A/N- So, another chapter has arrived! This one took a little extra work because I deviated from my plan a little. My problem is that I know where I'm going- I'm just not quite sure how to get there yet. It may take a bit of time, so please be patient. This chapter was supposed to be part of the next one (Learning Curves) but the muse took me and this part ended up being a lot longer than I'd planned. It finished at a good place, I think, so I decided to split the chapter up into two. Here is the first instalment. Hope you enjoy it, and the next one shouldn't be too far behind (although it hasn't actually been written yet). Thanks for everyone who has reviewed this story so far- it really does help the quality of my writing.
Warnings: There are some mentions of physical abuse in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise probably doesn't belong to me. Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. The song lyrics belong to the people who wrote them.
Chapter 13: Occlumency
I've got another confession my friend; I'm no fool.
I'm getting tired of starting again, somewhere new.
Were you born to resist or be abused?
I swear I'll never give in, I refuse.
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
'Best Of You,' Foo Fighters
"I want my mind to be my mind again! I want him out!"
Harry's words haunted Dumbledore as he sat at his desk, his head in his hands once again as he waited for Harry's first Occlumency lesson with him.
If only the boy knew...
Harry's mind would never be his own, not so long as Voldemort lived, and it was that fact that was threatening to pull Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Leader of the Light, into a sea of despair. If he was right, and deep down he knew that he was, then Harry would never completely be free of Voldemort until he was defeated, because a piece of the Dark Lord, a piece that was helping to keep the evil wizard alive, was inside of the young man.
What was worse, Dumbledore knew that he could not tell Harry about this, even despite the fact that it felt as if he was betraying the boy all over again. He simply could not add that final, terrible burden. That Harry's own life force was currently keeping Voldemort tied to this earth. That so long as Harry lived, Voldemort could not be destroyed. Neither could live. Neither would survive.
Harry had been marked by Voldemort that Halloween night in more ways than one. Marked physically, mentally; marked by a destiny that none of them would be able to control.
The Headmaster sighed as he thought about the lack of control they had over it. Dumbledore hated it, and had searched long and hard for a way to get around the fact that the foreign soul in Harry had to be destroyed so that peace could reign once again. Harry would need to be sacrificed.
For the Greater Good.
How he despised those words now. They taunted him with his mistakes, and yet he could see no way around it. Already he had put the life of Harry, the happiness of the boy, ahead of what was best for the fight, and it had ended disastrously. He would not lie to Harry, but he could not make the same mistake again. For love, he had risked the fate of the world; he knew he could not do so again. Harry could not be told. Not yet.
He wasn't ready. Neither of them were.
Again, Albus saw that he was falling into the same trap that he had fallen into last year, but this time, he was resolute. Harry did not need to know this. In this case, it was not just for the Greater Good; it was for the good of Harry himself.
The prophecy did not dictate when this final confrontation between Harry and Voldemort would take place, nor did it specify the manner in which one would defeat the other. Harry may have years to prepare. Years to live. Above all, Dumbledore wanted Harry to live.
The leader of the Order of the Phoenix felt like a helpless observer of fate; cursed to sit by and watch as Harry's destiny unfolded.
But he would give his dying breath before he simply presented the boy to be killed without a fight. Albus knew, even if he had to completely forgo sleep, that he would find a way to save Harry. He would find a way for Harry to survive. He had to.
As his thoughts continued to revolve around Voldemort and Harry, his mind turned to the problem that the other Horcruxes presented. For he knew, as shocking as it may be, that Voldemort, in his folly, had created more than one. He had proof in the form of the diary that Harry had destroyed in only his second year, and more recently, in the form of the Gaunt ring. He had been tempted, he admitted to himself in shame, by what he suspected the ring really was.
The Resurrection Stone.
In a trance, he had almost put the ring on, desperate to see his parents and sister again; craving their forgiveness. In the end, though, he had won the battle and resisted the temptation. Thoughts of Harry, and the pain that the boy had been in, gave his mind clarity in the desperation, and he knew, somehow, that if he tried to put it on, his life would be forfeit. He would not give his life away so cheaply, not for his own sake, but for the sake of the people who needed him. For Harry.
