Young Again: The Rewrite

Minerva McGonagall had never been very emotional and so it was only a matter of time before she had full command of herself. After all, as the leader of the Light and of the Order for nearly two years now, it was but second-nature for her to be able to strip herself of such distractions as emotions tended to be. Though, she had to admit, being tossed back in time had certainly seemed to destroy a lot of the emotional barriers she had placed within herself--however, by the time everyone but Albus and Severus had left, she was relatively back to normal.

Back to normal for her meaning that she once again exuded the aura of a confident, powerful Light witch who had, many times, led the way in countless battles against the Dark Lord. The Mistress of Transfigurations who had been a match for any one Inner Circle Death Eater, and many times could best two or even three. The Headmistress of Hogwarts who had held everything together in times when everything was falling apart. Indeed, this was who she had become--no longer the Transfigurations professor who blindly followed Albus, but instead, the one who did the leading and demanded others to follow.

And so it was no surprise that when Albus turned back towards her, he stopped suddenly, as though he had never seen her before--which was very true, Albus had never witnessed her in this light. She had greatly changed during Voldemort's Second Rise, and for the most part, she had changed in such a way that made her stronger, more powerful, and certainly more commanding.

So much changed after you died, Albus. And now I find I cannot trust you as I once did.

As Headmistress over Hogwarts for a whole year after Albus' death, she had witnessed many of the remaining threads of his manipulations twist and turn, and it had deeply shaken her trust in the man she had once called her friend, mentor, and leader. Manipulations, threads of compulsion--even after his death, there had been a net of his power woven throughout Hogwarts and beyond, continuing to influence the world, and it had sickened her to think that her friend could do such a thing. But the evidence that had been before her during her first few reigning months as Headmistress was irrefutable.

I realized then, that I did not know the man at all--that the Albus I knew was only a mask, and the true Lord of Light was shrouded within shadows of lies and deceit. Minerva faced Dumbledore now, taking deep breaths, and in her heart she trembled.

And I cannot let him do so again.

She knew it would come to this. The moment Albus had stepped in during the fight with Pettigrew, the moment he had spun his web of compulsion, his net of forced servitude, the moment he had forced his will on those of the Order--she knew that Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Light, was indeed the master manipulator that had caused so much trouble in her time. Oh, of course, she knew that he had done it in the name of the greater good. But she could never forgive him for the deliberate placing of children in harm, or the sacrifices he had forced others to make.

No one knew, no one had faced the terrible shock that she had experienced when she realized the depths of his manipulations. Not even dear Harry, who had been subjected to so many forced sacrifices by Dumbledore. No, not one of her allies, not one of the Light, not any one but her knew of the subtle coercions that he had used during his life.

And no one, not even her, would have known--if it were not for his Pensieve that he had so carelessly left behind.

She had looked in it during the summer after Albus had been murdered, hoping that somewhere within the silvery remains of the man she had so respected, there would be something useful, a lesson that she could learn, anything that could be of use to the side of Light. And to her surprise, she found memories, multitudes of memories concerning his path from childhood to adulthood, from a powerful Transfigurations professor to Headmaster of Hogwarts, from Light wizard to Lord of Light.

And yet she also saw, within the deepest depths of his past, from the shadiest moments of his memories--she saw with her own eyes the deceptions that he wove, the lies he carefully planted. She watched clearly the webs of compulsions he spun out in subtle, very intricate threads. A great man, a man worthy of all the praise he had received from both Light and Dark wizards alike--but a man who betrayed the very principles that he represented.

The Light was freedom. It was simply that. A freedom of will--so sacred, and at the heart of what it meant to be of the Light.

Of course, it was far more complicated than that. Life is full of paradoxes, full of contradictions. And indeed, the identities of Light and Dark was just as complicated, but just as clear.

It was not as simple as saying that the Light provided freedom and the Dark imprisonment--for the Light valued precision and control, which was a limit to freedom, whereas the Dark was wild and unpredictable. The debate between the differences between Light and Dark had been going on since before the time of Merlin--but to Minerva, it was rather simple, for the definitions came down to free will.

And at the very heart of the Light was free will.

That was why she had sworn her life to the Light when she had attained her rank as Mistress in the art of Transfigurations. She had devoted her life to serving the Light, to protect the freedom of individual will.

And so it hurt her deeply when Albus had so frequently stepped and crushed what she valued above all else--and it cut even more because he, above all, had known exactly why she had taken her oaths.

But the worst, the very worst of it all, was that he had compelled her as well. He had twisted her mind at times to suite his will. And he had limited her own free will.

