A/N: I am really really sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter finished but I am awfully busy these days. I hope it is worth the long wait.

Disclaimer: All characters are JK Rowling's save for my specially developped species of demons and minor characters such as the inn keeper and guests. ;-) Again, I nicked some quotes for this chapter, this time from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Beyond the Shadows of the Night

Chapter Seven: Losing Control

When Harry and Sirius arrived behind the Quidditch changing rooms early next morning, Snape was already there. He was leaning against the wooden wall, with his arms crossed and wearing a scowl. A rather battered-looking broomstick was propped up next to him.

"You are late," he said by way of a morning greeting.

"And a very good morning to you too!" Sirius replied wryly. Then he spotted the broomstick. "Are you going to fly with that?" he asked incredulously, pointing at the broom, his mocking tone completely forgotten.

"Why not!"

"Well, as soon as you break your neck, Harry and I will have a party," Sirius said, "because that broom certainly won't survive such a long journey. Look at the tail. Half the twigs have already fallen out."

"Don't let my problems worry you, Black," Snape said icily.

"Is this broom a family heirloom or is Dumbledore paying you so little that you can't afford anything better?" Sirius mocked.

"This broom is school property," Snape said coldly.

"What? You don't even have an own broomstick?" Sirius smothered a laugh. "But on second thought -- no surprise actually. With your flying skills I wouldn't touch one either. I'm surprised you even dare to mount this one."

Snape gave him a hooded glare. "Spare your breath, Black," he said acidly. "You might need it sooner than you think." He pushed himself off the wall and snatched his broomstick. "May we leave now if you're in the mood?" he asked impatiently.

Harry and Sirius both mounted their brooms -- Harry his Firebolt and Sirius his new Nimbus 2002 -- and kicked off from the ground, Snape following a good deal later, due to some starting problems.

"Which direction?" Sirius shouted over to Snape.

"South."

Off they went. The sun that had only just began to rise in the blue eastern sky gilded the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and turned the Great Lake to molten silver. From this height the lake looked like a single tear, shed by a god.

Harry had a lot of fun zooming through the chill morning air, racing Sirius, while beneath them the countryside changed. One by one the ragged grey mountains that surrounded Hogwarts were left behind, followed by lush green meadows, dark forests and golden fields.  Countless small villages with tiny little houses passed by, and streets thin like threads snaked their way through the landscape.

Snape had put a Concealment Charm on the three of them, protecting their odd appearance from Muggle eyes.

"Shall we tow you, Snape?" Sirius called tauntingly over his shoulder, hovering in mid-air above a dark coniferous forest, while the speck on the horizon that was Harry's Potions Master slowly grew larger. "At this rate it'll take us a week until we're there."

"Shut up, Black!" came the angry snarl from afar. "And keep your witless remarks to yourself."

"Look who's talking," Sirius muttered.

Harry and Sirius waited until Snape had caught up with them. Obviously, his ancient broom couldn't keep up with Sirius's and Harry's. It seemed to put him to a lot of trouble and kept drifting off course or lost height at every gust of wind.

Sirius shook his head in mock pity. "You couldn't have found a broom in a worse condition, could you?"

"This was the only one available," Snape said curtly. "And now go on. We have to be in Godric's Hollow until sunset."

Harry heard Sirius give an indignant reply to that but he didn't take in the words. They were flying to Godric's Hollow, Snape had said. The village where his parents had lived ...

"We are going to Godric's Hollow?" Harry interrupted Sirius's and Snape's argument.

Suddenly everyone was very quiet.

"Yes," said Sirius shortly. Harry noticed that he pressed his lips tightly together.

"Why haven't you told me?"

"I ... well ... I didn't want to upset you. You've got so much to think about right now."

For a moment they flew in silence. Questions where whirling inside Harry's head. What would the village where his parents had lived be like? He had never seen it. Would he be able to see their house? If it still existed, that was. From what he had been told of Voldemort's assault fifteen years ago there might have been nothing left but ruins. But maybe he could at least visit his parents' grave if they were buried near the village.

He was just about to ask Sirius when there was a resounding crack, a strangled cry and Harry saw a startled Snape falling towards the ground together with his broomstick snapped in half.

Harry reacted instantly. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the falling Snape, crying "Wingardium Leviosa!" To his astonishment, however, the spell did not work. No sparks erupted from the wand tip and Snape was still falling like a stone. For all the effect his wand had, it might have been an ordinary piece of wood. Sending mud flying into the air, Snape splashed into a bog at the edge of a forest.

Seconds later, Harry and Sirius landed on the shore. Sirius laughed so hard, he had nearly fallen off his broom as well. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he doubled up, guffawing loudly. Despite an uneasy feeling Harry couldn't help joining in.

"I told you!" Sirius called out between snorts of laughter, while Snape cursed loudly. "I told you!"

"Before you laugh your heads off," came Snape's furious voice from the bog, "kindly help me out of here." He stood waist-deep in the slough, unable to move so much as one inch and sinking slowly but steadily deeper.

Sirius picked something up from the ground, smirking. It was Snape's wand that had fallen out of his pocket during the fall. "Nasty feeling to be so helpless and dependent on my mercy, isn't it, Snape?" Sirius's smirk deepened as he twirled the wand between his fingers. "I can't think of one single good reason why I shouldn't let you croak in there."

Snape was seething. "How about this one: You two have no idea where to go or what to do without me. I am the one in charge whereas you, Black, are nothing short of a mass murderer on the run, hindering the whole expedition."

