Choices and Consequences

Harry's nightmares only got worse over the next few weeks. Despite Dumbledore's insistence that he not dwell too much upon them, and to be reassured of the safety that Hogwarts provided, he found that he was dreading going to bed each night, and in fact spent hours laid awake, trying not to fall asleep.

He'd been to Madam Pomfrey and talked to her about it too, and she had provided him with a limited supply of Dreamless Sleep potion, but she dispensed it with a serious warning about the addictive nature of the potion: he was given strict instructions only to take it once a week, which made the other six nights something of a trial for him.

As well as dreams of Ginny being captured and tortured, or being horrifically injured in "freak accidents", he was starting to get ones of Sirius, of Cedric, and of others that had died at the hands of the Death Eaters. Although these weren't in the same vein as the ones about Ginny, they were still harrowing. Instead of hideous and gruesome tortures, these nightmares were much subtler, as those who'd died accused Harry of responsibility for their deaths.

"Why did you tell me to take the Tri-wizard Cup with you?" the image of Cedric asked him. "Why didn't you protect me? You're the Boy Who Lived!"

Harry had no response for him, and a silence and a sadness that he couldn't dispel.

"It's your fault I died," the late Hufflepuff told him. "It's all your fault."

Sirius's accusations hurt him badly, too.

"What do you think you were doing?" he snarled at Harry. "You were supposed to be safe at Hogwarts, not cavorting around the Ministry building. Don't you think we were watching over the prophecy for a reason?"

His once-friendly face glowered down at Harry, reminding him of the madness that had appeared at the fringes of his demeanour after escaping from Azkaban.

"I suppose you thought you could defend yourselves? That you and your little band of merry men would be the heroes, the saviours?" His godfather looked down at him with distaste written across his features. "When will you learn to leave things to the adults? You got me killed - how many more have to die before you get your act together?"

Even in his dream, Harry could feel the emptiness that Sirius's words made him feel, the loneliness that losing his godfather had created welling up again and making him cringe at the responsibility he had been allotted.

Numerous other people piled their woes on top of these, faces that he'd never seen before, but one common thread was that they blamed Harry for not doing something.

"You're the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord," they told him. "Why have you done nothing to stop him? When are you going to get your act together and stop all the suffering?"

Along wit the images of Ginny's tortures, it was the faces of these innocents that affected Harry the most, accusing him of sacrificing them to be able to live his own comfortable life.

They had died protecting their families, some of them unaware why they were being attacked. In Harry's mind, he was responsible for their deaths because he could have stopped them.

He could have let Sirius kill Wormtail in the shrieking shack, his guilt-ridden subconscious told him; he should have known not to trust the fake-Moody; he ought to have done something permanent to defeat Voldemort, even in the Department of Mysteries those few months ago.

The nightmares were bad enough, but with the efforts that Harry was putting into sleeping for the minimum amount of time possible, so he could avoid them, he wore down very rapidly.

Classes passed in a blur, mealtimes in a haze of eating and chatter, evenings in the common room with Ginny so quietly that, despite the comfort he drew from her presence, they spoke so rarely that he could feel her drawing away from him, and he could see the hurt in her eyes when he denied anything was wrong.

"Come on, Harry, you look awful," she told him. "Something must be wrong."

"I'm fine," he replied to sceptical looks.

"Don't you trust me?" she asked. "I want to help you!"

He sighed.

"There's nothing you can do. Really, I'm okay."

She turned and pulled away from his outstretched arms and stalked up the stairway to the girls' dormitories, annoyed that he wouldn't let her help him.

Ron and Hermione's attempts to liven him up and get him into a good spirit only served to annoy him, and after a while he got angry at them as well, pushing them away and forcing smiles he could see they knew weren't real.

"I'm fine" became his catchphrase any time asked about his wellbeing, but he could tell that they knew he wasn't.

Even the classes with John, Moody and Professor Gaarder started to become something of a chore, and Harry was funding it more and more difficult to concentrate properly, both on these essential lessons and his regular NEWT classes.

Professor Snape's attitude to him had worsened again, in line with the marks that he was getting, and his sneering presence was once more enough to make Harry dread his Monday mornings.

On top of that, apparently one of the first years had taken Harry's advice to heart and had stuck up for her friends in a potions class, much to Snape's disgust, and he now held Harry responsible for his loss of authority, however marginal it might be.

"I suppose you're amused by having first years undermining my authority?" Snape had asked with a scowl as their paths crossed one afternoon between classes.

Harry had tried to argue that it wasn't the point, but had only been rewarded with a detention and the loss of ten points from Gryffindor's tally.

Neville had overheard the conversation and asked Harry about it.

"I'm sorry, Neville," he sighed after explaining what he had told the first years. "I should have done the same for you years ago."

"You did, Harry, just not with Snape," he'd replied.

At Harry's questioning look, he explained further.

"When you helped us all last year with our Defence, mate."

"I didn't do that for the same reason though."

"It doesn't matter. Nobody gave you much support when you stood up to Umbridge - not after that first class, anyway - but you stood up for all of us by agreeing to teach us Defence instead."

Ron and Hermione had overheard this conversation as well, and though they also apologised to Neville for not sticking up for him, they were more glad to see Harry actual engaged in a discussion where he wasn't shouting down his friends.

But it was one of these Monday mornings in Potions, late in October, when it all came to a head. Having completed two or three weeks of classes talking about and brewing blood poisons, Snape had moved on to a new but related subject. On this particular morning, he was giving a lecture on the usefulness of blood-purging potions. Given the topics of recent weeks, Harry had a vague idea how useful such purging potions could be. The class had been given strict warnings about the effects of the blood poisons, and to have something that would at least provide a remedy, no matter how painful, could only be of benefit.