Dumbledore was pulled out of his pensive thoughts when he heard a light knock.
Not expecting any other visitors apart from Harry, Dumbledore knew it was the teenager arriving for his first Occlumency lesson. Tension wound up through Albus as he tried to prepare himself for the lesson. The venerable Headmaster was anxious; no matter what he taught Harry about the art of Occlumency, he really had no idea what effect it would be able to have on the connection between Voldemort and the young man. He wondered which one of them would be most nervous about the lessons.
From the look of the pale, apprehensive figure in front of him, Albus suspected that it wasn't himself.
"Take a seat, Harry," he said gently. "I would like to talk about a few things with you, before we begin."
As he took in the nervous and unusually quiet figure in front of him, Dumbledore knew that something was troubling his student. Albus couldn't help but be worried about the young man, and he certainly wasn't the only one.
Harry's birthday had been just over a week ago, but the happiness had quickly evaporated as his training had begun. No one, not even Moody, had failed to notice the strain that the lessons had been putting on the teenager.
During the days, Harry seemingly acted as normal; when he wasn't training, he joined in with Quidditch games and chess matches with the Weasley children, but even they had noticed something off about his mood, no matter how much the boy tried to hide it. It was clear that Harry's mind was often elsewhere, far removed from frivolous games of chess. It was a common occurrence for a guard patrolling the castle corridors late at night to meet Harry in some quiet corner of the castle, staring out of a window, deep in thought.
He had even occasionally missed meals, only to be found, some time later, in the kitchens on his own. Albus could see the worry etched on young Ronald's face, as he quietly observed the strain his best friend was putting himself under, and the Headmaster couldn't help but share that worry. But the truth was, none of them knew what exactly what was troubling the young man, nevermind how to help him.
"I noticed you received your OWL results yesterday," said Dumbledore lightly, hoping to get the young man to open up a bit more. "I trust you did well?"
Harry just shrugged, and Dumbledore realised that whatever was bothering the boy, it would need to be dealt with. He couldn't bear it if Harry began to seep back into his previous depression. After talking to Harry about his grief, Dumbledore had seen improvement in Harry's mood, but whatever was affecting Harry now was undoing all of his progress.
"Well, you will need to leave one period free when you choose which classes you will take. I wish for you to take private lessons with me," Dumbledore said. He heard the words leave his lips before he was even aware of thinking them, and yet he was certain he was doing the right thing. He may not be ready to tell Harry about the Horcrux that lived on inside him, but he was sure that the knowledge of Horcruxes themselves was a necessary part of Harry's teaching. The training that Harry was currently undergoing with Moody was important, yes, but it was strictly for self-defence. Harry was not going to defeat Voldemort on strength of skill alone, that much Dumbledore was sure of. Voldemort was too strong, too powerful. Voldemort would not be killed by strength, but by knowledge. And if Harry was to defeat him, he had to know as much as Dumbledore could tell him.
"So, Harry," said Dumbledore as he looked at the pale teenager from above his half-moon spectacles, "do you know the basic principles of Occlumency?"
Harry looked up, somewhat surprised at the sudden change of subject, and still trying to get his head around the idea of private lessons with Dumbledore.
"I think so," replied Harry uncertainly. "Occlumency is used to protect a person's mind against an external penetration."
"You've been doing some reading," said Dumbledore shrewdly.
"Some," acknowledged Harry reluctantly.
"Well, you are essentially correct," continued Dumbledore, when Harry failed to elaborate, "although not entirely. Occlumency is also used to organise one's thoughts. It is believed, and I must say I agree, that if a person's mind is well organised, recognising a threat, and then expelling that threat, becomes much easier to accomplish."
At Harry's somewhat apprehensive look, Dumbledore moved to reassure him.
