A/N: The next installment is longer than Slytherin Connection so you will have lots more manipulation and plot twists to enjoy.

For now – sorry. No happy ending for Harry this year.

Chapter 12

Desperation

A week later, the dizziness hit. Harry endured it as best he could, trying to get though his classes. He managed for three days.

After the second time that Ron and Hermione had to pull Harry up off the floor, Ron demanded, "Harry, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Harry swayed a moment on his feet, trying to force his eyes to focus. Someone came in front of him and lifted his chin, gently.

"OH, Ron," cried Hermione. "He's dizzy again."

"What?"

Harry staggered a bit as someone else grabbed a hold of his chin and turned his face.

"Harry?" said Ron, leaning close to him.

Harry tried but couldn't focus on his face.

"Ron?" said Harry.

"Oh, no," said Ron. "This is bad."

They brought him to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey put him to bed but Harry knew Madame Pomfrey couldn't help him. Only Voldemort could help him now.

That trap door seemed to open beneath him again.

Ron and Hermione kept asking him if they should tell Dumbledore. Harry told them no. But the next day the pain hit.

Dizziness, near blindness and now as much pain as if Voldemort was touching him converged on Harry.

To give her credit, Madame Pomfrey tried to keep Harry in dreamless sleep, but when ever Harry woke up, it was screaming.

"Get Sirius," rasped Harry a couple days later.

"He's coming Harry," said Hermione, sniffling.

"I'm not going to make it," said Harry.

"Harry, don't say-"

Harry cut her off by crying out. He had reached out also and grabbed a hand. Harry didn't know it was Ron's but he grabbed it with all he had.

When the pain ebbed enough, Harry clutched the hand as if it were an anchor.

"I can't win," rasped Harry, clutching the hand. His entire body convulsed against the pain. Harry held on to the hand.

"Don't let go of me, Harry," said Ron.

But Harry's grip fell off as Harry slid into darkness.

"Harry," he heard Sirius leaning over him.

Harry grabbed Sirius' arm. He couldn't speak.

"Go to him," said Sirius. "Ron found your maps."

The maps? Oh, yeah. The maps Harry had made.

"Go to him," said Sirius. "The aurors will find them. Get Voldemort to help you and the aurors will catch up."

Harry, blinded by dizziness and pain, didn't think. Sirius said go. Harry apparated directly to Voldemort.

"Harry?" said Voldemort.

Harry was on the ground at Voldemort's feet. The tent and its occupants were a blur.

"Make it stop," rasped Harry. He tried to push to his hands and knees but couldn't.

"Harry," said Voldemort. "What is the-"

Someone rolled Harry over.

"Make it stop," Harry said again, his voice rough and soft. He could barely make out the red eyes as they studied him.

"When did it start?" said Voldemort.

"Last week."

"Harry, you stubborn boy," said Voldemort. "Is there pain now?"

"Yes," Harry's voice was getting softer. "Yes."

"Harry."

"I'm begging," said Harry, his voice almost gone. "Only you can help me."

"Harry."

"I accept you," Harry rushed on, choking on the words. "I need you. Please help me."

Voldemort stared into Harry's eyes. Harry couldn't see his expression, but he waited. Harry felt a tear trail down the side of his head.

"Harry, do you know what you're saying?" said Voldemort.

Harry reached out and grabbed Voldemort's wrist. He closed his eyes briefly against the pain. Then he looked into the red eyes. His eyes still wouldn't focus.

"I do," rasped Harry. "Only you can help me." Harry swallowed. "I'm begging. Please." Harry swallowed again and stared up at Voldemort, not seeing but knowing he was there. "Help me, father."

Voldemort looked up then around. "You all heard him," said Voldemort.

Harry wasn't sure who "you all" were, but he heard a murmur in the tent.

Voldemort raised his hand over Harry's face. Harry closed his eyes.

"Are you ready, Harry?" said Voldemort.

Harry couldn't speak. He nodded.

Voldemort's hand hit Harry's scar. Harry didn't even know if he screamed.

Harry woke to more voices.

"He's not going to believe it." It was Ron.

"I don't care what you say," said Hermione. "I think he planned it."

"Will you both be quiet," said Sirius.

Harry's memory came flooding back. What have I done? Harry didn't remember everything that had happened in Voldemort's tent but he knew he had begged Voldemort. He remembered accepting him. I called him father!

