Harry's footsteps echoed against the walls yet again as he ran pell-mell for Snape's dungeon classroom. He passed few people in the halls – most of them hurrying off to the Great Hall for dinner – he could hear the dull roar as he ran past. He was just running up to Snape's office when Peeves swooped by.

"Wee Potty Potter! In trouble again, eh?"

"Hello to you, too, Peeves," Harry muttered through gritted teeth.

"[I]POTTER![/I]" rang Snape's voice.

"OOoooooo...that doesn't sound very pleasant, does it?" Peeves said, swooping through Harry's head and ruffling his hair even more as he disappeared down the hallway. "Play nice, wee Potty Potter!"

Harry sighed, feeling his shoulders sink. Snape was going to go even harder on him, now. He pushed open the dungeon door, and found Snape sitting at his desk, still grading papers.

"Are you currently in possession of a watch, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes. Err, no," Harry said. He still hadn't replaced his stupid wristwatch...

"I see," Snape said, "The subject of Time obviously confuses you, so I will speak slowly and clearly. While your time is not of any particular value to me, my own certainly is. And you seem to have quite the propensity for wasting it."

Harry took a deep breath. Snape was trying to rile him – it would make it all the easier to break into his mind.

"Deeeep breaths," Harry thought to himself, "Ten...nine..."

"So, where were you? Ah, let me guess. Chatting with your fan club and [I]Professor[/I] Lupin," he sneered.

"Eight...seven...six..."

"Or his reflection, rather. It seems Dumbledore is yet again lowering standards..."

"[I]Five....four...[/I]"

"Well I think you'll find, Mr. Potter," Snape hissed, a sordid smile playing on his twisted lips, "that my standards have not lessened in the slightest...I am going to be considerably more demanding on you."

"Bring it on," Harry thought to himself. Snape's eyebrow arched.

"Very well then," he said, "into my office."

Harry followed Snape as he swooped into his office, wishing very dearly he could step on his billowing robes, just to watch him fall flat on his face.

Snape opened a cupboard and took out Dumbledore's Pensieve, and placing the tip of his wand at his temple, began extracting silvery, flossy memories from his mind, and placing them into the sieve to swirl...Harry noted he spent considerably more time doing this than he had last year. He then took the full Pensieve, and shut it into the cupboard.

Snape turned the key in the lock, and abruptly turned to glare at Harry over his shoulder.

"I trust," he said with a voice of deadliest quiet, "The contents of that sieve will be safe from prying eyes this year?"

Harry nodded mutely. Truth be told, he wished he'd never looked at Snape's memories – then he'd never know what a prat his Dad had been...how bullying and immature Sirius had been...

Sirius...

"[I]LEGLIMENS![/I]" cried Snape, whipping his wand at Harry without warning.

The dementors were swirling around Harry, Sirius lying unconscious at his feet...

Sirius was laughing with James and Lily in their wedding photo...holding their hands up as though ducking from the rain – Harry's tears were spattering on the glossy finish...

Sirius was falling backwards in a graceful arc –

"[I]GAAAAHHHHH!!![/I]"

Snape was suddenly spun backwards over his desk, and landed lopsided in his chair. Harry's face was streaked with tears, but he barely noticed as he advanced upon Snape, his wand still held out in front of him, spewing sparks...

"[I]Expelliarmus![/I]" shouted Snape, and Harry heard the fear in his voice, even as his wand went flying across the room.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear the red haze that had taken him over. Snape breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure (and his footing).

"Well," Snape said, rearranging his robes, "That was certainly effective. I suppose that was unintentional?"

"Yes," Harry choked out through his tears, "Sorry."

"Sorry what?"

"Sir," Harry said, his entire body trembling.

"Well, I believe it is safe to say that your lack of self-control has not far improved since last we met. As for your memories of Sirius," Snape said, looking down his nose at Harry, "You will have to control yourself, Potter. There is no point in wasting tears over Sirius Black. What's dead is dead."

Harry's blood was pounding through his temples, and there was a ringing in his ears.

"And as for your overwhelming, misguided guilt complex," Snape said, his voice gliding like silk through water, "It is both inaccurate and pathetically arrogant. You blame yourself because you couldn't save him – but then of course, your real flaw (then as it is always), is in assuming that it was your responsibility to save him in the first place. After all, that's what the [I]hero[/I] does, isn't it?"

