Friday, 1st December

Harry yawned as he slowly sipped from his cup of tea.

He already couldn't wait until tomorrow, and today's breakfast wasn't even over yet! But he hadn't been sleeping well for two or three weeks now, and it was always because of that same damn dream - a windowless corridor, flickering torches on blank stone walls, and a plain black door that, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get open.

At least he could sleep in tomorrow morning. He'd officially caught up with all of his homework he'd been letting slide, and had imposed a strict two-hour limit on all of his visits to the basilisk, not wanting to let so much homework build up again.

He still had detention with Snape every night, although the man usually let him go just after an hour, and sometimes after even less. Dumbledore hadn't specified how long his detentions should be, after all, just that they had to take place every day from now until the Christmas holidays - which had made Umbridge terribly upset. Harry still grinned at the memory of the face she'd made when he'd told her. High Inquisitor or not, even she couldn't override a detention set by the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself.

Noticeably, Snape never kept him late enough to miss Quidditch practice on the days that it took place, but when Harry had challenged him on it, Severus had merely given him one of his signature looks and said, "I've grown rather accustomed to seeing that trophy in my office, Potter. It'd be best for all our sakes if it stays there".

The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match had taken place the week before, with the Puffs winning the game by just thirty points. His own next match wouldn't be until February sometime, but that didn't stop Montague from working them half to death three nights a week.

"Look lively" Theo muttered, pulling him from his thoughts, "Snape's coming right at us".

Harry blinked and straightened up, willing the caffeine in his tea to work faster as their very irritated-looking Head of House strode briskly towards them. He wondered, briefly, if he'd done something stupid again without realising it, but thankfully, Snape's gaze was burning into the boy seated next to him instead.

"Mr Zabini" he said, his voice tight as he reached them, "I regret to inform you that your stepfather has just this morning passed away after an unfortunate potions mishap".

A nearby first-year froze, looking startled and horrified and two seconds away from crying. Blaise just looked bored.

"A potions mishap, sir?"

"Yes. Apparently he was suffering from the common cold, decided to drink a Pepper-Up potion, and somehow, impossibly, drank a Baneberry potion instead". Snape's eyes were as furious as Harry had ever seen them. "Why he happened to have such a potion on his person is still a mystery to us all".

"I'm sure he had a perfectly innocent and valid reason, sir" Blaise replied calmly, "Am I Floo-ing out or is mother picking me up at Hogsmeade?"

"Hogsmeade. You are to leave immediately".

"Immediately? Can't I at least have breakfast first?"

Severus gave him a look. "No. Consider it your penance for making me do this every single year since you arrived at this blasted school!"

And with that, he spun on his heel and marched back to the Head table. Blaise watched him go with a sigh.

"Honestly?" he said, standing up, "That's fair. Although I think he's more mad at the fact husband number seven mixed up two completely different potions than anything else".

"They are rather different from one another, colour notwithstanding" Theo agreed mildly, "Your stepfather must have truly been suffering from his, uh… common cold to have made such an egregious mistake".

"That poor, poor man" Blaise replied solemnly, shaking his head, "The brain fog gets to us all… Here, d'you think I can make a quick sausage sandwich to bring with me without Snape seeing?"

"No" Harry said dryly, "And if you try, you'll likely find a similar red potion in your own goblet next time".

"... Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him. Alright then. I'll see you all in a couple of days, I guess. Owl me the homework, will you? I'll go mad with boredom otherwise".

He gave him an amused look. "Aren't you supposed to be grieving?"

"Trust me, writing our next History of Magic essay will make the tears come real fast" Blaise promised, grabbing his bag, "And besides, I'm sure number seven would've wanted me to keep my grades up".

"You don't even remember his name, do you?"

He gave a careless shrug. "It'll be on the headstone".

Saturday, 2nd December

After a much-needed and well-deserved extra two hours in bed, Harry gratefully accepted a now-cold slice of toast from a knowing Theo and headed for the library.

Their Saturday study group had become something of a tradition by now, and after the entire Towler debacle, Daphne had started joining them too. She had considerably warmed up to Harry since that night, and even some of the older Slytherins who'd once eyed him cautiously had relaxed around him as well. If he'd known all it took to gain their acceptance was to throw a few Dark curses around, he'd have done it weeks ago!

Or… well… maybe not, but still!

