A/N: I took the lyrics out of the beginning of this chapter to appease new policy. If you wish to know where I got the title of this chapter, rent the movie or see the show, "The Phantom of the Opera" and pay close attention to the labryinth scene.

Chapter 13: Inside My Mind

"For the last time I don't know!" Harry snapped, only just restraining the urge to bare his teeth. He was getting fed up with the interrogation. They had been drilling him for the past hour; they had to be giving up soon.

Another Auror stepped forward, staring hard at him. "You said He was looking for something. What was it? How do you even know?"

Harry gazed back impassively, making his face go blank of emotions. He had many years of practice at this with the Dursleys. For all Harry cared, the Aurors could be offering him the world. The Dursleys made this stupid questioning seem like child's play.

"Leave him alone," pleaded Nymph, looking weary from where she was restrained against the wall. Harry felt a pang in his chest. He didn't want her to go through any pain because of him. And now because of him and his stupid visions, her job was in jeopardy.

Randal gave her a stern look. "We need to know what is going on here, Tonks. You know procedure."

"There is nothing going on," Harry said pointedly. The entire room looked at him, the same way they had been doing since he woke. He swallowed down a sarcastic remark. "I just had a bad dream. That's all. That should teach me not to drink Butterbeers before bed." He started to stand and a young recruit pushed him back into his seat.

"Yes, you just happened to have a dream about a town that was completely leveled today," Randal said slowly. "I'm sure it was a total coincidence."

"Exactly!" said Harry brightly. "Glad we're on the same page. I'll just leave now."

"No one is going anywhere until I get some answers," he shot-down sharply. "We'll start off simple: what is your name?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Randal slammed his fists against the table, but said nothing. "How old are you?"

"Three and a half."

"Why did your eyes change colors?"

"They didn't. You really should get more sleep if you're hallucinating like that," Harry advised calmly. Randal's left eyelid twitched.

"Do you work for the Dark Lord?"

"I refuse to answer that question."

"Do you work for the Dark Lord!"

Doesn't take long for him to lose his patience. "Yes. I'm a full-blown, scary masked, blowing cape Death Eater. I steal candy from children. I sacrifice goats on my weekends."

Tonks let a small giggle escape despite herself. She was the only one.

"This isn't a joke, boy," growled Randal. Harry rose stiffly, shaking off the Auror trying to contain him.

"Don't call me boy."

"How dare you-" He reached out towards Harry's shoulder and the teen flinched uncontrollably. Randal withdrew his hand, a puzzle look etched deep on his face.

"Leave him alone."

Harry spun around, his neck emitting a sharp crack. Minister Fudge was there, staring hard at the Commander's face. He didn't look happy.

Not happy at all.

"One might wonder, Mr. Randal, what you are doing here when there was such a high-scale attack this morning." Harry flinched again, this time drawing back from the venom in Fudge's voice. For the first time, Harry could see why Fudge had been voted Minister of Magic; he could be bloody scary when he wanted to be.

"Sir," he said, straightening up and facing the Minster, "we have apprehended a suspect we believe was involved in the attack and I thought it best to interrogate him personally. I have already sent a team to the site-"

"He's not a Death Eater," said Fudge calmly.

"There," Harry said petulantly. "You see?"

"Stop whining, Harry," rebuked Mad-Eye as he stepped into the room. "It doesn't become you."

Harry finally transformed back, slightly reveling in the shocked gasp this act received. "A lot of things don't become me, but that doesn't stop me from doing them." Harry remarked pointedly.

"Thomas!" Mad-Eye barked abruptly, making Randal, who was still staring at Harry in surprise, jump.

"Yes, sir?"

"I thought I trained you better than this! You couldn't recognize a Metamorphmagus when you saw him?"

"Well, I-"

"Tonks, Dumbledore wants you back at Headquarters," he interrupted. Nymph gave Harry an encouraging smile and left the room. "Now," he said in a business-like tone, turning to Harry, "I want you to tell me exactly what you saw, Potter."

"Potter?" Randal stuttered out.

"I don't remember," Harry repeated dully.

"Nothing?"

"Don't you think if I could remember anything I would tell you? I want Voldemort gone as much as you."

Mad-Eye sighed. "Alright, I believe you. I've been asked to escort you back to Privet Drive. Dumbledore wasn't too happy too find out you were here."

"As in Harry Potter?" Randal asked suddenly.

Harry looked at him and smirked. "I told you I wasn't a Death Eater."

2 August, 1996

"They thought you were …" Kyle trailed off, shaking with laughter.

"It's not that funny," Harry said, but he was unable to repress a smile. "There is something else, though." Immediately, Kyle sobered.

"Do you remember something about the attack?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he grumbled, irritated.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "What else is there?"

