No sound was made in the Great Hall. Snape stood on the teacher's platform, the same way Voldemort had done the night previous, and looked down on the students. A few glared back, others were glancing at the table. The beds were gone; everyone had been instructed to take a seat and wait for their new Headmaster to speak. The Death Eaters paced among the tables, making sure the students remembered to keep silent.

"A little announcement to all of you," Snape started, looking across the hall without emotion, "before we will resume the day. There are a few adjustments you need to take in account.

"First of all, since there are no more houses, new sleeping arrangements are to be made. We have expanded the Slytherin dormitory. All boys are to use this dormitory. Your bedrooms are still divided by the years you're in. You will, however, share the same common room, of course. We have done the same with the Hufflepuff's dormitory. This one is only accessible for the girls. Again, you share the bedroom with the students of your year."

The teenagers tore their glare from Snape to share looks with each other. Every expression displayed disbelieve; Ron raised his eyebrows to Hermoine, who looked back at him, with traces of bewilderment on her face. Ginny was hissing silently.

"Second," Snape resumed, without acknowledging the shifts around the students, "you will find new rules concerning blood status. Muggleborns will experience limitations, whereas purebloods are supported into getting the treatment they deserve – "

People started to whisper now, looking concerningly at their Muggleborn friend or sharing angry looks of astonishments with one another. The Slytherins, however, applauded approvingly. It caused the Gryffindors to roar up too, shouting insults across the table.

"Silence!" bellowed Alecto Carrow with her shrieking, wheezing voice, pointing her wand to a couple of Gryffindors, who had been standing, ready to throw their plates at the laughing Slytherins. Her threatening wand seemed to be enough; slowly the silence returned.

"Thank you," said Snape slowly, nodding his head to the stocky little witch. "We will elaborate the extent of this new rule in a new subject to your curriculum. You will find it on your school schedule, the classes are mandatory. The subject Muggle Studies will be equally compulsory.

"Thirdly," continued Snape, his voice a little higher, drowning the anew, soft whispers across the Hall, "since there are no more houses, there'll be no more point system. This means that we will manage a different disciplinary system. You will come to find out that we will handle violators more severely.

"And lastly, some of you were appointed prefects and Head boy and girl over the summer. This decision of the previous Headmaster shall be revoked. Only purebloods are allowed to carry this noble title. The new appointing will take place after lunch. Now it is time to fresh yourselves up. New robes will be provided for you, you will find them on your new beds in your new dormitories. You will meet here for lunch and then continue the day with lessons. It is, after all, still the start of a new term. Is anything unclear?"

"What is going to happen to our Gryffindor Tower?" asked Ron loudly, highly offended. He had deep bags under his eyes; a result of having no sleep at all. His question was met by agreeing murmurs from other Gryffindors, all equally offended and not shy in their hostile glaring at Snape.

"Yes, and our Ravenclaw Tower?" asked another boy. The students around here nodded fervently. They too seem to be offended.

"Silence," whispered Snape softly. "Weasley, Carmichael, you two will be the first to receive detention this year. You shall also be the first examples of the consequences with the new discipline system. Report yourselves to Alecto Carrow after I'm done."

The sloping-shouldered, stocky little woman gleamed sadistically towards Ron and Eddie. Ron gave her a look of utter disgust.

"As to answer your question," Snape carried on, "we've no use of the towers. They'll remain as they are for the time being, until we will find another use for them. You are not allowed to enter. But then again, you will not be able to: the portraits shall be removed."

Snape looked around the Hall. His lips curled into a malicious smile when his eyes rested upon the defeated Gryffindors. The Slytherins were applauding again, jeering at the other students, but nobody replied their mocking this time. Slowly, Snape raised his hand, gesturing for silence.

"Since there are no more questions, you are dismissed. We will continue after lunch."

The students got up. The girls followed the former Hufflepuffs to their new dormitory; the boys reluctantly followed the Slytherins, having apart from them, no idea where they were heading to. Eddie Carmichael slowly got up and walked over to the female Carrow. Ron, however, didn't move. Hermoine remained seated as well, with a terrified look on her face.

"Didn't you hear your Headmaster?" wheezed Alecto Carrow at Hermoine. She strode over to their table. "Or do you want to get punished as well?"

"Just go, Hermoine," hissed Ron, without looking at her. "I will be fine. Go, I'll will catch up with you later."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," giggled Carrow. "No listen to your boyfriend. Leave!"