Unfortunately, it had been six full days since he had last taken the Dreamless Sleep potion, and Harry's energy was at it's lowest ebb - the constant nightmares and lack of sleep was clearly having a cumulative effect, and at some point during the class Harry fell asleep.

He woke to find his head being lifted from the desk by his ear, painful enough in itself, but made doubly so by the sudden appearance of Snape's face approximately two inches from his own.

"You wish to sleep in my class, Potter?" the Potions master spat. "You deign to appear for NEWT level instruction, then decide to waste my valuable teaching time snoozing at your desk?"

Seeing that Harry was now awake and aware of his surroundings, Snape let go of his ear, and Harry was powerless to stop his head dropping down the foot or so it had been lifted, and hitting the wooden desk with an audible thud, which provoked a few sniggers at Harry's discomfort.

A dull ache throbbed through Harry's skull as he lifted his head back up to look his teacher in the face, only to find Snape glaring round the room, silencing the noise.

Suddenly, the atmosphere was icy. Despite the number of Slytherins in the class, nobody was smirking at Harry's predicament any more. Cowed by the Potion Master's stare they were all waiting with bated breath to find out what the repercussions of falling asleep in Potions would be.

Some, like Hermione, had horrified expressions on their faces. Others were slightly shocked, but also slightly intrigued. All were nervous.

"I suppose you've been out carousing the corridors after curfew with your girlfriend, have you, Potter?" he snarled. "Looking for somewhere to enjoy an illicit tryst?"

"No, Professor," Harry croaked, wiping his hand across his face. "Just not sleeping well."

Snape gave him a disbelieving stare.

"Then I recommend you seek help from Madam Pomfrey, rather than disrupting my lessons. If you intend to take a NEWT in Potions, you need to be paying attention," he said with a sneer, "not sleeping. That will be thirty points from Gryffindor, and a week of detentions. Perhaps you can catch up with your work then instead?"

Harry nodded, and slumped back down in his seat. It was difficult to understand Snape sometimes. He could have been much harsher on him for falling asleep in class, but his words were as much of a punishment as Harry would get.

"Now, get out of here, and get to the Hospital Wing!"

Temporarily rejuvenated, Harry grabbed his books and stuffed them hurriedly into his bag, then headed up to the third floor. Madam Pomfrey seemed unsurprised to see him, and directed him immediately to a bed, dosing him up with a potion that put him to sleep straightaway.

It didn't stop the nightmares, but whatever the potion was she had dosed him with did help his body recover from the lack of sleep. The nightmares were as bad as ever, but this time he did not wake up.

Eventually they gradually dissipated, replaced by a more calm, natural sleep, and his dreams were filled with more reassuring images of his friends, defending him and his actions, of Ginny safely ensconced in his embrace and of Sirius acknowledging that he needed to do something about his guilty feelings; that he wasn't at fault for all the deaths and disasters he imagined himself to be.

When he woke, he felt refreshed for the first time in weeks, and Madam Pomfrey discharged him from the Hospital Wing almost immediately with a strange expression on her face, leaving Harry to head back to the Gryffindor common room on his own.

His legs felt a little wobbly as he got up, and his body a little weak all over. He was hungry too, but he put it all down to the after effects of Pomfrey's potions.

Pushing open the portrait hole, he was immediately accosted by Ginny, who flung herself at him as he entered the room.

"Harry! Are you all right?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled from where her face was buried into Harry's chest.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. What's the matter?"

Ginny looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us into the Hospital Wing to see you! Hermione said you fell asleep and Snape sent you up there, but we couldn't get in to check on you!"

Harry was a bit confused. Ginny's plaintive voice and her obvious relief at seeing him were a little odd. He'd only been in the Hospital Wing overnight, hadn't he?

He pulled back a little from her smothering grasp and looked into her eyes.

"What's wrong Ginny? I'm always ending up in the Hospital Wing - why were you so worried?"

"What's wrong? It's been a week, Harry! I've been so scared!"

"A week!"

""Well, nearly. It's Sunday evening. You've been asleep since Monday morning!"

Harry stood there dumbfounded. How had he slept for six full days?

Whatever was in the potion that Pomfrey had given him had knocked him out really well. It was no wonder he felt refreshed and awake after so long - even the last three or so weeks worth of sleeping badly and not at all must have been slept off.

While he was hungry and thirsty he didn't feel like he was starving. Pomfrey must have kept him dosed with nutritional potions as well.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't realise!"

Ginny pounded, fairly gently, on his chest. "Don't ever do that again!" she said, punctuating each word with a thump.

"Ow! Ow! Okay! Okay!" Harry said, fending her off. "Honestly, if I'd known, I would have warned you!" He wrapped his arms around her into a hug.

Seeing that Ginny had finally finished berating Harry, Ron approached him too.

"Glad to see you back, mate. You really had us worried!" He reached around his sister and clamped Harry on the shoulder. "Does that mean we can all go down for dinner now?"

Hermione made an unladylike snorting sound at Ron's persistent need for food, but a loud gurgling from Harry's stomach, which made everyone laugh, mostly drowned it out.

"Well I don't know about anyone else," Ron announced, "but at least Harry agrees with me!" He smiled and turned towards the door, holding it open for his friends to follow behind him, looking a little surprise to see that the whole of Gryffindor seemed to have taken that as a sign to follow.

As they walked down to the Great Hall, any number of people asked him how he was feeling and although he was genuinely feeling better, he was keeping one ear out for his friends' questions.

With one arm around Ginny's waist to reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere in the immediate future without her, he listened to Hermione's speculation about what he might have been dosed up with and Ron's relieved chatter about Quidditch practice, and how he was glad that Harry had recovered in plenty of time for the first match of the season, against Slytherin, just a week or so away.