Either way, Towler had spent the past week in the infirmary, and whispers were abound as to why. The Slytherins had kept their mouths shut on the matter, and since no one else had seen or heard what had happened, rumours spread like wildfire with each one more outlandish than the last. It wouldn't be long before they found out the truth - Daphne and Astoria's father, the Viscount Rutland, was in the process of pressing charges against Towler. Since he had just turned seventeen, he wasn't able to play the poor innocent child card and, if the charges stuck, he'd be tried as an adult.

Harry didn't think he'd get any prison time, however - yes, he'd attacked Astoria unprovoked, as the girl's memories had proven, but it hadn't gone far enough to be classified as assault. Best case scenario, Towler would be expelled, given his history of bullying younger students. The real damage would be to his image - and Harry's appearance-affecting spells most certainly hadn't helped matters there either.

It would be in the newspaper one of these days, he knew, although the Greengrass's had sworn to keep Harry's own name out of it at his request. Olivia Greengrass, the Viscountess Rutland, had even written him a letter of thanks, saying that the family now owed him a favour after what he'd done. The word 'boon' hadn't been officially used, but Harry felt that it was rather heavily implied. Being owed a favour by the current head of the Crossbenchers in Wizengamot was nothing to scoff at either.

Harry and Theo stepped into the library, the soft murmur of students already busy at work greeting them. The crisp scent of parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of ancient tomes. At their usual table by the arched window, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Daphne were already seated, heads bent over their books and notes.

Hermione glanced up at their approach and offered a smile. "Finally! I was beginning to think you two got lost along the way".

"Not quite" Theo replied, sliding into a seat next to Daphne and setting his bag down.

Harry sank into the chair beside him, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it even just a little. It would seem that for all of Malfoy's styling prowess, not even he could tame the infamous Potter hair fully - but at least now, it looked messy on purpose. Giving up, he took a bite of his toast instead, which was now alarmingly stiff, but he was grateful for it anyway.

"Where's Zabini?" Hermione asked idly as she shifted a stack of parchment to make room for their books, "I thought he'd arrive with you. He's always here on Saturdays".

Harry swallowed his bite of toast, washing it down with a sip of water. "His stepfather died yesterday. Snape came to get him during breakfast".

Ginny's head snapped up, her wide eyes darting between him and the two other Slytherins next to him.

"What? Oh my gosh! Is he okay? Zabini, that is, not- not his stepdad, because obviously not, but is Blaise okay?!"

Across from him, Harry watched as Ron mouthed the word 'Blaise' with a very confused expression on his face, while next to him, Daphne gave one of her signature "I know something you don't" smirks before pointedly turning back to her Arithmancy essay.

"He's fine" Harry replied reassuringly, "They weren't, uh… very close".

Daphne let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort, but when he glanced over at her, her expression was as carefully blank as ever. He shot her a knowing look anyway, and she smiled back at him ever-so-slightly.

"But- But it still must be awful for him!" Ginny continued, a red flush on her cheeks, "I mean, it's his stepdad! The guy his mum married! He must feel something because of his death!"

"Yeah" Theo muttered under his breath, "Relief".

This time it was Harry's turn to snort, but he quickly covered it up with a cough and then tried his best to look sympathetic.

"They really weren't that close, Ginny. The Countess married him only a few days before Blaise left for Hogwarts, so he never really knew the man, and it was more like a, uh… marriage of convenience than anything else. I'm sure they'll miss him, but… it's not that deep".

She still looked half flustered and half appalled, while Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as if realising the things he'd left unsaid, whereas Ron was still staring at his sister in bewilderment.

Hoping to change the topic, Harry pulled out his own Arithmancy essay and turned back to Hermione. "Have you been able to find any books on what Professor Vector was talking about? I'm been searching the library since Wednesday and haven't had any luck so far".

In response, she pushed a copy of New Theory of Numerology by Lukas Karuzos in his direction.

"I haven't found anything in the Grammatica section, but I found this on the Numerology shelf" she explained, "Karuzos has a brilliant way of explaining things that Carneiro and Wakefield don't have - I think it's because he's a muggle-born too, and had to learn these things from scratch like we did".

He gladly accepted the book, flipping it open to scan the table of contents.

"You know, I've always found textbooks written by muggle-born authors much easier to learn from" he remarked absentmindedly, his finger trailing down the page.

