Something stirred in the depths of Harry's slumbering mind. It slid through his subconscious, leaving tiny trails behind itself.

It seemed to reach a barrier, making it interrupt its searching journey. The…thought, for want of a better word, swelled, feeding off the power which formed the barrier, before breaking through the weakened obstruction. The thought continued on its way, the trail it was leaving drifting up through Harry's mind.

If anyone had been watching the sleeping boy closely, they would have noticed his lips move to form a word.

"Mine."

Ron had not moved since Dumbledore had asked his question, but now the portraits were beginning to give him strange looks. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"I…um…I knew, I mean I've known since the train journey here. He was kind of forced to show us. By Hermione."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Of course, Miss Granger would have had no problem finding out I am sure." he sighed. " Mr. Weasley, did you notice the mark before Harry revealed it to you?"

Ron thought back. Harry had kept his arms well covered, despite the sweltering heat at the end of summer, but he could not remember seeing anything the few times Harry had not worn sleeves.

"No sir, and I am sure I would have noticed." he said, not quite sure where this was going.

"So, it worked to an extent." Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "I do believe Voldemort-" Ron flinched "-underestimates me! And also Miss Granger's detective abilities. Very well. Now, about this dream he had, do you have any idea what could have been involved in it?"

Ron shook his head. It had been more a case of punch now, ask later in order to stop that curse.

"It is my belief, Mr. Weasley, that the mark provides a link with the Dark Lord himself. A little like Harry's scar, but it allows Voldemort access to possess Harry."

Ron stood up involuntarily.

"You mean V…V…You-Know-Who was in our room last night? In Harry? Why didn't he do anything to us?"

"Please seat yourself Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said softly, and Ron did what he was bid. "It is my belief that Voldemort is trying to torment Harry, which he could then, of course, use to his advantage, as Harry would no longer fulfil the prophecy." Ron looked up sharply, but Dumbledore continued as if he had noticed nothing. "It is a problem that we will have to deal with very quickly, within the next two weeks, I would say. Now, perhaps you should go and have an early breakfast, seeing as it is hardly worth going back to bed." he said, his eyes twinkling at Ron, who was completely dumbstruck by the news.

He left the room after Dumbledore's bidding, and set off for the Great Hall, vowing to have a serious talk with Harry once he had eaten. What had the prophecy to do with anything?

Harry was released from the Hospital wing once lessons were over for the day, and he was in the Common Room when Ron returned, unaccompanied.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Harry noticed his friend looked serious as he walked with him up to their dormitory. He turned to face Ron knowing what he was about to ask.

"Three guesses what this is about." Harry said lightly, trying to avoid the humourless expression on Ron's face.

"Are you feeling better?" Ron asked.

"Much. A curse does absolutely wonders you know."

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Harry, I was only asking." Ron returned sharply. His friend simply rolled his eyes. "I spoke to Dumbledore this morning before breakfast, when you were still out of it. He mentioned something about the prophecy and how you couldn't fulfil it if you were not Voldemort's equal." Harry was definitely avoiding his gaze now. "Care to explain?"

"Not really." and Ron saw something on Harry's face which he had never seen before. A sneer. "I'm sure Dumbledore would explain if you asked him nicely. Actually, I'm sure he would be perfectly happy to divulge any of my secrets at a hint." Harry finished, his face distorted in such a cruel glare that he looked completely different.

"What is wrong with you?" Ron was more worried than angry now.

"Nothing's bloody wrong with me!" Harry spat. "It's every other bloody person in this place who thinks they have a right to tell the world my secrets, yet keep me in the dark. It's me who's getting the nightmares; me who has to cope with this. And do you know what Dumbledore is afraid of? How to keep his precious weapon safe. That's all I am! A bloody WEAPON!"

Ron stepped back in alarm. What had he unleashed here? Harry looked more bitter and angry than Ron had ever seen him, even last year in the aftermath of Diggory's death. Harry flung himself onto the bed, and, to round it all off, started to cry.

Ron awkwardly sat down beside him in an attempt to pacify the disillusioned boy.

"Is that what the prophecy said then?" he said tentatively. A muffled "yes." was heard.

"But you're not, though, are you? Just a weapon I mean." Harry looked up savagely and Ron hastily continued. "You mean something to all of us too. We all like you for who you are, not what you can do. Like me, Hermione, Mum, Ginny, Remus…I could go on."

