What's happened so far:

IM 1 & 2, Harry and Snape learn they Snape is Harry's father and although they end up trying to ignore the fact, circumstances (Dursleys dying and the Ministry attempting to find a guardian for him themselves) Snape takes guardianship over him. The Voices, unknown to anyone involved who they actually are, start talking to Harry and Severus does his best to help Harry escape them only to learn that when he was in school, he promised the Voices that a child of his would be under their control because he never wanted any children in the first place. Eventually, they do manage to separate Harry from them (mostly). During school, Severus encourages Harry in his studies and Harry pushes himself (first because the Voices are trying to prepare him).

After school, Harry tests for his Potions Mastery (and passes) and starts training to be an auror. During a practice assignment to determine why a picture of the Dursleys was being carried by a random person in the wizarding world. He's kidnapped and held in a room for several months by Mulciber, one of Voldemort's favorite torturers who's known for 'brainwashing' people.

After Harry is rescued, he is brought to St. Mungos, which they find to be mostly controlled by Death Eaters, so they must sneak out. Harry started to see a talking cat during his time with Mulciber (although he was blind during the time, so he only knew it was a cat because the Voices took it from his memories with his parents).

After a long sleep, Harry wakes up with no/very little memory of what's happened in the past few months because of precautions Mulciber took. Severus and Remus are no longer on the best of term. The cat convinces Harry to go to Hogwarts and into the Forbidden Dungeon (where the Voices seem to reside).

This chapter starts when Harry had just left the Dungeon.

Chapter 17 - Decisions

Harry stood, but he didn't move anywhere. He supposed he could go back to his room and sleep; he was rather exhausted, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to. His dad was probably still working and he wasn't in any sort of mood to go to the library or anything, and since he wasn't sure if he was allowed to visit his friends during the school day - he was only a visitor, after all - he was sure that left almost nothing to do.

Harry stopped and looked up, realizing he had walked to the Entrance Hall in his musings. Sighing, he decided to walk down to the quidditch pitch with the hope that there was a game or practice going on he could watch.

There wasn't, so he found himself leaning against one of the goal poles, thinking that it might be fun to fly around up there again. Wondering what he was going to do at Hogwarts for an entire week if he wasn't allowed to fly, Harry started looking for Madam Hooch who, after trudging all the way to her office and back, turned out to be in the broom shed the entire time.

He walked up behind her, a little suspicious that he hadn't seen anyone - not a student, professor or even Filch's cat - but decided they must be in class or something, then he realized he didn't know what day it actually was.

"No students allowed down here until . . . Oh. Mr. Potter," she said, turning around. "That's a surprise. I had expected you to be yet another student asking a question. I didn't know you were at Hogwarts." She eyed him suspiciously, and Harry realized he still felt like a student, no matter that he wasn't one any longer.

"I'm visiting my dad," he gave as his reason for being there. She nodded, but she didn't look to believe him.

"Are you well?" she asked, and Harry nodded.

"I'm fine, Madam Hooch. Just visiting." There was an uncomfortable pause in which Harry debated going back to the castle and opting to take a nap, but the flying instructor spoke again.

"I heard you were in training to become an auror. Is that still your plan, or have you decided to look at other occupations? It was in the news about your potions mastery. I'm sure there are plenty of people willing to hire for potions."

Harry felt a surge of annoyance at that. "I'm still in the auror training program," He told her, hearing the annoyance come out in his tone, he sighed inwardly. "It's what I want to do."

She nodded. "I suppose a break would be in order, though. Of course," she said, answering her own question. "You know, we have an ex-auror visiting right now. Visiting the headmaster, I suppose, and working on wards. Something like that. But perhaps you'd like to speak with him? He's a chatty fellow with lots of stories. I heard him talking to Severus, and I remember him saying he'd like to meet you."

"Oh," Harry replied, not sure if he wanted to talk to someone who wanted to meet Harry Potter.

"Oh, not like that," she said, and Harry thought what he was thinking must have shown on his face. "He said something to the effect of wanting to meet someone with as much talent and ambition as yourself. Of course . . ." Hooch paused, as if searching for the right words. "You were missing at the time, so Severus refused to say much on the topic."

