Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter Thirty-One ~Aftershocks

* * * * * * *
He said life's so hard sometimes
When it feels like I'm towing the line
And no one even cares to ask me
Why I feel this way.

3 Doors Down ~ The Road I'm On
* * * * * * *

Well, good morning, Potter, Voldemort said genially. Harry groaned silently, not allowing Voldemort the pleasure of knowing how annoyed he was at the visit. He was sitting in his normal comfy armchair, though he didn't feel at all comfortable in it. Instead, the similarity to the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room only made him want to be here less. I wanted to invite you to my celebrations on this anniversary.

That is very kind of you, Harry replied dryly, feeling his stomach drop at the thought of another Revelry this night, but I'm afraid that I'm all partied out.

Oh, but I insist. You must come to congratulate my newest Death Eaters' on their initiations, Voldemort persisted, gently tugging at the line that connected their consciousnesses. Harry dug his mental heels in, refusing to lose more sleep or to see even more horrors to fuel his inferno of nightmares.

You'll have to pass along my congratulations to them for earning themselves life terms in Azkaban, Harry said, trying not to grit his teeth in the effort to stay in his own head. Voldemort had started to pull in earnest, though both remained sitting serenely in their respective chairs. Even if someone was able to watch this wonderful conversation between the two enemies, the person wouldn't be able to see the real struggle going on. It seemed like a friendly conversation between—well, not friends—but maybe acquaintances. I just can't make it tonight. Though I'm sure I'll see them sometime soon.

Now really, Potter, where are your manners? Voldemort slowly drawled, his voice smooth even though the pressure he applied to the mental tug-of-war had increased. You can't turn down such an invitation. Harry felt his mental balance wavering dangerously. As good a teacher as Severus was, Voldemort was a hundred times more accomplished and sneaky as a Legilimens. And Harry was light years behind in experience.

No, go on without me, Harry answered slowly, sparing as little attention as possible on his words. He was desperate not to go to this night's Revelry. But it would take more than Harry had to not go, not with Voldemort so insistent that he must attend. The room was going greyer and greyer, slowly turning to black.

I wouldn't dream of it! Though... you might. It happened in what seemed like slow motion, Harry felt Voldemort find the weak spot around the scar link and levered his mental grasp into it. With a smile of triumph, he took hold of Harry's consciousness and dragged it from Harry's mind into his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voldemort opened his eyes and Harry saw a small gathering of Death Eaters filling the broken pews. Two female Death Eaters were putting on the final touches to their initiation torturing. Looking at the trains on their victims’ pajamas, Harry recognized the characters from a popular Muggle children's program. Harry concentrated on their pajamas, not wanting to see their potion-mutilated faces as they died. But that was unavoidable. After all, at every Death Eater's initiation, he or, in this case, she had to use all three Unforgivables to prove that they could. And that unavoidably meant death, the death of such young children whose lives had barely begun.

"Kill them," Voldemort ordered, and the women did it instantly without a second's worth of hesitation.

"Avada Kedavra!" they cast in unison, the familiar green light brightening the room, and then the two little boys' bodies stopped twitching. It was a kind gift, though Harry knew it wasn't given in mercy or compassion.

Both women went to one knee, facing Voldemort, with their heads bent down as far as they would go. Unlike those watching the initiation, this was not groveling. It was reverence and acceptance of Voldemort's dominion over them, but not groveling. The older Death Eaters, the ones watching, were all in disgrace for allowing Voldemort's cause to lose the Battle at Hogwarts' Wall. Even those standing seemed to be groveling, and this suited Voldemort. A quick glance at the shadows in the corner pleased him even more.

Looking back at the two women calmly kneeling before him, Voldemort smiled a sardonic smile. These two knew they were valued—and they were—their bows were of respect, not fear. It reminded Harry of someone...

"Bella, come here," Voldemort beckoned, one finger calling to the figure in the shadows. Bellatrix Lestrange detached herself from the shadows and moved to stand before Voldemort, her head bowed, her right arm hidden behind her, the two new Death Eaters behind her. Harry realized that the new Death Eaters reminded him of her—at least the old Bellatrix.

Voldemort stood and moved with an evil grace to stand between the kneeling figures. Bellatrix hid a small grimace as he walked right past her without acknowledging her further. Turning slowly, he faced one of his longest serving servants. One of his most faithful followers.

"Are you not pleased with my new pets?" he asked, a hand resting on the shoulder of each of the two Death Eaters. Bellatrix's grimace of hate and envy deepened, though she tried valiantly to hide it. "Why do you feel threatened by such unproven ladies?" Bellatrix started to say something but stopped at Voldemort’s cold, cruel laugh, a laugh that had haunted Harry's nightmares for years. "Maybe you know that you have been replaced even before they have been tested?" Bellatrix's face blanched and she quickly fell to her knees. "For, it is true, Bella, you have been replaced. Maybe not by these two today, but others will come." She was trembling now.

Voldemort smirked and returned to his throne at the front of the cathedral. Harry could feel Voldemort's delight at Bellatrix's fear and uncertainty. The witch had given much to his cause and now she meant nothing to him. Harry almost felt sorry for her... almost. She would learn the hard way that Voldemort only looked after himself.

"My Angel of Death, come to me," Voldemort called silkily. The taller and thinner of the two initiates stood, her black hair spilling from inside her hood. As the firelight from the lamps reflected off her hair, Harry noticed a green tinge to it, moving from deep, deep emerald (so deep it was almost black) to a bright green that reminded Harry of the Killing Curse and which matched her eyes perfectly. Looking into those green eyes so different from his own, Harry felt that vague sense of similarity between her and Bellatrix. Only, there was no madness in this new woman's eyes. She had not spent years in Azkaban, had not given it her sanity. They were bright with youth, with eager anticipation, and with a drive to prove her loyalty.

"My loyal pet," Voldemort said, his voice caressing the Death Eater before him. "Give me your arm." She came even closer and held it out for the monster to grab. He pushed up the sleeve of her robe to expose the Dark Mark on her arm, a red shape of a skull and snake, a red similar to a crushed red rose, to blood. He stroked the newly burnt Mark with gentle care, knowing that even such a soft touch would cause her immense pain. She tensed, but did not scream.

Such control.

He had missed Severus' unwillingness to scream in front of him. None of the other Death Eaters had the same iron control over themselves as Severus had. In the end, the one thing Voldemort had held so highly in the man had been the thing to enable Severus to betray him. This comparison, as unprovoked from her as it was, was not going to be a good thing for her. She would always be connected to Severus in his mind, always doubted because she had the same iron control over her emotions as Severus had. In her case, it was because she had studied with an African witch doctor for a few years after Hogwarts. They were Hell bent on controlling emotions, those African shaman were. But, that didn't matter. Voldemort had always attributed Severus' control to Tobias' influence, and though he had been right, Severus' loyalties were not his father's.

For the second call, Voldemort pressed hard, causing her to gasp in pain, but nothing more than that. Death Eaters called from the first brush, started to filter into the almost empty cathedral. The larger majority called by the second touch would be coming in a few minutes. Harry was dutifully ignoring the burning sensation traveling back along the connection from his scar.

Voldemort let go of the arm and the initiate moved to stand at Voldemort's right side. He smirked at her daring—something he hadn't expected from the Ravenclaw—but did not rebuke her. Instead he nodded his permission to stand there, sensing Bellatrix's nervous twitch. He looked up, but not at his former favorite.