Sirius went rigid. "Who's the mass murderer here, Snape?" he whispered dangerously. His face was dark red. Harry had never seen his godfather so angry before. "I ask you, Snape: Who is the mass murderer? Take back that accusation or I swear, I won't lift a finger to help you -- Dumbledore or no Dumbledore. He's not here to help you now. It would be very easy for me, you know. It would look just like an accident." He was smiling insanely and Harry had the uneasy feeling that Sirius meant every word of what he said. "Your death is already overdue. How many lives have you destroyed? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? You should have received the Dementor's kiss long ago. And your vile intention to have me kissed two years past even though I was innocent is only a further reason. You are a monster, Snape. And a coward on top of it. It would be almost a shame to let you die so easily and painless."

Harry thought he could see a flicker of fear in Snape's dark eyes. "And how exactly do you intend to proceed without me if you allow the question?" he sneered, trying hard to retain an air of superiority, but the fact that he was standing waist-deep in the quagmire somewhat spoilt the effect. "Dumbledore would undoubtedly be interested in your excuses. I'm curious to know how he would take your breach of his trust. If you let me die, even he has a reason to send you back to Azkaban. What is more likely, of course, is that this time the Dementors perform their Kiss on you immediately. If you consider my death to be worth that fate, then I have obviously misjudged you, Black."

There was a profound silence and Harry knew that Snape had won. Sirius's and Snape's eyes were interlocked in a mutual stare of such intense hatred that the belated ladybird that happened to buzz through this intangible connection of ill-will should have withered on the spot. It was impossible to say who of them bore more hatred of the other or who was more intransigent. As ironical as it was to think that about two people who hated each other with a passion, but in that moment Harry found that they were very similar.

Sirius was the first to break eye-contact. Abruptly, he made a few paces to where a dry bough lay on the ground, snatched it up and held it out for Snape to grasp. "For the cause," he said curtly, "not for you." Glowering, Snape took it and inch by inch, Sirius pulled him out of the bog.

Harry smiled as he watched. Sirius's and Snape's hate might be ever so strong, but they would never betray Dumbledore for the sake of their own grudges. The smile, however, soon disappeared from Harry's face -- he was holding his wand in his hand. And this time he was dead sure that he hadn't taken it out of his pocket.

No! Harry thought. Please! Not again!

But whatever had control over him did not listen. His hand was glued to the wand and moved slowly and relentlessly forward as if someone was pulling at the other end. He would not have been able to drop the wand if he had wanted to.

The wand pointed at Sirius who had his back turned, dragging Snape out of the quagmire.

"Kill!" The command echoed inside Harry's head like the humming of a hundred bees. With all his might Harry tried to move the wand away from Sirius. It was even harder than last time. Already he felt his mouth opening. Sweat leapt out on his forehead from the effort of fighting against the power that had him in control. No! Not Sirius! Harry thought frantically. NOT SIRIUS!

With an almighty lurch the wand jerked off course, causing Harry to stagger backwards and leaving him shaking.

"This is the first and last time I ever saved your life," Sirius snarled at Snape who was standing on firm ground again, dripping with mud.

Throwing him a poisonous look, Snape snatched back his wand, pointed it at himself and muttered, "Purus." Instantly, he was as dry and clean as before.

Harry sighed with relief. No one had noticed anything.

"So," said Sirius, "since we have only two brooms left, I suggest this scumbag," he jerked his head at Snape in disgust, "walks while we fly. What do you think, Harry?"

"Don't trouble yourself, Black," Snape sneered. "I can Apparate to the Flashing Wands in a second. The question is how you get there."

"Bastard!" Sirius muttered quietly but very distinctly. He had never flown to Godric's Hollow, Harry knew, and his licence to Apparate had long expired. That meant if Sirius splinched himself -- and the probability was very high after spending fourteen years unpractised -- he would be caught and receive the Dementor's Kiss. Besides Harry, who could only go by broom, needed someone to escort him safely to the village.

"I suggest you lend me your broom and share Potter's," said Snape equitably.

"No way!" said Sirius with finality. "That broom is new. I won't let you sit on it. You are capable of wrecking this one too."

"Then Potter lends me his and shares yours."

"Harry's broom was a gift of mine!" Sirius snarled.

Snape's voice assumed a tone of threatening calmness. "We can either stand here and argue until tomorrow or we do what I suggested." Harry saw a vein on Snape's temple throbbing dangerously.

"You can have my broom," Harry said quickly, handing Snape the Firebolt. "I'll fly together with Sirius."

"Very generous, Potter," said Snape, his mouth twisting wryly. "At least you have more sense than your godfather." He cast a venomous look at Sirius. "Let's go."

Darkness was already starting to fall when they finally landed in the middle of a forest. As far as one could see there was no house or sign of habitation, just the black outlines of mighty gnarled trees.

"I thought we were sleeping in a pub," Sirius said jokingly, looking around himself, "and not up a tree." Luckily, the tension between Snape and Sirius had relaxed during the last few hours and they were almost capable of speaking with each other like normal people. Almost.

Snape looked at him coldly. "We are here so you can disguise yourself and take your potion." He took something out of the pocket of his cloak; Harry couldn't see it properly as it was already so dark. Snape pointed his wand at it, muttered "Engorgio," and the object in his hand grew bigger until Harry recognized it as robes.

Snape tossed them at Sirius. "There," he said. "Put them on." Then he reached inside another pocket and drew out a phial with a purplish liquid. "That's your Polyjuice," he said, handing the phial to Sirius. "Don't forget that the effects expire after an hour."

