Harry sat in charms jotting down notes every once in a while, but, for the most part his mind was on more pressing problems. One, the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something simple, two, talking to Snape, it did not seem that today was going to be any easier than the last few. At least most of the Slytherins were leaving him alone now. The younger ones at least, the ones Harry knew to be Deatheaters were following him everywhere, even into the bathroom. He found it mildly disconcerting.

Draco also had a self-satisfied air about him. His long time rival had done something, and it didn't sit well with him. Harry shook his head and looked down at his notes. In his contemplations he had written the words 'prepare for every eventuality' across the top of the page. He chewed on his lip for a second trying not to freak out completely. It was rare that the Dark Goddess ever contacted him, and when she did her little tidbits of information were rarely helpful as vague as they always were. Right then, he thought, I'll just do a little snooping tonight.

Second problem talking to Snape. The man had been avoiding Harry ever since their minor confrontation in the dungeons. This made it very hard to talk to him. Harry soon found that Snape was very good at disappearing. Harry thought for a moment. He obviously couldn't talk to Snape outside of his roll as student. He did have potions later that day. Harry supposed he could always blow something up, and keep blowing things up until Snape had to talk to him.

Now to dust all the cobwebs off of Salazar's old memories. There were plenty of course. Salazar had live a long life even after "leaving" Hogwarts. Harry reluctantly pushed aside memories of friends and family and set in on the information that had been gathered. He was looking for something to do with blood magic. He knew that much.

A hand shook his shoulder. Harry snapped back to reality to find Ron staring down at him with a peculiar look on his face. Harry Blinked; what did he do now? "Harry," Ron started slowly, "Salazar was pretty old when he died right?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Yes, fairly old, two hundred something if I remember correctly."

Ron nodded and knelt down next to where his fried was sitting so that he could look him in the eye. This was not going to be good Harry decided. "Harry, today in class you seemed to be a little out of it."

Harry blinked again wondering where this was going. "No, I'm fine. I was only thinking about my current problems."

Ron brightened. "Oh, good. So you're not going senile on us."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That's not funny."

"Yes it is old man."

Harry frowned not taking the bait. He threw his bag over his shoulder and turned toward the door. "Come on we're going to be late for Professor Sternadel's class. He's supposed to be explaining ways to get rid of Lemmings."

"Excuse me," Ron blinked at his friend wondering why a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would teach about rodents.

Harry smirked. "Lemmings are zombie-like suicide assassins. They attack in mass, very hard to get rid of."

Ron raised his eyebrow. "Why would that be useful?''

"They are for when you are fighting an enemy that holds a good defensive position." Harry said absently. "They swarm in no matter how many of them get killed."

Ron shook his head. It was weird that his best friend seemed to know more about magic than even Dumbledore. "Harry, how much of Salazar's life was spent with his nose in a book?"

Harry sucked on his lower lip. "A few hours here and there when Rowena wasn't present to play 'human encyclopedia', but mostly I was an explorer and experimenter. Most of the knowledge I have I've experienced first hand."

"Um, you're speaking in first person."

"Pardon."

"In the past it has always been 'as Salazar I was…' now you speak as if you are him now." Ron gestured helplessly at the empty air disconcerted by his own intuition. They walked in silence for a time.

Harry really didn't know what to say. Half realized fears of loosing himself to… well, himself surfaced all of a sudden nearly paralyzing him with fright. Was he slowly becoming someone else? He didn't notice too much of a difference, but with the emotions and memories of a man one thousand years dead flooding his head did Harry Potter really exist anymore. Harry shook his head determinedly. He was not going to worry about that. He had enough problems; he would just be, and if he changed that would be it. He was not loosing his sense of self. In fact he felt more whole than he ever had before.

"It is fine Ron," Harry finally answered. "I'm no one else but me."

Ron gave him a small smile and nodded his head; though he didn't understand at all he would trust his friend.

"Hey, you two wait up." Hermione ran up to them and stopped on the other side of Harry hefting her bag on her shoulder. The straps groaned in protest. "How was Charms?"

"Fun, Harry was staring off into space the whole time so professor Flitwick used him to demonstrate the color changing principal."

"He did what?" Harry asked looking down at himself to make sure everything was as it should be.

"Turns out it was the same thing we used to prank the entire school a while back." Ron continued ignoring Harry.

"You mean when you turned me baby blue." Hermione deadpanned.

"Yep." Ron answered cheerfully.

Professor Sternadel was an excellent professor. Harry hoped that he actually stayed. Once the professor had even woken the class up from a stupor by climbing up on his desk and then stepping off air walking over the heads of his class never stopping his lecture. Not that the lectures were boring by any means. Sternadel tended to paint stick pictures with his wand while explaining the characteristics of dark creatures and casting illusions of himself demonstration wand motions and effects of the spells he taught.