Harry listened to Ron's Quidditch gripes with good humour, and he was still curious who the Slytherins might have picked to replace Malfoy as Seeker for the team.

He was vaguely amused that Ron and Hermione seemed to get along fine when they were concerned about his well being, no doubt too concerned about him to be bickering with each other. Ginny confirmed his feelings on it when she muttered about how quiet they had been without him around, but he really hoped that they could set aside the tension between them and stay friends. It would be a rough year if he had to keep siding with one or the other of them to keep them apart.

He tried to enjoy his dinner, but found it difficult to eat very much. His stomach kept cramping up, and he had to force himself to eat slowly. Hermione kept up a non-stop dialogue about what he had missed in class over the past few days which wearied him a little as he thought about all the work he would have to catch up on. Ginny squeezed his hand in sympathy under the table, but it was Ron's face that made Harry laugh.

He looked totally overwhelmed by Hermione's verbosity, his eyes sticking out like a bug's as she reeled off the charms they had covered in Professor Flitwick's classes and the potions they had brewed under Professor Snape.

Harry covered his mouth to prevent Hermione seeing his grin, and Ginny nudging his knee under the table wasn't all that helpful as he tried to keep a straight face.

It was when Hermione mentioned that a special feast was being held for Hallowe'en, that he really started to take notice.

"Not another ball?" he groaned.

"Whyever not?" Ginny said from beside him. "You don't have to search for a date," she reminded, with a slight smile.

"The last one was a complete nightmare! I don't know what's got into Dumbledore. Doesn't he realise that most people hate these things?"

He was getting some curious looks from Ginny and Hermione that he wasn't sure he liked.

"At least this time you won't have to open the dancing in front of the whole school," Ron pointed out in an attempt to be helpful, but it didn't provide Harry with much succour, and he got an angry glance from his sister for the trouble.

Harry muttered to himself under his breath and stabbed violently with his fork at the piece of steak on his plate that he'd been playing with for the last few minutes.

"Hmph!" Ginny crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "Don't you want to dance with me, Harry?" she asked, before getting up and striding out of the Hall.

"Ginny!" he pleaded, but she didn't even look back, and he started to rise from his seat to follow her.

Professor McGonagall blocked his way though.

"Ah! Mister Potter. Harry. Just who I was looking for." Harry twisted his neck to try and peer over her shoulder to see if he could tell where Ginny had gone, but she had already left the Hall, and he was left with McGonagall to talk to.

"I've managed to get details from your teachers of the work you missed this past week. If you come up to my office after dinner, you'll be able to make a start on it," she said briskly, expecting his immediate compliance.

"But... Ginny... um..."

"Come, come, Harry. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to spend with Miss Weasley once you've caught up with your studies," she insisted. "You've a lot of work to do if you intend to catch up with what you've missed. I understand Mister Christopher and Professor Gaarder also wish to see you about catching up on their classes."

Harry sighed in defeat. He wanted to go after Ginny and try to explain that he'd love to dance with her, but that he wasn't very good at dancing. As it was she was obviously upset at what he'd said, and now he wasn't even going to get a chance to talk to her about it.

"Yes, Professor," he acquiesced meekly, and sat down sharply again at the table, frustrated at the situation.

Hermione started once again to talk about how important it was to get caught up on his work, but Harry interrupted her.

"Hermione. Will you tell Ginny I'll try and speak to her tomorrow? Please?"

Hermione gave him a grimace. "I'll try. You stuck your foot in it there though."

"I'm sure he realises that-" Ron butted in from the other side of the table, but was cut off by Harry kicking him under the table, which made him pause to rub his leg.

"I only wanted to say that I'm not very good at dances," Harry explained.

"Dances?" Hermione asked. "Who mentioned dances?"

"Well you said we were having a special ... Oh."

"I don't think that's the problem, Harry," she tried to explain. "Just talk to her about it?"

Harry nodded solemnly, and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh Hell! I'm back five minutes and I screw things up."

Ron looked at him sympathetically, but Hermione seemed to have decided to ignore him for some reason, as they finished their meal.

"Oh well," Harry said, and he crossed his knife and fork on his plate and pushed it away from him. "I guess I'd better get up to McGonagall's office."

Harry's evening didn't go well at all. He found it difficult to concentrate on his work while he worried about Ginny, and what he'd done to upset her. By the time that McGonagall decided he could go to meet with John and Gaarder, it was long into the evening, and Harry had a horrible suspicion that everyone would be in bed by the time he got back to the common room.

After enduring an lecture from his tutors about the need to concentrate on his spellwork, he was in no mood to talk to Ginny, and his mood only worsened when he bumped into Professor Snape on the way back to Gryffindor Tower, who reminded him that he still had a week's worth of detentions to serve for falling asleep in class.

"At least this way we can be sure that you'll catch up on what you missed the past few days, Potter," he sneered as he dismissed him with a reminder that he really shouldn't be walking the corridors so late at night.

It annoyed him that even though he'd chosen to take on all these extra things to try and give himself the best chance of defeating Voldemort, everyone seemed to be getting at him, as though he was deliberately not putting in the required effort.

Over the next couple of days, he came to the conclusion that Ginny was avoiding him. Not only could he not corner her in the evenings because of his detentions with Snape, he found that she rarely seemed to be at meals at the same time, or that when they did happen to coincide she was already surrounded by others and would wave for him to sit with Ron or Hermione.

He was starting to get both annoyed and worried about it. Annoyed because it seemed as though there was a conspiracy among the fifth year girls to keep the two of them apart and worried because he didn't really understand why she had stormed off. He had become very fond of spending time with her, whether simply lazing in each others arms or doing their homework together in a quiet corner of the common room, or having breakfast or dinner together where they could share amused glances at the way Ron, Hermione or others were behaving.