Sirius's face twisted into a disgusted expression as he took the phial, and he eyed it with the utmost suspicion. "And I already hoped Dumbledore had forgotten it." Grumbling, he disappeared in the thicket.

Harry remained alone with Snape. It was getting darker and darker; a pale moon had begun to rise, he could see it through the tangle of twigs and rustling leaves.

Suddenly he felt it again. His wand had leapt into his hand. Harry could feel his heart beating faster. Of their own accord, his fingers closed around the piece of wood in an iron grip. Helpless as a puppet, Harry had to watch his arm stretch out and point the wand at Snape who was leaning against a tree trunk a bit further off. Harry tried to pull at the wand, leaned himself backwards in an attempt to force it away from his teacher. But he could try as much as he wanted -- the wand remained fixed.

"Kill!" the dreaded voice began to shout inside his head. "KILL!"

Harry gritted his teeth to prevent himself from opening his mouth and saying the deadly words. Every nerve inside him strained to fight against the dark power. The strain was so great that his eyes started to water and his vision became blurred. And yet it was to no avail. Inexorably, Harry's jaws parted; he heard himself whisper the beginning of the Killing Curse. "Avada..."

Stop! Harry thought desperately. Stop!

"... Kedavra!"

NO!

Just as the jet of green light shot out of the wand, Harry managed to wrench it off its target. The curse hit the next tree and Harry, keeling over backwards from the force of the jerk, fell to the ground.

Snape was there in a flash. "What the devil are you doing there, Potter?" he asked sharply, coming to a halt next to his sprawled student.

"Oh ... I ... er ... wanted to scare away a bat," Harry lied, panting.

"A bat?" Snape repeated, lifting an eyebrow. "And that requires throwing yourself onto the ground?"

"I just ... overbalanced," Harry replied truthfully.

"Indeed?" From the expression on Snape's face Harry could see that the Potions Master wasn't believing a word.

To Harry's enormous relief Sirius came back at exactly that moment and the questioning was at an end. Or rather, it was Professor Sinistra, Harry's Astronomy teacher, who issued from behind the trees. She was a young witch in her mid-thirties, not unattractive. Her light-brown hair was usually tied in a knot at the back of her neck and her blue eyes always sparkled with energy. Even though Sirius had mentioned to Harry that Dumbledore wanted him to take Polyjuice Potion, Harry found it a weird thing to suddenly see Professor Sinistra in front of him instead of Sirius.

Sirius alias Professor Sinistra wore -- from what Harry could see -- a frilly purple dress under the black travelling cloak and a rather ridiculous hat with large blue feathers. His features were contorted in disgust. "I'll get back at Dumbledore for this!" Professor Sinistra's voice cursed. "If I had known what this would be like...! Stop grinning, Harry!"

"Well?" smirked Snape. "The 'great adventurer' appears to have lost his spirit."

"And you shut up!" Sirius snarled at Snape. "Just let me remind you of this nice Boggart Neville once fought."

Snape's smirk instantly vanished. "Get a move on," he snapped. "It's just a few more minutes until Godric's Hollow."

They came to a halt in front of a red brick building. A sign over the door, illuminated by a torch, read "The Flashing Wands". Snape pushed open the black wooden door and went inside, Harry and Sirius in his wake. They found themselves in a warm but rather shabby room with black furniture. The only light came from the candles on the half a dozen tables and from several torches on the sooty walls. Overhead, wooden beams criss-crossed the low blackened ceiling. The inn was not dissimilar to the Leaky Cauldron. Four tables were occupied by witches and wizards who were either talking animatedly or reading the Daily Prophet, some smoking pipes.

Snape, Sirius and Harry approached the bar where the innkeeper was drying glasses with a smudgy cloth. He was a small man with a big black moustache and a deep tan.

"Buona sera," he said with a toothy grin and a slight bow. "Can I help you?" He spoke with a strong accent and in an unpleasantly oily manner.

"We have booked two rooms," said Snape. "My name is Wheathergood."

"Ah, un momento!" the innkeeper replied. He rummaged inside a drawer, finally pulling out a battered-looking book which he leafed through. "Esatto," he said eventually, jabbing a finger at a page filled with squiggles. "Here it is: Signore e Signora Wheathergood with son, room 102." He took a key from the board on the wall behind him and laid it onto the counter. "Prego."

"Excuse me," said Snape, frowning. "We have booked two rooms, not one."

"Due camere?" the innkeeper asked quizzically. "Ma no! Here it says: a double room with an extra bed per il figlio."

"I have to insist on two rooms."

"Mi dispiace! I'm sorry," said the innkeeper, wildly gesticulating, "but we're full up. Non ci sono più di camere."

"Is there another pub near where we could get one more room?" Snape asked impatiently. "It's just that our ... ah ... son is used to having a room of his own."

The innkeeper gave a regretful shake of his head. "I'm afraid, Signore Wheathergood, but there's just the Dancing Fairy which is full up as well." He shrugged. "Il figlio will stay con la mamma ed il papà in one room for the few days, won't he?" He gave Harry an encouraging smile, his dark eyes glittering.

Harry looked up at Sirius and Snape who were both wearing stony expressions.

"Well," Snape said at length, "as it seems we have no other option. We'll take the room." His mouth set in a hard line, he snatched the key from the counter.

The innkeeper smiled his broad greasy grin again. "Grazie, Signore," he said, bowing. "Just go up the stairs; the room is on the first floor. Have a nice stay, Signore Wheathergood. Buona notte!" He leered at Sirius as Professor Sinistra, smiling unpleasantly. "Buona notte, Signora Wheathergood!"