Today they watched an illusion of Lemmings attacking a castle. It was a spectacular sight. Lemmings did not resemble the muggle rodent at all; in fact they were very human like besides the lemming mentality and the fact that they could unhinge their jaws and eat almost anything. Even Harry was very impressed by the lecture. He even took notes. The fact that all the notes were on Professor Sternadel's teaching style and not the information itself went unnoticed.

Class ended with the professor reminding his class to write a six inch summery of what they learned today. Harry thought that a good idea, and so did Sternadel because the homework was the same at the end of every class period.

"Hurry up." He said to his friends. "I want to get to potions early. I have to talk to Snape." His friends looked at him like he had lost his mind.

The three of them got to the potions room about ten minutes before class began. Harry dropped his books on the table where he and Ron worked before making his way up the aisle to where Snape was sitting at his desk. He put on his best respectful face. "Professor," he said. Without a glance Snape got up and left. Harry narrowed his eyes. "Damn him," he spat after Snape had left kicking the front of the desk. "This is war. I will not be ignored." He smiled back Ron and Hermione, who looked a little alarmed. "Time for Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Hermione asked chewing on her finger nails. She was torn between interest and anxiety. Harry had had some really odd ball ideas before. Now… she expected nothing less than absolute chaos. Hermione sighed. She just hoped no one got hurt.

"Blow shit up."

Ron grinned. "Sounds like fun."

"Boys," Hermione groaned.

Class started out simply enough. Professor Snape came in on the tails of the last group of students and barked at everyone to brew the potion on page 143. He then sat down at his desk and commenced to glare at everyone in the room. Harry and Ron gathered their ingredients from the supply cabinet; Harry managed to shove a few extra ingredients into his robes before returning to his seat.

Ron began to cut the roots needed in the first step, while eyeing Harry warily. Harry haphazardly threw the ingredients he had in his robes into the already bubbling caldron with a manic gleam in his eyes. This can not be good. Ron thought, holding the roots in a shaky hand over the caldron. Harry nodded his head in encouragement before leaning down to sift through his bag. Ron squinched his eyes shut and pulled back as far a possible, then reluctantly dropped in the roots.

Nothing happened. Ron blinked. He had expected something more spectacular. He shrugged and opened a bottle of Unicorn Water and pored it into the mix. The bubbly mix stilled instantly the surface turning glassy and smooth. Ron quickly took two steps back not sure what to do.

Harry popped up from his bag with another bottle in his hand. He glanced at the caldron and nodded. "Oh Professor," He called out into the surprisingly quiet dungeon.

"What is it now Potter?" Snape snapped.

"I think something is wrong with our potion."

Snape glared at Harry and strode over to the caldron muttering about incompetence and pedigree under his breath. He looked down at the glassy mixture and frowned. His eyes snapped up to meet Harry's. Ron took that as his queue and began to slowly back away. "What is the meaning of this?" Snape growled. He then noticed the little bottle in Harry's hand. "You wouldn't dare."

With big innocent eyes Harry asked. "Dare what Professor?" As he said this he tipped the bottle into the potion eyes never leaving Snape's face, never loosing that innocent look.

The caldron exploded showering liquid all over the dungeon classroom. A few people got sprinkled with the liquid, but most stayed as they had started to inch toward the door at Snape's 'You wouldn't dare.' A few laughed nervously and started back to their now soaked work benches. Suddenly the room burst into flames. The class stampeded out of the room in a frenzied rush, screaming.

Harry did not move; neither did Snape. The latter was glowering. Blue white flames danced all around them and on them. Harry reached down into his caldron and scooped out a flaming handful of liquid and threw it at Snape. The Potions Master didn't even flinch as the flames slid down his robes.

"What is the meaning of this, Potter?" He grit out.

"You have been avoiding me." Harry said splashing some more of the flame across the room. There was no need for a panic. The fire that Harry had created was Ghostflame. It only burned the liquid that was its accelerant, or perhaps an unlucky ghost. Salazar had used it to make mage lights all those years ago. He smiled at the memory of throwing a bucket full of the stuff on Godric. The idiot hadn't had a clue.

Snape scowled at the smile mistaking its meaning. "This is no laughing matter, Potter. I have not been avoiding you."

"That's a lie. I can feel it. Not that you haven't been obvious about it storming out when I came into talk to you before class." Harry frowned and threw another handful of flame into the air. "Are you afraid of me, or perhaps, disappointed? Is the 'Great Salazar Slytherin not what you expected him to be?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "If your story is to be believed Salazar Slytherin was about as powerful as a kitten…"

"You forget so easily the void magic I used in the Headmaster's office. I appear harmless because I choose to. Do not push me Professor." Harry cocked his head to the side listening to the voices coming closer to the room. He frowned. He couldn't afford interruptions. Snape was a surprisingly hard man to corner. Harry waved his wand at the door and reinforced it before putting a locking charm on it. "We need to talk."

