Book Two ― A School Divided
Chapter Forty ― Push and Pull
Story Summary: Following the events of Third Year, Harry Potter explores the Chamber of Secrets and finds a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Following Slytherin's advice, Harry will attempt to break out of the games set upon him and finally be free. But how? And is freedom even possible for the Boy-Who-Lived?
Book Summary: Returning to Hogwarts after spending the summer scheming politics with Daphne and furthering Muggle-born education with Hermione, Harry is forced to act prematurely to ensure the safety of the First-Years he promised to help. With Sirius in forced exile, a Tom Riddle with a different plan, a suspicious Dumbledore, and a dangerous tournament, is Harry's desired freedom even possible? Can his ambitions coexist with his desires?
Note: This chapter has been beta-ed by user Outliner.
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In regards to the topic of finding oneself and deciding who he wanted to be, Harry drifted to the place in which he had grown the most. However, the Chamber of Secrets was now not the safe haven it once was, ever since the discussions with Salazar over Snape and the use of lethal force began. Harry didn't feel threatened or unsafe within it, but the Room of Requirement had decidedly supplanted it as the place he most liked in the castle, and he felt closer to a visitor than anything else. Regardless, his companion was there, and Serena hissed a happy greeting when he emerged. Basil was also there and seemed pleased to see Harry too. A more neutral, greeting nod was what he received from Salazar, and it was what he returned to the portrait as he sat down.
"What brings you here, now?" Salazar questioned as soon as Harry made himself comfortable before frowning slightly. "And yet again, you have come without bringing me any books."
"I can bring you books later, Salazar, but we know perfectly well that they are unnecessary at this stage," Harry spoke, eyeing the portrait as if daring him to disagree with the statement. Salazar did not, choosing a soft nod instead.
"That is a fair assessment of our current level of engagement, though I am unsure of what it is at the moment," he added, looking at Harry with heavy eyes. There was no tension between the two, but there was none of the ease of earlier days. Salazar attributed it to stress, but Harry thought it was a more permanent change, as he found himself more and more distinct from the Founder before him. Even then, Harry couldn't imagine someone with whom to talk in case of emergency other than Salazar, and even more so if that emergency entailed something that flew over his head. This quest for self-understanding, or more accurately, the decision around who he wanted to be at the end of it all, was very much one such instance.
"We never defined anything, did we?" Harry inquired. "Why start now?"
"Definitions are important limiters," Salazar argued back. "They guide us back to port when we drift too far away."
"They also limit us, by definition," Harry countered. "And the more time we waste on these matters, the less time we have to focus on the important ones. Let it be as it will be."
"Wise and beautiful words, but wisdom is often incorrect," Salazar cautioned strongly. "There are sayings in every direction with neat little rhyme schemes and cute backstories, but they do not mean anything against the best choice available."
"I'll keep that in mind next time I try to make a political slogan," Harry deadpanned before he adjusted himself on the seat to lean forwards slightly. "That's not the issue at hand here, is it?"
They both skirted around the edges of what laid on both their minds. Salazar had his reasons for not fully addressing the point and wishing Harry would bring it up, to which the latter was not aware. Harry felt more skeptical of Salazar in general, echoing something that had been happening since his conversation with the Red Woman. His talk with Flitwick came to mind, as did the letters from Sirius and Bill, and somewhat more distantly, his interactions with Cygnus through Daphne's notebook. Even Daphne and Hermione, to a lesser extent. Up until the Snape incident, Harry had been more or less following Salazar's directive. Even then, it took the dragon to ascertain with certainty that Harry and Salazar were different people.
Harry languidly let his eyes roam over the room. He did not wish to leave this place behind, nor did he want to distance himself from someone who had helped him as much as Salazar had. But Harry needed to be more mindful around the man, and lately, there was a nagging sense of static in the back of his brain every time Harry came into Salazar's office that something was amiss. Between that and the conversations he had in his dreams, he was sure Salazar was plotting something. Though Harry wanted to snort at his conclusion — of course, Salazar would be scheming something. As the Founder was fond of saying, he was Salazar Slytherin. It was his thing.
Salazar did not want to be the one to restart the conversation. After all, the Founder would always win a test of patience against Harry. Such was one advantage of not needing oxygen in your daily life. So, Harry spoke next.
"The point in question is what to do about Occlumency," he began, looking at the amused reaction from his mentor, who doubtlessly caught onto the blatant shift in tone. "I think it's going to be easier for me to begin if I know my goals."
"We had the conversation about your goals a long time ago," Salazar drawled boredly.
"I know where I want to be, but not how I want to arrive there," Harry corrected the portrait before looking at it soberly. "It's pretty clear that our moral guidelines are different."
"That is accurate," Salazar replied in a somewhat arrogant, almost pitiful manner. Harry felt some irritation but swallowed it with ease.
"That's what I need, at the moment," Harry said, lightly tapping his hand against the heavy table. "A clearer sense of who I want to be. I think that'll give me a better perspective on who I am and will be a guiding light for my actions."
"You are saying correct things, but things that I have spoken to you for months now," Salazar spoke irritably, though his expression remained dispassionate. Harry knew him enough to know when he was growing frustrated. "Did you forget, after all?"
"No, I didn't, and I know you told me those things before, but the point really hit home lately, and that's why I'm here," Harry shrugged. "I need help thinking about ideas."
"Have you been reading the books I gave you?" Salazar raised a questioning eyebrow. Basil shifted slightly and invited Serena, who had been lazing around in Harry's lap, to hunt, and off they went through the Chamber.
