The silver instruments whirred and emitted little puffs of smoke. The portraits looked at him with sleepy faces. Fawkes seemed oblivious to what was happening around him.

"Harry, I insisted that you should resume your Occlumency lessons because we can't leave you unprotected against Voldemort. There's a strong bond between you, and he may use it to try to induce you to do things, or even to possess you."

Harry knew all that perfectly well. He had heard it before, many times. He stared with tired eyes at the Headmaster, and didn't say a thing.

"Very well. There's nothing to be afraid of, Harry. I'll just teach you to block your mind. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded.

"Three, two, one, Legilimens!"

Harry was walking through the Department of Mysteries, fascinated with everything he saw. Tanks of brains, shelves of prophecies. Once again, the hourglass was following its endless cycle. Slowly, he approached the Veil Room. Like a siren's chant, the veil attracted him. It would be so nice just to let himself go. As he got nearer, numbly, he saw many figures moving on the other side. He saw Sirius's figure, quite clearly. Behind Sirius, Lily smiled at him.

"Harry, you aren't trying to block me!"

Startled, Harry gazed at the Headmaster with widened eyes. Then he blinked.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster. I got distracted."

"Those images... are they from a dream of yours?"

"I don't know, Sir. I think so."

The Headmaster tried again, once, twice. All in vain. Harry always went back to the veil, and didn't offer any resistance. Eventually Dumbledore laid down his wand and gazed seriously at his student.

"Harry, do you feel attracted to the idea of death? I understand that Sirius's death has unsettled you, but wouldn't it help to think of positive things? You have to find new aims that help you to go on, a new source of energy."

Harry left the Headmaster's office crestfallen. How could he think of positive things if his destiny was to face Voldemort and kill him, or die? Harry didn't want to be a murderer. He would rather die. But if he had to die, then why not right now?

Oh, to the Wizarding World, that would be terrible: if he died now, he wouldn't save the world from the bloody villain's claws. Great. So, he would have to kill the monster and become, once again, The Boy Who Lived. A Wizarding World hero. He already knew how it felt, and it wasn't fun at all.

Harry checked his watch. It was almost lunchtime. Instead of going upstairs, to his dormitory, Harry went down to the entrance hall and out of the castle. He walked to the lake. Near its banks, he found a step in a slope, and sat down there. Then he heard footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he saw the mysterious Navajo boy, about whom everybody in Hogwarts had been talking since the beginning of the term, coming in his direction.

Soon, the boy was at his side, his small teeth shining as he smiled.

"Hello, Harry Potter! My name is Kai."

Harry grimaced. All he wanted at the moment was to be alone, but now he would have to cope with a nosy eleven-year-old.

"What do you want?" he asked crossly.

The boy sat at his side. "It's just that... I heard people saying that... that you've lost someone you loved."

A deeply saddened expression reflected in the older boy's eyes. "Who said so?"

"Oh. It doesn't matter. What I wanted to tell you is that... well, he's not dead."

"What? How come? I saw when he passed through... when he died."

"You know, my people hate death. If I were in my territory, I wouldn't even be allowed to say this word. Our families try to get people outside before they die, and if it can't be done, then they'll knock a hole in the wall because they don't want the chindi... er, the evil part of the person to remain. And when someone dies, his entire hogan is burned."

Seeing Harry's puzzled look, Kai explained, "A hogan is what you call a house, or like, a home. Everything that belongs to the dead person must be burned along with their body. Before I came here, my father said to me that Hogwarts wasn't going to be like a hogan to me, because here, in these lands, each person's hogan is their own being. You are your own hogan. This idea is weird, but now I'm getting used to it. If he hadn't explained this to me, I wouldn't be able to stay in Hogwarts, because there are those ghosts... they are evil... Many people died here, and I can feel their energy hovering around the castle. In the beginning, I couldn't sleep, and I kept repeating to myself: 'Hogwarts is not my hogan'." The Slytherin boy broke off and raised his eyes to Harry, apparently realising that he had spoken about more than he had intended. "Has anyone seen the corpse?"