"We can not forget your friend, Angel," he said reflectively. "Reaper, come, stand at my other side, my Irish imp." She stood with the grace of an athlete and took her place at his left side. As Death Eaters swarmed the cathedral, Bellatrix slunk back to the shadowed corner she had come from. The new arrivals filled the pews, all-kneeling, heads bowed low, the sense of groveling overwhelming Harry.

My ranks have swelled since I killed Dumbledore and gained Ravenclaw's legendary weapon, Voldemort said, answering Harry's unasked question. They have come from all over the world, sensing my power and future reign. They are not all Death Eaters, but they are all willing servants. They answer to one of my chosen few. The bowing forms of Death Eaters lined the openings where the stone walls had fallen. A few bowed in the broken windows. Finally, one of them came forward, bowed, and then crawled forward further, kissing Voldemort's robes. One after another did this, and Voldemort waited patiently for the ceremony to finish.

"Are we all here?" he called, knowing that there were a few missing. It would be something he would deal with later. The leaders of the different circles either called yes or no, depending on the truth. "They're late." A shiver went through the group; once that was declared, anyone arriving afterwards would not be received kindly. And if they never showed up—well... they had better have a very good reason.

"We are off!" He stood, put both his hands out for his new initiates to touch, and then apparated to the site of the Revelry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya Britton slammed the door to her bedroom closed, her hazel eyes flashing dangerously. Grabbing her cool-off book of the week—The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis—she threw herself onto her bed and opened it to the page marked. The Chronicles of Narnia were the books at the root for (but not the actual subject of) the latest battle with her mother and step-father. Instead of finding solace in the world so different from her own boring, pitiful life, Arya found her temper boiling dangerously. Carefully laying the Terry Brooks' bookmark in the crease of the two pages, Arya set it down on her bedside table. Turning over to lay on her stomach, she started pounding on the pillow.

Reaching over blindly, her head buried in the softness of the pillow, Arya grabbed her stereo remote, turned the radio on, and turned it up a few notches. Then and only then did she start screaming and crying into her pillow. They just didn't understand! Why were they punishing her for something they had started!

"You can't live in a fantasy world forever, Arya!" Mum had shouted at her. All she wanted to do was go to a Lord of the Ring convention in London next summer! She was going to pay for the trip and everything! They acted like she wanted to join a coven or something! Who got to pick what was fantasy and what wasn't? Her dad would have let her go!

"You can't go and that's final!" her step-father had said, and his word was final.

At least, as long as she lived under his roof.

But that wasn't for much longer.

"You're eighteen," Mum had pleaded, trying to make her understand why they didn't want her to go. Well, if she was eighteen, then they wanted her to turn her back to the only constant source of peace and calm that Arya had during the last eighteen years.

Not even her family life had been that rock for her, what with her parents’ divorce eight years ago and the splitting of her and her sister, Esther. Esther had moved with Dad to the States. Arya, though given the choice (How dare they make us choose!), felt obligated to stay with Mum. How could she leave Mum all alone? Well, alone hadn't lasted long; Mum had married her second husband six short months later.

The tears had slowed and Arya stood to look at her bookshelves. All of Tolkien's books rested there. Her hands ran along the shelf devoted to this amazing man and the world he’d created. Well worn spines looked back at her, several hardcovers slowly replacing the even older paperbacks. Her favorite, a book on the pronunciation of Elvish, caught her eyes and made her smile through the tears.

The other shelves were filled with books from her other favorite authors. Terry Brooks, Tamora Pierce, and Brian Jacques filled those shelves, along with random books she had gotten for cheap at used book stores. She'd read ever last one of those. They were her escape.

The Chronicles of Narnia had its own special spot on the shelf over her bed. It had started it all. First the Narnia series, than Pierce's books. Brooks and Tolkien came next, read at the same time, long before anyone thought a little ten-year-old could handle such deep reading. If her parents hadn't given her the Narnia books so long ago, she wouldn't be fighting with her mum all the time. How could they punish her for something they started?

All she wanted to do was go to that convention. Eight years of intense, dare she say it, study of all things Tolkien had made her an expert of sorts, but definitely a fanatic. New Line Cinemas would be at this national convention looking for experts for their upcoming filming. To be a part of something like that was a once in a lifetime opportunity! To even be a small little unnamed assistant to a slightly larger unnamed assistant would be amazing!

Loud bangs were coming from downstairs and Arya seethed. Sure, it was okay for them to get lost in the newest T.V. show, blaring it, but she couldn't get lost in the books that had kept her sane! Her mum could spout off nonsense about actors and actresses, but when Arya said something about the upcoming filming of the three installments of the Lord of the Ring, she was ridiculed!

What was that screaming? Did they have to turn their T.V. shows up so loud that it was impossible for her to hear her own thoughts?

"That's it!" she shouted. She snatched the remote and turned it up further, trying, but failing, to drown the T.V.'s screams out. She threw it at her bed, where it hit the headboard and shattered. Grabbing her sports bag, Arya started piling in her clothes. She'd go to a friend's house tonight—Brittany wouldn't mind—and then to Aunt Kelly's place tomorrow. Aunt Kelly had given her an open door invitation during the last Christmas holidays, after listening to Arya's rant. This was just too much. The screaming stopped abruptly, at least from downstairs, though there was a much quieter and distant screaming still filtering in over the music.

Arya wasn't sure if she had really heard it or not. She walked over and turned her radio down. Sure enough, the screaming was coming from outside. She knit her brow in confusion, not sure what was going on. Walking over to the small window, she stared down at the street. What her eyes saw would leave a burned image on her mind forever.

Her small sleepy little town was burning. It was either a very accomplished arson who had made some of the flames green or it wasn't natural. A skull with a snake slithering from its mouth glittered over many of the houses, like fireworks that lasted unnaturally long. Men and women in white, skeletal masks and long, black robes were in the streets, what looked like laser beams shooting from the pieces of wood in their hands. Only, laser beams shouldn't throw her neighbors ten feet through the air to hit her house.

What were they doing to little old Mrs. Buhner? Why was she twitching like that? The woman who had the stick pointed at Mrs. Buhner bowed to a man who nodded at her question. He was turned sideways to Arya so she couldn't see his face and he seemed to be in charge of this destruction.

The woman torturing Mrs. Buhner tore her mask off, laughing. Loose auburn hair flew about, freed from the hood and mask that had held it back. The woman turned slightly, now in the light from the streetlamp Arya could see the look of delight and abandon on the beautiful face, her back to the man in charge. The laugh drowned out the screaming, a hysterical cackle that reminded Arya of all the bad Halloween movies with stereotypical green skinned witches. Though this beautiful young woman didn't look like the stereotype, all of Arya's fantasy knowledge told her that this woman was a witch.

So, magic was real...

Years of wishing seemed to have finally come true in the most horrific of ways. Feeling a lead weight in the pit of her stomach, Arya made her way downstairs. Skipping the step that squeaked, she entered the den. Reaching the edge of the sofa, Arya's eyes fell on her Mum's and step-father's prone bodies, headless and lifeless. As she emptied the contents of her stomach a low, dangerous laugh came from behind her.

