Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did.

There was that dreaded corridor again. He sighed. Might as well try it one last time. He started cautiously down the narrow walkway, stretching his hand out, reaching for it, reaching for it, stretching, straining, and finally! He touched the doorknob. And just as he was about to turn it, darkness suddenly clouded his vision, making him fall on his knees. Dark figures with sweeping robes glided around him, showing images that only made sense to him. A flash of green light. An ordinary quill with a sharp point lying on top of a piece of yellowed parchment. A head in a fire, talking. A boy, spread-eagled on the ground, dead. A different boy, hanging upside down, suspended from his left ankle. Yet another four boys, jeering at their victim while a girl shouted at them to stop. A—

Suddenly Harry Potter woke up, along with practically all of Hogwarts. His scream had not only nearly deafened the fifth-year boys in the Gryffindor dormitory, but even some girls from the Slytherin dungeons were jolted awake by the ear-splitting shriek. Seeing that there wasn't a problem, they all went back to sleep, with the exception of the five boys in the Gryffindor tower.

"What was it this time?" Dean Thomas asked, illuminating his wand. Seamus Finnegan rolled over and pretended to be asleep, but everyone knew he was still listening. Harry shook his head.

"Everything," he replied vaguely. He wasn't ready to share this with Dean or Neville yet, much less Seamus. Maybe he would tell Ron and Hermione later. As the other four drifted off to sleep again (they were very tired at four-thirty in the morning), Harry could not. Every time he closed his eyes, the dreams would come back, the images more jarring than before. Yesterday's spectacle was probably the most haunting. Harry hadn't intended on delving into his enemy's worst memories, but somehow he found his curiosity taking over as he plunged into his Potions professor's Pensieve. It was not a very good experience. His father, the brave former Gryffindor with all his acts of valor, was even worse than Draco Malfoy! Didn't he torment Snape just because he was bored? Did Lily actually love James? Or was she just another object, forced into marrying him? But then, if they hadn't loved each other, then why didn't one just let the other die in the hands of Lord Voldemort? It was all a big, confusing puzzle.

As Harry made his way down to the common room, his scars started throbbing again, both his forehead and his right hand. The lightning bolt-shaped cut, he could do nothing about, so he ust rubbed it wearily. His hand, however, was a different case. Every time he looked at the raw, red skin, he could feel the pain, the sharp knife stabbing into his flesh, carving out those dreaded five words over and over again. I must not tell lies. All Umbitch's fault. He snorted humorlessly. That toadface woman could not just accept the fact that Lord Voldemort was back. And decree after decree was created, each of them growing stupider and stupider. Boys and girls not allowed within eight inches of each other? Shirts that have to be tucked in? What kind of rules were those? The throbbing was growing more and more irritating. Fed up with trying not to stare at the scars, he casted a quick glamour charm. It still hurt, but at least he couldn't see them now. Keeping up with his daily ritual of clearing his mind (even though Snape had already quit the Occlumency lessons and it didn't work anyway), Harry soon fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of that night in the graveyard again.

The next morning, Harry was cranky and irritable with lack of sleep. And to make things worse, it was Potions first thing after breakfast. And, Hermione was really getting on his nerves, because she found him asleep on the common room couch at eight thirty, and Ron had told her that Harry had had a nightmare. She kept pestering him to listen to Snape and "clear his mind" until Harry had reached his breaking point.

"God, Hermione. Will you shut up? Snape quit the Occlumency lessons yesterday, all right?" He said.

"What? But why did he quit?" she asked, taken aback. Harry grimaced. He didn't want to share that with anyone, not even his best friends. He knew Snape was an enemy, but that what he witnessed yesterday was private.

"Dumbledore thought that I learned enough to keep Voldemort out of my mind," he quickly made up.

"Then why did you wake up all of Hogwarts last night?" Ron countered. Harry closed his eyes.

"Flashback of my parents," he said, which was partially true, but he knew that this would get them to stop firing questions at him. Hermione and Ron had such looks of sympathy on their faces that Harry almost wanted to comfort them himself, but instead he started speedwalking to Potions. He hesitated before entering. What would Snape do to him today, after yesterday's spectacle?

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said as she opened the door. Harry braced himself for the verbal attack he expected about being late, but Snape's lips just tightened when he saw them. Slightly pleased that Snape didn't take any points off Gryffindor, Harry made his way to the table he shared with Ron. Like he usually did every lesson, Snape stalked to the front of the room, with his robes billowing out behind him, droning on in his monotone voice about the new potion they were supposed to make. Harry soon tuned him out and started a game of Hangman with Ron. He had just won against Ron ("Snape is a greasy git") when they both finally noticed that the professor himself was looming over them, and had been for quite a long time now.