"No, but..."

"If there's no body, there's no death."

"You don't understand. He passed through the veil."

"The veil in the Department of Mysteries?"

"How do you know about it?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Well, my parents are working there. Here, I'm going to explain everything to you. There are four or five worlds."

"Four or five?" asked Harry, sardonically.

"Well, it depends on who you talk to. My parents taught me that there are four worlds, and that the fifth world is still to come. Before anything, there was the First World, which was dark and barren, black as black wool. The Holy people and the Air Spirit People - the insects - inhabited it. There was also a Black God, the Fire God, which is a dark masculine force within the feminine - do you know the Chinese yin-yang symbol, where the black dot of yang lies within the light side?"

Harry nodded.

"It's the same idea. The Fire God is deeply buried in the core of the Mother Mountain. He is slow and old, but also very brave and calm when he has to face danger. He's amazing! But the Air Spirit People misbehaved and did immoral things, and the Fire God got angry and forced all the earliest beings to go up through a hole in the sky to the next higher world, the Second World."

The Navajo boy breathed deeply and continued. "The second world was blue, and there the earliest beings were well received by the Swallow people, or Cave Dwellers, who lived on the mountains. But again they had to move on. First Man had a struggle with the Cat People, who were tricksters. A being named Begochidi created a pair of twins, male and female, and allowed the Fire God to kill them to become transmitters of life.

"Driven up to the third world, which was yellow, the beings met the Snake People. Begochidi created the rivers, as well as animals and birds, and plant life. All spoke one language.

"The fourth world was blue or white, and there the union between man and nature was broken. The four sacred mountains were created, in the four directions, North, South, East and West, in its four colours - White Shell represents the east, Turquoise the south, Yellow Abalone the west, and Jet Black the north - as well as the hogan, which represents the universe in miniature. The sexes became segregated. Men began to become conscious of what they did."

Kai breathed deeply again, and Harry asked, "It's in this world that we live?"

"Yes. And that veil, it must be the passage to the Fifth World."

"And what is this Fifth World?"

"The prophecy says that the Fifth World will bring peace and harmony. There will be changes on the soil and the waters. People's feelings will change too. There will be new colourful dreams and the Rainbow Warriors will appear: they will learn how to keep the balance. The changes on Mother Earth will bring fear to her children, but, later, they will lead to the Conscience of Unity of the world and all its people."

Harry gazed at Kai with tired eyes. All that was a load of mystic codswallop, as far as he was concerned. "Kai, go and talk to Luna, okay? She'll love your ideas."

"Uh, I've already talked a lot with Luna. She's kind of crazy, isn't she? But she's a nice girl."

Harry grimaced.

"So, Harry, don't be sad. Your friend must have been a very special person, if he could pass to the Fifth World."

"But the veil is right there, in the Department of Mysteries. Anyone could go there and pass through it to get to this Fifth World, isn't that right?"

"I don't know, Harry. I only know that your mission is not in the Fifth World, it's right here. You are the only one that can defeat... You-Know-Who."

Harry started. "What makes you say that?"

"My father is a very powerful wizard, and he told me so."

"If this is true, if I have to stay here and fight Voldemort, it makes no difference if my friend is dead or not," said Harry, losing his patience. All the frustration of the last months seemed to be rising to the surface. "I still can't be with him."

"You are ill, Harry. If you want, I can make a Sandpainting for you. It's an important part of many healing ceremonies. I can be your singer."

"Make what? No, thanks, Kai. I'm not ill." Perhaps the boy's intentions were good, but Harry didn't believe a word that he had said. "And why are you trying to help me? You're a Slytherin!"

Kai stared at him, astonished. "If you're going to save the world, then you're important to us Slytherins too."

Harry shook his head in amazement. "Why on earth did the Hat put you in Slytherin?"

"I asked it to. The Big Snake is terrible and transforms men into snakes in his anger, but he has always been my friend, because without him, there wouldn't be any healing ceremonies."

