Harry hadn't slept.
The common room had emptied hours ago, but he still sat there, hunched near the fire that had long since turned to embers. The copy of the Daily Prophet lay folded neatly on the table in front of him—too neatly. He hadn't torn it, hadn't thrown it. Just read it. Once. Then again. And again.
And again.
Every line still echoed.
"A phoenix may rise from ashes—but what if all that's left is smoke and mirrors?"
He pressed his palms into his eyes, but it didn't help. The words had sunk in, carved out a space in his thoughts and stayed there. Lodged deep.
Since then, everything had felt... wrong.
----
The next day, the corridors whispered.
Not literally. Not like Parseltongue or enchanted voices. Just footsteps, low voices, the usual bustle. But to Harry, it felt angled. Intentional.
He kept catching glances he couldn't be sure were real. Hufflepuffs walking two-by-two would fall silent when he passed. A Ravenclaw in the library looked straight at him for one breath too long before returning to her book. Even Ron, when Harry looked up during Herbology, had been staring at his hands like he didn't know what to say.
Were they waiting for him to explode? To mess up? To prove the article right?
He tripped over a root in Greenhouse Three and someone laughed, not loudly, not cruelly. But his face burned anyway.
He didn't say anything during the whole class.
----
The worst part was Holly.
She hadn't said anything. Not one word about the article. Not to him, not in defense of him. Not in anger either. Just... nothing.
In fact he hadn't seen her in class, since the newspaper.
They had passed each other in the corridor once between classes. She looked at him, paused, and then kept walking, faster now. In truth she had seen the effects of Lucas' magic. Liquid orange, which at the start tinted his irises, was dripping out of his eyes now and it broke her heart. She had tirelessly combed through both parts of the library ever since she had gotten that name. In hopes of finding more than the incoherent journal. Alas, she had found nothing until now, but she wouldn't stop.
Harry didn't see that, too caught up in his own fabricated world he had come to believe to be reality.
His stomach twisted. Did she believe it?
"If she weren't overshadowed by her brother's messes…"
Was that what everyone thought? That he was dragging her down?
He tried to talk to Hermione about it later, but the words wouldn't come out right. Every question felt too needy, too revealing. Instead, he pretended to be reading for History of Magic and nodded along as she spoke.
Her voice blurred.
His eyes drifted to the reflection in the window beside her.
There was no one behind him, but it felt like there was.
----
He stopped eating lunch.
It wasn't a decision, just something that happened. He would sit, push food around his plate, and leave. Everything felt loud in the Great Hall. Forks against plates, laughter that sounded sharp, glances like pinpricks.
Was anyone actually looking at him?
Yes.
No.
He wasn't sure anymore.
He started walking faster between classes. Stopped going to the common room if it was too full. Kept his eyes on the floor when he passed students in the hallways, especially the older ones.
It helped. A little.
But the silence inside his own head had changed, too.
----
He had started doubting his own memories.
That thing second year, in the Hospital Wing, what had really happened?
He remembered trying something in private. He remembered it going wrong.
Had he really…?
Was that his fault?
He kept hearing the phrase again: "A danger to himself, let alone others."
Had someone actually said that?
Or had he made that up?
He didn't know anymore. That's what terrified him most.
----
And Lucas?
Lucas had gone back to being pleasant. Unbothered. Polite. Like he had been before he had left.
But when they passed in the hall, Harry flinched anyway. Not visibly, he didn't think so, but his shoulders tensed, his breath caught.
Lucas never stopped walking. Had never said anything.
But every time, Harry could feel the weight of that gaze at the base of his skull.
----
By the end of the week, Harry had stopped looking people in the eye altogether.
It was easier that way.
Safer.
----
Holly stood outside the stone gargoyle for a long time. The decision to go to the headmaster again was a hard one. But she thought he would be able to help Harry quicker this way. She had informed her dad nonetheless. The situation was more dire than she had expected. Harry was not doing well.
Her fingers fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve, twisting the fabric in small, tight loops. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, forgotten. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding since she saw him.
Liquid orange.
Twisting like oil behind his irises. It had dripped down over his face like tears, though none had fallen. Worse with every day. And when she looked at him, really looked, it was like there was someone else standing just behind his eyes.
She needed help. She couldn't watch any longer. Harry was slipping fast, and if she didn't act now, it might be too late.
They couldn't take Harry out of the school because of the tournament and it would take time for James to convince Amelia to let him shadow Lucas instead of the other two aurors.
"Fizzing Whizzbee," she said quietly.
The gargoyle leapt aside without hesitation.
Dumbledore was waiting.
In one of the armchairs near the fireplace, away from his desk, a tray of tea and three mismatched cups already set out. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden glow that softened the lines of his old face.
"Come sit, Holly," he said gently, gesturing to the chair beside him. "I've just brewed lemon verbena. Thought you might..."
"I'm not here for tea," Holly interrupted, stepping inside and shutting the door firmly. "I'm here because of Harry."
Dumbledore's expression sobered immediately. "What did you see? Describe it."
That made her stop and take a step back. 'Was he waiting for me?'
That would explain the prepared tea and his inaction. Holly stared into his blue eyes sceptically.
