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“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly.

Across from him, Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was.

“I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No, you are not, I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord,” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!” “

“I am not weak,” said Harry in a low voice, fury now pumping through him so that he thought he might attack Snape in a moment.

“Then prove it! Master yourself!” spat Snape. “Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!”

He was watching Uncle Vernon hammering the letter box shut…

A hundred Dementors were drifting toward him from the opposite side…

Then he came to the windowless passage he had dreamed of many times before.

But this time it was not a dream, Harry returned to the day when he and Evan went to the Ministry of Magic for trial, August 12th.

Mr. Weasley was running with him and Evan to the underground courtroom, where they passed the same place.

Harry tried to go in, but Mr. Weasley led him and Evan off to the left, down a flight of stone steps…

“I KNOW! I KNOW!”

He was on all fours again on Snape’s office floor, his scar was prickling unpleasantly.

He pushed himself up again to find Snape staring at him, his wand raised. It looked as though, this time, Snape had lifted the spell before Harry had even tried to fight back.

“What happened then, Potter?” he asked, eyeing Harry intently.

“I saw — I remembered,” Harry panted. “I’ve just realized…”

“Realized what?” asked Snape sharply.

Harry did not answer at once; he was still savoring the moment of blinding realization as he rubbed his forehead…

He had been dreaming about a windowless corridor ending in a locked door for months, without once realizing that it was a real place.

Now, seeing the memory again, he knew that all along he had been dreaming about the corridor down which he had run with Evan and Mr. Weasley as they hurried to the courtrooms in the Ministry. It was the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries, and Voldemort wanted to enter.

“What’s in the Department of Mysteries?” He looked up at Snape.

“What did you say?” Snape asked quietly and Harry saw, with deep satisfaction, that Snape was unnerved.

“I said, what’s in the Department of Mysteries, Professor?”

“And why,” said Snape slowly, “would you ask such a thing?”

“Because,” said Harry, watching Snape closely for a reaction, “that corridor I’ve just seen — I’ve been dreaming about it for months — I’ve just recognized it — it leads to the Department of Mysteries … and I think Voldemort wants something from — “

“I have told you not to say the Dark Lord’s name!

“

They glared at each other. Harry’s scar seared again, but he did not care.

Snape looked agitated. When he spoke again he sounded as though he was trying to appear cool and unconcerned.

“There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, much, much more than you can imagine, but few of which you would understand and none of which concern you, do I make myself plain?”

“Yes,” Harry said, still rubbing his prickling scar, which was becoming more painful.

“Very well, we’ll stop here for today. I want you back here same time on Wednesday, and we will continue work then.”

“Fine,” said Harry. He was desperate to get out of Snape’s office and find Evan, Ron and Hermione.

“You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep — empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?”

“Yes,” said Harry, who was barely listening.

“And be warned, Potter … I shall know if you have not practiced …”

“Right,” Harry mumbled. He picked up his schoolbag, swung it over his shoulder, and hurried toward the office door.

As he opened it he glanced back at Snape, who had his back to Harry and was scooping his own thoughts out of the Pensieve with the tip of his wand and replacing them carefully inside his own head.

Harry closed the door carefully behind him, his scar still throbbing painfully.

Finally, Harry found Evan, Hermione, Elaine and Ron in the library.

Elaine was flipping through a book about the history of vampire origins, while Evan, Hermione, and Ron were doing homework.

Other students, nearly all of them fifth years, were also there for the O.W.L.s exam.

They sat at lamp-lit tables nearby, noses close to books, quills scratching feverishly, while the sky outside the mullioned windows grew steadily blacker.

The only other sound was the slight squeaking of one of Madam Pince’s shoes as the librarian prowled the aisles menacingly, breathing down the necks of those touching her precious books.

Harry felt shivery; his scar was still aching, he felt almost feverish.

“Blimey, you look bad, Harry,” said Ron.

“What happened? What did he do to you?” Evan asked.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione whispered, looking concerned.

From the look of Harry, Snape’s private tutoring was really bad. What happened between them?

Elaine put down her book and looked up at Harry.

“I’m fine,” said Harry impatiently, wincing in pain. “Listen … I’ve just realized something…”

He looked around and told them what he had just seen and deduced.

Evan also frowned. Harry finally knew about this. What would Dumbledore do?!

Would he adopt Evan’s suggestion? He should take Caresius to seek treatment from Grindelwald now. Once the vampire-related matter was resolved, it would be time to deal with the Prophecy Orb at the Ministry of Magic, which was something Voldemort was determined to obtain.

But to be honest, from the current situation, Voldemort’s side was a bit weak.

His army had not yet been formed, and the Death Eaters who were most devoted to him were still imprisoned in Azkaban.

He was about the same strength as Dumbledore, but Harry could counter him. His wand was ineffective against Harry.

The statue of the evil god was consumed completely by Evan. Engaging in a decisive battle now; Voldemort had little chance of winning.

The only thing he could rely on now was the Horcruxes. He was immortal until the Horcruxes were completely destroyed.

In particular, he had made the evil god statue into a Horcrux, which was very troublesome because it was difficult to destroy, given the protective powers of the evil god and the strength added by the Horcrux.

Evan felt that he should find a way to get an unparalleled weapon.

Of course, this was just a comparison of strength on the surface. The true horror of the evil god had not yet been revealed, nor had the horror of Voldemort. No one could guarantee what kind of monster Voldemort would become under the guidance of the evil god, an evil being willing to sacrifice even his own body for immortality and world domination.

Therefore, the sooner the final battle was held, the better for them. If Voldemort didn’t provide an opportunity, then they would create one themselves.

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