You have betrayed me, and betrayed the Light. Oh Albus, why have you done this?

Had Minerva not been prepared, had she not trained herself to master Occlumency, had she not already known Albus' intricate Legilimency, she would never have caught his coercions tonight. Though her own Legilimency was nowhere near even what Harry was capable of, she prided herself on her Occlumency. Indeed, defense work had always come naturally to her. Transfigurations was primarily used in defense of one's self when used in battle. Of course, Minerva, as a Mistress of the art, easily struck deadly blows with her abilities when facing Voldemort's armies--however, the very basis of Transfiguration, when it was first developed, was used for defense. And while she knew she could not surpass Albus in the art of defending her mind, her knowledge of the Headmaster's subtle designs allowed her to reject the forced calmness and awe that he had softly fed to everyone within the room.

Forced calmness and awe! Minerva knew that by now, it was only second-nature for Albus to spread his magic, influencing the minds of those around him--it no longer bothered him, as once it did in his relative youth.

You have forgotten what it means to be a true Lord of Light, Albus. I have not.

Minerva remembered reading about Lord Acton, who had been Supreme Magwump for thirteen years before the death of his wife, after which is he had gone to live with muggles. A wizard declared for the Light, he had once written, and Minerva remembered well, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."

You are but one man, though great. You have power, great power, but even in your hands it corrupts. Alone you have stood, and alone you have fallen, disgracing the Light. I shall not let you soil yourself again. Minerva felt her resolve tighten. You once told me that there would come a time when a student must surpass her teacher, and become a teacher herself. You spoke once that a pupil must one day guide her master.

I will do so, Albus.

Minerva looked up calmly at Albus' surprised face, resolve soothing away her fears, and knew in her heart that what she did was right. She would be true to the Light, and would show the Headmaster once again what it meant to be of the Light.

And if worst comes to worst, Minerva thought grimly to her friend and mentor, I will fight you if I must.

The rooms that Harry's parents chose were located in a rather secluded area in the professor's wing, and as Lily quickly drew privacy wards and changed the password, James just as easily conjured a baby's crib. It amazed Harry, as he watched them work from within his new crib, the efficiency and diligence that his parents showed as they worked, each knowing their part. Indeed, it was almost as if they had done this many times, warding their rooms and preparing it for their stay.

Then Harry remembered, as Remus had once told him, of the fact that nearly the whole year before the Fidelius had been cast, before the necessary preparations for the spell had been accomplished, his family had been forced to move from safe house to safe house in order to avoid the Dark Lord. It was during that time, Harry knew, that his parents had gained this careful and cautious routine; and as he watched them now, it was very efficient, indeed.

"And how's our little changeling settling in?" asked Lily, as she finished the last of her wards, easily stretching the mass of rainbow colored threads to encompass the whole room. It was, Harry realized with a start, far more than he would have been able to accomplish. Of course, my mother is a Charms Mistress--it's really no mystery why she'd be able to do that. Indeed, it appeared that she had done it with no apparent trouble at all, raising multiple wards that he guessed even Minerva would have trouble handling--let alone himself. Then again, just as Charms was Lily's strengthand Transfigurations her weakness, so it was that Charms for Minerva was a weakness, and Transfigurations her strength.

Harry giggled in response to Lily's question, happily gurgling with what he hoped was a convincing act of baby-innocence.

"Ready for some sleepy-time?" said Lily as she took him out of his crib to rock him gently, turning to watch James, who waved at little Harry, before leaving for the bathroom to take a shower. "You'll be in dreamland, then! Won't that be exciting, dear?"

Suddenly Harry tensed. Dreamland. My dreams, my nightmares. He had been having horrible nightmares ever since the war started, and he knew that tonight would be no different. I always wake up screaming, and normally Silencing Charms are enough to keep me from waking the others.

He didn't have a wand to cast them now. Blast! What was he going to do?

"Lily! You coming?" yelled a muffled James from the bathroom, and Lily ignored him, rolling her eyes as she smiled back down at Harry. Eeww, thought the baby, just, just... eeww!

"Well, dearest, let's get you settled in," said Lily as she waved her wand, wordlessly casting cleaning spells on his person. Then carefully placing Harry in the crib, she placed her wand on the table next to it, before heading towards the bathroom.

This is my chance, he thought as he watched his mother disappear through the door, and tried forcing his muscles to move. I wonder how much control I have over my muscles? I'm barely over a year old now, would I be able to stand?

Harry found he that, yes, he could indeed stand--but the problem was that he couldn't stand for longer than ten or so seconds, before losing his balance; which was hardly enough, as he had to be able to climb out of his crib and reach for the wand on the table, then return.

