Thanks so much for all the reviews and keep them coming! The past few weeks have been hectic. I had a week of standerdized testing, and two 26 page projects due. I also just found out my ancient civilization teacher is on suspension for having sexual relations with a student. So in the mist of the crazieness I'm only finished up to chapter 8. I hope to get chapter 9 done this week so i can stay ahead of you, but i am leaving for Vegas on Sunday. Enough of my blabering, hope you like the chapter! Please Read and Review!

Harry was sure someone was channeling spirits tonight, for that could be the only explanation. When Harry stared at Ron, he was frightfully aware that there was no way he could be staring at Ron, because the face of Oliver Wood kept fading in and out of Ron's features.

It was drawing closer and closer to ten, and they were still running the newly formed Quidditch team through the ropes. It was their first official practice, but no one would ever believe it. They had been practicing since four o'clock this evening. Running drills like he had never done before in his life.

It was Harry's idea to get everyone on the team to be able to predict one another's moves after all a team was only as good as the member's understanding of one another. It was Ron's idea to reach this goal in one night. As exhausted as Harry was, he was oddly proud of Ron.

He had never seen anyone get a team together so efficiently. When everyone worked together in the drills and practice runs, Harry would forget that half of the members were new. They were original in their own way though. The team in his first year was talented individually and used that to build from.

This team on the other hand worked brilliantly together, despite the lack of perfection individually. What one person didn't have another made up for. From Harry's high vantage point, he could see someone walking up to the Quidditch Pitch. He didn't need to wonder who was approaching much longer.

"POTTER! GET YOUR TEAM INSIDE BEFORE CURFEW, THIS VERY INSTANT!" Well that was not a very happy McGonagall. The team didn't need to be told twice, they were already on the ground and sprinting to the castle.

Harry met Ron on the ground, and they walked back up to the school with their brooms over their shoulders.

Ron looked at the other members running through the doors, "Well, looks like they got their energy back, and here they were whining about doing the drills again." Harry rolled his eyes humorously.

Ron stepped through the threshold of the portrait hole and watched as Harry collapsed on the couch in exhaustion. He should have realized he was pushing Harry too hard. Ron took a seat in an armchair and pulled out his books. His eyes were drawn to Hermione trotting down the girls' staircase, arms filled to the brim with books and rolls of parchment.

She dropped her things on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor. She glanced up at him; he was fascinated with how her hair seemed to glow in the firelight.

"Oh good," Hermione said Ron was snapped out of his daze, "I see you've got your books out," Ron groaned in the affirmative. "Shouldn't we wake Harry up?"

Ron glanced at his best friend, whose head was leaning on the back of the couch. "Naw, let him sleep."

Hermione glanced at Harry and seemed to nod to herself; she promptly went to work. After about another fifteen minutes of work Ron was startled away from his paper when he saw Harry crash his shoulder into the arm of the couch.

He jerked awake, and grabbed his arm. Hermione was staring up at him

"Are you alright Harry," she asked.

"Huh," he looked at her bleary eyed, "oh, yeah I'm fine. Just couldn't get comfortable."

Harry slid down the sofa and onto the floor. He blearily rubbed his eyes, "What are we working on?"

"Charms essay," Ron mumbled. He reached into his bag, pulled out some parchment, and dipped his quill in Hermione's ink well. He watched as the black ink dripped on the blank parchment. The parchment was as blank as his mind.

A half hour later he'd only written a paragraph, and a rather sloppy one at that. Hermione and Ron were packing up their stuff, and were bidding him good night.

"Do you want us to stay down with you, mate?" asked Ron.

"Naw, I'll be up in a few."

"Don't stay up too late Harry," Hermione admonished. Harry waved his hand in agreement. He only wished he had heeded her warning. It was three o' clock by the time Harry had finished his essay and drug himself to bed.

Once in bed, he had a difficult time of falling asleep again. It figures the one time he gets a decent nap he screwed it up by bruising his arm more. After another half hour of changing positions he decided it was time to deal with this.

He pulled back the curtains surrounding his bed and tip toed to Ron's bed. Ron's arm was hanging out of curtains, and his mouth was hanging open. Harry chuckled at the mayhem that was a sleeping Ron Weasley and roughly shook him awake. There was no use in being gentle, which never worked with Ron, anyway.

After a few more shoves, Ron snorted and shot up. He looked around blearily for a moment, and then focused on Harry.

"Whatcha' doin' Harry? What's wrong?" Harry suddenly felt very stupid.

"Nothings wrong, could you just help me with something?"

Ron seemed to become a bit more aware, and looked at Harry with worry in his eyes. "Yeah, sure." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and watched as Harry rummaged in his trunk. He pulled out a book.

"Grab your wand will you?" Harry asked. Ron snatched his wand off the bedside table and followed Harry into the bathroom. He blinked in the luminescent light flooding the bathroom.

"What's going on Harry?" Ron asked.

"I uh," he hesitated, "I need you to help me with a healing charm." Ron blinked in surprise.