"Healing, healing, healing. Maybe you should go and be a doctor."

"Among my people, there's no division between wizards and those you call Muggles. We live perfectly well together. And the wizards are the hataalis, the healers. My father's a healer, and I'll be one when I grow up too."

More and more surprised, Harry stared at the younger boy. How would that boy survive in Slytherin?

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Potions classroom and found seats at the back. This year, Snape required that each student work at separate cauldrons, and hadn't let Harry sit beside Hermione. So Ron and Hermione sat in the last row, with Ron at the end; and Harry sat in front of Hermione. The seat to Harry's right, in front of Ron, remained vacant.

Snape arrived and slammed the door behind himself. When the class heard the door bang, they all stopped chatting and sat in silence, as always.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that is an antidote to many poisons, especially to the powerful Devil's Trumpet. One interesting aspect of it is the absence of bezoar in its composition. It constitutes an important alternative to be used on the occasions when an antidote is required and bezoar is unavailable. Pay attention and be warned: if you make the slightest mistake, the antidote won't work." Snape flicked his wand toward the blackboard. "As usual, the ingredients and method are on the blackboard, and you will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half to complete the potion."

It was another of those potions in which the ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities. The mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, first clockwise, then anticlockwise; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right temperature for a specific amount of time between adding each ingredient.

"Ron, you're not supposed to add the dried Billywig stingers now!" exclaimed Hermione. "Have you skipped a whole paragraph of the instructions?"

"Uh? Billy who?"

Hermione gave a deep sigh.

"Oh, Hermione, leave me alone! You find fault in everything I do," Ron complained.

There they were, arguing with each other again. It was getting worse and worse all the time. Distracted, Harry forgot to lower the heat.

"If you are doing everything correctly, your potion should now be changing from green to crimson," commented Snape to the class.

Harry looked at his cauldron and saw an irremediably vomit-green potion. He turned around to look back at his friends. "Hermione, my potion's still green. What can I do?"

Harry saw Hermione raise her eyes above his head and gain a nervous expression. Slowly, Harry turned back around and found himself facing Snape's dark figure.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

"Sir?"

"Why is your potion green? And why such a sickly green colour?"

"I don't know, Sir."

The Slytherins began to giggle.

"Did you lower the heat at the right time? After adding the leech juice?"

"Er, Sir..."

"Potter, you were not paying attention, yet again. It is becoming a routine with you. I've warned you that you would have to make an effort to catch up with the rest of the class. Now I have no alternative. You will have to take Remedial Potions. Twice a week."

The Slytherins were in Heaven. Draco Malfoy grinned from ear to ear. Blood began to rise in Harry's face. He clutched his desk tightly to prevent himself from reacting.

"Tomorrow, six o'clock PM, in my laboratory," said Snape.

"Yes, Sir."

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's cauldron.

"Evanesco."

Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. It wasn't the first time that Snape had done this to him.

"Those of you who paid attention to the instructions and therefore now have a crimson potion in your cauldron, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it with your name and bring it up to my desk," ordered Snape. "Homework: thirteen inches of parchment on the ten poisons officially classified as most dangerous and their antidotes, to be handed in on Thursday."

Ron's flagon contained a brownish potion, but Snape didn't make any comment when he received it. Hermione's potion was perfectly crimson, of course, as was Draco Malfoy's.

And Neville's too! Neville seemed to be getting better every day. Only Harry managed to get worse and worse as time went on.

Joy of joys. After that silly bickering in Potions class, Ron and Hermione weren't on speaking terms again. Worse: Hermione thought that Harry had made things easier for Snape by not paying attention, which had left Harry enraged, and Ron couldn't care less about Harry's drama: Ron was only concerned with his duties as Prefect and his Quidditch performance.

