Suffering: Chapter Ten
Disclaimer: Sooo not mine. If it were, I would be rich enough to hire somebody to do my homework for me.
A/N: Okay, I am sure that after that lengthy delay, many of you are ready to attack me. However, I beg of you the throw your pitchforks and other pointy objects aside until I have explained myself. :::casts nervous glance at readers::: I really DO have an excuse! So, my disk with ALL of my fanfiction was unfortunately destroyed....good-bye half done chapter ten, eh? I needed to get on to ff.net to see where I ended chapter nine so I could rewrite my beginning of chapter ten. However, I have had a monstrous amount of homework lately, and I was playing tennis and I had a play and all this band stuff was going on..., and my weekly guitar and choir. Plus I'm lazy. So, given all those conditions, I haven't made bad time....(ducks as various rotten fruits are thrown at her) A carrot? What the hll? WHO THROWS A CARROT? Anyway... I have decided that this story needs an overhaul...which will be hard without the disk, but it's worth it. And...I got grounded from the computer for a week. So PLEASE forgive the not-so- often updates!
On another note: I have decided to chuck out the review responses- they simply take up to much time/space. Thank you to all who are reviewing! If you have a specific question or something, email me.
I think you've waited long enough....who's ready for Chapter Ten? (raises hand) ME!
Harry was still shaking from the dream. Lead seemed to be pooling in his stomach, and lifting his feet became nearly impossible. When the spiral staircase began to move, he simply stood gaping at it.
Snape, who he had forgotten was there at all, grabbed his arm impatiently and pulled him forward. The touch was unexpected and Harry closed his eyes tightly, begging himself not to panic. He began to tremble and took deep, shaking breaths. He remained still for several moments, and it was only when Snape's biting voice reached his ears that he realized the staircase had stopped moving.
"Are you going to actually speak with the headmaster or would you prefer to stand there admiring his door? Honestly, I knew idiocy was hereditary, but yours seems to outstrip even your father's."
Harry fixed a quivering gaze on him, an angry pounding in his ears. "He's dead. Can you just let it be? Personally, I think it's rather pathetic that you still hold a grudge against a dead man." Harry turned away to go into Dumbledore's office, but Snape grabbed his arm—hard.
"Summer or not, I am still a professor at this school and will be treated with respect."
For a moment, Harry had to remind himself that he was at Hogwarts and would never have to worry about being beaten by an adult. Working furiously to stay calm, he tore his arm away from the Professor's grip. "Don't touch me. Ever." There was an angry glint in Snape's eyes, but slowly lowered his hand. He swiftly walked around Harry into Dumbledore's office. The teen followed in his wake, knowing that he was angering the already volatile Potions Master.
The ancient-looking Headmaster appeared a few minutes later, striding out of a side door.
"Ah, Severus, Harry. What can I do for you?"
Snape spoke up first. "Potter says he had a dream-"
"Vision." Harry cut in shortly.
The professor sneered. "Vision...and insisted that he speak to you about it."
"Severus, I asked Harry to come to me if he had any more of these dreams."
Snape was clearly unimpressed, but made no further remarks.
"What happened, Harry?" asked the Headmaster, turning all of his attention back to the shivering teenager in front of him.
"Well..." Harry began, suddenly feeling very foolish, "I came back from the library to Sn...Professor Snape's quarters, but I didn't know the password so I sat down to wait...and, well, I guess I got really dizzy. I suppose I sort of passed out...so I hadn't been able to clear my mind." He said all of this very quietly.
"Then what?" prompted Dumbledore gently.
Harry opened his mouth, ready to describe the fresh wave of horror he had witnessed, but he could not force a sound out of his throat.
"Is there somewhere else you would be more comfortable?" asked the aging wizard.
Harry shook his head briefly, pretending he hadn't heard the impatient snort that had come from the direction of his Potions Master.
"No," he croaked out, "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."
Dumbledore nodded and conjured Harry a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "Much better than tea after a bad nightmare," he said, matter-of-factly.
Harry smiled gratefully and took a sip of the chocolate, stalling the moment when he would have to think about the dream. Finally, he began to recount the dream.
The Dark Lord stood in the middle of a much emptier circle. The gaps of missing followers had widened after several of his most trusted Death Eaters had been taken to Azkaban.
"My loyal followers..." he began, smiling a cruel, self-satisfied smile despite the missing numbers. "There are pitifully few of you left, are there not? Of course, that blithering idiot Fudge finally listened to Albus Dumbledore, though his blindness did give us some time. However, there are now Aurors instead of dementors guarding Azkaban, so it seems unlikely that we will be able to get them out as easily as last time."
Voldemort paused to draw a deep breath, causing a collective shudder from the various people around the clearing.
"I admit, I underestimated them last time. Not just Harry Potter, but the children with him as well. It seems they have been training without the help of that woman, Delores Umbridge. This year, however, we will be able to plant a spy of sorts in Hogwarts. Even the great Albus Dumbledore will not be able to detect them."
At this point, Voldemort seemed to feel he had said enough about his plan and instead turned to the remaining Death Eaters, one at a time.
"Bellatrix," he said in a mocking voice, "You failed to retrieve the Prophecy. I am very disappointed. You would already be dead were you not so valuable. Crucio!"
One of the hooded figures dropped, writhing but not screaming. After what seemed like a terribly long time, Riddle released her from the curse.