Sirius nodded with a forced smile, that looked almost graceful on Professor Sinistra's face, and followed Snape up the stairs.

"Bastard," he muttered when they were out of earshot. "And with Snape in one room too -- that's just what I needed."

"You are welcome to sleep outside in the forest, Black," Snape replied acidly, unlocking the door to their room. "Being a dog," his voice drawled sardonically on the last word, "that would be nothing out of the ordinary for you, I presume."

They entered. The room was rather small and Spartan. On the right was a double bed with greyish sheets and on the opposite wall an old moth-eaten sofa with a blanket that, with sufficient imagination, could be called an 'extra bed'. A small table and two spindly chairs stood before the small mullioned window and a narrow wardrobe occupied the space behind the door.

"I hope one thing is clear," said Sirius, flinging himself onto the sofa and yanking the ridiculous feathered hat from Professor Sinistra's head, "I won't sleep next to you!" He glared at Snape as if it were his fault that all the rooms were booked.

"I have no objection," Snape sneered. "You can have the sofa."

"No, you will sleep on the sofa. I don't think Harry wants to have you by his side either. You are outnumbered."

Realizing that that was true, Snape strode angrily over to the shabby piece of furniture. "Then shove off, Black!" he snarled. It was remarkable, Harry thought, how he always managed to make the name 'Black' sound like 'slime-covered piece of vermin'.

Grinning, Sirius got up, took off his cloak and lay down on the bed in Sinistra's frilly dress, Harry next to him in T-shirt and jeans. Sirius was slowly turning back into his usual self; you could see the hair darkening and growing shorter. "Have a good night on your sofa, Snape!" he teased. "And sleep well!"

"You will soon laugh on the other side of your face!" Snape hissed in a voice filled with hatred. "As soon as this is over. I swear it!"

"Ah ... always these threats ..." Sirius said languidly. "One does tire of them, you know."

Harry almost thought he could hear Snape's teeth grinding together, but this time the Potions Master seemed to prefer to dispense with a reply.

Once the candles had been extinguished, Harry lay in his bed, feeling restless. He thought about the attacks again. How long would he still be able to oppose the power that had him in its grip? How long would it take until he killed the first person, he wondered. It was not something he liked to contemplate. Would the demons appear again tonight? If they had been real -- and everything that had happened eliminated all doubt -- they would. Harry was almost sure of it. They hadn't got any souls today either and undoubtedly they would call him to account. He shuddered to think about it.

He didn't know why he hadn't told Sirius yet. Sirius had made him promise to inform him of anything unusual and yet he hadn't done it. Maybe it was because with all the bickering between Sirius and Snape there never was a chance for Harry to speak with Sirius undisturbed. Or maybe this was just a pretext, made up to fool himself because he actually didn't want to speak with anyone about it.

But it was all the same; tomorrow he would tell Sirius, he determined before he fell asleep.

~*~

As Harry had expected he was in the fire-lit hall again. The now familiar semicircle of demons stood around him as it had the nights before, and the chief demon stepped forward.

"You are very foolish, mortal boy," it said, hissing threateningly. "Why do you deny us our prey?"

Harry remained silent, looking steadily into the demon's yellow, cat-like eyes.

"You sacrifice your own soul by saving the souls of others," it continued. "Does your own salvation mean so little to you?"

"No," Harry replied defiantly. "But no one deserves to lose their soul just because of me."

The demon's eyes flashed maliciously. "Very noble," it said slyly. "So you refuse to fulfil the contract?"

"If that's what you like to call it, yes," he answered more bravely than he felt.

"As you wish," the demon said. "It is all the same to us. Whether we get your soul or someone else's does not matter. Just let me warn you one last time: There is not much of your soul left and once it is gone you will be a prisoner of hell and stay there for ever." It grinned malignantly.

"Didn't you say I was immortal?" Harry asked stubbornly. "And even invincible? How come you can hurt me and claim my life?"

The demon's grin deepened. "Did you really think we would direct our own power against us? You are only immortal and invincible on earth, not here."

"Where is this?" asked Harry, looking around himself. "Is this hell? It's not part of my dreams, is it?"

 "No," replied the demon. "This is neither hell nor a dream. We only summoned you into another dimension."

"Another dimension?"

"Yes," said the demon. "An Intermediate Dimension. They are everywhere and they are a means for creatures of different dimensions to meet. It would have been far too complicated to summon you to the hell dimension itself just to communicate with you. And it is equally difficult for you mortals to summon us to earth. Therefore we use Intermediate Dimensions."

"What other dimensions are there?" Harry asked curiously.

The demon's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Enough of that. You still owe us our recompense."

Harry swallowed. He already guessed what was coming. And he was right. The chief demon strode forward and repeated the procedure of the previous night. With his long fingernail he tore open the half-healed wound on Harry's chest so that it bled anew and Harry had to bite back a yelp of pain. Then the demon extracted another fistful of the blue smoke from it. As it did so Harry felt a sort of haze settle inside his head. His vision blurred, he couldn't think clearly; then it became black around him and he knew no more.

~*~

The next morning Harry was woken by the bickering noises of Sirius and Snape.

"... find yourself another room," Sirius's angry voice penetrated the woolly tangles of his dreams. "I could hardly sleep. Every time you moved that sofa made squeaky noises. It was irritating."

"Really?" came the sneering retort. "I'm surprised you could hear it over your troll-like snoring."

Harry opened his eyes. Sirius -- entirely returned to his usual self -- and Snape were standing in the middle of the room, looking daggers at each other.

