Hey, so I'm already working on the next chapter, so it should be up within a couple weeks. But for now, you have this

Harry, Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron sat at the table, not speaking as they drank butterbeer. Even Harry, who had never quite liked the sweetness of the drink, was taking small sips.

A burst of fire illuminated the room and a scroll of parchment appeared on the table. George read it aloud.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

Harry avoided Fred's gaze. He couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Weasley died he would blame himself. It had felt so real... he had wanted to hurt Mr. Weasley... felt pleasure as he sank his fangs into his skin...

As time passed, Sirius halfheartedly suggested they all get some sleep. No one moved. But pretty soon, they were all drooping. Fred fell into a doze, his head resting on Harry's shoulder. Ginny curled up in her chair, but her eyes were still open. Harry couldn't tell if Ron and George were still awake; their eyes were hidden from view.

It was ten past five when Mrs. Weasley arrived. Harry jumped to his feet, momentarily forgetting Fred had been lying against him. Luckily, Fred had raised his head at the same time and avoided falling over.

"He's going to be all right," Mrs. Weasley said. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Harry closed his eyes. He was okay. Everyone was okay. But guilt continued to churn in his stomach long after he went to bed.

"The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him—"

Harry snatched up the Extendable Ear, heart hammering in his chest. Voldemort possessing him? But that was impossible. Right? He turned to Ginny. "When Voldemort possessed you, how did it feel?"

Ginny blinked, looking startled. Then her eyes cleared. "Strange. There were several moments I couldn't remember what I was doing or how I got there. But I take it that's not the case with you?"

"No. Which means it can't be possession," Harry concluded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "But it still doesn't explain how I saw all that."

He was still wondering about this all the way up to Christmas, but neither Sirius nor Remus had an answer when he asked.

On the last day of the holidays, Harry was told Professor Snape was waiting for him. He headed out to the kitchen.

Sirius was there as well, and he had his feet propped up on the table in front of Snape, who already looked exasperated at being in his presence.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Harry." Snape looked faintly relieved. He pushed away Sirius' foot, which had been raised very close to his nose. "This is why I prefer Lupin."

"Doesn't everyone prefer him?" Harry said.

Sirius merely shrugged in agreement.

"Anyway, Professor Snape, what do you need?" Harry asked.

"The headmaster has sent me to tell you that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Occlumency," Harry repeated. "Isn't that the mind arts? Why do I have to study Occlumency?"

"Because the headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing."

"And you'll be teaching me?" Harry guessed. Of course the headmaster is too busy to even look at his students.

"Yes." Snape inclined his head. "I shall see you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Harry. Oh, and here." He handed him a book. "I believe you will find this useful in the future."

Harry looked inside and saw very familiar writing.

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

"You're going to let me use this?" he said in disbelief.

"I am. However, there are spells in there you are not to try. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Harry nodded seriously, and Snape relaxed.

"Good." And as Sirius raised his hand to poke him, Snape left.

"Why does every magical means of transportation hate me?" Harry gasped as he stumbled of the Knight Bus.

"Maybe it's because you hate every magical means of transportation," Sirius suggested, grinning.

Harry made a very intelligent noise of disapproval. Fred, who had staggered off the bus behind him, looked just as winded.

"I never want to even look at this thing ever again," he groaned.

Ron, who had had to pick himself off the floor six times, nodded fervently.

Harry wasn't looking forward to the lessons with Snape. He knew it was necessary, but he already had enough on his plate. For one thing, Harry wasn't to tell anyone of his lessons, or at least not what he was going to be taught within those lessons.

"What do you need lessons for?" Zacharias Smith asked after lunch. "You're at top of our year."

Harry, who had not thought of an excuse, hesitated.

"It's because you're thinking of teaching Potions, isn't it?" Luna piped up. "You mentioned it before."

"Yes," Harry said gratefully. "Potions is interesting. You know, mixing stuff."

Luna looked like she wanted to smack herself at that.

If Zacharias thought anything suspicious, he didn't show it. "I thought you'd want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." He didn't wait for a response, just turned and left.

"'Mixing stuff'? Really?" Luna muttered.

"I panicked, okay?" Harry hissed back.

"Harry!" Fred was running up to them now. "The next Hogsmeade is on Valentine's Day."

"And?" Harry looked at him blankly, his mind still mostly on the D.A.

Now Luna looked like she wanted to smack Harry.

"Aaannd I was hoping we'd go together," Fred said slowly.

"Oh!" Harry felt his face warm up as his mind caught up. "Right. Cause we're boyfriends. And boyfriends go on dates." What the hell is wrong with me? he thought.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes?"

"Yeah. That's a yes." Harry stopped himself from adding any other redundant statements.

"Great," Fred said, beaming. "I'll see you later." He hurried off.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Harry, you are positively dense sometimes."

"I know," said Harry, gazing after Fred with a dopey grin on his face.

But by that evening, he was not grinning at all.

"The lesson went badly?" Sirius said.

"No, it was fine. Snape's fine," Harry said, waving his hand impatiently. "But there was something about the Department of Mysteries..."

He didn't miss the tensing of Sirius' shoulders. "What?"

"What did Snape tell you?" He sounded cautious.

"That there were few things I'd understand and that none of it concerned me," Harry replied promptly. "But—"

"But nothing," Sirius said firmly, relaxing somewhat. "Listen to Snape, okay? Just forget about the Department of Mysteries."

"All right," Harry said.

But the problem with telling someone to forget something was that it became ingrained inside their head immediately.

This was the best way I could think of for Harry to receive Snape's book