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Chapter 54: It's Occlumency, Jim, But Not As We Know It

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Jack led Harry up to the room that he and Ianto usually met in, on the seventh floor. It was the best place in the castle for a private conversation. Or pretty much anything else you wanted to do in private, but all he wanted right now was to explain the whole telepathic-defence thing.

As they stepped into the room, both boys looked around in surprise. "Hey, this place is cool!" Harry said brightly.

"It's... changed a bit over the summer." Jack conceded.

The decorations had changed from cosy and intimate with artificial lighting, to airy and kind of pastel with high windows. The couch he had some very fond memories of was nowhere to be seen. In its place were two comfy chairs within arm's reach of each other and a table, which was at the perfect height for casual studying without craning you neck like a coffee table, or feeling like you were still in class like a normal desk.

There was also a new, and well-filled bookshelf off to one side, with a few eye-catching titles like 'How To Read Minds', 'Occlumency For Beginners' and 'Think Of A Number, Any Number'.

Harry wandered over to the bookshelf and scanned it briefly, with an entirely disinterested sort of idle curiosity. "So what did you have to talk about?" he asked carefully, before turning back to face Jack.

"Well our beloved Headmaster finally figured out just how good I am at keeping people out of my mind." Jack said with a dismissive shrug, and before Harry could comment, he continued quickly, "It was my own fault, I deliberately projected a single thought to him, and he couldn't help but notice I wasn't letting anything else slip. He thought you ought to learn to shield your mind, and for some reason he got the impression I could teach you."

Harry stared in amazed bemusement, "You're kidding, right?"

"Not in the slightest." Jack said seriously, "He thinks with Voldemort back, you need all the practical training you can get."

"That's what I tried to tell Umbridge!"

"Oh, forget about her." Jack dismissed, laughing, "Her class is about to become a public advertisement for the Weasley twins' impending joke shop. Once Owen's had his fun with her, anyway. I'm just suggesting an hour a week, or so, to work on keeping old snake-face from ever getting into your head again."

Harry laughed nervously at the remark against Umbridge, but became serious again at the mention of Voldemort, however irreverently worded it may have been. "Alright, so what do I have to do?"

Jack smirked almost evilly, "Don't think about elephants." Alright, so the usual Agency method was to start with the command; 'Don't think about sex', but this still worked the same way from a training perspective... and was a bit more child-friendly.

Harry blinked, and then began to frown in concentration.

Jack allowed a few seconds to pass in silence, before laughing, "You're thinking about elephants, aren't you?"

Harry flushed with embarrassment, "I can't help it."

"Yeah, this is the first mistake in mental defences. Almost everyone does it, until they're told how not to." Jack said, making a gesture for Harry to sit down. Once they were both settled, he continued, "If you don't want the mind-reader to see it, the amateur will almost certainly start up a chant in his mind; 'Don't think about elephants, don't think about elephants', until all he can picture is a whole damned herd of elephants."

Harry laughed as well. He just couldn't seem to help it. And it was clearly perfectly true, as well. He was thinking about a herd of elephants.

"The trick is to have something else to think about, instead." Jack explained, leaning on the arm of his chair, so that they almost had their heads together conspiratorially, now, "Something harmless, but persistent. Something you can easily keep your focus on, like, oh I don't know, Quidditch strategies or something."

Harry blinked, and while Jack was incapable of any level of telepathy without physical contact, he could almost see Harry's brain switch into Quidditch mode there. Until, "So what do you think about?" he asked, looking up at Jack.

"You do not want to know." Jack said, with a grin, "Suffice it to say, I've kept two of the most dangerous telepathic creatures in the universe out of my head simply because of the fact that one of the three things I use as a mental shield offends them both so very much."

Harry stared, wearing an expression directly between disbelief and awe. "Wait, three?" he suddenly asked, after almost ten seconds of silence.

"Yes, you can vary it up depending on what you know of your opponent. For Dumbledore, I used some pretty graphic violence that'd put Freddy Krueger to shame. For some people I've used memories of physical or emotional pain. The other one, well... like I said, you don't want to know. But back to you, now... from the rumours I've heard, Voldemort is an enemy you really do know quite well."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, curious.