Quidditch. Harry was the new Captain. He didn't want to be, but he and Ron were the oldest players, and Ron was busy being a Prefect and... sucked at Quidditch. Harry felt terrible, because nothing, not even Quidditch, had the same appeal for him as before. What he most liked to do was flying on his Firebolt. But now he was the responsible for the entire team.

He had scheduled practices on Wednesdays and Fridays, at 6 PM. Now he would have to postpone the Wednesday practices to some other day at some hour after 8 PM, since everything seemed to indicate that on Mondays and Wednesdays he would have Remedial Potions at 6 PM. Which was the same hour in which he had Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Great.

Cynically, he could see only one positive aspect in all that: he wouldn't have to train Dumbledore's Army any more. His friends wanted him to continue as their leader; Harry wasn't very happy with this prospect, but if his timetable allowed him to do it, he would have had to accept it - he wouldn't have let his friends down. With that timetable, however, it was impossible. After all, he needed some time during the week to do his homework. Trying not to feel guilty, Harry told himself that Akhmatov, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, despite being mysterious and non-trustworthy (he had come from Durmstrang!), didn't look so bad.

"Harry, you are now able to block my access to your mind, when you focus your attention. However, I've been noticing that you are using anger to do so. As with every time that we use negative emotions as a tool, it can be a double-edged sword. Your opponent might push you, nurture your rage until you lose control." Dumbledore gazed at him with his infinite compassion, and that irritated Harry more than anything. "My advice is the same I have been giving you all these weeks: try to find something positive on which to focus your mental energy, your soul power."

At least in Snape's laboratory, in front of all those despicable jars, Harry could feel solitary. As soon as Snape finished giving him the instructions for the evening's work, he left Harry alone. He wouldn't go too far away but, working at another potion in a cauldron some feet away from Harry, he seemed so concentrated in his work that it was as if he wasn't there at all.

That was weird. Because, when Snape wanted the attention of a student, it was impossible to ignore his presence. But there in his laboratory, if Harry didn't make any strange noise, or didn't call him to ask for some help - which he seldom did - Snape's presence was inconspicuous, almost intangible.

Snape didn't keep him on a short leash and didn't lecture him while he was preparing the potion. Only at the end of the sessions the professor examined the potion meticulously and made his acerbic, cynical remarks. He never praised Harry and, while his criticisms were accurate and to the point - one must acknowledge that he had mastered his subject admirably - the tone in which they were uttered was always full of contempt and hate for the student.

However, Harry was getting used to that. All summed up, Remedial Potions allowed him the calmest moments in his life. Without Ron and Hermione's bickering to torment him; without having to scold his Quidditch teammates and listen to their complaints; without the impossible counsels of Dumbledore. And without the tension of Potions classes, in which the presence of the Slytherins and the other students seemed to encourage Snape's bullying.

Sometimes, when he arrived at Snape's laboratory, Harry found Kai there. The first times it had happened, Snape had dismissed Kai. The boy would greet Harry and say goodbye to Snape, with his characteristic cheerful smile.

Until the night Snape didn't dismiss Kai: he left Kai stirring, with all his might, the great cauldron in which Snape usually worked, and approached Harry to give him instructions about the potion that he would have to prepare in that class. Then, while Harry started to gather the ingredients for the potion, Snape took his place at the large cauldron and asked Kai to do something for him.

"Potter, don't allow yourself to become distracted. You must learn to focus even in the presence of other people."

Harry sighed and tried not to pay attention to the interactions between Snape and the Navajo boy. He couldn't help noticing, however, that Snape didn't treat him badly, and that the boy seemed to idolise his teacher.

Almost two months had passed without any remarkable event, except for Lucius Malfoy's and his Death Eater friends' escaping from Azkaban without leaving any trace. This caused Draco to regain part of his lost confidence and become more and more insufferable. Nothing special had occurred on Halloween - what an utterly boring party that had been. Gryffindor had won the first Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff. And Slytherin had defeated Ravenclaw.