"Um, okay. Isn't Hermione better for this sort of thing?"

"No," Harry snapped, "You know I don't want anyone else involved in this."

Ron put up his hands in submission, "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

Harry looked down at the healing book he'd gotten from the library. "It's just a numbing spell, won't last very long though. Looks pretty easy. Just tap the area with your wand and say torpeo."

Ron looked hesitant but nodded and took the book from Harry. He was still studying it when Harry took off his nightshirt. Ron looked up from the book and gasped, Harry looked at the floor. He knew his bruises were bad, but had grown used to them over the summer, and wasn't sure how they would look to an outsider.

Harry knew Ron was horrified, but he was trying to hide it, and Harry appreciated the effort. Harry turned away from him and felt Ron perform the charm on his arm and several places on his back.

When he was finished, Harry pulled his shirt back on as quickly as possible. Ron handed him the book. Harry studied its cover; he felt the back of his neck heat up.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem," said Ron, "Now lets get back to bed, I'm bushed."

Sunday morning Harry woke up at seven feeling as refreshed as someone could who had only gotten three hours sleep. He met Hermione and Ron at breakfast. His head felt heavy enough to fall into the bowl of marmalade, so he helped himself to a cup of coffee, black.

"Harry I don't know how you can drink that stuff," Hermione said, "It's horrible for you."

"Yeah well so is frying your head on waffles, when my head collapses to the table." Hermione tutted.

He silently thanked Ron for changing the subject, "So are we going down to Hagrid's?" Hermione nodded and set down her tea.

"Ready when you are," she said. Harry stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth and walked out into the courtyard.

He stared mesmerized as Hagrid poured tea into his large brandy cup.

"You alright there 'Arry?" Harry's head snapped up to look into Hagrid's worried eyes.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night," he said.

"Yeh best be takin' better care of yer self 'Arry," Hagrid reprimanded, "Yeh'll need to be on 'ur toes in the lessons I got comin' up." This didn't put the trio at ease in anyway. "Care fer a toffee? Made 'em me self." Harry smiled and shook his head. Hermione couldn't refuse and Harry saw her slip it in her pocket.

The rest of the visit was fairly uneventful. They chatted about how Ron thought Bill was adjusting to teaching at the school, and of course complained about Snape and Malfoy. Hagrid was surprisingly tolerant of the Snape bashing. He usually tried to defend Snape in someway, but Hagrid was unusually silent.

Harry zoned out for a moment and thought about the last time he had visited Hagrid in his cabin. He was so angry, he was still angry, so much had changed, things were still changing . . . Stop it, just stop thinking. He found that fairly simple in the state his mind was in.

They stayed with Hagrid about an hour passed lunch, and finally managed to excuse themselves, "to do some studying". It was no offence to Hagrid, but they were starving, and needed to get some food.

By the time they got back in the castle lunch had already ended. "Reckon we should go down to the kitchens?" Ron asked. Harry looked at Hermione and she shrugged despite the inner battle Harry knew was going on in her mind.

They traveled down the wide, brightly lit corridor and stood at the painting of the bowl of fruit. Harry extended his index finger and gently tickled the large pear. The oblong fruit squirmed, and the picture swung open.

Harry however never caught sight of the kitchen, for something had hurled itself at his legs. He looked down and saw Dobby, not to anyone present's surprise. Harry was surprised though to realize that he was not in fact being greeted, but rather shoved out of the kitchens.

"Dobby, what are you doing?" Harry asked the elf. He tried peeling the creature off his legs. Harry saw that the painting was still partially opened. Hermione was starring at Dobby curiously; Ron was trying to help detach Dobby from his legs.

Dobby was having none of that, he held on tight, "Harry Potter should not be here. Harry Potter must leave." This of course did nothing but peak his interest. With the help of Ron, Dobby finally managed to release Harry's legs.

He made a quick sprint for the painting, and swung open the door. Hid eyes grazed the kitchens, "Dobby what-" Harry stopped speaking; he had to blink several times to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. When he was sure they weren't and that he was in fact staring at the glassy eyeball of Kreacher, his throat unstuck. "YOU! What are you doing here?"

Harry soon found that words could no longer express the rage that was swelling inside of him. He felt his body lunge for the evil creature, but his mind was whirling. This thing was the reason he no longer had Sirius with him.

He felt Ron and Hermione grab his shoulders roughly. It was a good thing Ron had given him the numbing spell last night, otherwise his arms would be screaming in agony. Dobby's little hands were pushing on his abdomen.

Hermione's voice was wavering in the struggle of holding Harry back, "Harry, he isn't worth it!"

"Like hell he isn't!"

He could here Ron panting next to him, "I thinkI have to agree with Harry" After much more struggling the three students and little house elf managed to push Harry out of the kitchen and back into the hall. Harry pulled away from all of them and glared down at Dobby.

"Why is that foul, evilthing here?" Dobby was rocking back and forth on his heels, sobbing into his little hands.

"Oh, I is so sorry," the elf cried, "I is not to be letting you sees him!"