Harry groped for his glasses on the bedside table, missed and knocked over the candle that had been standing there. It fell to the ground with its brazen stand, clanging loudly.

The two men turned around instantly.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully, then added with a scowl in Snape's direction, "Did he wake you up with his yelling?"

Snape gave a disgusted snort.

"Er ... no, that's all right," said Harry quickly. It was better to keep his mouth shut and stay neutral as it wasn't very wise to side openly with either of them. If he sided with Sirius and started to attack Snape, he could cancel his hopes of passing the next Potions exam, and if he sided with Snape, well, that was out of the question anyway.

"So ... what's on the schedule for today?" Harry asked to put their minds off quarrelling.

"Snape?" said Sirius, looking at him inquiringly. "What's your plan?"

"As yet we can't do anything," Snape replied. "We have to wait until the next Death Eater meeting."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What? The cunning, wily, ever so imaginative Slytherin is all out of ideas?" he scoffed.

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "When did I say I was out of ideas?"

"Not? Well, then out with your plan!"

Snape threw Sirius a dirty look. "We have no choice but to wait until the Dark Lord summons his servants," he began, "as this is the only chance for us to locate the Dark Lord. No one knows his whereabouts when he's alone, not even his closest servants. It would be too risky for him to confide in anyone. Therefore we will smuggle Potter into Blackmore's Hill at the next meeting and confront him with the Dark Lord."

Sirius gazed at him open-mouthed. "You are not serious, are you?"

"What, if I may ask, makes you think I am joking?" Snape looked at him with hooded eyes.

"You want to send Harry into the midst of all those Death Eaters without any arms? Are you mad? They will kill him within seconds!" He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Or is that just a trick of yours?" he asked suspiciously. "Are you still working for Voldemort and planning to extradite Harry?"

"I am not," Snape said shortly.

"Ah, so this is all brotherly love, right?"

"If Dumbledore's word isn't enough to convince you, I can't help you."

Sirius scrutinized him for several seconds. "Fine," he said at length. "You think sending Harry to beard the lion in his den is a good plan? Let's at least ask someone who is going to give us a slightly more intelligent opinion." He turned around. "Hello wall! What do you think?"

"If you think you're being funny, Black," Snape said coldly, "then let me correct you. I'm curious to hear your plan." He crossed his arms, looking at Sirius with raised eyebrows.

Sirius thought for a moment. "Well ... we could ..."

"Yes?"

"For God's sake, you are the ingrained Slytherin here, not me," Sirius snapped. "Thinking up plans is your job!"

Snape looked satisfied. "I'm glad to hear you finally grasped it, Black."

"But I'm warning you, Snape," Sirius snarled threateningly, "if they so much as harm a hair of Harry's head, you will rue the day you were born!"

A thought inside Harry's mind that had been trying frantically to get attention for the last few seconds was finally being acknowledged. Harry's head snapped up. "Oh, erm ... did I tell you I was invulnerable?"

For a moment, Snape and Sirius both stared at him.

"Invulnerable?" Snape repeated slowly, studying him with an arched brow. "I suppose that would be the reason why your shirt is bloody?"

Harry looked down at himself. "My -- Oh ..." The blood from the gash in his chest had soaked his T-shirt. "That ... that is from an old scratch," he lied. "I'm invulnerable since I wear the Ayrin. The blood is from before that. Accident in Herbology," he added.

"Why haven't you told me, Harry?" Sirius asked and the disappointment in his voice was very apparent.

"What? That I cut myself?"

"You know what I mean."

Harry felt guilty. He had simply forgotten to tell Sirius he had become invulnerable, but what would Sirius say if he found out that Harry had concealed all these strange meetings with the demons from him? That he had lied about the blood? It almost hurt physically to deceive his godfather like that. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I have forgotten to tell you."

"One moment, Potter," Snape interrupted, giving him a sharp look. "I can't remember having seen that blood when you went to bed."

Harry felt uneasy. Would they believe him? He doubted it. Even if he could convince Sirius, Snape would not be that easily impressed. Harry knew he ought to tell them what had happened in the night. He knew perfectly well that he was making a big mistake in keeping silent, but he just couldn't do it. Whatever reason there was -- shame, fear, or more dark magic that sealed his mouth -- he couldn't tell them. Not now.

So he had to lie on. "Sure it was there. You must have overlooked it in the dark."

Snape cast him a shrewd look. "So you are absolutely sure that you are invulnerable?" he asked, watching him intently.

"Yes."

"Does it also work for curses?"

Harry hesitated. "I don't know. I haven't tried it."

"Then we'll do it now," Snape said with determination.

"I'm warning you, Snape," Sirius growled. "If you hurt Harry--"

"... I will rue the day I was born, I know," Snape said irritably. "This is getting tiresome. Stand back or my hand might shake and the curse hits you instead of Potter." Scowling, Sirius retreated while Snape took out his wand and pointed it at Harry.

Harry was confident that nothing would hurt him as long as he was on earth and wore the Ayrin. The demons had said so, and the incident in Herbology had proved it. He stood in the middle of the room, relaxed.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Snape shouted, waving his wand. Nothing happened.

"Stupefy!" Again, no effect whatsoever. Snape tried a number of complicated and dangerous-sounding spells, all to no avail.

"I told you it wouldn't have an effect on me," Harry said.

"I'm not yet finished, Potter," Snape replied. "Imperio!" The floating sensation of carelessness Harry had come to know in Mad Eye Moody's lessons did not follow, Harry was fully aware of everything around him.