Perhaps a little accidental magic would work? I know children do it all the time. It was the result, Harry knew, of uncontrolled power. If he wished hard enough for the wand, as he done plenty of times when he was younger--wishing to be away and Apparating onto the school roof, or turning his teacher's hair blue--he thought he could summon the wand.

Turning suspiciously towards the eerily silent bathroom--Silencing wards, Harry thought to himself--he focused on the wand mere feet away from his crib.

To me, he told it silently, come to me.

And to his complete surprise, it moved, wiggling a little, before stopping. He tried once again, and this time stretched out his hand for it. Accio! he cried in his mind. Come to me, now!

The wand trembled, as though resisting Harry's silent command, but in the end flew into his hand with a sudden rush, and he felt tears suddenly come to his eyes as the wand painfully collided with his sensitive palms. That hurt!

Glaring balefully at the wand before him, much too heavy and large for him to lift, he tried to get his stubby fingers to cooperate and wrap around the wand. Succeeding moments later, Harry pushed the wand with both his hands to get it to point at himself, and opened his mouth to speak the Silencing Charm--

The bathroom door banged open, and a slightly wet James, wearing only a bathrobe, stormed out, his wand before him and his eyes darting around the room. "Fateor Absconditus!" The very room rippled as James' powerful Revealer charm spread throughout the room, and Harry knew it would cancel most, if not all, Disillusionment charms. But James didn't even wait for the results, hissing out, "Accio Lily's wand!"

Harry cried out as the wand was torn away from him, and James seemed shocked as his hand unconsciously snagged the wand out of the air. "Harry?" James blinked for a stunned second, before turning around and speaking into the bathroom. "It was Harry, Lily." There was a touch of wonder in his voice. "He had your wand--he must have summoned it to him."

Lily finally appeared, peering around the door. "Harry?" She, too, only had bathrobes covering her, and she quickly walked to a slightly teary-eyed baby. That bloody hurt! "Are you all right? James, what did you do? Why is he crying?"

"He must have been holding onto it when I summoned it," said James as he quickly moved towards them, handing Lily her wand. "Torpeo Dolor," he said, tapping his son on the head. Harry immediately felt the spell work its way across his small body, and the cool soothing sensation took away the pain.

James shook his head with incredulity. "My son just performed Accidental Magic. And he's barely fifteen months old." When Lily raised an eyebrow at him, her arms gently rocking Harry, James quickly continued. "Lily, do you know how rare that is? Most children start to produce Accidental Magic around five or six, sometimes four, and rarely three! Harry's only fifteen months--and, he's a Metamorphmagus!"

Oh bother, thought Harry as he sighed mentally. I never should have tried to summon the wand--or change my eyes so publicly. How did his parents know about the wand? Mum must have charms on her wand that tells her when its been tampered with, Harry realized.That was why the wand had resisted his summoning spell. Useful.

Suddenly a yawn stole away from him, and his parents immediately put him back into his crib. "Sweet dreams, dearest," said Lily, as she gave him a soft kiss on his forehead.

"And no more Accidental Magic tonight, okay son?" said James, though his eyes danced with pride, and his smile was that of a thrilled father.

When both of them returned to the bathroom--this time Lily firmly carrying her wand with her--Harry really did sigh, fighting to keep his eyes open. What am I going to do now? I can't cast silencing charms.

Another yawn escaped his control, and Harry gave up trying to keep himself from sleep. His body just wasn't capable of resisting it, and his mind was still not fully recovered from that long day of fighting at Hogwarts, not to mention the time travel and Wormtail's capture.

One night of nightmares won't make them suspicious, Harry decided slowly, and besides, why would they be suspicious at all? Why would anyone? In fact, he doubted any one would get suspicious if he had nightmares for weeks. His situation was so far-fetched that if someone had told him they were from the future even just yesterday, he would have laughed at them. And he didn't plan on telling anyone, Well, maybe not weeks of nightmares, but certainly it won't be too suspicious for a few nights of dream-terror. He would try again later for the wand. Perhaps his father's wand wouldn't have any charms on it.

Then a final thought entered his mind before he slipped into his dreams, and with that thought came deep satisfaction.

My parents are alive; everyone is alive.

And they will stay alive.

Minerva had never imagined that she would feel pity for the man before her, but to her utter surprise, it was there. As she peered down at the defeated Death Eater, former-Order member, betrayer of friends, she felt a deep, sad pity.