The pupil-less red eyes stared around in satisfaction, past the assembled Dark wizards. "Harry Potter," he whispered in a low, menacing voice, "no doubt you have seen this. So I leave it up to you...is it merely a dream? Another false vision? Or is it real this time? Your cause can hardly withstand more failure. Do you miss your godfather, Potter? Wouldn't you hate it if the Mudblood or the Weasley fool to meet his same fate?"
Harry explained the dream in full detail to the two professors, except for the part where hearing Voldemort's foul tongue speak about Sirius had made him feel as though his heart was being ripped in two, and had caused his scar to sear with an angry burst of agony.
Dumbledore considered this carefully. "And you are still feeling it when Tom performs the Cruciatus on other people?"
Harry nodded, looking down.
"Then I highly doubt this was just a regular nightmare. Severus, do you have a basic pain relief potion in supply?"
Snape nodded, his sneer looking a little more forced than it had when he had accompanied Harry into the room.
"Well then, Harry, why don't you go back to the rooms and have a bit of a lie-down? Be sure to clear your mind first, of course."
Harry, who could scarcely keep his eyes open any longer, was more than happy to accept the suggestion. He pulled himself to his feet, nearly falling over in the process, and tottered in a trance-like state out of the room.
"How long do you suppose it will be before he realizes he still doesn't know the password?" Albus's voice was laced with faint amusement as he spoke to Severus.
Professor Snape, on the other hand, was much too perplexed to humor the man. Potter had him thoroughly confused, and if there was one thing the Potions Master hated more than being confused, it was being confused by a Gryffindor.
A few seconds later Harry walked slowly back into the room, his face flushing with a dull sort of embarrassment. "Uh, sir?" he almost whispered, looking at his feet, "I still don't know the password..."
"What?" Severus was, for once, caught off guard. "Oh, it's Gummiente..."
"Thank you, sir." It wasn't until Potter had left the room that he realized he had been civil to the boy without even trying.
"See how different he is when he's not with his friends, Severus?"
"You mean respectful?"
"No. I mean withdrawn and frightened." Albus gave him one of those infuriating gazes. "You see it too, don't you? That's not normal behavior for a fifteen—almost sixteen—year-old. Do try to get him to lighten up, won't you?"
"You want me to get someone else to ...cheer up, Albus? Do you realize to whom you are speaking, or have you started going senile?"
The headmaster just shook his head. "Believe it or not, you can be quite the entertainer when you want to be."
Snape snorted. "Yes. Well, since I'm here, I thought you would like to know I'm going to be starting up the boy's Occlumency lessons again, tomorrow, if possible."
Dumbledore's gaze became stony. "That's quite soon."
"The sooner he can defend his mind against penetration, the better."
"Are you certain?"
"You want me to teach him, so I'd prefer that you would trust my judgement."
"Very well. Prepare yourself, then. I doubt you will see much of anything pleasant."
"I thought he used the Pensieve."
"I think he did, but that doesn't mean he rid himself of all of his most unpleasant memories."
"Albus, you do realize he will need to start putting those memories back into his mind as he progresses at Occlumency?"
"Yes, yes, I know, but I thought it best to give him some relief, if only for awhile."
It took Harry a rather long time to make his way down to Snape's rooms. When he made it, he exhaustedly whispered the password and clambered into the portrait hole. He didn't feel as though he would be able to properly empty his mind, and he was terrified of having more visions, so he fought off the need for sleep. Instead, shivering, he wrapped himself in the comforter from his bed and sat in front of the professor's ever-roaring fire. It was there that Professor Snape found him nearly forty-five minutes later.
"Potter?"
"Hmm?" Harry could hear that his own voice was laced with exhaustion.
"Why didn't you go too sleep?"
"Too tired...couldn't clear my mind...don't want to have another vision...give Voldemort more information..."
"What did I tell you last year about using the Dark Lord's name?"
"Sorry P'fessor Snape...P'fessor Dumbledore told me to...first year..." Harry couldn't get his heavy tongue to make the right words.
"Oh, this is ridiculous. Hold on, I'll get you a mild wakefulness potion."
Harry continued gazing at the fire, willing himself to stay awake. He heard footsteps walking away and then returning.
"Here." A vial was thrust roughly into his hands.
Harry popped the cork off the vial and downed its contents quickly. He instantly felt a wakefulness comparable to a caffeine jolt surge through him.
"Thank you..." he said, feeling the uncontrollable urge to twitch.
"It will wear off in ten to fifteen minutes, and I want you to concentrate very hard on clearing your mind. I am going to help you."
"Professor..."
"What it is it, Potter?"
"I just wanted to thank you, sir, for helping me...I know it's been risky for you...and...I...well...I sort of...err..."
"I know speech is difficult for you, but if you try very hard, I think you'll manage."
"I wanted to apologize, sir, for looking into your Pensieve. And for what my father did. It was wrong, and I can see why you hated him for it." Harry spoke the last couple of sentences to his feet, unwilling to look Snape in the eye. For several minutes, the older man did not speak, and Harry feared he had said something to enrage him. When he looked up, however, the professor merely looked thoughtful.
"Thank you. I never got a sincere apology from James, not once. That took courage...not just that Gryffindor waffle you lot are always going on about, either."
