The day dawned overcast and undecided as to whether it wanted to rain or not. Harry had slept soundly, and didn’t wake up until Remus came up to check on him after breakfast. He stretched and rolled over, grinning up at his godfather.
“Well, you look lots better this morning, Harry.” Remus handed him the glasses from the bedside table.
“Yeah, I feel better too.” Harry threw the covers back. “And had a talk with Sirius.” He told Remus everything that Sirius had said to him, as he got dressed, including the part about Remus’ speech, which made the older man laugh.
“Glad to see that Padfoot agrees with me. Truly, Harry, do you feel better?”
Harry looked up from putting on his socks, a solemn look on his face. “Yes, I do today, but it is like this ball in my chest that never really goes away, Remus. Some days it just feels heavier than others.”
“And none of it is fair, either, Harry, but we have to make the best of what is handed to us.” Remus looked down for a moment. “I fantasized as a kid about what it would be like to be normal, and did the ‘why me’s too, after I was bitten. Finally, years later, I had friends that helped me accept who I was and what I was.”
He glanced up at Harry suddenly, his expression fierce. “I meant what I said last night, Harry, you are all I have left, and I will do everything in my power to keep you and me from getting killed. I promise you that!”
It was Harry’s turn to reach out a hand to his godfather, realizing that he wasn’t the only one carrying burdens. By unspoken agreement, no more was said, and they went downstairs in search of toast. It did not surprise Harry when Professor Dumbledore came in and joined them. Harry immediately told him what Sirius had said to him.
“Sirius is correct, you know” Dumbledore looked at him over his half-moon glasses, a twinkle in his eye. “I would have found you on your 11th birthday, Harry, as you were coming to Hogwarts. It might have been fun to turn your Uncle Vernon into a horned toad at that!”
Harry sputtered and choked on his toast as a sudden picture of his uncle as a toad filled his mind. Remus patted him on the back with a grin. Dumbledore went on to tell Harry that he would see him in the 3rd floor classroom after lunch for a lesson, before sweeping from the room.
The Entry Hall became their classroom that morning, as the room they had been using was not large enough for the additional people that Harry had begun to think of as their personal guard. Tonks, Bill, and Kingsley partnered up with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, while Remus and Harry practiced to the side. They were learning stronger spells and charms now, like Stunners and Blasting charms, while quickly learning that the shielding charms they had already learned were the only painless way to deflect these new spells.
At Remus’ direction, Harry began to try some of the shielding charms without his wand. Remembering Dumbledore’s insistence that he practice in secret, Harry looked at Remus questioningly, but his godfather waved him on. They worked hard all morning, learning quickly with so many new helpers, and the grown-ups were impressed with the progress they had made over the last few weeks.
“Blimey, Kingsley, let’s sign this lot up now for Auror training! They are almost as good as we are!” Tonks yelped as a stunner from Ginny managed to get through her shield.
Lunch was a lively affair, with everyone who joined the group in good spirits. It was almost like being back at Grimmauld Place, as other members of the Order where seen coming and going, some apparently just coming off duty and others going out to replace them. Alastor Moody seemed to be coordinating the shifts and came and went through the Great Hall a number of times.
After lunch, Harry went up to the 3rd floor classroom and practiced his Occlumency while waiting for the Headmaster. His happy, peaceful thoughts made him feeling good, and he worked at remembering the trill of Phoenix song that always seemed to ease the pain Voldemort cause in his head. He didn’t realize that the thought of Fawkes made him smile, until he heard Dumbledore’s voice.
“Very good, Harry!”
Harry opened his eyes, the smile still curving his lips, to find Fawkes perched on the bench next to him. His smiled widened. “Hello, Fawkes. Hello, Professor.”
“Did you mean to call Fawkes to you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, watching him intently, as Harry stroked the scarlet and gold bird’s head.
“No, I was just thinking of his singing, because it always seems to ease the pain in my head, when I can remember it.”
“Ahhhh.” Dumbledore nodded his head, watching as Fawkes laid his head on Harry’s wrist, covering the watch on his arm.
The watch grew warm on Harry’s arm and he looked up at Dumbledore questioningly.
Fawkes lifted his head, sang Harry a few notes of his song, before disappearing in a flash of flame, leaving Harry feeling warm inside and out.