"What is your name?" Albus was behind the restored Headmaster's desk--and for two years, my own, thought Minerva with a hidden smile--and his blue eyes stared intently down at Peter Pettigrew, who was tied and bound to the chair before him; and drugged with three drops of Veritaserum.

To the right sat Severus, who was, even at his young age, trusted most deeply by Albus--for what reason, Minerva knew exactly--and to the left was where she sat, in a position where she could face all three, Albus and Snape and the rat, without the need to turn her head in an obvious manner.

"Peter Pettigrew," moaned the prisoner.

Once again Minerva felt a flash of unwanted pity for the man, and hastened to wipe it away. Death Eaters deserved no pity, and more so for Pettigrew. You betrayed James and Lily, you betrayed Harry; you helped bring the resurrection of the Dark Lord, and you killed Hermione.

She recalled James' voice as he uttered coldly, You deserve no mercy, and she agreed completely.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

She saw Albus close his eyes for a moment, and knew that he would feel it deep within him, for it was now irrefutable that Pettigrew was a Death Eater and had betrayed the Headmaster, and the Order.

But Minerva raised an eyebrow when his eyes suddenly snapped open, and piercing blue focused intently onto Peter's dark brown eyes. Legilimency, she thought immediately, and it was confirmed moments later when the intensity within the man's eyes died. What did he find within Pettigrew's head?

"Why?" said Albus, and Minerva felt disgust. It's a game to you, it's all a dance of intricate threads. You already know why, you struck his mind with your Reading. And yet you proceed to hide this fact by asking redundant questions.

"I have always been looked down upon. I have always been ignored. I have always been underestimated." Pettigrew's face looked hideous, with dried blood and a healed half-eaten nose--most fortunately the nose could not be restored, which Madam Pomfrey seemed to have had a strange joy in announcing--and his eyes were darting away from Albus' hard stare. But to Minerva's surprise, he suddenly sat up straight glaring at them all, before the next moment quailing.

Very odd behavior, Minerva studied him, has his mind been touched with madness? Perhaps the Bat-Bogey torture snapped his mind? Then she nearly laughed aloud. What Death Eater has not insanity upon him? Only the insane could join Voldemort!

"When did you join Lord Voldemort?"

"I received my mark nearly a year ago," came the snarl from Pettigrew, "but my Master has known of me for nearly two."

"Have you revealed the Potter's Secret?"

"Yes."

And so it continued, Albus very carefully questioning the traitor, and Minerva could not believe the amount of information that had already been passed on to the Dark Lord. Indeed, she had never quite known the extent of Pettigrew's betrayal, but now that she knew, all of that pity she had felt for the man disappeared slowly, but surely.

And at the end, Albus asked his final question, "Is there anything you do not wish to inform us?"

At the reluctant affirmative from Pettigrew, the Headmaster then asked, "What is it?"

"I raped a muggleborn last month. She was young. I killed her mother," said Pettigrew with a strange calm. "I've given Voldemort a list of muggleborns that I copied from the Book of Records. I've had a crush on Lily since my Third Year. My blood tastes good. I have a hole in my shoe. My head feels funny. I can't--"

"Enough," Minerva silenced the rat before her. "Albus, the question is too broad."

"Indeed," he replied, looking intently at Pettigrew with a look that Minerva knew was severe disappointment. "Indeed. There seems to be nothing more to learn. Take him away, Severus. Tomorrow I shall inform the Ministry of him. They will, I am sure, be very willing to place him within the walls of Azkaban without the need for a trial--a trial which could reveal information we can hardly afford to allow out into the open."

"A moment, Albus," said Minerva, her thoughts racing forward. She knew that the moment Pettigrew was able to, he would transform into a rat to disappear--and she would have to prevent that from happening. "I have another question to ask." Now, how do I ask a question that refers to his ability, and yet is not blindingly obvious to everyone that I am searching for such an answer? Without waiting for permission, she asked a question, carefully wording it, "Do you have any way to contact the Dark Lord of your capture?"

"Yes," said Pettigrew eagerly.

Again, Minerva felt disturbed by his quick change of moods, but roughly pushed it aside. "And what would that be?"

"I can contact him through rats, and there are many in this castle."

And now to reveal his secret. "How is that?"

"I am a rat Animagus. I developed an affinity with rats over the past years."

"You, an Animagus?" spat Snape. "Impossible! You have hardly a brain enough for daily functions, let alone enough to become a transforming Animagus!"

And thus came out the story of the Marauders as they searched to help Remus once they'd found out about his curse, and about their journey into becoming full, competent Animagi.