Hermione rounded on him immediately. "Right?! They explain everything step by step, and it's done so much more practically than how anyone else writes!"

Theo tilted his head consideringly. "That's true, but textbooks written by pure-bloods or half-bloods often include more detail - nuances that muggle-born authors might not even think to mention because they're not as steeped in wizarding culture. It's like… learning a language from a native speaker instead of from another learner".

She frowned. "But if you're teaching a language to someone who's never spoken it before, they need clarity more than they need nuance. What's the point of including details no one can understand? It alienates people! Books and learning should be accessible to everyone!"

"That depends on the purpose of the book" Daphne interjected smoothly, her quill poised over her parchment, "Is it meant to teach first years, or is it meant to deepen the knowledge of someone already familiar with the subject? A textbook for beginners and one for experts will naturally look different".

Theo nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Some books are foundational, and others are meant to expand on that foundation. Muggle-borns might focus more on accessibility because they know what it's like to start from scratch, but pure-bloods often assume that foundational knowledge already exists. It's not necessarily ignorance - it's just a difference in perspective".

"But isn't that an issue?" Hermione asked, her frown deepening, "If foundational knowledge is assumed, how are people like me - or Harry, or muggle-born first-years - supposed to catch up? It perpetuates the divide!"

Daphne arched a single brow. "Does it? Or does it encourage self-reliance? Not everything should be spoon-fed. Part of education is seeking knowledge for yourself, isn't it? I doubt you've ever had trouble doing that, Granger".

Harry suppressed a grin. Her tone wasn't biting; it was respectful, almost teasing. He could tell Hermione recognized it too, because her lips twitched, though she quickly masked it with her usual fervor.

"Education isn't just about individual effort" she pressed, gesturing wildly, "It's about opportunity! Making knowledge accessible doesn't mean spoon-feeding - it means giving everyone the tools they need to succeed. Without that, we're just reinforcing inequality!"

Theo tilted his head thoughtfully, his expression serious. "You have a point, but some would argue that too much accessibility waters down the quality of the content. If everything's simplified, then where does excellence come from?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Daphne cut in, her voice calm yet pointed. "There should be a balance, though. Granger's right - knowledge has to be accessible to be useful. But, Theo, you're also right - oversimplification can strip away meaning. The real challenge is finding that middle ground".

The three of them had quickly fallen into a rhythm, debating with a quiet intensity that captured Harry's attention completely. He leaned back in his chair, watching them with a small, fond smile. Ginny and Ron, on the other hand, looked utterly bewildered.

Ginny nudged her brother and whispered, "Do you understand what they're talking about?"

Ron shook his head, eyes darting between the three debaters as if watching a particularly intense Quidditch match. "Not a clue. Something about books, I think?"

Harry had to bite back a laugh, his focus shifting back to the trio. Hermione was leaning forward, her passion evident in the way her words tumbled out. Theo, ever the composed, nodded along, occasionally tilting his head as he dissected her arguments. Daphne remained poised, her responses sharp but never unkind, her cool demeanor adding weight to her words.

What struck him the most was how much they seemed to be genuinely learning from each other and considering each other's point of view.

Hermione, who had once been wary of the Slytherins - and understandably so given that they were from traditionally Dark pure-blood families and she was an emphatic muggle-born - was clearly starting to appreciate their intellect. Theo, still quiet and reserved, seemed almost intrigued by her fierce sense of justice. And even Daphne, who was cool and composed twenty-four-seven, appeared to be letting her guard down somewhat - something that had taken literal months, a plethora of Dark Magic, and the dramatic rescuing of her sister for her to do around Harry.

He probably should've been annoyed about that; jealous, even, but instead, he felt… happy. Almost inexplicably so. There was a warmth bubbling up deep in his chest as he watched the way they challenged each other, their differences becoming less like barriers and more like bridges. He considered jumping in except… except something held him back. He liked seeing them get along without him, liked seeing them re-evaluate their opinions of each other without him prompting them to do so. For the first time, he felt like this wasn't just two opposing groups he'd dragged together, but the beginnings of a real friendship.

At any rate, they were far less volatile to listen to than Ron and Draco were, and Harry made a mental note to find some common ground between that pair too. Perhaps, if he could find something that they were both equally passionate about, they could start to overcome their childish differences as well…

Wednesday, 13th December

The rest of December brought with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth years. Malfoy, Ron, and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached.

