Facing the Past

Chapter Three: Visions

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It was the first class of the year. I had been up for hours before I'd even gotten out of bed to get dressed, which, I suppose, isn't surprising considering the amount and frequency of sleep I got during the summer. When I finally heard Ron stirring in the bed next to mine I knew it was time to get up. For the next three years that would be how I knew when to get out of bed. I didn't get much sleep my last few years at Hogwarts, and that's not to shun Hogwarts. They most defiantly had the most comfortable beds that I had ever slept in. I just couldn't sleep anymore. The visions and memories came too often, the pattern of sleeping for less then 6 hours, never more then two straight, became ingrained in my mind.

As I was saying, it was the first day of classes. I got up and dressed in silence with the rest of the boys who shared my dorm. None of them were morning people. I didn't mind it gave me time to think about the visions I'd had the night before. It gave me time to think of what I needed to tell Albus, and what would be of no help. It became a routine, every Wednesday night at eleven I would sneak out of the dorm and go to meet Albus, always, it seemed, there were no teachers along my route. No Filch or Mrs. Norris, and to this day I am unsure as to whether it was planned by Albus, or simply coincidence.

Once Ron and I were dressed we trooped down to meet Hermione in the common room. It was during the summer that she had finally hit true puberty. I remember because that was the year that Ron went girl crazy, especially for Hermione. Hermione cut her hair and had taken to using Muggle gel, which she bought by the case at a warehouse store and brought with her to Hogwarts. Her chest was also much larger and the shirts she had bought for the start of school much lower cut. When she wasn't wearing her robes, you could see that she had curves in all the right places. I may be Sev's lover now, but then, I was interested in only girls, at least that's what I told myself.

We sat at the table in the great hall. During my meal of fruit and pumpkin juice, the Prefects, that would be Hermione and Dean, passed around the timetables. Before I even had a chance to open mine, Ron groaned. Looking at the timetable I discovered that we had Potions first, double with Slytherin. I agreed with Ron. Snape AND Slytherin at the same time, first thing every Monday morning, did NOT sound like a pleasant way to start the week.

Eventually we couldn't put it off anymore, we had to go to class. We walked slowly to the dungeon classroom and when Ron and I tried to take a seat in the back Hermione forced us to sit closer to the front. Most of the time she did things like that, always forcing us to the front. This was the one class that she ever allowed us to sit in the back in. But, that day, for some reason, she wouldn't let us sit there.

This class was different from the usual ones. Snape seemed, less there, as if his mind were anywhere but on the class he was teaching. Always, when we would start a potion, Snape was more in tune, more there, than other times. Yet, at this particular class was the one and only time I ever saw him make a mistake. At the time, it was strange, and now that I know him so well, it's amazing.

As usual the class started with a synopsis of what we were supposed to have read over the summer. Followed by an introduction to the potion. Twenty minutes after the bell for class to begin had rung, we started the potion.

Snape worked while we did, creating his own potion. It was the same one, he always worked the same potion that we were while we did. Generally he was much faster then the class so that he could walk around and take points off. This was a simple potion, especially when compared to the potions that Snape has been known to make.

The class was silent and all of us were working on our own potions. Suddenly there was a huge bang at the front of the room. Every pair of eyes in the room looked up and saw that an explosion had blackened our Professor. His cauldron was no more and there was only a small puddle of green liquid where have been a stone desk. Snape looked furious, but whether that anger was directed toward, us for staring, himself for screwing up, or whatever was distracting him so much that he messed up, I don't know. No matter what the reason, we paid. We were yelled out of the classroom and both houses lost points for any excuse Snape could come up with. By the time every last person was out of the classroom and the door was locked shut, Gryffindor was in the negatives and Slytherin was in the single digits.

That was the one and only time that I have ever seen Sev mess up a potion. He was livid for a week, and everyone hurt for it. All of the houses lost hundreds of points, but that was mostly made over by the teachers who were more liberal with points that week.

I never did learn what upset Sev so much, but he was. I did, however, learn why Hermione wanted to sit in the front that day. She said that she saw Snape at breakfast and that he looked lost, she wanted to keep an eye on him. Apparently he had added an ingredient not on the list to his potion and that's why it blew up. All of the ingredients listed for that particular potion couldn't make the potion explode no matter how badly it was botched. I don't really care for the technical explanation of this, all I know is that I don't ever want to see Sev that upset again. It's hell.