"It is much easier than it sounds, Harry," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "The hard part is when you actually try to expel the foreign mind from your thoughts and memories, or at the very least misdirect them. That is what we will begin working on today. When you are on your own, perhaps before you go to sleep, I would like you to try and organise your memories. Meditation, I find is useful here, because it gives you the chance to become better acquainted with your own mind. It can be enlightening to discover how your mind works. I suspect not many people think about it."
"Snape said I should clear my mind," said Harry resentfully.
"Professor Snape is not wrong," said Dumbledore sternly, recognising the anger that was present in the voice of the teenager. "There are different approaches to the teaching of Occlumency. Professor Snape's way did not work for you, but that does not mean it could not work for someone else. I have a different approach that I suspect will work better. We shall see."
"It didn't work because I didn't try hard enough," Harry said dejectedly. "I wanted information, and it was the only way I could think to get it."
"It is not your fault Harry," assured Dumbledore. "As I said on the night that we lost Sirius; it was my fault, and my fault alone."
Without giving Harry time to protest, as he knew he would, Dumbledore continued.
"Now, prepare yourself. Closing off your emotions is essential, which is why Professor Snape advised you to clear your mind. It gives a person more control, and makes it easier to notice a presence that does not belong there."
Harry closed his eyes, and after a few moments of deep breathing, opened them and nodded towards his Professor to indicate that he was ready. Dumbledore noticed that Harry's right hand, the hand that was holding his wand up, was shaking ever so slightly.
"Alright then, Harry," said Dumbledore. "For this first attempt, I will not try to enter stealthily; I want you to get used to feeling a foreign presence first."
Upon noticing Harry's worried look, Dumbledore moved to reassure him. "Don't worry, my boy, I'll be as gentle as possible.
When he noticed that Harry had visibly relaxed, he continued. "Well then, if you are ready we will begin on the count of three"
He raised his wand, an action mirrored by Harry. "One...two...three...Legilimens!"
Harry felt Dumbledore's presence immediately, but it felt completely different to the way in which Snape had tried to breach his feeble protection.
Where Snape had sped through his memories, disorientating Harry further and making it more difficult to gain control, Dumbledore apparently took his time giving Harry time to gather his senses and gain some semblance of control. The down side, of course, was that Dumbledore had free access to his memories and Harry, at present, could do little to stop him. He didn't know how. Memories played before his eyes in excruciating detail, from his childhood to the more innocuous memories of his day to day life at Hogwarts, and Harry found himself powerless to stop them. Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried to force Dumbledore out, but it made no difference; the memories of his life agonisingly continued to play.
Harry struggled with the battle that was raging in his mind, and he didn't know how much time had passed since Dumbledore had first cast the spell. Time was irrelevant to the young man as he tried fruitlessly to eject his Professor from his memories.
The memory switched yet again, and Harry found himself immediately recognising this particular memory with mounting horror. He had been seven at the time.
He remembered entering the kitchen of the Dursley house, fresh from a day at school, holding something behind his back.
"What is it, boy?" snapped his Aunt when Harry tried to get her attention.
"I have something...for you," replied Harry quietly.
From behind his back, he pulled out a card and handed it to Aunt Petunia. It was a mother's day card he had made at school.
"Do you like it?" Harry asked shyly and nervously, bravely giving his Aunt a small smile.
His Aunt just looked at the card, ignoring Harry completely, and Harry found he couldn't decipher the expression on her face. To Harry's horror and devastation, however, she simply threw the card into the kitchen bin.
"I am not your mother," she snapped sharply. "Now leave me alone."
And Harry did, although he could not prevent the tears from running down his face...
"No more!" Harry shouted as he forced the stinging memory away. He had forgotten that day. It had been pushed away to the back of his mind until now.
As Harry shook the remnants of emotion that the memory had stirred up, he realised that not only had he forced Dumbledore out of his mind, but he had done so without resorting to using his wand.
"Not bad, Harry," said Dumbledore pleasantly, although he was slightly paler than usual as he watched Harry pick himself off the floor. "You were able to expel me from your mind eventually, but only to protect that particular memory. However, I was able to see the others easily. We need to work on protecting all your memories, not just certain ones."
