The next morning-Tuesday morning-Harry watched as a school owl delivered his message to Katie during breakfast. She read it and, without reacting, crumbled the parchment and shoved it into the pocket of her robes. Harry concealed a grin with his hand; Katie was getting good hiding her emotions. If Harry hadn't known better, he would never have thought that she was reading a message that was scheduling a secret snogging.
Harry's second class of the day was Defense. Despite Umbridge's increasingly bold provocations toward the end of last term, Harry was managing to mostly stay out of trouble. All that changed the moment he walked into the Defense classroom.
"Detention, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, as soon as Harry stepped through the door.
"For what?" Harry asked.
"Tardiness," Umbridge said.
"Really?" Harry asked. He gestured around the room; it was only half-full. "Class doesn't start for five minutes."
"Not to class," Umbridge said. "Your return to Hogwarts from winter holidays was over twelve hours late."
"I cleared that with the headmaster," Harry said.
"You violated a rule," Umbridge replied. "Although, hem hem, 'Headmaster' Dumbledore might encourage wanton rulebreaking, I do not. And pursuant to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor is in charge of all punishments." Umbridge smiled. "For your tardiness, you will receive detention."
Harry sighed. "Fine. When?"
"Friday evening," Umbridge said. Harry was fine with that; it was an inconvenient time generally, but it wouldn't conflict with his meeting with Katie.
When classes were over for the day, Harry found Hermione in the library. Harry didn't plan on studying—there was no need to begin revising so soon after break, no matter what Hermione said—but he did need to schedule the next D.A. meeting.
"When do you think we should meet next?" Harry asked quietly, once he was certain that nobody was eavesdropping.
"Friday," Hermione said.
Harry frowned. "I have detention. Why not Saturday or Sunday?"
"Quidditch," Hermione said. "We can't do it sooner; there isn't enough notice. And I want to get a meeting in during our first week back, so people don't forget."
"Are you going to be okay, running things on your own?" Harry said.
"I'll be fine," Hermione replied. "I always have Ron and Ginny to help, if I need something."
That sounded pretty reasonable to Harry. If things went well, then that was good for Hermione. If they didn't, then Harry would be one step closer to seizing control of the D.A.
Harry was in a fairly good mood when he returned to the Slytherin Common Room, but his mood immediately soured when he entered his dormitory and discovered Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle standing around his bed. All of them were wearing their new Inquisitional Squad badges. The badges were truly horrid, now that Harry could see them up close; the badge was a pink shield, and on the shield was a lavender lowercase letter "i," dotted with an eyeball. Harry could only assume that "i" stood for "inquisition," and he thought the eyeball image was rather heavy-handed.
"Nice trunk, Harriett," Draco said, nodding toward the end of Harry's bed. "I especially love the flowers."
Harry glanced at his trunk. There was a vine-pattern carved around the lid of his trunk, and there were, indeed, flowers growing on the vine, along with leaves and grapes. Harry hadn't thought the pattern was particularly feminine, but a quick look around the dormitory revealed that none of the other boys' trunks had any sort of embellishment.
"I liked the trunk more than the flowers," Harry said with a shrug, affecting nonchalance. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're attracted to decoration more than the craftsmanship."
Draco didn't rise to Harry's bait. "Open it up," Draco said.
"My trunk? No." That was absurd.
Draco stepped forward and reached into his pocket. He removed a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.
Inquisition Decree Number 2 – Members of the Inquisitorial Squad may turn out a student's trunk, in order to inspect for contraband.
Harry read the decree twice before looking up. Draco was smirking.
"Open it up," Draco repeated.
"No," Harry repeated. He looked down at the Inquisition Decree and began to read aloud. "'Members of the Inquisitorial Squad may turn out a student's trunk.' So, go ahead. Open up my trunk. I dare you."
Draco snatched the parchment out of Harry's hands and read it again, and again. And again. Finally, Draco glanced over his shoulder. "Goyle, open up the trunk."
"What?" Goyle asked. "No!" Draco scowled and turned, but Goyle continued to shake his head. "No way am I touching that!"
Harry grinned. Goyle had learned his lesson, after trying to curse Harry in his sleep at the beginning of the year.
"I told you, your inquisition is a joke," Harry said to Draco. "Thanks for wasting my time." Harry turned away from Draco and left the dormitory. Harry knew that he would have to return later and empty his trunk of all contraband—curse books, cursed books, anything related to defense or dueling, his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map… all would need to be stored somewhere else. He might have been able to dodge Inquisitional Decree Number 2, but Harry had a pretty fair idea that he would soon see Inquisitional Decree Number 3: Members of the Inquisitional Squad may order a student to turn out his or her trunk, in order to inspect for contraband.
