Hi everyone! So sorry about the formatting in the last chapter, it didn't work how i thought it would. So to try make up for it heres a double update ;-) enjoy!

Chapter 2

After breakfast the next morning, the two boys rushed to get their broomsticks and continued down to the quidditch pitch. Hermione was left in the common room, behind a pile of books, rolling her eyes at their behaviour.

The moment Harry kicked off the ground, he felt all his worries drop away. He raced around the pitch, rolling, diving, and even doing the odd somersault. It still amazed him, the glorious sensation of flying. You'd think after more than 5 years I'd be used to it, he thought.

They practised for a while, Harry attempting to get the quaffle into the hoops, and seldom exceeding. Ron had got really good over the summer.

A long while later, they tramped back to the castle, cheerfully talking about the International Quidditch League and their favourite teams. Harry was beginning to feel the potion wearing off.

He patted his pockets, trying to find the small vial. It wasn't there.

Crap he thought, mentally running through of places he could of left it. Oh well, there's more in my trunk. Nobody could connect him to it, could they? No, I'm being paranoid that's all, it's not like it's got my name on. He was so immersed in thought he didn't hear Malfoy and co. coming up behind them until…

'Well if it isn't Weasel and Potty, padding around the castle' Harry didn't miss the reference to his godfather's animagus form. The two ignored him.

'Well it seems as though the mutt, I mean, smuck is ignoring me.'

'Shut up' Harry growled.

'Or what, you going to bite me?' Malfoy was thoroughly enjoying getting a rise out of them so quickly. Crabbe and Goyle laughed though it was clear they didn't get the joke.

'Buggar off, Malfoy' said Ron, drawing his wand.

'Now now, Weasel no need to get violent. We're not dogs you know.' Malfoy's two cronies step forward, cracking their knuckles threateningly. Harry stepped back, memories beginning to seep into his mind, pain, darkness, a man standing over him…

'Is there a problem here?' Came the icy voice of the Potions Master behind them.

Severus walked up quietly behind the boys, it was rather obvious that Malfoy and Potter were having a go at it again. He watched as Malfoy taunted the greened-eyed teen while Weasley stood up for him. But aside from telling the blond boy to shut up, Potter was unusually quiet, his hands rolled into fists and an unfathomable look on his face.

As Weasley drew his wand he decided it was time to step in.

'Is there a problem here?' he said icily. They all jumped, Potter's hand flew to his wand pocket. The child looked like he was about to bolt, but Snape was in the way. He smirked slightly; he hadn't lost his knack for scaring people.

'No sir, we were merely having a friendly discussion' came Malfoy's smooth reply.

After he dealt with them, docking a few points from Gryffidor- which caused Weasley to mutter something under his breath- he sent them to their common rooms. He stalked along the dungeons to his personal lab and started on a batch of potions for the infirmary.

All of a sudden, he felt his left arm explode with pain, gasping he nearly fell on his knees. There was a crash of glass as the box of empty vials he had been carrying dropped to the floor.

He was being summoned.

(Later that evening)

The trio of friends sat in the common room: Ron was playing Wizarding Chess with Dean, Hermione was using her wand to knit small jerseys (she had progressed from woolly hats) with the letters S.P.E.W. on the front, while talking to Ginny about some campaign. Harry sat working on his potions essay. Hermione had already finished hers and Ron had not made it into the class this year. Harry had to admit he was more than amazed he was able to take it, so he worked extra hard to give Snape no reason to throw him out the class. He glanced at his watch, it was getting late. Suddenly he felt as if his scar had burst into flame, he let out a yelp of surprise, clutching his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

'Harry? Harry!' some one was shaking him by the shoulders. 'Harry, are you OK?' The voice, no voices sounded concerned and frightened.

'Yes' he replied gruffly, pushing the hand away and trying to stand. He felt a bit disorientated and hazy. It didn't help someone was touching his shoulders and face.

'Come on, lets go back to the dorm, Harry.' Ron's voice sounded so far away… He nearly fell over; hands caught him and grudging he allowed himself to be guided up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. As he sat on his bed, the haze began to disappear leaving him with a headache.

'Harry, what happened?' Hermione asked, worry evident in her tone.

'He's really angry.' That was all he said but his friends understood. Harry had started having flashes of the Dark Lord's emotions last year so this wasn't exactly new.

'Get some rest Harry, you look like your going to collapse.' Hermione said gently.

He did what he was told, wondering vaguely as sleep wrapped around him what Voldemort was so angry about...

.

He was floating above a circular stone room. It was cold. Voldemort sat on a throne like chair, the flickering torchlight throwing shadows across his reptilian face, his red slit eyes focused on the man knelt before him.

'You have failed, have you not?' His high, cold voice cut the air.

'I am sorry my lord I tried, please forgive m-' but the Dark Lord cut him off.

'Crucio!'

The man screamed in agony as the curse hit him, he lay on the floor, his body convulsing in spasms as the spell inflicted suffering on him no man ever could.

Suddenly the curse was lifted, the man's body stilled, his breathing ragged. He lifted his head but when Voldemort caught the movement he spoke the curse again.

Harry gasped in shock as his Potions Master's tortured screams filled his head…

.

Harry jolted awake, his scar searing, as he felt the cold water hit him. He looked up, pressing himself into the headboard of the bed as he saw the blurry figures standing over him.

Four concerned faces stared down at him, Neville holding the glass, which had contained water. Harry relaxed slightly, his hand feeling for the small rock hanging around his neck.

'Sorry, you wouldn't wake up.' Neville said sheepishly.

'You all right then?' Dean asked.

'Yeah, just a dream, sorry.' Harry slipped out of the bed, dried himself with his wand and put on his dressing gown and glasses.

'Had us right worried mate, you sure?' said Seamus, noticing Harry's paler than usual face.

'Yeah, just go back to sleep, I'll be fine.' Harry managed to say this in a much calmer voice than he felt. He ached all over, he must have been thrashing around during the vision.

He walked out the room, down into the common room, pulling out his vial as he did.

He was sipping from it just as he heard the soft footfalls behind him.

Damnit...

'What's that then?' Ron queried.

'Um, um,' come on think! 'Just a potion to stop me having more, erm, visions.'

He managed to splutter out. How could he have forgotten about Ron?

'Oh,' Ron sounded a bit suspicious 'We going to see Dumbledore?'

'If its OK, Ron, I'd prefer to go on my own'

'Um, OK.' Ron sounded hurt but he tramped up the stairs up to the dorm nevertheless.

As Harry crept down the corridors and the stairs to Dumbledore's office, his scar twinged unpleasantly, the potion only working on physical pain.

Snape must really be getting it he thought

He thought about the man he had come to respect, though he would never admit it. He no longer blamed his godfather's death on him as he had at the end of last year. It was not Snape's fault Sirius had died, it was his and his alone. Though it was hard to let go years of mutual loathing. And it definitely didn't stop Snape hating him, he wouldn't be happy if he found out what Harry seen that. And however much he may have respected the older man, it didn't stop the fear that Harry felt.

Harry contemplated not telling the Headmaster, but quickly dropped the idea. It wasn't going to help anyone, though he didn't think that Volemort had tried to kill Snape- he would of known. There were a few upsides of curse scars.

He was brought out of his reflections upon arriving at the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office. He spoke the password (lemon drops) and dutifully clambered up the winding stairwell to tell the headmaster of his vision.