As Harry clomped through the Hogwarts halls, winding his way down to the dungeons, he had to admit that it was nice to wear something other than his pyjamas or a hospital gown. It was also nice to wander around the hallways again, even if the few people he'd met along the way were giving him strange looks. He'd begun to freak out Ron - who was escorting him - by smiling and waving merrily to each person who looked at him cross-eyed.

Yes! Look at me, the Freak Who Lived! Defeater of Voldemort - except when I'm asleep!

Ron sent him a sideways glance as Harry's bright smile successfully scared off a second year Ravenclaw girl. As she scuttled off, he said, "Uh, Harry? What exactly are you doing?"

Harry blinked innocently and replied, "Why, greeting my public, of course!" He smiled to himself, getting a kind of perverse thrill out of reacting in such an unexpected manner.

"Huh," came Ron's reply. Harry winced, realising he'd made Ron uncomfortable.

Suddenly craving some normalcy, Harry decided to be straightforward with his friend, as one thing Ron understood was being blunt. "I'm not crazy, Ron," Harry assured him. "I just can't stand everyone looking at me like I'm a ticking time bomb. Really, what have I done? Spent a couple of days unconscious? Even you're looking at me like I've grown a second head."

Ron started to protest, but Harry held up his hand. "It's okay. Really. I kind of understand why it's happening. Most people see me as a symbol. A symbol for the fight for good - the fight against Voldemort. And with Voldemort back and everyone finally admitting it, it must be scary to have that symbol out of commission for two weeks. Let's just face it; I'm not exactly known for my easy to predict behaviour, either. As for you, I know you're just worried about me."

Nodding, Ron replied, "We are just worried - me, Hermione, everybody. It's not easy thinking about He-Who...V-Voldemort crawling around your best friend's head." Harry must have had an incredulous look on his face because Ron laughed then. "Hermione's been talking to me about emotional honesty."

Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at his friend.

"What? Oh! No, not like that. Shut up. I mean, she thinks...uh, what was it? Oh yeah." In a voice scarily like Hermione's, he quoted, "'Harry's emotional ties to us may help keep him conscious.'" Then, in his normal voice, "And hell, it's not like it hurts me to tell you that you're my friend. Even if it is a little weird." The two boys reached the door to Snape's office.

Harry took a deep breath and moved to grasp the door handle. "Here goes nothing," he said, trying to maintain an airy tone.

"Yeah. I'll be back for you in two hours to escort you back, all right?"

"All right. Maybe it'll be nice to have someone other than Voldemort crawling inside my head for a couple of hours. Even if it is Snape." Harry shuddered and futilely tried to clear his head of any emotion.

"G'luck, mate."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

When Harry entered the office, Snape was sitting at his desk, head bent, grading papers. He waved his hand indicating Harry should take a seat, never looking up from his work. Since Snape had his head down, Harry didn't fight the urge to roll his eyes.

The two sat in silence, the only sounds coming from the scratch of Snape's quill as it moved across the pieces of parchment. Scritch, scritch, scritch, said the quill. Harry desperately tried not to fidget, as he knew moving would only incite Snape's ire.

Harry tried thinking about something to keep his mind occupied, eventually settling for staring off into space.

"Stop doing that."

Startled out of his reverie, Harry stared into Snape's sneering face. "Stop doing what, sir?"

"You have been jostling your foot for the past five minutes. I am sorry that my full attention is not on the great and famous Harry Potter, but I am still a professor to a gaggle of idiotic children and I have work to do."

"I could come back later."

"No, you'll stay right where you are. I believe you could stand to learn the virtue of patience."

Harry scowled. Ah, how I've missed his magnetic personality. Really, though, Harry couldn't find the heart to muster as much anger as he usually did. Either I'm very grateful for the change in scenery or my anger was due to sexual frustration. Harry pulled a face. Definitely, definitely the change in scenery.

Finally, Snape laid down his quill and stared at Harry. Harry stared back, unblinking. Then, without Harry ever seeing him draw his wand, Snape shouted "Legilimens!" and Harry felt the all-too-familiar sensation of having his head invaded again.

He tried desperately to fight Snape's invasion, but paused when he realised that Snape was only seeing memories from Harry's time at St. George's. He recognised Dr. Mason and Nurse Bainbridge checking on his vitals and Draco hovering over his bedside. The conversation between Not-Tonks and Harry played again. He saw his parents flanking his sides, then Sirius laughing and enveloping him in a huge squeeze. Then he saw Draco putting on a shiny pink coat.

Oh, shit. Uh-uh. Not getting that one, you old pervert. Harry successfully pushed Snape out of his head, breaking the connection.

"Was that...the place?" Snape asked, trying to look unconcerned, but obviously a bit unnerved. Harry wondered if it was from seeing a completely different universe, from seeing two of his dead enemies alive or a combination of both.