Harry looked at him for a minute. Something about Snape's expression was familiar, but it was certainly not a look he was accustomed to seeing on this particular man's face. He realized that Professor Severus Snape, the most frightening Potions Master Hogwarts had ever seen, the professor who made the occasional first year wet their pants, had just accepted his apology. And, even more astounding, he had shown humor...humor that was not a biting remark directed at Harry.
"Er...thank you...for accepting my apology." He hoped he didn't look too shocked.
Snape gave a brief nod but quickly became businesslike. "Alright. Now quickly, before the potion wears off, you need to concentrate on clearing you mind."
Harry sat and focused on making his mind blank. As always, he found himself preoccupied and struggling.
"Come on, Potter, you can do it." Professor Snape seemed to sense he was having problems.
"I'm trying...it's not working."
"You need to concentrate. Is there a place that you can visualize that can help you find tranquility?"
Harry pictured the lake, but that only reminded him of Sirius. A sharp pain reverberated through his head, and he gasped. "I don't have a place like that."
"Start again. Start emptying your mind again. This time, try to visualize blackness. Close your eyes."
Harry did as he was told, focusing only on the silence of his mind. He concentrated until he thought his head would surely burst. He wanted to stop and tell Snape he couldn't do it: his head was throbbing from the sheer concentration it required.
He felt the Professor take his hands. "I'm going to help you. Keep concentrating." He felt warmth coming from the older man and put all of his effort in directing the extra energy to clearing his mind. He finally felt a sort of shift beginning to occur in his mind, as though all of his previous thoughts and memories were being shifted aside, leaving behind a sort of blissful awareness—similar to the state he often fell into during one of Binns's long lectures during History of Magic.
"Did it work?" Snape's voice sounded almost anxious.
Harry opened his eyes. "Yes," he said, feeling detached.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You successfully performed Occlumency. Now get some rest."
He gratefully stood up, already feeling the effects of wakefulness potion ebbing away. Wobbling into the bedroom that the professor had shown him earlier, he sank unceremoniously onto the still made bed.
Severus thoughtfully watched the boy stumble out of the room. Certainly, the last thing he had expected from Potter was an apology, and a sincere one at that. It definitely wasn't something James would've done. Of course, Harry had admitted to being unimpressed by the memory he had seen...Perhaps the boy wasn't so much like his father after all.
Snape took a moment to consider the boy's O.W.L. scores. Though he didn't know it, Harry had somehow managed to receive an "Outstanding" grade on his Potions exam, earning him the right to be in his N.E.W.T. preparatory class. He was half impressed, half frustrated. Clearly, he had potential that he wasn't working up to. Severus wondered if he could benefit from some tutoring, because the N.E.W.T class was going to require much more effort than he had put forth previously. He began thinking of potions that he could have him brew to for practice. Between that and Occlumency, the boy might be too busy to bother him.
He suddenly gave a huge yawn and stretched. He hadn't realized how tired he was while he was helping Potter, but now that he was sitting still, he could hardly keep his eyes open. He decided to go to his own room and get some much needed rest. As always, he thoroughly cleared his mind before going to sleep.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting in Ron's bedroom. Out of pure boredom, they had reverted to an old game that Hermione had taught them: "Would you Rather?"
"Your turn, Hermione," said Ginny fruitlessly, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread.
"Oh, I don't know...I'm not very good at these...Ron, you do it."
"Okay...would you rather...be stuck in the dungeons with Filch for three hours...or have a forty-five minute class with Snape in his foulest mood?" He grinned.
Ginny answered promptly, "Filch," but Hermione frowned disapprovingly.
"Ron," she scolded, "now that Professor Snape is...Harry's guardian for the summer, maybe you could try to be a little more respectful."
Ron scoffed, but a voice from the doorway said, "You have always been the most reasonable teenager I know, Hermione."
"Professor Lupin!" she gasped, turning around. You startled me."
"Yes, well, you know what Moody says, 'Constant Vigilance'. And it's Remus, Hermione."
Ginny jumped into the conversation quickly. "Profe—Remus, that is, any news on Harry?"
He shook his head with a faint sad smile. "None yet. I'm sure you'll be able to see him soon. There are just some things he needs to...cope with...first."
His expression turned thoughtful and he walked away quite suddenly.
"Why does he always walk off like that?" asked Ron.
Hermione sighed. "Because, Ron, he is obviously affected by Sirius' death just as much as Harry. James and Lily died, and he thought that Wormtail was dead and Sirius had betrayed them. Then, after being isolated from them for twelve years, his ex-best friend escapes from jail and he learns he's innocent. Then he learned Wormtail, who he had been mourning, was actually alive and the real traitor. Just about two years after he is reunited with his best friend, that best friend dies. Obviously, he's quite upset by Sirius dying. At the same time, he feels very guilty because he believed Sirius was a murderer for twelve years. And he's wondering if there's something wrong with him that causes his best friends to die. Not to mention he's no doubt feeling very lonely, and wants to help Harry but doesn't know how." She said this as though it were obvious, Ginny nodding in agreement.
Ron stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, before finally saying, "Can all girls do that or is it just you?"
Ginny said, "Well, a lot of that is really quite obvious. Hermione just has a way of putting it into words better." She smiled. "It's not so much that girls are good at it as much as guys are absolutely hopeless at it."
Hermione laughed.
Ron frowned. "Girls..."