"Well," said Severus after a moment, once the story was finished. "Tonight has certainly been informative." Minerva watched, amused, as the man shook his head roughly. "It is almost hard to believe. Potter and Black, both Animagi!"

Albus chuckled, but Minerva could detect a hint of a troubled, dark mood echoing within his voice. After another moment, the Headmaster spoke again with a heavy sigh. "Administer the antidote, Severus. There is nothing more to learn. Once we conclude our meeting, I would greatly appreciate it if you could perhaps find a dungeon deep below Hogwarts to place him for the time being--firmly bound, of course."

"I have just the place in mind," said Snape, as he roughly forced down a few drops of the antidote. With a wave of his wand, Pettigrew's head suddenly dropped forward, and his body relaxed.

"Now, Minerva," said Albus, turning to look at her, pinning her with his deep blue eyes. "I do have a question for you."

I wonder what this is about? Minerva raised a cool eyebrow, and nodded. "Ask."

"I am concerned, Minerva, as to your actions tonight." Albus reached for a Lemon Drop, and continued. "For example, why did you bring up the issue of disloyalty existing within the Order tonight? In fact, you hardly seemed surprise when Peter was unmasked." He was watching me, Minerva realized suddenly, and I never noticed.

She knew she would have to tread carefully. If I make a mistake here, all will be revealed--and we cannot afford that to happen. Already she could feel the subtle threads brushing against her skin, the almost indistinguishable scent of Albus' subtle Legilimency spread throughout the office, and knew her every word would need to be carefully spoken, so that her lies would go undetected. But I will succeed. I can do this. I must be able to do this. Thoughts racing to string together a convincing lie, Minerva spoke with an outward calm, "Do you recall, Albus, my earlier fainting spell before the meeting of the Order?"

The moment she spoke, the threads of Legilimency hanging in the air spun and tangled, seemingly catching every word and judging it for truth--while another few brushed ever so lightly against her mind.

But Minerva was ready for this.

Memories were created, threads of thought shifted, and false illusions were formed--a barrier of scattered thoughts that protected her mind.

"Yes, I do recall," said Albus, just as outwardly normal. Nobody, not even Minerva had she not been prepared, would have known that the Headmaster's mist-like magic was invading the privacy of her mind, drawing out thoughts, testing her words, and violating her free will by influencing her to be more open. Or at least, in this case, trying to.

"It was," said Minerva, pausing for a second, "it was almost as though I received a sort of vision." At Severus' raised eyebrow, she spoke quickly with distaste. "Not at all like Divination, which is, as I have always said and will always say, a very foolish and worthless branch of magic. Rather, it was like the sudden knowledge popped into my mind. Perhaps," she said in amusement, "fate decided to grant us all a favor by informing me."

Albus seemed to consider her words, while the invading threads within her mind searched for truth, and when he finally nodded and withdrew, she knew she had succeeded in fooling the Headmaster. "That is a very interesting phenomena, Minerva. And if indeed fate is on our side, then perhaps we may yet win this war."

"Well, at least you could have handled it better," snapped the spy. "Albus was only just able to calm them, and I could still see some doubt as to my loyalty when everyone left."

"Perhaps," said Minerva coolly. I will not apologize for what I did. Perhaps I should have handled it better--but under the circumstances, it was the best I could do. And she doubted that Severus, had he been in her position, would have done any better. Wordlessly casting a Tempus charm, she attempted to change the subject. "It is getting late, gentlemen. Maybe we could continue this rather interesting discussion some other time?"

"One moment, Minerva," said Albus, with the twinkling in his eyes. "I do know you enjoy your peace and rest, but I must ask that you wait for just a moment longer. Severus, I believe you had something to speak to us about?"

Severus nodded. "It is about the Potter boy."

Oh, dear, thought Minerva. She forced herself to remain steady. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"I have reason to believe that the boy is possessed."

"Possessed? Surely not!" Minerva allowed disbelief to creep into her voice. "What would give you such an idea?"

"I attempted to perform Legilimency on the boy--"

She felt a flash of anger, but soothed it away quickly. Another dance, another problem to mount. I feel, Harry, that we will have many such troubles in the future. She only hoped that they would be able to surpass them. "Legilimency, Severus? Was that really necessary? On a toddler?"

"Did you not find it strange that a fifteen-month old baby apparently understood our conversation and spoke words such as snake and bad at that exact moment?" Snape glared. "Yes, Minerva, I found Legilimency necessary."

Albus drew the conversation back towards him. "What did you find in the boy's mind? I assume that it is worthy of our interest?"

