Hey everyone! What's this, you ask? The next chapter while it's only Tuesday? yes, indeed! Since I'll be having a lot more spare time for the near future, I expect to be writing a great deal more than I normally would. And since Chapter 16 is nearly complete, I thought: what the hell? Do enjoy!


Chapter 15

When Harry relayed the odd conversation he overheard to his friends over dinner, he quickly found that he didn't get the response he had expected.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "Don't you think you're overthinking this a bit?"

"Yeah," Ron chimed in, his mouth stuffed with boiled potatoes. "I hate the Slytherins as much as the next Gryffindor but those two are too stupid to be up to anything really dangerous."

"Weren't you listening?" Harry asked incredulously. "It's not them that's dangerous but whoever they were talking about!"

"As if they would recognise dangerous if it bit them in the face," Ron chuckled. "I'd bet they'd be scared of Cornish pixies!"

"Who wouldn't after the train wreck that was Lockhart?" Hermione mumbled indignantly. She was still a bit bitter about the exposure of her beloved teacher.

Harry furrowed his brow in annoyance. "I can't believe you're not taking this more seriously," he said while he mushed his mashed potatoes even more.

Hermione sighed. "You're always saying how trouble finds you," she pointed out. "Why would you want to go out and find more that has nothing to do with you? Honestly, Harry, sometimes I think you have a saving-people thing."

Harry abruptly stood up from his seat, leaving his untouched meal to be disposed of. "I'm going to be late for my detention," he murmured and strode out of the great hall, ignoring the eyes in his back.

Angrily, he stomped towards Umbridge's office, knowing full well that he still had another half hour to kill before his detention was actually supposed to start. Umbridge, for one, was still eating in the great hall. Harry had seen her try and cosy up to Snape for some reason. He shuddered at even the thought of those two together, though that had more to do with Umbridge than with Snape.

The door wasn't open so he leaned against the wall and sighed, starting to wonder if he had overreacted. He had hoped that his friends would've been on his side on this. They had had no qualms breaking into the Slytherin common room during second year, after all. What harm could it do to investigate whatever Malfoy's shadows were up to?

Harry scoffed when he remembered Hermione's earlier words. A saving-people thing. And what, exactly, was wrong with that? Was it so bad that he didn't want to see anyone endangered just because those two meatheads didn't have Malfoy around them anymore to rein them in?

Wait a second… Malfoy!

That must be it! Whatever was going on just had to have something to do with his blonde nemesis. He really hadn't been around Crabbe and Goyle much anymore, had he? And then there was his strange behaviour which even Ron had noticed. And that must be why those two were so secretive about this whole thing. They worshipped Malfoy and didn't want any harm to come to him, never mind that he was likely to injure someone else.

It all fit.

But what was going on with him that was so dangerous? Harry doubted that he was a werewolf or anything. That, he would have noticed. Unless he was bitten over the summer, of course. But there wasn't a trace of any sort of injury on him. Not that Harry had seen, at least.

The longer he thought about it, the more outrageous his thoughts became. Thinking that someone had cursed him in some way might still have some merit to it but actually speculating that Malfoy was actually some sort of half breed was bordering on insanity. Though Harry did find it amusing to consider some sort of Jekyll and Hyde situation going on with him. But no, that was ridiculous.

Before he knew it, the time had passed and Umbridge appeared right in front of him.

"Mr Potter," she said, sounding mildly surprised. "I'm glad to see you be so punctual. Perhaps you are capable of learning some respect."

If I had known you'd take it so well, I would have spent my time somewhere else.

"Yes, Professor," he said instead.

"Well, go on in then," she urged after waving her wand to open the door. Harry walked in with Umbridge right behind him.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," she said cheerfully. Harry grit his teeth and sat down in the same spot he had chosen before. There were no signs of blood on the desk whatsoever. It looked as innocent as the next one, all proof of what was going on here gone.

Umbridge slid a stack of parchment his way and handed him the same quill he had used before. Harry looked at her expectantly, worried that if he voiced a question, it would come out as something inappropriately provocative. She smiled warmly at him and replied to his unspoken question.

"The same as yesterday, don't you think?" she said. "I must not tell lies. Until the message sinks in."