The next morning, Harry woke feeling more well-rested than he had the entire summer. Yawning, he stretched, groaning slightly at the aches all over his body that seemed to wake also. He stood up, gingerly testing his sore legs, and padded barefoot into the main room.
Feeling rather hungry, he glanced around but saw no sign of anything to cook with, nor did he see any sign of Professor Snape. He shrugged and thought briefly of going to the kitchens, but cast the idea aside. Instead, he went back into the bedroom and grabbed one of the Defense books that he had gotten the previous Christmas. Curled in a corner of the couch back in front of the fireplace, Harry ran his hands over the leather cover and thought of who he had received the book from. With a deep, slow sigh, he opened the book and began to read about defensive tactics.
Some time later, he was distracted from his reading by a dry chuckle. "Harry Potter, reading a book during the summer? Surely I am hallucinating."
Harry threw him a glare but set the book down, carefully marking his page.
"Have you had anything to eat?"
Harry shook his head.
"Why not?"
"I wasn't exactly sure where to get anything to eat."
"Foolish boy. You should have woken me up."
Harry cringed slightly at the man's scolding tone, but it sounded nothing like his Uncle Vernon's slurred, drunken insults. "I thought you might like to get some sleep."
He sighed. "I was tired, but, though neither of us may like it, I am your guardian. You should come..."-- he sounded as though the words coming out of his mouth were dearly costing his pride—"come to me...if there's anything...you need."
Harry shrugged, trying not to look amused.
"Well...do you want soup or something?"
Harry shrugged. "Sounds great."
"I'll get you something from the kitchens."
While he waited for Snape to return, Harry pondered the change that seemed to have come over the man. It seemed like after the visit in Dumbledore's office, the professor had become, at the very least, much more tolerant of him.
When Professor Snape returned with a tray of steaming soup, Harry thanked him and began fiddling with his spoon. He expected to be told to stop being irritating and just eat, but when he looked over, he saw that Snape was also fiddling with his food, looking thoughtful. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Potter, I think it is time we resume your Occlumency lessons."
Harry dropped his spoon. He hadn't been expecting the lessons to start so soon, but he supposed it was for the best. He nodded slowly.
"This afternoon, my office."
"Yes, sir."
Snape sighed, and Harry wondered if he also was feeling apprehensive. However, Harry's thoughts quickly shifted. "Sir...d'you...d'you think I might be able to go flying this morning? Just for awhile?"
He sighed and muttered, "I swear, it must be genetic, this Quidditch obsession."
"Well, I haven't been able to fly since last year," said Harry defensively.
"You punched another student in the face, if I remember correctly. Did you expect a reward of some sort?"
Harry began to feel angry. "You didn't hear what he said. He was going on about my mum." The air around him seemed to fill with a strange buzzing.
Snape seemed to notice this and said slowly, "Calm down, Potter."
Harry took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes until the buzzing stopped.
"Better. And the Quidditch is Dumbledore's decision. It makes no difference to me."
It wasn't until after Snape had left that Harry realized he had just had a full-length, civil conversation with the man.
Half an hour later, Harry walked outside with his beloved Firebolt clutched in his hands. Dumbledore had somehow managed to get it back, and had given it to Harry when he asked to play go flying, on the condition he was very, very careful. Harry had grinned and felt, for perhaps the first time since the previous spring, truly happy. He now had an ecstatic grin on his face.
Once he reached the pitch, which took a rather longer time then normal, he carefully mounted his broom and took off. As he left the ground behind him, he also left behind the lingering aches and pains from the previous month. A light breeze fluttered against his face, and the wind rushed in his ears. He felt the familiar euphoric sensation that he had only ever gotten from flying.
He flew in circles around the pitch, slowly accelerating until he was going so fast that everything else appeared a blur. He looped and dove, letting out a joyous whoop for no reason at all. He circled higher and higher, until he was so high that looking down made him dizzy. Then he pulled into a spectacular dive, going almost straight down as the blood pounded in his ears. He pulled out of the dive very late, flying so low that his toes skimmed the grass.
After he had flown until he was sure he would fall off his broom from exhaustion, he made his way back up to the castle, feeling better than he had in some time.
Severus tried to spend some time making potions but he couldn't concentrate. As hard as he tried to ignore it, he had begun to see Potter in a whole new light, especially after hearing him recount the dream the day before. In the end, he found himself unable to concentrate and decided to go out for some fresh air, away from the heavy damp fumes of the dungeons.
Out on the grounds, he noted the figure flying very high above the Quidditch stands. Of course one would leave it to Potter to show off. All the same, he stood unnoticed at the edge of the pitch and watched him fly.
On the occasion the boy passed close enough for Snape to see his face, there was a carefree expression of pure ecstasy. Severus watched in slight amusement as Harry looped higher and higher, letting out a shout of joy.
Suddenly, Potter took a sharp dive, traveling towards the earth at an amazing rate of speed. Surely-surely he wasn't trying to kill himself? His heart hammered, and he almost laughed with relief when he finally pulled out of the dive. Deciding he had seen enough, he made a quiet exit before Potter could see him and realize just how impressed he was with the boy's flying.
A/N: Yeah, it's a pretty crappy ending for a chapter, but I was super eager to get this chapter out after the twelve or so years that I put off posting. I really am sorry! By the way, a cookie goes to whoever can tell me what language the password is in and what it means...