Harry nodded. "That was St. George's. It's where I go when Voldemort opens the conduit - if that's what's really happening, that is. Started right after our last Occlumency lesson."

Snape gave a curt nod of his own. "The Headmaster informed me of that. He did not inform me that your parents were present. Or Black," he spat.

"I never had a chance to tell him. I told Hermione, though. I'm surprised she never discussed it with Professor Dumbledore."

"She may have. I am not privy to all of the Headmaster's conversations," said Snape, a touch of bitterness lacing voice.

"Mmm," Harry replied noncommittally. "Do you want to try this again? Not too much else happened, but it's strange we only saw those memories, isn't it?"

Snape nodded and asked Harry if he was ready, so Harry knew he was definitely a bit off his game. Neither, though, was prepared for what happened next.

"Legilimens!"

Lily Potter sat next to a bedside, crying. James Potter stood at her side, obviously fighting back tears himself. In the background, Harry could just make out a sullen Draco Malfoy staring into space.

Lily said desperately, "Come back to us, Harry! Please. We just found you. We can't lose you again."

Harry could now see that she was patting his own limp hand. He was watching his unconscious form.

James pleaded, "Harry, if you can hear us, please let us know you're all right."

I'm here! Harry tried calling out.

Draco then climbed out of his bed and quietly told the Potters, "This is all my fault." He then ran off, leaving the Harry's parents bewildered.

I'm here, I'm here! he tried again.

Abruptly, the scene ended as Snape broke the connection.

"Potter," he said sharply, "what was that?"

Harry swallowed nervously. "I think that was me in the hospital right now. I pass out here when I'm conscious there, but the reverse works, too. But...why can I see that? It doesn't make any sense!"

Snape looked grave, but didn't answer. It was obvious that he was deep in thought, but Harry didn't notice. He was too busy worrying about his parents and Draco. A familiar wave of doubt and guilt washed over him.

Later on, Ron came to escort Harry back to the hospital wing. Harry couldn't remember being more relieved to see another person in his life. Snape and Harry had spent much of the remaining time standing around looking awkwardly at one another. Harry was afraid to have another Legilimency spell cast on him and it didn't seem like Snape was all that eager to have another go himself.

Unsurprisingly, neither was interested in making small talk.

"Hello, Ron!" cried Harry when he opened the door to Snape's office. Ron and Snape both looked taken aback and Harry cleared his throat. "Time's up already?" he said in what he hoped was a more casual tone.

Ron nodded and Snape, still somewhat flustered, wished them a somewhat civil goodbye.

When they got into the hallway, Ron asked, "What's got into the two of you? He didn't insult me even once. And I was there for a whole minute! That has to be some sort of record."

Harry shrugged. "Don't want to talk about it. I've been thinking about it for the past hour. I'll just tell you it has to do with the institution and what Snape saw in the lesson."

For a second, Ron stopped moving, obviously curious. When Harry didn't stop with him, he ran alongside him to catch up, but didn't press the issue. Ron told Harry, "Hermione is waiting for you in the infirmary. She has some news - something she's working on with Flitwick, I think."

Indeed, Hermione was sitting on Harry's bed when they returned.

"Oh, Harry! Good. How did your lesson with Snape go?"

Harry shrugged. "It was a lesson with Snape," he said, as though this sufficiently answered the question.

Hermione ignored Harry's tone and continued. "Professors Flitwick and Snape and I have been working on your case. We're trying to figure out exactly how Voldemort is causing the conduit. I have a theory that a combination of protective charms and potions can sufficiently protect you from slipping out of reality. I don't know how it will affect the established connection you have with Voldemort, though."

Ron grinned. "So you think we'll have Harry back full-time then!"

Shocked, Harry sat on the bed. With Flitwick, Snape and Hermione on it, he knew a cure would be forthcoming. He knew how Hermione could be once she put her mind to it. Now Harry would lose the other world forever. He forced a smile onto his face and managed to say, "That's fantastic, Hermione. How close are you to figuring this out?"

"There's a still a lot of work to be done. We were hoping that tonight's Occlumency lesson would shed some light as to why this is happening. Did you and Professor Snape get anywhere with that?"

Harry managed a stricken nod. "He saw my memories of St. George's. Then he...he saw my parents crying over my bed. I was unconscious there, yet we could both see what was happening. I don't know why, though." Harry was nearly whispering.

Hermione nodded. "That's very helpful." She glanced at Ron and then back to Harry, concern on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just tired. Think I'm going to go to sleep, okay?"

Both of his friends nodded quickly. "We'll come see you tomorrow," said Hermione hopefully.

"All right. Good-night." Harry's tone was quiet, distracted.

When Ron and Hermione left, all Harry could focus on was the almost painful feeling of loss in his chest.