"Honestly, not for a while," Harry breathed out. "I'm not sure they were all that effective."
"How could you tell if you did not even finish them?" Salazar demanded, freezing Harry with an angry, frustrated stare.
"It felt too simplistic, too explanatory, and exploratory," Harry spoke, trying to put his dissatisfaction into words. After some mulling around in his mind, he continued more slowly. "I learned a lot about ethics as a subject, but not about anything with which I could identify."
"Again, how could you tell if you did not finish them?" Salazar repeated the question. "You cannot rightly say something is not appropriate for you if you do not finish it. The answer may come in a later chapter."
"I don't think an explanatory guide will tell me what I believe in, Salazar," Harry responded, growing frustrated.
"Perhaps, but it will provide you with a wider base upon which to decide what you do believe in," the Founder postulated, looking at Harry more calmly. "You do not have to follow anyone if you do not think it advantageous, but reading more about what the pinnacle of intellectualism produced over the centuries will be nothing but positive for your development," Slytherin then shrugged softly. "If you do not find anything you believe in, it would still be a positive endeavor to help you identify what not to follow and where to compromise."
"Where to compromise?" Harry asked warily.
"On occasion, we are all tested against our morals," Salazar spoke knowingly, looking at Harry harshly, a look full of many life experiences and a thousand years to mull it all over after death. "We cannot always side with our beliefs."
"Then, what's the point of holding beliefs?" Harry demanded.
"Absolutist moralism is a moronic choice," Salazar responded dryly. "For all the stubborn idiocy of some of your current policies, even you must understand the necessity for flexibility."
"You're not flexible; you're damned spineless," Harry snarled at the portrait, whose eyes also flashed furiously at the insult. "Don't treat me like I'm some cowardly, gullible, delicate soul here. Draco and his ilk still get nightmares when they cross Daphne and me too much. I beat Montague, and Lord Crabbe, and a dragon. Will you ever stop calling me a moron for disagreeing with you, or are you so hopelessly in love with your own opinion that you don't know when to shut up?"
"The lion has its roar," Salazar mocked Harry, clapping slowly before whispering in mock sadness. "But it does not bite."
"I'm not only a lion, Salazar," Harry reminded the Founder with a sharp hiss. Then he leaned back and looked at Salazar with steely eyes. "Is that all you are going to tell me? Go back to reading the books?"
"If you think that reading the books is not enough, then come here to discuss them with me," Salazar suggested after staring at Harry for a long while. "I am an expert on many subjects, after all."
Harry looked at Salazar suspiciously. It might be just oversensitive paranoia, but Harry believed something was going on with the portrait and that Salazar wouldn't like it if he figured it out, which only made the puzzle more enticing.
"What? Were you not just spouting off how accomplished you were in defeating your enemies?" Salazar drawled sarcastically. "How much damage do you think can possibly come from a conversation?"
"With you? A lot," Harry deadpanned. Salazar merely smiled none-too-gently back at the teenager, who was unshaken by it. Instead, he looked at the portrait speculatively. "You used to be more professorial. Less mocking. I wonder why."
"It is far easier to mock you now," Salazar spoke in a monotone. Harry snorted and proceeded.
"I don't think that's it. You could have found a way to mock me for breathing if you were so inclined," he crossed his arms and leaned back against the chair. "I think you are mocking me because I'm challenging your opinion."
"Or perhaps because you are keener and more intelligent now," Salazar suggested lightly. "It's hardly entertaining to mock and insult people if they don't get the insult. The reaction is part of the fun, though I admit it is much better if the reaction is delayed by a couple of days."
"I'm going to roll with my theory, frankly," Harry confirmed, getting up from the chair. "I'll be coming here more often."
"And will you be reading the books?" Salazar questioned insistently. Harry walked away, and without turning back, said.
"We'll see."
As Harry left the Chamber, several things occupied his mind. Most pressing was something he had said at the very beginning of the conversation with Salazar.
"Why is he still helping me?" He murmured to himself. "I'm not bringing him any books for a while now, and he still seems emotionally invested. He wouldn't mock me otherwise. He would dismiss me. Why hasn't he?" Harry breathed out heavily, making a heavy, loud noise of frustration. "What does he want?"
He took a few steps and looked back at the Chamber before stepping out. "He wants to convince me to change my mind on Snape; I'm sure of that," he said underneath his breath. "Does he want something else?"
He tried remembering the conversations he had with Salazar, but nothing came to mind that Harry could see as being of paramount importance to the portrait. At least, nothing of note for which that particular opinion on Snape was remotely relevant.
"Another thing to look out for?" Harry grouched moodily. "What a pain in the ass."
He left the Chamber without spotting Basil's beady eyes observing him while Serena occupied herself with a rat in the distance.
"This is just so pathetic," Justin Finch-Fletchley stated pompously as the mixed group walked down the corridor. He pointed to the groups of giggling girls banding together and the boys who tried their best to look like they didn't care about anything. "It's just a formal ball, not a death sentence."
"Calm down, Eton boy," Tracey smirked at him. "Not everyone is so familiar with these things."
"You make an awful lot of Muggle jokes for a Slytherin, Davis," Justin answered back somewhat suspiciously. He never fully recovered from the Chamber-of-Secrets-induced skepticism toward anything to do with the girl's house.
"I am a half-blood," she said, shrugging.