They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ("You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it" Hermione moaned), to watch over first and second years spending their break times inside because of the bitter cold ("And they're cheeky little bastards, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year" Draco muttered), and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ("He's got dung for brains, that one!" Ron snapped).

Harry was busy too - he'd be leaving the castle at the end of the week to go back to Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Remus. Although they'd moved back into their own house in Soho once he'd left for Hogwarts, Dumbledore apparently thought it crucial that Harry should only leave the school under the highest security possible and that it was only Order headquarters that provided that much-needed level of protection.

Harry wanted to point out that he'd be getting the very un-protected train back to London along with everyone else and that there was nothing stopping Lord Slytherin from snatching him away with his dastardly evil claws during the hours-long journey - but then he thought better of it, given that Dumbledore could very well use that reasoning as an excuse to keep him at Hogwarts over Christmas.

Either way, it meant that he was spending every spare moment he could visiting the basilisk under his Invisibility Cloak and apologising for his oncoming three-week absence. She took the news as gracefully as any snake would - which was to say, not very gracefully at all - and Harry had to bribe her with the promise of multiple mice, rabbits, and other small edible creatures upon his return to get her to stop sulking.

Some regal and magnificent queen she was.

He still had nightly detentions with Snape, too, and since it was almost end of term, the man actually had work for him to do, cleaning cauldrons and taking an inventory of the potions supplies room, which kept him in the dungeons far longer than the weeks before - but at least it kept him away from Umbridge.

All in all, it resulted in a very exhausted Harry Potter that night as they all pulled off their robes and put on their pyjamas in silence. Crabbe and Goyle were already asleep, Malfoy was performing his nightly ablutions, and Blaise, unfortunately, was still missing and unlikely to return to Hogwarts until the new year - apparently, his mother rather enjoyed playing the role of grieving widow and always tried to stretch it out for as long as she could.

Harry carefully removed his contact lenses and got into bed, but didn't bother to pull the hangings closed around his four-poster - instead, he stared at the patch of starry sky just about visible through the window next to him.

"Goodnight" Theo whispered, climbing into his own bed.

"'Night" he replied softly.

An owl hooted somewhere out in the night and slowly, ever so slowly, Harry felt himself drift away.

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone… He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly… It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors… He was turning his head… At first glance, the corridor was empty… but no… a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark…

Harry put out his tongue… He tasted the man's scent on the air… He was alive but dozing… sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor… Harry longed to bite the man… but he must master the impulse… He had more important work to do… But the man was stirring… a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt… He had no choice.

He reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood… The man was yelling in pain… then he fell silent… He slumped backward against the wall… Blood was splattering onto the floor… His forehead hurt terribly… It was aching fit to burst…

"Harry! HARRY!"

His eyes shot open. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat, his bed covers were twisted all around him like a straitjacket, and he felt as though a white-hot poker was being applied to his forehead.

"Harry!" Theo was standing over him, looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him! He rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"He's really ill" said a scared voice, "Should we call someone?"

He had to tell Ron, it was very important that he tell him, he needed to tell him that-

That... what? That he'd had a bad dream? That he'd imagined attacking his father? That he'd… He had imagined it, right? It had been just a very bad dream? But then why was his forehead hurting? Why had he gotten sick like that? Why did he have the horrifying, stomach-churning feeling that-

That it had all been real?

"Harry!" Theo was gripping him by the shoulders now, looking very, very pale, "Harry, focus!"

Focus. He could do that. He could focus - Harry was very, very good at focusing.

Taking great gulps of air, he pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again even as the pain half-blinded him. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever been in before, but it certainly wasn't pleasant, and it all seemed to be originating from his head.

But he would survive it.

He always did.

"I'm going for help" said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps striding quickly towards the door, and it was this sound that finally snapped him out of it.

"No!" he said, and then winced at how hoarse his own voice had sounded, "No, I- I'm, uh… I'm fine".

"No, you're bloody well not!" Theo snapped, "Malfoy, get Snape".

"No! Malfoy, don't! I'm- I'm fine. Really. There's nothing wrong with me" he managed to get out, although he was still sweating and shivering feverishly, "Honestly, it's probably just… just something I ate, that's all. For dinner. I must've… must have had an allergic reaction to something".