"Indeed, Headmaster, very worthy," Snape said slowly. "However, I was quite unable to attain any sort of Reading at all. The boy performed Occlumency against me."

Minerva fought against the temptation to close her eyes, and instead raised her brow in question. "Occlumency? Surely you are mistaken, Severus. He is, as you have said, but fifteen months old."

"And that is exactly why I believe he is possessed. No child, let alone a baby, could have mastered the technique. And I felt him actively reject my attack."

"Perhaps he is a natural Occlumens? There have been several reported occasions in recent history," said Albus.

Snape shook his head. "Even if he was natural, his ability would not have developed so far. I am telling you, he rejected me from his mind." The spy leaned back in his chair. "I will, however, grant that the boy is nowhere near skilled. The very fact that I felt his Occlumency shields speaks of a lack of proficiency. And that, Albus, Minerva, is why I feel the boy is possessed."

"But possessed?" asked Minerva again.

"Perhaps," cut in Albus, "there is another explanation--a far simpler one. Already we have seen tonight how extraordinary young Mr. Potter is. Indeed, after tonight's performance, I believe we can safely say that Harry is not at all normal, for he is a Metamorphmagus--with enough skill to perfect his eyesight--and is advanced with his mental skills. Thus assuming that he is not possessed, can we not conclude that perhaps, as a natural Occlumens, his skill would be as advanced as his Metamorphmagus and mental skills seem to indicate? And if his abilities have already been developed, could he not have prevented your mental reading, Severus?"

Reluctantly Severus nodded, not fully convinced, but Minerva sighed inwardly with relief. Crisis averted.

But when Albus spoke again, Minerva knew she would have to speak to Harry as soon as possible. "However, I agree that it is indeed strange, and I will be watching young Harry very closely. But as for this moment, it is quite late. I know the both of you must be desperate to return your quarters. And so I shall bid the both of you good night." And with a wave from him, the office doors swung open.

Severus nodded to the both of them, and wordlessly levitated Pettigrew and left, Minerva not far behind him. That went better, and worse, than I expected. It was already nearing three in the morning.

As Minerva walked down the passageways to her rooms with a whirlwind of thoughts passing through her mind, one thought remained above all else.

It's good to be back.

Harry dreamed.

He stood once again before Lord Voldemort. His left hand was a bloody mess, and his hand clutched painfully onto his wand. Ron was bleeding heavily beside him, and unconscious.

"You have behaved foolishly, Potter," said the Lord of Dark. "Did you really believe that you would be able to find my Horcruxes without my noticing?"

Ron moaned. Harry gripped his wand tighter, fully aware of the bulge in his pocket--which was the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, in fact. "Well, it took you long enough--"

Crucio. The Dark Lord flicked his wand, and Harry screamed.

Suddenly hands grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. "Harry, run! We'll hold them back!" Hermione yelled, her wand moving swiftly as Death Eaters poured into the Ministry, while her other hand roughly pushing Harry. "GO!"

Harry looked around, and saw no Voldemort. "RUN!" screamed Ginny, as the Death Eaters morphed and turned into Dementors. He took a step back--

Suddenly he was falling, and helplessness washed over as he saw the black waters far below him rise up to meet his descent.

"HARRY!" Hagrid roared in the distance.

From the black waters below sprang up hundreds and hundreds of hands, pale and silvery hands that reached up for Harry. As he drew closer and closer, he found that the waters were filled with thousands of dead bodies--and it was the deep red blood that had diffused in the sea of bodies that made it look black.

One face drew his attention, and it was more visible than the others. It was bruised and beaten black, one of its eyes were milky white, and the other filled red with blood. Its face was disfigured greatly, but Harry still knew the instant he saw her face.

Luna.

Harry screamed.

Jerking awake, Harry found himself trapped--he couldn't move. He began to thrash, desperate to be free, and felt the suffocating weight of something holding him tight.

"Shh, Harry," whispered a worried voice. "It's all right. Mummy's here. Shh."

Harry froze.

"Don't cry, sweet heart," continued that soothing voice, softly to Harry's whimpering. "It was only a nightmare, dear, only a nightmare."

Memories rushed forward, and Harry quickly ceased his involuntary whimpers, and felt himself being rocked gently by his mother.

My mother. She's alive and holding me. It wasn't just a dream after all.

"My poor baby," she said, with hidden tears in her eyes. "Were you dreaming of mean little Peter? He did give you such a fright last night."

"Lily?" asked James, and Harry heard him move slowly over from the bed.