He missed her. He hadn't realised how well she had wormed her way into his subconscious, but she had, and now he felt a little empty as though he'd lost something he couldn't describe. The feeling was almost like the nightmares he'd been having of Ginny being tortured and killed, though not on the same terrifying scale. It was more like a dull ache that, even after only a couple of days made him feel less than he had been.

He'd tried to talk to Hermione about it, to find out what he done wrong, but her only response was that he would have to find out for himself; that it was something that the two of them would have to work out between them. It made Harry a bit angry with Hermione for spouting such useless nonsense. How was he supposed to work it out with Ginny if he never got to talk to her?

Ron was hardly any more help. He hadn't even noticed that there was a problem, and when Harry tried to explain he simply shrugged and said "girls" in that exasperated tone of voice that suggested that it was a complete mystery to him, though in all fairness, it probably was.

Thursday night rolled around, and the 'special feast' that Dumbledore had announced was accompanied by lots of whooping and hollering as most of the younger years got into the spirit of Hallowe'en. It helped that the first to fourth years had been given the afternoon off, and had been involved in a number of traditional seasonal activities.

When Harry briefly stepped into the Great Hall between classes that afternoon, he noted that many of the Muggle Hallowe'en traditions seemed to have been adopted, at least for this one night, and Dumbledore had apparently insisted on all sorts of entertainment.

The first years were involved in a competition to see who could create the best Hallowe'en lantern out of a pumpkin, though they were limited to using magical means to do so, and Professor Flitwick was overseeing their efforts with great enthusiasm, getting covered in pumpkin pieces as he did, while the second years had been roped into an apple-bobbing competition by Professor Sprout, who looked amused at the efforts they were making.

The third years had made all sorts of gruesome masks that were supposed to represent horrific creatures that celebrated the date as one of evil spirits, and were being judged on the most realistic ones by a noticeably impatient Professor Silverwood, who seemed to spend a lot of the time pointing out flaws in their designs, but also lecturing them at length about the history behind the creatures they had chosen to imitate.

In another corner of the Hall, the fourth years were enjoying a fancy dress competition, though most of the attention was focused on one girl, Harry thought she was a Slytherin, whose 'wood nymph' costume didn't conceal very much, particularly given the ample size of some of her assets. Professor McGonagall was doing her best to encourage the girl into a more 'appropriate' state of dress, but with little success.

Seeing all these people enjoying themselves lightened Harry's mood a little, but he was still frustrated that he'd been unable to talk to Ginny at all. It reminded him that it was this that she had been so upset about, after all.

Harry wasn't the only one out of sorts though. Snape had swept into the room, taken one look at the activities going one, and stopped, stock-still. His entrance caused everyone to look around at him to try and determine the problem.

"What, may I ask, is all this foolishness?" he growled into the silence that echoed his words back to him.

"Ah, Professor Snape, so good of you to join us," Dumbledore said jovially as he stepped through a side door to join the party. "Won't you help Professor McGonagall judge the fancy dress?"

The thought of being involved in such an activity must have caused Snape great pain. His face alternated between thunderous anger at being invited to participate in such frivolity, and his eyes bugging wide open at the sight of his Slytherin fourth year in such a state of undress in the Great Hall.

He marched across the room and grabbed hold of the poor girl by the arm.

"This is not an acceptable form of attire, Miss Ayscough," he growled with an outraged expression on his face. "Totally unbecoming of a member of my House."

He turned and strode out through the door, almost dragging her the whole way, and berating her about setting a bad example in scathing undertones that looked as though they were frightening the poor child to insensibility.

The silence was broken almost immediately the door to the Hall clanged shut behind the Slytherin girl and her Head of House as everybody winced at the thought of the punishment that she would receive from her Head of House for such outrageous behaviour, and the chatter about it returned the volume of the Hall to its normal cacophonous level.

Harry shook his head and looked around the room more carefully to try and catch sight of any of his friends. Dean and Seamus had been standing with the fourth years ogling some of the costumes, but their interest had apparently waned now that the most overt attraction had been removed, and they greeted Harry as they passed him on their way out. He could see Hermione thoroughly enjoying herself as she helped a group of first years with their pumpkin, and he waved across at her, getting about two dozen waves back from the group.

Apparently all the activities were coming to an end though, and as each space started to clear, Dumbledore waved his hand and the House tables started to reassemble themselves into a more familiar pattern.

"The Hallowe'en feast will be served in an hour's time," he announced. "Please let all members of your Houses know, and be sure to be back here before we start to eat."

Students started trooping out of the Hall past Harry, and he turned to follow them out.

He followed his fellow Gryffindors back towards their tower, but was pulled up short when he heard a strange sound. He backtracked a couple of yards and heard it again: a sort of sniffling noise. It was coming from one of the less frequently utilised classrooms, normally furnished with only the bare minimum requirements for teaching.

He paused for a moment to listen. Was somebody crying? He half-wondered if he should go back to the Great Hall and bring a teacher, or at least someone who knew what to do with a sobbing student. His own efforts at comforting Cho had been rather unsuccessful.

His next thought was that it might well be the Slytherin girl that Snape had just hauled out of the Hall. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable getting close to a girl with so little clothing on, though he was curious what Snape might have said. Someone might get the wrong impression if they walked in on them though.

He decided to bite the bullet, and pushed open the door to see who was there. On first glance it appeared the room was empty, but them looking more closely in the corner behind the door, Harry saw who it was.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed, rushing over to her and wrapping his arms around her. "What on earth's the matter?"

Ginny gave a small shriek and tried to back away from him. "Leave me alone!"

"Ginny, whatever I've done, I'm so sorry. Please ... talk to me?"

She lifted her head and threw her own arms around him, burrowing her face into the robes gathered at his chest.

