Authors Note: Insert your favorite disclaimer here, its not mine. On to the good stuff now...

Mind Games

Harry sat across from the beautiful vamp, nervous and shaky. It was one thing to match minds with the bat-like Snape; it was another thing entirely to match minds with a vampire. He could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up within him as he contemplated the thoughts that she could pull from his mind. He really did not want her to see some of the things he was currently thinking.

Illiana smirked as she watched Harry fidget nervously. She could see every thought and emotion cross his face, not even attempting to break into his mind. "Okay Harry, calm down." She smiled. "I'm not going to bite you."

He groaned at her pun, but relaxed despite himself. It was very hard to stay wary around such a vibrant charismatic person. She had all of the Dumbledore charm, and was beautiful to boot. "I didn't think you were able to perform Legilimency. Didn't you say that?"

"That's true. I am not a normal legilimens. However, I can teach you how to block it. I have my abilities to see into minds naturally. Unfortunately, I had to learn occlumency to protect myself from other vampires and wizard legilimens. You will learn well enough from me," she explained. "Now, tell me, what instruction did Professor Snape give you?"

"He just told me to clear my mind." Harry responded bitterly. "Didn't even tell me how."

Illiana nodded as if that were expected. "I am going to show you a different method. That method does work for some; however, I don't believe it will work for you. What I want you to do is to imagine a library."

A library?" Harry raised his eyebrow. "Why?"

"Trust me and just do as I say." She responded, smiling. "Imagine that every memory you have is a category in the library, every thought a book. I want you to take all of your secret thoughts and feelings and put them in a restricted section."

Harry furrowed his brow in concentration as a vision of Hogwart's library unfolded in his mind. He could see his thoughts categorized into aisles and books. The lurking restricted section at the back of the library held those of his thoughts he felt most at risk, like the prophecy. He walked the aisles, every now and then finding a book that he felt worked better in the restricted section. Soon he had an armload of books that he staggered with to the restricted section. The gates opened before him and he placed them in what he thought were logical places in the more private library.

"Now, Harry," he heard Illiana's voice from far away. "Once you have all your secrets in the restricted section, I want you to lock it. Padlock the gates, weld them shut, place a guard, do anything to keep those secrets away from the library."

Harry smiled as he imagined the gates into a giant steel door with a digital combination and retina scan lock. He was glad to see that all those spy movies Dudley watched were finally of value to him. He left his library with a mental image of a sleeping Fluffy to guard it.

He opened his eyes to a smiling Illiana. "Very good, Harry. I am going to attempt to find a secret now, just relax." He felt gentle probing, almost like whispers in his mind. They flickered through his surface thoughts, yet did not seem to get any further.

"Very good!" Illiana smiled broadly. "However, I would suggest that you also lock away any memories of Dudley's spy movies as well. Wouldn't want to give anyone a clue to your defenses. By the time we are done, all your thoughts, except the most mundane, like brushing your teeth, should be inside your restricted section. For now, however, I think we have done well enough. Continue moving all your thoughts before you go to bed. Once you have that mastered, I will show you how to build up a barrier to keep them out completely."

Thanks!" Harry grinned broadly. "It makes so much more sense this way. I'll work at it. When will you come back?"

I'll see you the day after tomorrow," She stood up, popping her back as she stretched. "Good night then."

Harry repeated the phrase and smiled goofily as she left. Leaning back in his chair, he was happy that things were finally starting to look up. Sighing he moved to straighten up the kitchen, his mind going over the lesson he had just received. He was very hopeful that Illiana's method would work better than Snape's had. He could already feel a marked difference. When working with Snape, Harry had always left with a splitting headache that made him feel weaker than he had before. Illiana's teachings made him feel strong and in control. It was a wonderful improvement.

Without thinking about it, he began to hum happily as he washed the few dishes in the sink, he couldn't actually remember the last time he had felt so carefree. He never noticed when his Uncle came behind him and reached for a teacup and began fixing himself tea. Harry later thought how typical it was for any calm emotion of his to be ruined by his family.

Vernon had watched the boy humming quietly as he worked before quietly reaching up a snagging a teacup from the cupboard while Harry was preoccupied. He fixed himself some tea and sat down to wait for the kettle to whistle, not really interested in provoking the boy in this place. Harry had, by now, noticed Vernon's arrival yet kept on cleaning. It seemed almost peaceful between them. If one who did not know the situation were to observe them, they would not see the taught string of tension that bound them.

When the kettle began whistling, Harry calmly removed the kettle from the heat and turned off the stovetop. He avoided eye contact with Vernon as he set the kettle on table, easily within his Uncle's grasp. He turned back to the dishes and busied himself with toweling off the wet flatware. He was wary anytime Vernon was this quiet. It was like the eye of the tornado. All of his instincts screamed at him to flee the room. Finally, he dried the last dish and moved toward the kitchen door. He never reached it.

Vernon began to take a sip of his scalding hot tea just as he watched the boy finish the last dish. He raised the delicate china to his lips and inhaled the soothing aroma of Darjeeling. It was then that the cup clamped porcelain teeth onto his nose. Vernon bellowed in outrage and then in pain as the scalding cup of coffee fell into his lap. He knew, knew, that the boy had something to do with this. "BOY!" His voice reverberated throughout the house, rousing Petunia and Dudley. "Look what you've done to me! You and your freakish friends!"