After the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match, there was a field battle at the Quidditch pitch. The Ravenclaws had resigned themselves to defeat, but the Gryffindors had insisted that the referee (Hooch had been ill on the day of the match, and one of her apprentices had been chosen as referee) hadn't called a foul at a key moment in the match. Harry had been one of those who had complained the most, and he had happily joined the jinx battle against the Slytherins. The battle had been stopped by the clever intervention of the Head Boy, Axel Lescaux, who had cast an Impedimenta on every brawler. Gryffindor and Slytherin had lost fifty points each in the House Competition. After that, Ron had argued with Hermione again, because she had criticised the Gryffindor boys' behaviour and he had become furious with her lack of house spirit. After all, the referee had cheated!

Harry hadn't found anything positive to focus on, but was getting better and better at Occlumency nonetheless. Sometimes he could even block Dumbledore, counter with a shield charm and penetrate into the Headmaster's mind for some seconds. The Headmaster reprimanded him in his gentle manner, saying that Harry had to work to bring out his positive side.

Those classes expanded his perceptions gradually. Notwithstanding, apparently he was using the dark forces to achieve his goals.

He was getting more and more powerful. He could feel it when he blocked the older wizard and, in doing so, managed to penetrate Dumbledore's mind. It was more or less like looking into a pensieve.

Everything went black and, for a brief instant, Harry regained consciousness of present time. However, he wanted to see more. He didn't recognise his own voice saying "Legilimens."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, surrendering to the power of the younger wizard.

Harry was still staring at Snape's pained face, when the image faded out.

Leaving Dumbledore's mind, Harry glared daggers at him.

"That's... that's inhuman! Why do you make him go through this?"

Dumbledore lowered his head. Harry went out of the Headmaster's office, banging the heavy oak door.

That night, Harry slept very badly. His not so rare nightmares intensified, with the only difference that now Snape was the constant victim of Voldemort. Or, even worse, of Dumbledore.

What do I care if he's being tortured? Harry asked himself, and shivered. He's a greasy, ugly git.

Greasy and ugly. That was so insignificant, so childish, so petty in face of what Snape was enduring. What did it matter if he was ugly or greasy?

But he's a sadistic bastard.

What did Harry know about Snape's history? Very little. But the little that he knew... all those scenes of the boy seeing his mother cornered by a man who seemed to be his father, of him alone in his bedroom casting spells on flies, of him being mocked by a girl because he couldn't fly; the pensieve scene, in which Harry's father and his friends humiliated and bullied him; and now, that scene in Dumbledore's mind... everything, absolutely everything, told him about extreme suffering. Harry himself would turn into a sadistic person if his life contained nothing but those heart-wrenching memories, wouldn't he?

Because I've seen only scenes where he was the victim, it doesn't mean that he hadn't been the executioner in other moments.

Perhaps if he believed that Snape had been a very, very bad wizard, that when he was a Death Eater he had killed and eaten little children and old ladies, then he would be able not to care about all he knew now.

Perhaps.

Having slept very badly, Harry spent all day in a terrible mood and in an almost catatonic state. McGonagall had nearly lost her patience with him in her class when the table he had to transfigure into an owl had been transformed into a Diricawl instead. The Transfiguration teacher couldn't believe that he hadn't done it on purpose, because the transfiguration of an object into a Diricawl was an extremely complex and delicate spell: the Diricawls were remarkably elusive beasts.

Some hours later, moving like an automaton, Harry presented himself to Snape for the Remedial Potions class.

"Mr Potter. Your deeds are being spoken of in all corners of the Wizarding World! Perhaps having lived a long time among the Muggles, you have come to believe in the Didus ineptus extinction, and now you are trying to resurrect it?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Potter. I would not delude myself believing that I could lower my vocabulary to the point of being understood by such a trite and shallow mind as yours. It's symptomatic that you had chosen the Diricawl, an abysmally incompetent bird, as its Muggle Latin name indicates: 'inept dodo'."

Harry clenched his hands tightly and glared at Snape. But just when he was about to give a snapping reply, words got stuck in his throat. Coming from the bottom of Snape's empty eyes, echoes of the last night's nightmares reverberated in his mind.