"Can you think of anything that truly repels him?"

Harry frowned, "Love. When I fought him in my first year, he couldn't touch me because of the protective magic of my mother's love. It... it burned him. For real, like his face turned to ash when I grabbed it."

"Well you'd need to be careful with that one." Jack warned, "Feeling the emotion, but not thinking about any living person. The last thing you want to do is make them a target."

Harry stared in horror at the very thought, but then nodded weakly in agreement, "Maybe... I could treat him like a Dementor? My best memories, when I conjure the Patronus spell, they're usually of my parents."

Jack nodded, "That could work." He thought about it for a second, "Don't suppose there's any chance you could teach me that spell? It's just... well..."

"Well it's really hard." Harry said carefully, "You saw how impressed everyone was at the trial that I can do it now, and I'm two years... er, well, ahead of you."

Jack waved dismissively, "Don't worry about it. Sorry, but I'm gonna give you homework here."

Harry glared balefully.

"Just think about things you can use to completely occupy your mind, and preferably put off anyone trying to read it. I want you to have at least three different ones, by next time we meet." he grinned at Harry's disgruntled expression. "Of course, when that is will be your decision. The sooner we do this again, the better your chances are of defending yourself, but I don't want to earn you a detention for missing out on your real homework, or anything like that."

Harry laughed, relieved, "Alright, I guess. I'll let you know then?"

x x x

Owen had to race down from the tower at an extraordinary pace, the next morning. He had spent a bit too long going over the finer points of Operation: Umbridge Torture, with the Weasley twins, for that morning's seventh-year class. Now he'd missed breakfast... and more importantly, he'd missed coffee.

When he finally made it down to Care of Magical Creatures, it was to see that everyone was already split into groups of four or five, each group surrounding a different one of about half a dozen cats.

Cats? Cats weren't magical creatures!

Jack was with his three Gryffindor girlfriends, Demelza, Romilda and Vicky, who were all taking turns to pet a black-and-white cat that with the right distance and some bad lighting might be mistaken for a miniature cow. The cat kept directing dark glares and occasionally even vehement hisses in Jack's direction. Jack wisely kept his distance, allowing the girls to calm the animal down.

"What the-?" Owen mumbled, standing over where Jack was crouched in the stinking dewy grass.

"It's a Kneazel." Jack said, "They're to cats what wizards are to Muggles, and if you'd gotten here on time you'd already know that, now sit down before she sees you!"

Owen very reluctantly knelt on the damp ground, eyeing the cat suspiciously. It had an unusually pointed face, bigger-than-average ears, and an incredibly bushy tail that would put most toilet-brushes to shame. "What're we supposed to be doing with these things, anyway?"

"Making friends." Vicky sneered at him, "They're far more intelligent than normal cats. Smart as some humans, just they can't talk is all."

Owen pulled a face, "With Crabbe and Goyle in the gene pool, I've met fish smart as 'some humans'." he sniped back. Of course, the in-joke that made Jack snicker wasn't even what he meant. No, he didn't mean alien blowfish. Nor did he mean mermaids, for that matter. He meant goldfish.

By the end of class, which was downright boring and far too outdoorsy for Owen's tastes, he determined to sleep in on Tuesday mornings from then on.

Sleep in or plot the ultimate downfall of Dolores Umbridge. Whatever he felt like... in his mind, this just became a free period. Sure, he'd still have to show up for the shorter afternoon Care of Magical Creatures class later in the week, but that, he decided, was when he would catch up on what he'd missed.

He also decided at that moment that while he would skive unrepentantly, he would still make sure to ace the end-of-year test, just to spite anyone who claimed said skiving was a bad thing.

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That afternoon was Torchwood's first Divination class.

The instant Jack walked into the room, Professor Trelawney swooned and started predicting his doom, "Oh, my poor dear boy, I fear death is stalking you! I can almost see his bony hands reaching out to take you from us as we speak!"

Owen, who was right behind Jack, grinned maliciously and grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to startle him. To his credit, Jack didn't even flinch.

"Oh, the darkness that follows you is all-consuming! Shadows falling!" Trelawney wailed.