"Do any of you have dates already?" Ernie Macmillan inquired, looking around the group as they either nodded or shook their heads. One response caught his eye. "Hannah? You're going with someone?"
"A Durmstrang boy invited me," she said shyly with a small smile. "He seemed nice."
Ernie's face soured for a moment, but he nodded understandingly a second later. Harry thought he might have wanted to go with Hannah, but Susan provided an explanation just a second later. "Stop being overly protective of Hannah, Ernie," she admonished him, wagging his finger around warningly.
"I don't trust them," he mumbled, sending the stink eye to a bystander wearing the Scandinavian school's garments.
"They're harmless," Tracey dismissed the concern. "Just a bit stuck up."
"Plus, we're all teenagers, and there'll be plenty of adult supervision," Harry stated, stretching out his arms lazily. The group's composition, with people from Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff, was not something he envisioned being possible at the beginning of the year. He did feel partially responsible for it, given that the fracture on account of his performance on the First Task had superseded House loyalties. "And I'm sure you will all be there to keep an eye on her."
"That's the problem, this pumpkin of a boy is going to be watching her like a hawk, and she's not going to enjoy herself," Susan complained, pointing at Ernie with her thumb. "She's a big girl, she can take care of herself, and if someone's going to keep an eye on her, it's certainly going to be me."
"I don't want to hear about how teenagers are harmless from you, Mr. Dragonslayer," Ernie said, deadpanning Harry who just scoffed silently at the nickname. Macmillan supported him through the scandal surrounding the First Task, but he was decidedly rooting for Cedric in the Tri-Wizard as a whole, which was fine by Harry. He then frowned at Susan. "Also, a pumpkin?"
"Looks tough on the outside but is actually quite soft on the inside," the redhead explained with a crooked grin, sending the group into laughter as Ernie reddened in embarrassment and glared at his friend.
"I thought you would have gone together," Neville commented, singling out Tracey and Harry, who looked at one another.
"I haven't thought about it, honestly," Harry responded.
"Yeah, and I'm not going to go with Harry," Tracey said somewhat apologetically before turning to the boy in question. "I'd love to go, but Slytherin wouldn't approve, even now, and I'm not sure I want to deal with the consequences."
Harry knew that the actual reason was that Daphne would have murdered Tracey in her sleep if they went together without having a lengthy conversation beforehand about it. Even then, it would likely create some rupture in their friendship, something Harry was unwilling to do. And, in fairness, he didn't know how things were in Slytherin. Harry knew that Tracey, Blaise, and Bole, the boy from the Montague incident, were administering things in Daphne's interests, but nothing more. He needed to be more aware of the situation there.
"Don't you have to find a partner for the dance?" Hannah asked.
"I believe champions are required to find a partner," Justin intervened before Harry could, slightly exasperating the latter.
"Justin is right," he said, side-eyeing the boy somewhat critically, but the admonishment was either ignored or unnoticed. "A lot of people came to talk with me, but I don't know any of them. I feel like they only want their picture published somewhere."
"What about..." Neville started before trailing off and silencing himself. Harry looked at the boy and was surprised at seeing some subdued anger in his eyes. He sent his Gryffindor friend a questioning look, but Neville just shook his head. Concernedly, Harry continued to stare at him for a second before turning to the rest of the group.
"Anyway, I'll find someone to go," he sighed. "I don't want to get involved in any drama."
"Good luck with that, Potter," Justin scoffed, raising his nose. "The students here are unacquainted with formal balls. I expect them to be overly dramatic about it."
"A lot of people around are familiar with them," Ernie corrected him.
"Mostly the Purebloods," Tracey interjected. "It's why most of Slytherin and Durmstrang are so relaxed. They already have dates because they know what to expect."
Harry sent a somewhat tense questioning look to Tracey as the conversation shifted back to Hufflepuffs. The girl smirked widely in amusement as soon as she recognized his question, and Harry felt his face heat up as her smirk grew.
"Daphne's going with Blaise," she whispered in his ear, and he breathed in relief without thinking, making the girl's amusement increase once more. Harry had a feeling that Daphne would hear about this little conversation, and he was already mentally preparing himself for the incoming teasing.
"You better not delay asking someone, Harry," Ernie advised him before looking at him oddly. "Or accepting someone's request, I guess."
"Yeah, I know," he breathed out frustratedly before contemplating the issue at hand. He did not want to create any additional friction between Daphne and Hermione — whose date he also did not know, another thing that was bringing him some anxiety — so the decision would have to be measured. He thought about Fleur but discarded the thought immediately. That wouldn't create tension between the two girls, but it would create tension between them and him, which was arguably worse. Then, he thought of something. He tapped the girl in mind in the arm and motioned her to walk back a few paces. He studiously ignored the fact everyone was watching him and said quietly. "Hey, Susan. You don't have a date, right? Would you like to go with me?"
"Harry, I'm flattered, but I'm not... ergh. Interested in you," she said politely and somewhat shamefaced. "Why don't you go with Hermione?"
"Susan, I think you're beautiful, but I'm not interested in you either," he replied somewhat tiredly. "I'm avoiding going with the people I am slightly interested in to avoid drama."
"People plural?" Susan asked curiously. Neville looked at them disapprovingly, unbeknownst to Harry, but Tracey noticed and began discreetly analyzing the boy.
Harry turned his back to the group, who jeered him for the move but respected his wish for privacy nonetheless. He then sent a fleeting look to the spot where Daphne talked with some people on the floor below. Susan, who was very much her aunt's niece, managed to direct her gaze to the appropriate spot and immediately noticed the blonde girl.