"Oh," Harry said again, looking back at the castle and feeling a bit guilty. He never really gave much thought to how his dad must have been feeling about all this. But then, Harry wasn't exactly sure what 'all this' was about. Just bits and pieces of stuff here and there, and . . . Feelings he couldn't get rid of.

The feelings were probably the worst, yet he still couldn't understand what they were.

"Yes," she said quickly. "Well, Mr. Tippart is usually working in the antechamber off the Great Hall. If he's there, I'm sure he wouldn't mind a brief interruption." Pausing again, she gave Harry another questioning look. "Was there a reason you were here?"

"Oh. I was . . . wondering if I would be able to borrow a broom for a quick fly, is all."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid that wouldn't work right now. There's to be a practice in an hour, and I have much to prepare. Everything seems to be failing right now, especially our bludgers. They've been spinning in place instead of going in the direction they've been hit and none of the students are attesting to hexing them. I really should go see someone for help. You wouldn't have experience with that sort of thing, by chance?"

"No, ma'am," Harry answered, not finding a lot of energy to be able to laugh at seeing such a thing. "Thank you, anyway."

Harry turned and left the shed, deciding that he'd stop by the antechamber to see if anyone was there, and maybe afterwards, watch the quidditch practice. On the way to the castle, Harry reached for his pocket absentmindedly, realizing he didn't have his wand. Sure, it had been awhile since he's used it, but he didn't even remember to bring it along? He debated going back to his room to search for it, but when he got back to the school, the cat joined him.

"Where are you going?" the cat asked.

"Don't you know?" Harry asked back.

"I don't know everything," was the reply, and Harry shook his head, not making sense of it. Sometimes it seemed the cat could read his mind, and then there were times like these. Still, something seemed off, but he put it to the back of his mind as he stopped in front of the open door to the antechamber. There was a man inside, with a lot of scrolls on the one table currently adorning the room. He hesitated, but ended up knocking on the door frame.

The man looked up, a look on his face that told Harry he was about to tell the intruder off, but he instead straightened up.

"My word," he said quietly. "It's Harry Potter."

Harry had the sudden urge to duck out just then, but the cat walked into the room, and Harry stopped himself. Not because the cat probably wanted him to talk to the man to see who he was, but because the man looked down at the cat.

That didn't feel right. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence.

"I'm sorry, how terribly rude of me. I am Marcus Tippart. What brings you here?" Harry took a step forward, not sure if he liked the carefulness this man was taking with his words.

"I'm visiting my father," Harry replied. A simple enough answer, Harry determined. There was a slight pause before Tippart responded.

"Are you staying long?"

"Not very, no."

"Oh." Another pause where Harry wondered if this really was a good idea. "So, tell me, Potter - something I have been wondering - why would a young man such as yourself - someone who has extreme talent in potions - wish to become an auror? If I understand it, you've been nearly killed and have been kidnapped many times, this last one sounding by far the most hazardous and during a routine training assignment, no less! Surely you've gotten tired of all the danger."

"I . . . er . . . I just . . ." Harry paused, trying to get this thoughts together. "It's what I want to do. And I don't really like potions. And I'm better at defense."

"Right. Well, I don't wish to turn you off, but I feel I must warn you; Of all the aurors-in-training I have met, among those who have strong talents in other fields, there has only been one who actually did become an auror. He quit two years later and enrolled in a muggle university because he came to dislike his job so much. He was good, but his heart wasn't in it, you see."

"My heart's in it," Harry responded quickly before he realized those words didn't sound the same coming from his own mouth. "I want to become an auror."

"And what do you think an auror's job entails?"

"Protecting people . . ." Harry answered hesitantly.

"I suppose, in a round about way. Sure, there are the occasional bodyguard situations, but as an auror, you don't see much of what you are protecting. You see the dark side of people, and little much besides. Is that something you think you can handle?"

"Of course," Harry answered, but the more the words sunk he, he started having doubts. Still, he wanted to be an auror. He knew he would be protecting people, and the thought should be enough.

The man nodded, seemingly pleased with something, but he changed the topic. "Is that your cat?"

"Oh, er . . . yeah," Harry answered, surprised that the man actually did see it. "Sort of. I found him recently, and he won't stop following me around."