Hermoine gave another look at Ron, mumbled a soft "good luck" and hurried towards the doors. There she glanced back over her shoulder, but the doors were moving, shutting her out and blocking the sight of Ron. She turned away from the door. With her sleeve she wiped the tears out of her eyes.

"Come on, Hermoine," said Parvati silently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her other arm was around Lavender, who too had tears in her eyes.

"Padma, help me please," she said to her twin sister. She did, taking over Hermoine and holding her in a soft embrace.

"Come on, we will be alright. Let's follow Hannah and Susan," Padma said, pointed at the two girls at the end of the hallway, both looking extremely anxious. Hermoine hiccupped and nodded. Together they began walking, but froze when they heard two boys scream.

"Ron!" screamed Hermoine, and turned back. "No! No, we've got to go back. Ron!"

"We can't help them," said Padma, but her voice was cracking. "Come on, let's go."

Hermoine was still sobbing, but allowed Padma to drag her away, while Parvati supported a crying Lavender.

A few corridors further, Voldemort pushed open the door to Snape's quarters. The room was empty, Snape and the boy were gone. He knew Snape was attending to the students. And since he'd left Harry to weak to be able to do anything, Snape must have locked him up again. With his wand, he opened the door to Harry's new cupboard and found the boy curled up on his tiny bed, shivering uncontrollably.

"Wake," he hissed, but Harry didn't open his eyes. He pointed his wand at him. "I said, wake! Rennervate."

A flash of brilliantly colored red light lit Harry up. It didn't work. His eyes twitched for a few seconds, but remained closed. Harry's shivering was the only sign that he was still alive.

"Enervate!" Voldemort tried again, using a different, more powerful spell. This time, Harry opened his eyes and gave a cry of pain. His hand shot at his scar. Voldemort stepped back when Harry leaned over the edge of his matrass and threw up.

"Evanesco," whispered Voldemort, looking mildly disgusted. He waved his wand; the vomit vanished. "Get up."

Harry seemed unable to do so. Still shivering, he fell back onto the bed. Voldemort felt his patience ran out. He grabbed Harry by his robes and hauled him into the room. Harry sank to his knees immediately, turned sideways and fell on the floor. His trembling increased.

"You are weak, Harry Potter," said Voldemort, while looking down at the sick boy in front of him. "I daresay you have learnt your lesson now, have you not? As you are not able to bear the consequences of your defiance. Now, get up. We do not have all day…"

"L-leave me a-alone," muttered Harry. He was aching everywhere, from his toes to his pounding head. He didn't know where he was and how he had gotten here. He felt Voldemort's presence more than he could hear his voice. His stomach protested with sickness. He felt the urge to cry, to shout, to break free from his aching body and to black out again, all at once. Voldemort gave a soft chuckle. He reached inside his robes and took out a tiny flask.

"Ah, and there you are again… Here, drink this," he said and crouched down to hand over the flask. Harry managed to look at it, and shook his head.

"I won't."

"You will drink," said Voldemort dangerously. "It is not poisonous. This potion will help you feel better. Now drink or I will force it down your throat!"

"Get off me!" Harry continued to shake his head and turned away. Voldemort grabbed his hair, forced his head backwards, so that he was facing the ceiling, unable to move. He pressed his lips tightly together, but Voldemort shook his head viciously, making Harry scream with pain. A weird, prickling substance was forced in his mouth; the peppery burned his palate; he coughed. He couldn't prevent the potion from burning his throat too; Snape's room came into sharper focus, and so did Voldemort himself… He looked furious, with his red eyes inches away from Harry's. He coughed again; the aching was scantily leaving his body – even his scar was less painful; he didn't shiver anymore. Voldemort let him go, and Harry fell backwards again, not prepared for the absence of his support.

"That is better, is it not?" said Voldemort slowly, stowing the potion back into his robes. "Show me some gratitude, Harry, if you do not want me to repeat last night…"

Harry scrambled to his feet, avoiding Voldemort's incessant glare. He still felt weak; exhausted, as if he hadn't slept for weeks, which was partly true.

"You're going to that anyway," said Harry, "you want to know the secret that I'm keeping, and I'm not going to tell you, so you'll probably torture me again."

