There were candles burning in the brackets. The room was familiar somehow, large, with a very high ceiling. Despite the seeming lack of candles, the room was very bright, so bright that the light hurt Harry's eyes after the soft blackness of his dormitory.

He looked about himself. Harry was surrounded by hooded people- 'Servants.' he thought dismissively-and they all looked strangely familiar. In fact, the entire circle reminded him of something. This did not have the usual unreal quality of his dreams. This was very real, like when he dreamed of Voldemort. Harry froze as something clicked into place in his brain, and heard a high pitched coming from somewhere. It took him a while to realise it was coming from his own mouth…except it wasn't his own mouth was it? He was once again in Voldemort's body, and this time he knew he was not undetected. He could feel Voldemort…watching him almost? But that wasn't quite right either. But his…no, the Dark Lord knew what was happening.

There was a veiled object in front of Harry, or rather, in front of Voldemort's body. He motioned two people forward to uncover it, and they ran to do his bidding. As the cover slipped off, Harry recoiled in disgust. In front of him was a large ornate mirror, and for the first time, he could see himself in Voldemort's body. The hideous reality of this sunk in. this was not a dream, this was another plan of Voldemort. He had called Harry here, and now he was in Harry's mind, and Harry was in his body. The expression of horror on Voldemort's face as Harry realised all this made it look even more grotesque that its usual evil sneer.

Then Harry noticed that the reflection in the mirror seemed to be flickering, distorting itself into something else. It grew darker, no longer mirroring Voldemort's face and the room in which Harry was standing, but growing smaller. Was it a bed chamber? No, it was his dormitory at Hogwarts. 'Oh God.' he thought fearfully, 'What's he going to do now?' Harry could just make out beds, but the curtains around them were drawn so he could not see if anyone was within. It was then that Harry discerned that one of the beds did not have it's curtains drawn, and in that bed was…Harry.

"My body!" Harry shrieked in Voldemort's foul high voice. "He's in my body!" and around him, the hooded figures laughed.

The green eyes that Harry knew to be his own, yet now seemed so unlike his own flashed at him as the…creature looked up. Voldemort was looking out of those eyes, directly at Harry. He knew the boy would be watching. He bared his teeth in a vile imitation of a smile, and took up Harry's wand from the table beside his bed. Voldemort raised his arm, pointed the wand at himself, and uttered just one word.

"Crucio."

Harry awoke to not only a searing pain in his scar, but to his body on fire. He could not stop screaming, nor, he realised, move his wand away from where it was angled towards his body. The more he writhed with the burning pain, the tighter he gripped his wand, and the more power seemed to be going into the spell which was coursing out of its tip. The pain was so great, he could not think, or move. He just continued to emit the ghastly scream of pain and terror.

That's was when Ron woke up, along with the rest of the boys.

He wrenched back the curtains, and at first thought he was still asleep as he saw the sight before him. Harry was performing the Cruciatus curse on himself. Harry was convulsing, the beam of light coming out of the wand-tip waxing and waning with each jerk. Ron tried to wrench Harry's arm away from him, but it was like wrestling a statue; he would not budge. So Ron did the next thing that came into his head. He drew back his own arm, and punched Harry in the jaw so hard he thought he could hear his knuckles break.

Thankfully Harry reeled back into unconsciousness, and the spell stopped.

"Help me get him to the Hospital wing!" Ron practically yelled at Dean and Seamus. He cradled his hand, and looked sharply at Neville, who, it appeared, could not stop shaking.

"And get Dumbledore." Ron turned away, and so did not see the effort with which Neville pulled himself back together now that he had a mission. He scurried past Ron, and clattered down the stairs, as he ran to fetch the Headmaster.


Harry was starting to come round by the time they reached Madam Pomfrey. She bustled out of her office and exclaimed her shock as she saw the two boys carrying Harry, and Ron with a bleeding, obviously broken hand.

"Fighting?" She asked as she prepared a bed and then laid Harry down on top of it.

"Dreaming." Ron replied shortly, cradling his hand, knowing that the pain he was feeling was nothing to what Harry had been feeling only a handful of minutes ago. "I think he had another…vision or something." Madam Pomfrey nodded to show she understood. "He was performing the Cruciatus curse on himself when I woke up. Or rather, I was woken up by his screams." Ron sank into a chair, and waited as the motherly woman checked Harry over. She had barely responded to what he had said, other than making her examination more thorough. She finally looked up.

"He will recover. There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage. Ah, Headmaster."

Ron looked round as Dumbledore walked over to where Harry was lying, looking more serious that Ron had ever seen him. He also examined Harry minutely before turning to Ron.

"Would you please come with me, Mr. Weasley?" However his request was overridden by Madam Pomfrey, who had remembered Ron's hand.

"His hand is broken, Professor." she said firmly. "I will send him along once it is healed." And Ron was amazed to see Dumbledore bow his head gracefully at her words.

"Of course, Poppy. I would not like him bleeding all over my study." And Dumbledore left the room.

'He winked! He winked at me!" Ron thought in a state of shock, hardly noticing what Madam Pomfrey was doing with his hand. He cast a worried glance at Harry, but it seemed that she had given him a sleeping draught as soon as he had started to stir. She noticed where Ron was looking and answered his silent question for him.

"He will heal better if he rests, and I have made sure he will not be…disturbed in any way."

This was good enough for Ron. If he was protected from You - Know - Who, then he could speak with Dumbledore, for a few minutes at least.

"Now off you trot, and the password is Acid Drop."

Ron nodded to show he had heard, before hurrying out of the room. On the way to Dumbledore's office, he marvelled at the unblemished skin on his knuckles which had been split not twenty minutes ago. If she could heal Harry up half as well, which she had many time, he reminded himself, it may not be quite so bad.

He approached the statue in front of Dumbledore's office and said "Acid Drop." rather uncertainly, wondering if he had heard correctly. But the statue sprang aside and Ron was able to step through onto the moving staircase. The door to the office was open as he stumbled off the top step, and he could see Fawkes through the open door. Aside from the bird, however, the room was completely. He hesitantly stepped inside, trying not to stare at any thing too hard. Whispers from the portraits and the rustle of Fawkes' feathers were the only sounds, until one elderly looking portrait stood up.

"You would be here to see the Headmaster I presume?" Ron nodded mutely, not entirely sure how else he should respond. "Very well." the old wizard vanished from the picture, and Dumbledore entered a moment later.

He motioned to Ron to sit down, and before sitting down himself behind his desk. He looked at the boy over the tips of his steepled fingers. Ron expected him to ask about what had happened, or perhaps how Harry had been recently. But the question that was posed for him took him completely by surprise.

"How long have you known about Harry's Dark Mark?"


A/N: a little bit of action to keep you guys happy. I do kinda get carried away with exploring the characters, and this story Is going to take place throughout the school year, so it will be pretty long. It will speed up after this chapter. I promise.

Thank yous:

Odders and Hoshi: thanks again

Dr Rubadinghy: ta me dear, but no, no romance. Just Ron tripping up over his sentences. Again.

Lady Apolla: as you can see…

Circe: thanks deary, and you are a brill writer (go check out fated, bloody fantastic!)

Chibbers: here's another button for you. Yay! And all your other reviews were lovely.

CPegasus: you may be getting points in the near future…but that remains to be seen.

Taurus07: oh I'm so naughty aren't I? and look! Another lovely cliffy for you to shout about. And is this a big enough attack for you? There will be lots more in the future, but the poor boy has to have a rest sometime.

And of course, Fippets gets special mention again. For possibly the longest review ever!