"I think – now, don't panic, I'm not sure – but I think that the Aurors know about me. That is, they know about Dagger. Not that I am Dagger, but …"

Kyle jumped out of his seat and swore. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "I saw one of them doing paperwork on it." He didn't mention Nymph; he had already gotten her in trouble once that week.

"I'll look into it," Kyle finally said, letting out a deep breath. "Hopefully, we can stop them before they find out too much."

Harry returned to his room, his body aching for a nap. Instead, he found three letters waiting for him.

He groaned and flopped onto his bed. "Just drop the letters and leave, please." The owls hooted angrily and one took flight, landing on his head and pecking sharply.

"Ow!" He sat up and glared at the offending bird, who looked smug. "Fine, I'll open them now." The birds left their deliveries at the foot of the bed and flew out the window. "Yeah, now they leave," he complained and set about reading his mail.

D, the first letter read.

Tomorrow, usual place, three o'clock. Don't be late.

C

Typical Snape. Harry mused, smiling. Short, to the point, and dripping with disdain.

Dear Harry,

I must insist that this practice of leaving your house be ceased immediately. I will be visiting you as soon as it settles down here to discuss it more fully.

Albus Dumbledore

Great, I'm so looking forward to it.

Harry looked at the last letter, eyes opening wide as soon as he recognized the seal. The Ministry of Magic seal. His OWL results.

Eagerly, he tore open the envelope.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are your Ordinary Wizarding Level scores. A letter detailing the courses you will be eligible for, as well as your supply list, will be arriving in a few weeks.

Congratulations on your achievements and best of luck,

The Board of Magical Education

Below there was a list of signatures of the board members. Harry held his breath and turned the page over.

OWL results for Potter, Harry J:

Defense Against the Dark Arts:

Written: OPractical: OOverall: O 2

Potions:

Written: OPractical: EOverall: O 2

Transfiguration:

Written: EPractical: EOverall: E 1 1/2

Charms:

Written: EPractical: AOverall: E 1 1/2

Herbology:

Written: APractical: EOverall: A 1

Care of Magical Creatures:

Written: OPractical: OOverall: O 2

History of Magic:

Written: APractical: -Overall: A 1

Astronomy:

Written: APractical: D Overall: D 0

Divination:

Written: DPractical: DOverall: D 0

O - 2

E – 1 1/2

A - 1

D – 0

T – 0

Student scored highest mark on exams in his year.

Harry stared at the paper in shock. "I got 11 OWLs!"

3 August, 1996

"You made it into my class?" Snape said disbelievingly, reading over Harry's OWL results. The teen had already sent them off to Remus, Hermione, and Ron, but he couldn't wait for their replies; he needed to share his excitement with someone.

"That's not what you are supposed to say," Harry said sullenly. He was strangely disappointed by the Potions Master's lack of response. "You're supposed to tell me how wonderful my scores are."

Snape sneered, but indulged him anyway. "They're surprisingly good for someone of your capacity. Better?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine."

"They could be much better, however." He looked Harry squarely in the eye, complete seriousness filling his expression. "You've shown remarkable ability these past few lessons. It just goes to prove that you have not been applying yourself in your schooling. You need to stop lagging about and start working harder."

Despite the veiled insult, Harry beamed.

4 August, 1996

Dear Harry,

I got my OWL results! 15 OWLs, can you believe it? I'm so excited! I wrote to my parents and they were so impressed and proud of me. I can't wait until our letters arrive and we can pick our NEWT classes!

How did you do? Ron received 7 OWLs and his mother isn't pleased. I told him he should have studied harder, but he doesn't listen to me. He was already upset because Mrs. Weasley won't let him go to the Quidditch Game tomorrow and this has made him even more unhappy. I keep telling him he wouldn't be able to go anyway because Dumbledore doesn't think it will be safe, but he just glares at me and stomps to his room.

I hope Dumbledore lets you come soon, Harry. I miss you tons!

Love, Hermione

Dear Hermione,

Congratulations! You should be excited about your scores, you did amazingly well!

I only got 11 OWLs, but it was a lot better than I thought I was going to do. I wrote to Remus about it, but I haven't heard back from him yet.

I haven't heard much from Ron this summer, either. Is he doing alright?

Hopefully, I'll be seeing you soon.

Love, Harry

PS – It's too bad Dumbledore said the Quidditch game would be dangerous. It sounded like it would be fun.

5 August, 1996

Oliver Wood sat in the Puddlemere United locker room, staring hard at his twitching hands. He took a deep breath.

"You okay, Wood?" Oliver flinched at the sound of his fellow player, a Beater named Tim's, voice. "You look nervous."