Jack just gave her a cheerful wink, and led Owen, Ianto and Gwen (Tosh was taking Arithmancy), over to a small table at the far side of the room from their deranged teacher. "Something tells me this class is going to be fun." he said brightly. The others were also grinning from ear to ear.

"The Grim! I see the Grim!" Trelawney cried.

"Oh, that reminds me." Jack said, turning to Ianto, "How did Ancient Runes go, this morning?"

Ianto shrugged, "Very basic stuff, nothing interesting."

Of course, while a few other students gave Jack odd looks for his utterly unconcerned and apparently random change of subject, the Torchwood team members knew what that was about. The Chamber of Secrets, and the runic inscription they had failed to translate the previous year.

Jack wondered if there was perhaps some other way of dealing with it.

But then the Professor got over her little bout of impending doom, and began to instruct the class in the art of reading tea-leaves. Ianto wrinkled his nose in distain as they were forced to actually drink the tea, and Jack was on several occasions sorely tempted to spit out a mouthful of the rank and far-too-strong stuff all over Mark Avery, who was sitting at the next table with Lucy Rosier and a pair of Ravenclaws.

Finally, however, they got to the fun part.

They traded their mugs with each other, and began trying to figure out what it meant.

"Yours looks a bit like a question mark, Jack." Ianto said, peering at the book, "Which means... a need for caution."

"Duh." Owen mumbled, "Hey, Gwen. This is like a circle, or a ring, or something. That can mean success, marriage, or... oh, you're gonna have a baby!"

Gwen hit him, blushing and grinning at what must have been the idea of that being true to their real lives in the future. She then began looking up the book for whatever she had seen in the cup in her hands, "It's a straight line, right down the middle of the cup, Ianto. And the book says straight lines- mind you the book says it like more than one- mean progress."

And of course it doesn't explain what you're meant to progress in, either." Owen put in darkly.

"I've got a suggestion." Jack teased, grinning and winking at Ianto.

"Oh yes, let's all hear about that." Owen sniped, "Come on, Jack. What's mine?"

Jack finally deigned to look at the cup in his hand, and then proceeded to look up the book. It really wasn't proper fortune-telling unless you memorised the meanings, Owen thought darkly. But finally, Jack said, "Well it looks like a triangle. Which according to this means 'something unexpected'."

"Yeah, and why get your fortune read in the first place, if they're just gonna tell you that?" Owen griped sulkily, "This is bullshit."

"Sceptic." Jack chided, laughing, "You know we can always make up our own fortunes. Or tell the real truth. It's not like she can prove us wrong."

"Yeah." Gwen giggled, "Easy pass, when we're from the future, right?"

"That is why we took this class, isn't it?" Ianto asked, bemused.

"Of course it is." Jack agreed.

But Owen got the last word, "I still think it's bullshit."

x x x

The next week, the Torchwood team were gathered around the Daily Prophet, at the Ravenclaw table. Everyone in the school was reading their own copy, or sharing with their neighbours. It was virtual silence, as the entire school soaked in the news.

Dolores Umbridge was now officially titled Hogwarts High Inquisitor, with the right to audit any class in the school, to determine if the teachers were worthy of retaining their long-held and mostly successful jobs.

"Well." Owen said, sitting back second, shortly after Tosh had finished. "We need to do something about this."

"What are you suggesting?" Gwen asked warily.

"The classes she audits need to be perfect." Ianto said, looking up at the others, "Owen, can you do this?"

"You get the Hufflepuffs, I've got the Gryffindors." he replied, grinning malevolently.

Ianto looked up at Jack, who nodded slowly, "I'll see what I can do."

It didn't take long- only the very next day- for a member of the team to witness an audit.

Gwen sat in the back of her Muggle studies class, watching intently as Umbridge took notes on Professor Burbage's performance as a teacher. The entire class were sitting quietly, writing dutifully, as per the proper lesson plan. It had been well over ten minutes since they had all finished reading the leaflets Gwen had passed out.

But then Umbridge dared to interrupt. "Hem hem."

Gwen's fist tightened a little around her quill, almost snapping it but not quite. Then she looked up, forcing herself to feign interest in an overly, overtly attentive way that she had learned to do solely for the benefit of her supervisor when she had been a beat officer.