"You think you don't have to pay attention in my class, Potter? Just as arrogant as your father. A lot of good it did him," Snape sneered. Harry's heart sank. He knew it was true. His father had been even more arrogant, attacking defenseless students just to gain the attention of his mother. Next to him, Ron opened his mouth, about to retort, but Harry shushed him. There was no use when everything he said was real. Snape was surprised that Potter didn't argue back. He wanted him to, so desperately wanted Harry to lose control, to blow up, because deep down, he knew that Harry actually wasn't like his father at all, besides the looks. Nevertheless, Snape kept taunting him, waiting for him to take the bait. This was payback for what had been done so many years ago.

"So you think you already know what I had just finished teaching the majority of the class, Potter?" He said majority with such emphasis that it made half the students wince. Harry kept his cool.

"No, professor. I'm sorry," he replied. "I'll pay attention next time."

"There won't be a next time. You think you deserve a second chance? Not likely. All of you, start brewing the Draught of Living Death. I will grade each potion at the end of class. Those of you who deserve an O shall get one. Dreadful potions shall be given T's," he growled. "Now hurry up!"

That'll show Potter. He thought as everyone scrambled around, trying to gather the proper ingredients. He smirked. Revenge was sweet.

Harry and Ron were in the midst of a heated conversation.

"Why do you actually want to do well in this class? Three days ago you were telling me how you didn't care if you failed," Ron said. Harry sighed. How should he explain this?

"I want to pass my OWLs," he answered quickly, randomly adding three Pufferfish eyes into his cauldron. "And with the rate Umbridge is going, I'll probably fail all my classes."

"And you think you'll be able to pass that old bat's?"

"Don't call him an old bat, Ron."

"WHAT?!" he exclaimed. "DID YOU JUST DEFEND SNAPE?!" Ron shouted loud enough for practically the whole world to hear. Others turned to stare at Ron's loud voice. Even some Slytherins were confused. Why would anyone want to defend Snape of all people? They were even more puzzled when they found out it was Harry freaking Potter. Harry flushed.

"Just don't call him an old bat, Ron, okay?" he asked quietly, staring into the onyx eyes of his professor. Snape looked like he was at a cross between wanting to yell at Ron for yelling in his class, giving Harry and Ron a detention just because, or hugging Harry for supporting him.

"See me after class, Potter," he said, fixing a glare on his least favorite student. The rest of the period passed without much incident, except for the usual sneering at Neville Longbottom or complimenting the Slytherins. At the end of class, Harry obediently walked up to Snape's desk.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked. Snape started. What was with the polite attitude? Did Potter feel guilty about the Pensieve incident? Could Potters even feel guilty? And why did Snape even want to see Potter in the first place? There really was no reason, but he was itching to see what could humiliate Potter.

"You will proceed to brew me a potion that reduces swelling. A first-year potion, mind you. But I have no doubt that you will fail because nothing seems to be able to get past that thick head of yours," Snape barked. "Now!"

Harry scurried around the classroom, grabbing ingredients here and there, determined to do it right. This potion was fairly simple actually, compared to the Polyjuice Hermione had to brew their second year. He'd already brewed this potion successfully twice, once in class and once for the exam. If he could only concentrate without Snape breathing down his back. Snape criticized every move he made, even if they were right. Just as he was about to add the final ingredients to his cauldron, Snape started yelling again.

"Potter! You have to add the crushed shrivelfig a pinch at a time! Can you understand anything I tell you?" Harry sighed, but proceeded to follow Snape's instructions. He clearly remembered however much ingredients you added at a time didn't have any affect whatsoever on the potion, but thought it best not to argue. While the potion was brewing, Harry started cleaning up the ingredients. While he was picking up the sprigs of lavender to put away, Snape startled him, making him drop the jar into his cauldron. The potion bubbled, and then turned purple. Both breathed sighs of relief when nothing happened, but it didn't last very long. Suddenly, the cauldron exploded, sending the potion everywhere, covering the classroom and making it look like a purple version of Dolores Umbridge's office. Harry and Snape both fainted.

Harry groaned as he woke up, opening his eyes and reaching for his glasses when he realized he didn't need them anymore. What? Maybe the accidental potion enhanced vision. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Snape would be livid when he woke up. All of a sudden, Harry realized that his hair didn't feel the same way. It was long, coarse, and sort of….greasy. What? No! It couldn't be. Hands shaking, he drew up his left sleeve. And there it was, a burning black tattoo of a skull and a snake protruding from his mouth.

Author's note: Soooo, what do you think? Too long? Too short? Good? Bad? Please, please review.