"Yeah," he replied shaking his head slightly. "I'll be fi- " He flinched again as the door to the locker room spring open.

"Whoa, spiffy digs," said Fred approvingly as he stepped into the room. His brother came up beside him, surveying the area.

"How come we don't get a locker room this nice?" he complained.

"Fred?" Oliver asked, rubbing his eyes and hoping he wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. "George?"

"Hey, cap'n." George clapped a hand, hard, on to Oliver's shoulder.

Fred grinned at his obvious distress. "How are you?"

"Good. Er … what exactly are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly.

"Watching a Quidditch match, of course," said a voice by the door. Looking up, Oliver saw another ex-teammate, Angelina.

"Wha – what?"

"A bunch of us from Hogwarts– ," Katie explained as she entered.

"Or recent graduates like Angelina and I," added Alicia.

Katie nodded and continued. "- planned to come out and see a game together."

"And we knew that you were playing today," said Angelina.

"We wouldn't miss this for the world, Oliver," finished Alicia.

"But, how - how did you get in here?" sputtered Oliver.

"We snuck in," they all answered in unison.

"Wait a second," Oliver said, finally letting this all sink in, "how exactly did you sneak in?"

Katie shrugged and answered vaguely, "Well, we do have the Weasley pranksters with us."

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but … do you know what will happen if you're caught?"

The group looked at each other uneasily.

"Er …"

"Um …"

"Well ..."

"The thing is ..."

"We haven't exactly thought that far ahead," Fred finally explained.

"It's no big deal, though," elaborated his twin.

"We work best under pressure," finished Alicia.

Oliver shook his head. "You really did all this just to see me?"

"No, we did it for the free food you guys get," said Fred sarcastically.

"Of course we did this to see you, you great git." George rubbed his hair affectionately.

"Who are these people, Oliver?" The captain of the team and Chaser, Robert, finally asked.

"My team," he replied, smiling slightly.

"What?" asked Sam, another Chaser, confused.

"It's my team. From Hogwarts."

" – and then Oliver here comes running down the stairs with nothing, but a towel on, shouting that there were snakes in his shower." Fred grinned mischievously as the crowd laughed. Oliver harrumphed.

"I always did love that story," replied a new voice. Oliver whipped around to see the source of the response and found a blue-haired teenager lounging on the doorframe, smirking widely. Despite the appearance, Oliver knew it could be no one else.

"You haven't been getting into any trouble lately, have you Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do I ever?"

"All the time."

"I think I'm offended."

"What did you do?"

"Besides sneaking into a pro-Quidditch league locker room?" he retorted dryly. The others snickered.

"Don't encourage him," Oliver shot at them and then looked imploringly at Harry. "Well?"

"Nothing. I've been a perfect angel," he said sweetly.

"It doesn't matter if you're a perfect angel or not, trouble still manages to find you," said Alicia.

Angelina nodded. "She's got a point." Harry opened his mouth to protest when he was cut off by footsteps in the hall.

"What was that?"

Fred peered out the door. "Bugger, the guards are coming."

"Good luck, Oliver!" cried Katie.

"Don't break a leg!" wished Harry enthusiastically. "Or anything else for that matter."

Oliver smiled as they left, feeling a slight boost in his confidence knowing that they were rooting for him.

"Hey, Harry! You made it!" Susan gushed and slid over on the bench so that he could have a seat between her and Dean.

"We didn't think Dumbledore would let you come, mate," said Dean, slapping him on the back.

Seamus leaned over and pinched Harry's cheek. "Now we can fully celebrate our ickle Harrikins birthday."

"No, no," Harry assured them, "that's not necessary, really."

"Doesn't mean we're not going to do it anyway."

"Look!" said Susan, breaking up any further objections. "It's starting!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," boomed a voice from the announcer's box. "On behalf of the Department of Games and Sports, I would like to apologize. Today's game will not be occurring-" Loud, angry murmurs erupted from the crowd "– and I have been asked to inform you that all ticket money will be refunded by owl post in a few days …"

He trailed off as the sky darkened. A flock of crows descended on the spectators, causing them to fall into a hushed silence. As the flock flew closer, viewers began sobbing, screaming, and staring in panic.

Harry leaned in next to Susan, who seemed as scared as the rest of the audience. "What is going on?"

"Death messengers," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "They used them during the last war to inform families when one of their loved ones were …" She didn't have to finish. Harry looked up at the sky in dawning horror.

"But," Dean said, his voice trembling, "There are so many of them."

Harry wasn't listening. His scar slowly grew hotter, burning a brand through his skin. And he watched as one singled crow flew closer and closer, dropping a letter at his feet.

The solemn white lettering on the black envelope stared mockingly up at him.

'To Mister Harry James Potter'.