“Amazing.” Dumbledore muttered. “Simply amazing.”
“What?” Harry asked, wondering what had just happened.
“Fawkes has taken a liking to you, Harry, as he doesn’t normally let anyone else pet him but me, and I’ve never seen him come when anyone else has called him. And if I am not mistaken, you now have only to press on your watch and you will hear the Phoenix song.” The Headmaster looked at him, a curious look on his face. “Can I ask you, Harry, what happens when you hear the Phoenix song?”
Harry smiled. “It started when Fawkes came into the Chamber of Secrets my second year, Professor, just hearing his song made me feel stronger and gave me the courage to fight the basilisk. In the graveyard, when the wands connected, it was the sound I heard that gave me the strength to hold on. When I came back afterwards, after Cedric died, Fawkes sat on my knee in your office, he sang to me, and his song made me feel like I could go on and I had the strength to tell you what had happened. Whenever Fawkes sings to me, he seems to give me strength that I would not otherwise have.” He glanced at Dumbledore, whose face was wreathed in a huge smile.
Nodding, Albus Dumbledore sat down beside Harry on the bench. From inside his robes, he pulled out a couple of Chocolate frogs and handed one to Harry. Opening his, Harry was delighted to see that he had gotten a Dumbledore card, which made his professor chuckle.
“How is your head feeling this afternoon, Harry?”
Harry paused for a second. “Alright, I guess, doesn’t hurt any more than is usual these days.” He looked sideways at Dumbledore. “Professor?”
“Yes, Harry?” Dumbledore was looking back at him.
“Tonks and Bill and everyone are staying with us until Sunday?”
“Yes, they will be staying inside with you and the others. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be here this afternoon as well as others, who will be helping patrol the perimeter of the school. Oh, and Harry, might Alastor Moody borrow that magnificent map of yours?”
“Of course, sir, it’s up in my trunk.” Harry stood to go get it, and Dumbledore waved him back.
“It will wait for us to be done here, Harry.” Dumbledore met Harry’s eyes over his half-moon glasses. “As you have already guessed, there are other members of the Order on guard duty outside Hogwarts, and they will be in and out of the castle from time to time. Those who are on inside duty have been chosen specifically, Harry, and you can trust them as you trust Remus or me. All right?”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, I wasn’t sure.” Harry grinned at him. “I got Remus this morning with a stunner without my wand! But it wasn’t very strong, I mean he’s okay and everything!”
Albus Dumbledore stood, chuckling, and waved Harry into position for their Occlumency lesson. Harry sealed the smooth walls in his mind and faced his teacher.
“Legilimens.”
Harry withstood the gentle brushing against the walls and as the brushing became more insistent, firmed up the barriers he had erected in his mind and filled his thoughts with happy images of his friends. He concentrated on them, as the brushing grew steadily stronger. Suddenly, Harry’s scar gave a searing throb.
“Ouch!” Said both Harry and Dumbledore in unison. Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise. “You could feel that?” Harry asked, rubbing at his forehead.
“Yes.” Dumbledore said, rubbing his own forehead. “Was it just the pain, Harry, or something more?”
“No, just the pain right now.” Harry said, as his scar throbbed again.
“Interesting, Harry, I didn’t know it felt like that.” Dumbledore continued to watch him intently.
“It does this a lot, Professor, just prickles like that.” Harry told him, rubbing his scar absently with the ball of his hand.
Dumbledore nodded his head. “You are doing very well, Harry, with your Occlumency so I think we will move on. Come stand over here.”
Harry moved to stand beside Dumbledore and listened as he explained what he wanted Harry to do. “Now, close your eyes, and envision a wall circling around you, Harry. A tall transparent wall that is protecting you. Concentrate, Harry.”
Harry closed his eyes, and visualized a clear wall surrounding them, protecting them. He opened his eyes to see Remus Lupin step into the room and look at the simmering wall that surrounded him and Dumbledore. All his concentration was on keeping the wall up.
“Reducto!” Remus had his wand out and waved it at Harry’s wall. The wall stayed firm, and as Harry and Dumbledore watched, Remus flicked his wrist and sent a Blasting Curse at the barrier. It rebounded on him, and Remus dived to the side to get out of the way.