Snape seemed to hesitate, considering his next curse. At length he swung his wand again, crying "Av--"

"NO!" With a battle-cry Sirius lunged forward, throwing himself at Snape, who was caught completely off guard. The two men overbalanced and crashed onto the floor.

"Black!" Snape yelled, infuriated, from beneath Sirius. He was seething. But so was Sirius.

"You evil slimebucket!" he shouted, hitting Snape's hand hard against the wooden floor, causing the Potions Master to let go of his wand with a gasp of pain. "You were trying to kill Harry! I knew you would play false! All the time you were waiting to get that chance, weren't you? Tell me -- what was Voldemort promising you for delivering Harry, huh? A sack of gold and the privilege of becoming the cleaner of the Dark Lord's bedpan if you hand over Harry dead or alive?"

Snape was struggling futilely to get away from Sirius. "I don't know what you're talking about," he spat, "but this display of yours is absolutely ridiculous!" He made another vain attempt at freeing himself from Sirius's iron grip that was pinning his wrists to the floor. "I never had the intention to kill Potter nor to try out if he is able to resist the Killing Curse."

"Don't lie!" Sirius growled. "You were going to say Avada Kedavra!"

"I was not going to say Avada Kedavra," Snape said testily. "Though I doubt that even the Killing Curse would have had an effect on Potter. What I was going to say was Aveho Visum, a simple spell to turn you temporarily blind."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Sirius snarled.

"I don't care what you believe," Snape said, glaring. "Now, would you mind getting off me?"

With an air of deep suspicion, Sirius released Snape and got to his feet. "I won't let you try any more curses on Harry, though."

"I had just been about to finish before you interrupted." Glowering, Snape snatched his wand and stood up, too, massaging his wrists.

"You all right, Harry?" Sirius asked with a concerned look.

Harry nodded. "Sure. I didn't feel a thing. Everything dangerous seems to simply pass through me; it was the same in Herbology when I cut myself. The knife couldn't hurt me."

Harry suddenly noticed that Snape was studying him intently. The teacher approached him, brows knitted together, his black eyes fixed on Harry's green ones. Harry began to feel uncomfortable under his scrutinizing look. What was wrong?

"What happened to your eyes?" Snape asked bluntly.

"What?"

"Your eyes -- they are paler than usual."

Harry was completely bewildered. What was Snape talking about? How could his eyes be paler? "What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"Just what I said."

"I can't see any difference," Sirius said, gazing into Harry's eyes, too.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Could all this be an effect of him wearing the Ayrin? He was just about to give voice to his concerns when he changed his mind. No, he couldn't tell them his suspicion without telling them everything else that had happened. And to do that, he felt, he wouldn't be capable of yet. So he kept it to himself.

"How would you know?" Snape was sneering. "How often have you seen Harry in the last fifteen years? Five times?"

"He's got his mother's eyes," said Sirius, "and I've seen Lily during my whole school time." His voice grew harsher as he made a step towards Snape. "She was one of my best friends and if it hadn't been for you--"

"Careful, Black!" Snape breathed. He had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Sirius. In his eyes was a look of such intense hatred, it was startling. "Choose your words carefully because they might be your last."

Sirius's mouth was set in a hard line, the look in his eyes matched Snape's.

"Do you really want to bring it all up again?" Snape continued, a fire burning in his eyes.

Almost imperceptibly, Sirius's eyes flickered in the direction of Harry, and he silently stepped back from Snape. For a few seconds, Snape remained standing motionlessly, then he pocketed his wand again. 

"If you'll excuse me," he snapped, grabbing his cloak from the sofa. "I'm going. Don't expect me back until sunset." He strode to the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Sirius looked after him with loathing. "A wise decision," he said between his teeth.

Harry strode to the wardrobe. Earlier he had noticed a mirror on the inside of one door and he was determined to inspect his eyes himself.

His pale reflection stared back at him from the stained, half-blind looking glass. Harry squinted at his own eyes and realized with a pang that Snape had been right. His eyes, formerly the colour of emeralds, had turned into a pale, sickly green that was almost unnatural. The change felt so obvious to him that he was surprised Sirius hadn't noticed anything. But he secretly agreed with Snape. Sirius really hadn't seen him very often and memories faded with time.

"Was Snape right after all?" Sirius asked from behind him as if reading his thoughts. He had come to look at Harry's reflection as well. "You know, come to think of it, your eyes might really be a bit pale. Maybe you got a draught while we were flying?"

"Y-yes, that's possible," Harry lied and quickly closed the door of the wardrobe. "What are we going to do now?" he asked to change the subject.

"We're going to have a nice, Snape-free day," Sirius replied cheerfully. Harry could see that his godfather was making an effort to suppress his anger about Snape so as not to spoil the day for Harry. "What would you like to do?"

"See the village," said Harry at once, and Sirius had no objection.

So after Sirius had taken his potion to turn himself back into Professor Sinistra, they had breakfast down in the bar. Harry couldn't wait to see the place where his parents had lived and wolfed down his breakfast, urging Sirius.

The village was small and peaceful and gave the impression that it was the last homely place before the end of the world. At the centre of it was a market place with a wrought-iron well, surrounded by neat houses with tiny front gardens and flowerpots before bull's eye window panes. Harry didn't count more than three shops and two inns -- their own and the Dancing Fairy. The surroundings consisted of nothing but green meadows and the dark, sinister-looking forest behind them, stretching out for miles and miles.