Dumbledore didn't seem to need to discuss that particular memory, Harry noted with relief.
"How are you feeling?" asked Dumbledore, a concerned expression on his face.
"Alright, I suppose," said Harry, rubbing his scar. He could definitely feel a headache coming on.
"Shall we try once more then, my boy?" asked Dumbledore, and Harry nodded quickly, desperately eager to learn the skill that had troubled him for so long, and bolstered somewhat by the praise.
"This time, I think we will try a different approach," said Dumbledore. "I want you to misdirect me, rather than expel me completely."
"How, sir?" asked Harry eagerly. "How do I do that?"
"Close your eyes." Harry obeyed immediately, and Dumbledore continued. "Now I want you to think of a safe place. Somewhere where you feel calm and protected. Choosing a safe place will help you to keep better control of your emotions, and therefore your mind. It can be anywhere, but I do suggest you choose somewhere that you know well. It will help when you try to keep that image in your mind."
"Do you have a place in mind?" Dumbledore asked, when Harry had been quiet for some time.
"Yeah," replied Harry reluctantly.
"May I ask where you have chosen?"
"My cupboard," Harry replied quietly, reddening slightly.
"Wha - ?"
"I don't want to talk about it," interrupted Harry flatly.
Dumbledore gave Harry a long, hard look, but didn't push the subject further, recognising correctly that now was not the right time to confront the teenager about it.
"Do you have a picture of this...cupboard in your mind?" asked Dumbledore with difficulty.
At Harry's nod, Dumbledore raised his wand once again. "Alright, then we will try once more. This time, instead of trying to force me out, I want you to think only of the...cupboard. If you are successful, it should be all I can see."
The Headmaster raised his wand once again. "One...two...three...Legilimens!"
This time, there was no flashing off memories. All Harry could see was darkness. He could feel sweat poring off his face as he tried to maintain the image of the darkened cupboard that had featured so heavily in his childhood. He may have despised it, but the truth was he had always felt safe in the darkness. Lonely and bored, but safe. He could feel himself tiring, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the image up much longer.
A crack of light began to appear in the darkness, and it was with a growing sense of horror that Harry watched as the cupboard door of the image he had been trying to project swung open. He found himself in an unwanted memory of an angry Uncle.
"What did you do!" seethed Uncle Vernon. He was dragged from his cupboard roughly, and brought, blinking, into the light of the hallway. Judging by the pictures of Dudley on the wall, he had only been about five at the time.
"I didn't!" cried Harry, as his Uncle shook him. "I was in my cupboard the whole time, I promise!"
"You little liar!" said Uncle Vernon, not lessening his grip on his young nephew's arm. "Dudley's party was going well¸ and then all of a sudden everyone starts getting sick! What did you do!"
Despite the protests that young Harry was making, Uncle Vernon seemed beyond reason. He continued to grip and yell at the small boy, until, with a sickening crack that Harry could still remember to this day, his young arm snapped at an unnatural angle.
Harry cried out in pain and Uncle Vernon immediately dropped his nephew in shock. Harry slid to the floor, gripping his arm tightly to his chest, tears flooding down his cheeks.
"Stay there!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic, as his nephew tried to stand up. "Just...stay!"
"Petunia! Petunia...
"Stop! Just stop!" yelled Harry as he felt Dumbledore leave his mind. Whether it was because he had forced him out, or if Dumbledore had chosen to leave, Harry didn't care.
"Why did you have to watch that!" Harry cried inconsolably, his face a picture of anguish as he tried desperately to rid his mind of the horrifying memory that had been pushed to the back of his consciousness until now. "Why couldn't you just leave it alone?"
Refusing to look at his mentor, and without turning back, Harry ran through the door and down the winding staircase. Without even stopping to even take a breath, and with his head pounding in rhythm to his heavily beating heart, Harry sprinted down the corridors and away from Dumbledore's office.