"He's shaking, James," she told him, and Harry heard an echo of anger in her voice. "He's pale and shaking. He must have been dreaming about Peter." She's angry at Peter because she thinks he caused my nightmare, Harry realized, and for some reason he an odd warming sensation within his stomach. "I'm taking him to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey should have something to take away the nightmares."

"Wait a moment," said James. "I'll come with you." He pulled out his wand, and with weary movements transfigured his clothes into a respectable robe, and with a wave with the same for Lily.

"Thanks," she said, taking out her own wand to summon their cloaks, and altogether they left the rooms, heading for the Hospital Wing.

As they passed through the hallways, Harry noticed the cleanliness and feeling of magic thrum within the walls, and was glad to see Hogwarts as she once was. The portraits were still moving, the stairways still swung about, and the torches lit one by one as his parents walked, illuminating the way--the torches behind them snuffing out as they went passed.

Suddenly James stopped them, and Harry looked around. His father snapped his wand out and several balls of light shot out ahead of them.

"What is it?" asked Lily, as she pulled out her own wand with one hand, the other holding Harry.

James frowned. "I thought I heard something--"

There were the sound of footsteps from around the corner of the passage way, and his parents sprang into action. Lily doused the torches with a wave of her wand at the same moment James drew them both to the side. The footsteps got louder and louder, and the torches just around the corner lit as a figure began to turn the corner.

It was Minerva.

Harry watched as she suddenly paused, and with a quickness born from battle, her wand flicked and all the torches along the hallway burst to life--before James or Lily could react. I'm glad to see Minerva hasn't lost her touch, coming back in time. She was in the middle of another spell, but stopped when she saw them. "James? Lily? What are you doing out so late?" Minerva shook her head slowly. "So early, I should say." She was puzzled, and Harry could hear it in her voice.

"Professor!" exclaimed James. "You gave us a fright!"

"If you are so easily frightened, then perhaps you shouldn't wander around the hallways so late, and with all the torches doused," she replied.

"We're sorry, professor," said Lily quickly. "Harry, here, had a nightmare and we were just walking to the infirmary. I doused the flames because James heard something, but it was only your footsteps."

Harry saw Minerva look at him when Lily spoke of his nightmares, he blinked in answer to her silent question. Yes, the same ones I always have.

"I'll go with you, Lily, if you don't mind," said the professor after a moment. "I was going to go down there anyway, to get something for this headache I seem to have." You and I need to talk, Harry, he easily translated her hidden meaning.

"Of course," said James. "We don't mind at all."

It took only a short while to finally reach the infirmary, and only a moment to wake Madam Pomfrey, who slept within the Hospital Wing. "What seems to be the problem, Lily dear?"

"It's Harry. He had a terrible nightmare, and woke up all pale and shaken. I was wondering if you had anything you could give him."

The nurse muttered a few spells, waved her wand over him a few times, then shook her head wearily. "You know perfectly well that Dreamless Sleep is dangerous for children under two. There may be a few spells that might be helpful, but I suggest you simply do nothing. One night of nightmares won't damage him, and I'm sure it'll pass quickly."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, dear, I am sure. However, I would like to keep him in here for the rest of the night, and monitor him."

"I'll stay with him, then--"

"You most certainly will not, Lily. You will need to get some sleep, which you'd hardly be able to do while sitting beside his crib. Remember, tomorrow is Halloween." She said this gravely, and Lily seemed to understand why. "I understand you are worried, Lily, but I will watch over him closely. And you, and James, must both be ready for tomorrow." Again there was that solemnity, and Harry inferred why. It's Halloween tomorrow, and they're expecting a battle.

Reluctantly nodding, Lily gave Harry a small kiss, before placing him in a crib that Madam Pomfrey brought out. "Sleep well, dearest. I'll pick you up in a few hours."

"Good night, Madam Pomfrey, and you too, professor," said Lily. After James bid them both farewell, the couple left, both looking tired.

There was a brief moment of silence, wherein the nurse tucked a small blanket around Harry, before she turned towards Minerva. "And what can I do for you?"

"A mild headache relieving potion," she replied. "And perhaps something for my nausea. I seem to be suffering the consequences of my fainting spell, now."

"Two potions, then," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'll just go to the Potions stores to get them." The nurse turned to leave, but even before the nurse was all the way out, Minerva already established a Silencing Ward and stepped up to Harry, turning to face the door that Pomfrey had just gone out of. This way she can easily see the nurse return, thought Harry.

"I have not much time, Harry," she spoke quickly, "and I have much to tell. Wormtail has already revealed the location to Lord Voldemort, and his rat Animagus form has been revealed. Severus has told Albus of your Occlumency shields, but the Headmaster is convinced you are a natural Occlumens. Of course, he did say that he would keep careful watch over you. Severus, however, is not convinced--we must watch him closely."