Harry attempted to squeeze out the door before Vernon could catch him. It was just his luck that Vernon would get one of the twin's nose biting teacups while he was in the room. All he wanted to do was escape as the burly man grabbed his collar and hauled him bodily back into the room. "I didn't do it," Harry gasped, stunned by the physical shock. "It wasn't my fault."

"Liar!" A purpling Vernon spun Harry around and pinned him to the wall, one meaty hand enclosing Harry's slender neck. "You have been nothing but a plague upon our family since your freak parents pissed off the wrong man. You have brought us nothing but misery!" Vernon squeezed Harry's throat.

Harry gasped and beat futilely at the raging man's hand. His air supply became shorter and shorter as Vernon squeezed harder. "Please…" Harry mouthed the words breathlessly as the hopelessness of the situation enclosed him and he thought longingly of Sirius. "Just…" Harry stopped as he was now dangling limply from Vernon's furious fist. "Kill me…."

"Beg me for you life boy! Your not worthy of the oxygen I breathe!" Vernon misinterpreted his plea.

"Let him go, Vernon!" Petunia was shocked and frightened. She fingered her bracelet worriedly as she walked into the explosive seen.

Vernon ignored her and squeezed tighter, smiling at the satisfying cracking noise that came from Harry.

Harry watched the world swim in front of him and smiled. He was going where people would care about him. As his vision melted into blackness, he frowned as he recognized a figure appear behind his uncle. Slipping into darkness, one word rang out and crushed Harry's hope.

"STUPIFY!" The spell shot at the bear like man's back and knocked him to the floor, leaving the teen's body to slide boneless down the wall. Severus Snape rushed to the prone teenager and began checking him over. He was not happy with what he found. "Some one will be here soon to take that man into custody," he spat the word at the sobbing woman in the corner. "I wouldn't touch him if I were you. Abusing a wizarding child is a very serious offense."

Petunia could only stare in shock as the potions master gathered the boy into his arms and headed into the living room. Without an incantation, he set a fire into the grate and tossed floo powder into the flames. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts!" he snarled, as he adjusted his grip on a slipping Harry. He didn't even let Dumbledore talk when he saw the headmaster's face. "Send Fawkes to Headquarters, NOW!" He yelled. Dumbledore merely nodded. In a flash of flame, Fawkes appeared next to the incensed man. "Take us to the Hogwart's infirmary!" He grabbed the phoenix's tail, and once more, flame filled the room.

Grimmauld Place retained a shaking woman, an unconscious man, a confused whale of a boy, and an ignored shrieking portrait.

Waking Dreams

"How is he, Severus?" Dumbledore asked the pacing man.

"His larynx is crushed and there is damage to his vertebrae. That Muggle just picked him up and broke him." Snape wrung his hands in agitation. "I never knew."

"Don't blame yourself," Dumbledore sighed, looking every bit of his age. "Harry concealed it well."

"You were right." Snape's voice was agonized. "You were both right. He is not his father. He wasn't breathing Albus."

Dumbledore nodded, as if this were expected. "What will you do now, Severus?" He watched as Pomfrey bustled around the infirmary, wand waving and implements floating around the room.

Snape sighed as he looked into the old man's eyes. "What I must. What we all must."

Dumbledore smiled. "Very well," he turned his gaze back upon the healer. "What have you to report?"

Madame Pomfrey smiled grimly at the headmaster. "He's doing fine. I have healed the bones and repaired the tissue. He'll have some residual bruising for a bit, and a raspy voice, but other than that, there will be no lingering effects."

"Except for emotionally," Dumbledore looked at the sleeping boy. "You never have it easy, do you Harry?"

Harry awoke days later to the sight of a smiling potions professor. Harry was terrified. "How are you feeling, Potter?"

"Ummm, okay?" Harry croaked weakly. "Why are you here, sir?"

Snape frowned, wanting to lash out at the boy, restraining himself with effort. "I wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was touch and go there with you for awhile."

"Pardon my rudeness, Professor," Harry regarded Snape with suspicious eyes. "But why do you care. I would think that my death would please you."

"You know nothing about me, Potter." Snape seethed inwardly. "I do not derive pleasure from the pain of others. Why did you never tell anyone the extent of the abuse?"

Harry snorted. "Could have fooled me. As for never telling. Don't you think I tried? It isn't as if you would listen. You have hated me since the first moment you saw me. Dumbledore knows that they have locked me up and mistreated me, yet still he sends me back every summer. Even you have ignored what you have seen in my own mind. You can't blame this on me." Harry smiled ruefully.

Snape regarded the boy with cold eyes. "Very well. You need your rest. I will leave you. You are, of course, correct. I do not suppose I ever did give you a fair chance. Shall we start over then? If, by some miracle you manage to make it into my Advanced Potions class, I will not treat you differently than any other student. I owe you that much."

Harry waited for the catch. When nothing more was forthcoming from the stoic man, he nodded hesitantly. "Thank you, I would like that."