Not giving her the satisfaction of an outward reaction, he took the proffered quill and started writing. 'I must not tell lies' over and over again. As he wrote, Harry tried to allow his mind to wander. To think about all the horrible ways Umbridge's year at Hogwarts might come to an end.

Maybe she'll be abducted by a dragon. Or maybe she'll antagonise Snape so much that one day she just disappears. Ooh, maybe Hagrid could introduce her to Fluffy.

But no matter what he thought about, the pain of the sharp quill's point was not to be ignored. It was actually worse than the day before. Earlier, it had only really opened up his flesh after a couple of hours of writing. But this time, the fresh wound opened up after a mere three lines, a bit of blood welling up as it did. Fifteen minutes later, blood was trickling freely and staining both desk and parchment.

Harry was so focused on trying not to cry out that he hadn't even noticed it when Umbridge had come to stand beside him.

"Oh dear," she said gently, almost making Harry jump in surprise. "That does look painful." She put what Harry thought was supposed to be a comforting hand on his lower arm as she inspected the phrase. Harry shuddered involuntarily when her thumb caressed his upper wrist, smearing a droplet of blood. "Aren't you ready to stop yet?"

Harry jerked his arm away from her and stared at her defiantly. "I'm not the one who decides when detention is over, Professor," he said, realising that he sounded much too cross.

Umbridge clicked her tongue against her teeth. "And here I thought you finally realised what respect was."

"Oh, I do," Harry replied easily. "There are loads of people I respect. But they earned it."

Umbridge did not seem as insulted as Harry had hoped. Instead, a cruel smile formed on her lips, as if she was happily anticipating Harry's reactions.

"Are you telling me that I didn't, in fact, earn your respect, Mr Potter?" she asked sweetly.

Harry could sense the danger lurking behind her sickening tone of voice and forced himself to calm down. Averting his gaze, he stared back at his parchment where the bloody sentence was staring him in the face. He chose not to respond.

I must not tell lies, after all.

"Why do you insist on punishing yourself like this?" Umbridge asked, sounding almost pained. "All you need to do to get out of these detentions is admit to your lies. That isn't so hard, is it?"

Harry continued writing the phrase, ignoring the stinging in his hand and Umbridge alike.

Umbridge sighed sadly. "As you wish, Mr Potter," she said. "I do hate to see you suffer like this but you must understand; I will not stop doing my very best to turn you into a respectable young man worthy of the praise the wizarding world bestows upon him."

As far as personal vendetta's go, that one's just bloody ridiculous.

She left him to it after that. Thankfully, there wasn't much more time left until curfew so three-quarters of an hour later, Umbridge took the quill from him mid-sentence and crossed her arms.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"Professor?" Harry asked innocently, pretending not to understand what she wanted. Inside he was fuming with rage, the feel of blood dripping along his fingers doing nothing to calm him down. But he had to be clever about this. Riling the woman up, even more, was not.

"Do you have anything to say about your earlier allegations?" Umbridge asked easily as she twirled the quill between her stubby fingers.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said earnestly, almost laughing at the triumphant smirk coming over Umbridge's face. "But I must not tell lies." That wiped the smirk clean off, making room for a very dark glare.

"Potter," she growled under her breath. "I have tolerated your behaviour admirably so far. But I will not continue to do so. This is your last chance."

Don't provoke her, you idiot. Just bow your head and pretend to be sorry.

"My vault against yours," Harry said. "I'll bet my vault against yours that by the end of this school year, you will have no choice but to believe me."

Oops. Failed again. Ah, well.

Umbridge was fuming and if her rage hadn't been directed at Harry he might have laughed at the way her red face clashed with her pink ensemble.

"Detention tomorrow!" she screeched.

"I'm terribly sorry but I can't," Harry said easily. "I already have a prior engagement with Professor Snape."

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at him but Harry didn't step back even though his instincts screamed at him to do just that. "Thursday then," she said.

"Oh dear," Harry replied, realising that he was sounding a bit too pleased with himself. "Thursday won't work either. I'm also meeting Professor Snape then."

"Is that so?" Umbridge huffed. "Friday it is, then. No excuses this time. And if I'm not satisfied with your progress you might as well spend the entire weekend in my office."