Wiping her hand across her mouth, Arya stood up and turned around slowly to face a thing from one of her nightmares. Red eyes stared out from deep-set sockets, with pupils like a cat's. It had slits for a nose, quite like a snake—actually, this nightmare reminded Arya of a snake. He was tall, skinny, skeletal even, and moved with a grace that evoked a strong feeling of a snake.

"Ah, a straggler," he said, his "s" longer, a pronounced hiss. Arya was frozen to the spot; the wand held loosely in the stranger's hand was now pointed right at her. What to do? she asked herself, her eyes jumping from side to side, looking for a way out. "Crucio!"

She wasn't ready for the pain when it hit her. All she could think of was the endless overwhelming pain. Every nerve in her body was screaming out, as if needles were pricking each one individually. The pain lifted and Arya found herself on the ground next to her step-father's body. She hastened up, flustered by being so near a corpse.

"Death is despicable, isn't it?" the snake-man hissed. He waved his arm around the room gracefully, "My little Angel and Reaper did this, you know? Those Ravenclaws were quite a find, I must say."

"Ravenclaws?" she asked, trying to keep the monster talking long enough for her to escape.

"Don't bother your worthless mind on—" Something had cut the demon off, and Arya took advantage of his distraction by darting to the window. The sight of six or seven witches and wizards made her decide not to jump out, but there was no other way out, except through the door. But... the stranger stood rigidly in the way. The red eyes seemed to have lost focus and Arya thought that she had been forgotten. There was no way she'd be able to squeeze past without touching him.

"Run!" a voice unlike the snake-man's said. It spoke with the stranger's mouth, but didn't sound anything like the hissing of earlier. "Didn't you hear me?” the voice sounded strained, “Run! I can't keep—him—occupied—for—long!" The man moved woodenly out of the doorway, and Arya didn't waste any time. "Get out and hide!" was the advice shouted after her. Arya shook her head in disbelief. She ran out the back door, grabbing the emergency flashlight as she went, and into the forest that circled the town. She broke off from the path, slowing down so as not to leave a trail. Years of fantasy reading were going to come in handy! Sounds of pursuit came to her, and she hurried a bit faster, heading toward the caves.

Arya had spent a lot of time hiding from her mum and step-father out here and she knew the woods, caves, and surrounding area like the back of her hand. Once she was in the caves, no one was going to find her. She found the caves and followed them, heading to the beach at the foot of the cliffs a hundred meters down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry looked in horror as Voldemort spotted a girl gazing down on them. Out of the corner of Voldemort's eye, Harry saw Reaper rip her mask off and pull her hood down. Her back was to him now and Harry wouldn't be able to get an identification on her. Not much older than he was, her eyes were trained on one of the new Death Eaters torturing an old woman in the lady's own front yard. The face disappeared from the window and Voldemort walked back into the house. He heard the retching sound coming from the den where the initiates had tortured and murdered a couple watching T.V.

Voldemort laughed softly as he entered the doorway, blocking the girl's only exit. "Ah, a straggler," he said softly, sending shivers down Harry's mental spine. This shall be fun, don't you think, Potter?

Thrilling, Harry said dryly, wishing he could just shut the eyes. Voldemort blinked, only the eyelids stayed closed a second longer than normal for a blink. Harry realized quickly that in the glory of the night's Revelry, Voldemort had let his shields deteriorate. Thinking of a late chapter in the Legilimency book, Harry quickly, but carefully, started picking at the small gaps in the shield, hoping to save this girl's life at least.

The girl was crying, tears of fear, sorrow, frustration, and horror mixing as they traced down her face. After the Cruciatus, tears of pain joined the others. Miraculously she scrambled up, though it might have had something to do with the girl's location so near her dad’s headless body.

"Death is despicable, isn't it?" Voldemort said, waving around casually. "My little Angel and Reaper did this, you know? Those Ravenclaws were quite a find, I must say." Harry grimaced; the demon had found two Death Eaters that Harry was starting to hate more than Bellatrix, though he hadn't thought it possible. Best friends, it seemed, one with striking auburn hair bushy from all the curls, the other with the straight silky black hair tinged green. Both, as Voldemort had informed him earlier, were Ravenclaws.

"Ravenclaws?" the girl asked bewildered, looking for a way out. Finally making it through the shield, Harry searched Voldemort's mind, looking for the motor controls. It was difficult—and way too advanced for Harry—but that had never stopped him before.

"Don't bother your worthless mind on—" Harry found the controls, and stopped Voldemort mid-sentence. An intense battle ensued, Harry losing touch of what the girl was doing. Eventually, though Harry didn't know how long, he had control over what Voldemort said as well.

"Run!" he said, surprised when his own voice left the mouth of his most hated enemy. "Didn't you hear me? Run!" Voldemort realized just what he was doing. "I can't keep—" Voldemort struck at Harry's mental connection with himself, "—him—" which sent vibrations back, "—occupied—" to his body almost, "—for—" severing the connection,"—long!" But Voldemort had failed and Harry made Voldemort's legs move out of the girl's way. Harry felt like he was operating a marionette. She sprinted past him and Harry shouted after her, "Get out and hide!"

He struggled to keep control of Voldemort, to give the girl as much of a head start as he could. But Voldemort had been possessing people much longer than Harry had. That was what this was—a battle for possession. Harry realized Voldemort had him surrounded, had blocked the way out of the demon's mind.

This was what Severus had meant about it being deadly for an inexperienced Legilimens.

Dragon dung!

Voldemort squeezed on the small invading army that was Harry's consciousness. If Voldemort managed to destroy it, he would win the war. One girl's life in exchange for the world. Why had he been so stupid? Remembering yet another page from the book, and what had happened over Christmas, Harry concentrated on the most recent hurtful memory he could—the engagement party. Ron and Hermione making cute puppy eyes at each other. Harry, Bill, and Ginny giving them a hard time about it. Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati supplying drinks and music. The dancing. The laughter. The food. The drinks. The love. The joy. The hope.

Voldemort’s grip on Harry's consciousness slipped and Harry made a quick retreat to his own section of Voldemort's mind. Desperately, he tried to find the connection to his body back in Hogwarts. Voldemort tracked him down, trying to surround him once more. Harry had over-stepped the boundaries as a guest in Voldemort's mind. Harry was now an enemy that could do him harm, and Voldemort wasn't going to have any of that.

Feeling a tug from Hogwarts, Harry gratefully accepted the help and followed it back to his body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That fool!" someone was yelling near his bed. Harry tried to focus on the sound, but nothing seemed to be working. "I told him not to do anything we hadn't practiced! I told him he'd end up dead! I told him—"

"Enough, Severus," Mrs. Weasley's firm voice said. "Callan, Nancy, I think he's waking." A cool hand rested on his forehead and spells Harry recognized as diagnostic in nature examined his head.

"Sure enough," Nettle said briskly. "Harry, can you hear me?" He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry to work. He tried to nod, but his head hurt too much. Finally he settled on just opening his eyes. "That's a yes, I take it. Molly, will you pour him a glass of water?"

"Of course," the motherly woman said. The bed mattress sprung up when she stood; Harry hadn't even noticed that she had been sitting there. The sounds of someone pouring water came to Harry's ears. "Would you help him sit up, Severus?" Long fingers carefully supported him, helping him to sit up enough to drink. He downed most of the glass, though he hadn't kept his eyes opened for very long. The light had hurt them. Severus carefully laid him back down.

