Chapter 22
━━━━━━━━ ✥ ━━━━━━━━

"WHY IS ROSIER GIVING YOU THE STINK EYE?"

Adhara smirked into her glass of milk. Usually, when Tonks sat at the Slytherin table to spend time with — aka annoy — her, Adhara briskly stood and left for her classes. Only, that made the woman follow her and yap behind her even with Adhara ignoring her the entire time.

Then, the next day, she would switch to Harry. But Harry wasn't capable of being as mean as Adhara, so the lad would engage. Though, he didn't look annoyed at Tonks' presence, probably because the auror was growing on him.

Adhara didn't really understand why the woman was so interested in forming a bond with her and Harry. It felt quite impulsive. Perhaps, it was because no one else on her mother's side of the family really cared about her — though Adhara was pretty sure Andromeda Tonks kept contact with Narcissa Malfoy — or because she still felt guilty for her initial reaction to Adhara. Either way, Adhara did not appreciate it at the beginning. And now...

Well, now Adhara supposed that she tolerated her presence. It wasn't as though she had much of a choice in the matter. Nymphadora Tonks was not leaving her alone.

Adhara set down her glass, handing Tonks her copy of the Quibbler.

Adhara focused on her breakfast as the auror scanned through the paper. She was also ignoring the glares that were being thrown her way from the teachers' table that morning. An easy thing to do when she simply couldn't care less.

Rosier wasn't popular amongst Adhara's peers, so the Quibbler could be found in almost every students' hands. The number of subscriptions had already gone up since Adhara started writing — apparently quite a few people liked the unfiltered criticism Adhara threw at the Ministry — so she wasn't surprised, by the number of sales. Rosier wasn't happy, and neither was the little gang of followers he had acquired, consisting mostly of purebloods and boys — Malfoy being one of them.

Idiots, the lot of them.

Millie wasn't at breakfast that morning, something to do with her apprenticeship with Pomfrey. And as much as Adhara would rather be with her other friends at the moment, Rosier was being weird about Inner-House unity. He was forcing everyone to solely sit at their House table. It was idiotic. Roisin and her friends were not happy.

Adhara heard Tonks snort.

"You've got a flair for dramatics, I'd give that to you."

"I'm not dramatic."

Tonks looked unimpressed. She pointed at a specific line in the article. "Apparently, our Minister favours backward-minded individuals. First an abusive tyrant, then a misogynist with a soft-spot for purebloods. Is Minister Fudge turning to the dark side? Is that why he denies You-Know-Who's return?"

"And?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You're proper brave, though, speaking up against the Ministry like that. And you got Harry to do an interview."

And it was a good idea, too. No matter how badly the Prophet wanted to slander Harry, the words of the Boy-Who-Lived still remained relevant.

"It was his idea, not mine. Harry's the brave one, not me."

"You can both be brave, you know?"

"I don't care about bravery."

"Yeah? Then what do you care about?"

It didn't sound mocking to Adhara's ears. Tonks sounds genuinely curious about Adhara's opinion.

"Survival. My own, and of those I care about."

Tonks smiled, and it looked so sincere that Adhara had a hard time looking at her directly. She averted her gaze, glancing at the teachers' table instead.

Rosier was still glaring at her.

━━━━

Ron decided to keep Harry company, enlarging Harry's bed to share it — because they weren't first years anymore, and their beds barely fit one of them. Even Harry was getting a growth spurt.

Harry had another nightmare. Not about Cedric, instead plagued with Voldemort's thoughts. Sometimes, it was about Harry not living up to his role as the Boy-Who-Lived, as the leader of the D.A., or even, not being able to live up to his father.

Tonight, though, it was another one of Voldemort's visions. Something about Rookwood, who's name had appeared in the Prophet along with the other Azkaban fugitives. Ron was the one who woke him up. He helped Harry soothe the pain in his scar — a constant pain that never really went away anymore, but he had gotten one of the house-elves to get Harry an ice pack, and that had helped. Then, Ron climbed into Harry's bed and quickly fell asleep.

He was laying with his back at Harry, leg dangling over the edge, softly snoring. Harry stared at his best friend's back, knowing fully that he couldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

━━━━

Harry didn't realise that there would be once a day when he would get sick at being compared to his father.

He thought back at his interactions with Sirius, and found that, at the beginning, Harry didn't mind it much. But now, it felt as though it was all he ever talked about.

Harry understood that all Sirius was trying to do was make his dad's absence more bearable, for him and for Harry. Harry didn't have any memories of his dad, and Sirius was only trying to fill them in.

Harry had wanted to know more about dad. He's the one who asked him to tell him about him.

But sometimes, when Sirius would get lost in recounting his stories, his eyes almost sparkled. And then, when he turned around, and saw Harry and realised that he wasn't James, that glint disappeared. Sirius would get all sad. His eyes would turn sad, his smile would turn sad, and Harry was sick of it.

He knew that he looked like James. He knew that he wasn't James, that he would never live up to him. He wished people would stop expecting him to be.