When he finally became aware of what he was doing, Harry realised that he had come back to the top of the Astronomy tower without even thinking about it. It was fast becoming his favourite place to come when he needed space. At the moment, it was what he needed most.
Harry didn't quite understand why he had reacted so strongly to that particular memory; it wasn't like Dumbledore didn't already know how the Dursleys had treated him. It wasn't as if he had to hide it anymore.
And yet...
Dumbledore had only known about the treatment; he hadn't seen it before. No one had. He had known when he asked Dumbledore for Occlumency lessons that memories such as that would come out, but it appeared that he hadn't been quite prepared enough. It had shocked him, even more so because he had always tried to forget the worse things that had happened during his childhood. He had moved on, but by being confronted with the memory of that time in his life... it brought all the bad things back. Everything he had tried so hard to forget, or at least push to the back of his mind.
He didn't know how long he stood at the window, staring out across the grounds and lost in his thoughts, but eventually his heart returned to a calmer rhythm and his breathing went back to normal. He was just trying to decide if it was worth going to the Great Hall for dinner, when he heard footsteps coming up the stone stairs to the tower. He knew who it would be.
"Sorry I ran out, Professor," said Harry despondently, without turning to greet Dumbledore.
"It's alright Harry," replied Dumbledore quietly as he moved to his student's side.
Harry just shrugged. He folded his arms protectively across his chest as he continued to look out of the window.
"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Dumbledore gently, his face white as he took in the state of the boy in front of him. Although Harry had calmed down considerably, he was still clearly not okay.
"I'm fine," replied Harry shakily.
"Forgive me, Harry," said Dumbledore, "but I don't quite believe you."
Harry shrugged once more, and Dumbledore had to swallow his guilt at the situation. It was all his fault.
It was clear by Harry's demeanor that he was closing in on himself once again. Dumbledore could see that Harry didn't want to talk about the memory, but Dumbledore couldn't let him pretend that nothing happened. The memory had clearly affected the teenager, and Dumbledore needed to hear about it. And what's more, Harry needed to tell him.
"How many times did that happen, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, trying in vein to control his anger at the Dursleys.
"O-Only once," Harry choked out, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Aunt Petunia stopped him after that. He never went...that far again."
At the prolonged silence that followed this statement, Harry raised his head and chanced a brief look at his mentor. Dumbledore had paled dramatically, and his eyes were closed tightly.
"They were wrong," said Dumbledore, his voice graver than Harry had ever heard it, and more serious than Harry had dared belief was possible of the usually jovial Professor.
"He didn't mean to break my arm," said Harry defensively, although he wasn't quite sure why. "It was an accident – "
"That doesn't matter," interrupted Dumbledore angrily, although his anger was directed at Vernon Dursley rather than Harry. "They were wrong to treat you like that. Harry, my boy, you do know that? Tell me you know – "
"I know...I mean...I do now, anyway. I didn't when I was younger," Harry replied reluctantly.
At Dumbledore's rapidly paling face, Harry moved quickly to reassure his Professor.
"It always felt wrong, but...I had no one to tell me that. No one to show me how I was supposed to be treated. I suppose...I suppose I got used to it, in a way."
"But I know they shouldn't have done it," Harry said quickly before Dumbledore could respond. "That I did nothing wrong. I didn't deserve it. I know that, Professor. I do."
"It's just..." Harry continued as he tried to gather his thoughts. "worse things have happened to me. It doesn't matter any more."
"You will never go back there," said Dumbledore, and Harry was taken aback by the strength in his mentor's words. "Never."
"What about the blood wards?" Harry asked, hardly daring to hope.
"You only would have had the protection for one more year anyway," said Dumbledore, his voice hard as he considered the price for that protection. "We will just have to break the wards early."
"But...what about the Dursleys?" asked Harry quietly. "Won't they be vulnerable?"
"I will add some other protection," said Dumbledore, looking like it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He put an aged hand on the young man's shoulder, hoping to reassure him. "They will be safe enough."