Harry only just managed not to roll his eyes. "Yes, Professor," he said. He couldn't help but notice the trembling of Umbridge's hands and wondered just how badly she would like to hit him. That did seem like her sort of thing. But she didn't and he strolled out of her office, his chin tilted high and his blood dripping on the stone floors.

He had almost made it back to the Gryffindor Tower when he suddenly felt queasy. The world around him seemed to spin somewhat and the edges of his vision were slowly turning red. Hissing when a dull pain started throbbing in his scar, he stumbled forward, trying his best to get to at least the common room to get help.

But before he had taken another step, the red overtook his vision and his consciousness faded into nothingness.


When Harry next came to, he was standing in the Gargoyle corridor, near the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Frowning, he looked around and saw that there was no one nearby. Instantly he noticed that his clothing was damp and his hands were grimy. The hem of his robe was filthy and stained.

What the hell?

After recovering from the fact that he had no idea how he got here nor what he was doing here in the first place, he numbly made his way back to where he had wanted to go. The Gryffindor tower. Casting a quick Tempus as he walked, his resounding footsteps bouncing off the empty corridor walls, he realised that it was already past two in the morning. He gasped when he realised that he had lost more than four hours.

He half expected to run into Snape or worse, Filch on his way back but blessedly, he encountered no one. The fat lady gave him a disgusted once-over as he approached her and rubbed her eyes as if she was just waking up.

"Where have you been?" she asked haughtily. "You look like you've been playing near the lake."

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Harry replied, not wanting to get into this right now. Especially not with a stain of paint spelled to come to life. The fat lady huffed and scowled but she let him through nonetheless.

The common room was empty except for Ron and Hermione. Harry smiled when he saw his friends as they slept in the soft plush chairs sitting in front of the last smouldering embers dying on the hearthstones.

We are so lucky that McGonagall doesn't check up on us.

He approached his friends and took a chair adjoining to Ron's, leaning forward on his knees as he tried to sort the situation out. He looked at his right hand, covered in the sharp writing of the blood quill and noticed that his blood wasn't flowing freely anymore. Instead, the wound had scabbed over and was starting to heal.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to meet Hermione's gaze. He hadn't wanted to wake his friends up before knowing what to say but Hermione, it would appear, was a much lighter sleeper than Ron was.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said softly.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Hermione asked, shifting slightly so she sat more upright.

Harry groaned inwardly. She must have caught him looking at it when he thought she was still asleep. There was no point in lying to her, really. She was the most clever with of her age, after all.

"Umbridge's detention," he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione frowned. "What?" she asked, a bit louder than Harry would have liked. "She's carving things into your hand?"

"Not exactly," Harry said when Ron began to stir.

The redhead yawned and stretched dramatically before smacking his lips and aiming his bleary eyes at Harry. "Hi, mate," he said. "What time is it?"

"A little past two," Harry replied cautiously.

Hermione's eyes widened in response. "What?" she asked. "She's kept you that late? Harry, you have to say something to Professor McGonagall. It's not right for her to cut up your hand like that and keep you until after curfew!"

"It was McGonagall that told me to lay low and make the best of things, "Harry pointed out. "There's no point going to her after only two days. Besides, she only kept me until a quarter to ten."

Ron frowned. "Then where were you?" he asked carefully. "You didn't stumble across another one of Dumbledore's artefacts, did you?"

Harry smiled slightly. "No," he said. "At least, I don't think so. Listen, I want to tell you but I think it should just remain between us three, alright? I don't want anyone to know before I know what's going on."

Hermione and Ron shared a look but they agreed readily enough.

"Of course, Harry," Ron said. "You know I'm on your side."

"Me too," Hermione added easily. "But we'll figure it out. What's going on? Something to do with the Slytherins?"

"No," Harry said. "I mean I don't know. It could be, I guess but I can't be sure. It all happened so fast and suddenly." He took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. Rambling wasn't going to get him anywhere but his friends just might.

"So here's what happened," Harry then said, hoping he would sound coherent enough. "I was almost back at Gryffindor Tower when my scar started tingling. It hurt a bit but not as much as usual so I'm not sure if it was a coincidence or not. Either way, that's when I blacked out."

"You blacked out?" Hermione repeated. "Harry, that's serious. Something could be very wrong-"

"Let the bloke finish," Ron chided slightly.