“All right, Harry, very good indeed! Well done.” Dumbledore patted his shoulder, as the wall dissolved.
Remus brushed himself off as he smiled at Harry. “Alright, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “Had a twinge or two, but I’m fine.”
Remus took over and they spent the next hour working on Legilmency. By dinnertime, Harry’s head was throbbing and his scar prickling almost continuously. Harry ran up to Gryffindor Tower and retrieved the Marauder’s Map from his trunk. He took it down to the Great Hall where he silently passed it to Alastor Moody.
Harry had just taken his seat between Ron and Hermione, exchanging greeting with everyone already seated for dinner, when there was a commotion at the door. As everyone looked up, Arthur and Molly Weasley walked into the Hall. There was a squeal as Ginny caught sight of her parents and ran to the door. It was a full 10 minutes before everyone had been hugged and greeted, and everyone settled down for dinner.
Spirits were high and dinner ran long, like a gathering of old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long while. Laughter rang through the Great Hall, and people moved up and down the table chatting. The sunset through the enchanted ceiling colored the clouds and faded into darkness. Butterbeers appeared on the table along with many desserts, and Harry was content to listen to the conversation swirling around him. His scar had continued to prickle enough to make his eyes water, and his head continued to ache. He had started to have a feeling of foreboding, and had been disappointed when Dumbledore had not shown up for dinner. Snape was also absent.
“Harry?” Remus appeared at his elbow, and Harry laughed, no longer surprised by Remus’ perception. “Shall we go on upstairs?”
Harry stood and followed his godfather from the room. It was strange how right it felt to Harry, when he thought of both Sirius and Remus as his godfathers. It was almost as if they were two halves of one whole. A particularly nasty throb caused Harry to stumble on the marble staircase, and Remus grabbed his arm.
“Any idea why your scar is hurting?” Remus asked as they continued up, his hand steadying him.
“I dunno, but I’m getting that feeling again, like the other day.” Harry said. He was starting to feel shaky and feverish.
They made their way up to Gryffindor Tower and through the empty common room with its merrily blazing fire. Harry headed on up to the dormitory, knowing it was still early, but not feeling like company.
“I think maybe I should lie down for a while, Remus, and it might go away.” Harry said as he climbed up on to his four-poster.
Lupin gave him a look that told Harry he wasn’t being fooled and watched Harry take off his robes and shoes as he crawled under the covers. Remus grabbed his wand as it made to roll of the bedside table and took Harry’s glasses from him.
“Alright, Harry, but I think I’ll sit with you awhile.”
Harry heard him as if from a long distance, his eyes closed and he slipped into velvety darkness. He was sailing over the Quidditch field on his Firebolt, circling the field and weaving between the goal posts. The sun was warm and bright as he flew the wind whipping through his hair. He swooped out past the stands, soaring out over the grounds.
The Whomping Willow came into view and the dream began to change. The sky darkened, black clouds billowing in, as Harry flew through the branches of the tree. He saw a rat running underneath him, dodging limps pounding the ground around him. The rat became a man with a silver hand, pushing on the knot at the base of the willow, but the tree refused to let him in, and he changed back into a rat, running away as the tree whipped itself at him.
The sky was black as night with rolling clouds and red lightening flashed. Harry was standing over a cowering little man with a silver hand, in a dimly lit room, his red eyes flashing.
“Master, I tried! They have bewitched the tree, it would not let me in!”
The familiar high, cold voice that came out of Harry’s mouth shook with rage, triggering a searing pain in his head. “You have failed me yet again, Wormtail! You told me that this was a sure way into the castle, yet neither passage way is accessible! I have come all this way for nothing! Crucio!”
The screams rang through Harry’s head, made it hurt to the point of bursting. He lifted the Curse. “Well, Wormtail, how will you redeem yourself this time?”
“Master, we will lure him out, as you did before. We will take one of his friends and he will not be able to resist coming to rescue them!” Wormtail still lay in a heap at his master’s feet.
“Perhaps, Wormtail, perhaps. Crucio!”
Cold laughter swirled in Harry’s head as the small man with a rat like face twitched on the ground at his feet. The top of his head felt as if it were splitting.