"Mr. Potter, can you open your eyes, please?" Nettle's voice asked. Harry opened them, finding that someone had dimmed the lights. That relief lasted only a few seconds, before Nettle pointed her brightly lit wand at his eyes.

"Well?" Severus asked delicately.

"No permanent damage," she finally answered. Harry groaned once he realized he was at St. Mungo's. "At least none that I can find. If Mr. Potter consents, I'll allow you to look your way." Her lips had a displeased tightness to them, and Harry knew "his way" was Legilimency.

"Go 'head," he croaked. "I wan' out." The corners of Severus' lips curled up and he stepped closer to the bed.

"Eye contact, Mr. Potter," he said briskly and Harry obligingly looked up into the jet black eyes of the Slytherin. "Legilimency." Harry let Snape snoop around, carefully keeping his memories from catching his own attention. Snape finally blinked, ending the spell and nodded. "Fine. As normal, he has been extremely lucky."

"Can I go now?" he asked, hopeful.

"No," Callan Quirke said sternly. "I'm sure Severus is going to have an earful for you once we're done, but first, I'm going to have my say. What a stupid thing to do! Going deep enough in another's mind, another who is the best Legilimens living, to be that scarred! Your mind suffered quite a bit of damage. Not only did you put yourself in danger, but the whole war! And I'm not talking about this mysterious prophecy I keep hearing about! The wizarding population has fixed their hopes on you! Sure, they grumble, but they always grumble! As unfair as it is of them, they have. You die or get taken out—That'll be the second hero in as many months that Voldemort managed to kill or incapacitate. The fight would go out of them!"

"I think you underestimate quite a few people," Harry said, managing to sit up. "I think, for a large majority, you're wrong. Just those people who like to grumble will give up. Anyways, I know how stupid it was. Just—" He stopped, remembering the fear and... strangely, understanding in that girl's eyes. "There was this girl, 'bout my age, and... Voldemort was going to kill her. She'd just found her parents dead... and... I had to save someone. It couldn't be another whole village destroyed! Not another one! I can't stand watching it happen every other week. And the other weeks there're smaller more private Revelries! I can't take it! It makes me sick! I WON'T TAKE IT! IF I CAN DO SOMETHING, THEN I'M GOING TO!"

Nettle rushed forward and tried to get Harry to calm down. Finally she called for a calming potion as Harry continued shouting about it. It was quite a fight to get the potion in him, but they managed it. A few deep breaths later, Harry was calm, though his cheeks were a deep crimson from exertion, but mainly embarrassment.

"Do not worry," Nettle said kindly. "You're mind has suffered quite a shock. I am going to cut your schedule—do not interrupt me, Mr. Potter—cut your schedule back some for a few weeks. Your classes are safe, though, maybe if you stopped going to Care of Magical Creatures for a few classes and used that time for other homework, that would help. I'm sure you'd be just fine either way. And it would let you finish homework sooner so you can go to bed sooner. But, I'm cutting your D.A. lessons out—let Hermione or Ron teach them—and putting restrictions on Quidditch for the next two weeks."

"We have a game!"

"In a week and a half," Nettle said, cutting him off. "I'm sure you'll be just fine without a week of practice. I'll allow you to attend practices as a coach, but you are not allowed on a broom! Madam Hooch will be very willing to make sure you follow my ruling. Starting next week, Tuesday, you can fly all you want. As for the sleeping issue," she paused and exchanged looks with Severus, Callan, and Mrs. Weasley. "You've been given a dose of Severus' sleeping draft and it kept you asleep for two days, with a little help from the Healers. I'm sure one dose will give you two night's worth of calm sleep. He'll be administering them to you every weekend for a month. Poppy and he will be monitoring you; even a hint of an addiction and we're pulling you off it before it gets to be too much."

"Also, I'd like you—though I'm not requiring you—to stop Bryant's lessons for a week or two. Of all your physical lessons, I believe that is the one you'd be fine missing."

"Why?" Harry asked after she'd been silent for a while.

"Your body and mind need a rest," she answered. "I expect several more explosions like that one will happen in the coming weeks. Just warn your friends, and tell them that rowing with you will actually help. You'll get things off your chest that way. You almost had your consciousness separated from your body, which is a horrible way to die, or so I've found. It's not a quick death or an easy one. And there isn't anything a Healer can do, if the consciousness is not returned to the body... which most enemy Legilimens are not willing to do. You've given us all quite a fright, and now that you've given us a reason, we're stepping in."

"You should have heard Poppy's firecall before she sent you here!" Callan said. "Going on about how she expected this and how she's been worried for you and how stupid you were. She wasn't happy. Not until I told her we'd be able to keep you from overworking yourself now."

"But...I have to train," Harry said desperately, remembering the look that girl had given right before she'd run. She had been so thankful and so relieved. "I have to finish this."

"You need a vacation," Severus said sternly. "A holiday. You didn't rest over Christmas, you worked. The Dark Lord has been hosting Revelries quite frequently to disrupt our world, and most likely to disrupt your sleep. You need to stay healthy, Harry, or all the training in the world won't do you any good."

"Promise us that you'll follow our rules," Nettle said sternly. "Then I'll think about releasing you."

"I promise, not like I have a choice," he said bitterly. "Though you have good reasons," he conceded after they gave him stern looks. He didn't want to spend the night here.

"Well, now, to get you out," Severus said delicately. "The press has camped downstairs, and we can't get a portkey into the school. McGonagall is busy at the moment, not even in the country, and she did not arrange for Filius to set up Portkeys past the wards."

"So, I get to say hi to my adoring fans," Harry said even more bitterly. "Fine, just say I have real robes to change into first."

"Here're your dress robes," Mrs. Weasley said softly, a tear in her eye. The others left and Harry changed into them. He left the room shakily, and braced himself against the hallway wall.

"Come here," Molly said sadly, gathering him up in a motherly hug. She pulled away, and distractedly re-adjusted his robes, straightening them out. She smoothed his tie flat needlessly and then sighed. She went to his side and said, "Hold my arm and pretend to be leading me. That way I can give you support without anyone knowing you need it."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. He couldn't have found a best friend with a better mother than Mrs. Weasley, not even if he'd tried. "You hear about Ron and Hermione?"

"Bill wrote me the Saturday after it happened and Ron and Hermione wrote that Sunday," she answered. "I was surprised, they're just so young, but they've both promised me that they're waiting a year or two before marriage. They just wanted everyone to know they were in it for the long haul."

"Have you seen them?" Harry asked, surprised that they had said all that to her in a letter.

"Yes, they were here for a bit yesterday," she answered. "We had quite a conversation next to you."

"Sorry," he said guiltily. "I didn't mean to end up here. Again."

"Don't you worry about it," she answered, patting his cheek. "I'm just glad you are safe and sound. That girl, did you save her?"

"As far as I know, yes," Harry answered. "It was nice, saving someone instead of watching them die."

"Oh, Hermione's right, you do have a saving-people-thing," she said fondly.

"I'd rather have that than a killing-people-thing," he replied dryly. Severus and Mrs. Weasley both frowned at the comment, but didn't say a thing. He paused in front of the door leading to the reception room and took a deep breath. "Well, I can hear the beetles on the other side. Ready?"