━━━━

"That last memory," said Snape. "What was it?"

Harry got up carefully, still dizzy from the whiplash of it all. He felt like throwing up. "I don't know," said Harry, "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"He did what?" exclaimed Sirius. "Your cousin?"

Harry ignored him, trying to fix his eyes on Snape's face.

"No," said his teacher softly. "I mean the one concerning a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..."

"It's nothing..."

Harry tried to avoid eye contact with Snape. He turned around, searching for his godfather, instead. One stumbling step towards him and the man was already beside him, helping him stand up straight.

"Haz?" Sirius steered him towards a chair. "Bucket?"

Harry shook his head. "Just a bit disoriented."

These lessons were messing with Harry's head more than they were helping. Not only were his memories being jumbled up, but so were his thoughts. One moment he would be panicking about Voldemort and his dreams, next he would only be able to see Cedric's vacant eyes, about how it was all his fault and had to prevent more Cedrics from happening, sometimes, it was Cho's voice, but that odd because they had made up already, why was he still stressed about that? Then, Sirius' voice filtered through his thoughts, reminding him about James and would get sick of thinking.

Harry stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to get away, but there was a heavy hand on his nape, preventing him.

"Haz," warned Sirius, almost like he had a sixth sense for Harry's dissociating habits, "you need to stay attached."

Snape was either ignorant of what was happening, or he didn't care. "How did that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?"

Harry inhaled sharply, trying to find his voice. "It — it was — just a dream I had." He didn't look directly at him.

"A dream," repeated Snape. He sounded angry. Harry risked a leak at the man which confirmed it. "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Then why don't you stop?" barked Sirius, stepping in front of Harry. "I've said before that I can take up the task."

"Then let me remind you, mutt, that you are no legilimen."

"Then I'll get one! I'll find one better than you and lay them for the lessons. I certainly have the gold for it!"

"You never learned the concept of a secret, did you Black?"

Sirius didn't reply right away. Harry had a feeling Snape's statement had a double meaning.

Snape smirked in triumph. He turned back to Harry. "Get up, Potter. Tell me, how many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," lied Harry. He wasn't sure why he was lying. Maybe it was second-nature to him now.

He walked back to his original place at the desk, right in front of Snape. Sirius remained where he was.

"Perhaps, you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special — important?"

"Snivellus, I'm fucking warning you..."

Snape sneered in response. "And what will you do? Try to kill me again?"

Harry whipped his head towards his godfather, who was glaring at Snape with his mouth pursed shut. Once again, the potionsmaster looked victorious.

Harry didn't know what he was insinuating. He wanted to assume they had a run in during the first war, but even he knew that couldn't be the case here. No, Snape was talking about something else.

The man returned his attention to Harry. He looked at Harry with something akin to glee. "Because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No, that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot at him, unable to hold back his tongue. Beside him, Sirius' scowl morphed into a smirk.

"Yes, Potter," said Snape, eyes fierce and glaring. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again."

He raised his wand, and didn't give Harry the time to overthink. Within seconds, Harry was surging through the sky on what felt like Buckbeak pumped on steroids. Dementors filled the sky, making Harry's breath hitch. He saw Snape amongst the creatures, he could hear his mother's voice, he could —

"Protego!"

The memories swirled, like water in a glass. The hooded dementors morphed into a man, then a teenager with black hair. Harry could hear a woman cry but it wasn't his mother anymore. The man has returned, and he was shouting and the boy was crying and the woman wasn't his —

"ENOUGH!"

Air rushed into his lungs, like he had surfaced out of water after an edge too long. Harry fell back into shelves, and he heard the sound of breaking glass. There was someone right next to him, talking, but Harry's ears had started ringing. His eyes were fixed on the white-faced man in front of him, who looked just as out of breath as he felt.

"I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm ... but there is no doubt that it was effective..."

Snape was speaking, but there was a hand in Harry's hair, so he turned to his godfather. Sirius' eyes crinkled in the corners as he looked at Harry with concern.

Harry could only guess how he looked: sweaty, panicky, feverish, he felt like he had almost drowned.

The boy had looked awfully like Snape. But it was difficult to associate the crying boy with the hateful potionsmaster. The man, too, but he was too old to be him, and Harry doubted he gained the gift of sight. That was Ron's problem to deal with, and Harry didn't want to touch with a ten feet pole.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

"Snape," interrupted Sirius. "Let's take a break—"

Harry didn't hear the rest. Snape hadn't even given Harry the time to empty his mind, he was already rushing through another surge of images, but this time it was not memories.

He saw the Department of Mysteries again, the stone back walls, the torches, that damn taunting door at the end of the corridor. Harry was running towards it, he was going to run straight into it, he —

The door flew open, and Harry excitedly ran through it. He saw a room, a circular room with too many doors, and they were all taunting him.

"POTTER!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He was on the ground again, which was ironic because he felt quite floaty. Hands helped him up once more.