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Harry blotted his papers dry and put them in the folder that went in his pocket, as the bell for class to begin rang. Small students began to filter into the room and Harry glanced at his schedule to see whom he was teaching: first year Gryffindors. "Damn," Harry swore silently. "There isn't a worse way to start the morning, except, maybe first year Slytherins. They're all cocky and strut around like they have sticks up their arses." As the students settled into their seats Harry leaned back against his desk and watched, arms crossed over his chest.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name, as most of you know, is Professor Andrews. The United Nations of the Wizarding World consider me one of the top three masters of the Dark Arts. They rely on me and my colleagues as guides to unusual magics, particularly the Dark ones. I know my trade well, and have the scars and experience to prove it. I can teach you how to speed up time to your particular needs. How to create a werewolf from a harmless wolf. How to kill every living soul with in ten miles with out performing a single illegal curse, but all of that comes with a price. No magic in the world doesn't have a price. The ones that are taught in this school have minimal costs. The most expensive ones can cost you your soul in exchange for a few hours of ultimate power, which will leave you with nothing when your time is up.

"I've been teaching here for only three years, but I know my way around here better then most of you will by the time you graduate. I know the people. I know the grounds, and most of all, I know the Castle. I highly suggest you stay on my good side, I've heard that my bad side is even uglier then this." That said Harry turned and walked to the black board hanging on the wall. "I expect that you come into my classroom silently and await instructions. If, for any reason, I am not in my classroom by the time the bell rings, you will sit in your seats and remain there until I or another teacher come to the room. I will know," Harry pointed to a small gargoyle above the entrance to the room "if you move from your seat."

Harry lifted a holder with chalk in it. He had always hated chalk, and had spent several weeks, after he first became a teacher, coming up with a way that he would never have to touch the nasty stuff again. This was the result: a small wooden pen with a hole in the tip that he could insert chalk in magically and hold to write. Of course, he could always just use magic to write what he needed, but that got to be rather annoying sometimes and it just wasn't worth the effort required.

"We will start from the beginning in this class. You, I assume, know little or nothing about the Dark Arts or any other magics that are not your own." Harry wrote as he spoke to the class. "You may wish to take notes. Today is the only day that I will outline what you will learn in all seven years.

"In your first through fifth year, you will study magics that you can do yourself, being a normal witch or wizard with normal skills and not having mutated your body, soul or magics in any way. These are considered to be the lower level Dark Arts. In studying and finding understandings of these magics you will know how and if you can protect yourself against them. Some magics are impossible to protect yourself from.

"First year is devoted entirely to countering low to medium class charms, hexes, curses, and spells that are designed to harm you physically, mentally, or both. Some of these spells you will learn to cast yourself, others I will cast on you. All of them you will be able to block, deflect, move away from, turn back to the caster, or dissolve, by the time you leave this class room. If you cannot protect yourself from even ONE of the spells it will be impossible for you to pass my class.

"Second year is very much like the first. You learn to do all of that, only with higher-class spells. They're more complicated and much more powerful.

"Third year focuses on spells that the ministry considers illegal. By this year you will know many of the techniques that the Arours use when they're working. I have special permission from the LON to use any spells that I know at any time. (For those of you who are not up to date on your politics, the LON is the League of Nations. It was created by American President Woodrow Wilson in the 1920s and when Great Britain joined the LON wizards joined as well. The LON, in theory, prevents war between nations. It obviously failed in the 1940s, but since then has done a fairly good job. Either way, my permission comes from the LON) Back to my lessons. If I felt it appropriate right now, I could cast Avada Kavada on you with out any worries about ever going to Azkaban or receiving the Dementors Kiss. I have permission to cast any spell I know at any time that I feel the need to. Generally I choose not to cast those spells, but I have been known to use them to save my life. Life is a precious thing, and it is human instinct to do all they can to save their own lives. When a human loses that instinct you know something is seriously wrong.

"Fourth year. You know how to counter spells now, but what about physical attacks? The smartest wizards know how to use all their resources wisely. You learn tactics this year, how to place your troops to your advantage. How to properly use your people where. Tactics. If you don't know chess now, I suggest you learn it before your fourth year. It's an important game that can teach you more then you realize, if you care to look. You may be up against muggles, and even a wizard can be defeated by muggles. They are usually harmless, but if they get it into their heads, they can destroy you. You must understand them, and their ways. It could be vital to your continued existence.

"Fifth year is your last year for the human arts. No more fluffy fun stuff. This year I prepare you for the OWLs. They're hard, and I make them that way. I will select the top six students of the year to take my advanced OWLs. This year is spent entirely on YOU preparing for the OWLs in all classes. The Dark Arts are not confined to spells, but they're open to any number of other things. You will learn how to combine everything you've learned so far. Take notes, and keep them. They'll help you pass my class.