Harry's wand began to flare, but Snape didn't notice. By now he was leaning over his desk, and saliva flecked his lips as he spat his spite at Harry.

"Barges in, wand drawn, Gryffindor colors flapping in the breeze...we can all rest easy – [I]Harry Potter[/I] and his [I]posse[/I] have arrived...Turns out it was you who needed saving, wasn't it? But rest assured, Potter, Sirius Black was the undoing of Sirius Black. You just made a dangerous and arrogant error in judgement."

"Are you saying that Sirius is to blame?" Harry asked, his green eyes blazing.

"Oh, don't worry," Snape hissed quietly, "You can still share the blame if you like."

"[I]LEGLIMENS![/I]"

The word ripped from Harry's mouth before he even had time to contemplate what he was doing.

A lanky teenage boy with stringy black hair was being slapped in the face by a tall, dark man, as his mother cowered in the corner, her tears mingling with the blood oozing from her cheek.

Peter Pettigrew was tremblingly telling Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange that he had just set fire to the Weasley house, and Harry felt a horrible mix of panic and guilt wrench his midsection...Bellatrix eyed Pettigrew's wringing hands with disgust...

Voldemort's burning red eyes were looking down with approval. "Welcome to the fold..." he hissed, and pointed his wand at Snape's forearm...Harry felt the blinding pain and smelled the searing flesh as the Dark Mark was forever scored onto his skin—

There was a dull thud, and stars swam in front of Harry's eyes. He had to shake his head several times before he realized he was sitting on Snape's office floor, a collection of books and broken potion bottles around him.

"[I]Reparo[/I]" Snape muttered, and the potion bottles lept up, empty, and reformed themselves, and the shelves behind him magically repaired themselves.

Harry stood woozily up, his robes damp with Potion. He touched them gingerly. "Am I?..."

"Only Antitodes, Mr. Potter, I daresay you'll live," Snape said wearily. He sat down at his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Harry stood there awkwardly for a moment. He hadn't meant to do it – he hadn't wanted to do it. And he had the same terrible feeling writhing in his stomach he had the last time he saw Snape's memories. But Snape seemed to be reacting very differently this time.

Finally Snape stood up, and crossed to the locked cupboard. He took out the Pensieve, and again raised his wand to his temple, extracting more, and more and more memories from his head and placing them in the Pensieve. Finally, he took it back to the cupboard and locked it again.

"Clear your mind." Snape said robotically, "One...two...three..."

Harry tried to do as he was told, but all he could feel was deep, deep sorrow...

"[I]Leglimens![/I]"

Harry was walking down the corridor to the Department of Mysteries...

Then, walking down a corridor at Hogwarts...someone was shouting...someone he knew...he turned the corner and...

Cho was approaching him under the mistletoe...she was far too close...

But now Snape's office was swimming into view...he could see both Snape and Cho, as though two films were being projected one on top of the other.

"[I]Finite incantatem![/I]" Harry shouted, and the images stopped abruptly. He felt weak in the knees, his head was pounding, and his whole body was stiff and sore, but he had finally done it.

Snape said nothing, which Harry knew to mean that he could find nothing to complain about.

"You may go," Snape said, "You are to clear your mind every night. You should know by now how important it is."

Snape was avoiding his eye, as though he were far too busy to pay attention, but Harry felt he was making quite a production out of stacking the parchment on his desk. Hermione's stern glance played through his head.

"Sir...I—"

"You may [I]go,[/I] Potter!" shouted Snape, his eyes narrowed with hatred, and in the split second of eye contact, Harry heard Snape's voice in his mind:

"[I]Even after you're dead...[/I]"

And in his mind's eye, Harry saw his father smiling smugly, and felt a wave of humiliation and hatred.

Feeling two inches tall, Harry closed the door behind him.

After ducking into the Great Hall five minutes before the food was magically cleared, getting McGonagall's signature to book the Quidditch pitch, and narrowly avoiding a barrage of Dungbombs from Peeves, Harry was more than happy to be approaching the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked.

Harry's mind went blank.

"Oh, go on," he said wearily, "Don't you know me by now?"

"No password, no entry," she said, smiling wryly, "Rules are rules."

"I-i-i-i-it's N..n..."

Harry turned to see Arthur Aaronson trembling at his shoulder.

"N-n-n—"

"Arthur," Harry said exhaustedly, "Despite what you've probably heard, I am not about to murder you or hex you have a fainting spell or start speaking in snake language or even look at you crosswise. Do you know the password?"