"Oooh," she said vacantly and openly surprised. Then her mind caught up with what she understood of the current political situation from her talks with her aunt, who Susan knew had shifted to Cygnus Greengrass's camp shortly before his famous speech, and her surprise increased tenfold. "Oooh!" She repeated with wide eyes. Harry nodded once and left it at a simple comment.
"Do you see the problem?" He quietly asked.
"Yeah, no shit, Harry," she whispered. She looked at Daphne again as the blonde Slytherin disappeared behind a stone arch of a corridor and then turned to him. "We are going to need to talk about this, Harry. That affects my family," she frowned softly. "I can't believe Auntie hasn't told me."
"She might be waiting for you to go back home after the Yule Ball," Harry suggested, knowing that Madam Bones would be very concerned with not spreading secretive details to Dumbledore.
"Maybe," Susan half-grunted before looking at Harry skeptically. "Do you even know how to dance?"
"I'm learning," he defended himself. When Susan looked at him even more skeptically, pursing her lips, he raised his hands. "I am! Look, I didn't know how to defeat a dragon either, did I?"
"Are you comparing me to a dragon?" Susan asked him seriously.
"No?" Harry eked out, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. Following his conversations with Salazar and Daphne, it was rare for him to be caught flat-footed, but he did not know Susan well enough to know how to deal with her seriousness and cared sufficiently about the Hufflepuff to care about not offending her. It was a complicated combination for him. Luckily, Susan cracked up at his awkward response.
"Oh, you should have seen your face," she laughed merrily, bending over, again showing the rapid shifts between serious and bubbly that he had seen so much from the girl. "Alright, I'll go with you. Don't embarrass me, Harry."
They approached the group, who were all grinning at the duo.
"Yes, we're going together," Harry anticipated their question, making Tracey and Ernie whistle suggestively to Justin and Hannah's dismay, while Neville seemed simultaneously relieved and annoyed, but still politely silent.
"As friends only, you pillocks," Susan informed them, looking at Ernie critically. The Hufflepuff grinned back at her unabashedly.
Neville, realizing he was acting moodily, looked at the boy and quipped. "So, no warnings to Harry for going with Susan?"
"I don't think they'd be remotely effective," Ernie answered back, unashamed.
"Pumpkin," Susan accused him. He protested, and they all laughed.
The Yule Ball would be a crowded affair for Harry. Not only did he have the dance with Susan, but he also needed to speak with Bill and have an interview with Daphne and Rita Skeeter about the Snape incident, something they had been postponing ever since the massive response to the First Task began. Now that it had cooled down somewhat — outside Hogwarts, at least, for inside the school the divisions still reigned — they could proceed with it, which was why he and Daphne were now returning to the school from Hogsmeade via the secret passage in the Honeydukes cellar a few hours before the dance.
"That was uneventful," Daphne commented idly and somewhat disappointed. "I expected more from the woman, given her reputation."
"I told you that I had smoothened things out with her at the Weighing of the Wands," Harry reminded her. "It's not like we had a lot to tell her beyond the truth, other than you being attacked by Snape. The story sells itself with a little credibility."
"You have no experience with the press, Harry. I had no expectation you'd be successful in taming Skeeter," she said without taking a single second to soften her words. "But I suppose taking a dragon down does lend you some credibility with the woman who likely gained a fortune with that ordeal."
"And she is going to win another one because of your trick," Harry replied mildly, detecting a faint sour tone in Daphne's voice.
"The trick I used to save you from losing your calm in front of the Headmaster," Daphne replied dryly.
"You are angry," Harry spoke up with certainty. Daphne scoffed.
"Do you want a prize, Potter?" Her blue eyes flashed dangerously, somewhat taking Harry by surprise. Daphne's wrath was cold and controlled, but this was warm, hot anger, something he hadn't seen from the girl before. He had witnessed her outrage, but not that. "Of course I'm angry," she spat out.
Harry remained quietly looking at the girl as she marched towards Hogwarts, seething. "Why are you angry?" He finally asked calmly. It was a testament to how much he felt comfortable around Daphne that even that unexpected burst of passion did not faze him.
Instead of answering, Daphne growled and turned back, holding him by the collar of his robes. "You are mine," she snapped.
"Daphne—" Harry started, only to be interrupted.
"Shut up!" She yelled over him and took a second to calm herself down. "I don't care for that idiotic rivalry with Granger anymore."
"Her name is Hermione," Harry admonished her.
"I don't care," Daphne repeated harshly, tightening her hold on his collar and staring at Harry fiercely, rapidly changing her focus between both his eyes. "You think I don't see the way you look at me, you dolt? The way we talk, the way we act, the way we dance around each other when we're alone? Who you entrust your secrets to, and who you don't?"
"Daphne—" He tried again, more firmly.
"Deny it," she ordered him. When he opened his mouth wordlessly, she insisted. "Deny it. Deny that you're mine."
Harry remained quiet, looking at Daphne's eyes, watching as they slowly cleared from their anger.
"That's what I thought," she whispered and let him go. She turned away and began walking towards the school again before she spoke. "That's why I'm angry. You're mine, and I hate sharing."
"You're not sharing me with anyone," Harry replied, slightly subdued.
"No, you're just dancing with another woman," Daphne laughed mirthlessly, throwing her head back as she did. Harry caught a sliver of her expression, closed off and hurt. It made his stomach sink slightly.
"You know why this is happening, Daphne," Harry said softly.