"Sixth year brings us out of the human lessons. Now you learn about the animals. Sure Charlie will teach you about magical creatures, but he can't very well bring a werewolf to the school, can he? I can, and will. They're not as bad as they're made out to be, most of them don't want to hurt people, but it is sometimes, in their natures. I cannot change one's nature. Werewolves are only dangerous during the full moon. In this year you will learn ways to repel, create, and destroy Dark Magical creatures: everything from Dementors to Vampires. Hinkypunks to grindylows. Although they are easy enough to defeat, you have to learn their weaknesses and how to exploit them. This is the year that you'll learn them because it is the only time I have to fit them in. In less then three months we will go through the entire course I took in my third year on this subject, and you will know the topics better then I did at the time.

"You've made it this far, now we're into seventh year. NEWTs this year. It'll be hard, I promise. We're going to move out of the animals and humans range, into other creatures. Giants, Elves, dwarves and any number of other nonhuman, but intelligent creatures will be studied. You will learn a bit about all of their magics, but obviously not how to perform them, for most of you can't. You will learn how to protect yourselves against them. This is also the year that you will study the dead. Nothing can be brought back to life, but things can be given the semblance of life. Dead creatures are the most dangerous creatures of all. They are the hardest to defeat for they crave Life and the Living more then anything. You can't even cast a killing spell on them, for they are already dead. You will, however, learn how to keep them away. If you're clever enough, you'll even learn how to defeat them."

As Harry spoke the last words he finished writing the outline of his classes on the board. "Are there any questions?" Harry looked around at the students who were shocked, but diligently copying. No one asked any questions so he continued. "As I said before, this is the one and only time that I will go over what I intend on teaching. This is just short, nothing in-depth. But, if you do as I advise and create a notebook for of your notes, this could make a nice table of contents.

"I don't know what rumors you've heard about me. Some think that I'm the greatest teacher they've ever had. Others think I give too much homework, or not enough. Some hate my guts and think that I'm the last person that should be teaching at Hogwarts. You must make your own decisions about me and what I teach. After the fifth year this class is optional. I will let you know that at the moment there is not a single student in this school who is not taking my class. Decide what you will and in the meantime, you are dismissed." As Harry said dismissed, the bell that signaled the end of class rang and the students hastily finished copying and putting all of their books away before filing out of the classroom. Just before the first student left the room Harry called out "Be on time tomorrow, if you're not you will be left out of class and be unable to rejoin. We start on with me cursing each and everyone of you." The students were startled and left the room wondering exactly what to make of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Perfect," Harry thought, "they're scared and they don't know what to expect. I love it." Harry settled back at his desk and took out the papers to begin writing while the bell rang to start his next class.

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That night I went to bed when Ron did, not expecting to sleep much, but as it turns out I didn't sleep at all. First Ron wanted to talk about girls in general. Slowly he made brought the topic around to how hot Hermione had become. It seemed that she and Ron had kept in very close contact over the summer, through letters and the floo network. Yet none of us had actually seen each all summer long. We didn't even get our supplies together. Hermione got hers before she left for vacation, Ron on the day that we usually all met, and I had ordered mine by catalogue then had them delivered to Hogwarts.

I drifted off when Ron did; only I didn't actually sleep. I dreamt. Whenever I had dreams I never felt like I had actually slept. It felt like I had been standing there, at Voldemort's side. I could feel the magic that was used. Hear the screams. See every face, hear every sound, smell every thing. I never forgot a detail from those dreams. It was like a muggle video camera. I learned that none of the details were wrong either. Human memory can change the color of a car, or a number on a license plate, but these dreams were embedded in my mind. They were never wrong. I was there with Voldemort. I was at his elbow and I was powerless to stop him.

Nearly every night I saw, felt, and smelled the man I hated more than I loved life itself. There was nothing I could. I couldn't touch him or any one else. I was like a ghost, or what some would call an angel. But, if I was an angel, Voldemort was the devil and I was on the brink of falling into a burning hell of magic. I wanted to kill, and what's more, I wouldn't have had a single misgiving about it. I wasn't the pure, innocent boy that everyone thought I was. I wanted to kill. I wanted to feel Voldemort's blood run though my fingers. I wanted to hear his scream, his plea for me to stop. I wanted to speak a magic so powerful that it striped my vocal cords dry and left me with out a voice. I wanted to see the man that had killed my parents dead, and I wanted to be the one who did it. It was times when I felt that way that I most sharply remembered that the Sorting Hat had suggested I be in Slytherin.