“Harry!”
A voice called to him from far away, Harry tried to push it away, not wanting anyone else to get hurt. His scar throbbed horribly, and he felt icy cold. Strong arms surrounded him, held him tightly.
“Harry! Wake up, Harry!”
Harry struggled up through the waves of pain, his stomach churning, and his scar on fire. He felt a hand at his wrist, pressing, and then the beautiful sound of Phoenix song trilled in his head. The pain ebbed to a more tolerable level, and he opened his eyes slowly. Remus sat on the bed with him, resting Harry against his chest, supporting him as he threw up over the side. Pulling the bedcovers back up and over him, Remus continued to hold on to him as Harry shook in the aftermath of the dream.
Harry closed his eyes, and gripping his godfather’s arms, he willed the churning in his stomach to stop. Cool fingers rested against his burning scar, the calming effect of his Headmaster flooding through him. Harry didn’t know how long they sat there, Remus’ comforting in his closeness, and Dumbledore soothing with his touch.
Harry opened his eyes, and looked up. “Professor, where is Snape?”
Dumbledore handed Harry his glasses from the table. “Professor Snape is out, Harry. Why?”
Harry rested his head back against Remus for a moment as he looked at Dumbledore. “I think Voldemort is going to use him to lure me out, as a test of his loyalty.” He reached a hand out and grasped Dumbledore’s wrist. “Voldemort is here, close by somewhere.”
Dumbledore placed his hand over Harry’s for a moment, and sat beside them on the bed.
“Tell me about your dream, Harry, start at the beginning.”
Harry took a deep breath, and began to talk. He told them about flying and watching Wormtail at the Whomping Willow, how Voldemort had used the Cruciatus Curse on him. Voldemort knew about the passageways from the Shrieking Shack and Honeydukes, but Wormtail had not been able to get through them due to the extra protections in place. That Wormtail wanted to lure Harry out again like they had done in June.
“Wormtail reminded Voldemort how much I like to play the hero.” Harry spat out, the words filling him with disgust. “And that they have Snape who hates me and would leap at the chance to be the one to turn me over to the Dark Lord!”
Harry met Dumbledore’s eyes. “He is going to test Professor Snape’s loyalty, Professor, by telling him to lure me outside, and if he fails, Voldemort will kill him.”
Dumbledore stroked a hand down his beard and appeared to be deep in thought. Harry watched him, the white-hot pain in his scar having subsided to a more manageable level. He continued to lean against Remus, drawing strength from the contact. He could not remember anyone ever just holding him like this, amazed at how reassuring it was.
“Do you feel well enough to come up to my office, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry sat up straight with Remus’ help and nodded. In silence, Remus helped him dress, and they followed Dumbledore from the room. Everyone was still down in the Great Hall, as the common room remained empty and Harry knew he could not have slept for long. Remus stayed close to Harry, who was still feeling shaky from the dream, and stumbled climbing out of the portrait hole. His scar still twinged painfully as they headed down the dimly lit hallway, and Harry could not help but wonder whether this would truly be a test of Snape’s allegiance.
*
Dumbledore’s desk was awash in golden light from a large tall candle. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore lit other candles until the room glowed. Remus steered Harry into the tall chair behind the desk, and Dumbledore went directly to the black cabinet near Fawkes’ perch. The Phoenix watched the activity with interest, blinking serenely at them.
Harry watched as Dumbledore set the Pensieve down in front of him. He raised his wand to his temple, played back the dream he had just had in his mind, and drew it out as a slivery gossamer strand, which fell in to the swirling substance of the Pensieve. Harry sat back, stirring the liquid with the tip of his wand, as Dumbledore and Remus watched.
Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his scar with the knuckles of his left hand, trying to ease the prickling. If Voldemort were truly nearby, then Harry supposed he would just have to learn to live with the pain. Voldemort in Hogsmeade was a very scary prospect.
“Harry.” Dumbledore spoke softly.
Harry dropped his hand and opened his eyes, Dumbledore was standing beside the desk, still staring into the Pensieve. “Yes, Professor?”
“I am sure that you were seeing what happened this evening, and Lord Voldemort is indeed somewhere near Hogsmeade.” Dumbledore glanced at him over his half-moon glasses. “And your scar is going to continue to hurt, I’m afraid.”