"Oh Harry! I'm such an idiot!"

Harry was stunned. "You are?" he said, before realising that probably wasn't the most sensitive response. "No you aren't!"

She gurgled slightly, and he took that as a sign of amusement.

"I thought ... I thought you didn't care about me, Harry."

Stunned turned to mystified. "What? Where did you get that idea?" he asked incredulously. "Of course I care about you!"

"But you were in the Hospital Wing for a week and then one of the first things you said was that you didn't want to go to the Hallowe'en feast with me, that you hoped that there wasn't going to be another Ball," she pointed out. "I thought that meant you didn't want to be with me.

"It's the first chance we would have had to do something, you know, together, as a couple, and I thought you were telling me you weren't interested!"

"Oh Ginny!" Harry sighed, and took half a step back to look at her. "I didn't mean that I don't want to be with you. I was just thinking about how disastrous the Yule Ball was in my fourth year, when I had to lead the dancing. I was terrified! I'd never even danced before, let alone in front of the whole school.

"And then I spent the rest of the evening worrying about Hermione, and feeling sorry for myself because Cho had already chosen to go with Cedric. I was a complete prat! I wouldn't want to inflict that on you!"

Ginny giggled softly at Harry's words. "I was miserable too, you know, until I left Neville and found Michael wandering around. I wanted to go with you, but you never asked me."

Harry coloured up at the reminder. "I'm sorry Ginny. I wasn't even thinking straight then! I wish I had asked you." He pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sure it would be more fun if you were with the right person," she said into his chest.

"Probably," he conceded, though privately he was still worrying about whether he would end up tripping over his own feet and dragging her down with him. "Maybe I can get some lessons before then though."

Ginny tilted her head back and stared up at him. "Are you serious?" she asked.

"Well, yes. If you want to dance, I ought to learn how first. Then we can do it properly."

Ginny paused a moment, weighting something up in her mind, then looked into his eyes and saw he was being sincere.

"Take my hands, Harry." She took half a step back. "Let me show you."

An hour later, Harry had tripped over about a dozen times, though he hadn't dragged Ginny with him, she had gracefully stepped out of the way each time and let him fall, then laughed at his misfortune. He was getting used to it though, and felt a little more comfortable with the steps she had shown him.

He also found it hard to believe how much he'd enjoyed himself, though as Ginny had said, having the right partner seemed to make all the difference.

"Let's take a break for a moment," Ginny suggested as she helped him up from another tumble.

Harry sighed.

"I'm really sorry for being such an idiot," he apologised.

"Hey, it's okay," she replied. "If I'd stayed and let you explain instead of running away and avoiding you it might have made things a lot easier.

"What time is it?"

"No idea." Harry leaped to his feet suddenly. "Damnit! Dumbledore wanted us all at the feast promptly," he exclaimed, " and we've been here ages!"

They ran, hand-in-hand down the corridor, and with no effort to be discreet or quiet, burst into the hall at full tilt, right in the middle of a speech that Professor Dumbledore was giving.

The room went silent. It had obviously been very quiet already, given the low volume at which Dumbledore was talking, but now the only sounds Harry could hear were his and Ginny's ragged breaths and the beating of his heart.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Weasley. I thought we were missing a couple of people," Dumbledore broke the silence conversationally. "Please take a seat."

They shuffled along the outside of the Gryffindor table, ignoring the venom-filled looks they were getting, particularly from some of the Slytherins, who clearly felt that they would have been severely punished for interrupting the Headmaster, especially after he had requested that everyone be at the meal on time.

"As I was saying before the hasty arrivals, I do hope that everyone has had an enjoyable day. The activities that the first to fourth years put on this afternoon were most delightful, and such a pleasant distraction from our normal routine."

This provoked a mixed reaction from the staff. Some, like Flitwick and Sprout, had clearly enjoyed their afternoons, while it was clear that Silverwood felt it had been a complete waste of time but he had endeavoured to make something of it. McGonagall looked a little harried, and the remainder of the staff, who had apparently filled in as supervisors earlier in the day looked fairly content. The only real exception was Professor Snape, whose thunderous mood had apparently not dissipated in the hour since he had last been seen, and Harry could see no sign of the offending Slytherin fourth year who had tempted his wrath.

"A brief history lesson if I may," Dumbledore continued, and gave a condensed account of how Hallowe'en came to be celebrated in its modern day form, and how the myths of witches and wizards had been perpetuated over so many centuries by the magical community, particularly on this one night of the years when they considered that the whole world was fair game for their mischief.

Harry was a little disturbed that, even in modern times, such attitudes prevailed, and that the Ministry turned a blind eye to even the worst violence on such a night, claiming that to police everything would be impossible.

Most of all though, as Dumbledore wound down his little narrative, he remembered that it was on this night some fifteen years ago that his own home had been attacked and his parents murdered.

It was a moment or two before he realised that Dumbledore had finished talking and that everyone had started to pile their plates with dinner. Ginny nudged him gently.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied slowly. "Just remembering ... things."

"Want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head. "Not particularly," he said, and put the memories to the back of his mind, attempting to enjoy the evening as best possible.

In the end he had quite a good evening. Making up with Ginny had filled the empty feeling he'd had over the past few days, and he was much more able to cope with his friends' banter, despite the nightmares that still plagued his sleep.

When he went to bed after kissing Ginny goodnight, he actually felt as though he might get a decent night's sleep, but unfortunately it wasn't to be.

His dreams, for once, were pleasant enough, as he relived the dancing lesson with Ginny, and the memory of her scent as he bid her goodbye lingered, but tonight was one of those night where he was the recipient of one of Voldemort's visions.