"Actually, I found you. Took me long enough, too. And this form is female," the cat said, and Harry tried to ignore it. He didn't care about the gender, anyway.

"Have you checked that he is really a cat?" Tippart asked, and Harry nodded, although he hadn't. Besides, he didn't know if it would tell him anything, as the cat wasn't real to begin with. Not really. "Good. You're aware, that's a good sign. Well, I must be getting back to work, but before you go, I was wondering if you might be interested in taking dinner with me tonight. You may bring your father with you, of course, but I was hoping to talk with you some more, and it's been awhile since I've had a decent sit-down dinner with anyone besides Albus, and I'm afraid we've run out of new conversations of late."

"I . . ." Harry stopped. Yes, he was a stranger, but a friend of the headmasters, apparently. And if his dad was along - or thought it was safe enough for Harry to go alone - he didn't see why he shouldn't. Tippart was different than other aurors Harry had met, so perhaps he had different kinds of stories.

"If it helps you make your decision, I merely wish to talk and meet someone new. I have a feeling there is much more to you than I can see, and I do love solving a mystery . . . or hearing good stories, if nothing else."

"Alright," he answered quietly, having a strange, childish feeling that by agreeing softly, he wasn't agreeing at all.

"Well, I think it's a good idea," the cat said suddenly. "But first, I think you should buy me a cat box. And food; I don't want to hunt. To think . . . me, hunting. For now, though, you can let me outside. Hurry up, finish the conversation and let me out. I'm sure there must be ways for cats to get outside, but I don't want to waste time looking for them." Harry looked down at the cat. Cat box? Out of confusion rather than curiosity, Harry leaned down and touched the top of the cat's head, only to bring back his hand rather quickly.

He didn't think the cat was going to be solid. He was sure, before, that it wasn't. And now it wanted him to buy things for it?

"Good, good," Tippart said. "Now, I'm not usually this rude - it's been a strange day, you see - but I must have you leave. Six o'clock, perhaps? Fourth floor, west wing, next to a rather pretty painting of a lady.

Harry left, letting the cat out the front doors. Hoping the cat couldn't get back inside, Harry went to his room. Unfortunately, half an hour of sitting on the couch wondering what he could do next - he was tired, but still didn't want to go to bed - there was a scratching at the door and when he opened it, the cat darted in.

Harry closed the door with a sigh.

Harry waited in the chair facing the door to the corridor, waiting for his father to get back. He was agitated from the cat staring at him all day and felt that any sudden movement or noise would cause him to started, even though he was prepared. Thankfully, Severus entered the room rather preoccupied and Harry calmed a bit. Nothing was unusual.

"Hi, Dad," Harry said, standing up to realize he had been sitting for much too long. Severus gave him an odd look.

"Have you been sitting there all day?" he asked, probably because Harry couldn't seem to stretch enough to be comfortable. Both their attentions were diverted when the cat jumped up on table. "Why is there a cat here? It isn't one of the students, is it?"

"No, I . . ." Harry was going to say he found the cat, but as simple as it was to lie to Tippart, he wasn't sure he wanted to lie to his father. He opened his mouth to tell him about the Voices when the cat spoke up.

"You will not tell him about us," it said. "It will ruin everything."

"It's just a stray that's been following me around," Harry said instead, deciding he will tell his father the truth when the cat wasn't around. He'd . . . lock it outside again or something.

His fathers reaction was to throw a charm at the cat, who jumped up and hid under the couch.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly stunned.

"Simply reassuring myself that it was a cat and not someone in their animagus form. From your reaction, I'm assuming you had not done the same."

"Well, no, but . . ." But what? Harry wondered.

"Harry, with all that has happened, you really need to be more careful. You are sure it belongs to no one?"

"I'm sure," Harry said. It was the one thing he was sure of.

"Are you planning on keeping it?"

"Er . . . I guess," Harry answered, although he didn't like the idea of making a mind-controlling cat his pet. "I . . . need to get it . . . her . . . a cat box and food, though . . . I don't think she has much interest in hunting or the outdoors, from what I've seen today." Harry felt terrible lying to his father in this way, but with the Voice in the back of his head, he felt he had no choice. "And I met . . . er . . . Marcus Tippart earlier. He wants to have dinner to talk and he says you're invited. Will you? Come?"