Disclaimer: Sooo not mine. If it were, I would be rich enough to hire somebody to do my homework for me.
A/N: Okay, I am sure that after that lengthy delay, many of you are ready to attack me. However, I beg of you the throw your pitchforks and other pointy objects aside until I have explained myself. :::casts nervous glance at readers::: I really DO have an excuse! So, my disk with ALL of my fanfiction was unfortunately destroyed....good-bye half done chapter ten, eh? I needed to get on to ff.net to see where I ended chapter nine so I could rewrite my beginning of chapter ten. However, I have had a monstrous amount of homework lately, and I was playing tennis and I had a play and all this band stuff was going on..., and my weekly guitar and choir. Plus I'm lazy. So, given all those conditions, I haven't made bad time....(ducks as various rotten fruits are thrown at her) A carrot? What the hll? WHO THROWS A CARROT? Anyway... I have decided that this story needs an overhaul...which will be hard without the disk, but it's worth it. And...I got grounded from the computer for a week. So PLEASE forgive the not-so- often updates!
On another note: I have decided to chuck out the review responses- they simply take up to much time/space. Thank you to all who are reviewing! If you have a specific question or something, email me.
I think you've waited long enough....who's ready for Chapter Ten? (raises hand) ME!
Harry was still shaking from the dream. Lead seemed to be pooling in his stomach, and lifting his feet became nearly impossible. When the spiral staircase began to move, he simply stood gaping at it.
Snape, who he had forgotten was there at all, grabbed his arm impatiently and pulled him forward. The touch was unexpected and Harry closed his eyes tightly, begging himself not to panic. He began to tremble and took deep, shaking breaths. He remained still for several moments, and it was only when Snape's biting voice reached his ears that he realized the staircase had stopped moving.
"Are you going to actually speak with the headmaster or would you prefer to stand there admiring his door? Honestly, I knew idiocy was hereditary, but yours seems to outstrip even your father's."
Harry fixed a quivering gaze on him, an angry pounding in his ears. "He's dead. Can you just let it be? Personally, I think it's rather pathetic that you still hold a grudge against a dead man." Harry turned away to go into Dumbledore's office, but Snape grabbed his arm—hard.
"Summer or not, I am still a professor at this school and will be treated with respect."
For a moment, Harry had to remind himself that he was at Hogwarts and would never have to worry about being beaten by an adult. Working furiously to stay calm, he tore his arm away from the Professor's grip. "Don't touch me. Ever." There was an angry glint in Snape's eyes, but slowly lowered his hand. He swiftly walked around Harry into Dumbledore's office. The teen followed in his wake, knowing that he was angering the already volatile Potions Master.
The ancient-looking Headmaster appeared a few minutes later, striding out of a side door.
"Ah, Severus, Harry. What can I do for you?"
Snape spoke up first. "Potter says he had a dream-"
"Vision." Harry cut in shortly.
The professor sneered. "Vision...and insisted that he speak to you about it."
"Severus, I asked Harry to come to me if he had any more of these dreams."
Snape was clearly unimpressed, but made no further remarks.
"What happened, Harry?" asked the Headmaster, turning all of his attention back to the shivering teenager in front of him.
"Well..." Harry began, suddenly feeling very foolish, "I came back from the library to Sn...Professor Snape's quarters, but I didn't know the password so I sat down to wait...and, well, I guess I got really dizzy. I suppose I sort of passed out...so I hadn't been able to clear my mind." He said all of this very quietly.
"Then what?" prompted Dumbledore gently.
Harry opened his mouth, ready to describe the fresh wave of horror he had witnessed, but he could not force a sound out of his throat.
"Is there somewhere else you would be more comfortable?" asked the aging wizard.
Harry shook his head briefly, pretending he hadn't heard the impatient snort that had come from the direction of his Potions Master.
"No," he croaked out, "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."
Dumbledore nodded and conjured Harry a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "Much better than tea after a bad nightmare," he said, matter-of-factly.
Harry smiled gratefully and took a sip of the chocolate, stalling the moment when he would have to think about the dream. Finally, he began to recount the dream.
The Dark Lord stood in the middle of a much emptier circle. The gaps of missing followers had widened after several of his most trusted Death Eaters had been taken to Azkaban.
"My loyal followers..." he began, smiling a cruel, self-satisfied smile despite the missing numbers. "There are pitifully few of you left, are there not? Of course, that blithering idiot Fudge finally listened to Albus Dumbledore, though his blindness did give us some time. However, there are now Aurors instead of dementors guarding Azkaban, so it seems unlikely that we will be able to get them out as easily as last time."
Voldemort paused to draw a deep breath, causing a collective shudder from the various people around the clearing.
"I admit, I underestimated them last time. Not just Harry Potter, but the children with him as well. It seems they have been training without the help of that woman, Delores Umbridge. This year, however, we will be able to plant a spy of sorts in Hogwarts. Even the great Albus Dumbledore will not be able to detect them."
At this point, Voldemort seemed to feel he had said enough about his plan and instead turned to the remaining Death Eaters, one at a time.
"Bellatrix," he said in a mocking voice, "You failed to retrieve the Prophecy. I am very disappointed. You would already be dead were you not so valuable. Crucio!"
One of the hooded figures dropped, writhing but not screaming. After what seemed like a terribly long time, Riddle released her from the curse.