"Professor... I know how entertaining it is for you to humiliate me. And I don't want to take your toy from you. But I can't hate you any more. You can be as sarcastic as you want, and keep throwing petty insults at me, but it won't matter. Your words won't make any difference." He looked directly at Snape. " I don't hate you."

Snape narrowed his eyes, utterly bewildered. "What..."

Wonder of wonders, he had left Snape speechless. At least for a moment.

"Potter," the Professor was finally able to say, "What can have happened to cause this sudden change of heart? Why have you made such an absurd speech?"

"Because it's true. I'm sorry. Really sorry."

For a second, it seemed Snape was going to grab him, shake him, force him to explain his words, his changed feelings. But soon the professor was in control again, stiffening up and, perhaps to gain time, going to one of the shelves and taking a book down.

When he came back across the room towards Harry, no emotion showed in his expression.

"Very well. Let's see what your task will be tonight."

In the next Remedial Potions class, Harry found Kai at Snape's cauldron.

"Hello, Harry," said the Navajo boy.

"Hello, Kai."

Snape approached Kai and steadied the hand with which the boy was stirring the cauldron. "We'll continue this tomorrow, all right?" Very carefully, Snape rested the stirring spoon against the edge of the cauldron. "Thank you, Kai."

With a beaming smile, Kai embraced the professor. The latter stroked the boy's hair a bit awkwardly, but nonetheless affectionately.

"You're welcome!" Kai withdrew a little. "Goodbye then, sir. See you tomorrow."

And Kai cheerfully left the laboratory.

Harry stared at Snape, astonished.

"Mr Potter, would you be so kind as to pick up your jaw from my dungeons floor?"

Harry shook his head, struggling to recover from the surprise. "You... you like him!"

"Is that a difficult concept for you to grasp? Do you think that I'm not capable of human feelings? Is that so? Well, you are mistaken about me. As always."

A strange feeling took hold of Harry. No, he wasn't, he couldn't be jealous of Kai. But if it wasn't jealousy, why then, suddenly, he felt like... like he wanted to find out how would it feel to be the object of Snape's regard?

Not hating Snape anymore, however, didn't help him at all. The future still weighed on Harry like a colossal block of black lead. It was more and more difficult to gather the energy to wake up in the morning; at night, it was also hard to force himself to go to bed, for the nightmares haunted him without respite.

Engulfed in deep depression, Harry could only cheer himself by working out the details of his dark plan: to go to the Department of Mysteries and... pass through the veil. Gradually, the decision was being made in his mind. Nothing tied him to the Wizarding World, or to any other world that he knew. The few ties he had formed weren't strong enough to stop him any more.

He waited until a Sunday on which the students in the upper years had received permission to go to Hogsmeade. Then, in the evening, he went into the Forbidden Forest, taking with him some pieces of raw meat that he had asked Dobby to bring from the kitchen. He dropped the pieces of meat to the ground and, very soon, a group of Thestrals appeared through the trees to investigate the scent. Harry climbed on the back of one Thestral and, putting the invisibility cloak over himself, ordered, "Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London."

The Thestral took off quickly and steeply. Harry clenched his arms and legs tightly around the horse-like creature and closed his eyes. They soared out above the highest trees and crossed the grounds of Hogwarts, then passed Hogsmeade. The sun was setting, and soon the lights of the Muggle towns spread below him, mirroring the stars above. A cold wind whipped his hair and robes, but Harry didn't care. After all, this would be his last adventure.

The Thestral landed abruptly a few yards from the telephone box at the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Harry stroked the Thestral's mane, said goodbye and went to the box. He entered and dialled six two four four two.

The female voice sounded inside the box. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter. I'm here to visit the Department of Mysteries."

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes. You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Okay!" Harry said loudly.

The floor of the telephone box vibrated and started to down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic. A soft golden light hit his feet and rose up, spreading through his body. The Atrium seemed completely empty, once again.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box opened. Harry put his invisibility cloak on and went out.