Snape raised a brow. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Harry said without preamble. "When you were in school here you invented a potion. Something I believe has to do with blood magic."

Snape looked at him in shock. "How did you know about that?"

"I have my ways." Harry edged. Snape glared at him. "What was that potion?"

Snape sighed. Getting answers out of the boy was like pulling teeth. "It was a replacement for the blood in Blood Magic."

Harry frowned. Would it still be considered Blood Magic if there was no blood in the spell? He wondered. "But different spells need different kinds of blood. How would one potion fill all those needs?"

"There are incantations that can be used to change the properties of the potion to those that are needed."

Harry was impressed. He held back the urge to demand all of Snape's notes. Blood Magic was not one of his specialties, but with this kind of encouragement it could become one. Then the implications of what Snape said hit him. "Why would Voldemort use my blood if he had this potion at hand? Surely you mentioned it to him."

Snape rubbed his eyes. Harry had been taking the conversation in a direction he had not anticipated from the beginning. It was making his head hurt trying to follow the boy's leaps of logic. "I did, but my Lord is of the vindictive type. Only your blood would satisfy his twisted sense of justice."

"Voldemort has a sense of justice? Amazing."

"He will get revenge on all those he is convinced have wronged him. Tell me Potter, why is this so important."

Harry held his breath. Should he tell Snape about his suspicions? To this day he was not completely sure whose side Snape was on, no matter what Dumbledore said. "It is pertinent to the destruction of Voldemort that is all you need to know." Snape snorted. You still haven't told me what the potion is for. It replaces the blood in a blood spell, but to what effect?"

Snape shrugged. "It is easier to get than blood, especially if you need a certain kind. For example, the blood of a virgin is getting harder and harder to find now days. It also negates the particular flaw inherent in blood spells."

Harry snapped his fingers. "Duh, you idiot. I can't believe you forgot that." Harry scolded himself. "Thanks professor you have been a great help." He smiled cheekily at Snape before waving his hand at the door. It burst open.

McGonagall and the Headmaster entered the room first. Dumbledore looked around him at the dancing blue flames. "What is going on in here?" McGonagall demanded.

"Oh, there is no danger," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "But I would like to talk to you in my office if I may, Harry."

"Of course Headmaster," Harry said meekly. Snape looked at him in surprise. All the dominance the boy had been displaying before was gone. Harry looked like any other teen who knew he was in trouble.

"Headmaster," McGonagall queried. "Shouldn't I be the one to handle this as his head of house?"

"No Professor, this is something I need to handle personally." Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing look and turned toward door. Harry followed behind. They walked in silence all the way to the Headmaster's office. Harry sat in one of the offered chairs in front of the fire and Dumbledore sat across from him. Dumbledore sat in the chair across from him and waved his wand and a tea service appeared. Harry took the offered tea thinking furiously. He could sense the veritasurem in the tea, but it hardly mattered. He had more important matters to worry about; Dumbledore's piercing gaze for one. Harry knew that this talk was inevitable. It had been only a matter of time before he was called in for a "heart to heart" talk with the Headmaster.

At the moment Dumbledore seemed quite willing to let Harry stew. For himself Harry took the time to organize his thoughts. Time was on his side. The longer he could think the better his answers would be when the Headmaster started to ask questions.

"I assume that you are the one at fault for the ghost fire?" Dumbledore asked abruptly.

"Yes sir"

Dumbledore blinked. He had not expected a blatant admission. "How did you know how to make it?"

Harry shrugged. "I found it in a book" one thousand plus years ago, he finished silently. "It sounded cool." It was in fact one of Salazar Slytherin's favorite toys.

"I see," Dumbledore said not even trying to sound cheerful. Harry took that as a bad sign. "Harry I am very worried. You have not been yourself since the accident earlier this year." Dumbledore caught Harry with his piercing blue eyes. "Tell me Harry, What happened that night?"

"I already told you what happened that night, Headmaster." Harry sipped his tea once more. "Nothing has changed in the past."

Dumbledore gave Harry a considering look. "So evasive." He pulled his wand from his large, bell sleeve. "It seems I have no choice." He began to chant under his breath. Harry froze as the spell flowed over him. It was a dark spell. Harry couldn't believe that Dumbledore would use dark magic on him. "There that should do the trick."

"Why?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I'm sorry Harry, but if you won't tell me what I need to know you are going to have to be watched. The spell will tell me when you use magic, whether it is light or dark, and what spell it is."

