'You purposely gave the Dark Lord the strongest and most dangerous connection?'

'Yes.'

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was speechless. He leant back in his chair and merely stared at the son of his most hated nemesis.

'Tell me something, Professor. Did you not notice anything peculiar about the finished potion? Anything at all?'

It took a while for the Potions Master to be able to answer that question, and when he did, it wasn't a very concrete answer.

'I do not have any knowledge of the potion apart from that stated in the text from which I was supposed to brew it.'

'By the sounds of it I would take a guess that that wasn't much.'

'No, it wasn't,' conceded Snape.

'Right, let me tell you about the Potion of Connection, Professor Snape. Or better yet, why don't I go get the book, I doubt you would be willing to me telling you about a potion, when potions are your speciality. Wait a minute, please.'

Harry disappeared, leaving a kitchen full of people staring blankly at the spot he had just occupied. A second later he reappeared, carrying a very heavy book in his arms. He dumped it on the table in front of Snape and pointed his finger at it.

'Page 666, Professor.'

Still in a slight daze the professor opened the book to the correct page. A picture adorned the top of the page, showing a potion very similar to the one he had seen the Dark Lord drink just last night. The only difference was that instead of a blood red potion it was yellow and orange.

'Skip to the fourth paragraph, sir,' Harry instructed him.

Snape's long finger travelled the page vertically until it hit the beginning of the fourth paragraph, his eyes flew over the lines found there and when they reached the end the man looked up at his student. In his face lay an expression not many people had ever seen: incredulity.

'Explain,' was the curt word spoken to Harry.

However, Harry did not say a word. Instead he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled his left sleeve up past his elbow. Wordlessly he stretched his arm and showed the inside of his elbow to his previously most hated professor.

A three inch long scar ran along the inside of his arm.

'A person has a hard time trying to control his own blood, Professor.'


Ginny knocked on the door and instantly the noises inside stopped. The door opened slightly, then wider.

'Hey Ginny,' Harry smiled tentatively.

'Hey, thought you could use some company.'

She stepped through the door as Harry held it open for her and looked around.

The room was even bigger than could be seen from the little window. One wall was hidden by bookcases filled with books and artefacts. Pushed against another wall were two desks, one covered with parchment, open books and quills. The other held a two bubbling cauldrons, ingredients and several vials, three of which were already filled with the same substance. The rest of the room was divided in two, one half of it empty, the other occupied by a blue, shining… motorbike? She looked to Harry for an explanation.

'Sirius'.' He smiled sadly, 'He gave it to Hagrid when Voldemort killed my parents. Hagrid gave it back last year, it's been standing here ever since.'

The red-haired witch nodded and tried to divert Harry's attention. She was here to cheer the boy up, not make him dwell on what could have been. His eyes followed her around the room as she explored. She thought one of the cauldrons held a Silencing Draft, but couldn't be absolutely sure. The substance in the other was unrecognisable to her, but it smelt absolutely foul, although the smell did not seem to travel past the edges of the cauldron.

Just then the lunch bell rang in the shed and the two went out to get some, before there wouldn't be anything left.


Harry sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

'Well, Sirius, most of it's out in the open now. We don't have any more Death Eaters in Voldemort's ranks and everyone knows where I train. I'm not sure whether they realise that's what I'm doing, though. Except perhaps Ginny.'

He fell silent and looked around the room.

'You know, you really did a great job with this room. I doubt I've even found all the hidden spaces yet. I wonder what else you have hidden?'

The lonely boy fell silent again.

'They don't know it's me who has to kill him, though,' he whispered in an almost inaudible voice.


Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was sitting in his office. He had just sent Severus away, after he had been given a most peculiar report. He had been told that he now did not have any spies in Voldemort's ranks, since this last one had been told on. He had also been told that Mr Harry Potter was not only an extremely powerful Occlumens, he now appeared to have mastered Legilimency also remarkable well. Then, last night, as well as finding out about his lack of Death Eater spies, he was told that it was this same Potter had in fact been the reason of his loss and that apparently he had told his tormentor the Prophecy.

The Professor clasped his hands and looked pensively at some of his possessions. More precisely, those possessions that had been broken recently in a fit of anger and hurt. The old mage sighed deeply. It had hurt him so much to see those bright green eyes of the young child responsible for this, shine with tears, tears of hurt, tears of anger, but most of all, tears of betrayal, when they looked at him. He knew he had hurt the child, but he did not know how much. Harry had seemed to still be withholding so much of his emotions. He had expected the boy to physically attack him, but when things just started exploding around him, he had been amazed. What had amazed him even more was that not a single shard had hurt him personally and all those possessions broken were those that could be easily replaced. He had seen the shards of silver and metal fly around Harry himself and cut him in a variety of places, but it was almost as if a shield had been put up around his person.

The ancient man vowed that he would do what he could to repair Harry's trust in him.


Tsjak, tsjak, tsjak. Left, right, spin. The blade flashed as Harry twirled and slashed. It was an old sword Sirius had once found and hidden in his shed. Now Harry vented his anger, frustration and angst through the sword. His blows were obviously strong, even though they only met with air. Occasionally the sword met a piece of wood, causing it to swing wildly from the ceiling, making Harry having to dodge or block it. His reflexes got better each time he practised and his enhanced hearing alerted him to the swish of the wood through the air.

Harry himself was completely silent as he sidestepped and spun, occasionally dodging by Apparating almost instantaneously from one spot to another.

This went on for some time, and even when he started to breathe heavily did Harry not stop. He had broken into a sweat by the time Harry threw his sword out of the way and started kicking and hitting. He never realized that his sword followed the automatic swish of his arm and landed neatly on top of one of the bookcases.

Finally he relented. He pulled down the wooden blocks, several of which had large cracks running down the middle or pieces chopped of. After putting them away, he concentrated on one of the potions bubbling on the desk. Subconsciously he muttered a 'Come in' and waved his hand at the door when he registered a knock. He recognised the presence that entered and promptly forgot about them again, full concentration on the potion never wavering.

He stopped, satisfied with his work, and put his things away. He picked up a clean shirt and pulled his dirty one over his head. A gasp and a slight chuckle pulled him out of reverie. He turned and blushed as he identified the sources of the sounds: Professor Dumbledore and Ginny. He hurriedly pulled the shirt on, then frowned at the two.

'How did you get in? I locked the door.'

'You opened it too, Harry,' Ginny said, still fighting down her blush.

Harry had already forgotten about the incident and frowned.

'I did? Strange, I don't remember going to the door.'

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully, but didn't comment. He then turned to Ginny.

'Thank you, Miss Weasley. I would like to speak with Mr. Potter alone, if you don't mind?'

'No, of course not, Professor. I shall leave you to it.' She smiled a last time at Harry and left, closing the door behind her.

Harry's smile faded as the two men were left alone. A serious expression took its place as his emerald green eyes, now glassless, shone with determination. Even as his gaze fell on the Headmaster, his eyes never met those twinkling from behind the half moon spectacles, but the most powerful light wizard of the century swallowed nervously at the sight.

'Professor?'