Harry was disappointed that the house his parents had lived in no longer stood. The ruins Voldemort had left after his attack had been pulled down and a new house had been built in its place long ago. Yet the garden was still there with its high, gnarled oaks and wild flowers blooming amidst the green grass. Sirius told him that it had looked just the same when he had last visited the place fifteen years past, and Harry imagined his parents walking through the greenery, a picture that filled him with sadness.

He was very quiet when they finally decided to have lunch at the Dancing Fairy. Sirius had insisted they eat there since he didn't want to risk meeting Snape in the Flashing Wands, though Harry himself doubted that Snape would let himself be seen before the evening, but he didn't give voice to his thoughts.

The Dancing Fairy was very much alike the Flashing Wands and very crowded when they entered. It seemed as though half the village was assembled in the cavernous room. Harry spotted two vacant seats at a table to the back of the inn, otherwise occupied by three wizards talking and laughing loudly. He sat down while Sirius went to the bar to order food and drinks. When he came back and perched on the chair next to Harry, the heads of the three wizards turned around.

"May I invite you to a drink, Miss?" the one next to Harry asked with a lewd stare out of his deep-set eyes. He had longish brown hair and wore a travel-worn, dark green cloak.

For a moment Sirius just gaped at him, then, obviously remembering that he was Professor Sinistra, the corners of his mouth sank in disgust and he declined in not the most courteous of tones.

"That your son?" the man opposite Harry asked with a nod of his head. He looked like a brute.

"Yes," Harry said quickly, nervously flattening the hair over his lightening-scar. It would be dangerous if anyone recognized him here.

Maybe something about him or the way he had said 'yes' struck the wizard as odd, for suddenly his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Harry dropped his gaze to the table, hoping against hope he wouldn't be recognized. He knew how that worked. Once someone found out who he was the whole pub would know within seconds. But the man didn't say anything and slowly relief swept over Harry.

Then their food arrived. A serving girl in sky-blue robes brought them two tankards with butterbeer and platters laden with roast-beef, potatoes and green peas. Hungrily Harry and Sirius both dug in.

"Is there a graveyard near the village?" Harry asked Sirius between bites of potato.

Sirius shot him a warning look, indicating the three strangers at their table. Guiltily, Harry looked down and resumed eating in silence, but the strangers had heard.

"The graveyard?" the one in front of him asked. " What would you be wanting on the graveyard?"

"Distant relatives lived here some time ago," Sirius said before Harry could answer, stepping on his foot beneath the table.

"What was their name?" the stranger in the dark green cloak wanted to know. "Might be I knew them."

Harry had listened with growing unease. Why were those three so interested in them? His gaze fell upon the third stranger who hadn't spoken so far. He was leaning against the wall next to the brute and Harry caught him watching him with unnerving, pale eyes that, with a pang, reminded him of his own.

Just then Harry felt his wand stirring inside his pocket, but this time he was prepared. Quick as a snake his hand went to his pocket and pressed it shut so the wand couldn't jump out of it. But the wand didn't give up so easily. It struggled aggressively to get out, pushing and stabbing Harry painfully in the stomach and he had to bring up all his strength not to let it loose.

Why haven't I left it in our room? Harry thought desperately when a sudden wrench made him crash into the table and bowl over his tankard with butterbeer. Then, all at once, his wand stopped thrashing. With a grimace of pain Harry rubbed his elbow where it had hit the edge of the table while butterbeer spread over the tabletop, dripping onto the floor.

Harry saw Sirius and the three strangers staring at him and he realized what a weird view it must have been when he bowled into the table for no visible reason.

"Stomach ache," he mumbled as an apology and it wasn't even a lie. It still hurt where the wand had stabbed him.

"Happens I have a good potion against stomach ache," the man next to Harry said, wringing out his right sleeve which had been in the way when Harry's tankard had been knocked over. "I live just across the street, if you'd like to--"

"No thanks," Sirius said quickly, dragging Harry from his chair. "We're in rather a hurry." He pulled Harry with him up to the bar where he laid some coins onto the counter before leaving the inn.

"That might have been close," Sirius said with a stern face when they were finally alone. "Never speak to strangers here. This is the place where Death Eater meetings are regularly taking place. You don't know which side a stranger's on. And those three inside there looked very suspicious if you ask me."

"I'm sorry," Harry said timidly. "I didn't know we had to be that careful."

"Now you do."

"Are my parents buried on the graveyard?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes," was the short answer.

"Will you go with me ...?"

Sirius sighed. "I'm sorry Harry, but I don't want to go there. Not now. Maybe when all this is over ... that would be better for you too."

Even though Harry burned to see his parents' grave he didn't urge Sirius further. Maybe there was another possibility, maybe he didn't need Sirius to show him.

They walked back to the Flashing Wands in silence. Their room was empty when they returned -- Snape hadn't come back yet. To while away the time and to lift their spirits a little they played Exploding Snap (which Sirius called spitefully Exploding Snape). It was already dark when they stopped playing and Snape still wasn't back yet. They resolved to go to bed, Sirius vowing that he wouldn't get up to let Snape in when he came, as Snape didn't have a key to the room.

Harry tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, dreading to see the demons when he fell asleep and thinking of his parents. He wondered if Dumbledore had known that they were hiding just near the place where Voldemort had held his Death Eater meetings. And if yes, why he had counselled them to go right into the lion's den.

