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Harry's back was drenched in a cold sweat, his head pounding worse than ever before. He took his fist out of his mouth and found it was bleeding profusely, the scarlet blood dripping like a sticky syrup down his arm.

Why was everything so much worse this time?

"Harry?" Sirius said.

He was standing at the top of the steps, but as soon as he saw Harry, he practically leaped (leapt?) down them.

Harry tried to sit up, but as soon as he moved, the nausea he was experiencing heightened. He suppressed it, breathing hard.

Harry kept still and waited for the world to stop spinning all around him. Sirius' face loomed above his. As soon as their eyes met, his face looked even more grim.

"Harry… are you okay?"

What a stupid question to ask him. Harry shook his head, to out of breath to form words. Sirius seemed to see this, and he backed up slighting, giving Harry some much-appreciated space. Harry took a couple of deep breaths and was able to level out his breathing somewhat.

"I-I'm fine." Harry said, and he forced himself to sit up.

Apparently, it was still too soon because he flipped over and vomited violently.

"Sure," Sirius said, clearly not believing him. Harry didn't blame him; he wouldn't have either.

Harry didn't say anything, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He slumped against the stairs for support. He was afraid he might vomit again if he moved more, but he knew he had to at least remain upright.

He didn't want Sirius to worry more than he already was.

Harry reached up and touched his scar, which was still pounding and burning. As soon as he touched it, an electric shock pulsed through him. He pulled his hand sharply away from his head, grimacing.

"What?" Sirius asked urgently.

"Nothing, it just— it burned when I touched it." Harry said, feeling sick again.

Sirius took out his wand and reached for Harry's hand, which was still bleeding freely. Harry watched as the wounds closed up and healed. Soon, only red marks were left.

"Thanks,"

Sirius nodded and then proceeded to clear away his vomit too.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, turning to him.

"Sure, just great." Harry said sarcastically. "Sorry," he added, rubbing his temples, careful to keep his hands far away from his scar.

"It's fine." Sirius said. He lapsed into silence, seeming to sense that Harry needed a second.

Harry didn't need a second, though; he needed an answer. He needed an answer to the question which had been pounding in his brain since his eyes had popped open.

Why was everything so much worse this time?

His scar was still burning, his stomach still tied in knots, and his breathing was sharp and jagged.

After a while, Sirius asked, "Can you stand?"

"Maybe." Harry said, glancing up at him.

"You don't have to. You can wait—"

"No." Harry said firmly. He should stand. He should show Sirius that he was okay and that this was nothing more than a slight discomfort.

So, he used the rail to hoist himself onto his feet. This was another mistake on his part. Harry's legs buckled from under him.

He saw the edges of his vision going black as he lowered himself back onto the steps. Harry lowered himself back down as slowly as he could, his vision swimming all around him.

"No," Harry said, his body and voice shaking, "I can't— not yet."

This was not just a slight discomfort, and they both knew it.

Sirius didn't say anything but continued to look at him, his face a mask of concern. Harry hated to look so weak, but there was nothing he could do about it.

His legs simply wouldn't hold him. He felt extremely sick now, and his head was pounding; still, all he could think about was what that strange message could mean for him.

"I'll be right back, Harry." Sirius said, "Donottry standing again!"

"I won't." Harry said with a sigh, and Sirius left him sitting on the steps.

Harry's hands wandered up to his scar once again, and he tried to touch it. It sent another electric shock pulsing through his body, but this time he didn't react.

Why would his scar have started hurting when he touched it again? It seemed as though these trips into Voldemort's mind were getting worse and worse for him each time they occurred.

He sat there in the crisp morning air, trying not to think about what this could mean. It now seemed Voldemort had noticed Harry and was even summoning Harry to his head.

The only thing Harry could do was try to block Voldemort, something he had not had much success with the last time. Even though he had managed to keep Voldemort away, he had projected his memories everywhere and had not been able to prevent Voldemort from coming the next time.

In fact, his scar felt much worse the next time.

True, it was nothing to the pain that was now in his head. In fact, it was almost laughable he had even considered that pain. Nevertheless, he was beginning to feel better.

Harry's stomach was finally settling, and the pain in his forehead was starting to go away little by little. Harry still felt weak, though.

He took a few deep breaths to steady his rapidly pulsing heart. He thought he would probably be able to stand now, but he had told Sirius that he would remain seated. He focused on the cool morning air and how lovely it felt on his sweaty face.

Just then, he heard a rustling sound coming from a nearby bush. He glanced over and could have sworn he had seen something.

He quickly glanced away and took out his wand, pretending just to be playing with it. Then, out of the blue, he sent a jet of red light into the bush.

He thought it collided with something solid, though he couldn't see what. Maybe it was hidden in the bush? Harry frowned and tried to stand; however, he found he was still too weak.

He fell back onto the steps, frustrated.

He tried again, and this time, he forced his shaky legs into submission. He held on tightly to the rail, knowing he was liable to fall at any moment.

"Harry!" He jumped in spite of himself and turned, trying not to make himself dizzy again. There was Sirius, and standing behind him, his face in shadows was Dumbledore.

