What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is
Disclaimer All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.
Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!
A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Liat1989, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, ancient-memories, and Lou. McGonagall! You guys are the reason I keep writing! Also I apologize for the wait between chapters. I actually wrote from the middle to the end first. I guess that is how inspiration works sometimes. Eventually the updates will come much quicker. Also, I hope you will forgive the slow pace of the opening chapters, there is a lot to set up! But the story will become more intense in future installments. Thanks again!
Chapter Three: The Snake and the Phoenix
The next morning would bring the start of classes. At breakfast Professor McGonagall walked up and down the long house table distributing class schedules. Harry scanned quickly over his list to determine what was in store for him that day. It was a good day in which to start the term. Harry had three classes on Mondays. Herbology and Charms in the morning and Transfiguration after lunch. However, as Harry continued to peruse his schedule he found an entry that he did not expect.
"What's the matter Harry?" Hermione asked after taking note of the look on his face.
"I have a new class this term," Harry gulped.
"Wha' are u talkig abou'?" Ron forced out through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. "Sith yers don hab new classes." Hermione shot Ron a scathing glare as if to tell him how rude he was, but Ron had experienced this look enough times that he no longer took notice of it.
"Apparently, I do," Harry replied.
"What is it?" Ron asked having finally swallowed.
"Occlumency."
"Occlumency?" Ron and Hermione gasped together. Harry nodded. "You have to have two classes with that git, Snape?" Ron continued alone. "That's just wrong."
"Snape's not teaching it," Harry informed them.
"Who is?" Hermione inquired looking concerned.
"Dumbledore."
Ron and Hermione had taken this bit of news really well. Apparently they felt that a class with Dumbledore was something to look forward to, however, Harry was deeply dreading it. He still felt bitter toward the man. How is it that one year Dumbledore would not so much as look at him and the next he would be teaching Harry privately? More than this, Harry was resentful because Dumbledore had lied to him. Though the professor had never spoken outright untruths, in Harry's mind, lies by omission were lies nonetheless. Dumbledore had been strong in his conviction that he was trying to keep Harry happy as long as possible, but could he not understand that now that Harry knew the truth he was all that more miserable? Yet, despite all the anger that dwelled within Harry's heart, he did not hate Professor Dumbledore. He knew that he never could.
Hatred was a lot more difficult to keep at bay with others inside the castle, however. It would be the first NEWT Potions class that would confirm this. Harry could already feel the loathing building in his chest as he, Ron, and Hermione descended the steps to Snape's dungeons. As Snape only took on those students who had received Outstanding grades on the Ordinary Wizarding Level, so few was the number of accepted students that all houses would be represented in this single class. When the door to the dungeon opened, the students reluctantly began to file inside. Harry suspected that many, like he and Ron, were only continuing in the subject because their future ambitions required them to do so. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their usual seat at the back of the room. They had done this for the past five years and Harry saw no reason to stop now if he could help it.
Snape was standing behind a lectern surveying the class with what could be described as nothing short of disgust. His eyes, as always, lingered upon Harry for an extra few seconds before continuing their scrutiny. Snape's demeanor made it unnecessary for him to ever try and quiet a class, that was a given.
"Some of you," Professor Snape sneered, "have decided to continue on in the refined art that is potion-making because you have a true aptitude for it." He paused to look around the room and his eyes delayed momentarily on Draco Malfoy. "And some of you," Snape recommenced with his gaze piercing Harry, "are here by mere chance, luck, or formalities."
Harry could feel his face grow hot with rage. Snape had for five years used his power as a professor to torment or harass him. Often times Harry knew it was in an effort to provoke a reaction from him. It is what he had done to Sirius all those months ago at Grimmauld Place. Maybe Sirius would not have felt so pressured to go to the Ministry of Magic. Harry knew he would never forgive Snape for that. How Harry kept himself in check he did not know. Whether it was Hermione's grasping his arm under the table as if to restrain him, or his mind numbing with anger, Harry remained in control. Deep inside Harry knew that Sirius would have gone to Harry with or without Snape's belittlement. Harry was his godson, Sirius would die for him...and he had.
Snape began to sweep around the classroom imperiously. "Today we shall begin work on a very complex potion. No doubt some of you will fail at brewing it extravagantly," Snape snarled once again glaring at Harry.
Just follow the directions, Harry thought. Ignore him. Ignore him. You can do it. With a flick of his wand Snape had revealed instructions on the blackboard for a very complex looking potion indeed. As Harry scanned the ingredients he would need, something stirred in his memory. Two of the listed ingredients were asphodel and wormwood. Harry's brain shot back to his first ever Potions class.
Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?