"Oh, but you will tell me, Harry," said Voldemort maliciously, "and yes, I think torture will be a very efficient tool to get me what I want…"

Harry suppressed a shudder. He finally met Voldemort's red eyes and glared back at them. "Are you sure? Because I haven't told you, even after you drove me almost insane. I will never tell you."

"Harry, there are more ways than pain to torture you. We shall see how you can resist them," said Voldemort softly. "But first, you and I will go on a little trip. Follow me."

"Were are we going?"

"You'll see," answered Voldemort, while heading towards the door. He waited for Harry to come, but the latter didn't move. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"My patience with you is running out, foolish child, and I am not sure I will forgive your defiance any longer," sounded Voldemort's calmest, but most dangerous voice. "I advise you to obey. Now."

Harry slowly walked toward him. The moment he was close enough, Voldemort seized his wrist and pulled him through the doorway. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar, and though he was getting used to the burning, he still had trouble with not screaming out loud.

"Let me go," said Harry and struggled to pull his arm away. "I will follow you, okay? Just let me go."

Voldemort chuckled softly in his ear. "Your scar is hurting you, is it not?"

"Yeah, that," breathed Harry, now closing his eyes to the pain. "And I don't want you to drag me around."

Voldemort let him go. Instead, he pushed Harry in front of him. "Walk then."

The pain in Harry's head lessened. Feeling unnervingly vulnerable, with Voldemort right behind him, he walked. Voldemort led him to the entrance hall, through the great big doors, across the field and towards the gates. All the while, they didn't speak to each other and Harry didn't hear any other sounds. He silently wondered where the others were and to where Voldemort was taking him. When they reached the gates, Voldemort grabbed his wrist again. The pain in his forehead pierced him, and he couldn't breathe as he was pressed very hard from all directions.

And then they hit solid earth and smelled salty air. Harry fell to his knees, and his scar relaxed a little when Voldemort relinquished him. Harry squinted around through the darkness. The air around them had frozen: Harry's breath caught and solidified in his chest. Shapes moved out in the darkness, swirling figures of concentrated blackness, moving in a great wave around what seemed to be a heavily great tower, their faces hooded and their breath rattling… Harry's heart sank. Dementors. Voldemort had Apparated them at Azkaban. He was going to get locked up, he was going to be forced to endure Dementors; he was going to be persuaded into telling Voldemort's his secrets, the torture Voldemort had mentioned moments ago…

In the distance, he heard Voldemort's voice, becoming more clearer and harder, ringing into his ears: Watch your friends die a painful death… Their deaths will be on your hands… You have permitted others to die for you…

Harry couldn't see. He was blinded by thick, dark fog; drowning him… Suddenly, Voldemort's voice was replaced by another, a warmer voice, but the spoken words were dreadful nonetheless… There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing… He's gone…

"Leave our presence," ordered Voldemort, who was still standing. "I need the boy. Leave…"

Harry felt himself fall forward onto the grass. Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, he opened his eyes. The dementors were slowly drifting away, towards the great tower and the voices of Lupin, telling Sirius was gone, and Voldemort were no longer audible. Somebody was lifting him up by his arm, his scar was searing again, and Harry felt himself getting dragged towards the tower, towards the entrance.

"N-no," he whispered, trying to wriggle out of the tight grip he was in. He struggled hard and viciously, but Voldemort didn't let go. They entered a cold, rotten hall. The putrid stench filled his nose and he was still blinded by fog.

"Do not resist," hissed the cold, high voice in his ears. Still trembling, Harry struggled even harder and fought hard to keep himself conscious; he couldn't pass out now, he had to escape… Voldemort forced him upstairs, pushing him hard against the steps.

"Take him to the others," commanded Voldemort to someone Harry couldn't see. He heard shrieks of laughter and felt two strong hands close around his arms. Someone was hoisting him up, pulling him to the first floor. He struggled again, and received a sharp blow on his cheek. He felt his legs getting pulled up. Two strong persons were holding him, bringing him up, floor to floor, until his legs got released; he slammed hard against the ground. The tight grip around his arms was gone as well; his head collided with the floor and for a moment, everything went black.

"HARRY!"

"Oh my god, Harry! No!"

He heard shouts and whimpers. Struggling to remain conscious, he raised his head and tried to find the source of the screaming.

"What have you done?" a familiar voice yelled.

"Silence!" screamed a high-pitched voice. Harry heard more yelling, a cry of pain and a muffled thud against something metal. Laughter echoed through the room.