"I told you to stay seated!" Sirius said, rushing over to him.

"I-I know, but there was someone in the bush. I just hit them." Harry tried to explain.

"Which one?" Dumbledore asked urgently, looking around the yard. Harry pointed to the bush in question, and Dumbledore rushed past him and over to it.

Sirius tried to force Harry to sit, but Harry shook his head. "It feels better to stand. I'm okay now." Harry assured him.

Sirius looked as if he was about to argue this point, but Dumbledore said, "There is no one here, Harry. Are you sure this is the bush?"

"Yes, I'm positive." Harry said. "I know I hit something."

"Maybe you imagined it?" Sirius suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said, not convinced.

"Well, there is no one in any of these." Dumbledore said, checking the others around it."Now, for the real reason I came."

He stood and turned back to where Harry and Sirius were. His face was still rather dark, but Harry could hear the worry in Dumbledore's voice as he asked, "What happened to you, Harry?"

"Hasn't Sirius told you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"He has, but I want to hear it from you too." Dumbledore said, walking back towards them slowly.

"My scar hurt, and I went into Voldemort's mind. He pushed me out, and I got sick." Harry summarized.

"What did you see when you went inside his head?" Dumbledore asked, finally close enough for Harry to make out his face.

As soon as their eyes locked, Harry's scar burned with a savage pain, and he felt running through him a sickening hatred which was not his own.

It felt as if someone had pressed a hot iron onto his forehead.

He collapsed to the ground, clutching his head once again. He could hear fragmented voices and see blinding flashes of color, but he could no longer comprehend anything.

All he knew was this overwhelming pain, which he could not stop, which would consume him.

Harry no longer had a body; it was just his scar, pulsing with endlessly sickening pain. He could no longer think, no longer even breathe; he was nothing.

All he could feel was this inexpiable hatred towards Dumbledore and Sirius. At the thought of Dumbledore's name, his scar hurt worse than ever before, and he could surely not live through this.

And he felt his mouth move, though he didn't know or care what he was saying.

This pain must end soon.

But, after Dumbledore, he thought of another name. Someone he knew he didn't hate. Sirius' face popped into his head, and his scar burst wide open, pain engulfing every part of his body.

Still, Sirius stuck in his mind, his last beacon of hope.

Hope there would be an end to this.

Hope even to die.

Death would be better than having to endure more of this.

Yet, Sirius stuck with him, and soon he was joined by the faces of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.

"Come on, Harry," they seemed to be saying, almost like a chant, "Push him out."

But Harry couldn't. He didn't even know if there was something for him to push out anymore. He couldn't tell if he had a body anymore. His whole being was consumed in pain. And it kept building, worse and worse, though Harry could not see how it could get any worse than this.

Yet his friends stayed, cheering him on. He latched onto them, the only link back to reality, the only peace in all of this torture. This awful agonizing pain had to end at some point.

But it didn't.

It kept building, growing worse than Harry could have possibly imagined. And Harry felt his mouth move, speaking words that he could not hold onto.

"Focus, Harry," his friends were saying, "Focus harder."

Harry didn't know what he was supposed to be focusing on, but he would do anything to take his mind off of this pain. So, even though it almost tore him apart, he focused, and in his mind came an image of Draco.

His scar burst open with pain greater than he could possibly bear, and then…

Harry's eyes flew open as he bolted upright. His head was pounding, pulsing with a pain which felt like it would be there forever. Still, it was better than what he had just endured.

"Harry?" Sirius asked cautiously. "Harry, are you okay?"

"Sirius, give him a minute." Dumbledore said. He was hovering right over Harry.

Harry's eyes traveled to the professor, and his hand jumped to his forehead as his scar gave another particularly painful burn. He averted his eyes and waited for the burning in his forehead to lessen.

His shirt was drenched in sweat, and he was shaking violently. His head felt as though it had been ripped open and put back together again by someone who did not know what they were doing.

"Harry?" Sirius asked again.

"S-still breathing" Harry mumbled. He could barely concentrate, barely stay with them. The pain was still intense, though now, at least, it was bearable.

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Harry said quietly, his hands pressed against his forehead as though he could push the pain out. "I looked at him, and then… that."

"What happened, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked the old man.

"I— can't be sure." Dumbledore said, and Harry could clearly detect the worry in his voice. "Harry, what did you see?"

He didn't answer right away, hesitating for a moment. He did not want either of them to think that he was crazy or making anything up.

"Go on," Dumbledore pushed. Harry sighed heavily.

"Both times were very confusing. The first time, it was like he was talking to me while I was in his head."

"Was there anyone else in the room?" Dumbledore asked quickly.

"No, just him."

"And what did he say?"

"He said there was a connection between us now, and I will pay for my betrayal. He said I can't hide from him, oh, and he said he has plans in the works."

Dumbledore looked out into the yard, clearly unsure of what to do next. "Is that it?" Dumbledore asked eventually.

"Yes, then the second time, it was nothing, j-just pain."

Sirius' hand was protective on Harry's shoulder. Though Harry appreciated the gesture, it would do nothing if Voldemort came back for round three.

"When you look at me now, does it hurt? Your scar, I mean."