"I would like to ask a few questions of your students, if you don't mind, Miss Burbage?"

"It's Mrs." Professor Burbage corrected, in a tone that clearly said that she did mind. Umbridge took no notice.

"Just a little pop quiz, then." Umbridge simpered, "Who can tell me how often, on average, a Muggle will notice something out of the ordinary, when it is directly under their nose?"

Gwen bristled silently. Try visiting Cardiff sometime, you old hag.

Albert Cadwallader raised his hand, and Umbridge politely turned to him with a nod. "Less than once in a hundred, Professor Umbridge." he intoned in the perfect droning they all knew that the woman expected.

Burbage stared in confusion, a few steps behind Umbridge where the rotten old bat couldn't see her shocked expression.

"Quite right, my dear." Umbridge nodded, "And who can tell me the most impressive Muggle invention in history?" This time a Ravenclaw girl called Melinda Bobbin raised her hand. "Yes?" Umbridge nodded to her.

"Combustion engines." Melinda answered.

"Indeed. Excellent." Umbridge made a distinctive tick on her clipboard, and turned sharply to a rather bewildered Professor Burbage, "I think that will be all." And with one more curt nod and a despicably smug smile, she marched primly out of the room.

Gwen sighed in relief, and started to tear up her copy of the leaflet entitled 'The Monotony Of Muggles', by Dolores Umbridge, which she had found and made multiple copies of from the library.

Other students eagerly followed her lead. A couple even set their copies on fire.

"Sorry, Professor Burbage." Albert said quickly, "I know it's almost always, really."

"Yes, and never underestimate a computer!" Melinda quickly chirped up, over the little mini-bonfire on her desk.

Professor Burbage smiled wryly at them, "Very good, class. Five points each to both of you, and... who, may I ask is behind this?"

"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, Miss." Albert piped up brightly.

Professor Burbage laughed heartily, "Then five points each to them, and that does make us even again."

That evening at dinner, Owen's head made a violent impact with the desk when he sat down next to Gwen. "Trelawney crashed and burned." he mumbled, "I just got word from Dean Thomas. Personal fail on Trelawney's part. They tried to salvage the situation, but it was too late. 'The Inner Eye does not See upon command', my arse!"

Gwen tilted her head to one side, picturing it. It was a bad picture. "Thanks, Owen." she muttered sarcastically.

He snorted, "How was your inspection?"

"We ruled." she said brightly, "Who ever knew that the library could be used for good, as well as homework!" she laughed.

Hermione Granger was, unfortunately, not within earshot.

x x x

Within the first two weeks of term, morning and afternoon Defence lessons had become interchangeable.

Owen had made a rota for it, giving out the marching orders to each class in advance, to ensure that everybody got it right. The conspiracy was so perfect, so pure. Even the other teachers seemed to know enough to just give her pitying 'I have no idea what you're talking about' looks when she brought it up.

Umbridge herself was seriously beginning to think it was all in her head.

She tried to counter it with 'Good day, class.'- or perhaps she truly forgot what time of day it was at any given time- but the collective student body unrepentantly ploughed on with the plan.

It was Saturday afternoon, on only the second weekend of term, when something entirely unprecedented happened at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter approached the Slytherin house table. Admittedly, he did so with caution, but still he did it. He had every right to be nervous, really. He had never done this before in his life. Gone over to enemy territory... to speak to a friend.

Jack was in deep conversation with Malfoy, explaining something in great detail, and repeatedly pointing to various places on a piece of parchment. Draco was nodding, and grinning eagerly, even laughing at one point.

Malfoy noticed Harry before Jack did, and looked up with a glare, "What do you want, Potter?" he spat.

"Dumbledore's orders. I'm supposed to talk to Harkness about school work." Harry tilted his head to one side, glancing at the now-visible parchment, "Something you clearly haven't been doing recently, Malfoy."

Malfoy was just about to insult him when Jack spoke up, "Oh dear gods! Either beat each other up, snog each other senseless, or just shut the hell up. I honestly do not care which! But kindly stop throwing your antagonistic teenage impersonations of testosterone over the top of my head!"

A nearby Slytherin boy, and three girls, all giggled at this outburst. Malfoy paled, and shot a venomous glare at Jack. Harry blushed crimson at the very idea of what the younger Slytherin had just said.