"[I]Nebulus![/I]" he squeaked, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open.

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Arthur actually managed to smile back.

"You're w-welcome!"

Harry thought he heard a slight snigger from somewhere behind him. He wheeled around and checked the corridor, but didn't see anyone.

"Get out of it, Peeves!" he shouted, and waited for a response, but there was none. Shrugging it off, he followed Arthur Aaronson into the Gryffindor common room.

A roaring fire was blazing merrily, and Dean Thomas was shoving a marshmallow onto a toasting fork, to the amazement of a few first-years.

"It's a kind of Muggle sweet..." he was saying, "See, you let it catch fire, and then you eat the outside – that's the best way, at least...my best mate Seamus, he can't get enough of these thing..."

Ron was slouched on the couch, his feet up on the table and his head lolling backwards. Hermione was sitting across from him, her notebook open in her lap.

"[I]And?....[/I]" she said sternly.

"Hemlock...and....Ah, Hermione, my brain is fried, can't we do this later?"

"When, later?" Hermione snapped, "You have to write your essay later! And if you think – hello, Harry – and if you think I'm doing it for you –"

"Harry!" Ron said, clearly overjoyed to have a reason to leave off studying, "How'd it go?"

Harry told them everything that had happened during his Occlumency lesson, avoiding the part where he'd seen Snape's memories.

"Rotten, slimy git," Ron said sympathetically, "So when's Quidditch?"

"Oh," Harry said distractedly, "I'd better post it...I booked the pitch for Saturday...it's early in the morning though, Katie's not going to be pleased. Oh bugger, here she comes."

"Hello, Harry!" she said briskly, "Did you talk to McGonagall about the—"

"Yes," Harry said, "We've got it this Saturday from eight to eleven."

"Eight in the morning on a Saturday!" she said, arching her eyebrow, "I suppose Slytherin got to it first?"

"Here's an idea," Ron said, "Why don't [I]you[/I] be Quidditch captain, since you haven't got a hundred other things to do?"

"Don't think it hadn't occurred to me," Katie said delicately. There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Look, Harry," she said a little more warmly, "The whole team loves you. I mean, I do too – you're great. It's just that...well, it's my last year, and I really want to take the Cup...you know?"

"I know," Harry said, "I know. Don't worry...we'll get somebody great this Saturday."

"Like Sloper and Kirke?" she said, wincing.

"No," Harry said, "Like Ginny Weasley. Besides, Sloper and Kirke can be trained up. All we need is one more Chaser, and we're set. We've got you and Ginny, Ron...me," he added as an afterthought.

"We're a cinch," Ron said, grinning and ruffling his hair.

"Only if you've practiced over the summer," Katie said, playfully kicking his shin.

"Right," Harry said, taking out a quill and parchment, "I'll just write it down and post it on the board..."

When he walked over to the board, he was hard-pressed to find room – already the Gobstones club, Charms club, scribbled Lost and Found notes, and start-of-term notices had cluttered up the space. Harry moved some things around, and finally managed to tack the parchment on the very bottom – "Quidditch Tryouts, Saturday, 8-11. Need One Chaser, 2nd Year or Above."

Just as he was about to walk away though, something pink at the bottom right caught his eye.

"Weasley Wizarding Wheezes – Under Absolutely No Circumstances Should You Contact Us By Owl Order!"

Harry smiled, and continued to read the fliers. Arthur Aaronson had apparently lost his marbles...Harry reflected that someone had probably posted that as a joke. Hermione had re-posted her old S.P.E.W. manifesto, but it had already been partially buried by the Gobstones club.

Then noticed something else...it was tacked onto the board just next to the Weasley's flier, only about the size of an index card...and he recognized Hermione's neat print on it...

"D.A. General Interest Meeting. See Hermione."

Harry walked back over the couch...he felt a funny sensation of distance from the D.A. this year...the whole thing felt...off.

"I see you posted a flier," Harry said.

"Well, I never really expect anyone to join," Hermione said sadly, "It is such a shame. You would think that we could at least have the slightest respect for the people that wash our dirty laundry, put food on our table—"

"I meant about the D.A." Harry said.

"Oh," she said, "Right. Well, I figured we could use some new members, but I also wanted to make sure we knew who they were...this way they have to come to us first. Lupin thought it was a good idea."