Harry growled, but was mortified to find that the growl coming from his baby-voice completely lost its effects, as it sounded more cute than dangerous, and stopped immediately. He glared at Minerva, who was hiding a smile, and she continued in a quick, but amused voice. "Harry, we must not get caught. It is imperative that our time traveling remains secre--"

Minerva cut off, and Harry saw from the corner of his eye as she cancelled the Silencing Ward, just in time, as the door swung open and the nurse entered. Minerva must have had Perimeter Wards cast as well, to alert her of the nurse' return. And he hadn't even caught her doing it. "Here, Minerva. Take these, and drink them. It will help with your headache and nausea."

So, Peter told Voldemort already. The Dark Lord may already be planning to attack at night, today. My parents will have to be in and out before then.

Distantly Harry heard Minerva thank the nurse and take the potions, but was unable to hear either of them as he felt the darkness of unconsciousness try to overwhelm him. My body is just too weak. I am too weak. And I'll be this weak for many years, still.

For the second time, before Harry fell asleep, came a final thought.

But that's okay. Everyone is still alive.

Peter Pettigrew thought he knew fear, he thought he knew what it felt like to be terrified. He found now that he had really had no clue.

Yes. You have no idea. But you will, my little rat. You will.

He attempted to shiver, but his body was not his to control.

You will do well, Wormtail, to remember this. You are not in control. You have never been in control.

It was nearly a year now since he had formally sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord, and ten months since his master had gifted him with an artifact of great power. Peter had accepted it with joy, believing that such a gift meant he was garnering much favor, which was always a good thing. He wore it always, he took it everywhere with him. He had carefully taken to disillusion it, and thus no one had noticed it--but within his heart he had been proud. His master favored him enough to entrust him with a powerful artifact. And though he knew not what it was--at least, originally he had not--he still wore it with pride.

It would keep the Headmaster's Legilimency from reading his mind, Peter had later been told. It would prevent a Legilimens from discovering his betrayal, he was also told. And foolishly he had believed that the artifact would only protect his mind--and did not think to wonder about any of the other functions it may have had. And so he wore it. He wore it gladly.

Until he learned of what it fully was.

But it was already too late by then.

Yes, too late for you, Wormtail. Much too late. But you have served well.

The artifact hadn't been given to him because his master trusted him, or favored him--or to protect his mind against intrusion. He had been given it because of the exact opposite. He was mistrusted, believed weak, and utterly useless to the Dark Lord--unless he could be controlled completely.

Yes, Wormtail, you are worthless. You are weak and pathetic. Nothing but a worm with a tail. But you have become useful through my possession, and for that, Lord Voldemort is pleased. However, your discovery shall displease him most greatly. You should have woken me when the first accusation was made. You were a fool not to have done so. I will ensure that the Dark Lord is aware of this.

Peter watched as his body moved outside of his control, cloaked among Dark spells of concealment, as he stealthily made his way out from the castle. Behind him floated Severus Snape, the betrayer of the Dark Lord, who had been easily over-powered and bound before he could raise an alert.

It had been a close call with the sudden appearance of the Potter family, but McGonagall's arrival had covered their disturbance. Peter had been deathly terrified for a moment there, when he thought he would be caught. By James, no less.

Perhaps you were frightened, fool, but those two children would never have heard us if you had not tried to take control of your body from me, again. I shall have to ask Lord Voldemort to punish you for that idiocy, as it seems my own lessons do not suffice.

Peter whimpered piteously within his mind, but kept his silence. He knew, already, the mental anguish he would undergo if he spoke without permission again.

I see you can be trained. That is good. I must say, I was very disappointed that you fought against my control during the interrogation. But perhaps the punishment I gave you will teach you a lesson.

Peter realized with a start that they were outside the castle already, and was fast approaching the outer perimeter of the defense wards of Hogwarts.

Indeed. It is time to rejoin our Lord, and he will be pleased--though your discovery shall anger him a bit, I expect. Your hideous appearance will no doubt be questioned--and how embarrassing will it be for you, to have been marred so by a simple Bat-Bogey Hex?

Resigned, Peter felt his hand move his wand outside of his control, and his magic Apparate him away.

And around his neck was the locket that controlled his body, a great and powerful artifact with the engravings of a snake, tinted green and silver. Around his neck was the locket, the leash that tied him so effectively to his master.

Peter's mouth opened on its own and from it came out a high-pitched laughter.