As promised, here is another chapter. A third one may follow, but I make no promises.

As always, no money is made, no copyright infringement intended

When Hallowe'en came, the entire castle had been outfitted with several decorations, and the food had been made to sound scarier: bloody pasties, eyeball soup, severed fingers, and many other amusingly made dishes were labelled terrifyingly so.

Harry noticed Hermione had found it very amusing and sipped his blood of sacrificial lamb's juice (tomato juice). Fake bats flapped overhead, white sheets had been charmed to make ghostly wails with eyeholes cut in them, and several plastic pumpkins and skulls housed sweets of all kinds- both Muggle and magical.

It was a Saturday which meant no lessons, except for his Occlumency with Snape, but that was in the morning, leaving the rest of the day for them to enjoy. Hermione had opted to go with him, wanting to practise her wandless magic some more, and fit in some homework as well.

They met Snape in his classroom and Harry was immediately assaulted by Snape, barely having a chance to slam his defences in place, but he managed it, forcing the professor back out of his mind with a laugh.

Snape's lips twitched until he schooled his face into a scowl. "Passable, Potter."

Harry snorted indelicately and was tempted to flip him off, barely restraining himself. "Yeah, whatever. We both know you were expecting me to fail."

"Indeed, though you need to be expecting an attack at any moment, Potter. You'll have no hope against the Dark Lord if you cannot get your defences up in an instant. The trick is to never let them down."

Harry blinked. "That must be exhausting."

"Sometimes," Snape conceded. "But it is a survival skill that needs to be in place. You have to remember, Potter, while I am the Dark Lord's most trusted, I am also the most easily suspected among the ranks of the other Death Eaters."

It made sense, Harry knew. He would need to learn to always have his defences up or be able to spring them in a nanosecond. If the Dark Lord broke into his mind, there would be no getting him back out, of that he was certain.

"Do you know what he was looking for when you both clashed in my head?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione dropped the glass vial she had been wandlessly levitating and yelped. "Sorry!"

Snape cleared the broken glass and conjured her another one without saying anything. "I believe, from what I have gathered, that he was seeking information on the prophecy."

"Oh. I thought he already knew it?"

Snape fidgeted awkwardly, much to Harry's complete shock. "No, the Dark Lord only knows part of it."

"That's something that's always bothered me," Hermione piped up. "How could he have known the prophecy at all if You-Know-Who was searching for it in the Department of Mysteries?"

The fidgeting grew worse. Harry frowned slightly. "I have no idea. I just assumed that somehow, word got back to him after Trelawney made it. Dumbledore showed me the memories of it being said, but he said that he didn't recall anyone being there to overhear it."

Hermione rose and folded her arms, her fingers tapping on her elbow. "It's really quite a mystery."

Snape coughed awkwardly. "Well, either way, that is what he was searching for."

Harry sighed. "Well, I hope whoever told Voldemort is happy with themselves, it got my parents killed."

Hermione hugged Harry tightly, frowning when she saw all the blood drain from Snape's face. "Sir, are you feeling alright?"

"I believe that should be the end of our lesson for today. My apologies, I am feeling rather unwell and need to rest."

Harry winced. "I'm sorry, I forget you were friends with my mum."

"Really, Potter, it's quite alright…"

"No, it was tactless. I'm sure you're just as angry as me about their deaths. Well, my mum more than my dad," he carried on, waving Snape's words off.

"Potter…" Snape tried again.

"I can't imagine what must have been going through someone's head to want to give information to Voldemort so he can murder a baby," Harry snorted.

"Harry…"

"I mean, honestly, is it hate that drives someone to do that? Did they hate my parents? Me?"

Harry probably should have realised that Hermione would figure it out first, especially when she tried to get him to stop talking, her hands pulling on his arm to try and get his attention.

"It was me," Snape whispered. "Albus lied to you, he knows I overheard the prophecy, it was me who reported it to the Dark Lord. It was all me."