Hermione stopped talking and Harry smiled gratefully. "I blacked out," he confirmed. "I woke up four hours later near Dumbledore's office looking like this." He raised his arms to show off the dampness of his robes and lifted his right leg to bring to light the state of the hem of his robe. "I have no idea what happened in the meantime."

Ron sniffed him and frowned. "You smell all musty," he said. "Like my great aunt's closet."

"Is that blood all yours, Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit sick as her gaze was locked onto Harry's right arm.

Harry glanced at it and nodded. "Yes," he said. "It's because of that quill."

"Quill?" Hermione prompted.

Harry sighed and leaned back, suddenly exhausted. Too much had happened that night and his mind was making a mess of things. He felt as if he hadn't been able to explain either occurrence very well.

"Umbridge made me write lines with a quill that uses my own blood instead of ink," he then offered, hoping that cleared things up.

He hadn't expected Ron's sudden uttering of profanity but he had anticipated Hermione's gasp of horror.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "That's awful! You just have to tell someone!"

"No," Harry told her sternly. "I don't. I have to be careful around her. That's what McGonagall told me. So, for now, I'll just have to grin and bear it." He grinned for emphasis.

"I don't know…" Ron said, sounding as convinced as Hermione was. "That hand doesn't look good, mate. Maybe you should go to Dumbledore at least."

Harry scoffed at that. "Dumbledore won't even look at me," he said. "He's probably mad at me for what happened last year or something. I don't know but I sure as hell am not going to run to him like some clueless kid who doesn't know how to fend for himself."

"Harry," Ron said. "Dumbledore's not mad at you. I'm sure of it. If you would just talk to him-"

"No offence, Ron," Harry interrupted. "I know that he's some sort of hero for you and all but I really don't want to talk to him right now. Please don't ask me to anymore."

Ron sighed but nodded. "If that's what you want," he said.

"At least let me help you with that," Hermione said, sounding decidedly irritable. "I still have some Murtlap essence left. Wait right here and I'll be right back."

"Leave it to her to always have something handy, am I right?" Ron asked, smiling insecurely.

Harry appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood and smiled back. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's almost as if she has some sort of hidden room in which she stores everything she's ever brewed or read."

"Too bad we can't go up to the girls' dormitory," Ron sighed, feeling more at ease. "I'd love to see her hidden room."

"Ron!" came Hermione's exclamation from atop the stairs. Both boys turned to look at her as she stood there, blushing fiercely, with a large potion vial in her hand.

Ron became wide-eyed as he realised the misunderstanding. He raised his hands and frantically waved them as he tried to explain. "I didn't mean it like that!" he said urgently. "We were just saying that you always have everything handy and how useful that was. Harry thought you might have a hidden room somewhere. I would never, ever want to… you know!"

As Hermione came down the stairs, her embarrassed look quickly became one of anger. "Oh really?" she asked. "And why not? Am I not good enough for you or something?"

Oh no. Here we go.

"That's not what I meant either!" Ron then said. "I mean, I might want to. I won't deny that I haven't thought about it –"

A gasp from Hermione made him smack his forehead. Hard. Harry found that he was rather enjoying the show; It was a nice change of pace from the rest of his evening.

"Ah, not like that!" Ron exclaimed loudly. "I know what you're thinking. I wasn't – like that – not in the shower or anything. I just –"

By then Hermione had dunked Harry's hand in a bowl filled with the essence, soothing the ache of the horrid sentence. "Stop talking already!" she told him. "You're only making it worse."

"But Hermione!" Ron almost pleaded. "It's not that I don't think you're pretty or anything, because I do, but you're just not…" he trailed off.

"Your type?" Hermione asked. "What's the matter? Not busty enough? Is my hair not sleek enough? Are my teeth too large? Please do tell me why I'm not in your shower phantasies."

Hah! She's enjoying this. Poor Ron.

Ron turned an extremely unattractive shade of red as he fumbled for the words. Harry didn't miss the triumphant smirk on Hermione's lips.

"It's really not that I don't-" Ron began but Harry thought it best to end his suffering.

"Leave the poor bloke alone," Harry told Hermione. "Hasn't he suffered enough?"

Hermione laughed. "I suppose," she admitted. "So, how's the hand?"