"You have been deluded by Albus Dumbledore into thinking that this boy could be your last little scrape of hope," rang Voldemort's voice, drowning the laughter of the Death Eaters. "I brought him here, so that you can all witness the downfall of your foolish, little hero."

Something kicked Harry hard in his side. He muffled a yell, and rolled over to his stomach. Crouching on all fours, he tried to scramble to his feet. Swaying, he staggered towards the bars and fell back onto the ground. Something soft touched his head, caressing his hair. He leaned into the touch, but a sudden flash of light sent him through the air, away from the soft hands, and he hit something hard and solid. A blast of insults erupted through the air; their cries acting like a trigger: the crowd of prisoners took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse, confusing Harry, and he tried to block out the noise, which made his pounding head ache even worse.

"I said, silence!" cried Voldemort. He waved his wand; there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "How dare you? How dare you defy Lord Voldemort? It is over! Do you understand now? You have been misguided into thinking that Harry Potter could ever be stronger than me. He is nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him, and I will make you all watch."

"You keep away from him!" Lupin shouted, breaking the silence. "You will never be as great as he is!"

"You can keep us here, in your so-called training program, punish us for our resistance, but we will never join you, and neither will Harry!" assented George. The crowd joined in with shouts of fury.

"Are you quite sure?" chuckled Voldemort softly, and the Death Eaters snickered; Bellatrix' screech rose above them all. "I already made Potter beg for mercy! Watch."

Voldemort turned to Harry. He grabbed him by his robes and swung him around. He was forced on his knees and felt Voldemort nails scrape against his skin as he ripped his already torn robes even further. Harry heard gasps of horror and anguish; the others must have seen the Dark Mark on his back. Terrified, he was frozen to the spot; he knew what was coming now…

"For your befouled retorts, your hero will pay the price. I think fifteen strokes should suffice… Flagellum cruciate."

Harry started to tremble. Automatically, he placed his fists on the ground and waited for the first strike. Voldemort's whip made contact with his skin; Harry bent his head and pressed his tongue against his teeth; he didn't want to scream. The second strike followed, and the third; it was getting much harder not to shout. In his agony, he heard the others yell again, some even begged for Voldemort to stop, much like he'd done. The room was ringing with the Death Eaters' laughter.

After the seventh blow, Harry couldn't hold it in anymore. All the screams he had held in, now burst out, drowning the shrieks of the Death Eaters. With the tenth strike, he felt tears in his eyes. Without being able to stop himself, he continued screaming. He wasn't able to get away, he wasn't able to stop shouting, but he refused to beg. He wasn't going to give Voldemort that satisfaction; determined to make his plan fail.

The thirteenth blow sent him to the ground; he didn't know where he was, whether he was standing or lying down, he didn't even know his own name. The world revolved in darkness and silence. Gone was the laughter of the Death Eaters, gone were the cracked voices of the Order, and gone was intense, white-hot burning in his back. He was drowning in an endless blackness, and sank deeper and deeper…

Voldemort stopped. His red eyes found the aghast expressions of the Order, who were standing nailed to the ground. It was a shame Harry hadn't begged this time, but it didn't matter… He would make him the next time… He turned his eyes to the darting Bellatrix and met hers, filled with relished glee. He gave her a small smile.

"My dear Bellatrix, would you be so kind to remove this piteous sight from our eyes?" said Voldemort, as his eyes rested on Harry, surveying the handiwork he'd inflicted on Harry's back. The dark outlines of the Mark were more visible than ever; it looked like he'd been poked long with an iron brand. The skin around the impregnated skulk was ripped open; blood trickled down into Harry's robes.

"Of course, master," she sounded delighted, sending a fleeting grin at the Order, who looked back at her with the most aversion they could manage. "Were shall I take him? The former cell of my dear old cousin?"

"No, take him back downstairs. I require his assistance in another demonstration shortly," replied Voldemort, strolling around the empty cells, before halting to another, opposite of the room. An eruption of rage sounded from across the room as Bellatrix kicked Harry hard on his side, which sent him towards the stairs. He rolled over to the steep stone step, hit it with a muffled thud and began to roll down fast. They heard him fall; the sounds of hitting each stone step after stone step bounced from the walls. And then the pounding noise stopped with a final crash, telling them Harry had reached the bottom step at last.