Harry shot up from his seat. "Have you so little faith in me? Do you think that I'm going to join Voldemort?" Harry stormed toward the door.

"Harry," the Headmaster called from behind him. "Getting rid of Voldemort is a very admirable goal, but we have to be careful how we do it. People would not be understanding if we started to use the very ideology we fight against. You have been rather unstable of late."

Harry glared at Dumbledore and turned on his heal. He slammed the door behind him and stormed all the way back to the dormitory. Dumbledore's little spell made things much harder. Harry could not move freely while his magic usage was being watched. He would have to bide his time before striking at Voldemort. Regretfully, it seemed that Dumbledore had become one of the enemies. The old pain of having a friend turn against him rose in his chest. The chances of him being kicked out of the school again were frighteningly good.

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Harry spent the next month and a half limiting all of his magic to school work. The whole time his mind was planning furiously. He assumed that at some point Dumbledore had also put a tracking spell on him. Thankfully he knew how to make a shadow of himself that the tracking spell would attach itself to. He did not feel like having the Headmaster show up during one of his training sessions with Ron and Draco. Headmaster had been popping up everywhere else in order to "Check up on him." Harry felt that he was being kept in a cage.

The last weekend before Christmas was a Hoggsmeade weekend. It was nice to get out of the castle. The sky was the bright watery blue that only seemed to appear in the heart of winter, and the ground was covered in enough snow to coat the ground but was not too difficult to walk through. Harry walked down the street next to Ron and Hermione. His two friends were holding hands and standing most would say inappropriately close together. Harry only smiled at his friends' budding relationship pretending to be deep in thought so that they could steal a kiss every once in a while. The trio was making its way to the Three Broomsticks to warm up with a bottle of butterbeer, and in Harry's and Ron's case try to sneak a peak at the presents Hermione had bought them earlier after all but telling the two boys to get lost.

They had just reached the Three Broomsticks and were turning off the road to the entrance when a flurry of activity erupted behind them. The first thing that alerted Harry that something was wrong was a man's scream and then the sound of a body hitting the ground. He turned quickly to and began to run in the direction of the scream when he heard a loud crash behind him. A hapless pedestrian had been slammed by a magical force into a nearby building. Harry whipped around to see Lavender Brown's bright blue cloak over a snow drift. It was then that he lost all sense. A knife appeared in his right hand out of thin air and he leapt at the man in the black cloak and white mask. Deatheaters, he thought as he pushed a concentrated amount of pure destructive magic through the knife as he sliced into the Deatheater's robes. The Deatheater's arm and right side of his body turned to ash. "Ron, Hermione," he called. Both his friends appeared at his side and Harry pushed his dagger into Ron's hand knowing that the other boy had yet to start carrying a blade. Ron started to protest but was silenced as another knife flickered into existence in Harry's hand.

"Hermione," Harry continued without pause. "I need you to get back to the castle warn the teachers, get Dumbledore, and somehow warn the fucking Order." Hermione nodded and dashed off responding to the command in Harry's voice as it broke through her fear. "Ready Ron," Harry said over his shoulder a feral gleam in his eye.

At Ron's reluctant nod Harry turned and leapt into battle. All of his carefully laid plans disappearing like so much smoke on the wind. How dare these fools attack so closely to his school? He dodged an Avada Kedavra and flicked his wand at the Deatheater causing a shower of blood to stain the snow.

Harry glanced up and down the street, and then slipped into an ally. He didn't care for Voldemort to find out about his sudden ability to use dark magic. He initiated the change that would turn him into Arisa. A quick transformation of clothes later she bolted out of the ally and turned a group of Deatheaters into dust. Harry found Ron fighting off two of the Deatheaters. He sprinted over and slashed through the arm of the Deatheater who had his wand pointed at Ron. He went down with a scream clutching his bleeding appendage.

Ron stabbed the other man up under the ribs and pushed him back into the snow to die. He then looked up at Arisa suspiciously. The beautiful woman dressed in red robes so dark that it looked black in shadow. Ron recognized the knife in the woman's hand as Harry's. He saw red for a moment and advanced on the woman. Arisa only took one step back. "Ron, you have seen me fight. Do you really think one of these pathetic excuses for fighter would be able to take my knife away from me, let alone use it?" Ron's jaw dropped. "Thought so." Arisa spun on her heel and took off. "Stay close." She called over her shoulder. Ron shook his head in disbelief and jogged after the woman who was apparently his best friend.

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I'm going to stop there or this chapter is never going to get up. I'm not good at writing about a lot of action. There will be more in the next chapter; I'm not finished with this yet, but I figured it had been long enough since my last update. So, we are left with a cliff hanger.