Harry nodded ruefully. “And to think I complained last year that I felt like an aerial for Voldemort’s moods, that was nothing compared to this.” His scar was throbbing steadily. Looking across the desk, he watched as Remus folded himself into one of two high backed armchairs. Their eyes met, and Harry knew that Lupin was thinking the same thing he was.
“Professor?” His godfather started.
“What are we going to do with this information?” Dumbledore finished for him, an amused twinkle in his eye. “You are both wondering no doubt, as to how we should proceed. Harry, retrieve your memory, please.” Dumbledore steadied the Pensieve for Harry as he placed the gossamer strand back to his temple.
Watching the Headmaster put the stone basin back into the black cabinet, Harry glanced up to see that Fawkes was still watching him. Harry grinned at the Phoenix and thought the bird winked at him in return. As Dumbledore straightened from the cabinet, Harry got out of the chair and moved to sit in the armchair beside Lupin.
Albus Dumbledore sat down at his desk, folded his hands in front of him, and surveyed them both over the top of his glasses. “I have every confidence that Severus Snape will report to me the moment he returns.” He met Harry’s eyes, the clear blue boring in to the brilliant green. “As I have said before, I trust Professor Snape, Harry, and we will find a way to deal with the situation that protects his work for the Order, and your safety.”
Harry nodded. “I know, Professor, and will abide by your decision.” He hesitated, looking over at Remus who nodded in agreement. “I will do anything you need me to.” Harry looked back across the desk, to find Dumbledore smiling at him. His head exploded in pain, his scar searing white-hot.
Harry didn’t know whether he was sitting or falling. The pain was so severe it was as if his head had split open along his scar. He was angry, working up to a rage, and then happy, jubilant, he was going to get what he wanted. He was going to finally get what he wanted for so long.
The thrill of Phoenix song filled his mind, easing the blinding pain, until he realized he was lying on the floor, shaky and chilled. He felt a warm presence near his face, and forced his eyes open. Fawkes stood next to his chin, his plumage a blurred golden scarlet, and Harry realized that he had lost his glasses in the fall. Remus kneeled beside him, a hand under the side of his face that lay on the carpet. Fawkes spread his wings, the tips of his feathers brushing Harry’s face, and flew back up to his perch. Harry struggled to sit up with his godfather’s help, taking his glasses from Remus, some of the chill at least gone. Dumbledore had come around his desk, and moved to him.
“He was angry, really angry at Snape because Snape didn’t want to take a chance of luring me out under your nose, Professor. Voldemort threatened to have Death Eaters storm the castle and taunted Snape about whom he should be most afraid of, you or Voldemort. Snape told him that he would deliver me out of the castle Saturday morning at dawn.” Harry turned his pale face up to Dumbledore and grasped the hand he extended. “Snape said some really foul things about me to Voldemort.” Harry took a deep breath, attempting to stop the rage that threatened to burst through the barriers he had erected. “Told Voldemort that I was too arrogant to think that anyone could best me, and that I could not resist the temptation of going in to the Forbidden Forest, no matter what rules I broke, or who I might put in jeopardy.” Harry spat the words out.
Remus helped Harry back into the chair, and stood beside him, hand on Harry’s shoulder. Albus Dumbledore laid his long, cool fingers across Harry’s scar, calm instantly spreading from the point of contact.
“Harry.” Dumbledore said softly over his head, and Harry had the impression that his clear blue eyes were locked with the gray eyes of his godfather. Lupin’s hand tightened on his shoulder as if confirming it. “I know that your Occlumency classes with Professor Snape were brutal, and that he has been absolutely filthy to you since you arrived at Hogwarts, but Severus Snape would never do anything that would put you in harms way or put your life in danger.” Dumbledore’s voice trailed off. Harry could feel those blue eyes looking down on him, and felt his Headmaster move his hand from his forehead to rest it for a moment on the top of Harry’s head in an unexpected gesture of affection.
Harry opened his eyes when he felt Dumbledore move, and looked up at Remus, who smiled at him faintly, and whose expressive eyes held reassurance. Harry looked back at Dumbledore as he resettled himself behind his desk. It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore appeared tired tonight, the lines that framed his face deeper in the candlelight, his blue eyes shadowed.