The expression on Harry's face softened at Ron's surprisingly astute words, but the tears, if anything, seemed to flow faster. This was getting uncomfortable. Harry never cried.

"I know. It's just, no one ever seems to stop and ask how I feel." he said, trying in vain to stem the fall of tears. "They never stop to ask if I want any of this, and believe me, I don't. You know, I don't even know which thoughts are mine any more. Or even whether I'm lashing out at my friends or whether…something else is." Ron looked at his stricken friend, and could not think of anything to say. The thought that what was talking might not be all Harry, well, it made him shiver in fear. But Ron resolved to be strong for Harry, and to tell Hermione at the soonest possible chance. They were all in this together, not just Harry.

The days turned into weeks after the initial excitement of the beginning of term, and November came crisp and clear, bringing with it the first Quidditch match of the season. In between Occulmency lessons, D.A. meetings (which, with the help of the teachers turned out to be far easier than Harry had ever anticipated,) and the piles of homework now being assigned to the Sixth years, Harry had somehow found time to attend Quidditch practices. The new team was certainly gaining a whole new shape, becoming tighter, faster and altogether far better than the previous year.

The new chaser was absolutely superb, and Harry had watched her fly with something approaching awe many times. However, she was unbelievably shy, and visibly scared of Harry, barely talking and seemingly unable to look at him. It broke the closeness of the group somehow.

Ginny was also shaping up well in her new position, and Ron had definitely done some practice over the summer. Now much more confident in his role of goalkeeper, he had not let a single quaffle past him in practice. But it was time to prove that he could do the same in a match. In their first match against Hufflepuff to be precise.

The first Saturday of November dawned bright and cold, and found the Gryffindor team in the Great Hall very early. Silence reigned as they each contemplated their roles in the upcoming game, and, once they had all finished, they set off for the Qudditch pitch to try out some last minute tactics. Harry was particularly quiet, and Ron knew exactly why.

"What was it about last night, mate?" said Ron, casting a sideways glance at the dark haired boy. He was referring to a particularly violent dream, in which Harry had thrashed around for a considerable amount of time before finally settling down. Ron was the only one who had not been able to sleep through it.

Harry shrugged as they approached the pitch.

"It's the same as the last few bad ones I've had. I can't remember the exact dream, just an overwhelming feeling of darkness, and pain and," Harry looked a little sheepish, "mine."

Ron didn't even react to this strange sentence any more. It was exactly the same as the last few restless nights which he had asked Harry about.

"Do you think it's-"

"Voldemort possessing me?" Harry cut in, ignoring Ron's flinch. "Possibly. I can't tell any more can I?" he said bitterly, gathering his robes from the bench inside the changing rooms and slipping them on over his head. "Dumbledore keeps telling me the same thing. 'Shut it out, Harry. Clear your mind.'" he mimicked. " but it's as if this is already in my mind. If you understand what I mean."

Ron nodded slowly, and truthfully, for he really did know what Harry meant. And it sounded much like what Ginny had said about being possessed by Voldemort at the end of their second year. His thoughts were cut off by Katie Bell clearing her throat.

"Right team, this year, we're going to do better than ever before-"

"-We won the cup last year, what more does she want?" whispered Ginny, quite audibly. Katie shot her a death glare.

"As I was saying! This year, we will win the cup by a greater gap in points. I don't want any of this not knowing until the last goal. We are going to do it!"

Jack Sloper gave a cough which sounded remarkably like 'Angelina' but Katie chose to ignore this interruption.

"Harry, give us time to build up points before you catch the Snitch, unless the situation's getting dire. As in, they are winning by more points than we can hope to get back." Harry nodded at the words he had heard during every practice since the first week.

"Chasers, just stay in the close formation like we have been practising and we'll be fine. Beaters, you have been doing a good job, but we need to have our paths clear. And Ron, well done. For heavens' sake, keep it up though." It was Ron's turn to glare.

The noise from outside the changing rooms was getting much louder as the rest of the school filed onto the pitch. Snatches of 'Weasley is our King' could be heard, but this time sung by the warmer tones of the Gryffindors. In fact, all Slytherin voices seemed to be silent, and there had been no usual taunting in the run up to this match. They were definitely up to something.