"I do," she answered promptly. "And it's the right choice. But that doesn't mean it's not painful."
"I'm sorry," Harry comforted her, lightly squeezing her shoulder. Daphne rolled her eyes at the awkward gesture, gently removed his palm from where it rested, and linked hands with him.
"Don't apologize; it's just frustrating," Daphne breathed out, not letting go of his hands. Harry enjoyed holding hands with her. She had delicate, soft, warm hands, and he was struck by how different she was now then when they first met. Or more accurately, how much more open to herself she was around him. The Daphne he first befriended would never have grabbed him by the collar like this Daphne just did, to say nothing of holding hands like that. "I hate hiding. It reminds me too much of my first years at Hogwarts. I can take lying in the shadows, waiting, but this is not that; we're just hiding, and it's loathsome."
"It's necessary," he reminded her softly, though he didn't disagree.
"I know," she spoke back. "But as I said, it doesn't mean it's not painful." Harry nodded sadly, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the entrance to the castle, she sighed softly. "I'll go first, wait a few minutes just in case."
Daphne hesitated slightly at the foot of the entrance but settled for unlocking hands with Harry and reentering the castle in silence. Harry groaned, closed his eyes, rested his head on the wall behind him, and waited.
He didn't want to talk with Hermione about what just happened.
A few minutes later, Harry began preparing for the ball itself. He would be going with the same outfit with which he went to Greengrass Manor just before the year started, so he wasn't all that worried about his appearance. The dance itself was another issue, however. Dancing with Daphne had taught him how to be averagely competent, at the very least, so he wouldn't shame himself or Susan, but the prospect of being around that many people as the focus point was somewhat daunting. Though he recognized by now that he would never achieve normalcy — and Harry wasn't didn't think that was what he wished for anymore — he would much rather go to the Yule Ball as someone more anonymous.
Ron kept eyeing him warily as they changed into their formal robes, but Harry was tired of trying to interpret his erstwhile best friend's behavior. Ron had never been a coward, much to the contrary, so he should have come sooner to apologize. That he hadn't gotten over himself showed he didn't value the friendship enough to get outside his comfort zone or that he didn't think he was in the wrong. Regardless, it wasn't Harry's responsibility to understand the signs as though Weasley-reading was some obscure Divination technique.
Neville was happily humming away something Harry vaguely recognized as a waltz.
"Look at you, gettin' all perked up like a peacock," Seamus teased him loudly as he tried to smoothen the robes he laid down on his bed.
"I like dancing," Neville shrugged somewhat bashfully and got back to humming, though a bit quieter.
"Don't let that tosser get to you, Neville," Dean spoke while adjusting his hair.
"That's to say nothin' 'bout Harry, eh? About to slay another dragon with those fancy robes of yours?" The Irish boy turned his attention to Harry, as did everybody else. Everyone in his year group, at least in the male dorm, was on Harry's side when it came to the aftermath of the dragon incident. While he definitely felt the glares and whispers accompany him as he walked by, Harry hadn't suffered much personally, though he had noticed his reputation shifting.
"I'm telling Susan you think she's a dragon," Harry quipped, remembering his own conversation with the redhead.
"She's about as hot as one," Seamus said reverently before smirking at Harry. "Think I can sneak a dance with her under your nose?"
"Who did you trick into being with you, again?" Harry asked instead, jokingly looking down at the Irish boy, who laughed happily.
"I'm going with one of the French birds," he declared proudly. "Ireland and France united once more."
"I've told you at least a dozen times that it's Scotland and France," Dean complained exasperatedly.
"I'm sure there's one Irish and French one too," Seamus dismissed him.
"Well, going outside Hogwarts is the only way you could get a date, considering your reputation," Harry mused with mock seriousness, rubbing his chin and looking thoughtful.
"Nah, I took pity on you lads," Seamus replied promptly. "And you know me; I have to take my talents internationally."
"Right," Harry scoffed amusedly before turning to Dean. "Who are you taking, actually?"
"I'm taking Ginny," he smiled charmingly.
"Watch it," Ron said sulkily from his corner.
"I'll be the perfect gentleman," Dean reassured him.
"You better," Ron muttered moodily. His gaze met Harry's, and he looked away, awkwardly tending over his robes again.
"I didn't know you like dancing so much, Neville," Harry commented, looking over at the boy.
"Gran taught me how to dance my entire childhood," Neville smiled fondly in remembrance. "It always made me comfortable."
"That's a bit surprising," Dean grinned in his direction. "You're not exactly well coordinated."
"Do you think that taking care of the plants in the Herbology greenhouses doesn't take coordination?" Neville questioned. Harry was pleasantly surprised by how much more frequent these moments had been happening with his friend lately.
"Fair enough," Dean laughed, conceding the point by holding his hands up.
"Hermione is going to be happy that you like dancing," Harry spoke. "She told me that she liked dancing a few times."
"Yeah, I'm excited too," Neville smiled. "I'm not an amazing dancer, but that's not the point, I think. Dancing is fun. It's not like this is a serious ball, anyway."
"That's the spirit!" Harry exclaimed, punching the boy in the shoulder. "I'll be going to run an errand, then."
"Don't run by the Beauxbatons carriage!" Seamus hollered at him as he left the room. "Don't be stealin' my girl, lookin' all fancy like that!"
"If you don't shut up, I might!" Harry answered back and started the walk down the Gryffindor Tower.