"Ready," Severus and Mrs. Weasley replied. Severus opened the door for them and Mrs. Weasley and Harry fought their way through the crowd, ignoring all the questions. Once out of the hospital, they took a deep breath. Harry let go of Mrs. Weasley's arm and before the press could make it out, he apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Two more pops and Severus and Mrs. Weasley were at his side, Severus catching him before he fell over. It was a long trek up to the castle but the witch waiting for him made it worth it.

"Hey, Gin," he said into her hair as he hugged her close and she hugged him even closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry sighed, his head hurt so badly that he couldn't concentrate on the conversation going on around him. It had been suppertime when he had arrived at Hogwarts several hours ago, and Ginny had known he was coming only because of the ring. Everyone at the school had come up to him to say hi. It had reminded Harry of the Death Eaters crawling to kiss Voldemort's robes, but—thankfully—it wasn't anything of the like. Once they were done, he was allowed to eat and after that Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had walked with him up to McGonagall's office. Though it had technically been an Order meeting, the other three were allowed to stay. Thia, Shacklebolt, and Tonks had questioned him about what had happened for their official report. Because Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had been allowed to stay, he hadn't needed to waste anytime re-explaining himself.

Now, he was laying down in the Gryffindor Common Room, listening as the upper years all discussed...something. He had been losing the ability to follow the thread of conversation over the last hour and wasn't surprised when he couldn't remember who had spoken last. He had been surprised to be told that today was the ninth. He'd been unconscious for a full two days and part of another. He'd also missed three days' worth of classes, which would not be fun to make up.

"Harry? You listening?" Ron asked, laughing when Harry blinked owlishly in reply. "I take it, you weren't."

"Sorry, my head just hurts too much," he answered, swallowing hard when he moved it to look at Ron better.

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked, unsure if he should or not.

"What made it different from the normal nightmares?" Neville asked, his voice worried.

"Can't say," he said, sorry that he had to keep this from them. "It just was, and that's all to be said." He really needed to go to sleep. Staying awake was starting to hurt more than he was willing to put up with. "Gin, could you help me upstairs?"

"Thought you were only mentally hurt," Ron teased.

"Yeah, well, the way my head is pounding, I'm not sure I'll be able to see," Harry responded, trying to keep his voice light, but he didn't think he'd managed it. He was only teasing back, but it was hard when he was so tired. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap. I'm just so exhausted."

"It's to be expected," Hermione said, laying a quieting hand on Ron's arm. "He's got too little energy to be physically all right. And you do remember when he first was learning Occlumency, don't you, Ron? It's something like that only a hundred times worse."

"Glad she knows how I'm feeling," Harry muttered. "Saves me the energy I'd need to explain it. 'Night."

"'Night," came back in response. Ginny helped him to stand and then up the stairs. But instead of leaving right away, she took a seat on his bed.

"You want to talk?" she asked, looking up at him. He was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with a slight smile.

"If I wanted to talk, I would have stayed downstairs," he snapped. "I just want sleep."

"Sleep is a good thing," she consented. He moved to sit beside her, resting his head on her shoulder. "But I was thinking more along the lines of what happened Sunday night."

"Monday morning," Harry corrected, trying to ignore the buzzing of his headache. His scar was prickling as well, the twinges of pain coming at random but frequent intervals. "Technically."

"Thought your mind wasn't working that well," she kidded.

"Isn't," he replied. "I just know I went to bed after midnight."

"True," she agreed. "You sure?"

"Yes," he said, starting to feel slightly annoyed. "Later, when I've got some sleep in me. See you at Bryant's lesson."

"'Night, luv," she replied, kissing him goodnight. "Here, this is for you." She handed him the notebook and left. Harry tossed it on his bed and stood slowly, swaying slightly as his sight dimmed and then returned. He got ready for bed, moving in carefully measured moves, and then flopped (slowly) down on his bed, next to the notebook. Closing the curtains around his bed with a spell, he opened the notebook to a page about two thirds of the way through it and read what she'd written.

Dear Harry~

I find myself once more at the side of your hospital bed. After Ron had gotten me up to watch you suffer a nightmare worse than any other. After listening to Madam Pomfrey flip out in fear for your life and Uncle rant about your stupidity. After Nancy and Callan did their best to save you. Now... you just sleep. No danger of dying unless you do it again. DON'T YOU DARE!!! IF YOU DO, I'M GONNA MURDER YOU!!

Now that I've got that out of my system—It really is too bad you slept through the conversation Mum had with Ron and Hermione. It was funnier than Bill and Melissa's! Come to think of it, you were unconscious during that one as well. Interesting pattern I see developing. I hope you will face Mum when it's our turn. Just kidding, I'm sure you will be. *evil eye* Anyway, she had them both squirming, which was just hilarious. You should have seen them... trying to answer all the questions she was posing, it was... hilarious.

Sorry, had to put the quill down to calm my laughter. Ron and Hermione were glaring at me as if they knew I was laughing at them... Though... seeing that I was looking up at them while I was writing, they might have... oh well, they'll get to laugh when it's our turn. Speaking of turns, both sets of twins showed up this time yesterday to visit you while we were here. Not only do Gred and Forge finish each others’ sentences, but now Melita and Mina are doing it too! All four of them! They're spending way too much time together! They brought along their newest prototype, a portable party box—Quidditch edition. I guess what they did for Uncle's birthday was the birthday edition. This is equipped with everything a House needs to celebrate a Quidditch win or boost its spirits after a Quidditch loss. I'm sure we'll use it to celebrate our win next week.

Let's see, who else has been around to visit? Bill and Melissa came by Monday evening after lessons, that was yesterday. Remus stopped by this morning I guess (full moon tonight, poor bloke doesn't look much better than you), and Thia this afternoon. She dropped the three of us off. Uncle has been in and out, helping with the magic needed to help repair the mental damage. McGonagall came Monday before she left for France. I gather that the French Ministry is thinking of sending aid. Um... Tonks was here for a bit... Charlie and his girlfriend, Terry... Nice gal, they were here when the twins were, and they were giving him a hard time 'bout how much she reminds them of Mum and me. Charlie almost hexed them, but Terry wouldn't let him. So I did instead. All four of them. Quite fun, really, and Ron said I did all four Bat-bogey hexes in less than twelve seconds. Mum caught me though, so I'm technically grounded. Not sure how she's going to enforce it with me at Hogwarts, so it doesn't matter that much.. Who else... I'm missing someone... Bryant! Honestly, I'm not kidding, the big bear of a man was here, just checking up on you!

Can't believe how boring school is without you... everyone seems to think that 'cause you're in the hospital they should be quiet and reserved... quite annoying really. I've started a "Talk for Healing" campaign but it has met with some resistance. Hermione actually told me not to be so... oh, what was the word... it wasn't childish... but... oh! I wanted to remember to tell you! Not juvenile... something along those lines... I can't believe I forgot! Though, Luna has joined me in my quest and is the only other person to wear the badge.

Next year's gonna be a drag with you and Ron and Hermione and Sephra and Blaise and Neville and Dean and Seamus and Lavender and Marissa and Parvati and Padma and Justin and Hannah and Susan and Michael (sorry, ex-boyfriend or no, he's fun to hang out with!) and Ernie and... well... everyone else... Just Luna and me and the Creevey brothers... how will we ever survive without you all?!?!?!?!? Oh, I'm sure we'll manage but... will it be happily? I doubt it will be as much fun without you and Ron on the Quidditch team, and who's going to help me with Ancient Runes when Hermione's gone?!?! Wow... that's a long list... Didn't realize how many people I hang out with are actually older than me... I've always felt older than most of them... which isn't fair, 'cause most of them have gone through just as much as I have...