Severus looked at him with a strange look, and Harry couldn't help sitting again. "I have no wish to be with Tippart for any longer than necessary; I find him annoying and invasive. If you do have dinner with him, tell him that . . . I have prior engagements. With assignment grading, it will be true enough." With a flick of his wand, Severus sent a pile of parchment roles to the table, where they neatly stacked themselves. Harry sat quietly while his father's eyes seemed to bore into him for a few minutes before his father spoke again. "Harry, have you seen this cat before today? Before we could see it?"

"I . . . don't know," Harry finished, having to close his eyes to prevent his dad from seeing his lies. "She's familiar, though," he decided to add, and Severus nodded slowly, suspicion in his eyes.

"Still . . . If you are going to keep the cat and you want supplies, we might as well go now. That is . . . if you wish me to come along."

"Yes!" Harry calmed himself. He wasn't sure why he felt so anxious at the idea of going to Hogsmede alone. Well, maybe he did. "I mean, I do. I was going to ask if you wanted to come. Are you . . ." Harry stopped. He was going to ask if Severus was sure he wasn't going to come to dinner with him tonight - he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be alone with him too long if Severus didn't like him - but his father must have thought it was safe enough because he was allowing him to go alone.

Harry looked at Severus and saw that he was still giving him that look, and Harry still wasn't sure what to make of it.

"What?" he asked.

"Harry . . . I'm wondering . . . you mentioned a cat when we were at the hospital. A talking cat that belonged to your mother . . ." Harry saw his dad glance at the cat. "You mentioned that it followed you around while you were kidnapped."

"I did?" Harry thought out loud. He didn't remember that. Actually, he couldn't really remember being at the hospital in the first place, although it made sense that he had been. Harry looked at the cat himself. Maybe the cat wasn't one of the Voices. Maybe the cat was from the man. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Harry? Does the cat talk to you?"

"No . . ." Harry said slowly, feeling something knot up in his stomach.

"Harry?" Harry pulled his gaze from the cat to find his father staring at him. He looked worried. "Please, tell me the truth."

Opening his mouth, Harry felt his gut clench tighter, and he found it hard to breath. He didn't want to lie to his father about this.

"Oh, fine just tell him if you're going to have a panic attack about it. Just don't tell him any plans. And don't let him get rid of us. Me. I am staying with you."

He looked at the cat before looking back and his father, and he finally settled on a spot on the floor and brought his legs up.

"Harry." There was a hand on his shoulder, but Harry didn't look up.

"The cat talks," Harry said. "I . . ." He didn't know what else to say.

"Harry, if you think the cat has anything to do with Mulciber . . ."

"It's not! It's . . . one of the Voices," Harry said quietly enough that he wasn't sure himself if he had said it or not.

"Harry," Severus said, pulling Harry's chin up to make him look at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched the cat leave the room.

"She's watching over me," Harry explained. "I don't like the cat being around but . . . I . . . need . . ." A deep breath. "Look, I know I sound crazy, with talking cats and Voices and everything, but the cat isn't going to hurt me. And they're sort of angry with us right now and I'm feeling empty and I think she'll help me."

"With what?"

"I don't know. Just . . . Dad, all the cat's been doing has been following me around. And aside from telling me to go back to the Forbidden Dungeon, she hasn't told me to do anything, and she's not going to force me to do anything. She can't. They aren't in my head anymore. And they aren't going to hurt me. If they wanted to, I think I would be."

Severus took a step back, releasing Harry's chin, but his son didn't look away. "Why did it leave?"

"What? I don't know. To let us talk, maybe." Harry stayed quiet after that, and Severus paced slowly, unsure of what to do. It was one thing after another, and everything was horrible in their own right. Harry was still nowhere near recovery from what it was that Mulciber had done to him and now the Voices were trying to assert their control on him again.

Feeling anger build up, he ignored the voice in his head telling him that it was possible Harry survived Mulciber mostly intact because of the Voices, and that Severus would never have been able to find him had they not worked so hard in separating themselves from the Voices earlier.

"I don't like this. I don't understand this," he finally said, turning to kneel in front of Harry's chair. "After everything we did to separate ourselves from these Voices and you go back to their dungeon and ruin it all?" Harry stayed silent. "You say they aren't going to hurt you, but you don't know that. Why do they want you so badly?"