The headmaster reciprocated with a warm smile, "it is not like you think it is. I am not doing this to get to you. There is more at play than you know and for the sake of Harry's future he needed to endure it. At least till now."
Holly coming here signalled to him that it was time to stop. Whatever her ability made her capable of seeing, was bad enough to warrant coming here this desperate.
"I don't care about that. We need to act," Holly snapped. "You said I should trust my magic. Well, I'm telling you, you need to act now."
He nodded, unfazed by her outburst. "You trusted your gift. I'm proud of you."
She blinked at that. The words caught her off guard. She finally sat down in the chair opposite of him.
"I am glad you did and I can assure you I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to Harry," Dumbledore said gently but firmly.
He set his cup down and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.
"We don't know exactly what is going on in his head," he admitted. "But I promise you, we're going to protect him. Which is why I've asked Severus to help."
"Snape?" she frowned. It deepened when she caught on to what he had said. She didn't like it, not one bit. But there was no going back now. Her dad will definitely chew her out. Regardless, she needed to finish this first, before building distance again. "But he's not a Legilimens."
"No," Dumbledore said, "but he's a very gifted Occlumens, maybe even the best. And while we can't stop someone from trying to get into Harry's head, we can teach Harry how to keep them out."
Holly nodded slowly. "He's not going to take it well."
"No, I don't imagine he will," Dumbledore said with a soft chuckle. "But he listens to you. Even if he's angry or afraid."
She looked at the fire for a long moment.
"I'm going to find out how to use my magic," she said quietly. "Even if I have to go through the entire library page by page."
"You won't be doing it alone," Dumbledore of course heard that, despite his old ears. "Not while I'm here. Not while we're here."
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, warm and steady.
"I know this is frightening," he said. "But you're not a child fumbling in the dark. You're a light, Holly. A rare and powerful one. Let me guide you."
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. She definitely needed to keep her distance from this man.
A quiet knock broke the moment.
Dumbledore voiced in a mild, "Come in," just as the door creaked open to reveal Professor Snape, cloaked in his usual black, his presence as sharp as the scent of potion smoke that followed him.
His gaze flicked to Holly, pausing briefly on her face, as if assessing her like he would an unfinished brew.
"You summoned me," Snape said, voice smooth but edged.
"I did," Dumbledore replied, pouring him a cup of tea. "Please, sit. There's something important we need your help with."
Snape did not sit. He crossed the room slowly eyes narrowing at Holly before landing on Dumbledore with a raised brow. "I assume this has something to do with Potter."
"It does," Dumbledore said, his tone remaining calm. "The other one."
"Well. If someone has compromised Potter's mind," he said, "I presume you called on me to identify the intrusion?"
"No," Dumbledore said. "To help him defend against it. You can teach him how to close the doors."
Snape's brows rose, more surprised than he let on. "You want me to teach Potter Occlumency."
"Yes," Dumbledore responded. "Because you won't go easy on him. And right now, he needs hard truths."
Snape looked at the headmaster with fresh scrutiny. "He won't listen to me. He never has."
"He doesn't need to like you," Holly said flatly, interrupting. "He just needs to stop unraveling."
Dumbledore gave a soft nod of approval. "I will call him in."
He turned to Fawkes, who trilled quietly from his perch, and gave the phoenix a whisper-soft command. In a heartbeat, the bird vanished in a burst of flame.
They waited in silence.
Snape folded his arms, moving to lean against the wall beside a cabinet of delicate books. He didn't speak.
Holly remained sitting, staring at the fire, arms crossed over her chest.
A minute passed.
Then came the flames.
When Harry appeared, his entire frame seemed weighed down, not just with fatigue, but with something denser. He looked older than he had at the beginning of the week, eyes shadowed, shoulders tense.
He barely glanced at anyone before fixing his gaze on the carpet.
"You wanted to see me?" he said, his voice tired.
Dumbledore smiled gently. "Yes, Harry. Please, come sit."
Harry hesitated only a moment, then shuffled toward the seat furthest from Snape and dropped into it, back hunched.
Holly's chest tightened. The air around him felt wrong. Heavier, duller. Even without her sight, she would have noticed the changes. But through her magic, it was worse. The orange residue had spread and thickened, more tangled, more invasive. Like it tried to crawl deeper.
Snape narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"I imagine," Dumbledore began, "that things haven't felt quite right lately."
Harry stiffened.
"I don't know what you mean," he said quickly, too quickly. "I'm fine."
"You are not," Snape said bluntly.
Harry looked up, glaring. "Oh, wonderful. You're here."
Snape didn't rise to the bait. "Believe me, Potter, I'm not thrilled either. But if you had even the faintest awareness of how compromised your thoughts have become, you'd be begging for help."
Harry's fists clenched.
"That's enough," Dumbledore said gently but firmly, raising a hand. "Harry, listen to me. You are not imagining it. You're not weak, and you're not going mad. But something has been done to you. Something subtle. Dangerous."
Holly stepped forward, stating clearly why he was here. "You don't need to fight it alone."
Harry finally looked at her.
Something flickered across his face, not trust, not hope, but maybe the memory of both.
Then it was gone, and he looked back down.
"I don't need help," he mumbled. "I'm fine."
"No," Dumbledore said softly, "but you will be."