Hey... speaking of the Creevey brothers (and don't, please, ask me why it reminded me of this... 'cause I won't admit it and neither will they!) but... and it really does have nothing to do with them... but... Bill’s fan club is really just wrong! You know some fifth year Ravenclaw asked if I wanted to join and was surprised when I gagged in response!?! And she didn't know we were related, let alone siblings! I mean, yeah, my bro is a great teacher and a wonderful Head of House, but that's not what the club's about. Listening to Lavender and Parvati and the other girls (minus Hermione who's got her own Weasley crush! Ugh... Hermione and Ron are bad on their own... but... some day there's gonna be a combination of them! Now that's scary! I don't even want to think about that right now) go on and on about Bill... it's just disturbing... and when they asked me 'bout the ring on his left hand they were... well... excited that it was only an engagement ring! I mean, HONESTLY!! As if Lavender wasn't happily going out with Seamus and Parvati with Justin!! It's just... disturbing... it's the only word that comes close to it! Though... none of them are serious about it... I think... and once he's married, they'll calm down... I hope... oh, Merlin, I hope they do... They were a bit put out by the wedding date... There's still hope!

Wow, this is already five pages long! I wish writing essays was this easy. I wouldn't have any problems getting my homework done! Should let you know that you got another E on your healing essay. Althea let me see it, so that I could add anything I wanted to it... so I did... you should enjoy those comments... I tried to be funny, but I might have failed... Althea didn't laugh... but... maybe she just doesn't know our jokes... who knows... you'll figure it out...

Well, they're making us go back to school... we'll be back this time tomorrow if you haven't returned to Hogwarts before hand. They said you probably would... so... See you tomorrow, one way or the other.

Love you forever and a day,
Ginny

Harry smiled and then stretched out, ready for sleep. The letter had distracted him from his headache; though now that he was done with it, the pounding started again. He'd write a reply later, when he wasn't so tired and his head didn't hurt as much. He was sure anything he'd write in this state would be amusing, it would also be embarrassing and Ginny deserved better than that. He put the magical lock on the notebook and placed it and his glasses on his bedside table. He closed his eyes and finally let sleep claim him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Limping his way into the Great Hall the next morning, after his last lesson with Bryant for a couple of weeks (both men had agreed that it would be best after the dismal attempt at today’s lesson), Harry was not pleased at the drop of volume. Nor was he appreciating the looks he was getting—looks of distrust and fear. He stopped suddenly, not sure if he really was up to dealing with the swaying mood of the Hogwarts student body at the moment. Ron pushed him in the back and moved past him into the Hall. Hermione and Ginny moved past as well, giving him curious looks as they passed.

Harry moved on slowly, bowing to the peer pressure of his three friends and the growling of his stomach. He tipped his chin up a bit, not letting his present feelings get to him at all. He slowed up just a tad so that he could straighten his aching back and hide all the tiredness and any other weaknesses. He glanced up at the teachers' table and saw McGonagall and Bill deep in conversation. Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra were debating, Sinistra pointing at her copy of the Daily Prophet. Snape was glowering into his goblet, pointedly ignoring his own copy of the Prophet. It was the reaction at the table to his right, as he walked along the Gryffindor table, that put him on edge. Every Auror went from lazily eating their breakfast to steely alertness, a few actually touching their wands.

"Give me that paper," Harry growled, grabbing Dean's copy of the paper from his hands as he took the seat next to him. Several of the Aurors actually twitched at his tone of voice. Harry consciously ran his fingers along his wand, checking that he had easy access to it. He didn't like feeling threatened at his own house table!

Potter Possession:
Is Potter Really On Our Side?

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop, and he understood why Dean had moved a few small scoots away from him. He glanced up at the table where McGonagall was now speaking heatedly with all four of the Heads, though not a word of their conversation made it to his ears; they must have cast a silencing charm around themselves to keep the conversation from the students. He turned back to the paper, Ginny leaning over his left shoulder to read the article, and scanned it quickly. They were surprisingly accurate (except for the snide questions about his loyalty, they were dead on) and even had an unnamed source from inside the Ministry.

"The testimony Mr. Potter gave last night to
several Aurors describes a possession on his
part," a Ministry official told me early this
morning. "I don't mean You-Know-Who pos-
sessing Mr. Potter. Oh, no! It was Mr. Potter
doing the possessing!"

This startling fact has many ramifications.
Has Mr. Potter been fooling us all? Has he
been the one behind You-Know-Who these
past months? My source, who wished to re-
main nameless out of fear of losing his or
her job, said that Potter knew what he was
doing, at least, that he knew he was actually
possessing You-Know-Who. What does that
mean for our children, living in the same
castle with him? Are they safe from him? Has
Minerva McGonagall, current Headmistress
of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, made
preparations should Potter rebel against us?

No one at Hogwarts was available for comment,
and Synthia Black, commander of the Aurors,
was not answering her floo. It is curious that
Commander Black was one of three Aurors
who questioned Potter—"

Harry stopped reading the drivel and scanned the rest. Explanations on how to protect one's mind from possession and a Legilimency attack were outlined further on. Accusations of conspiracy (which, was technically true if one viewed the Order of the Phoenix the right...er...wrong way) were put out against Minster Emmeline Vance, Thia, McGonagall and several other highly placed Ministry officials who were all Order members. They called for an inquiry to make sure this conspiracy wasn't trying to take over the Ministry as they got rid of Voldemort. How had this gotten printed? This was blunter than anything the Daily Prophet had ever let out. It actively accused several people, himself included, of being part of another enemy or behind Voldemort.

"The editor in chief let this go to print?" Hermione questioned, a bit stunned. "Wonder who blabbed?"

"Well, the list is rather limited, isn't it?" Ron said softly, realizing that everyone was listening. Harry wished he knew how McGonagall had managed a silencing charm without having any physical barriers to contain it. Though, more likely, Flitwick had managed that. "If Thia, Shacklebolt, and Tonks filed their report late last night, only a few people could have gotten their hands on it."

"So..." Dean said, though he stopped when he realized how well his voice had carried. Lots of people had turned to look at him, instead of his neighbor with black hair, emerald eyes, wire-rimmed glasses, and two scars that lay testimony to his two near death experiences. If only they knew that both were caused by failed Avada Kedavras, Harry thought bitterly. Dean cleared his throat and lowered his voice even further. "So... this... is true?"

Harry ignored the question. Instead, he stood up, leaned a bit to the right (Dean shied away from him) and grabbed the platter of bacon. He piled a huge portion on his, Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's plate and then set it down none too gently. Before Harry could deal similarly with the dish of eggs and plate of toast, Hermione and Ginny took them and dished them out. They were exchanging looks with each other and Ron, but for once, Harry didn't care.

Well, no, that wasn't true. He did care. A lot. But, he wasn't going to let himself care or anyone else know he cared. If everyone at the school (and they had all welcomed him back the night before! The idiots!) wanted to believe that he was the next up and coming Dark Lord, let them! If they wanted to believe that all McGonagall and Thia wanted was control of the Ministry, let them! If they wanted to believe that Harry was controlling Voldemort for his own purposes, THEN LET THEM!