The young man gave a half shrug, looking at his lap and Severus couldn't stop the sigh.

"Did they give you any clue at all?" Severus heard the anger in his own voice now, but he didn't do anything to hide it. Harry had to understand the there was possible danger when dealing with entities they knew nothing about.

The cat came back into the room and Harry looked over at it. Severus used the distraction to think. At St. Mungo's, Harry had said the cat started following him after his 'mother' talked to him. If that was true, then the Voices - or Voice, as there was only probably one involved in this - had either found Harry when he was with Mulciber or had been with him the entire time.

Severus tried to remember something - anything - about when he was in the Voices' 'employment'. He knew he never heard then in his head or in his ear - the potion that was snuck to Harry his sixth year was the cause for that connection - but they had to have had some way of keeping an eye on him. Perhaps when they severed Harry from them, they could only be as close to him as they were to everyone else they controlled.

In his weakened state - because Severus decided that it must the only reason they didn't manifest themselves to his son before - one of them must have chosen a form and that form must have solidified in the Forbidden Dungeon.

"The cat said to tell you that . . ." Harry paused, and Severus focused on his son once again. "The cat said that I was chosen for a reason and because we stopped the connection too early, I won't be ready for what I'm supposed to do and it will be harder for me to do everything on my own."

Severus stared at his son, wondering how they got to the point where Harry had accepted that someone believed he simply wasn't up to the task. In the past, those sort of comments would have angered the young man, but now . . . Harry seemed to agree.

"Before, they were telling me what to do and they didn't get to teaching me to make my own decisions."

"Are you listening to yourself speak?" Severus asked harshly. It was several long moments before the boy spoke up.

"I feel lost."

Another pause.

"Harry, you don't remember the past few months of your life. It's natural that you would feel lost.

"I felt lost before, dad. I felt like I didn't know where I was going so I kept . . . I don't know! Just . . ." Harry flung his hands up, and Severus sighed, running his hand though his hair once. Again, he was at a loss of what to do.

"With everything that has happened - and now this - I don't know how good your judgment is at the moment." Severus made his decision with the knowledge that he will come to regret it. "The cat can stay. If you go back to the manor, I suppose the cat will go with you, but . . ." Severus almost bit his tongue with what he was going to say. "Lupin will be informed. Harry, if the Voices want you to do something, you will come to me first, understand?" Severus watched his son nod slowly. Feeling foolish, Severus held his wand and turned toward the cat, who hadn't moved since it came into the room. "Anything you want him to do will go through me."

A small pause before Harry spoke. "The cat said okay but . . ." Harry looked down again, his words following mumbled, "said you aren't to interfere in something important."

Severus sighed again, feeling completely out of control of the most important things in his life.

He didn't care what he promised the Voices when he was a child. Harry was his, and he would not let him go.

"Let's go to Hogsmede," he said, standing up. "The cat stays here."

Severus suggested walking to Hogsmede but his son insisted that they take a carriage in order to be back in time for dinner.

Thinking of it, he wasn't entirely sure he should forego the meal himself. He knew the man could be trusted not to harm Harry, but the young man was easily influenced - if the new situation with the Voices was any indication - and that man had a way of speaking his thoughts all too much. Severus, though, couldn't bring himself to spend the time a dinner took to be with Tippart. Harry would be fine, he reasoned, and he had work to complete as it had built up during the time he took off.

Again, Severus sighed as the feeling of helplessness overtook him again and as they rode into Hogsmede, he looked over at his son. He knew killing the cat would do nothing; it seemed they would never be rid of the Voices.

"What shop sells cat supplies?" Harry asked suddenly.

"There's a pet shop near the center of the town. They should sell everything there."

It was in the doorway of the shop that an idea came to Severus; a way to prevent Harry from becoming too attached to the cat, as it was not a real cat to become attached to. Before he spoke, though, he told Harry to gather what he needed before he went to find a shop attendant.

"Do you sell kittens here?" Severus asked before the young lady could greet him.

"Of course," she said, pointing to a corner of the store. "Would you like a look?"

"Soon."