"Teachers of Hogwarts," Voldemort addressed the small group of Witches and Wizards, standing in the cell opposite of the Order. McGonagall looked sick to her stomach as she continued to eye the staircase on which Harry had been pushed down, all colors drained from her face, professor Flitwick gave a soft whimper and professor Sprout faced Voldemort rather haughty, all traces of her normally warm face gone.

"I do not wish to waste your talents, I do not wish for your knowledge to be lost…" he continued, ignoring the hostile faces. "Lord Voldemort respects the teachers of Hogwarts, yes… He values your skills, your abilities… And so, I shall give you a choice.

"Return with me to Hogwarts, were I shall allow you to continue teaching, were we can start to build towards a new purified future! Or you can choose to remain here, locked away, wasting precious competence… Consider your options wisely, this is an one-time offer…"

McGonagall glanced at professor Sprout, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and then turned her head to her other colleagues. They too nodded in silent agreement; there was no choice really… If they could help the children in any way, they must accept. McGonagall turned back to Voldemort and looked over his shoulder to Lupin, who gave her an encouraging tilt of his head.

"We accept," McGonagall said, and shifted her gaze to Voldemort.

"What will happen to them?" professor Sprout asked, and gestured to the cell opposite.

"They will follow the original plan," answered Voldemort lazily and waved his wand. The barred door burst open, allowing the prisoners to walk through. "Now, Dolohov shall escort you downstairs. Be warned, my dear professors, if you choose to escape, the boy will pay the price. I shall put him through pain beyond imagining, and I shall look for you myself and kill each and every one you hold dearly… Make no mistake."

He stepped in front of the row of shivering teachers and descended the stairs, without looking back at the remainder of the prisoners. He found Bellatrix at the end of the hallway, with Harry laying, still unconscious, at her feet. From behind, he heard footsteps emerge. Dolohov walked past them, followed by the professors, as he led them outside through the heavy, big doors. McGonagall halted when her eyes fell upon Harry, and without a second thought, she walked over to him.

"Potter," she murmured, crouching down to shake his arm softly, ignoring Bellatrix and Voldemort, who looked down at the two of them in disgust. Bellatrix snorted.

"As he does not seem to be fit to walk, you shall bring him back to Hogwarts," Voldemort told McGonagall. "You can manage him, he weights close to nothing."

Trembling, she closed her hands around Harry's arm and lifted him off the ground. Voldemort was right; she didn't have to use any amount of strength. Supporting him, by pulling his arm over her shoulder, she whirled into the air and felt another presence, Apparating side-along with them, until her feet found solid ground again, at the gates of Hogwarts.

Voldemort appeared shortly after her, keeping a close eye at the two of them. McGonagall now realized he'd used their connection; making sure they weren't able to escape. She started walking towards the castle, half carrying, half dragging Harry with her, whose limply body still felt as light as feathers. This wasn't good. What on earth had Voldemort done to him? She glanced to her side and found Harry's lulling head, covered in dried blood and fresh cuts. His glasses were gone, she noticed, and his robes were ready to fall apart any second.

She reached the Entrance Hall, where Dolohov had lined up the other teachers, handing them back their wands. She received her own, taking it with her remaining hand. Professor Sprout hurried over to help her lay Harry back onto the ground. McGonagall waved her wand over Harry; his robes glowered up, knitted themselves back together immediately and rested upon Harry's thin body, clean and free from dried up blood. But before she could mend the broken skin, she was blown backwards against the wall.

"Minerva!" shouted professor Sinistra and professor Flitwick together, as McGonagall collapsed on the floor. Professor Sprout crouched down beside her, but McGonagall already lifted her head, looking thoroughly angry at her attacker.

"I do not remember telling you to patch Harry up," whispered Voldemort softly, as he appeared from behind Dolohov, who kept his wand raised at the two women. "Consider this to be a warning. Now, enter the Great Hall. Snape shall inform you about the our policy here at Hogwarts."

They hesitated, all staring down at Harry, but before they could move, the doors of the Great Hall opened and two boys were thrown into the hall. They slammed against the floor hard, rolled over each other and laid still.

McGonagall gasped. She recognized the two boys immediately. "Is this the new policy you're talking about?" she shouted at Voldemort. He didn't answer; he looked down at Ron and Eddie without interest and turned towards Snape, who had emerged from the Great Hall.

"My Lord, Ackerly just sent word. He and Rowle found Slughorn, they're bringing him here," Snape said, without looking at the other teachers.