He wondered if this was a deliberate attempt to destabilise him. Whether it was because he had lapsed in his Occlumency practice after being in the Hospital Wing for a week, or if the Dark Lord had simply decided that tonight was the night that he would put all his efforts into making Harry's night unforgettable for all the wrong reasons, Harry wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter.

Even though it was only eleven o'clock by the time his head hit the pillow, his happy dreams of his evening with Ginny were swept away.

The viewpoint was the same as before: he was seeing things through Voldemort's own eyes.

In this case, he stood at the door of an expensive looking house, and he had five robed and masked Death Eaters with him. Harry didn't recognise the house, but it was clear that it belonged to a witch or wizard - there were all sorts of unlikely looking plants in the front garden that Harry thought would normally grow in tropical regions, and the Hallowe'en lanterns that decorated the windows actually moved and made funny faces at the visitors as he watched.

The homeowner came to the door and looked cautiously around it as it opened. Seeing the Death Eaters before him, he desperately tried to slam the door on them, but he was far too slow. One of the hooded men stuck a foot in the gap and screamed out a stunning curse that hit the man in the side, sending him crashing to the floor.

"Robert?" a female voice came from somewhere on one of the upper floors. "What's going on?"

He pushed his way through the door and up the stairs and the five men followed him in, two of them lifting the downed man by his elbows and dragging him up the stairs behind their comrades.

As he reached the top of the stairs a middle-aged witch with sandy coloured hair that fell down on to her shoulders confronted him. On another day, in another situation, Harry would have considered her good looking, even if she was nearly thirty years his senior, but now wasn't the time to be worrying about that.

Seeing Voldemort before her, the woman screamed. The hand she held her wand in dropped to her side and she turned to bolt up the next flight of stairs. Harry wondered why she didn't just Apparate out, but then perhaps she didn't want to leave her husband to the mercies of the Death Eaters - they didn't have any, after all.

She didn't get very far. One of the Death Eaters shouted out a petrifying spell, and she froze.

He knew that she could still hear him though, and spoke for the first time since entering the house.

"I see you recognise me," he murmured. "Well now it's time that you learned something as well, and perhaps the rest of the wizarding world will learn too."

He stepped up behind the woman and turned her around to face him, gently caressing her face.

"Oh yes, I remember you, Aileen. Aileen deMontfort you were once upon a time."

The fear flickered in her eyes at his recognition of her and her maiden name. He could almost hear her thinking: 'what does he want from me?', but he'd tell her in his own good time.

"A fine, pureblood family, the deMontforts have been through the centuries," he hissed, " and here you stand, the very last of that name. Your daughter, she carries your blood, doesn't she? But it's tainted blood, even if she was Sorted into Slytherin. Tainted by that ... Muggle ... you've married."

At a signal from their master, two of the Death Eaters dragged the Muggle husband up in front of her.

"Enervate!" he spat, waking the man from his stupor, at which he immediately began to struggle.

"You've made a big mistake, Aileen deMontfort. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He reached out and removed the wand from her grasp, then cancelled the petrifying spell. The look of defiance in her eyes was mixed with fear for her life and for her husband's too.

"It's Aileen Davis," she spat out, reaching forward, grasping for her wand, only to find it pointed straight back at her.

"Fine," he hissed. "If that's how you want to play it. Hold her!"

Two of the Death Eaters strode forward and grabbed her arms, restraining her despite her efforts to kick out at them.

"Now you will see what your actions have wrought." He turned back to her husband, still struggling between two robed and masked figures. "Crucio!"

The man screamed and thrashed his arms as if trying to get out of the way of the pain curse that he was being subjected to. His captors held him tightly though, not even giving him a moment's hope of escaping.

Aileen Davis was sobbing at the treatment, begging for Voldemort to spare her husband. He looked at her in surprise as though to suggest she was to blame for his actions, but then turned back to the Muggle.

"Diffindo!" he growled, deliberately aiming the cutting curse at the man's legs. Blood spurted across the room as the curse hit, sending the man to his knees, despite the two Death Eaters supporting him.

Aileen shrieked in concert with her husband. The man was gibbering, repeatedly asking why he was being attacked.

"So tell him, Aileen. Tell him why we're here."

She screeched at Harry, then turned to her husband, looking helplessly up at her, gritting his teeth through the pain that he had just suffered to hear what she had to say.

"Robert! Oh my God, Robert," she sobbed.

"Go on. Tell him," Harry taunted her, and got a face full of phlegm for his efforts as she spat directly at him.

"You will pay for that later. Now tell him why we're here."

Aileen took a deep breath. "They're here because I'm a witch, a pureblood witch, who dared to marry you, a Muggle, when I fell in love with you," she told him, her chest heaving in an attempt to control her fear. "They've got this stupid, racist notion-"

"That will do," Harry cut her off, slapping her hard across the face for her insolence, then laughing as she gasped. "You understand?" he asked Robert Davis.

Robert squeezed his eyes closed tightly then opened them to stare straight into the eyes of his executioner. "Oh, I understand," he growled. "You damn pureblood supremacists are what nearly killed wizards off hundreds of years ago-"

"Kill him," Harry said offhand to the sole Death Eater with his hands free.

"NO!" Aileen screamed, but there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him, no matter how much she struggled against the two restraining her.

"I told you that you would pay," Harry said indifferently, as the Death Eater raised his wand.

"Avada Kadavra!" he intoned, and a flash of green light flared across the short distance between the two of them, hitting Robert Davis in the head.

He slumped to the floor, and the two men that had been holding him let him fall.

Aileen wept.

"Oh the night's young yet," Harry said to the crying woman. "These two have got plenty of time to have some fun with you before they go to their beds," he added, indicating the two men restraining her.

"Incarcerous!" he muttered, and roped wended their way out of his wand, wrapping themselves around Aileen Davis and securing her.