He felt the stares following him as he passed by people, and he also recognized some of the looks directed his way were less than innocent, in both meanings of the word. Harry wasn't much afraid that someone would attack him in the hallways — the ordeal after the ambush on Madeleine had made that a barrier that no one was willing to cross anymore, for fear of that mysterious Slytherin that had punished them all — but he reflexively rested his hand over the pommel of Fang, which was strapped to his belt, hidden by the long cloak.
McLaggen, who was climbing the stairs to go to the Common Room, looked at Harry with such loathing that it was somewhat shocking. Harry met his gaze evenly and stopped the walk as if daring the boy to say something to his face for once. He didn't, but he did sneer bitterly before walking away. Other people eyed Harry more respectfully because of his robes, mostly the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, who recognized what he was doing by making so many references to his ancestry to Godric Gryffindor.
The few Beauxbatons students Harry crossed on his way to the meeting point with Bill looked at him in a completely different light. Harry suspected it was solely because he had dressed up well to their fashion sensibilities. The Durmstrang contingent, as always, showed complete indifference to his presence, other than a few appreciative glances.
The female attention was a bit unnerving to him. Daphne had been earnestly aggressive, and to a degree, so had Hermione. Tracey had suggested that he was popular in circles around the school, but he hadn't taken the girl seriously until just then.
"Looking good, Harry," Bill smirked, already waiting on him by the Great Hall, wearing a four-piece suit in purple with silver detailing, the coat as long as Harry's. If Harry had been receiving a steady stream of attention, Bill was getting a river's worth of it, though he looked unaffected or uncaring about it.
"Somehow, coming from you, that feels disingenuous," Harry quipped, offering his hand for a handshake, which Bill took firmly.
"It's good to see you, Harry," the oldest Weasley sibling greeted warmly.
"It's good to see you too," Harry repeated the greeting with just as much feeling. "Have you seen your siblings yet?"
"Only Ginny," he said fondly. "I spent most of my time since I arrived speaking with McGonagall and Flitwick."
"He would want you to call him Filius," Harry spoke, remembering his conversations with the half-goblin.
"He did mention that," Bill mentioned, his lips twitching in amusement.
"I imagine that once I leave Hogwarts, I'll call them by their first names," Harry mused.
"Would you call McGonagall as Minerva?" Bill questioned with a small smile, instantly horrifying Harry.
"Yeah, nevermind that," the younger boy spoke firmly, making the older one laugh.
"Right? McGonagall will always be McGonagall to me, no matter how much she insists otherwise," Bill declared before looking around. "I've missed this place," he said nostalgically. "I made a lot of good memories here."
"I can only imagine," Harry spoke diplomatically.
"Hogwarts hasn't treated you that well, huh?" Bill asked, catching up on Harry's hesitancy.
"This place still feels like home to me," Harry replied, looking over at the door through which the Ball would be held in just a couple of hours. He could hear people making final preparations. "But it had its fair share of bad moments."
"That's underselling it from what Ginny told me," Bill spoke somewhat grimly before gesturing for Harry to move. "Let's go somewhere quiet to talk."
"Actually, I have the greatest place in mind," Harry told him, thinking of the Room of Requirement.
"I know this castle top to down," Bill spoke dryly but somewhat jokingly.
"And I know it back to front," Harry smirked. "Come on; you won't regret it."
"Alright then," Bill laughed shortly. "I defer to your allegedly superior knowledge."
"There's no 'allegedly' about it," Harry responded, opening a secret passage he learned from the Marauder's Map. Bill just looked at him indulgently, showing that he knew about it.
They walked in relative silence until Bill asked.
"So, Amèlie is here, huh?"
"You know her?" Harry asked curiously.
"She's quite famous in her field, the Red Alchemist," Bill spoke, looking thoughtful. "Alchemists generally deal with the goblins with fair regularity. Some of their most prized materials are found more abundantly in the magically saturated environment of the goblin underground caves and dwellings than anywhere else."
"I guess that makes sense," Harry hummed. "So, can you tell me anything about her?"
"She makes some of the most unorthodox requests, and the goblins are not big on her, which are signs that she is both extremely competent and knows how to bargain," the redhead explained. "People with nicknames like the Red Alchemist deserve them, in my experience."
"Are you looking forward to becoming the Red Curse-Breaker?" Harry smirked.
"You're getting too funny for your own good," Bill complained, but his expression showed his bemusement.
"I just think the nickname is a bit overdramatic, don't you?" Harry asked, a bit exasperated.
"Well, you would know about dramatic monikers, wouldn't you, Dragonslayer?" Bill asked back jokingly. When Harry groaned, he continued. "Or do you prefer the good old Boy-Who-Lived?"
"Just stop," Harry grumbled, which made Bill laugh. They finally reached the entrance to the Room of Requirement, which Harry opened wordlessly. "This is a room that turns into whatever you want," he explained to the oldest Weasley sibling, which was analyzing the place with a cautious eye.
"So, you figured out how this place works," Bill eventually spoke, sitting on a pouf. Harry had gained a taste for them from his place on Diagon.
"You know the Room?" Harry asked, astonished.
"I found this place once on accident," Bill explained, still looking around, testing the Room's capabilities to pop things into existence by wishing for loose furniture to appear and then disappear. "I spent a few months looking for it again but never found it. What I wouldn't give to study this place," he whispered the last sentence in earnest worship.
"You're welcome to look around," Harry shrugged.
"No, Septima will kill me if I'm late," Bill exhaled. "Maybe one day, though. Let's begin, shall we?"