A spark left his wand, though his hands weren't touching it. One of the Aurors actually stood. Dean rose hastily and moved down the table towards Seamus and Lavender. Ginny was placing what was supposed to be a calming hand on his arm. All it did was enrage him more. Wasn't he allowed to feel pissed when everyone thought him capable of murder? He almost got himself killed Monday morning and everyone thinks he's capable of controlling Voldemort! Two other Aurors were standing now, flanking the first one. They were walking towards him from down the table. McGonagall was striding towards him from the other end.

Harry stood, his hand no where near his wand. He didn't want a fight. He just wanted the sanctuary of the Room of Requirement. The small part of his mind that sounded like Hermione logically told him that calming down would be best at the moment. He could go rant elsewhere. But—he didn't want to. He was fed up with this back and forth game.

"STOP!" he said softly but angrily, he felt magic radiate outward from that one word. Everyone stopped moving, though they were still breathing, thankfully. Wouldn't that make wonderful headlines? "HARRY POTTER KILLS EVERYONE IN THE GREAT HALL!" He turned to look at McGonagall and saw a look of surprise on her face. She had been frozen mid-stride, arm pointed at the Aurors, mouth opening to say something. The three Aurors had been similarly frozen, though they all had their wands out. Shit, he told himself silently. Did this count as an attack on Aurors? Oh, he was in trouble now...

"Look, I just... wanted to go get a breath of fresh air," he said hastily. "I'm... not sure... what I just did..." He looked around the Hall filled with frozen people. "I haven't lost my temper like this in a very long time... and nothing quite this... extreme has ever happened..." Ginny's eyes were just as confused as he felt. "I think I'll go get Thia... She'll know what to do..." Harry rushed from the Hall, not exactly running away, just hurrying to get help.

"Finite!" Thia cast, ten minutes later. Nothing happened. Nothing had happened the last five minutes she'd been trying to end the spell. "Finite Incantatem!" Nothing happened. Again. Those had been her first spells to try and they seemed to be the last ones as well. "You just said, 'Stop!' and they all stopped?" she asked, her brow knitted together in thought.

"Yes," he replied, almost desperately.

"I'd normally ask my brother, but seeing that you've managed to freeze him as well," Harry looked over at Remus who was talking to Tonks or rather had been talking before Harry had frozen him, "I can't. Let me think, who'd know what to do?" She sat in Harry's empty place and started to think out loud, but not loud enough for Harry to understand. "Okay, I'm going to the Ministry. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Harry watched as she fished out a packet of needles and pulled one out. She tapped it with her wand, and then she was gone. The needle must have been a portkey to the Ministry. He waited, looking around himself almost guiltily. Severus, Flitwick, and Sprout had followed McGonagall around the end of the table, Severus in the lead by several feet. Harry noticed a hand in one of the man's pockets that might have been the one with his wand in it. Ron had a fork full of eggs right in front of his mouth, which must be torture. To have that food so close and yet not have it yet. D.A. members were in different states of getting up. (Even Ron, which made it an even more comical image. Harry knew he'd be laughing about it the next day, just not now.) Blaise and Sephra were actually already past the Ravenclaw table, on they're way over.

He sat down in his seat, and rested his head on his arms. His head hurt so much. Not allowing himself the comfort for more than a minute, Harry sat up straight and thought about what he should do. Surely someone had taught him something that would be worthwhile in this situation. He started to drum his fingers on the table. Maybe, in a few days, the spell would wear off. But... it could be much longer than a few days. He looked up at Hermione, thinking she would know exactly what they needed to do, and was surprised to see the annoyance in her eyes. She looked down at his fingers (Had they always been able to move their eyes?) and he stopped, remembering how much it annoyed her.

Maybe another spell would counteract it. Looking back up at Hermione, he smiled a bit wickedly and placed his wand on the table. "Hermione, do you think another spell, one meant to make you move, might counter act this? Blink once for a yes or twice for a no." She didn't blink for awhile, but Harry watched her eyes focus inwards as they did when she was thinking hard. She blinked once. "Mind if I tried the dancing jinx on you? I know how much you hate it... but... all's fair, right?" She blinked twice, but Harry smiled at her. "Come on, Hermione, for the sake of experiment." She blinked twice furiously, and the glare she gave him was enough to discourage further teasing. "Ron?"

He looked at his best mate. Ron wore a long-suffering look, but blinked once. "Thanks, mate!" He jumped over the table and pulled Ron's chair out, careful to make sure he didn't fall off. "Let's take that out of your hand, that way you won't hurt yourself.” Harry gently pried the fork out of Ron’s hand, “Okay, ready?" Ron blinked once, his resignation complete. Tarantallegra!" For a few seconds nothing happened, but then, Ron's feet started to move and then his whole body was free, only to dance by command. "Finite!" Ron stopped moving. "You want to work on Gryffindors, and I'll move on to Hufflepuffs?" Ron nodded, pulling Hermione out.

"Sorry, 'Mione, you don't get a choice from me," he whispered, smiling even more wickedly than Harry had a moment ago. Several minutes later when Thia walked into the Great Hall, with a very stern looking wizard at her side, she stopped thunderstruck. Most of the students had been freed and were helping their friends if they could. Harry was just considering which of the teachers should be freed (He had decided to let the Aurors stay the way they were until Thia showed up again.) next when he heard her call his name.

"Yes?" he said once he was at her side.

"Tarantallegra," the wizard said with a nod. "Such a simple remedy, but not one most would think of. Tarantallegra!" he said, casting it on the nearest Auror, but moving on to let the Auror deal with the spell. "Tarantallegra! Tarantallegra!" Harry hurried back up the Gryffindor table, unfreezing McGonagall as he went (Why hadn't Ron unfrozen her?). Reaching the staff table, Harry started with Severus and worked his way down the table, meeting Blaise half way through. Blaise gave Harry a reassuring smile and Harry turned around to face the collection of Aurors and Professors standing behind him. He stuck his wand back in his robe pocket, not wanting to seem threatening at all.

"Sorry," he said softly, innocently. "I hadn't meant that to be a spell of any type."

"No, you didn't," the stern and wizened old man said with a nod. "All magical traces were accidental, magic let lose because of a loss of control."

"I'd lost my temper," he admitted, thoroughly ashamed with himself. To lose control at his age! And in such a public way! "I really am sorry."

"Sorry doesn't excuse you from preventing Aurors from arresting you," the first Auror to stand said, the authority of his position behind his words.

"Arrest? For what?" McGonagall asked, her temper kept in check, though her eyes were dangerously sparkling.

"Yes?" Thia agreed, rounding on the Auror dangerously. "For what?" The Auror seemed to balk under their gazes (and Harry didn't blame him!).

"He will need to be punished, Minerva," Professor Sprout said, drawing the attention to her. "Even accidents of this magnitude warrant punishment."

"You aren't going to punish me for losing my temper 'cause these idiots were trying to arrest me?" Harry asked, much louder and much wilder than he expected. Nancy Nettle had been right: he had little control over his emotions at the moment.

"Potter, calm down!" Snape snapped perilously.

"Calm down?" Harry shouted back. "Calm down? They wanted to arrest me! For what? Letting a few bloody sparks escape my wand? For being angry 'cause everyone thinks I'm the next Dark Lord? For breathing?"

"I am not going to have this conversation with a hormonal teenager," Snape replied bitterly.