Harry Potter was bored out of his mind. Three days had passed without incident and he was sick of lounging around hospital wings. Since the Occlumency lesson Monday, he hadn't even the slightest voice in the back of his head indicating the existence of another world. He'd had several dreams about his parents and Sirius, along with a number of dreams about Draco coming to him in the night. He knew those were different. They just didn't have the real quality that defined his time at the hospital. Just dreams. Memories. Wisps of what might have been.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in, intent on checking Harry from head to toe. When she was finally satisfied, he cleared his throat. "Spit it out, Mr. Potter," said the nurse cheerfully.

"I was just wondering...uhm, is there any way I can go to class today? I feel fine. I haven't had an incident in days, either."

"Mr. Potter, while three may be lend itself to plural words, I don't think the emphasis you place on 'days' is all that accurate." But the stern nurse was smiling. "We'll make a deal. If you promise to have an escort at all times and not to exert yourself unduly, I think it would be all right if you attended your classes today."

Harry grinned. "I promise!" he readily agreed. He couldn't believe he was so excited to attend class, but monotony would do that to a person. "What do you mean by not exerting myself, though?"

"The usual things. No running about, nothing that would make you out of breath and absolutely no flying."

That last bit disappointed Harry, but he still agreed. Smiling slightly, Madam Pomfrey said, "I'll have Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger summoned."

Seeing Ron and Hermione's smiling faces only increased Harry's excitement. The trio returned to Gryffindor Tower to collect Harry's books and he revelled in the warmth of his dormitory for a moment before they headed off to the Great Hall for breakfast.

His good mood was dampened once he faced the entire student population. Oh, the Gryffindor table was fine. Seamus pounded Harry on the back, making him wince, and Ginny smiled so big he was sure she'd hurt her face. It was the mixed reactions of the other tables that worried him. He saw several Hufflepuffs with expressions of mixed fear and discomfort, though Ernie Macmillan waved boisterously. Tentatively, he waved back.

At the Ravenclaw table, Marietta Edgecombe looked at him with pure hatred, but that was nothing new. If anything, her more scathing looks were reserved for Hermione. Cho Chang pointedly ignored Harry completely - surprising him, as he thought they'd been friendlier to one another lately - and he thought several other members had disgust written on their faces. To think he'd have universal support would have been silly, he supposed. Any moves he'd made to ingratiate himself with the student population since last year were probably gone now. He'd just have to accept being seen as odd - probably for the rest of his life.

Most unexpected, however, was the distinct lack of reaction from the Slytherins. He would have expected an "Oi, Scarhead!", at the very least, but other than Crabbe and Goyle urgently nudging Draco Malfoy, there was nothing. Malfoy glanced up, but then became extremely interested in his eggs. Harry sighed and began to eat, willing himself not to glance at Draco again.

Harry was only mildly surprised when Luna Lovegood joined the Gryffindor table, instead of sitting with the Ravenclaws. She didn't normally separate herself from her house, but she seemed rather unconcerned by the confused looks from both the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws. But, at least outwardly, Luna wasn't usually concerned by what others thought of her.

Luna stared across the table, scrutinising him carefully. "Hello, Harry," she said serenely. "We're very glad to have you back with us."

"I know you are, Luna," he sincerely replied. "Believe me, it's much appreciated."

She smiled dreamily. "You know, Hermione and Ronald have kept me informed about what's going on with you. And of course, I was in the infirmary when you last woke. I find your situation quite fascinating."

"Fascinating? Does that mean you think I'd make an interesting zoo exhibit, too? Everyone come gawk at the Boy Who Lived to Be Unconscious?"

"You know, you sounded a bit like Myrtle just then." Luna sounded a bit amused.

Harry gaped at her. God, I am whining, aren't I? He shook his head. "Sorry, Luna. I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you mean well."

"Mean well. What an interesting phrase, don't you think? I don't believe I do mean very well, actually. Maybe I should. It seems like a valuable skill to possess." At this, Ron snickered into his hand. She turned to him and said, "Ronald, do you do mean well?"

"Well enough, I suppose," Ron retorted, unable to control a bit of laughter creeping into his voice. Hermione hit him lightly in the arm.

Ginny butted in, "Ronald does mean quite well. I should know. I've had years of experience with it. He's no match for Fred and George, though." This time, Ron leaned across the table and punched Ginny's arm lightly. She sighed tragically. "You see what I have to put up with?"

Harry smiled slightly and looked to Luna again, interested in where she was going with this. "Anyway," he said, drawing the conversation back to the topic at hand. "What was it you were saying, Luna?"

"Oh, yes. Your second world interests me quite a bit. You say there's no magic there at all?" She leaned forward slightly.