Nothing had changed since the last time he had been there, except for the absence of the statue of the Fountain of the Magical Brethren, which had been destroyed then. Harry passed through the golden gates and went straight to the lifts. He pressed one of the "down" buttons and a lift clattered into sight immediately. The golden grilles slid apart. Harry pushed the number nine button; the grilles closed noisily.

The female voice said, "Department of Mysteries", and the grilles slid open. Harry stepped out into the corridor, completely empty, and walked towards the black door. He swung the door open and entered the large, circular room, where everything was black, including the mysterious doors interspersed with branches of blue flame candles. The candles began to move sideways and the circular wall rotated.

The first door that Harry tried led to the Prophecies Room. This time, it was not what he wanted. How ironic.

The second one opened to the Brain Room. Damn luck.

Finally, the third door led to the large room, dimly lit and rectangular, in whose centre there was a great stone pit surrounded by steps, like an amphitheatre. At the centre of the pit, was the stone dais on which stood the ancient, crumbling stone archway hung with a tattered black veil.

The veil was fluttering and swaying.

Harry descended the steps and reached the bottom of the stone pit. His footsteps echoed through the room. The swaying veil attracted him like a magnet. There was some kind of music coming from the other side of the veil. The voices of the dead calling him, perhaps. Harry got closer and closer, and then stopped, almost touching the veil. It was so beautiful and fascinating, almost irresistible. He closed his eyes.

Even before he opened his eyes, he noticed that there was something strange. Where was he? There was something wet on his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly, and the image that started to appear didn't help him to understand what was going on: a curtain of black hair, a little... greasy. Then, the pale drained face of his once-hated Potions master. Harry tried to sit up.

"Ouch... What happened? Did they torture you? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, concerned at Snape's beaten expression.

Snape grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back into the sofa. "What are you talking about?" the Professor asked, bewildered.

Harry looked around. He was lying on a sofa, in a kind of office, with desks and file-cabinets. "Where am I?"

"In the Ministry of Magic, Potter."

Suddenly, he remembered. And groaned. "Then... I didn't pass through the veil."

"I fancy not, Potter. I, for my part, can assure you I haven't passed through any veil."

At least that was the old Snape - and that soothed him in a way because, an instant before, the professor's expression had worried him. As for the rest, his world seemed to have crumbled once again.

"I'm such an idiot. An incompetent, like you've said. It was so simple, but I couldn't even manage that much."

Snape made a gesture of exasperation, and didn't say a word.

"How did you know?" Harry asked. "Did you save me... again?"

Snape gave a bitter smile. "Oh, no. There's a jinx on me that prevents me from saving you, even when I'm in a perfect position to do so. At the last minute, someone comes out of the blue and saves you first, or someone sets my robes on fire: anything. The strangest events occur in order to prevent me from paying my debt."

He looked desolate. If Harry weren't so depressed, perhaps he would have laughed. Or not. In fact, he was feeling a mad desire to comfort the older wizard.

"I don't think you owe me anything."

"Your opinion doesn't matter in this case," Snape said, with his trademarked rudeness.

Harry smiled sadly. He was quite used to that. "Er... What happened, then?"

"I was here by a mere coincidence. Mr Clauschee, Kai's father, called me. He wanted some advice and information on the project they are developing. It was Mrs Clauschee who found you unconscious near the veil. We brought you to their office. She's a seer. She examined you and said that you were in perfect condition, and that you would wake up in less than an hour. Hence, they went home and left you in my care. I was waiting for you to recover in order to take you back to Hogwarts."

"So I... chickened out in the last moment. I'm such a coward."

Snape grimaced enigmatically. He seemed full of hate and pain at the same time. Then he took a deep breath, apparently trying not to lose his control. In his lowest and most threatening tone, but with a slightly tremulous note in his voice, the Potions masters said, "You are wrong. It takes more courage to stay than to leave."