Jack then actually looked around at Harry, and grinned, "So another study session, then?"

"Yeah. If you have the time." Harry said, still blushing fiercely.

"Oooh, what're you two studying?" one of the giggly Slytherin girls asked in a teasing tone.

Harry blushed again, but Jack answered, "Something that requires absolutely no physical exertion." The way he said it seemed almost too perfectly innocent, "It was one of the conditions of the arrangement, so the Gryffindors can feel safe that the enemy Quidditch team aren't trying to steal his secrets." And with that he stood up and allowed Harry to lead him out of the Great Hall.

They didn't speak until they were up in the private room on the seventh floor once more.

Then Jack finally said, "Sooner than I expected."

"Finally got a break in my homework, and I thought it'd be good to learn something practical." Harry griped, rubbing his right hand a bit more defensively than seemed entirely necessary. The fresh scars, engraving the words 'I must not tell lies' into the back of his right hand were still a bit raw, but while they were no longer bleeding, he was sure they would never fully heal either.

"Umbridge still a problem?" Jack chuckled.

"Yeah, don't suppose you can tell me when Monday afternoon became known as Monday morning?" Harry asked sceptically.

"That was Owen's doing." Jack dismissed, "So do you have your three things to think about?" he asked, turning efficiently back to the business at hand.

"Er, no. Just the two we talked about last time." Harry said with uncertainty. Jack was not a teacher, in the normal sense of the word, but Harry did wonder if maybe he just wouldn't agree to help him learn if he failed at any step of this training.

However, Jack just shrugged as if it really wasn't that important anyway, "Two out of three ain't bad." he said in a teasing tone. "Alright, then. Lesson two. The easiest way to teach you to block out a telepath is through practical lessons. I'd like your permission to try to read your mind."

Harry hesitated at that. From what Jack had said after the Triwizard Tournament, it seemed like this should be a big deal, but now he sounded like he was only asking out of formality. "Er, it won't hurt will it?"

"Oh no, not at all." Jack said simply, "At my most malevolent, I've been known to reveal a few intimate secrets, but I'm not strong enough to inflict pain telepathically."

Harry was wary of this, but eventually he decided he'd had worse this week. Rubbing his right hand again briefly, at the memory of his recent detentions, he nodded, "Alright then."

Jack stepped closer, and reached a hand up to touch the side of Harry's face. Harry flinched slightly, but didn't back away. "According to what I've read, the standard way for a wizard to read minds is through eye-contact, but I always learned it this way." he said softly, now reaching his other hand up to other side of Harry's face. Then a dark smirk crossed his face, "Don't think about elephants." he said, at almost exactly the same time as pressing harder on Harry's temples with the index and middle fingers of both hands.

Harry couldn't help it. Elephants positively leapt to the front of his mind. Elephants and nothing else.

Then he remembered he was supposed to think about Quidditch.

A big strategy-board filled the front of his mind, now, and he focused intently on the moves being drawn out on it. He had memorised all of them during the years he had played on the team, and for some reason Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson's voices merged as one in the back of his mind as he went over the diagrams.

After a few seconds he began to feel distracted. His right hand itched, and memories of his detentions filtered through to the front of his mind for a moment. The seething rage at the smug toad-faced woman who was making him write lines in his own blood.

QUIDDITCH!

Training with Ron in the rain, last week. Harry really wasn't as good a Chaser as he was a Seeker, but it didn't matter because it was still fun.

Before he could really focus on that, though, he found himself back in the room on the seventh floor. Jack had let go of him, and taken a step back. "Let me see your hand." he said in a dangerous tone that brooked no argument. Harry immediately complied.

Jack examined the scars there with evident revulsion, before dropping the hand and looking up at Harry with a strange expression that was neither pity nor disgust... it seemed almost like understanding.

"You didn't tell anyone about this?" he asked. It wasn't so much a question, as confirming an impression he had already got from Harry's mind. Harry shook his head, and Jack smiled weakly, "Don't worry about it. She'll get what's coming to her and then some. I promise."

Harry also smiled. There was no rational reason for it, but he somehow found himself completely believing those words.

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