Harry shifted in his seat, eyeing Dumbledore warily. "Did I do something wrong, Professor?"

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth, folding and refilling his fingers before grabbing a small bottle labeled "Pep Up" and pouring it into a glass. "You did nothing wrong, m'boy. However, I am very concerned with the growing unrest. And Voldemort's boldness in outright attacking you and your family."

"I don't think I was the target," Harry said before he could help himself.

"I believe you're right, Harry. Voldemort must have become aware of the magical protection staying with your family provided you. He must be trying to weaken you, planning an attack when you leave the safety of Hogwarts."

"I've been having visions," Harry said like he'd rehearsed. Voldemort planned to take this year to gather followers and gain strength, but Harry needed a good cover while he worked on undermining the Ministry. So he decided to make it look like Voldemort needed something from the Ministry while Harry himself gathered followers. "I see into his head for a moment. He's planning something somewhere in the Ministry. I don't know what or where though, not yet anyway."

"Visions, you say?" Dumbledore pursed his lips, taking a sip of his potion.

"Yes. It's like I'm seeing through his eyes. I saw him torture someone and... it was awful."

"I want you to come to me with the visions you have, Harry. Or any member of the Order, like we discussed. The Order has also decided that over the summer break, different members will take turns housing you, one month at a time unless Voldemort catches onto your location."

"That won't be necessary."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm staying with someone. It's safe and his family has a lot of security. A lot."

"And who would this might be?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"I can't say for now, for my own safety and his. He's not remotely on Voldemort's radar and if I tell anyone, that could make him a target."

"I assure you, Harry, I am very good at keeping secrets."

That's part of the problem, Harry thought, unable to stop himself from saying, "Even from me?"

"Harry, there are many things going on, especially with the Dark Lord back. I will reveal all you need to know in due time, but for now it is important I keep you safe."

So I can fulfill your plans for me, I don't think so. Harry stood, already moving to the door. "It isn't that I don't trust you," it definitely was, "but this time it isn't my secret to tell. Thank you for seeing me, Professor, but I have two feet on a potions essay to finish and I need to get an O on the OWLs if I want to be an Auror one day. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Harry."

Dumbledore didn't look happy but Harry didn't really care, fleeing the office as fast as he could. He didn't make it far before the familiar tapping of sensible heels clipped along the hallway branching out in front of him. Harry swallowed hard, turning around a second too late. "Hem, hem," Umbridge cleared her throat, smiling a putrid and foul smile, "where are you off to running through the halls this late, Mr. Potter?"

"I had a meeting with Dumbledore," Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

"One must not tell lies, Mr. Potter. I see you have quite the propensity for dishonesty, first you interrupt my class, a carefully paced class with no room for shenanigans, mind you, and now you lie about what you're doing after curfew. I shall not stand for it. Others may let it slide because of your name but I certainly won't. And as High Inquisitor I hereby give you detention starting immediately. You can follow me, young man."

Harry swallowed, not liking the evil glint in her eye that could have only rivaled Voldemort's bloodthirst.

Harry stepped back into the Gryffindor common room well after midnight, hand dripping with blood. He tried spelling it to heal or at least numb the pain, but it seemed entirely immune to magic. He recalled that night in the Owlery when Draco warned him about the Ministry getting involved in education. He'd been right all along. He'd been right about...about Cedric too.

The thought hit him like a sack of bricks, knocking the wind out of him so fast he had to sit down by the fire. Cedric died in front of him. The part of him that shattered as he watched the light flicker from Cedric's eyes broke all over again. Draco knew. Draco knew and Harry didn't listen to him. Of course Draco had known! Lucius Malfoy must have been in on the whole thing! The Ministry had to be in on the whole thing...The Ministry practically begged for a moment to seize more power...Voldemort was just an excuse. Harry began to shake, pieces of his mind splitting away. Red blurred his vision and he growled low in his throat, fixating on the burning flames in the fireplace.

He could burn this entire place to the ground. The entire common room could go up in flames...He knew the spell. All he had to do was lift his wand...He could take down Umbridge in the same night, too. He quickly stood, pacing and muttering, thoughts twisting and multiplying into darker and darker ideas. His eyes glanced down at the words on the back of his hand. Cruel irony since the words were forced on his hand by a pathological liar.

Harry clenched his fists, squeezing his wand so tightly he could've snapped it right in half. The blur of visions of Cedric dying, his mom screaming, the Dark Mark flying in the air as Muggles were tossed around in the sky like hot potatoes swirled in his head until he collapsed on the ground. "NO!" He screamed loud enough to wake those in the dormitories. "ENOUGH!"

A spark flew from his wand, larger than the rest, exploding into white flames. Harry lay in a ring untouched by the heat and smoke, curling into a tight ball, tears ripping through his eyes just as flashbacks ripped through his thoughts. He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop anything or anyone. He couldn't save Cedric and here he was fraternizing with Voldemort and Dumbledore. All of them could have put a stop to it and none did. The Ministry could have dealt with the remaining death eaters and they didn't. That meant they all had to die. They all had to pay.

More flames erupted from Harry's very hands as the torturous thoughts made his eyes roll into the back of his head. Hermione stood at the stairs, trying to put out the flames only for them to reach higher and higher. Harry thrashed on the floor, the dark magic possessing him.

When he could finally think and feel again, the darkness consumed more than ever. His thoughts wouldn't stop racing. He lay on the floor, "Your fault, your fault, your fault," he muttered over and over and over, quivering.

The flames died as his energy fled. It felt as if a truck ran him over and he sniffed, wanting to wipe his snotty nose but unable to move a hand. The Gryffindor common room lay in ruins, furniture burned away and paintings all abandoned, though the screams of those in the paintings could still be heard.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, running after him falling to her knees by his side.

He didn't stop chanting. "Your fault, your fault, your fault."

"What's your fault? Harry, you didn't do anything."

His eyes finally refocused, zooming in on Hermione's tangled hair and red face. Sweat dripped from both their brows as Harry shook and said with a weak, raw voice. "Not mine."