"You know the rules," he said to the two that had been holding her. "She has to stay alive and in a condition to tell her story to the Aurors that will be here by morning. Preferably, she should live long enough to regret her choice of husband - ten, fifteen years, perhaps. Other than that she's yours until five in the morning, when you'll release the Dark Mark above the property and be back home."

The two men nodded eagerly, and Harry Apparated away with the other three that had accompanied him.

They visited nine more houses with similar results. Each of the properties was owned by a pureblood that had married a Muggle or, in one case, a Squib. The routine was pretty straightforward: Harry would show up at the door with five or six Death Eaters and force their way in.

Only about half of the occupants were alert enough or brave enough to fight back, but it didn't make any difference even when they did. They were outnumbered, and in most cases the Death Eaters already had their partner as a hostage, so there was little they could do without sacrificing their loved ones. Of course, they didn't know that the Muggle was going to die anyway, so that didn't stop him or her being an effective hostage.

In each case the result was the same. The Muggle partner was killed, and the pureblood captured and tortured by Death Eaters that remained behind. Subconsciously, Harry was very pleased that he didn't have to witness any of the tortures for more than a few moments, but even so he'd seen enough sights this night to sicken even the hardiest of souls.

As dawn broke, and Harry left the tenth house to the sounds of screaming. He finally broke free of the vision and sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring off his body and his head throbbing with the barbarity and ruthlessness of Voldemort's attacks. He jumped out of bed and made it most of the way to the bathroom before his stomach rebelled and deposited the contents of the previous evening's feast on the floor.

He groaned and wished for a House-elf right now, so that he didn't have to clear it up himself, and immediately there was a loud 'crack', and Dobby appeared before him.

"Mister Harry Potter sir is not well," he said gravely, shaking his head. "Harry Potter must go to the bathroom," he added, grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him through the door, then turning the cold tap on full blast and forcing Harry's head underneath it.

Coughing and spluttering, Harry fought back against Dobby's unusual strength, and pushed him away.

"I'm okay, Dobby. Just a bad dream."

"Bad man gives you bad dreams, Harry Potter," the House-elf nodded furiously. "Dobby will clear up while Harry Potter cleans himself up."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at himself. His pyjama top was absolutely soaked, and he was dripping freezing cold water everywhere. He decided to take Dobby's advice, and had a warm shower to clean himself off and try to take away some of the sting of his poor night's sleep.

By the time he had finished showering, had rinsed his mouth out and brushed his teeth, Dobby had cleaned the floor, changed all the sheets on Harry's bed and mopped up the mess he'd left in the bathroom too.

"Harry Potter sir must talk to Headmaster Dumbledore sir," he insisted, and gave Harry a note with Dumbledore's writing on it before disappearing with the same 'crack' he had appeared with.

Harry was surprised that neither he nor Dobby had woken any of the other boys in the dormitory with all their noise. The room was already brightening as the sun poked its head above the horizon, and Harry felt it strangely incongruous that it should appear to be dawning a nice bright sunny November morning after the night of atrocities he'd just witnessed.

He looked down at the note Dobby had handed him, and cursed the House-elf under his breath for interfering. He should never have wished for one to come and clear up after him.

Harry,

Dobby tells me you've had a vision. Please come and see me as soon as you are recomposed. The password to my office is 'sugar quill'.

Professor Dumbledore.

He wondered how long he could put off going to see Dumbledore, but figured he'd best get it over with. He left a quick note for Ron, so that he could pass the message on if he was delayed. After their recent miscommunication, he didn't want Ginny to be too worried. Pulling on his clothes, he hurried out through the common room.

"Don't go so damned fast," he hear Moody's voice from down the corridor.

"It's okay," Harry replied over his shoulder as he scooted off. "I'm going straight to Dumbledore's office. You can meet me there."

He heard a gruff reply but didn't quite catch the words as he dashed off, leaving Moody to stomp along in his wake, the thudding of his wooden leg on the stone castle floors echoing around him.

He reached Dumbledore's office in good time, and gave the password to the gargoyles which swiftly moved out of his way. He heard one of them muttering about how often they seemed to be letting him in, and he hid a grin - he had to agree really, he seemed to spend an awful lot of time between Dumbledore's office and the Hospital Wing.

At the top of the staircase the wooden door was already open, but Harry knocked gently on it as he entered the office, giving the Headmaster a moment of warning that he was there.

Dumbledore looked as though he had been expecting him though, because he was sitting up straight in his chair looking at the door as Harry entered.

For once, he didn't beat about the bush with pleasantries.

"Tell me about your vision, Harry," he requested, and motioned for Harry to sit

He perched himself on a chair and gave a detailed account to the Headmaster that was only interrupted briefly when Moody walked in with a gripe about young kids dashing all over the castle.

Dumbledore appeared gravely concerned.

"I feared something like this when Dobby brought word that you'd had a vision," he said, a sad expression on his face. "I'm sure that he chose this particular night because he knew that Ministry activity would be more or less minimal, so had the best chance of getting away with it, but I am most concerned that it will become a regular occurrence."

Harry winced. He certainly hoped that he didn't have to go through similar visions as regularly as Dumbledore was implying. Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking though.

"It's vital that you work hard to keep your mind defended against such attacks, Harry. I don't think you would be able to cope if this were to happen every night. You have already been pushed to the limits of endurance by your nightmares, and to add this on top would probably drive you mad.

"To deal with one, you must deal with the other though. To ensure you are sufficiently rested to fully concentrate on defending your mind, you must dispel your nightmares."

"But you said there is nothing I can do-" Harry began, but was interrupted.

"The only thing you can do is to confront your fears and deal with them out in the open, rather than letting them fester in your subconscious, where they remain only until your mind rests. When you sleep, your mind then dwells upon those matters you wish to avoid thinking about during the day."