"Much better," Harry said in mild surprise. "It still stings a bit but it hurts a lot less."

Ron stared at her with his mouth open as if he couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. "You were messing with me!" he accused. "You know I'm still half-asleep. That's just cruel. That's just… Slytherin!"

"No," Hermione countered sweetly. "That's just some womanly banter."

Ron mumbled something under his breath about that but Harry didn't quite catch it.

Hermione snorted but ignored the redhead. "You should probably take a shower and go to sleep," she told Harry. "You look exhausted. I promise I'll look into what might have happened to you, alright? And who knows, maybe tomorrow's Occlumency lesson might shed some light on the subject as well."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione," he said. "For the advice and for –" he nodded towards the murtlap essence, "this. It means a lot."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Any time," she said honestly. "Just try not to antagonise Professor Umbridge too much, okay? Was that your last detention?"

Harry sighed. "I have another on Friday."

"Oh, for heavens' sake," Hermione growled but she didn't say anything else. "Go to sleep," she said instead. "Both of you."

Neither boy was stupid enough not to listen so they just nodded.

Harry took that shower Hermione recommended, feeling grimy from top to bottom and put on a clean pair of pyjamas. By the time he climbed into his bed, Ron was already snoring and talking in his sleep. Something about Hermione's hidden room.

Harry snickered quietly and got comfortable under his sheets. He didn't even remember thinking of anything else before sleep overtook him. Blessedly, there were no nightmares or visions to taunt his already cut-short slumber.


Harry almost missed breakfast the next day and came in only at the last minute to snatch a crumpet to eat. Ron, despite being up late as well, hadn't missed breakfast nor had Hermione. They both shot him a knowing look when he finally arrived but didn't say anything.

Harry noticed that the Ravenclaw table was rather restless. Frowning, he asked his friends, "What's up with them?"

Ron shrugged. "No idea," he said. "Maybe some Slytherin solved the riddle to get into their common room or something."

"We have to go if we don't want to be late for History of Magic," Hermione said as she got up from her seat.

"But I do want to be late," Ron whined. "Old Binns won't even notice."

Hermione sighed and grabbed Ron loosely by the collar. "Come on," she said. "Or I won't let you borrow my notes."

Ron grabbed another pastry before complying and joining his friends. Harry would also rather have skipped it. The class ended up being ridiculously boring.

All throughout the day, he couldn't help but notice the Ravenclaw's restlessness. The more the day progressed, the more he got the distinct possibility that something was very wrong. Even Flitwick didn't act like his normal, perky self during charms. Instead of giving practical lessons, he assigned everyone an essay to work on during class while he constantly had his head in the floo.

It was not until dinner time that Harry finally understood just what was wrong.

Dumbledore rose from his seat right before dinner, his imposing presence demanding immediate silence and attention from everyone present. There was no joy or kindness to be found in those blue eyes. Instead, there was only worry. Harry's heart clenched unexpectedly and he frowned as he waited.

"I apologise for interrupting everyone's well-deserved meal after what must have been another day of arduous learning and experience. I will attempt to make this short," Dumbledore said.

His eyes flickered to the Ravenclaw table before addressing the student body as a whole again. "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that yesterday evening, one of our beloved students has disappeared from the sanctity of Hogwarts. Her housemates inform me that she never made it back to her common room."

There were gasps and sudden murmurs coming from every table. Harry noticed that no one at the high table seemed surprised but they all shared the same glum look.

"Settle down," Dumbledore said and everyone immediately complied.

"Her name is Lisa Turpin and while she belongs in Ravenclaw house, she has friends that cross the boundaries of houses. I assure you all that we are doing everything in our power to find her and bring her back where she belongs but every piece of information that you might be able to share with us could prove to be helpful. If you can think of anything; anything at all, I implore you to tell anyone of the staff about your findings."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze swept across the hall but carefully avoided Harry even now. "You may return to your meal," he then said before sitting back down. With wide eyes, Harry glanced at the Slytherin table, immediately suspect of their involvement. He saw that some of the Slytherins seemed more excited than usual but most of them were as dumbfounded as the rest of the student body. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed positively pale and out of sorts. He hadn't scooped up a single thing on his plate and didn't seem to plan on eating anytime soon.