"Thanks," said Harry quietly, "I don't want them to be hurt. Not because of me."
"And that is precisely why I have complete faith that one day you will defeat Voldemort, Harry," said Dumbledore with a proud smile, but the statement seemed to have the opposite effect on Harry. He shrugged Dumbledore's hand away from his shoulder, and took a step away from his Professor.
"No I won't," mumbled Harry so quietly that Dumbledore had to strain to hear it. "The Prophecy's wrong. I can't do it."
"You can," said Dumbledore, aware that it was these thoughts that clearly had something to do with his deteriorating mood in the past few weeks.
"How then! How do I do it?" cried Harry suddenly, his expression desperate. Dumbledore flinched at the pain in Harry's voice. "HOW?"
"I can't, I can't do it," he continued dejectedly, refusing to look his mentor in the eyes, expecting only disappointment in his expression. "I'm not strong enough. I'll never be strong enough."
"You already are, Harry," said Dumbledore sadly, realising that Harry was genuinely terrified of this. "You are the strongest person I know."
"I don't think I am," Harry said quietly.
"Harry, forgive me, but I must disagree," said Dumbledore lifting Harry's chin so that he could make sure that his words got across to the young man. "When you were only eleven, you got past numerous protections and you were willing to give your life to prevent Voldemort from returning. When you were twelve you willingly entered the Chamber of Secrets to save a girl you barely even knew. You went back in time to save a Godfather you had only known for a few hours when you were thirteen. When you were fourteen you saw Voldemort return, and yet you still escaped, and last year you risked your life again, to save Sirius. You took on Death Eaters and found yourself equal to them!"
"Its not the same!"
"No, it isn't," Dumbledore conceded, "because in each of those situations, you did not have training and you did not know enough magic. And yet you survived, Harry! You fought, and you won!"
"Don't you see?" he continued when Harry didn't repspond. "You are so strong; stronger than anyone that I've ever met!"
"I was lucky," argued Harry, unwilling to give in yet.
"You had weapons. The sword, the brother wands, your mother's protection," insisted Dumbledore. "But you used them! When anyone else would have given in, you were brave! Can you not see how amazing you are? How unusual? How incredible?"
When Harry just looked shell-shocked in reply, Dumbledore took a deep breath and continued.
"Occlumency would never have worked in the way we have been trying to teach you," he said, shaking his head in regret as he added yet another mistake to his growing list. "You are the exception to the rule once again Harry. For most, clearing your mind is essential in order to protect it. For you, it seems, the opposite is true. I should have seen it. When you were possessed by Voldemort, what was it that saved you?"
"I thought of Sirius," Harry said quietly.
"It was love," Dumbledore corrected gently. "Emotion at its most intense. I think we should perhaps find some way to apply this principle to Occlumency. I will give it some thought, Harry."
"Okay," said Harry shakily.
Apparently satisfied with Harry's answer, at least for now, Dumbledore began to move towards the door.
"I think we should leave the Occlumency lesson there for tonight, however," said Dumbledore gently. "We will continue another time, if you are still willing?"
At Harry's nod, Dumbledore allowed a small smile to grace his face. He patted Harry on the shoulder once more before walking calmly out of the door. He had said all he could to convince Harry that all was not yet lost.
The rest was up to Harry now, and honestly, Dumbledore knew the young man would be alright.
He truly was stronger than them all.
A/N- So, how was this chapter? I particularly want to know if people like the interaction between Harry and Dumbledore. Are Harry's moods swinging too much? I wanted to show that even if he overcame one reason for depression (grief), he would still have others. His life isn't great, but it's starting to get better ('starting' is the key word). He will have relapses, but at least this year he isn't going to be left alone to deal with them. Oh, and if people are wondering where Remus is, he's taking a step back because he knows Dumbledore is helping Harry. Don't worry though; he will play a big part later on. The story will be moving on much more quickly now, and even though updates might be a bit slower (I have exams), I hope it's worth the wait. Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know what you think.
Coming up... Chapter 14: Learning Curves