Snape nodded uneasily and left the room without speaking. Harry rolled his eyes. Snape might feel guilty for now, but he was still Snape.

The days passed by, the Weasleys had paid Harry a visit in the infirmary twice. They had been unusually subdued, due to the nature of his injuries. Mrs. Weasley had sobbed when she had seen him, but had not actually said anything. No one knew what to say in this kind of a situation. Ron, clueless as always, had merely patted Mrs. Weasley on the back awkwardly. Very awkwardly. Harry had felt a guilty sort of relief when they left.

Illiana had visited every night; Harry was surprised until she let him know why. Madame Pomfrey had been furious that the woman had Harry working on occlumency while still under treatment, yet Dumbledore insisted. After three nights, Harry finally felt a little relief from the constant ache of his scar. Overall, Harry felt as though his entire hospital stay was a bit like a dream. When Harry was finally released, he was more than a little lost. He knew he would not be returning to Grimmauld Place while the Dursley's were still in residence. Surprisingly, he had Snape to thank for that. More of his guilt complex at work. Harry found himself in a spare bedroom close to the teacher's wing of the school. It was spacious and had a great view of the Forbidden Forest. Harry was happy there. It felt like home.

Spirited Away

It was two weeks since the attack on Privet Drive. Harry found himself wandering around the grounds, lost in thought. After a midnight tea party with Headmaster Dumbledore, (the man really was quite mad), Harry learned of the fate of his uncle. Apparently, Vernon had not been tried in the courts. Lupin, though seemingly mild mannered, had went berserk upon hearing on the detestable man's actions. Vernon was currently being treated in the same wing of St. Mungo's that Gilderoy Lockhart resided in. Nobody bothered to press charges against Lupin, not even Petunia Dursley. Luckily, Dudley had not been in the room when Lupin had found the still unconscious form of Vernon Dursley.

Thoughts of Petunia did occupy Harry's mind, yet that wasn't the only thing he worried about now. Sirius's death and thoughts of the prophecy plagued him much more. He had finally given up on the thought of Sirius coming back. The Daily Prophet finally convinced him that Sirius was truly gone. In a recent Death Eater attack in Marlborough, an off duty Auror had been the first to spot the masked wizards near a local historical sight. The Auror had called in to report the attack. Nearly a dozen trained Aurors had recognized Peter Pettigrew during the attack. With the reported sighting of the dead man, the minister had reluctantly granted Sirius with a post-humous pardon. Harry was more than a little bitter. Sirius was finally cleared, and he would never know.

It was these thoughts that brought Harry out onto the Hogwart's grounds, wandering in contemplation. To be safe, he carried both of his wands with him. Honestly though, he just enjoyed holding his new wand. It was quite beautiful and he felt safer carrying it. It seemed almost made for him. Here on school grounds, he was allowed to perform magic, yet had been nervous to test his new wand. He rambled around the lake, gazing at it. Its dark red wood seemed stained with history. He wondered who had owned it, used it, before he had.

"Twas Godric Gryffindor's wand, though it was made for you." The voice floated on the breeze, answering the question he hadn't asked.

Harry looked around him wildly, not seeing anyone near him. He spun around, crouched low in a position of defense, both wands at the ready, his original wand in his right hand, and his new wand in his left. Power thrummed through him as both wands sang to his blood. "Where are you?" He growled.

Tinkling laughter reached his ears. "You are quite powerful," the voice seemed to smile. "Emrys was right about you. I am behind you."

Harry spun back around, facing the lake with confused wariness. He saw nothing but the rippling water. His eyes widening as the water began to lap quickly against the shore as some apparition began to emerge from the waves. Before his eyes, air and water coalesced into the stunning image of a woman. Her body seemed garbed in water as her gauzy blue dress flowed and rippled around her with the wind. Long midnight hair flowed about her fluidly, flowing across porcelain flesh and framing emerald eyes.

"Who are you?" Harry's breathe caught in his throat at the vision before him.

"I have many names, though you may call me Nimue." Her voice rang musically, like wind chimes in a breeze. "Come, dear knight, I have much to teach you." She reached for him, her arms seeming to clasp around him, though she still stood over the lake's water.

Harry felt himself being pulled at and struggled in vain. It was as if the wind had lifted him and pulled him to the middle of the lake, and soon he was sinking fast into its depths. His last sight was of the horrified face of Dumbledore racing toward him from across the schools grounds before the water closed over his head.

Author's note again: Thanks to fhippogriff, harm marie, azntgr01, eskaybe4, and charmedsisters for the reviews. This story is finally starting to take off. I have enjoyed looking through my stats and seeing all you wonderful people who have added me to your favorites list. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Now that all the groundwork is layed out, hopefully this story will move and update a lot quicker. I have been thinking about starting a yahoo group for this but haven't made up my mind yet. If I do, I'll be able to upload some artwork for it. If you think this is a good idea, leave me a review, either yay or nay. I have a rough sketch of Illiana's character done and I am thinking of drawing Nimue. Questions and comments are always appreciated and I will answer them in a timely manner if not when I update. Thanks again for reading.

Imbrium