He couldn't make out Draco's face, as far away as he now was, but he was relieved to see the amorphous blond shape turn away from the door and face him again instead. Now that he was coming back to his senses, Harry was acutely aware of Slytherin's locket burning against his chest, and he only barely resisted the urge to clutch it for comfort.

"If it was an allergic reaction, then you would've been sick instantly" Theo countered, still holding tightly onto his arms, "Your body wouldn't have waited this long to react!"

"Food poisoning, then". Harry managed a weak smile, though it likely wasn't very convincing. "I'm fine, Theo, I promise. I just need to… clear my head, maybe splash some cold water on my face. A shower will sort me out, no problem".

"You're not fine" he said flatly, "You need to go to Madam Pomfrey-"

"No". Harry cut him off, shaking his head. "I'll go to Madam Pomfrey first thing in the morning if I still feel off, I swear, but right now, I just need a minute. I'm already feeling loads better, and I'm not going to wake her or Professor Snape up over nothing!"

It wasn't entirely a lie - he was starting to feel a bit better. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, at least, although he was still shaking uncontrollably, his body wracked with shivers he just couldn't stop!

He wondered, distantly, if he was going into shock.

Theo's frown deepened, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to argue, but eventually, he sighed and released his grip.

"You better keep that promise" he said, glaring at him as if trying to will him into obedience.

"I will" Harry replied earnestly, "I'll go straight to Pomfrey the second I start to feel sick again".

Crabbe and Goyle, who had woken up at the commotion, looked on silently, their expressions unreadable. Draco had returned to stand at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and face carefully blank, but his furrowed brows betrayed his concern. He looked away quickly when Harry's eyes met his.

"Right, everyone, back to bed" Harry said, his tone firmer now, "I'm fine, really. There's no point in us all losing sleep".

Draco hesitated a moment longer, but then gave a curt nod and climbed back into bed. Theo lingered by Harry's side, his lips pressed into a thin line, before reluctantly retreating to his own bed. The dormitory fell into an uneasy silence as Harry grabbed his towel and a clean pair of pyjamas and made his way to the bathroom.

Under the steady spray of the shower, Harry leaned against the cold tile wall, letting the water cascade over him. His forehead still throbbed faintly, and the image of Mr Weasley slumped over, blood pooling beneath him, refused to leave his mind.

That wasn't a dream, he thought grimly. He'd felt too much - had felt too vividly. The taste of the air, the crack of ribs under pressure, the warm gush of blood... It had all been too real. But even if he was wrong, even if it had been just a dream… was he really going to take that chance? If Arthur Weasley's life was at stake, he had to act now and damn the consequences.

But who should he go to? He hadn't been lying when he'd said he didn't want to wake Snape up over nothing, and going to Dumbledore seemed like just as bad a decision. McGonagall, perhaps? But what could she do about it? Even if she did believe him, she had no reason to know where Arthur Weasley even was tonight. That corridor hadn't been his home, it hadn't been anyone's home - it had looked far too official and… impersonal for that. And yet, there had been something about it that had almost seemed… familiar…

Harry shook his head and straightened, turning off the water and drying himself quickly. There were only two people he could really go to about this, two people who would, hopefully, choose to believe him when he said it wasn't just a particularly gruesome nightmare. Sirius and Remus might be furious with him for waking them up this late, but if it meant saving Ron's dad, it would be worth it.

When Harry returned to the dormitory, Theo was still awake, propped up on his elbows and watching the door. His expression softened in relief when he stepped in, and something deep in Harry's chest warmed at the sight.

"Still alive, see?" he said lightly, though he knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Theo sighed. "Barely, from the look of you".

"I'm fine, really. I'll go to Pomfrey tomorrow morning if anything feels off, I promise".

The boy studied him for a moment before lying back down. "You'd better".

Someone, most likely Theo, had already cleaned the floor next to his bed and cast a freshening charm on his sheets, which caused that warm feeling in his chest to burn hot enough to rival the locket.

Harry climbed into bed, drawing the hangings closed around him and casting a quick silencing spell. In the privacy of the enclosed space, he retrieved the two-way mirror from under his pillow and held it in his hands, his pale, drawn, almost haunted reflection staring back at him.

He took a deep breath, reminded himself that a life could quite literally be at stake here, and then clearly said, "Sirius Black".

It took a moment, one long heart-hammering moment, but finally, the mist in the mirror cleared to reveal his godfather's familiar, albeit bedraggled face.