"Good," said Voldemort. "As you can see, your old colleagues gladly agreed to resume their teachings. You can walk them through the new changes around here. Send Ackerly to me when they arrive. I shall speak with Horace Slughorn in person."

"Of course, my lord."

Voldemort raised his wand, pointing it at Harry and gave a little flick. Harry stirred. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Are you ready for round two, Harry?"

"No," McGonagall spat, glaring at Voldemort with such intense hate, Harry had never seen from her before, not even with Umbridge. "You leave him alone."

Voldemort's ice-cold laugh rang through the hall. "Be careful. You do not want me to punish the boy for your rudeness, do you?"

He looked away from McGonagall and turned his eyes back at Harry, who was staring up at him with an absent look in his eyes. He had seen this look from his other victims before; they all showed this when they were close to giving up entirely. Maybe it was indeed time to leave Harry alone; to allow him to rest. The stress on his body was taking its toll: Another session would surely destroy him forever…

"However, you are right. The boy does not seem to be able to hold on any longer. I shall grant him a moment of rest. Amycus, Alecto, summon the other children. It's time for an early lunch and then some studying. It's it the beginning of a new term after all."

The Carrows, who had been standing in the doorway, grinned and bowed. Together, they stepped over Ron and Eddie and disappeared out of sight. At the same time, the doors to the hall opened, and four men stepped inside, dragging in a struggling older man.

"My, are you fat!" one of the four men spat, tugging the man by his arm. "Ackerly, help. I'm not going to be able to hold his weight."

But Ackerly had let go the moment he saw Voldemort, and bowed. "My lord, we've found Slughorn. He tried to hide himself as an armchair. He didn't come quietly, eventuelly Greyback backed us up mid duel," he said and pointed to the wolfish man behind Rowle. "We brought Rookwood alone as well."

"Thank you, Ackerly. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude. All of you," said Voldemort softly. He turned towards the balding, fat man, who stood frozen. "Horace Slughorn, my old teacher… Welcome."

The man didn't answer. His mustache was trembling with fear, his shiny pate gleamed with sweat, and his gooseberry colored eyes didn't dare to meet Voldemort's red ones. Instead, he looked down at Harry and gasped. Voldemort followed his stare and laughed.

"Ah yes, this is Harry Potter. As you can see, he is not the strong hero as you probably expected him to be. Ackerly, Rowle, escort our new guest to a comfortable room. I have much to discuss with him." Voldemort waited for Rowle, Ackerly and Slughorn to walk in front of him and then followed the three man through the hallway. The moment they were gone, McGonagall and Flitwick turned to Ron and Eddie and revived the two boys. They woke with a soft cry of pain. Harry lifted his head; some live was blown back into him when he witnessed Ron on the ground.

"Ron!" he gasped weakly. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Ron looked a little hazy for a moment. His eyes found Harry and he breathed hard. "Harry! You're alive! Blimey, what happened to you? Are you okay?"

"How very touching," Antonin Dolohov sneered, pointing his wand at Ron and Harry. At once, the professors whipped out their wands. Dolohov laughed. "Don't even think about it."

"Enough," said Snape slowly. "Dolohov, lower your wand. I need to have a word with them. Potter, Weasley, Carmichael, go the Great Hall. Wait for your classmates there."

His legs barely supported him, but somehow Harry managed to get up slowly. Swaying on his feet and with his head pounding, he offered his hand to Ron, to help him stand up as well. A mixture of sickness and relieve washed over Harry. He was back at Hogwarts, he wasn't in Azkaban anymore… Ron was okay, he was alive. Voldemort had left them alone… Supporting each other, they staggered to the Great Hall. Harry let himself fall down at one of the tables and almost slumped back into darkness. It was due to Ron's questions he managed to stay awake.

"What happened to you, Harry, are you okay? We've been really worried, mate. You're bleeding everywhere. What happened?"

"Voldemort was a little angry with me," Harry answered. His fingers trailed over his back, worried that Ron would see the Mark, but he felt his robes whole again. Relieved, he put his hand back at the table. His movement was, however, not missed by Ron.

"What's wrong with your back?" he asked.

"Nothing," Harry lied quickly. "Just a little sore. I've fallen down a lot."

"Is that why you're covered in blood?"

"Yeah… I was hiding in the Room of Requirement and Voldemort found me there. He blasted the room apart… I got caught in the impact," answered Harry, avoiding any details. He looked at Ron: He too was covered in injuries. "What happened to you?"