Harry realized he had no reason to be yelling at Dobby, and tried to control the anger in his voice, "Did Dumbledore keep him here, Dobby?"

Dobby wailed in despair. Harry couldn't take it any longer; he had all the answers he needed. He turned on his heel and marched through the corridors. He heard Ron and Hermione running to catch up with him, but he didn't care. Harry faced the gargoyle and it automatically sprang open.

Harry stepped on the winding stairs, quickly followed by Ron and Hermione. He jumped off the stairs and onto the landing before they had even reached their destination. He didn't bother knocking and barged into the grand office.

"How dare you!" Harry stormed.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk He looked up from whatever paper he was reviewing. "Ah, Mr. Potter, I'd invite you in but . . ." he waved his hand in carelessness. Harry was aware Ron and Hermione had entered as well and were staring at the office in awe.

Harry was not in the mood for the old man's tricks, "How could you! You"

Hermione looked scandalized, "Harry stop!"

Harry glared at Hermione, "No! You kept that thing here! You didn't even tell me! Is this how you honor the man that died for your cause!"

Dumbledore looked down at his parchment, "It is your cause too Harry."

"Damn it don't you think I know that? Don't you think I remember that every second of my life? How can you be so ignorant? To trust that rat again!"

"Harry, I assure you, he will not cause any more harm!" How could this man begin to tell him this?

"I'm sick of your damn percussions! How many times you've told me 'all is protected, don't worry yourself.' What happened to telling me everything from now on! Who else is going to have to die before you stop this? Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be me next time! Where would you be then?"

Harry looked at the old man with his head bowed; he turned and left the room.

November came and went in a flurry of October leaves and fall winds. Harry had been under the wrongful assumption that since there was no major exam this year that the teachers would be inclined to reduce the workload a bit. Since it was obviously not meant to be, his weeks were filled with long nights and very little sleep.

Ron had been helping him with the numbing charm for a while, but they had to stop because the book warned that continual use might cause harmful side effects. Ever since his "chat" with Dumbledore, Harry's dreams had been plagued with more and more terrifying images. That, of course, was only when he managed to fall asleep in the first place.

Harry currently found himself heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to meet Bill for Occlumency. He was trying as best he could to keep functioning on a sort of autopilot. This was the only he way he managed to stay awake, that and also consuming large amounts of coffee, his new best friend.

The dark circles under his eyes had increased dramatically, and Hermione was keen to notice it. Her insistent nagging was grating his nerves He knew she was only trying to help, but when you feel like you're in a comatose you tend not to care. Ron let him be and left the coddling to Hermione. Harry knew he was only doing this because Ron knew what the problem was. Besides, Harry always dealt better with these things on his own.

Yesterday evening Harry had been up all night finishing an essay for Snape, he managed to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for roughly half and hour, before the rest of the dorm had awoken and was heading down to the common room.

Harry knocked at the classroom door, he continued knocking until the door opened and after a moment or so he realized he was knocking on Bill's chest.

Bill smiled down at him, "Alright there Harry?"

As much as it irked him when people asked that question, he just smiled in response and let himself in the room. He and Bill took their usual stances in the room. They both stood in the assail created between the desks, facing each other off.

Usually when Bill began his attack Harry was ready for him; Bill was never as harsh as Snape. Today however, with Harry being in the daze that he was, concentration was difficult. It had seemed only as though Bill had only just raised his wand when Harry was hit with the mind-probing spell.

Harry saw the beginnings of a Quidditch game form in his mind before he jerked out of his daze and retaliated. He pictured the swirling images of the rain clouds forming above him, charging with electricity. More beautiful and horrible than anything he could imagine.

After his mind was clear from anything but the thundering clouds, he shot Bill a tickling charm. Bill recovered and cast a quick Finite Incantatem. He looked at Harry with unsure eyes.

"Are you sure you're up to this today Harry?"

"Course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Bill still stared at him. "Come on let's get going."

Bill readied his wand with a hesitation that made Harry assume Bill thought he was going against his better judgment. Once again things seemed in slow motion, but Bill seemed to be going very fast, just Harry's mind was slow. It wasn't difficult for Harry to recall the image of the rainstorm again; it was getting out of it that was the problem. The storm was flickering into images now.

Harry could see flashes of his past, and not a pleasant part at that. He was bound to a tombstone, as Voldermort stood from the steaming cauldron… Hundreds of Dementors flew over his head, drawing the breath from himself and his Godfather... He saw a fluttering veil, and felt himself being drawn closer and closer… There was a bright flash of green light…and then it all stopped.

Bill had pulled back. He felt his male ego taking over, and his temper rising.

"Well don't just stand there," Harry snapped, "Go again."

"Harry you don't need to push yourself, why don't you just go back to the common room and get some rest."

"No! Go again." Harry could see the same angry flush rise in Bill that he had seen on Ron so many times. Bill raised his wand and hit him with the spell again.

This time Harry recalled the storm perfectly; it was dark, and calm. It was getting darker

and darker. The clouds were shifting together, and then blackness…