"Of course," Harry conceded eagerly.
"Before anything else, I have to ask you," the older man spoke slowly, leaning forwards on the pouf. "Can you tell me more about what happened with Snape?"
"Why do you want to know?" Harry questioned warily.
"Humor me," Bill requested. "Don't start from the attack. Go over it briefly from the beginning. I hear Dumbledore sidelined him for a couple of months?"
Harry explained the entire situation to Bill, answering any questions that the other asked in as much detail as he could remember. He began slowly but began speaking more earnestly once he realized Bill was trying to discover something and wasn't trying to get more information for its sake.
"I see," the older man mumbled eventually.
"Can you tell me why you asked me all of those questions?" Harry demanded politely but firmly, making Bill face him pensively for a couple of seconds before he nodded.
"I wrote in my letter to you that Snape was one of the most accomplished Occlumens in the country, remember?" Harry confirmed that he did, and Bill continued. "Well, it is odd that such a strong Occlumens was so enraged that he attacked in such a despicable manner for no reason," his expression grew angry and heavy as he spoke of what Snape had done, even if he had remained calm during Harry's report. "I was wondering why that was."
"And you have a theory?" Harry guessed.
"I do," Bill started slowly. "Occlumency is a very odd branch of magic. To be completely honest, we don't know that much about it, in part because we don't know that much about the brain. Relying on Muggle Psychology is a way of understanding it a bit more, but specialists from both sides of the magical divide would be among the first to tell you that there are as many mysteries inside our brains as there are outside them, or maybe even more," the older man took a second to consider his next words before he spoke. "In my field in Gringotts, there's a necessity to learn the Mind Arts to some degree. Goblins employ wizards to secure contract negotiations using Legilimency, and they employ wizards in high-risk situations only if they are trained in Occlumency."
"How come?"
"Well, it wouldn't do them any good if they panicked," Bill shrugged. "Occlumency is the best way to keep your wits about you in a tense situation, and very few things are as tense as curse-breaking. You never know which obscure and perverse traps you will find rummaging around Egypt," his eyes got distant and unseeing, no doubt remembering things he had witnessed. After a few seconds of solemn silence, he shook himself back into awareness. "Anyway, with some help from magical experts, the goblins developed a more or less standardized technique to go around gaining a solid understanding of Occlumency, but there's a caveat."
"Okay," Harry nodded when Bill paused for a second, silently asking if Harry was understanding.
"The Gringotts way of doing things is a good way of learning solid foundations, but it also doesn't progress you further than a certain point," he said, moving his hands about to show an imaginary progress bar. "People who wish to excel in Occlumency have to unlearn some things they learned from this method to advance further than this, so people can't reach mastery of this particular branch of magic in the way I've learned it. Just passable competency."
"But you can still advance, right?" Harry questioned. He was excited to get any progress on Occlumency, so what Bill said about Gringotts was excellent news, but not if he couldn't find a way to master it. By what Salazar had told him, mastery of it would be far too useful to dismiss.
"Of course. Think of it as silent casting or wandless casting. You have to unlearn some things that you learned, such as the key importance of incantations. But it's definitely possible to master it, even if you hadn't learned that way initially." To illustrate, Bill wandlessly muttered the Levitation Charm on a quill that the Room popped into existence for them, and they watched as it smoothly rose, following his finger, and then fell delicately. "Which brings us to Snape," he exhaled, somewhat tiredly.
"I was wondering when you would circle back to that," Harry spoke casually.
"It needed some context," Bill rubbed his face with his palm, looking for a way of putting his suspicions into words. "I think what Snape did was build a formidable castle on a pit of quicksand," he declared, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Harry through half-lidded eyes. "I don't mean to psychoanalyze the man, but he's always shown that he has some complicated issues, all the while I was here at Hogwarts, and from what my siblings have been saying and from what you just told me, they've gotten worse. The first step to learning Occlumency, regardless of it coming from Gringotts or not, is self-understanding of a certain sort, though the degree and scope of the endeavor vary from person to person. Snape doesn't seem the kind to have ever sorted out his issues well, and the man was a Death Eater in the war before his supposed rehabilitation. We don't know how that may have affected his mind or sense of self-understanding. So he built a truly formidable understanding of Occlumency, but with a faulty base."
"But if that is true, why didn't he fail in the first place? You're not supposed to be able to build anything on an unstable foundation, are you?" Harry inquired, trying to imagine what Bill was saying.
"For all his faults, Snape is a very clever man, Harry," Bill spoke. "And remember, it's also supposed to be harder for an Occlumens to lose his temper, but Snape's handle on his anger has been appalling ever since I was a student. How does a man whose dominance of Occlumency is famously vast not enjoy one of the advantages that a basic Occlumens gets from the same field?"
Harry pondered the argument and remembered Snape's wrath when the former Professor found Sirius and Lupin in the Shrieking Shack.
"I see your point," Harry mumbled.
"What I think happened for him to get that bad that he would attack a couple of students unprompted is that his Occlumency ended up suppressing his anger instead of dealing with it. He did not take into account the act that pressuring an emotion only makes it more desperate for release," Bill mused, looking at the ground pensively. "A few people make that mistake and end up cracking, but the fact he was so good at other aspects of Occlumency meant he could subdue any rage for years, maybe even for the entire decade and a half since the war."
"So when he finally lost control, he really lost it," Harry mumbled, both frightened of what might have happened to him if not for Serena and slightly embittered that his teacher attacked him because he never learned how to deal with his issues.