Harry stepped on to the pitch, swung himself onto his broom and took up his place in formation with the rest of the team. A strange light heartedness had come over him. Up here, in the air, it felt like nothing mattered anymore; Voldemort did not exist, no one had died. All that mattered now was the game, and, eventually, the cup. It was absolute bliss.

The team worked seamlessly together, the chasers scoring goal after goal, the beaters deflecting any bludger that even hinted of going near a Gryffindor player. Ron flew lazily around his posts; the Hufflepuffs hadn't been near his end in the last twenty minutes. As Harry circled the pitch like a hawk, keeping his eyes peeled for the tiny Golden Snitch, more to distract his opposing seeker rather than actually catch it, he felt the usual rush of exhilaration that he felt during a game. There was a wave of sound from the spectators as Ginny shot yet another incredible goal, and Harry could hear Seamus' voice over the roar announcing the new score of 90-0 to Gryffindor.

'He's not nearly as good as Lee Jordan was.' Harry thought wistfully.

Ten seconds later they scored another goal.

Harry began to focus more closely on searching for the Snitch. Now, with a 100 point lead, was the time to end the game. The Hufflepuff seeker, Julian Summerby, was flying around aimlessly, obviously looking for the Snitch, but not having much success.

And then, Harry saw it. Or rather saw Ron trying to wave subtly at him as the tiny winged ball fluttered in and out of one of the hoops. Harry put on a huge burst of speed, praying that Summerby wouldn't see where he was heading. He was closer, but Harry had the faster broom, and was already in motion. And suddenly he was there, hand curling around the Snitch. But in the euphoria of getting there so quickly, he forgot to stop the broom, and as it hit the post he was catapulted right through the central Hufflepuff goalpost. The counter showing the scores flicked to ten for the Hufflepuff team, and two hundred and eighty for the Gryffindors.

Harry was falling, falling, the ground rushing up to meet him. Before he smashed into the ground though, he felt himself slowing down, coming to a halt just above the grass of the pitch and then sinking down onto the earthy surface.

I can't have you leaving my service that easily. Something hissed inside his head.

Harry froze. He was here. He was back inside his head. Voldemort was in his head. Panic surged up inside him, but Harry forced himself to maintain an outwards appearance of calm as Madam Hooch landed beside him, and his team mates raced up to him.

"What was all that about Mr. Potter?"

"Bloody hell, Harry! That was the funniest catch since-"

"Are you sure you're-"

"Katie will not be please with those points you gave-"

"That'll go down in history mate!"

The words washed over Harry. Meaningless, unintelligible babble. Dumbledore had been warning him about closing his mind before large emotional times and now this...

He was being jostled by red and gold clothed people, looked over by Madam Pomfrey, taken up to the Gryffindor common room, given a bottle of celebratory Butterbeer and clapped on the back a hundred times over. But it was as if this was all happening to someone else. All he could focus on was the hissing voice in the back of his mind.

Had Voldemort really penetrated past the defences he had constructed, and which Dumbledore had constructed around him? Or was he already there. Was he now trapped inside Harry's head. Or a part of him at least.

Harry was suddenly dragged off to one side and found himself looking into the anxious brown eyes of Hermione. Ron hovered behind her.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she said, her grip on his arm tightening. "You haven't said a word since the game. What has he done to you?"

Harry looked at Ron momentarily, wondering how much he had told Hermione. Correctly guessing that Ron had told her everything, he turned back to Hermione.

"Voldemort is in my head. Trapped in my head. And he saved me from dying in the match, saying it was 'too easy a death'" Harry affected a cold high voice, that so closely mimicked that of Voldemort's that Hermione and Ron took an involuntary step backwards.

"But how-" Hermione started, but was cut off quickly by Ron.

"He left some of himself in you after that first night here. Dumbledore guessed some of that might happen."

Harry nodded slowly at the explanation. There was a fear in his eyes which neither of his friends had seen before as he uttered next statement.

"He's going to bring me back."

A/N: sorry about the slow update. Was at TBS and Greenday last week, and what with school work and being at school all last weekend, I haven't had much time to write.

A huge thank you to all my reviewers, it's too late to do special mentions to you all. Well…just a few then.

Dr Rubadinghy: don't bring our devised piece into my fanfiction. That would be unbearable beyond words.

HoshiHikari: Dumbledore knows everything…hehe

And fippets, keep the long reviews. You do them so well:)

To the rest of you, I love you all! Now you know the drill, read, enjoy, review.

JMxx