"That is enough, Snape! I told you to —"

"Explain yourself!" said Snape, cutting Sirius off. He had rounded the desk, standing over Harry, looking furious.

"I ... dunno what happened," said Harry truthfully. He remembered the excitement he felt when he rushed through the door. It felt foreign, like it wasn't his feeling. Yet, somehow familiar. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door...but it's never opened before..."

"You are not working hard enough!"

Sirius pushed back the man. "I told you he needed a break! This wouldn't have happened if you listened!"

Or maybe if someone would just tell him what was going on—

"Stop shielding him!" snapped Snape. "He needs to be taught a lesson! He is lazy and sloppy, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord —"

"Can you tell me something, sir?" said Harry. He was getting fed up with Snape, he was getting fed up with it all! "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that!"

His voice wasn't quiet, not like Adhara's when he was angry. He didn't know how to be subtle, but that was exactly what worked for him.

Harry heard Sirius bark out a laugh. Snape was glaring at him, wand raised, and Harry found that he didn't care. He raised his wand too.

Sounds of a woman screaming came in. All three heads snapped towards the ceiling. Even Snape looked confused.

"Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?"

The boy shook his head. He turned to Sirius who shrugged. He was as confused as Harry.

More screaming followed. Snape muttered curses underneath his breath, and left his office. Sirius made to follow him, but Harry was grabbing his arm and stopping him already.

"Wait, no! We can't have Rosier see you!"

Furrowed brows slowly straightened out, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. Harry did not like the look of it.

"I could transform into Snuffles, then."

"No," Harry shook his head. "You already revealed that you were an animagus. And besides, dogs aren't allowed on campus, Rosier would get suspicious if he saw!"

"He won't see—"

Did he not understand the risk? "He's a Death Eater, Sirius! You told me to be wary of him, yourself!"

"Yeah, which is why this would be a great opportunity to spy on him."

"No!" Did he not get how serious this was? Voldemort could already see Harry's mind, it was a risk to even have him here. He couldn't let Sirius expose himself. "It's too risky, Sirius!"

"The risk would've been what made it fun for James!"

Harry froze, his eyes going wide. Sirius had been smiling when he said that. But the corners of his mouth fell when he saw Harry's expression.

"Haz?"

Harry released him, taking a step back. His face hardened.

"Then I supposed it's a good thing I'm Harry, then."

"Harry—"

Harry didn't listen. He walked out.

━━━━

Remus returned the Marauder's map to Harry at the end of his third year, after the man quit. Ever since, Harry had gotten into the habit of watching who was lurking inside the castle late at night when he couldn't sleep.

Adhara sometimes nicked it from him, but it was always quite easy to retrieve it back. She may not want to give Harry the Slytherin common room password, but it was quite easy for Harry to sneak into place with an invisibility cloak. Though, how Adhara took it from Harry's dorm without anyone spotting her, Harry will never know. And he didn't think he wanted to, either.

With a lumos at the tip of his wand, Harry watched over — spied on — the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle. His roommates were asleep, so Harry remained quiet. Though, even if he did speak, the boys were so used to Ron's sleep talking that no one would really react unless Harry started to scream.

Which he won't. Because he was awake and so he couldn't have nightmares.

That was a life hack right there.

Ron and Harry's name were in the same place. Hermione was in her room, and so were Adhara and Millie in the Slytherin's dorms. Harry could even see where the teachers were in their private quarters. Dumbledore was pacing in his office, as always, and it seemed like McGonagall and Snape were with him.

Everything looked quite normal. Until Harry noticed Victor Rosier's name in the Entrance Hall, lurking around the doors as though he was trying to leave. Or return.

Harry frowned and got out of bed.

━━━━

"Rosier was creeping around the castle last night."

Adhara's brows furrowed. Harry had dragged her to the owlery before breakfast, and he was whispering conspiratorially.

"What?"

He nodded. "He was out, I think. Had mud on his shoes and all. And he was trying to get into the Slytherin's Commons."

"Why would he do that?"

Harry shrugged.

Adhara stayed silent. She didn't bring up her suspicions regarding Malfoy and his father's whereabouts. Or, well. Voldemort's. Rosier was a known Death Eater, after all. It would make sense.

"Did you see anyone else? Maybe on the map?"

Harry got quiet, looking sheepish.

"Haz. Who caught you?"

"How do you if someone caught me?"

Adhara crossed her arms.

Harry sighed. "I didn't see Malfoy sneak up on me."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes. He asked what I was doing in the dungeons, but I just asked him what he was doing out of bed. So, we just went our way."

That. That was odd. Why was Rosier meeting with Malfoy? What was happening?

"You think Malfoy and Rosier are up to something?"

Harry nodded. "Malfoy's been...strange all year, hasn't he?"

"His father was in jail, almost got executed and is now on the run. We'd be acting strange too, in his place."

"On the run's quite a reach," scoffed Harry. "Malfoy definitely knows where his dad is."

━━━━━━━━ ✥ ━━━━━━━━