The pupil-less red eyes stared around in satisfaction, past the assembled Dark wizards. "Harry Potter," he whispered in a low, menacing voice, "no doubt you have seen this. So I leave it up to you...is it merely a dream? Another false vision? Or is it real this time? Your cause can hardly withstand more failure. Do you miss your godfather, Potter? Wouldn't you hate it if the Mudblood or the Weasley fool to meet his same fate?"
Harry explained the dream in full detail to the two professors, except for the part where hearing Voldemort's foul tongue speak about Sirius had made him feel as though his heart was being ripped in two, and had caused his scar to sear with an angry burst of agony.
Dumbledore considered this carefully. "And you are still feeling it when Tom performs the Cruciatus on other people?"
Harry nodded, looking down.
"Then I highly doubt this was just a regular nightmare. Severus, do you have a basic pain relief potion in supply?"
Snape nodded, his sneer looking a little more forced than it had when he had accompanied Harry into the room.
"Well then, Harry, why don't you go back to the rooms and have a bit of a lie-down? Be sure to clear your mind first, of course."
Harry, who could scarcely keep his eyes open any longer, was more than happy to accept the suggestion. He pulled himself to his feet, nearly falling over in the process, and tottered in a trance-like state out of the room.
"How long do you suppose it will be before he realizes he still doesn't know the password?" Albus's voice was laced with faint amusement as he spoke to Severus.
Professor Snape, on the other hand, was much too perplexed to humor the man. Potter had him thoroughly confused, and if there was one thing the Potions Master hated more than being confused, it was being confused by a Gryffindor.
A few seconds later Harry walked slowly back into the room, his face flushing with a dull sort of embarrassment. "Uh, sir?" he almost whispered, looking at his feet, "I still don't know the password..."
"What?" Severus was, for once, caught off guard. "Oh, it's Gummiente..."
"Thank you, sir." It wasn't until Potter had left the room that he realized he had been civil to the boy without even trying.
"See how different he is when he's not with his friends, Severus?"
"You mean respectful?"
"No. I mean withdrawn and frightened." Albus gave him one of those infuriating gazes. "You see it too, don't you? That's not normal behavior for a fifteen—almost sixteen—year-old. Do try to get him to lighten up, won't you?"
"You want me to get someone else to ...cheer up, Albus? Do you realize to whom you are speaking, or have you started going senile?"
The headmaster just shook his head. "Believe it or not, you can be quite the entertainer when you want to be."
Snape snorted. "Yes. Well, since I'm here, I thought you would like to know I'm going to be starting up the boy's Occlumency lessons again, tomorrow, if possible."
Dumbledore's gaze became stony. "That's quite soon."
"The sooner he can defend his mind against penetration, the better."
"Are you certain?"
"You want me to teach him, so I'd prefer that you would trust my judgement."
"Very well. Prepare yourself, then. I doubt you will see much of anything pleasant."
"I thought he used the Pensieve."
"I think he did, but that doesn't mean he rid himself of all of his most unpleasant memories."
"Albus, you do realize he will need to start putting those memories back into his mind as he progresses at Occlumency?"
"Yes, yes, I know, but I thought it best to give him some relief, if only for awhile."
It took Harry a rather long time to make his way down to Snape's rooms. When he made it, he exhaustedly whispered the password and clambered into the portrait hole. He didn't feel as though he would be able to properly empty his mind, and he was terrified of having more visions, so he fought off the need for sleep. Instead, shivering, he wrapped himself in the comforter from his bed and sat in front of the professor's ever-roaring fire. It was there that Professor Snape found him nearly forty-five minutes later.
"Potter?"
"Hmm?" Harry could hear that his own voice was laced with exhaustion.
"Why didn't you go too sleep?"
"Too tired...couldn't clear my mind...don't want to have another vision...give Voldemort more information..."
"What did I tell you last year about using the Dark Lord's name?"
"Sorry P'fessor Snape...P'fessor Dumbledore told me to...first year..." Harry couldn't get his heavy tongue to make the right words.
"Oh, this is ridiculous. Hold on, I'll get you a mild wakefulness potion."
Harry continued gazing at the fire, willing himself to stay awake. He heard footsteps walking away and then returning.
"Here." A vial was thrust roughly into his hands.
Harry popped the cork off the vial and downed its contents quickly. He instantly felt a wakefulness comparable to a caffeine jolt surge through him.
"Thank you..." he said, feeling the uncontrollable urge to twitch.
"It will wear off in ten to fifteen minutes, and I want you to concentrate very hard on clearing your mind. I am going to help you."
"Professor..."
"What it is it, Potter?"
"I just wanted to thank you, sir, for helping me...I know it's been risky for you...and...I...well...I sort of...err..."
"I know speech is difficult for you, but if you try very hard, I think you'll manage."
"I wanted to apologize, sir, for looking into your Pensieve. And for what my father did. It was wrong, and I can see why you hated him for it." Harry spoke the last couple of sentences to his feet, unwilling to look Snape in the eye. For several minutes, the older man did not speak, and Harry feared he had said something to enrage him. When he looked up, however, the professor merely looked thoughtful.
"Thank you. I never got a sincere apology from James, not once. That took courage...not just that Gryffindor waffle you lot are always going on about, either."