And Harry remembered all Snape had been enduring as a spy. He felt deeply ashamed, and kept silent. Both stared at each other for a long instant, and the air that surrounded them seemed to vibrate, charged with repressed emotion.

Snape broke the intensity of the moment. "Do you think you can get up now?"

"I was trying to do it, but you stopped me."

"You were trying to get up too fast. Being reckless, as always."

"Well, didn't the seer say that I was in perfect condition?"

Snape only snorted.

"Oh, you don't believe in seers either," Harry said.

"If you think you can get up, do it. But do it slowly, Potter."

Snape removed the wet towel from Harry's forehead, and then offered his right hand to Harry. Grabbing it, Harry managed to sit. He was feeling great - physically. He wasn't dizzy at all. He shifted to the edge of the sofa and, still holding Snape's hand, got up.

Seeing that Harry could walk steadily, Snape went to a small fountain on the wall and poured water into a glass, which he handed to the student.

Harry drank the water slowly.

"How did you get here, Potter?"

"On a Thestral."

"Well, we will have to go back on this Thestral of yours. Both of us, because I'm not going to let you go back alone, after having fainted once tonight already."

Harry shrugged. "Even together we weigh less than most people. I think he can take us both."

Snape handed the invisibility cloak to Harry. "Put this on and follow me. Keep close." He flashed a piercing glare at Harry.

They stepped into a vast hall and walked to the lifts. Snape passed through the security desk and handed back his badge. Soon, the telephone box took them back to the pavement. Appearing from behind a huge truck, the Thestral approached them.

Snape helped Harry up onto the Thestral, and then climbed onto the back of the animal as well, positioning himself behind Harry. He adjusted the invisibility cloak to cover the entire body of the younger wizard. With one hand, Snape gripped the Thestral; the other, he passed around Harry's waist, pulling the boy against himself firmly.

"Hogwarts' gates," Snape said to the Thestral, which took off immediately.

The force of the take-off threw Harry back against Snape, who had to use all his strength not to slide back and off of the Thestral. When the turbulence ceased, Harry relaxed a little. It was so disturbing and... delicious to feel the heat and volume of Snape's body at his back. Harry didn't know when the last time was that he'd been so physically close to another person. The heat radiating against his back, and that arm round his waist felt so good, he wanted to sigh with contentment. But he didn't dare, in case it made Snape pull away. As the flight stabilised, Harry leaned against the professor's body, pretending to be asleep. He rested his head on Snape's chest. Snape didn't pull back. On the contrary: after some minutes, the professor fitted his chin over Harry's shoulder, burying his nose in the unruly hair and inhaling deeply, as if wanting to absorb his scent and imprint it forever in his memory. At least it was that that Harry wanted to believe that Snape was doing.

And, thinking of that, to his shock, Harry felt his cock getting hard. How lucky he was that his invisibility cloak concealed him. He didn't want to think about what Snape would say or do if he noticed. Or about quite why being near Snape had caused such a reaction. Had his feelings towards his professor changed even more than he had realised?

When they landed near the Hogwarts gates and dismounted, the Thestral immediately took off again, flying in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry uncovered only his face, and looked at Snape. "Professor, please... don't tell the Headmaster about... about the Veil Room."

Snape grabbed him by the shoulders fiercely. "You gave me such a fright tonight, Potter. You will never do this again, do you understand? Never!"

Startled by Snape's vehemence, Harry nodded. Snape released him.

"Cover your face again and follow me. I'm going to escort you to the Gryffindor stairs. From there, you will go directly to your dormitory," Snape commanded.

Harry nodded again, and obeyed. On the way, under the cloak, he was smiling to himself. Snape hadn't tried to humiliate him, hadn't said that he was irresponsible because he had thought of abandoning the Wizarding World to their fate. Nothing of that sort. He had only said 'you gave me such a fright'.

What a strange night it had been. He had almost tried to kill himself, and now he was discovering that maybe, just maybe, Snape cared for him.