Harry needed a safe hiding spot. He could use the Chamber of Secrets, but that would be a lot of trouble to access, especially since his broom was still at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. What he needed was someplace safe, someplace easy for him to access but difficult for the Inquisition.
Harry smiled slowly. He knew exactly where he would store his things. Harry needed a safe place to hide things… he needed it so badly that one might almost say he Required it.
*!*!*!*
Harry arrived at Snape's office promptly at seven-thirty for his first Occlumency lesson. Snape was seated behind his desk.
"Close the door behind you, then sit," Snape said. Harry did so. "Before we embark on your lessons," Snape said, rising out of his own chair, "we must assess your inherent skill. Prepare yourself." Snape drew his wand and raised it to his shoulder.
"For what?" Harry said, suddenly frightened.
"Try to keep me out of your mind," Snape said. "Ligilimens."
Harry was suddenly tumbling through his own memories. He was at the zoo with Dudley, just before his own eleventh birthday. He was running from Dudley and Piers, just before the dementor attack. He was inflating Dudley's Aunt Marge, after she insulted his parents.
And then the memories disappeared, and Harry found himself back in Snape's office. Sweat had broken out on Harry's forehead, and he was breathing heavily.
"A poor performance," Snape said. "Have you been clearing your mind before you fall asleep each night?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"Liar," Snape said slowly.
"I'm not lying," Harry snapped. "You said 'prepare yourself,' not 'clear your mind.'"
"I gave you one instruction prior to this lesson," Snape said. "Why would you do anything else?"
Harry glared at Snape. "Let's try again."
"Legilimens," Snape said suddenly.
Snape had given Harry only a moment to clear his mind, but Harry felt like he had done a reasonable job. Instead of immediately being thrown into his own memories, Harry experienced several seconds of inky blackness and the sensation of pressure. Then, with unexpected suddenness, Harry was launched once again into his past. Tracey spraying a Hufflepuff with water in the hallway. Draco reconciling with Harry after facing the boggart during third year. Pansy on the Hogwarts Express. Pansy, accepting her birthday present last year. Pansy, holding Harry's hand and leading him into a broom cupboard.
And then, the present. Harry was bent forward, now, elbows on his knees, taking deep gasping breaths. His wand was in his hand, even though he didn't remember drawing it from his robes. Harry looked up and saw that Snape was rubbing the bicep of his wand arm.
"Did I tell you to use a stinging jinx?" Snape asked.
"No."
"Then why did you?"
"I didn't know I was doing it," Harry said. "I just… that was private."
Snape sneered. "Do you think the Dark Lord will hesitate to use your most private memories against you?"
"I didn't think you were the Dark Lord," Harry said.
Snape stared at Harry for several seconds. "Your unconscious use of a stinging jinx suggests that you have some inherent talent for occlumency. Woefully under-developed, of course."
"Maybe it wouldn't be under-developed if you taught me something instead of just rifling through my memories."
"This is an assessment, Potter," Snape said. "I cannot teach you properly unless I understand your current talent… or lack thereof."
Harry sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "So, again?"
"Again," Snape said. He waited one second, then two. "Legilimens!"
After nearly an hour of bombardment, Snape finally called a halt to the assessment. Harry was covered in cold sweat. His hands were clammy, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. After the first few rounds, Harry had improved slightly… until he was overcome with exhaustion. By the end, Harry was as helpless as he had been during his first attempt at occlumency.
"Have you learned anything, Potter?" Snape asked.
"I've learned that I'm helpless, apparently," Harry said. "So how do I get better? What can I practice?"
"Before you go to sleep, practice clearing your mind," Snape said.
"Clear my mind? That's it?" Harry shook his head.
"At this stage, yes," Snape said.
"But it doesn't do anything!" Harry exclaimed. Yelling at Snape was a dangerous thing to do, but Snape's instructions seemed stupid.
Snape sighed. "As I said before, I had hoped that you would conduct some independent research into the subject. If you had, you would have learned that learning to clear your mind is the vital first step toward the many protections of occlumency."
"How is clearing my mind supposed to protect me from that sort of assault?" Harry asked.
"If your mind has been cleared of thought, then your thoughts are not vulnerable to attack," Snape snapped. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Snape forged onward. "A clear mind can easily recognize when it is under attack, under inspection, or under surveillance. And, most importantly, clearing your mind teaches you control," Snape said with a sneer. "Something you are sorely lacking. If you cannot control your mind, then you cannot protect it."