A silver crescent moon shone in through the small window, now and again hidden by scudding clouds, throwing the room into a play of light and shadow. Harry thought of the graveyard again and reached a decision. It was no use lying around in his bed when he dreaded every second that sleep befall him. Carefully he bent over Sirius. His godfather was sleeping soundly, Harry could hear his deep, regular breathing. As silently as possible he disentangled himself from the blankets, laced up his shoes and threw his cloak around his shoulders. His wand remained safely on the bedside table, he wouldn't take any risks. He then tiptoed towards the door and turned the key. Casting a last glance at his sleeping godfather, Harry pushed the door handle and winced as a hinge creaked. But he managed to slip unseen and unheard through the open gap into the corridor.

Outside Harry let go of his breath. The first step he had managed. Now he only needed someone to tell him where the graveyard was.

Downstairs at the bar the innkeeper was still busy washing glasses, even though it must have been way past midnight and the room was empty of guests. This was his chance. Sirius had said that he wasn't to talk to any strangers but the innkeeper wasn't exactly one. They all knew where he lived and if anything happened, the Ministry would find him. Surely it was safe to ask him a simple question such as where the graveyard of Godric's Hollow was!

"Excuse me, Sir," Harry said. "Could you tell me how I get to the graveyard?"

"The graveyard?" the innkeeper repeated with lifted eyebrows. "What do you want at the graveyard in the middle of night?"

"Please," Harry urged. "It is important."

"Certo." The innkeeper smiled his toothy grin. "Cross the market place, follow the path that leads past the old barn on the meadow and into the wood. After a few minutes you will come upon a clearing. There's the graveyard."

"Thanks," Harry sad gladly.

The innkeeper made a mocking bow. "Prego."

Feeling mischievous and just a little guilty that he had sneaked away from Sirius, Harry followed the earthen trail. The barn was long behind him, a ramshackle, dilapidated thing, and he was drawing near the edge of the wood. Like a mass of dark, ghostly giants the trees loomed before him, making him feel small and lost. Yet there was no turning back now. He had started this adventure trip to the graveyard and he was going to finish it. A little uneasiness wasn't going to hold him back.

As he plunged into the forest the blackness deepened. The faint shimmer of the moon was hardly visible beneath the dense canopy of leaves and twigs. Rotting leaves rustled with every step he made. To his left and right there was an equally impenetrable wall of trees, mighty trees that must have been there hundreds of years ago.

Harry could hardly see where he was going. The path was treacherous. Thick, gnarled roots stuck out from the ground to trip him, while branches whipped at his face from above. Sometimes Harry thought he heard the howling of a wolf and stopped to listen, but the sound was too far away to make out.

Just as he thought the forest would never end and fear began to creep up inside him that he had taken the wrong path and was lost, the trees parted to reveal a wide, flat clearing. The place was strewn with dozens of headstones, flooded by the pale, milky moonlight, here and there interspersed with tall weeping willows.

Hesitantly Harry approached, passing row after reverent row of tombstones, the heavy black soil that was still damp from a shower of rain muffling his footsteps. The weathered stones bore names and dates that reached back to the sixteenth century.

As he turned around a group of three weeping willows, their long branches hanging sadly to the ground, he saw a huddled shape at one of the headstones. Harry stopped, startled. He hadn't thought to meet anyone here at this time of night. Hiding behind the low-hanging branches of the weeping willows, he peered through the dripping leaves. By the pale light of the moon the figure looked just a shadow against the stone. It had its back turned to Harry and was leaning against the headstone, one hand clutching the top. Squinting through the darkness, Harry noticed that the person seemed to be shaking with grief.

The pressure eased a little. Surely that was no one dangerous. He was just about to emerge from under the weeping willows' branches and pass the mourner silently, when he spotted the names on the gravestone:

Here lie

James Potter
1960 - 1981

Lily Potter
1961-1981

R.I.P.

Harry stopped dead. The stranger was crouching at his parents' grave! Seized by curiosity, he had to find out who he was. Warily he edged a little closer, trying to stay behind the cover of the trees. But he could try as he might, there was no way to see the stranger's face but to leave his cover and step into plain view. And he didn't dare linger too long lest Sirius wake up and find his bed empty.

His contemplating was interrupted as he was suddenly aware of his hand clutching a rock. Harry stared. What new devilry was that? Already the terrible voices began to shout in his head. "Kill!" they urged him.

Harry turned his gaze towards the stranger cowering at the grave with his head bowed. With all his strength Harry threw the rock onto the humus-covered ground and ran. Past gravestone after gravestone and into the forest. He didn't pay any attention to where he was going, he just ran blindly through bushes and thickets, dodging trees.

It was the Ayrin. The damned emerald had wanted to make him kill someone again! Now he knew that there was no way he could save others from himself. Sooner or later the Ayrin would succeed and Harry wouldn't be able to stop himself from killing any longer -- with or without a wand. In desperation he yanked the thin band that held the Ayrin over his head and threw the cursed stone as far away as he could.

He ran on. He couldn't say how far or how long he ran but suddenly there was a black figure in front of him, blocking his way. Another emerged beside it, silent and ominous, and Harry halted, the anger he had felt a few seconds before giving way to fear. He found himself thinking of his wand, safely in his room and useless. As he turned around he saw more figures emerging from behind the trees, encircling him and drawing ever closer. There was no way to escape.

Are these the demons, he wondered. Have they come for me because I didn't keep the contract and threw the Ayrin away? Is this the end? His heart racing, he awaited his fate.

"Stupefy!" a voice shouted, there was a bright flash of red light and then blackness swirled around him.

**************

A/N: Lily's and James's year of death is derived from a Harry Potter lexicon where it says that they died at Halloween in 1981.

Thanks to all the people who reviewed and to all those avid readers who couldn't wait for your patience! I promise the next chapter won't take as long.