"Pup?" he mumbled, blinking blearily, "Wha's wrong? You alright?"

Next to him, Remus appeared, squinting at the mirror with a worried expression. "Harry? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry for waking you" he started, "And… Well, it might be nothing and, if it is, then I'm sorry again, but- but there's no one else I can think of to tell and if it is something then I'd never forgive myself if I didn't say anything and-"

"Harry". Sirius looked more awake now, his worry no doubt spiking his adrenaline. "Whatever it is, whatever happened - you can tell us. We won't get mad at you, I promise, even if- if whatever it is you're talking about does turn out to be nothing… So. What is it?"

He gave into the temptation to reach up for the locket, which was thankfully hidden out of his godfather's view, and used its soothing warmth to steady himself. The pain in his forehead was almost gone completely now, but the images that flashed behind his eyes were as visceral as ever.

"This is going to seem like an odd question" Harry began slowly, "But… do you know where Mr Weasley is tonight?"

Sirius and Remus froze, matching expressions of unexpected shock on their faces, before they gave each other a fleeting, indescribable look.

"... Why are you asking, pup?" Sirius finally replied, which was… interesting, to say the least, but Harry could unpack all of that later because right now-

"I think he's in trouble" he said, "I can't tell you why, or- or how; there's not enough time to get into all of that right now, but… but I really think someone should check on him".

They shared another, strange look.

"Have you told the Headmaster this?" Remus asked cautiously, "Or even Professor Snape?"

"I'll tell them tomorrow, I promise-" or, one of them, anyway "-but right now, I really, really think that someone should check on Mr Weasley as soon as possible… Right now… Like, immediately".

"... Alright" Sirius finally said, "Alright, pup, I'll- I'll go myself".

"And take Moony with you".

"He'll have a hard time going without me" Remus replied, although his expression was still full of concern and- was that a hint of fear?

Harry swallowed thickly. "And preferably take someone else as well, just in case".

"... Okay".

"Like a doctor or a- a healer, or whatever it is that they're called here".

"Pup". Sirius's voice had changed. "Harry, you're starting to scare me. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine" he replied automatically, "But Mr Weasley's not. So. You know… Go".

"... We'll call you again tomorrow" he promised, "And remember, it's only two days till Christmas break! So we'll- we'll see you then, too, okay?"

"Okay. Mr Weasley. Now. Go!"

"Alright, alright, we're on our way! We'll talk to you tomorrow, pup".

And with one last worried look, they were gone.

That morning at breakfast, all four Weasley children were missing from the Great Hall.

Harry moved through the day in a daze. He couldn't remember what classes he went to or what he learned, and he was beyond grateful to not have to deal with Umbridge until DADA tomorrow.

Theo kept shooting him worried looks all day and, surprisingly, Draco did as well. Harry knew that they'd told the girls what had happened based on the subtle side glances he got from them, too, but he was too exhausted and on edge to care.

Cormac McLaggen, a loudmouth Gryffindor in the year ahead of them, had tried to send a tripping hex his way just before Transfiguration and Harry, his magic already dangerously close to the surface, had automatically lashed out with a spell he didn't even remember casting but one which had sent McLaggen flying down the corridor and crashing into the stone wall at the end of it.

McGonagall had come out of her office at the sound of the commotion and had ordered another sixth year to take him to the infirmary. She'd been acting odd all day too, her mind clearly elsewhere, and she'd only docked ten points from Slytherin when Harry knew that at any other time he'd have been given at least a week's worth of detention. McLaggen ended up with a minor concussion, and Theo and Daphne decided to walk just that little bit closer to Harry for the rest of the day.

Hermione seemed distracted as well. He'd asked her in Arithmancy where Ron had gone, but she'd paled, then grimaced, and then told him in a genuinely apologetic tone that she wasn't allowed to tell anyone. It only further confirmed his suspicions - it hadn't been a dream. What he'd seen had actually happened. It was real.

And Harry... felt… strange.

His detention with Snape that evening couldn't come fast enough. He waved off Theo's suggestion to tell the man he was sick and get a night's reprieve. After Sirius and Remus, their Head of House was perhaps the only person in the entire world that Harry felt able to discuss this with.

Severus was also, perhaps, the only person in the entire world who would willingly give him some much-needed answers.