"Like murder, why?" Harry asked. Dumbledore didn't answer but started to pace in a circle around the yard.

"If it wasn't a vision," Sirius said, "Then what just happened, and why did he—"

"Sirius." Dumbledore said in a warning tone.

"Why did he what?" Harry asked urgently, "What happened?"

"Nothing." Sirius said, though he was not convincing.

Harry tried to rise to his feet, but Sirius forced him to remain seated. So they both sat in complete silence, watching Dumbledore pace around and around, lost in his own thoughts.

"Harry," Dumbledore said finally, careful not to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Has your scar been hurting like this a lot?"

"Yes, but not quite like this. It is never so bad." Harry stopped there and allowed himself to breathe before continuing. "The first time, he was surrounded by Dementors, and he was giving them orders. The second time, he was surrounded by Death Eaters, and he was givingthemorders. Both times, he saw his own reflection and seemed to push me out of his head."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said. "That's— interesting."

Dumbledore lapsed into silence once more. Harry tried to rise again, but Sirius gave him a stern look.

"Let him stand, Sirius." Dumbledore instructed. Slowly, Harry was able to get to his feet. He held on tightly to the railing, making sure not to let go for fear of falling.

"Can you walk?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Probably not, but I could try if you wanted."

"See if you can," Dumbledore said, still not looking directly at him.

So, even though Harry didn't think he would be able to, he let go of the railing and tried to take a step. As he had expected, he was extremely unstable and would have fallen forward face-first if he had not thrown out a hand and grabbed Sirius' shoulder.

"Sorry," He said, taking hold of the rail again.

"Maybe a few more minutes then." Dumbledore said. "When you are ready, Harry, I would like to take a walk with you so we can talk.."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"If you want, I can leave." Sirius offered.

"No, I would rather wait till Harry is better." Dumbledore said.

Sirius shrugged and said nothing. After a moment, he turned to Dumbledore. "Dumbledore, can I speak with you inside for a moment?"

"Of course." Dumbledore replied, and he followed Sirius back into the house, closing the door behind him.

Harry was aching to know what they were saying, especially since he was positive it was about him. Then he remembered a spell he and Draco used to use to spy on people all the time.

"Auditoevidenter," he said, pointing his wand at his ear. He tilted his head towards the door, and he heard Sirius' voice clearly.

"Why would you ever have told him that he needed to go after those objects or whatever they are? He is in pain and won't say it, and now he is going to go on some stupid mission and be in more pain and do nothing about it!"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, "Calm down. I will help Harry learn how to block Voldemort from entering his mind. As for this mission, I never told him he needed to. I merely showed him what he needed to see in order to decide on his own."

"He can't block him!" Sirius said, "He tried, and he showed us his memories. Awful stuff, mind you; we didn't even tell him some of what we saw, only one part of it. But he tried to block him, and it drained him and made it get worse the next time. Blocking him doesn't work. And have you seen his eyes? They are scarlet! And what was with that last excursion or whatever you want to call it? If death is nothing then kill the boy, what does that even mean?"

"Sirius, I am afraid it was not Harry who was talking, but Lord Voldemort through him. In fact, he could still be in Harry's head for all we know. That is the reason his eyes turned red."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that Voldemort tried and very nearly succeeded in possessing Harry." The room was silent for a moment as Sirius processed what he had just heard.

"What can we do now?" Sirius asked. "What do you mean?"

"You are going to send him to look for powerful objects that could destroy Voldemort while he possesses Harry? That seems like quite a risk, not only to everyone going with him but to Harry himself and the rest of the world, for that matter. Harry is very powerful and strategically placed to be a great weapon for Voldemort." Sirius said.

"I know," Dumbledore sighed, "But I am not sure what else we can do. The only way we can hope to defend against it is to have Harry learn how to block him."

Sirius didn't answer, so Dumbledore said, "I will either train him myself or have someone do it, but he will get trained. In the meantime, Harry should have a guard at all times, not just for his protection but for the sake of those around him. We do not want Voldemort to find out what we are doing…"

"Auditonormalem" Harry whispered.

He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His whole body wanted to reject it. He couldn't stay there, couldn't face them again after hearing what he had just heard.

So, even though his head was still pounding, and his legs were still shaky, he forced himself to start moving.

He knew nothing except that he had to go immediately. Harry forced himself to take a shaky step away from the house, away from Sirius and Dumbledore.

He took another and stumbled; however, he did not allow himself to fall. Falling would be a sign of weakness, and he would not look weak, not right now, even though no one else was around.

He took another step and then another, stumbling along, not sure where he was going, but only knowing he had to get away.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the invisibility cloak, which was thankfully still in his pocket. He threw it around his body, shielding him completely from view.

Eventually, he found himself on the outskirts of the woods. He knew he couldn't walk much further, but he didn't want to stop there.

They would find him.

He turned and faced the house again. They had still not noticed his absence, though he was sure they would at any moment.

Then, without hesitating for another moment, he twisted on the spot and disappeared.

The bush thing has absolutely nothing to do with the plot; I just couldn't figure out how to get Dumbledore away from Harry at first. You can just say he was hallucinating.