Harry looked at him for a minute. Something about Snape's expression was familiar, but it was certainly not a look he was accustomed to seeing on this particular man's face. He realized that Professor Severus Snape, the most frightening Potions Master Hogwarts had ever seen, the professor who made the occasional first year wet their pants, had just accepted his apology. And, even more astounding, he had shown humor...humor that was not a biting remark directed at Harry.
"Er...thank you...for accepting my apology." He hoped he didn't look too shocked.
Snape gave a brief nod but quickly became businesslike. "Alright. Now quickly, before the potion wears off, you need to concentrate on clearing you mind."
Harry sat and focused on making his mind blank. As always, he found himself preoccupied and struggling.
"Come on, Potter, you can do it." Professor Snape seemed to sense he was having problems.
"I'm trying...it's not working."
"You need to concentrate. Is there a place that you can visualize that can help you find tranquility?"
Harry pictured the lake, but that only reminded him of Sirius. A sharp pain reverberated through his head, and he gasped. "I don't have a place like that."
"Start again. Start emptying your mind again. This time, try to visualize blackness. Close your eyes."
Harry did as he was told, focusing only on the silence of his mind. He concentrated until he thought his head would surely burst. He wanted to stop and tell Snape he couldn't do it: his head was throbbing from the sheer concentration it required.
He felt the Professor take his hands. "I'm going to help you. Keep concentrating." He felt warmth coming from the older man and put all of his effort in directing the extra energy to clearing his mind. He finally felt a sort of shift beginning to occur in his mind, as though all of his previous thoughts and memories were being shifted aside, leaving behind a sort of blissful awareness—similar to the state he often fell into during one of Binns's long lectures during History of Magic.
"Did it work?" Snape's voice sounded almost anxious.
Harry opened his eyes. "Yes," he said, feeling detached.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You successfully performed Occlumency. Now get some rest."
He gratefully stood up, already feeling the effects of wakefulness potion ebbing away. Wobbling into the bedroom that the professor had shown him earlier, he sank unceremoniously onto the still made bed.
Severus thoughtfully watched the boy stumble out of the room. Certainly, the last thing he had expected from Potter was an apology, and a sincere one at that. It definitely wasn't something James would've done. Of course, Harry had admitted to being unimpressed by the memory he had seen...Perhaps the boy wasn't so much like his father after all.
Snape took a moment to consider the boy's O.W.L. scores. Though he didn't know it, Harry had somehow managed to receive an "Outstanding" grade on his Potions exam, earning him the right to be in his N.E.W.T. preparatory class. He was half impressed, half frustrated. Clearly, he had potential that he wasn't working up to. Severus wondered if he could benefit from some tutoring, because the N.E.W.T class was going to require much more effort than he had put forth previously. He began thinking of potions that he could have him brew to for practice. Between that and Occlumency, the boy might be too busy to bother him.
He suddenly gave a huge yawn and stretched. He hadn't realized how tired he was while he was helping Potter, but now that he was sitting still, he could hardly keep his eyes open. He decided to go to his own room and get some much needed rest. As always, he thoroughly cleared his mind before going to sleep.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting in Ron's bedroom. Out of pure boredom, they had reverted to an old game that Hermione had taught them: "Would you Rather?"
"Your turn, Hermione," said Ginny fruitlessly, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread.
"Oh, I don't know...I'm not very good at these...Ron, you do it."
"Okay...would you rather...be stuck in the dungeons with Filch for three hours...or have a forty-five minute class with Snape in his foulest mood?" He grinned.
Ginny answered promptly, "Filch," but Hermione frowned disapprovingly.
"Ron," she scolded, "now that Professor Snape is...Harry's guardian for the summer, maybe you could try to be a little more respectful."
Ron scoffed, but a voice from the doorway said, "You have always been the most reasonable teenager I know, Hermione."
"Professor Lupin!" she gasped, turning around. You startled me."
"Yes, well, you know what Moody says, 'Constant Vigilance'. And it's Remus, Hermione."
Ginny jumped into the conversation quickly. "Profe—Remus, that is, any news on Harry?"
He shook his head with a faint sad smile. "None yet. I'm sure you'll be able to see him soon. There are just some things he needs to...cope with...first."
His expression turned thoughtful and he walked away quite suddenly.
"Why does he always walk off like that?" asked Ron.
Hermione sighed. "Because, Ron, he is obviously affected by Sirius' death just as much as Harry. James and Lily died, and he thought that Wormtail was dead and Sirius had betrayed them. Then, after being isolated from them for twelve years, his ex-best friend escapes from jail and he learns he's innocent. Then he learned Wormtail, who he had been mourning, was actually alive and the real traitor. Just about two years after he is reunited with his best friend, that best friend dies. Obviously, he's quite upset by Sirius dying. At the same time, he feels very guilty because he believed Sirius was a murderer for twelve years. And he's wondering if there's something wrong with him that causes his best friends to die. Not to mention he's no doubt feeling very lonely, and wants to help Harry but doesn't know how." She said this as though it were obvious, Ginny nodding in agreement.
Ron stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, before finally saying, "Can all girls do that or is it just you?"
Ginny said, "Well, a lot of that is really quite obvious. Hermione just has a way of putting it into words better." She smiled. "It's not so much that girls are good at it as much as guys are absolutely hopeless at it."
Hermione laughed.
Ron frowned. "Girls..."