"Thank you for the explanation," Harry said, with only a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. "At least I understand what I'm doing, now."
"Do your own research, Potter," Snape said. "At your age, I was writing my own spells. Your father had managed to set aside his arrogance for long enough to become an animagus. Surely you can trouble yourself to open a book."
"You and Dumbledore both said that this was an obscure branch of magic," Harry said. "Is there really a book about occlumency just sitting around the library?"
"The Restricted Section is full of such oddities," Snape said.
"I can't-"
"I know that you haven't been granted access to the Restricted Section," Snape said curtly. "That has never stopped you before."
Harry folded his arms and scowled.
"We have done enough for tonight," Snape said. The older man turned away from Harry and waved vaguely at the door. "Return to my office on Thursday evening. By that time, I expect you to have begun your own research into occlumency. Continue to clear your mind before sleep, as well."
Harry gritted his teeth together and stormed out of Snape's office. That lesson had been completely unfair, and it had left him totally exhausted. Harry had no problem with clearing his mind before bed, but Snape assumed that Harry would be sleeping tonight. With every passing moment, the prospect of sleep looked less and less likely to Harry. Snape had practically ordered Harry to sneak into the Restricted Section with his invisibility cloak; it didn't seem like a big job, but if Harry wanted to properly avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris and search through the Restricted Section without making any noise, the whole business would take at least a couple of hours. And not only that, but Harry also had to empty his trunk and hide his things in the Room of Requirement. On top of it all, Harry would have to wait until his dorm-mates were soundly asleep before beginning any of his nighttime activities. He wouldn't be getting started until well after midnight.
*!*!*!*
Harry decided that emptying his trunk and securing his things into the Room of Requirement was the most urgent matter at hand. He had two days before his next lesson with Snape, but there was no telling when Draco would show up with a modified Inquisitional Decree and begin inspecting Harry's things.
Harry waited until everybody was asleep in his dormitory before draping his invisibility cloak over himself and creeping out of bed. Harry cast a silencing charm on his trunk, transfigured one of his bed sheets into a sack, and unloaded all his contraband from his trunk—books of spells and curses, books about Defense, and, carefully wrapped and stored in a wooden box, the mirror that Harry used to communicate with Sirius. Harry was surprised by how much room was left afterwards; there had been more illegal things in his trunk than legal. Once his trunk was closed and secure, Harry threw the sack over his shoulder, adjusted his cloak, and made his way toward the Room of Requirement, using the Marauder's Map to avoid the evening patrol of Minerva McGonagall. When Harry arrived at the empty stretch of hallway, his thought was simple: I need someplace to hide things.
Harry could not have been more surprised by the room he entered. It was a vast chamber with a ceiling supported by enormous pillars and arches. The room was lit by torchlight, and in the gloom Harry was barely able to see the ceiling, and completely unable to see any of the room's walls. Inside the room were massive piles of… everything. Broken furniture, old clothes, statutes, countless schoolbooks, miscellaneous toys, just about anything that Harry could imagine. Harry needed someplace hide his belongings, and this certainly qualified. It would be impossible to find anything in this chamber, unless you knew exactly where to look.
Harry set off to his left. He counted two piles to the left and three piles back, and made note of some landmarks that he passed while he walked: a high-backed chair that looked out of place in an enormous pile of desks; a large wardrobe standing next to a bust that was wearing a tarnished tiara; a heap of ancient and threadbare school robes. Satisfied that he had chosen a sufficiently random location, Harry emptied his sack into a chest of drawers and secured his items with the strongest sticking charms he could muster. It wouldn't prevent a focused attempt to access, but it should be enough to discourage the casually curious. Not that anybody frequented this version of the room—everything was covered in thick dust—but it never hurt to be careful.
When Harry was done in the Room of Requirement, he proceeded to the library. After a brief detour to avoid Mrs. Norris and Filch, Harry slipped into the Restricted Section. His search for a book on occlumency was successful, but it took far longer than he would have liked. Dumbledore had not been kidding when he said that occlumency was an obscure branch of magic. Eventually, though, Harry found a few tomes on the subject. The Secret Mind gave an overview of the basic principles of both legilimency and occlumency, and discussed some of the theory behind each branch of magic. Obfuscation Techniques was more practical, and suggested exercises that would help Harry occlude his mind. The last volume, The Mind Trap, was the most advanced, and discussed theory on a level that Harry wasn't even sure he understood. Harry tucked it in his bag, regardless.