In case anyone was listening, Harry dropped his voice and said, "Nope, no magic at all. It's just what I thought the whole world was like before I came here. Except I wasn't in a hospital before."

Casually twirling her wand between her fingers, Luna said, "I've always wondered what it would be like to have no magic at all. I find your reality interesting."

"Reality?" retorted Harry. "Don't you mean my dream world? Remember, we're working on the premise that Voldemort created this as a means of keeping me out of the picture."

But all Luna said was "Mmm."

Hermione looked indignantly at her. "Are you saying you don't think our theory is correct?"

"Not at all, Hermione." She smiled in her vague way once again. "I just think there are always more possible realities than the one we're in. I imagine that sometimes if just one choice were made differently, the whole world would change. Also, just because someone wants something to be true, doesn't mean it can't be. Fantasy and reality are such blurred lines, don't you think?"

Philosophical questions like that told Harry that she'd certainly been put in the right house. He'd never given much thought to different possibilities existing all at once. "Luna, you're too smart for your own good," he said after a few seconds.

"Daddy says that all the time," she said brightly. "Did you know we're going hunting for Winged Scrapsons over Christmas holiday?"

As Hermione started to protest the creature's existence, Harry tuned out. Fantasy and reality can be blurry. The existence of Hogwarts is enough proof of that. Still deep in thought, he allowed Hermione to hustle him off to class.

For once, class completely grabbed Harry's interest. It wasn't so much that coursework had soared to new and inventive heights; he'd just missed his wand. Performing charms that actually worked was far different than waving a fork in the correct motions. Magic was a relief.

Feeling lighter and happier than he'd felt in ages, Harry felt his rebellious streak returning. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about the stipulations of his freedom, but Harry suspected Hermione might be able to guess Pomfrey ordered him away from his broom. However, he didn't think Ron would make that connection, so he when he grabbed his Firebolt from his trunk, he let Ron know he'd be out flying for a bit.

Mournfully, Ron looked up from the pile of books and parchment surrounding him. "Wish I could join you, mate, but I have a five foot Herbology essay that's already a few days overdue. No one expects you to be caught up yet."

Harry murmured his apologies and dashed out of Gryffindor Tower. Honestly, he was somewhat pleased Ron couldn't join him. He was craving the pure thrill flying gave him and wasn't interested in a pick-up Quidditch match. With days spent either in a world where magic doesn't exist or under Madam Pomfrey's hawk-like gaze, Harry needed the air.

The sky was partially overcast, but it wasn't raining or dark. Not the most ideal conditions, but Harry could make do. He squinted up at the sky and grinned. When he kicked off and started soaring through the air, he relished each loop and swoop. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes; the sensation of flying was pleasurable after such a long period of denial.

Harry found his thoughts drifting to his very first time on a broom. He remembered the ease of flying and how he'd found his first completely natural gift. McGonagall's voice echoed in his head, telling him that his father had been an excellent flyer, too. With a half-smile, he could remember the look of disdain on Malfoy's face when he'd received his Nimbus 2000. The boy's pale features screwed up in frustration and jealousy were still etched in his mind.

Pulling himself out of a dive, he recalled Wood teaching him the intricacies of the game. Briefly, he wondered how Oliver was doing for Puddlemere. The overwhelming joy of successfully catching the Snitch for the first time - even if it had been in his mouth - was still clear, even after all these years.

Things had been so easy then.

But no, they hadn't, had they? He still was practically raised in a closet. Bullies plagued his existence and the memories of Dudley's fists connecting with his face were as clear as the joy of holding his wand for the first time. Every good thing was tempered with a bad thing. For every first flying experience, there were two dead parents. For every adventure with a troll, there was a madman trying to plot his death. Two teachers working for Voldemort, actively trying to kill him. A rat in sheep's clothing. A dead classmate. A dead godfather.

Just then, Harry clearly heard Sirius's voice echo in his ears. "Harry!" Sirius called. "Wake up! We're here for you. We need you here. Please."

Harry felt himself getting light-headed, as though he might pass out. Remembering he was still on a broom, he forced himself to land, as the scenery grew dimmer. He could hear other voices now, too, but he didn't pass out. Sitting on the grass, broom at his side, he tried to focus on his surroundings.

The scenery kept fading and Harry felt like an unseen force was pulling him, yet he knew he couldn't possibly be moving. It was a sticky feeling, like being pulled through glue.

A light rain started falling on Harry's face, as the clouds finally opened up. Sirius's voice was replaced by James's. He implored his son to come back to them. James said he knew Harry fit in with them. Lily spoke, overlapping with James. "Harry," his mother said kindly. "Harry, my Harry." She kept repeating his name again. James's voice joined the chant.

Harry watched the colour leech from the landscape, feeling a soft caress on his hand. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

With a soft thud, Harry fainted on the grass.