the dormitory.

Harry groggily sat up. He slowly began to take in what had just happened. Snape was in the same village as him the night his parents died. He was with the Longbottoms as they were driven to insanity. Harry wondered if Neville knew. Snape had tried to save himself and his parents. The thought of it was difficult to imagine. But what had caused Snape to switch sides? That question had not been answered. Was it because of the life debt he owed to Harry's father? Somehow, Harry thought, there was more to it than that. Was is perhaps for his mother, who had treated him with some form of decency while they were at school? What did the man in the brown suit mean to say before the vision evaporated? Snape had done harm to someone, but who? Harry's mind buzzed with more questions than he had originally had. Why would Snape be willing to give so much of his past away simply for the hopes that Harry would overcome his obstacles in Occlumency? He would have never done this if his intentions were to open up Harry's mind for Voldemort. ...Harry was starting to trust Snape.

No! A firm voice in his head said. He could not trust the man who tried to put down his godfather when he was in hiding. It would be a disgrace to Sirius's memory, he thought.

Harry took a huge bite out of the sausage on his fork. Three days had passed since the lemon drop incident, and he still had not discussed it with Hermione and Ron. Somehow it was too difficult to talk to anyone about anything this year. Of course, Luna had been an exception. She had contemplated Harry's visions, and like him had reached the conclusion that Snape sided with the light. However, this did not completely diminish the hatred he felt for the man. Recent Potions lessons proved that Snape's feelings were mutual. Harry felt a bit guilty confiding in Luna and becoming so close to her when she had no idea of the prophecy. The thought of telling her, let alone Hermione and Ron was just too much to bear. On one occasion Ron had indirectly reminded Harry of his promise to tell of the prophecy, which he made in the summer. Harry had not forgotten this. It was a constant reminder when he woke up from visions in the middle of the night. Though the number of visions decreased slightly since Christmas, he still kept a bucket under his bed for precautions.

Harry took a sip out of his goblet of pumpkin juice and swallowed down the last bit of his sausage. He reached across the table for a roll and began to butter it. He opened his mouth widely and was about to bite into the roll when he caught a group of Ravenclaws staring at him intently. Harry drew his attention back to his food and began to eat. When he reached for his goblet he caught Michael Corner eyeing him. He smiled at Harry; Harry tried to smile back. Harry just began to notice how unusually quiet the Gryfindor table was. He looked up at Hermione, who was nervously playing with her french toast. Neville nudged Ginny's foot under the table.

"Shh!" Ginny hissed at him.

Ron coughed and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Harry was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. He had a strange feeling that he was the cause of the tension. He tried to swallow down this feeling along with his juice, but it did not seem to be working. A brief glance over at the staff table told him that Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on.

"Alright! What is it!?" he screamed. No one bothered to turn their head in surprise, as they were all already looking at Harry, who was now red in the face.

"Well..." Hermione started.

"Well, what!? What's going on?!"

"I had a few Hufflepuffs come up to me yesterday and ask me about the DA...and it seems as though all the old members are interested in starting it up again. A few new students want to join as well." She bit her lip, anxiously awaiting Harry's response.

"And I guess Dumbledore knows?" Harry hissed at her. The two of them looked at the Headmaster, who smiled and waved.

"Oh, honestly!" Harry said with exasperation. "Fine!"

Hermione smiled as the people around them grinned back and whispered "yes!" A few Slytherins gave them odd looks, but soon returned to their own conversations.

"I've made the fake Galleons again," Hermione said. "And I've handed them out, so you don't have to bother with that."

"What if I said no?" Harry asked.

Ron snorted, "Ha! You say no to that, mate?"

So that was it. The DA was back on its feet again after being on hold for nearly a year. The first meeting was decided to be on the upcoming Wednesday, the day after Harry's next Occlumency lesson. Harry suddenly found himself nervous at the prospect of being a teacher once again, but there was no way he could turn down anyone who wanted defense skills against Voldemort.