“I know, Professor, that you would never allow that to happen, and you know that I trust you.” Harry assured him quietly, blinking against the persistent prickling of his scar. “I will do want ever you need me to do, even go into the Forbidden Forest at dawn on Saturday, with Professor Snape.”
“No!” Remus interjected, his hand tightening on Harry’s shoulder. “There has to be another way!”
“Remus, calm down.” Dumbledore said soothingly. “I assure you that we will not be rushing into any plan, and both of you will be a part of any decision that is made.”
“I will not allow Harry to be placed in that kind of danger. The Forbidden Forest is much too vulnerable a place.” Remus spoke in a mild voice, but Harry could hear the steel in it.
“Nor will I allow it, Remus, but it does sound like Harry will have to take some active roll in the process, as Lord Voldemort would readily be able to spot an imposter.” Dumbledore assured them, a hand stroking his silver beard.
“And Polyjuice potion takes a month to brew.” Harry interjected. Two pairs of eyes swung toward him and pin him to the seat. “What?” Harry looked between the Headmaster and his godfather, feeling puzzled.
“How do you know how long it takes to a Polyjuice Potion to brew, Harry?” Remus asked, with a questioning look.
Harry looked up, feeling his cheeks go pink, and met the twinkling blue eyes. “Um, we, uh, Hermione, Ron and I, brewed some in our second year, Remus. Um, Professor, what about using a shielding charm to protect me?” Harry said hurriedly, saying the first thing that came to his aching head.
“I look forward to hearing the Polyjuice story, Harry.” Remus muttered softly, his voice sounding almost proud.
Dumbledore’s eyes continued to hold Harry’s, mirth gleaming in their depths.
“I am not sure a shielding charm would afford much protection, Harry.”
There was a tap on the office door, and it swung open before Professor Dumbledore could speak. Severus Snape stepped quickly into the room in a swish of billowing black cloak, as if he feared someone was following him. Pushing the door closed swiftly, Snape spoke before he ever glanced around the room.
“Headmaster.”
Harry felt a swell of loathing and hate well up inside him at the sight of the Potions Master. His head swung toward Snape and their eyes clashed, gleaming dark to brilliant green. Harry made no effort to conceal the feelings that burned in him, and he could feel Remus tensing beside him.
“Severus, come in.” Dumbledore motioned towards Snape, who drug his dark eyes from Harry,
“Forgive me, Headmaster, I had thought you would be alone.” Snape said stiffly. “I will return at a more convenient time.”
“No, Severus, please come in.” Dumbledore gazed steadily at the Potions Master over the top of his half-moon spectacles. I have been waiting for you.”
Snape crossed the room towards the desk, his black cloak swirling around him, ignoring Harry and Lupin. He moved to the side of the desk, and bent towards Dumbledore. “It is urgent that I speak to you, Headmaster.” He hissed in a low voice.
Harry opened his mouth with an angry retort, and snapped it closed again as Dumbledore gave him a slight shake of his head. The lightening bolt scar on his forehead pulsed with a fresh wave of pain. He rubbed it absently with the tips of his fingers.
“Does this urgent matter have to do with Harry, Severus? Dumbledore returned his gaze to Snape.
Snape hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes boring into Dumbledore’s, who looked back at him serenely. “Yes, Headmaster.”
Albus Dumbledore maintained the eye contact, saying softly. “Then, please sit down and tell us, Severus, what urgent news you have.”
Snape continued to stand, still at the side of the desk, turned towards Dumbledore. In a low, sullen voice, Snape relayed the information of Wormtail’s attempt to gain entry to the Shrieking Shack passageway and the Whomping Willow. Not looking anywhere but at Dumbledore, he continued to tell the Headmaster about the scene Harry had witnessed in his dream.
Harry sat listening, irritated at being ignored by Snape, but more irritated at the fact that Snape had come directly to Dumbledore with the news of his meeting with Voldemort, just as predicted. He leaned closer, Remus’ hand on his shoulder more a restraint now. Harry wanted to hear, wanted to make sure that Snape repeated all the details that he had witnessed.