"What do I do?" Harry asked plaintively.

"Your main concern is the safety of others, primarily Miss Weasley, am I right?" the Headmaster asked.

Harry nodded.

"Then you must talk to her about your fear. Let her assuage those worries and put you at ease." Dumbledore looked at him shrewdly. "It is not a baseless fear, or a weakness, to be more concerned for the safety of those you love than for your own."

Harry started at the word 'love', but Dumbledore had continued, so he didn't have chance to say anything further.

"You saw in your vision how those we care for can be a weakness to us - if they are threatened, we are threatened. The answer is not to hide behind those fears or to give in to them, but to face them head on and find a way of addressing them, so that the fear is replaced by a certainty that, for example our families are able to fully defend themselves.

"I'm sure you saw that weakness in those that were attacked last night - that is how Voldemort works. He attacks us through our weak points so that our carefully planned defences crumble to dust before him. He feeds on the weak and makes the strong fearful, makes them feel weaker than they are, makes them feel vulnerable, then exploits that vulnerability.

"You must be strong, Harry. But those who surround you must be strong too, to protect themselves and save your worry. You must all face up to your fears and demonstrate that you have no weaknesses. You must make Voldemort fear you because you display no weaknesses to him."

Moody snorted at the latter. "Your rhetoric is getting you carried away again, Albus. Let's get through one thing at once here. Potter needs to sort out his nightmares so he can concentrate on building up his skills, both mentally and physically. Let's worry about that for now."

"Perhaps so, Alastor," Dumbledore shrugged. "Still, I would like you both to bear my words in mind."

He sighed heavily. "I'm expecting the Minister for Magic as soon as he wakes this morning. He's not going to be very happy with some of yesterday's events."

Harry turned to Moody with a questioning look, but he just shrugged back, indicating that Dumbledore would have to explain.

"The Minister has been on holiday the last week or so - I believe in the comfort of a nice villa in Tuscany that the Italian Minister allows him to use for such occasions," he began. "I decided to take advantage of his temporary absence from office by instituting the trials of those that were apprehended in the Department of Mysteries last June." He cast a smile down at Harry, knowing how much the young man had gone through regarding that particular day.

"As you had no doubt already suspected, Minister Fudge was not convinced of the need to undertake such trials, feeling as he did that the simple fact that certain of those captured couldn't possibly have been involved. You may recall, Harry, that you were invited to give evidence to an inquiry relating to those events."

Harry nodded, and he heard Moody grunt his agreement too.

"Well, given the way that the other two members of the panel felt about your evidence and how bad a light it placed on certain of the Minister's primary campaign contributors, I can't imagine you would be surprised if I told you that the whole concept was abandoned."

Dumbledore wrinkled his nose in distaste at the political background to the situation, and Harry suddenly realised why the Headmaster had so often turned down the suggestion that he should be Minister.

"Anyhow, I digress somewhat," he sighed, and pushed his half-moon spectacles a little higher on his long nose. "With the Minister out of the way, I conspired with Madam Bones to fast track the trials of those eleven Death Eaters, and I can confirm that the Wizengamot agreed quite strongly with my own personal opinion, that they were guilty of a number of charges, ranging from trespass to attempted murder, and have been sentenced accordingly."

Moody snorted. "And I suppose that the first thing that the Minister does when he hears what you've done behind his back is to come up here whining and complaining."

"I strongly suspect that will be the case, Alastor."

As Dumbledore uttered these words, the fire behind him burst into life, flaring up with the bright green flames that accompanied the normal Floo communications.

"Dumbledore? Dumbledore?" the unmistakable voice of Cornelius Fudge rang out. "Where in Merlin's name are you?"

The Headmaster sighed theatrically, and muttered something under his breath, before adding a greeting to the Minister out loud.

"Good morning, Cornelius," he said with forced politeness. "What can I do for you this morning?"

Dumbledore waved Harry and Moody towards the door and out of his office as he turned to give his full attention to the Minister.

"Come on through, Cornelius," he urged.

As Moody closed the door behind them, the last glimpse Harry had of Dumbledore's office was of the Minister leaping through the grate red faced and blustering. The two of them stood there for a minute or two eavesdropping on the conversation, and Harry clearly recalled the similarity with their departure from the inquiry.

"What the hell are you up to, Dumbledore?" they could hear Fudge asking. "What's this about Lucius and his friends being convicted and sentenced to Azkaban?"

"Why, Minister, they were brought before the Wizengamot and given the full benefit of a full trial, with due respect to the law. They were found guilty. What did you expect?"

"I thought we agreed that these trials were far to sensitive to be rushed into. You can't simply go around accusing people of being Death Eaters. The defendants needed time for their lawyers to get a proper defence together!" Fudge nearly screamed at the Headmaster.

"I'm sure they've had plenty of time, Minister," Dumbledore reassured him. "After all, it was over four months ago that they were apprehended. Besides, I don't recall us ever agreeing on this subject. If you wanted to take a good look at the records, I think you'll find that the proper procedures were followed and the majority of the Wizengamot concurred that indeed the time was right for the cases to be heard."

"But this is preposterous! All this on the say-so of one boy?" Fudge spluttered. "What is the government coming to when the Minister can be so easily over-ridden?"

"Ah! I thought that might arise, Cornelius. I can assure you that this was perfectly within the power of the legislature and judiciary to act upon. There was no necessity to call upon the approval of the executive arm of government at all. Don't we live in a wonderfully just society?" Harry could hear the satisfaction in Dumbledore's tone with this last comment as he gave a lesson in wizarding government to the Minister.

He would have liked to have stayed and listened longer, but Moody tugged the sleeve of his robes and indicated that they should depart, leaving Harry musing on a number of things that Dumbledore had told him this early Friday morning.