That night, the night after our first day back, I had the worst vision I'd ever had, or ever would have. The minute my eyes closed and my mind relaxed into sleep I was wake again, only not physically. I was standing at Voldemort's side, in what appeared to be a muggle house. Around me were death eaters.

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Harry was forced to put his pen down as his next class began to wander in. He smiled, this was the class he enjoyed teaching most, fifth year Gryffindor Slytherin combined class. While waiting for the bell to ring Harry leaned on the front of his desk. He spoke to a few of the students, some of whom he was giving private tutoring. There were several adept students in this class, two in particular he might even recommend to those who had taught him the Dark Arts. The second the bell rang Harry began to bark orders. "Pens, paper, maps of England with magical sites marked, floating colored stones, and wand, all off them on your desk. First, though, I want you to move your desks into a circle in the center of the room." In less then two minutes the class was exactly where he wanted it. "Perfect." Harry stood in the place that was automatically left open for him. After removing his own wand from his holster he created a huge 3-D map in the center of the circle. "You have studied tactics. You know their dynamics inside and out, now it is your turn to apply what you know. You have 5 minutes to work individual placing the people, animals, and creatures on the list on your map." He passed a stack of parchment to the person on his left who took one and passed it on. "The opponent and their positions are on the large map, you may use green and blue stones to mark where they are on your maps. When the five minutes are up you will get into small groups of 4, your usual groups, and figure out, collectively, where to best put them. Each group will then present, in less then 2 minutes exactly what your plans are. As a group we will analyze your decisions and make corrections. When everyone has gotten a chance to present we will figure out the best plan as a group." Harry clapped once and the class quickly, and most of them excitedly, got to work.

Harry set a small timer on his desk and sat down to write while everyone else worked

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At first I couldn't focus on anything around the room, just the death eaters. Slowly the background came into focus, we were in a Muggle house. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it exactly. As I watched death eaters dragged the family down the stairs into the large living room, which had been cleared. The Mother and Father came first; each had two death eaters escorting them. The oldest son came second, it looked to me like he was in the Muggle Army, but I could have been wrong about that. Then his girl friend, by what she was screaming and the fact that she was wrapped in only a sheet, walked by, screaming. A 13-year-old girl came next; she had freckles and a pair of glasses and was clutching a book to her chest. Sev came last, carrying a pair of baby twins and pushing a young boy in front of him.

The death eaters parted to let the family through. They were thrown into the middle. Sev thrust the babies at the parents, once the parents were sitting, trying to protect their family. Voldemort announced that since this was the last stop of the evening, it was time he let his loyal death eaters have their fun. Each group was allowed to choose a group and do anything they wanted with them, as long as by the time they left in a half an hour the family member was dead, except the twins.

I watched helplessly as every member of the family, was raped. The mother and father were forced to watch what has happening to their family. Spells were cast on their eyes so they couldn't blink, they couldn't look away, they couldn't do anything but scream and beg for them to stop. I was as helpless as they were, even if I tried to look away I couldn't. I always was forced to focus my attention where Voldemort was. He was particularly intent on watching this. He always looked happiest at times like that.

By the end of that evening, Voldemort was ecstatic. People had been gutted, skinned, tarred, hung, raped or forced to rape something or someone (the father was forced to rape his thirteen year old daughter), slowly killed, been castrated, or something else even more horrific. The girl friend had been killed when a knife was shoved up between her legs and she was cut from the inside out. Her scream was blood curdling, and I can still hear it today. She was tied by the wrists from a beam in the ceiling and left to hang like that, bleeding to death and in pain, her boyfriend and his family dead or being killed around her.

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Harry was slightly pale and sweating when the timer went off and he put his pen down. He gave the class a few extra minutes while he collected himself. The scream was still ringing in his ears by the time he rose and walked forward to watch the class present their information. He was glad that his class understood exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. They understood each other well, Harry and his fifth year students. Each and every one of Harry's students aimed to please him, even if he was a bit stingy with the house points.

The rest of the classes until lunch went smoothly. The seventh years were particularly easy, not a single uncompleted homework assignment. The discussion went well and lasted easily throughout the period. When lunchtime came around, Harry was found at his desk writing again. Now that the process had begun, it was far easier to let all of his old memories go. Lunch found Harry sitting at his desk in his classroom, writing.

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All of the visions before then had been horrendous, but this was by far the worst one I'd ever had. I prayed to every god I had ever heard of never to let me See anything like that again, alas, my prayers would not be answered. I had thousands of these dreams during Voldemort's second reign of terror. He committed so many heinous acts, had such inhuman physical features, thought like such an animal, that it is impossible to think of him as anything but a monster. Every time he did anything that even indirectly hurt another person, I knew about it, I felt it, saw it, smelled it, lived it.