"Messing with the Mind Arts is incredibly dangerous if you're not careful," Bill warned Harry. "Remember what I told you, we don't know that much about the brain. We don't know how Occlumency affects your mind properly. There's a lot of conspiracy theorists that say that the reason the Ministry doesn't allow for the teaching of Occlumency is that a population of wizards who knew it would be harder to control. While it isn't completely without merit, those claims fail to address the actual reason why learning it is banned without a licensed tutor: it's easy to mess up if you're not very deliberate."
"How come Gringotts employees learn it, then?" Harry questioned.
"Underground, Ministry control is very limited. Goblin customs are followed more strictly than the actual law," Bill informed Harry, though he looked like he knew far more than what he spoke.
"So, what do I need to do to learn Occlumency?" Harry asked Bill, excited once again but sufficiently subdued by the harrowing prospect of ending up like Snape.
"Well, it's not going to be easy just because it is easier than the alternative," Bill anticipated, trying to caution Harry against being overeager, before retrieving a small learning booklet from the inside of his outer coat. "This is what the goblins give to us to learn, and it's an excellent resource guide. Take a look at it in your time, but before you do, I want to give you some more personal advice on what to do."
"Alright," Harry conceded, looking at the book reverently. It was covered by a small, smooth, blue membrane that reminded him of leather, but with an additional property he couldn't quite put his finger on. He stored it on his coat and looked at the older redhead for guidance.
"Keep in mind that this is just to build a good foundation, in the first place. Dumbledore or some other person may tell you of the more advanced uses for the Mind Arts one day," Bill started. "I'll begin by telling you that I'm not even going to tell you about them, or you'll be so focused on something that will come only years down the road that you'll fail to pay attention to the very first steps."
"But how am I supposed to know what to do if I don't know where the road ends?" Harry inquired confusedly, remembering similar conversations with Salazar in which the Founder insisted on looking at a final goal before drawing the steps back from that.
"You need to crawl before you run, Harry," Bill instructed patiently. "You don't learn a whole orchestra before you learn string progression, after all. There will be time to learn advanced things in the future. Focus on the present, not the future, because it is immaterial to making a solid Occlumency foundation."
"Alright," Harry nodded somewhat warily. He trusted Bill's words, but he was directly contradicting Salazar, and for all the suspicious behavior the portrait recently showed, he was still Salazar Slytherin, one of the most accomplished wizards in history. Still, he kept an open mind.
"The base of Occlumency, as I told you, is self-understanding. It can be a bit vague," Bill grinned slightly. "I certainly suffered a lot from that while under the care of that Buddhist witch I told you about the last time we spoke. But the goblins circle that issue by proposing questions that you should answer. You mustn't just answer them in a yes or no manner, but draw them out in your mind, play around with it until you're certain of what you would do."
"That's clever," Harry praised the idea. "I never know where to start when I try to meditate."
"Eventually, you'll be able to meditate fairly easily if you get used to this method. The idea is to make you get accustomed to quickly addressing complex problems so that when you have to field the next step in learning Occlumency, entering the necessary meditative state is much easier," Bill explained. "Everyone has a different read on what meditation is, and one of the most infuriating things about finding the absolute core of your mind is that it is impossible to describe both the path and the feeling. Once you grasp it, trust me, you'll know. Until then, work with mulling the questions on that booklet."
"I will," Harry nodded.
"It helps if you're using meditation incense to relax," Bill added. "Do you still have the ones I gave you?"
"Yeah, but they're running low on potency by now," Harry commented.
"I figured, so I brought some more," Bill spoke, again reaching into his coat and grabbing a slim package full of individual sticks of incense. "A personal tip: when you find a question that you don't have any idea of how to answer, you don't have to answer it now. The questions are not ordered. They're designed to give you a good idea of who you are, but they are limited in scope. That's why you have to unlearn the things you learn once you want to be more advanced," Bill stopped talking for a second and frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, it's pretty much exactly like learning a spell with the incantation, and then having to cast it silently or wandlessly. You're just labeling things. To do more advanced things, you need a more abstract understanding of your mind, so this method's usefulness breaks down."
"Why is the abstraction so important?" Harry asked, not fully understanding it.
"Well, the best advantage of the Gringotts method in regards to self-understanding is that it makes it far easier to deal and process your emotions when they are triggered by something, but the most advanced techniques in Occlumency don't deal with emotions as much as they deal with concepts," Bill spoke slowly. "It's hard to explain before you reach some mastery of the basics of the Gringotts method, but it's like the difference between walking in a corridor in the school or taking a broom and flying above it. The abstraction allows you to go in directions that the more straightforward Gringotts method simply doesn't allow."
"I appreciate the idea," Harry mumbled before speaking more clearly. "But I don't think I'll truly internalize it until I begin work on it."
"That's a fair assessment, I believe," Bill claimed, getting up from the pouf. "For now, though, you have a ball to think about. It's already getting pretty close to the start, I'm sure your date is waiting for you."
Harry cast a Tempus and blinked in surprise. "That passed quickly," he stated somewhat dazed. "I'm not late, but I was about to be. Thanks for everything, Bill."
"Don't mention it," he waved the earnest thankfulness from Harry. "Do keep it a secret, however. I will be fired if the goblins discover I gave you company material without their consent."
"I will," Harry assured him.
"Good lad. Let's go, then?" Bill asked.
Harry nodded and they left the Room of Requirement. It was, quite literally, time to face the music.