"Er.. Snape and the Death Eaters were a little angry with me, too," Ron answered, with a faint smile which didn't reach his eyes. "They used the Cruciatus Curse on me and Carmichael."

"What! Why?"

"We didn't quit agree with the new arrangements…" said Ron, looking from Eddie, who sat at the table next to them, to Harry. "I'm fine now, though."

Harry got the message, Ron didn't want to talk about it. He changed the subject. "Listen, Ron, the Order is in Azkaban. I saw them there. They're alright for now, but the Death Eaters are there and the-" Harry swallowed – "the dementors are there too."

"How do you know?"

"I was there this morning. Voldemort wanted to show off that he's the boss of me," Harry answered grimly, "but Ron, we've got to help them."

"How do you want to do that? If you haven't noticed, we're kind of in a tight spot ourselves."

Harry didn't answer. Truth to be told, he didn't really feel like going back, being thankful to be back at Hogwarts. Why had Voldemort changed his mind? Didn't he want to torment him by locking him up with the dementors and the Death Eathers? Like he's doing to the Order… His heart throbbed painfully against his chest. The Order was still in danger. Would they be able to hold on long enough…? Would they be able to escape eventually…?

Harry placed his elbows on the table and let his head rest between his arms. He was so tired. His back was still aching and every movements reminded him of the Dark Mark. He wondered whether he would be able to cover it up forever… Surely, it must be more visible than ever right about now…

"Where's Hermoine? Ginny? Neville? Everyone?" said Harry sleepy, massaging his scar.

"We've been given new dormitories," growled Ron angrily. "We are to sleep in the Slytherin's nest now."

"What?" gasped Harry, raising his head out of his arms. "Are you joking?"

"No," answered Ron grimly. "The girls have been given the Hufflepuff's souterrain, though. Nice and comfy."

"They have divided us by gender?"

"Yeah. And by blood status. According to Snape, Muggleborns are screwed. Purebloods will get treated like royals. I know…" Ron said, looking at Harry's disgusted expression. He shrugged. "But what did you expect?"

The doors to the Great Hall opened. The students were walking back inside, all dressed in green and silver, looking either scared or distasteful. Even though they now shared the same dormitories, they still took place at their old table, according to their former houses. They started to notice Harry and froze at the sight of him. Harry knew they were impressed by his appearance, for he was still trembling a little, and underneath the dried up blood, covering his face and neck, the sickly paleness was clearly visible. Luckily for him, their attention was also turned upon Eddie and Ron, who looked equally sick and miserable. Just when Harry turned away from their gaze, somebody ran into the Great Hall.

"Ron! Ron, where are you? Are you okay?" sounded Hermoine's worrying voice. "Oh there you are – HARRY!"

She flung herself around him and Ron, grabbing them in such a tight embrace, it hurt. Her arm pressed hard in Harry's back and he couldn't hold it in.

"Aah – ow!"

Hermoine let go immediately. Even Ron seemed relieved. "I'm sorry!" she said hastily, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I was so worried with both of you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Hermoine, really. Good to see you too," answered Harry.

Ron nodded. "We're alive," he said and gave Hermoine a weak smile. "How are you? How is the Hufflepuff's basement?"

"Hannah was in tears," said Hermoine quietly and sat down next to them. "They've apparently changed everything in there. All green and silver. Nasty Pansy said it felt like her old common room, though she wasn't really glad. None of the Slytherin girls were. Well, none of us really."

"Of course not. You look awful in this uniform," said Ron, looking down at her robes. He was still wearing the Gryffindor colors, having not been able to change into new robes. Hermoine said something back, but Harry didn't hear. The voices of the other students were buzzing in his ears, making him feel dizzy and disorientated. He closed his eyes and slumped his head back onto his arms. Something was tucking on his robes. He wanted to raise his head, but it was too heavy.

"Harry, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…" he moaned softly, "yeah, just a little tired…"

And then, everything went black.

Note:

Hi guys, so sorry for being late with another post. I've tried to upload yesterday, but it didn't work (I don't know why)… I've rewritten this chapter a dozen times; couldn't get it right. I'm still not very satisfied though. I had a lot of ideas and directions, but couldn't fit them all together in this chapter. The ending is a little rushed, I wanted to upload before taking another week… Hopefully, you'll still like it.

Comments, criticism, advice, et cetera are always welcome!