When Harry returned to his dormitory, it was almost four thirty in the morning. Alarms began to ring at seven, and Harry forced himself out of bed. Breakfast was a chore, and Harry didn't even attempt to engage in conversation with Tracey and Theo. Luckily, Harry's first class on Wednesday was History of Magic, a class that was known among less diligent students as 'naptime.'
As soon as he arrived, Harry took his seat next to Theo and placed a quill in his right hand atop a piece of parchment. With his left hand, Harry propped up his chin. Harry turned his head down toward the desk and parchment, adjusted his arm slightly so that Binns could not see his face, and closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Harry dreamt about a blue door, of course, and his dream was interrupted by Theo's elbow being jabbed into his ribs. "Harry, Binns wants you."
Harry raised his head, trying not to look as if he had been sleeping. The rest of the students were packing up; it seemed that class had ended. He hadn't been caught, but Harry also had no idea why Binns would want to talk to him. Harry quickly threw his things into his bag, then approached the ghostly professor at the front of the class.
"Mr. Potter, I wanted to speak with you about your research paper," Binns said.
"I turned it in on time," Harry said defensively. He wouldn't be surprised if someone on the Inquisitional Squad had nicked it off Binns' desk, though.
"Oh, that isn't the problem," Binns said. "As you know, this assignment was made at the behest of the Ministry and the Hogwarts High Inquisitor…" Harry nodded his understanding. "The High Inquisitor has taken it upon herself to review several of the papers, and yours was selected for review."
Harry sighed. Of course it was. "What did she say?"
"She expressed some concern over your choice of subjects. Atherton is a rather… unconventional selection, and you seem to have ignored the more controversial portions of his life. Personally, I was excited to see a wizard such as Mylor Atherton as the subject of a student paper; his good works have largely been forgotten. But, I am forced to agree with the High Inquisitor."
"The assignment wasn't to tell his life story," Harry said. "It was to write about somebody important."
"Nevertheless, the High Inquisitor suggested that you be given no credit for this assignment. She called it 'woefully incomplete.'"
"You're not giving me credit!?" Harry exclaimed. "That paper did everything you asked!"
Binns held up his translucent hands. "Mr. Potter. Professors may no longer control discipline, but they still control their grades. I am offering you the opportunity to write a supplement your paper. The subject of the supplement will be the second half of Atherton's time with the Ministry, and the circumstances under which he was dismissed. If you complete the supplement, you will receive full credit."
"And if I don't?" Harry asked. He had better things to do than twice the work for the same credit.
"Then you will receive no points for the assignment," Binns said simply.
"I thought you said that you still controlled your grades."
"I also said that I am forced to agree with the High Inquisitor," Binns said, ignoring Harry's tone. "She is correct; your paper, as written, is incomplete. If it is made complete, however, you will be rewarded for your efforts."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Is there anything else?"
"Your supplement will be due at the beginning of class on Friday," Binns said. That gave Harry tonight and tomorrow to write his supplement. Harry was thankful that he had scheduled his meeting with Katie to take place almost immediately after classes were over—he would have time to read and write before dinner. "Good luck with your research, Mr. Potter."
Harry made a noncommittal noise in his throat, and walked out of the room. This week just kept getting better.
When Harry returned to the Slytherin common room after classes, he had a throbbing headache. He had managed to keep himself awake through Arithmancy, but only by giving the inside of his cheek a vicious bite whenever he noticed his eyes drooping. Harry was looking forward to a nap—a long nap—but as soon as he stepped inside his dormitory Harry discovered that there would be no sleep in his future. Draco was once again standing at the foot of Harry's bed, clutching an Inquisitional Decree in his hands. Crabbe and Goyle were again flanking Draco, each with a stupid grin on his face.
Behind them all, arms folded, stood Delores Umbridge.
"Hello everybody," Harry said as he approached his bed. He gave them a flippant wave. "What can I do for you?"
"Turn out your trunk," Draco said, holding out the Inquisition Decree. Harry took the decree and read it.
Inquisition Decree Number 3 - Members of the Inquisitorial Squad may ORDER a student turn out his or her, to allow the contents of the trunk to be inspected contraband. A student who does not comply with such an order is subject to discipline at the discretion of the High Inquisitor.
"That last part is redundant," Harry said, handing the decree back. "All discipline is already at the discretion of the High Inquisitor."
Umbridge's face darkened for a moment before she composed herself and plastered a tiny smile on her lips. "Are you refusing to turn out your trunk, Mr. Potter?"