Harry groaned.

"Harry! Harry!" said Ron. "You did it."

Harry didn't want to face them. Someone gently took his hand.

"Harry, you're all right."

It was Hermione. Harry pulled his hand out of her grasp and put his arm over his head, covering his face with a groan.

"Harry?" said Hermione, puzzled.

"Hermione," said Sirius. "He's still in a lot of pain. Why don't you two go and get something to eat. I will tell you when he's stronger."

"OK," said Ron. "See you later, Harry. Good work."

Harry heard them leave. Good work?

"Sirius," rasped Harry.

"I'm here, Harry."

He sat down beside Harry and picked up his hand looking down at Harry with concern.

"How bad is the pain?" said Sirius.

Harry closed his eyes briefly. "Manageable."

"Harry," said Sirius. Harry opened his eyes. "They caught them."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in the tent with you was caught," said Sirius. "They are all at Azkaban."

"What about-"

"Him too," said Sirius.

Harry swallowed. He'd be next.

"I'm sorry," rasped Harry. "He's beaten me."

"What are you talking about?" said Sirius. "Voldemort told the aurors what happened."

Harry groaned.

"That you tricked him into helping you over the threshold," said Sirius. "So the aurors could catch them."

Harry stared at Sirius. "Voldemort said that?" said Harry.

"Yes, Harry. You're a hero again."

Harry was confused again. Why would Voldemort lie? Did Voldemort think Harry was trying to manipulate him again?

Impossible. Voldemort could tell when Harry was in agony. Harry hadn't been able to tell if Voldemort looked satisfied or pleased when Harry had accepted him (Harry couldn't see). Voldemort hadn't sounded triumphant either.

Voldemort had only said "You all heard him."

Sirius was going on.

"There's no one in the wizarding world who will believe you've joined him now," said Sirius. "Especially after the aurors brought you back. I've never seen you in such bad shape, Harry." Sirius looked like he wanted to reach out and touch him – as if he couldn't believe Harry was alive. "Not even Rowan could help you." Sirius' voice broke.

Harry was still so confused, his stomach knotted. What is Voldemort up to?

"Did he-"choked Harry.

"File a stay of execution?" finished Sirius then nodded. "Yes. But I told him no."

"Oh?"

"Voldemort said you would insist on seeing him," said Sirius.

Harry closed his eyes. Another one of Voldemort's test. It was a test of Harry's

honor.

Harry sat uncomfortably at the Gryffindor table as the closing feast continued. Against Madam Pomfrey's better judgement, Harry had been permitted to leave the hospital to attend the festivities. Try as he did, Harry couldn't get out of it.

As he pushed food around on his plate, Harry could see and hear the boisterous and celebratory antics of the other students. Everyone was so carefree. Several looked at Harry as if they wanted to come over and congratulate him. Others looked at him with awe. Harry ignored these people. His housemates looked at him with distress.

He knew he looked like crap. He felt like it too. He hadn't eaten or slept since he had woken up and he certainly wouldn't ask Severus for potions. He knew he'd get the third degree from the professor if he did. Snape hadn't been at the tent with the others, so Harry was told – not that they ever arrested Snape. But Harry knew that the potions master would be far too interested to hear what actually happened to let it rest. Everyone else only knew what Voldemort had told the aurors.

All anyone got out of Harry was that he didn't remember most of it. Which was the truth. It was the parts that Harry did remember that caused all the distress.

But Harry was a hero again. He just didn't get it. Voldemort was back in Azkaban – with some of his most loyal, powerful Death Eaters.

A glance at the Slytherin table showed the group half-heartedly celebrating. It was a subdued sort of happiness that made Harry wonder if it was real. He searched the table until he spotted Draco. He was eating, nodding silently at comments from those around him but his expression was inscrutable.

Again Harry had to wonder just who he could trust.

"Harry, please eat something," Ginny begged.

"I'm not-" Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice and cleared his throat. His voice was still rough despite Pomfrey's potions. Luckily, only a select few knew it was from screaming. "Not hungry," Harry managed.

Harry felt Ginny's fingers stroke the back of his head. "I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

Harry met her gaze only briefly before looking away. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone.

"Fine," she snapped, tossing down her napkin.

Harry watched in silent regret as she flounced away in anger.

Damn Voldemort. His summer was going to be a nightmare.

TBC in Harry Potter and the Trelawney Prophesy