But even the Slytherin's odd behaviour couldn't bring Harry to deny one little fact. Lisa Turpin's disappearance seemed to line up perfectly with his black-out. He remembered the dampness of his robes and the grime on his hands. Panicked eyes sought out Ron and Hermione who were both staring at him. They seemed to understand the implications as well.

"It can't be," Ron whispered to him as he leaned over under the guise of grabbing the peas. "It's not you, mate. Don't even think it."

"He's right," Hermione whispered. "I don't know what's going on but I would bet anything that someone is trying to frame you."

But Harry wasn't so sure. What if this was why Dumbledore didn't want to look at him anymore? What if the connection he noticed with Voldemort went beyond what he dreamed about at night? What if he was, in a way, slowly becoming everything he hated with Voldemort's influence hiding inside of him?

Harry didn't feel much like eating either. He shoved his plate away and sat there, glancing at the Ravenclaw table every so often.

Why can't I have just one normal year? Just one?

He was so out of it that he didn't feel the burning gaze coming from the high table. Resting his chin on his palm he watched as the oranges kept restacking themselves neatly every time someone took one, thinking about what he was going to do now.


Harry didn't really want to see Snape right now. In fact, he didn't really want to see anyone. But the fact of the matter was that these lessons, whatever they would be, were going to be a whole lot better than Umbridge's appalling detentions.

Knowing that it was time, he sighed and knocked on the door, a nifty glamour firmly in place on his right hand to keep Snape from noticing anything was amiss.

"Enter," came the expected drawling voice of one Severus Snape.

Harry did so, closing the door behind him. It locked itself automatically, and Harry noticed that Snape cast all sorts of spells that were probably meant to keep people from listening in. That was most likely a clever precaution seeing how they were in Slytherin territory and everything. Snakes were not to be trusted.

Except for Snape, of course.

"Mr Potter," Snape said, inclining his head in greeting.

"Professor," Harry greeted, not much liking the frosty encounter.

This is the man who took a pillow to the face without exploding. He admonished Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He helped you with your homework…

Harry blinked in surprise when Snape carefully lowered himself to the ground and sat there, easy as you please, as if he did it every day. The man willingly sitting on the floor like that, his legs crossed was so unexpected and strange that Harry couldn't help but stare.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to join me so that we may get started?" Snape drawled.

"You mean, sit on the floor?" Harry asked oddly but he did take a few steps closer.

"Yes, Potter," Snape said. "Since you did so with no problem while playing that mind-numbing game, I didn't think you'd be opposed to do it here as well."

Snape's lips quirked ever so slightly but it was enough to put Harry at ease. Just the fact that the man would bring that up like that meant something to Harry. He hadn't forgotten the shaky rapport the two of them had started to build. Being at Hogwarts didn't change that. Not really. Feeling much more at ease, he sat down.

"Closer," Snape urged. Harry scooted over without much dignity until Snape nodded.

"Occlumency," Snape then said, "is one of the more challenging forms of magic out there. It is famously difficult to learn and even more so to master. Very few wizards have ever come close to making this skill their own which is why it's so hard to find someone to teach you."

Harry frowned. "You don't sound too convinced about all of this," he offered.

Snape smirked. "Hm," he said. "I admit that I had my doubts at first. But you have mastered to cast a Patronus at thirteen, bested a basilisk at twelve and outflown a dragon at fourteen. Even I can't help but admit that you do the impossible all the time, even if you really shouldn't have to if you would just listen to common sense."

Harry chuckled, amazed that he felt enough at ease to do so. "I get lucky a lot," he said.

"Perhaps," Snape said, sounding as if he didn't want to linger on the subject any longer. "But luck will not assist you now. Not in Occlumency. It will take discipline and hard work. If you don't apply yourself to these lessons, you will never be able to master it, no matter if you're the-boy-who-lived or not."

Harry scowled at that. "That has nothing to do with –"

"I know, Mr Potter," Snape said dismissively. "An unfortunate turn of phrase. Now, you understand why it's imperative that you learn this skill?"

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling morose again. More so than you know.

Snape frowned but didn't comment on Harry's obvious change in mood.

"Occlumency is the art to shield your mind from outward intrusion," Snape continued the lecture. "In normal circumstances, that would mean the attack of a Legilimens such as myself. But for you, Occlumency might entail a great deal more."