"Hormonal, my ass," Harry retorted, and though he knew he'd be in quite a bit of trouble later, he continued. "We both know it's just my mental injuries having seriously undermined my control over my emotions and magic. I actually managed to do something worthwhile, though not correctly, and all I get is: 'Has he been the one behind You-Know-Who these past months?'" He took a deep breath, but not to calm himself down. He was slightly aware of the wind rushing past his ears, but he wasn't sure if it was actual wind or his blood pounding in anger. "Controlling him for months! HA! I could barely keep a hold for a few minutes, barely long enough for that girl to get out of her house! And for what purpose? To run into a Death Eater outside? I DON'T KNOW! BUT I HAD TO DO SOMETHING!"

"Calm down!" Snape shouted, his wand actually coming up, though Harry thought he saw a bit of fear behind those obsidian eyes. "Potter, get a hold of yourself! You're going to hurt someone! Most likely yourself!"

"FINE!" Thinking that it was high time for him to leave the Hall, Harry sprinted out, darting around people and heading for the one place he knew he'd be able to clear his head. The Room of Requirement had yet to fail him!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though not completely surprised by Potter's exit, Severus was still at a lost as to what to do. Such an explosion like that in front of the whole school would definitely need an explanation. That was exactly what Minerva and he hadn't wanted to begin with.

"We'll get our explanations now?" Pomona asked, her voice shaking.

Harry's display of wild magic had spooked Severus. The whirlwinds pulling at the boy's clothes hadn't touched anyone else, to be honest. But, the way Potter's words had indirectly directed his magic, Severus hadn't wanted to take a chance.

"Once Harry has calmed down and is willing to talk," Minerva replied, her voice filled with worry. The Great Hall door opened and Severus looked over quickly enough to glimpse Ginny exit the Hall. "Like I said, he might be physically fine, but mentally he's still a bit shaky."

"It's true," someone whispered, a bit awe-filled.

"He took control of the Dark Lord?" a student from his own House whispered, though she was too far away for him to identify.

"Can he possess me?" This came from the Ravenclaw table.

"I told you all! Don't you remember our first year when he set that snake on that Hufflepuff?"

"That's right, he's a Parseltongue."

"There isn't a Parseltongue that's decent!"

"He'd better bloody well stay away from me and my siblings," a Hufflepuff Severus recognized as one of those that had lost their family the last full moon. "Killed most my family and I don't want him coming after the rest of us!"

"Bloody cool!"

"Wicked! Maybe he can make Voldemort kill himself!" Stupid Finnigan, if only it would be that easy.

"I want an explanation now!" Filius squeaked, his body falling into the old defensive stance he'd used as a dueling champion. He felt that Harry was a threat to his students! Whether on purpose or not!

"We have explained it as far as we are willing!" Minerva snapped. She had been having a hard time picking up the pieces of a mourning school and floundering Order. She didn't deserve this disrespect! Filius had even been her student at one time! Sure, a seventh year her first year teaching! But still! "Harry deserves his privacy! The events of early Monday morning are quite like what the Prophet described, thanks to the leak! Only exception being Harry’s intent in it! For Merlin's sake, Filius, he was trying to save a muggle girl's life!"

"If he's a threat to my students," Pomona started, but Severus had had enough! They were not going to heckle Minerva any more!

"He's less of a threat than I am," he growled dangerously low. "You haven't said a word about me teaching your precious Hufflepuffs all these years even knowing my background and abilities! Your Headmaster assured you I was safe to teach, and I have been! Listen to your Headmistress when she says that Harry's ill, but recovering! He suffered a near death injury Monday morning. He is still recovering from it!"

"Does he know Legilimency?" Pomona asked, though she looked as if she didn't want to know the answer.

"Barely!" Severus replied contemptuously. "His arrogant Gryffindor sense of nobility made him try to save a girl's life when it could have very well have cost him his! I told him not to do anything I hadn't taught him!"

"You're teaching him Legilimency?" Auror Alec Bluezy said gruffly. He was a tall man, well set, and wore his years on the force with pride. But Severus remembered the scrawny Hufflepuff he had been years ago in his Potions class. He had always been one to assume. "That's highly restricted."

"No, it isn't," Severus said with a shake of his head. The shake was more at his letting it slip that he had been the teacher, than anything else. "The Ministry only wants everyone to think it is! Harry has become a skilled Occlumens, a person who protects his mind from external penetrations, over the past three years. Legilimency is the next step for someone who must fight a mental battle." Severus watched his words carefully; he didn't want the wrong people to know about their plans for the future. "The Dark Lord has continuously taken his battle with Harry to the mental level, so Professor Dumbledore had seen fit to give me instructions to teach him." A small fib, to be sure, but one that would help in the long run. He looked at Minerva, Bill, Thia, and Remus, glad to see they had schooled their faces not to show their surprise. "Filius, Pomona, you both should be ashamed, questioning your Headmistress about something so serious. Professor Dumbledore held her in his highest confidence for many reasons. Do not doubt her judgment."

"As for you three, I will be issuing a formal complaint against you," he spat at the aurors. "Advancing on a seventeen-year-old boy who had done nothing wrong is irresponsible and worrisome."

"A seventeen-year-old boy did poison Albus Dumbledore," Auror Bluezy said in his own defense.

"A seventeen-year-old boy with the Mark," Severus replied. "And a thirst for power of the darkest type. Harry is not Malfoy, Auror Bluezy." The man started at Severus' knowledge of his name. "He is nothing more than a teenager with a fate much too large laid on his shoulders. We're lucky that Harry has proven to be more than a match for this load, or else we would all face certain death."

"He tried to kill himself!" the Auror said, scrambling.

"As a lesser man would have done years earlier," Severus said coldly, his voice like chips of ice. "It has turned out to be one of his better choices," he said carefully tipping his voice to neutrality. He heard the gasps and had to keep the smirk off his face. Oh, how he did enjoy shocking everyone's sensibilities. "His resolve to see this to an end and the healing that has happened since his capture multiplied tenfold after the attempt. Whatever happened while he was in that coma only steeled his resolve against the Dark Lord." The bell for classes rang. He turned to face Minerva, who, though it didn't show, was quite surprised. "Shall I dismiss the students or will you?"

"I will," she said, her voice only sounding a tad faint with her astonishment. "Everyone, get to your morning classes now. Professors," she gave a meaningful look at Pomona and Filius, "and students alike!" She looked around and spotted Althea. "Althea, if you'd come here and, Bill, if you'd stay."

"Is that all, Headmistress?" Severus asked smoothly, giving her a slight bow. The two she had called stood nearby.

"No," she said quickly. "Althea, am I right in thinking Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter have class with you this morning?" Althea nodded. "Please excuse them from class. Should it take longer than those classes, Bill, please excuse them from your classes as well."

"I'm not excusing Potter from his Occlumency lesson," Severus replied, his tone annoyed. Bill looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Potter now?"

"When he acts as his father's son, he gets called as I would have called the man," Severus replied, his voice still neutral. "And when he acts like his mother's, then I call him as I did her, by first name."

"No, he's not excused from that," she said with a nod. "Of all his lessons, that is the one he needs most. Let us hope Nancy has cut him back far enough." They all nodded. "Don't be late, you two," she tried to tease, giving them a tired smile. "It'll be bad enough dealing with the Prophet's aftershocks. And that's nothing to say of Harry's."