"So when's the meeting?" Harry asked, feeling oddly out of the loop.

"There is none," she said waving her hand dismissively, "We'll just decide whether they're on the level or not, and then give them a coin...then they can start coming to regular meetings. Oh, I need a Quidditch practice schedule from you – I've already got one from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw...Slytherin wouldn't give me theirs," she said, rolling her eyes, "Had to get it from Madame Hooch."

"Well, of course not!" Ron said, "Why would you even need it? I mean, it's not like any Slytherins are going to join."

"You never know!" Hermione said defensively, "At any rate, I think we should stay open to the possibility! You know, the Sorting Hat—"

"Alright, alright," Ron said, "I'm sorry I said anything."

"It feels wrong," Harry said flat out, "I mean, to have...a flier..."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said thoughtfully, "But we do want new members...and I did leave it quite vague."

"Well, there's no real need to hide anymore, is there?" Ron asked, "I mean, Umbridge is gone, isn't she?"

"Ron, this is still serious business," Hermione said, "V..."

She glanced around the common room, and leaned in closer.

"You Know Who is still out there...and we still need to keep a low profile – last year, it was only Umbridge who managed to get a hold of the list. Could you imagine if Lord Voldemort had gotten hold of it?"

"Well, it's not like he's just going to pop into Hogwarts, snatch it out of our hands, and run off into the night," Ron said uncomfortably, "Do you really think he'd be able to find out somehow?"

They both suddenly looked at Harry, and looked away. There was an awkward pause.

"Well, we never thought Umbridge would get the list either. The point is," Hermione said, "We should keep a low profile regardless. Besides, I don't think we want everyone knowing about the Room of Requirement, anyway."

"Uhm—"

They all wheeled around, startled to find Broderick Johnson, Angelina's kid brother, standing behind the couch, along with Arthur Aaronson.

"We just...saw the notice," Broderick continued uncertainly, "For the D.A...And...we wanted to see you, Hermione."

The trio looked at each other, surprisedly.

"Do you...you do know what it is, right?" Harry asked.

"My older sister," Broderick said, "She told me all about it, and said I had to join if you were doing it again. So, I told Arthur and Etta about it."

"Etta?" Hermione asked with a slight note of panic, "As in, Julietta Edgecombe?"

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance.

"She's not...it's okay, she's alright," Broderick said hurriedly, looking very uncomfortable indeed, "I mean...it's not like Umbridge is still here or anything...she just heard us talking about it and said she might be interested."

This was met with a long silence in which Harry tried to guess what Ron and Hermione were thinking. It seemed they were also trying to gauge his opinion.

"So...er...can we...come to the meeting?"

"There is no meeting," Hermione said, "We'll be in touch."

"Oh," Broderick said, obviously disappointed, "Okay. Well...sorry to have wasted your time."

And he strode off, clearly a bit annoyed, with Arthur trailing anxiously behind him.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Broderick's alright," Hermione said, "But I can't believe he'd say all this where Etta could hear him..."

"Well, maybe he's right," Ron said, "I mean, Marietta's memory was wiped, right? All she remembers is the initial meeting?...maybe this girl...the Edgecombe girl..."

"Julietta...Remember?" Hermione said, "Really Ron, you are a Prefect..."

"I'll learn 'em eventually," he continued, "Anyway, maybe she just had no idea what the D.A. is, and heard Broderick talking, and wanted to do her part."

"Broderick's a definite yes," Harry said, after a moment, "But we should keep an eye on Etta. We can always let her in later."

"What about Aaronson?" Hermione asked, "He seems a bit shifty."

"He's alright," Harry said smiling, "He's just scared of his own shadow."

"Alright then. I'll make two more coins. But someone's got to tell Broderick to keep his mouth shut..."

"I elect you," Ron said, yawning as he closed his notebook.

"We're not done studying yet," Hermione said, but she was smiling.

"Oh yes we are. I can't even think."

"Well then, you can start your homework."

"Hermione, look," Ron said crossly, "I know you're trying to help me, and all—"

But Hermione was already standing and stretching.

"Relax, Ron. We'll have another go tomorrow."

"What got into you?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Long first day," Hermione said, nodding as though she'd just realized the truth of this, "And I think we've got enough to be going on with, don't you?"

Suddenly, Dean Thomas yelped and jumped back from the fireplace...the trio turned around to find the fire in the Gryffindor common room had just blazed bright green.