The next morning, Harry woke feeling more well-rested than he had the entire summer. Yawning, he stretched, groaning slightly at the aches all over his body that seemed to wake also. He stood up, gingerly testing his sore legs, and padded barefoot into the main room.
Feeling rather hungry, he glanced around but saw no sign of anything to cook with, nor did he see any sign of Professor Snape. He shrugged and thought briefly of going to the kitchens, but cast the idea aside. Instead, he went back into the bedroom and grabbed one of the Defense books that he had gotten the previous Christmas. Curled in a corner of the couch back in front of the fireplace, Harry ran his hands over the leather cover and thought of who he had received the book from. With a deep, slow sigh, he opened the book and began to read about defensive tactics.
Some time later, he was distracted from his reading by a dry chuckle. "Harry Potter, reading a book during the summer? Surely I am hallucinating."
Harry threw him a glare but set the book down, carefully marking his page.
"Have you had anything to eat?"
Harry shook his head.
"Why not?"
"I wasn't exactly sure where to get anything to eat."
"Foolish boy. You should have woken me up."
Harry cringed slightly at the man's scolding tone, but it sounded nothing like his Uncle Vernon's slurred, drunken insults. "I thought you might like to get some sleep."
He sighed. "I was tired, but, though neither of us may like it, I am your guardian. You should come..."-- he sounded as though the words coming out of his mouth were dearly costing his pride—"come to me...if there's anything...you need."
Harry shrugged, trying not to look amused.
"Well...do you want soup or something?"
Harry shrugged. "Sounds great."
"I'll get you something from the kitchens."
While he waited for Snape to return, Harry pondered the change that seemed to have come over the man. It seemed like after the visit in Dumbledore's office, the professor had become, at the very least, much more tolerant of him.
When Professor Snape returned with a tray of steaming soup, Harry thanked him and began fiddling with his spoon. He expected to be told to stop being irritating and just eat, but when he looked over, he saw that Snape was also fiddling with his food, looking thoughtful. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Potter, I think it is time we resume your Occlumency lessons."
Harry dropped his spoon. He hadn't been expecting the lessons to start so soon, but he supposed it was for the best. He nodded slowly.
"This afternoon, my office."
"Yes, sir."
Snape sighed, and Harry wondered if he also was feeling apprehensive. However, Harry's thoughts quickly shifted. "Sir...d'you...d'you think I might be able to go flying this morning? Just for awhile?"
He sighed and muttered, "I swear, it must be genetic, this Quidditch obsession."
"Well, I haven't been able to fly since last year," said Harry defensively.
"You punched another student in the face, if I remember correctly. Did you expect a reward of some sort?"
Harry began to feel angry. "You didn't hear what he said. He was going on about my mum." The air around him seemed to fill with a strange buzzing.
Snape seemed to notice this and said slowly, "Calm down, Potter."
Harry took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes until the buzzing stopped.
"Better. And the Quidditch is Dumbledore's decision. It makes no difference to me."
It wasn't until after Snape had left that Harry realized he had just had a full-length, civil conversation with the man.
Half an hour later, Harry walked outside with his beloved Firebolt clutched in his hands. Dumbledore had somehow managed to get it back, and had given it to Harry when he asked to play go flying, on the condition he was very, very careful. Harry had grinned and felt, for perhaps the first time since the previous spring, truly happy. He now had an ecstatic grin on his face.
Once he reached the pitch, which took a rather longer time then normal, he carefully mounted his broom and took off. As he left the ground behind him, he also left behind the lingering aches and pains from the previous month. A light breeze fluttered against his face, and the wind rushed in his ears. He felt the familiar euphoric sensation that he had only ever gotten from flying.
He flew in circles around the pitch, slowly accelerating until he was going so fast that everything else appeared a blur. He looped and dove, letting out a joyous whoop for no reason at all. He circled higher and higher, until he was so high that looking down made him dizzy. Then he pulled into a spectacular dive, going almost straight down as the blood pounded in his ears. He pulled out of the dive very late, flying so low that his toes skimmed the grass.
After he had flown until he was sure he would fall off his broom from exhaustion, he made his way back up to the castle, feeling better than he had in some time.
Severus tried to spend some time making potions but he couldn't concentrate. As hard as he tried to ignore it, he had begun to see Potter in a whole new light, especially after hearing him recount the dream the day before. In the end, he found himself unable to concentrate and decided to go out for some fresh air, away from the heavy damp fumes of the dungeons.
Out on the grounds, he noted the figure flying very high above the Quidditch stands. Of course one would leave it to Potter to show off. All the same, he stood unnoticed at the edge of the pitch and watched him fly.
On the occasion the boy passed close enough for Snape to see his face, there was a carefree expression of pure ecstasy. Severus watched in slight amusement as Harry looped higher and higher, letting out a shout of joy.
Suddenly, Potter took a sharp dive, traveling towards the earth at an amazing rate of speed. Surely-surely he wasn't trying to kill himself? His heart hammered, and he almost laughed with relief when he finally pulled out of the dive. Deciding he had seen enough, he made a quiet exit before Potter could see him and realize just how impressed he was with the boy's flying.
A/N: Yeah, it's a pretty crappy ending for a chapter, but I was super eager to get this chapter out after the twelve or so years that I put off posting. I really am sorry! By the way, a cookie goes to whoever can tell me what language the password is in and what it means...