"A shield against Voldemort you mean?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Snape replied. "If the theory of the headmaster and me is correct, mastering Occlumency should stop the Dark Lord from invading your mind, be it accidental or on purpose."

"I still think these visions might give me some useful information," Harry muttered.

"That is not for you to decide, Mr Potter," Snape said derisively. "The order has other ways of finding out about the Dark Lord's plans. I play a rather large part in that, myself, as you well know. There is no reason for your mind to remain dangerously open. Especially not since these visions clearly have a debilitating effect on your physical well-being as well."

"It's fine," Harry protested weakly.

"It is unnecessary," Snape protested. "Hence the need for Occlumency. But if you tell me right now that you refuse to learn simply because of your uninspired impression that your visions are actually worth having, then we will stop this right now and I will report to the headmaster that there is no point."

Harry sighed. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I'll do my best." When Snape looked at him doubtfully, Harry added, "I promise!" which seemed to win the man over.

"Very well," Snape then said, the former annoyance now gone from his voice. "The shields of your average Occlumens consist of an element in one form or another. What we will need to do first and foremost is find that element that resonates with you best."

"Element?" Harry asked. "Like fire and water you mean?"

Snape nodded sharply. "Just so," he said.

"Well, what is your chosen element, sir?" Harry asked.

Snape smiled lightly as he adjusted his legs a bit. "You don't choose an element, Mr Potter," he said importantly. "Much like a wand, the element chooses the wizard. Not the other way around. It doesn't matter how much you enjoy seeing the flames dance in the fireplace, if fire doesn't attune to you, it will not work."

Harry noticed that Snape hadn't answered his question. "Right," he said. "And your element, sir?"

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Perhaps," he said, "you will find out before the year is over."

Harry snorted in amusement but didn't dare to push Snape again. "Challenge accepted, sir," he said instead.

"For now," Snape said, "I want you to close your eyes and clear your mind. Think of an element and imagine it to engulf your consciousness. Ask it to protect your thoughts and innermost secrets. Make it bend to your will."

That sounds a bit vague.

"How will I know if I've chosen correctly, sir?" Harry asked.

"Trial and error," Snape said matter-of-factly. "You won't be able to know what works until you try it. I will assist by attempting to enter your mind and see what your chosen visual does for you.

Harry's eyes widened. "Enter my mind?" he repeated. "What will you do there?"

"Look for the recipe of your aunt's roast, of course," Snape said lightly, a slight smile tugging at his lips. But then he became serious again. "I will be able to peruse everything in your mind unless you successfully manage to block me."

"That sounds a bit personal," Harry said numbly. Even if Snape knew a great deal of what had been going on at the Dursleys, that didn't mean Harry wanted him to see every intricate detail. And what of other things? He could see what was going on in detention with Umbridge. He could find out about Harry's black-out. And a clever man like him would surely piece that together with that mysterious disappearance.

"It is," Snape admitted. "But I assure you that, much like I have until now, I will not spill your secrets to anyone. Not unless someone is in immediate danger." Snape narrowed his eyes a bit. "That includes you, of course."

Harry chuckled bitterly. "I'm always in danger, Professor," he said easily. "But alright, I understand." He hoped that he could redirect Snape even if he wasn't able to block the man out. For now, he would have to choose an element he felt close to.

Flying on a broom came to mind. The wind rushing through his hair as he ran through the park. A soft summer breeze cooling his back when he was weeding the garden.

Air. He would try air out first. He imagined himself standing on a platform somewhere high in the sky. It was so high that he didn't see anything when he looked down. Air was rushing all around him. He could feel it in his hair. He could hear it rushing past his ears. He could see it as the leaves danced in the wind's embrace. He breathed it in and relished in the feeling of it filling his lungs.

"Ready?" Snape asked, raising his wand.

Unsure, but not thinking that he could ever be more ready, Harry nodded.

"Very well," Snape said, sounding pleased. "Legilimens!"


Ah, Occlumency. A moment we've all been waiting for, have we not? More mystery has been added but no answers have been given yet. I'm terribly sorry about that but just give me some time.

Please do let me know what you thought? I'm writing as fast as I can for all of you *nudge nudge, wink wink* so please take a few minutes to share a review with me.