Remus leaned down. “Relax, Harry, let Dumbledore handle it, alright?” He murmured in Harry’s ear, his voice soft with warning. “Follow Dumbledore’s lead.”
Harry nodded his head once, his eyes intently on the sallow faced man whose face was half hidden behind a greasy curtain of black hair. His scar throbbed again with a fresh wave of pain. Concentrating on Snape’s hooked nose where it stuck out for the curtain of hair, Harry focused and strained to hear. Snape was relating the discussion with Voldemort on the best way to lure Harry from the castle, glossing over the dreadful things that he had said about Harry.
‘Liar’ Harry thought fiercely as his scar seared with white-hot pain. He clapped both hands to his forehead, but watched through the heels of his hands as Snape straightened suddenly and swung around to stare at him.
“What did you say, Potter?” Snape snarled at him.
Harry rubbed his forehead wearily, trying to ease the fresh wave of sharp pain. “What? I didn’t say anything!” He glanced up at Remus for reassurance. Remus shook his head slightly.
“You were saying, Severus?” Albus Dumbledore looked intently at Harry, watching.
“The Dark Lord will not rest until he has Potter, although he did not tell me why. He has threatened to send Death Eaters in to Hogwarts if I failed to produce him. I told him that is would not be easy to get Potter out of the castle while you are here, Headmaster, but that I would try.” Snape glanced at Harry, a touch of apprehension in his gaze. “I told the Dark Lord that I would persuade Potter to accompany me outside Saturday morning.”
‘Filthy liar!’ Anger surged through Harry as he thought the words, his scar searing again.
“What!” Snape advanced on Harry, rage adding color to his face.
Remus stepped in front of Harry protectively, his meaning clear. “Severus, Harry did not say anything.”
“He called me a filthy liar.” Snape snarled the end of his nose less than inch from Lupin’s.
“Severus! Sit down!” Albus Dumbledore’s voice held an unyielding tone, and when Harry looked around Snape, he saw that the blue eyes were flashing dangerously, as the Headmaster stood. Dumbledore conjured another cozy armchair to the side of his desk.
After shooting a look of pure loathing at Harry, Snape reluctantly sat down in the chair Dumbledore indicated. The Headmaster towered over him for a moment, and Harry thought he saw Snape flinch slightly, as Dumbledore swept around him.
Harry closed his eyes again, as white-hot pain shot through his scar like a jolt of electricity. Surprise flooded through him as did the soothing effect of the cool long fingers, when he felt them lay across his throbbing forehead.
“Harry.” Dumbledore’s soft voice held a hint of amusement.
“I thought it, Professor.” Harry muttered quietly. “I guess my thoughts aren’t even safe now.”
“I know, Harry, but I believe your thoughts are being amplified by the pain in your scar.” Dumbledore said it that soft voice.
Harry opened his eyes a slit, and saw Snape fuming in the chair beside the desk, his normally pallid face in high color.
“Uh oh.” Harry breathed. “Guess I’m in trouble then.” He heard Remus chuckle softly beside him. “I just wish Voldemort would go to bed or something, and stop making my scar hurt!”
Dumbledore walked back to his desk and sat down. He gazed at Snape over his steepled fingers. “Continue your report, Severus.”
“As I was saying, I am to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord at dawn on Saturday morning.” Snape shot Harry a malevolent look.
“The Forbidden Forest is not a choice I like for a delivery point, Severus.” Dumbledore watched Snape closely as he made the statement.
Harry felt a grim satisfaction as Snape’s jaw dropped and he stared at Dumbledore.
“How did you know?” Snape asked as if he could not help himself.
“Actually, Severus, Harry saw the whole discussion that you had with Lord Voldemort. Apparently, his close proximity to Hogwarts has made the connection between them very strong, much to Harry’s annoyance.” Dumbledore looked down his long crooked nose at Snape. “Harry was a bit taken back by your less that complimentary statements about me, and him.”
Snape sat very still, still in profile, depriving Harry of the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. Harry glared at the swaying curtain of greasy black hair, but Snape did not turn his head.
“Professor, what about Tonks? She would make a passable substitute for Harry, don’t you think?” Remus spoke up from beside him, stepping forward to take an active roll in the conversation.