Feeling slightly rude, Severus left the girl to find Harry comparing cat toys. Now, he simply needed to have Harry choose cats without him suggesting the idea.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He was rushing this. He wouldn't have Harry choose the cats himself, he would give them as gifts. Still feeling rushed - and completely out of place - Severus went back to the attendant.

"I would like to see the kittens," he told her. She smiled politely and brought him to a back room, opening a large door on the wall that held a small room of maybe ten or so kittens.

"Are you looking to buy one?"

"Two," Severus said sharply. "If you don't mind."

"Of course." The girl left, closing the gated door behind her. Severus turned back to the cats and wondered if this really was a good idea, and decided he didn't have much of a choice. It was either this or something else to divert Harry's attention away from the Voices.

And, Severus thought, the boy needs something.

In the end, Severus chose two kittens who were playfully fighting each other - one black with splashes of orange color and one orange with white and black splotches. He made sure the rest were in the room, closed the door behind him, and gave the kittens to the girl so he could pick up a few other things without Harry seeing he was carrying around a couple of cats.

A large basket, a carrier, a few odds and ends and a bag of kitten food later, Severus paid for everything, shrunk everything but the cats and called to Harry that he would meet him in the carriage. It surprised Severus when Harry came out only a few minutes later.

Harry paid for his things before rushing out to the carriage, but he approached his father cautiously.

"Is something wrong?" he asked before getting in.

"No. I simply wished to not carry around kittens while waiting for you."

Severus' voice was suspiciously flat.

And there was the matter of kittens.

"What kittens?" Harry asked as Severus took his purchases from him.

"I felt," Severus said, "in addition to your owl, you could use some animal companions to keep you company. Cats are supposed to help relax you, and if you go back to the manor, you will need something to keep you company."

"Remus will be there," Harry pointed out, feeling offended on his friend's behalf. "Did you just decide this?" he wondered. It wasn't like his dad to make sudden decisions like that.

"I have been debating the benefits for a couple days now," was the answer, and Harry couldn't help but feel the statement was forced out. "After everything you went through, you need a distraction." There was an 'are you telling me you don't want the cats?' feeling to the statement.

"After everything I've went though," Harry echoed. "You said that before. I'm not going to suddenly crack and kill everyone, you know. In any case, I don't even remember anything about what happened. As far as I know, he put me in a room and lavished me with gifts!"

"Get in the carriage," Severus said shortly and Harry complied and they started back towards Hogwarts. "Harry, not remembering can actually be worse," he continued, his voice sounding less stressed. "We have no idea what he did to you. This man - Mulciber - specializes in torturing with control as the end result. You could be complying with what he wants without even realizing." They rode in silence for a few minutes before Severus spoke up again, his voice soft. "I did not buy you cats because I am afraid of you breaking. I bought them because I want you to be happy and comfortable."

"Can I see them?" Harry asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Of course," he answered, picking up the carrier and setting it in Harry's lap. Harry peeked inside.

"They're so small."

"Kittens often are."

"Oh . . . I didn't get anything for kittens. Only things for . . ." Harry trailed off.

"Do not worry," he replied, and Harry saw his father pat his pocket.

"So . . ." Harry looked at his watch. "Oh, it's good we left when we did. I'll have time to set everything up for them before I have to go to dinner."

They rode the rest of the way home in silence, and Harry had the feeling he said something wrong.

"It's not much of a dinner," Tippart said after a moment's silence at the table, "but I've been finding myself liking food less and less the older I get. Chicken and rice seems to be the best I can stomach, if you can believe that."

"It's fine," Harry answered, his thoughts still on the look the cat's face when he had set down the cat carrier in the living room. Tippart didn't seem to notice the awkward silence as he ate a few bites.

"I suppose recent events aren't up for discussion, so what to talk about . . ."

"Er . . ."

"How old are you now?"

"Eighteen . . ." Harry answered and Tippart nodded.

"Have you gave any thought to what I said earlier about being an auror?"

"A little," Harry admitted.

"Good, good," Tippart said. "So, there has been a lot of rumors about you and you know who. I assume most of it is false, but what isn't?"

"Er-"

"No, never mind. That's not important. It's just a little something I've been wondering myself, really. If I had a dark lord out for my blood, I would have tried to stop him as soon as I felt myself capable. It must be horrible, having him looming over you even when you aren't directly threatened." At this point, Tippart seemed more as if he were talking to himself rather than Harry, but Harry couldn't stop the 'yeah' that escaped through his mouth.

