Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hello again. I'm leaving in a little over a week, so I wanted to go ahead and get my story to the nice round number of twenty as far as chapters go. That, and I had the sudden urge to write anyway.

Well, I would love to answer all of your questions on here, but I can't. I did that once, and they gave me a warning, telling me I was being to "interactive". Go figure. So, to answer your questions, I'm going to post responses on my website:

groups(dot)yahoo(dot)com(slash)group(slash)twilightauthor488.

To Diane especially, I've got a lot of your questions I can answer there. Think you might find responses interesting.

So, thanks for all of the reviews. And here is Chapter 20 for your personal enjoyment. Please read/review! I need to know what you think.

Chapter 20: A Visit from Pals

Harry walked down into the dungeons, leaning less on his cane today than he had in days past. His legs felt considerably stronger than they had, and he felt confident of himself for the first time in a long while. Ahead of his path, he was levitating his belongings, bringing them down so as not to have to make another trek up to the hospital wing. He knew how weary he would be after the lesson with Snape. He left his belongings outside of the door, and knocked hesitantly. "Enter!" the voice barked from the other side. Harry took a deep breath and entered in.

Snape stood there, wand in hand and facing the door. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I will be. Sir."

"Put your wand on the desk," Snape commanded, pointing at a place on the desk nearer to him than Harry. Harry reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to trust the professor with the most powerful weapon he possessed. The two got into position, Snape looking at Harry with threatening eyes. Harry glared back, trying to prepare himself for anything the professor might throw in his direction. "Clear your mind, Potter. Be prepared for any attack. I will not warn you when I will hit you with the curse, so you must always be ready." Harry placed his cane against the desk as well, making sure it was out of the way in case he fell again, like he almost always did.

Harry tried to clear his mind. Too many questions were running through; too many random thoughts that had been plaguing his mind. "Potter!" Snape growled. "Control your thoughts! You will fall to the Dark Lord easily if you do not learn." Harry tried to focus on nothingness. 'Dark,' he thought. 'Just darkness. That's all.' Snape yelled the curse suddenly, and Harry fell under it too quickly. The darkness melted into the image of him sitting upstairs with Buckbeak, moping about the occurrences before Christmas. The memories flashed to his many detentions in the Dungeons. 'No!' he thought. 'Nothing. I don't want him to see anymore of my memories!' He focused on the dark, and brought it forward. The memories vanished, and he saw Snape stagger in front of him.

"What did I tell you, Potter? No memories at all. You must learn to not let me in in the first place. The Dark Lord is even more powerful than I am. How do you expect to keep him from your memories if you can barely push me out."

"I'm trying. And I am making progress. You saw for yourself."

"Oh yes. The Golden Boy finally pushed me out of his mind. But that's not good enough. You should not be satisfied with mediocrity. Professor Dumbledore has entrusted me with the task of keeping your mind free of the Dark Lord, and I intend on teaching you. But you must be the one to decide to actually achieve this delicate art."

"I am trying!" Harry said, his voice raising in amplitude.

"No need to shout, Potter. Now, let's try again."

Over the next hour, Harry tried to expel the leering figure from his mind. He succeeded in getting rid of the professor's spell, but never quickly enough. Eventually, he felt the effects of mental fatigue. Snape seemed to notice too, although this caused him to push even harder. Harry finally failed, unable to keep the professor out of his memories. "That was unfair!" he shouted at the professor.

"Stop being such a ninny!"

"I am not being a ninny!"

"We are done here for the day Potter. I will show you to your new room now, if you have your things with you."

"They're outside the door," Harry growled.

"Good. Follow me." Snape led the way out of his office, and Harry trailed behind. The dark figure stopped in the hallway long enough to levitate Harry's things. They walked a considerable distance before the professor stopped in front of a door. "You will be staying here," he said, pointing to the door, although not moving to open it. The possessions were set down in front of the doorway, and the Professor turned and walked off. Harry put his hand around the doorknob and opened it, revealing a nice little room.

It was painted in a light, very pale green shade. The bed sat near a window, with a canopy over it, also a green color, although considerably darker than the walls. A bathroom lay off to the side of the room, the door partly closed although a light could be seen coming from the inside. Harry moved his things into the room. True, it was plain, but it was roomier than his room at the Dursley's had been, and much more inviting. He sat on the large bed, looking around. It was only when he had been seated that he realized how tired he really was. Harry lay his head on the pillow, and was soon asleep.