Every time I had a Vision, as I had begun to call them, it did nothing but remind me of how incompetent of a hero I was. I knew all of these things. I knew exactly where they were happening, but I was never able to stop a single one. I felt that in someway, everything that happened was my fault. It was as if I wasn't good enough to help the world. I had saved the world so many times, but now, I was helpless. I had all of this knowledge, but it was useless. Nothing could have been done to prevent the things from occurring, they were happening as I was seeing them.

As the year progressed, my Visions only got worse. That first Vision, it was just the beginning of a three-year battle with evil. I was a good guy, forced to suffer the fate of a bad one. I had all of the pangs of guilt that the dark side should have been feeling.

It was hard to work around the visions. When fifth year started I had perhaps one Vision per night. Every Wednesday night I would leave the dorm room at eleven and make my way to Dumbledore's office to give him my report. I kept all of the dreams in a journal. I kept the locked journal under my mattress. If the other boys had found out I kept a journal I have no doubts in my mind that I would have been ridiculed. I made sure that no one knew about my Visions. Before I went to sleep at night I would put locking charms on the curtains around my bed. I put silencing charms on myself, for I was always afraid that I would say something during the night and someone would hear me. Ron didn't know about the visions, none of my friends did. Hermione may have suspected, but she didn't know for sure. I worked around the visions. I didn't sleep much. I was always tired and I was still thin, but that couldn't be avoided. The Visions were a part of my life, but I was determined to not allow them to rule me.

I used the visions as inspiration to work harder. It was my personal goal to over come Voldemort, and the Visions fueled my burning passion to rid the world of what was so completely evil that there are no words to describe it. In my mind, Voldemort was synonymous to "Lucifer", "The Devil", "The Fallen Angel" etc. I felt the need to work harder in my classes. I read everything I could. I devoured more books that year then even Hermione. My grades increased ten-fold. I went from what muggles would name a "C" average student to nearly an "A" average student. I specifically studied the Dark Arts. I convinced our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to give me extra lessons. Every Monday night I would make my way to Mrs. Figg's classroom for lessons. Any book having anything to do with the Dark Arts I read. I memorized and studied, and wrote about and analyzed everything.

Of course, Dark Arts weren't the only thing that I studied thoroughly. I took up potions as well. That was the year that my relationship with Sev changed. He learned that I wasn't prissy hero boy who felt that he could coast through anything. Sev learned that I tried and was willing to work my scrawny little ass off. After realizing what I was willing to do, Sev started to help me. He helped me brew complex potions and lent me books to read about potions. His collection of Potions Books is amazing. We have our own personal library connected to our rooms in Hogwarts, and at the time, I learned later, Sev had already started that library.

I studied harder in other classes as well, but those were the two topics on which I concentrated my efforts. When I took my OWLs that year, I got beginning, intermediate and advanced in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The other classes I took beginning and intermediate in. I was proud of myself. It was proven, to both myself and others, that given the right motivation, I could do anything.

The Visions were an obstacle, but I had over come them. I had used them; instead of letting them use me. Life wasn't perfect, but I was getting through it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Slowly Harry set the quill down and rose from his chair with a groan. "Three chapters down, gods know how many more to go." Harry said to the blackboard. The bell had rung and already a few students were filtering into the class. By the time the second bell rang every desk in the room was occupied and Harry stood up to begin his class. "Here we go," he thought as he began the lecture.

"Pass up your homework." Harry collected papers from each student and stuck them in a pile on his desk. "Today we begin our unit on Vampires."

The class went quickly and well. As did all the rest of the classes that day. It was, all in all, a very smooth first day. No hectic scheduling mistakes for Hogwarts, everything was fairly simple to organize. When the final bell rang everyone, including Harry, trooped off to their rooms.

Harry walked straight through the main room of the suite and to the door on the right on the wall directly opposite the entrance. This was Harry's favorite room of the suite. Wall to wall bookshelves that were ceiling to floor packed with books. Most of the books in the room were either on potions or dark arts, the rest were on a couple of other subjects but they were not as extensive. Harry sat at the double desk in the middle of the room and set his file of papers on the desk.

Writing more tonight would have been too painful. He hadn't told anyone about those visions for years and he had done everything in his power to force down the memories. Now he was reliving them all in vivid detail.

Harry was still lost in thought when Sev came and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You've got a visitor, Nero."

"Who is it?"

"You'll have to see for yourself." Together Harry and Sev walked out of the library and to the main room. Upon seeing whom his visitors were Harry nearly fainted.