Harry leaned his head back against the high back of the armchair and closed his eyes. The steady prickling in his scar felt as if it were continually burning and his head ached steadily. Harry cleared his mind, sweeping the remnants of his anger at Snape away, smoothing the walls. He heard the drone of conversation around him, but as if from a distance, as he slipped into velvety blackness.
Lucius Malfoy’s pale pointed face swam into focus, bowing in front of him. The pale eyes gleamed with evil glee. “I am not sure, My Lord, if Snape is still ours or whether he has gone to Dumbledore’s side. He seemed strangely reluctant to bring Potter to you, My Lord, and I fear he is merely a spy in our midst.”
“Yes, Lucius.” Harry answered in a high, cold voice. “I am aware of your suspicions, but it will not matter if he delivers Potter to me as he has promised. I assure you that we will take every precaution. If Snape is in league with that muggle-lover, we will find out Saturday at dawn, and his death will be an incredibly slow and painful one.” Harry laughed in delight at the thought of torturing Snape and the prospect of, finally, getting his hands on Potter.
Maniacal laughter rang loudly in his ears and for the third time that night Harry’s head felt as if it were sliced in half. His head felt as if it had separated from his shoulders, the pain so incredible, he could not even remember where he was or what was happening. A jubilant feeling not his own welled up inside him, churning his stomach.
“Harry! HARRY!”
Someone shouted at him from a great distance, and he was shaken violently, his head threatening to implode with the pain. Harry became aware that it was he who was laughing, and the realization made him vomit. Harry could feel the strong hands of his godfather supporting him, as he was leaned back in the chair. A warm weight settled on his knee and the Phoenix song filled his mind. Calm flooded through him as cool fingers lay across his scar.
Opening his eyes, Harry reached a shaky hand out, brushed around Fawkes, and gripped Dumbledore’s arm.
“S…snape.” Harry’s voice was hoarse and weak. “Warn Snape…” He lurched and would have fallen if not for Remus’ hold on him. “He knows who…he’s just waiting…” His scar pulsed white-hot again. “Oh please, make it stop!”
The long cool fingers on his forehead tightened, and Harry vaguely felt Dumbledore’s other hand on the back of his head, easing it back against the high back of the chair. Remus still gripped his shoulder, and Harry could feel the warmth of Fawkes on his knee, reaching out to lay a hand on the warm feathers, hearing the poignant warble of song. He took several deep breaths, cleared as much of the fear from his mind as he could, smoothing the walls and trying to ignore the pain. The pressure that Dumbledore was exerting on his head was actually helping.
Harry sat very still for several long minutes. “Please, tell Professor Snape that Lucius Malfoy believes him to be a spy for you and Voldemort is of the same mind.”
There was a sudden intake of breath that he believed was Snape, but Harry ignored him, still addressing his observations to Dumbledore. “Voldemort is using him to get me, and plans to torture and kill him if he does not hand me over.” A shudder ran through him. “He was really happy at the idea of getting me and getting to torture Snape, if Voldemort decides he is working for you.”
Harry opened his eyes, looking up to meet the piercing blue ones peering down at him. “I will use the Pensieve if you want me too.” The lightening bolt scar prickled painfully. “And I’d really like it, if this stupid scar would stop hurting!” The eyes looking down at him over the top of the half-moon glasses crinkled at the corners, as a smile tugged at Dumbledore’s mouth.
“And I wish I could do something to help, Harry, truly.” Dumbledore stepped back and let his hands fall to his sides. Turning, he glanced towards Severus Snape’s pale face, and then back down at Harry. “I do not believe that the Pensieve is necessary, Harry. Right now, I think you need to go to bed, and we will continue this discussion in the morning. I need a little time to reflect on the situation.”
Harry saw a look pass between his godfather and Dumbledore. He turned his head in time to see Remus nod in agreement. Harry stroked Fawkes’ head one last time, and the bird took off gracefully, landing smoothly on his perch. Standing up, Harry saw that Snape also stood and moved towards the door with them, sweeping past Harry without a word.
Moving ahead of Remus, Harry glanced back at Albus Dumbledore sitting behind the large polished desk, a solemn expression on his face, as his eyes followed their movements.
“Good night, Harry, I hope you sleep well.”
“Goodnight, sir.”