At first, Harry dreamed of a Quidditch match. Umbridge shouted at him from the ground, telling him he could no longer play, that he had been banned, but he flew high above her, and the Gryffindor team laughed sneeringly at her. The dream swirled out of sight, and in it's place a long snake slither before his eyes. Two muggles were lying on the floor, gasping for breath. "Please, let us go," one pleaded. His eyes were pitiful, and Harry wanted to help them direly. And yet his body didn't move.

"I'll let you go," the familiar voice of Voldemort hissed. "AVADA KEDARVA!" he shouted, aiming at the muggle who had just pleaded for his life and that of his friend.

"What do you wish to say before you die?" Voldemort laughed, and several death eaters laughed with him.

The muggle looked wide-eyed at the wand held in Voldemort's hand. Harry saw by his face that he was only a boy, younger than he was. But the look of fear turned to one of stubborn refusal. "Kill me if you wish, but they'll find you! They'll find you and make you pay!"

"No one will make me pay for anything. You are only being punished for being inferior. Pitiful muggles such as yourself do not deserve to live in the presence of such greatness." Voldermort killed him at that moment, and the muggle boy lay dead on the floor, glassy eyes staring into the deep abyss of Death. Voldemort laughed hysterically, feeling glee at the killings he had just caused.

Harry awoke breathless, as though he had just seen two innocent boys die. His scar seared with pain, and his forehead felt as though it were about to split open. He knew he hadn't screamed this time. Instead, he seemed to be choking for air. Harry rushed to the bathroom, nearly falling without the support of his cane. He made it to the toilet just in time, before waves of nausea overcame him, and he vomited violently into the bowl. After several minutes, the vomiting passed, and he only had dry heaves left. Harry closed the lid of the toilet and washed his mouth out in the sink. Looking at his reflection, he could not help but to think of how pitiful he really looked. His face was extremely pale, and his eyes looked dull. Harry tore his eyes from the mirror, and made his way back into the bedroom.

The evening rays of sunset shone into the room, giving the tired feeling of night approaching. Harry sighed, sitting at a chair nearby. Harry watched the sunset, not tearing his eyes away for a moment. The sun gave its rays to the sky, causing the most brilliant performance of colors upon the clouds as it set. Purples, reds, and golds reflected on the sky in a dazzling display, and all too quickly it was over. Harry looked away, thinking of nothing, only breathing in the last bit of evening warmth from the open window. The feeling of sickness was long gone now, leaving him feeling rather empty. He closed his eyes, opening them only when the house elf popped in to give him dinner.

Down the hallway, a professor sat fuming over several seemingly random pieces of paper. It all had worked so perfectly on paper, so what had happened? The potion was supposed to serve as a temporary cursing method, not as a fatal poison to one's system. Of course, this was often the problem with experimental potions. The results could often be unanticipated. Oh how he had hated to explain to Dumbledore what had happened. And yet, the Headmaster had shown that he did not blame Snape for what had happened. After all, he had only done as he had been told. He had followed Voldemort's orders, as he was meant to.

Snape hated to admit it, even to himself, but he felt considerably guilty about Potter's impending death. It was, after all, his own fault. Of course, he could never tell Potter this. He still despised the boy, no matter how guilty he felt. The boy thought he was beyond fault, and Snape was determined to prove him wrong. However, that did not make it right for the innocent boy to die the painful and slow death that he seemed fated to. Snape brooded over each of the documents, looking for the one thing he could have missed. If he found it, he just may be able to find the cure.

Two days later, Harry sat anxiously in his room with a nauseous feeling in his gut. His friends were coming today. Normally, he would be ecstatic, but this time it was different. Sure, he would be more than thrilled to see his friends again, but he didn't want to tell them all that had happened. He didn't want to go into all of the gory details, and he especially didn't want to tell them about his dying. He didn't want to see the looks of pity in their eyes, and the forced smiles that they would give him. He found himself dreading their arrival at the same time that he was awaiting anxiously.

At around ten o'clock that morning, a house elf entered his room. "Master Potter's guests have arrived," she said quietly.

"Thank you," Harry said. "Could you show them in, please?"