There were times in which Harry felt like that.

"Yes, I think I would have most definitely taken care of it."

"How would-"

"And especially now, when you were right in their grasp and taken away so suddenly . . . They will probably be looking for you even harder than before. Of course they'll want you back. I've dealt with people of this sort. Especially since they'll be looking for anything to please you know who, and if it takes killing a hundred innocent people to get to you, they will."

"Er . . ." Harry said again when Tippart finally stopped talking and he was sure the look on his face wasn't calm. For a brief second he felt panic, but he managed to quell the feeling. "I don't know," he continued, not really sure he wanted to dwell on what Tippart had said. "I mean . . . it's not my job to stop Voldemort. At least, not yet. Besides, I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm still training, and he's had so much more experienced than me. I've just been lucky."

"Perhaps, although you never do know until you try, do you?" Tippart paused. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course it's not your responsibility. I am sorry, I am only rambling, as I tend to do. Don't be afraid to stop me if I do that again. Of course it's not your responsibility. What you should be doing - if you still wish to - is continue your training. I hear you are under Shacklebolt. Good teacher, him. Of course, laying low is probably an even better course of action. I would think continuing training at the Ministry would be too dangerous, especially with St. Mungo's mostly under you know who's control."

"What?" What? "St. Mungo's?"

"You haven't heard? It was the day you were rescued, in fact. As far as we know, no one was hurt, and they seemed to make sure most wouldn't notice. It appeared to have been a slow process, I'm sure, and a very strategic move. They're smarter this time around. It would be nice to know at least part of their plan, though, because I have a feeling their next move will be bigger. Stopping it should be the focus of the Order and the Ministry." He paused. "Oh, dear me. I've done it again. This isn't what I planned on talking with you about at all! I wanted to hear fun stories. You must have plenty from your potions studying! Potions always seemed to come out wrong for me . . ."

The rest of dinner was simply Tippart prying what he considered funny or exciting stories from Harry, but Harry's thoughts were no longer with the man - or on the cat. Tippart didn't seem to notice, though.

Harry couldn't get what Tippart said out of his mind despite telling himself that doing anything would be foolish.

Even though he was probably the only one who could do something about it.

By the end of dinner, all Harry wanted to do was go to sleep and ignore everything that was happening.

His dad was at the table when Harry got back, and Harry sat down in his usual chair, feeling worn out. Harry wanted to remember what had happened with the man, what exactly happened, but all he could remember was pain and hunger and . . . kindness. It made no sense.

"Harry," his dad said, and Harry looked up, his vision blurry from tears. He couldn't help but feeling that, although the memories were unclear, they almost felt more real than this.

A hand on his shoulder, and Harry felt he couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. He felt completely blank. His father was speaking to him - he could see lips moving - but no sound seemed to overcome the pounding rush in his ears. Harry wanted to tell him something, but he couldn't and he wasn't alright.

He opened his mouth to say something - anything - but instead, Harry felt his throat close and his chest tighten and his stomach jump. He felt it, he knew it. . . . He was going to die. Spots of blank started dotting his vision when suddenly, there was a cool feeling on his lips, then in his mouth. He felt fingers on his throat, and all too slowly, he was able to breathe again.

Harry must have closed his eyes because he opened them to find his father in front of him, watching closely.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked, and he felt hands prying his clenched fingers from the upholstery. He let go, realizing his fingers were numb and when he stretched them they began to tingle.

"I'm alright," he whispered automatically but thinking better of it, he corrected himself. "Better," he said a little louder. "I'm better."

"Perhaps you should rest for a bit. We can talk later."

"No, I . . . well, maybe." Severus helped him up and Harry walked to his room. In his doorway, he turned around. "Uh, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the cats," he said before closing the door behind him, not knowing exactly why he did it so quickly.

The cat was in the room, staring at him.

"You are planning something," the cat said.

"No," Harry said, feeling that it was a lie. "I'm not planning anything." But I should be, he thought.

"What did that man tell you?"

"Nothing," he told the cat, trying to shrug it off. Only the truth.