"Not at all," Harry said, dropping his school books to the floor. He reached into his pocket, removed the key to his trunk, and opened the lock. Harry lifted the lid and began to remove the tunk's contents, placing everything on the bed: several carefully folded piles of clothes; a few books about quidditch and a copy of Hogwarts: A History; his dragonhide gloves and winter robes; a half-full bag of candy, left over from his last trip to Honeydukes; and some extra parchment, quills, and ink. When he was finished, Harry stepped back and gestured to his trunk. "All clear," he said.
Draco's jaw had literally dropped open. He immediately stepped forward and looked in the trunk, disbelief evident on his face. Draco took his hands and began to push against the lining of the trunk, as if searching for some secret compartment.
"It has to be here," Draco muttered. He turned away from the trunk and began to rifle through Harry's things, unfolding the clothes and knocking over Harry's carefully stacked books.
"What, exactly, are you looking for?" Harry asked, feigning innocence.
Draco rose from the bed with a scowl. He drew his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Accio invisibility cloak!"
Nothing happened.
Harry waited for a few seconds before breaking the silence. "Is there anything else? Or can I pack my trunk again?"
Umbridge slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid you won't be packing that trunk any time soon," she said. "Reliable sources have informed the Inquisitional Squad that you are in possession of a significant amount of contraband. Since the contraband was not discovered when you unpacked your trunk, I am forced to conclude that this trunk contains secret compartments of some sort. I will be seizing this trunk in order to inspect it more thoroughly."
"You're doing WHAT?" Harry yelled. Harry's fury plunged him into his emerald trance immediately; he was seeing the world through a lens of green.
Umbridge smiled. "I think I was quite clear," she said. "Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, please close the trunk and carry it to my office." As Umbridge led the members of the Inquisitional Squad out of the dormitory, Harry noticed that his fingers were drumming restlessly against his leg, only inches away from his wand. How easy it would be to draw his wand and curse them all into oblivion.
Harry shook his head, let out a long breath, and the emerald trance began to fade from his vision. Indulging himself in fantasies of blowing Umbridge to smithereens was a waste of time. Harry needed to do something to get his trunk back from Umbridge, and that meant that he had to go to Dumbledore. But Dumbledore was off-limits until Harry was better at occlumency, which meant that Harry would be approaching Snape for help. Or Sirius. Or both.
Once he was certain that Umbridge and the Inquisitional Squad had left the Slytherin common room, Harry emerged from his dormitory. Ignoring the curious glances of his housemates, Harry left the common room and went directly to the caved-in secret passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor, where he retrieved his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map from their hiding place. Harry could have left them with his other items in the Room of Requirement, but he wasn't willing to risk revealing the room's existence by entering and leaving it without both the cloak and the map to ensure that he was alone.
Harry draped himself under the cloak, activated the Map, and slipped through the halls to the Room of Requirement. Harry entered the room and walked directly to his pile of hidden things. Seconds later, Sirius's mirror was unwrapped and in Harry's hand.
"Sirius?" Harry asked, after he tapped the mirror.
There was a second of fumbling noise before Sirius's face appeared. "Harry! How are you?" To answer so quickly, he must be carrying the mirror around the house with him. Probably still bored, even with Lupin around the house.
"Terrible," Harry said. "Umbridge just forced me to turn out my new trunk."
"Did she find anything?"
"No. So she decided that the lack of anything suspicious was, itself, suspicious. She took my trunk to check it for secret compartments."
"That's outrageous!"
"You don't need to tell me that," Harry said. "I need you to tell Dumbledore that."
"I'll get right on it," Sirius said.
"Thanks," Harry said. "If Umbridge is forcing me to turn out my trunk, though, I won't be able to keep the mirror close by. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a few days, okay?"
"Okay," Sirius said sadly. "As soon as you hear something, try to get back to me, okay?"
"I will," Harry said. "Thanks again."
"Anything," Sirius said. With a wave, his face disappeared.
Harry wrapped the mirror in cloth once again and placed it atop his pile of books. It was only when Harry left the Room of Requirement that he realized he was over an hour late for his meeting with Katie. One glance at the Marauder's Map showed that Katie was not in the gardens. Harry eventually located her in the Gryffindor common room, next to Alicia and Angelina. It seemed that she had not waited very long for Harry, and he didn't blame her—the gardens were cold in January.
Harry was furious. Umbridge had taken his trunk, and caused him to miss his liaison with Katie. The afternoon had been almost completely ruined. He wanted nothing more than to hex her toadlike face into oblivion, but, seeing as that was not an option, Harry resolved himself to being productive. And that meant a trip to the library.
A/N: Happy Independence Day, to those of you in the States.