The house elf did not need to show anyone in, because as soon as he had finished his sentence, two blurry figures came darting into the room. The next thing he knew, it was as though he were being suffocated, choked from around the middle. Hermione had grabbed hold of him, and now had him ensnared in a fierce hug. "Oh Harry! I thought I'd never see you again!" She let him go long enough to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Nice to see you, mate," Ron said, patting his friend on the back as Hermione hugged him again.

"We were so worried when you were captured!" Hermione said.

"Yeah. And then even more worried when we heard you were stuck here with Snape!"

Harry laughed. "It hasn't been so bad. I don't see him unless we're in Occlumency lessons."

"Thank God for small favors," Ron dramatized.

"Harry, we were so worried about you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry thought it over carefully. He wanted to talk with someone, but he didn't want to tell them yet. He just wasn't ready. "No." Hermione looked a bit disappointed, but said nothing. "So, how are your OWL scores?" he asked lightly.

"Oh Harry! You won't believe it! I got an O on almost everything but Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures!"

"I believe it," Harry muttered, grinning slyly. "What about you Ron?"

"Well, I got fairly good scores. And let's just say that I won't have to put up with Snape for another year."

Harry smiled, although Hermione looked very disapproving. "What about you Harry?" Hermione questioned. "Good or bad?"

"Well, I think I did alright." He handed his results form to Hermione, who looked over it carefully.

"Oh! You're in NEWTS Potions! This is wonderful Harry!"

"Ha ha ha!" Ron laughed. "Mate, I feel sorry for you. Glad I'm not in your shoes."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as well, and Hermione even grinned a little. "It won't be so bad this year, you know. Not since Snape doesn't have to be a spy anymore."

"Are you kidding? He hasn't changed a lick."

"Well, Harry, how would you feel if you'd just nearly been killed for being revealed as a spy?" Harry cringed. "He'll be better than before. You just watch."

The next few hours were spent going over details of Ron and Hermione's summer, and what had been going on in the Order. A lot of the time, Hermione seemed to be reminiscing about Harry's capture and their worry about his fate. Harry changed the subject successfully each time.

At around five o'clock, Snape entered in. "You need to be going back now," he said, his face showing absolutely no emotion.

"Right. Well, we'll see you mate," Ron said.

"Stay safe Harry, and we'll see you come start of term." Hermione embraced him once more. "Oh! I almost forgot." From her bag she had carried with her, Hermione brought out a large bundle of letters. "Ron and I wrote to you when you were captured. After we learned we would visit you here, everyone else wrote letters to you as well. They're all here. We thought you might enjoy mementoes from your friends."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"We have a schedule to keep," Snape said from the doorway. With one last farewell, the crowd separated, Harry feeling doomed for the rest of his summer. Snape led them away, and Harry sat back down on the bed. The door remained partially open, and he listened until their footsteps died away in the corridor. Harry buried his face in his hands. He didn't cry, but he felt close to it. His friends knew so little. It used to be he told them everything, and now he was keeping secrets like a dirty liar. He almost couldn't bear it.

For a long time he sat alone, dwelling on the darkness he had left them in. They didn't know about the prophecy, what had happened during the summer, or of his illness. So many big events remained a secret. The sad fact was Harry didn't even want to admit these facts to himself. How could he explain to them what even he didn't understand.

A voice came from the doorway. "So I take it you told them nothing?"

"No," Harry said, straightening up and looking Snape straight in the face.

"Why not?"

"I didn't feel like it, that's all. No need to worry them."

"Is that really the reason?"

The question was so simple, and yet Harry could not summon an answer. He opened his mouth, and yet no words came out. "That's what I thought," Snape said. "Even you don't know."

"Like you do!" Harry accused. "You don't understand what I'm going through right now."

"Yes I do," Snape answered smoothly. "It's called denial. You need to accept the fact that you don't have complete control of your life and that things happen all the time that can't be stopped."

"Leave me the hell alone!" Harry snarled, not wanting to hear what he so dearly needed to.

"I will leave you alone for now, but you must face the facts eventually. If you don't come to terms with it now, it will hit you suddenly, and the pain will be as unbearable at the disease you are suffering from." Snape held to his promise, and promptly left. Harry shut the door immediately and locked it tight, not even opening it for the house elf with his dinner. Instead, he just paced in his room back and forth. Snape was wrong. He wasn't in denial. He knew perfectly well what was happening to him.

Harry abruptly stopped. Didn't he?

A/n: Tell me what you think. Next chapter, will Snape be the friendly ear that Harry needs, or will Harry still refuse to talk about it?