"Does anyone know what this potion is?" Professor Snape asked with a suspiciously malignant grin on his face. As always, Hermione's hand shot into the air, though no one else's did. Harry was not at all surprised when... "Potter! Can you tell me what would be created by following these instructions?" Ron was looking at Harry nervously, but inwardly Harry could hardly contain his glee. Here was Snape trying once again to entrap and make a fool of him. Harry was thankful he had a good memory.
"The Draught of Living Death, Sir," Harry explained trying not to smile. "It is a sleeping potion so powerful that one who has consumed it appears to be dead." Snape's face slipped from smug satisfaction to bewilderment to pallid and angry. "Professor, you told us about it on our first potions class, remember?" Harry added sweetly. Ron was looking intently at the ceiling. Harry could tell he was doing his best not to break down laughing.
Snape darted back to the front of the classroom with a whirl of his cloak. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "We will be testing your potions at the end of class. If concocted correctly you will fall into a deep, yet peaceful sleep. If not, well, let's just say there could be any number of "
Harry set about working on the potion. Snape had not lied in the slightest. It was very difficult, but in his thirst to outdo Snape once more Harry was more focused on his cauldron than he had ever been. Harry was pleasantly surprised that upon completion his potion was a thick, deep purple, exactly as the instructions stated. He corked a sample and awaited the rest of the class to finish. To his left, Hermione was just finishing up and her potion was the same shade of purple. To his right, Ron was looking worried. His potion, though not sparking and spitting like Malfoy's, was not quite the right color. Though he had managed a dark lavender.
With ten minutes to go, Snape announced to the class that they should all cork a sample, "No matter how it looks." He added sinisterly. Professor Snape pulled a vial from the pocket of his robes. "This is the antidote to the draught you should have prepared," Snape explained. "If you were successful, only one drop will revive you. If not you may find yourself at the mercy of Madame Pomfrey." At this Snape peered around at the multitude of nervous faces. "Bones!" Snape yelled as Susan Bones, the Hufflepuff jumped in her seat. Upon his command Susan drank her potion and immediately sank her head to the table. She had fallen asleep. So much was the evident strength of her brew that she did indeed appear dead. The class applauded. Snape looked disappointed. He tilted back Susan's head, and using an eye-dropper, placed the antidote in her mouth.
In turn, students drank their potions having become more confident by Susan's success. Of course not all students were quite as lucky. Though the consequences were not as dire as Snape had made them out to be. Ernie MacMillan, also a Hufflepuff, fell asleep but when he snored he made meowing noises. This caused a great amount of laughter which only further infuriated Snape.
"Malfoy!" Snape snapped, perhaps more harshly than he normally would have done with his favorite student. Malfoy looked positively terrified. His potion was no longer sparking, but there was nothing thick or purple about it. Rather it seemed green and runny. Malfoy hesitantly swallowed. At first nothing happened. Harry assumed that Malfoy had made a complete dud. But soon Malfoy reached up to his mouth to sputter and gag. Harry could see painful red boils begin to sprout from the backs of his hands. The boils quickly spread, and soon every visible inch of Malfoy was covered in blisters.
"Someone get him to the hospital wing," Snape spat with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Milicent Bulstrode quickly raced to Malfoy and ushered him from the dungeon.
"No wonder she volunteered so quickly," Ron whispered in Harry's ear nudging his ribs. "Look at her cauldron." Harry barely suppressed a grin when he saw that Milicent's cauldron also contained a runny, green liquid.
"Well, Potter," Snape sneered curling his lip, "ready to tempt your fate?"
"Of course," Harry replied calmly. For once Harry had complete confidence in his potion-making abilities. Hermione's had turned out perfectly and Harry's so closely resembled hers the difference was indistinguishable. Harry swallowed his potion and blackness immediately overtook him. The next thing he knew he was staring into the livid face of Severus Snape. Harry quickly sat up.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," jeered Snape.
"What!" Ron cried indignantly. "What on earth for?"
"Mr. Potter here," he said almost impatiently, "obviously cheated and corked a sample from Miss Granger's cauldron."
"That's a lie!" Harry yelled. "I have a whole cauldron full, that I brewed in my cauldron!"
"I see nothing in your cauldron, Potter," simpered Snape. Harry wheeled around and noticed that his cauldron was quite empty. Immediately Harry realized what Snape must have done. Harry began to shake with white-hot fury. All the self-control Harry had exercised at the start of the lesson was now completely non-existent. Harry glanced around at all the sympathetic faces before finally exploding.
"YOU VANISHED MY POTION!" Harry fumed. "JUST WHAT I'D EXPECT FROM THE BLOODY DEATH EATER THAT YOU ARE!
Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as the class gasped in collective shock. Professor Snape strode purposefully across the room. Harry did not even raise his hands to protect himself as a rough hand seized him by the throat. Snape dragged Harry backwards toward the fireplace. Harry could hear members of the class shouting through his gasps for air. Beside him, Snape was rummaging for something on top of the mantle. An eruption of emerald flames behind him told Harry that Snape had just initiated the Floo network. Snape dragged Harry inside, still clutching his throat. "McGONAGALL'S OFFICE!" he yelled. With a surge of green flame they had left the dungeons behind.
"Severus!" Harry heard Professor McGonagall exclaim. "Severus what are you doing? Release him at once!" But Snape did not let go, on the contrary, his grip tightened mercilessly completely shutting off Harry's airway.
"YOUR STUDENTS ARE OUT OF CONTROL MINERVA!" Snape spat angrily. "HE CALLED ME A DEATH EATER IN FRONT OF THE CLASS!" Harry began to thrash about violently. His sight was darkening due to lack of oxygen. Would McGonagall not help him? Harry felt two hands encircling him to support his weight.
"Severus, please," her voice pleaded. "He can't breathe." At that Harry could feel the clamp on his throat lessen and he fell to the floor in McGonagall's arms as Snape finally released him. Harry sputtered and gasped for air. He looked up in time to see Snape a glow in green flames inside McGonagall's fireplace.
"He will not return to my class ever again," seethed Snape. "Mark my words." Then he was gone.
Harry could hardly believe what had just occurred. He was lying on the floor. Professor McGonagall was peering at him with a look of the utmost distress. Though he was no longer being choked, Harry still felt as though he could not take in enough air. Every breath was long and forced. It rattled around in his chest. Harry began to panic, his eyes pleading with McGonagall to help him. He could see her lips moving, but the buzzing that had developed in his ears was drowning out her words. A sensation was beginning to overwhelm him, and as though he had once again ingested the Draught of Living Death, blackness overtook him and he knew no more.
"Harry?"
Who was speaking to him? Couldn't they see he was sleeping?
"Harry?" the voice said again. A fire suddenly lit in his brain and his eyes flew open. There was Albus Dumbledore, mere inches from his nose. His image was intensely blurry and Harry realized he was not wearing his glasses.
"My glasses," Harry croaked in a soft whisper. His voice was raspy and dry. Dumbledore reached onto Harry's bedside table retrieving the spectacles.
"Here you are," he said calmly, the twinkle absent from his eyes. As Harry began to cough, Dumbledore poured a glass of water from Harry's jug. "Drink this," he ordered. The water had a wonderfully soothing effect. Neither spoke for some time, but Harry knew why the older man was there. "Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, "did you really call Professor Snape a Death Eater in front of the class?"
"Yes," Harry said defiantly. He did not care what Dumbledore thought. Snape deserved it.
"Harry, Severus Snape is not a Death Eater," Dumbledore replied quietly. "Angry and bitter? Yes, but most certainly not a Death Eater."
"And just how do you know?" wheezed Harry accusingly. For the first time since Harry was introduced to the Headmaster he was fixed with a warning glare.
"I trust him. That is how I know," Dumbledore declared with an air of finality.
"You trust Snape, but you don't trust me," Harry accused. Dumbledore leaned away from Harry. He had clearly been stunned by Harry's allegation. "Why?"
"I do trust you, Harry," said Dumbledore hurtfully.
"You say you do, but your actions tell me differently!" Harry yelled as loud as his damaged voice would allow. "You say you trust me, but you wouldn't tell me about the prophecy until it was too late! You say you trust me, but you let Snape carry on with whatever torment he can dream up! You say you trust me, but you know what? I-don't-trust-you!" Harry's body was heaving with emotion. How could Dumbledore keep that infuriatingly calm face?
Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and began to rub the bridge if his crooked nose. "Harry, you have every right to be angry with me, even to hate me. We all walk a fine line. Sometimes that line is so blurred we do not know when we have crossed it." Dumbledore reached out his hand and enveloped Harry's in it. "I do not have all the answers, but let me assure you, Professor Snape is trustworthy." Harry pulled his hand sharply from Dumbledore's. The professor looked deeply affronted, but continued on as though he had not noticed. "Also, Professor Snape will not go without warning for harming a student, make no mistake. I know you understand his value to the Order, but I will never tolerate the abuse of my students. Value or no, any future misdeed will warrant his dismissal." Dumbledore rose from Harry's bed and turned to leave. "I will check on you later," he stated, "and I know your faith in me now is very little, but I promise you, he will not harm you again. I promise."
Harry was released from the hospital wing the next morning. The story of what had occurred down in the dungeons the previous day had already spread through the school like rampant wildfire. Whispers followed Harry everywhere.
"Did he really call Snape a Death Eater?"
"Is Snape a Death Eater?"
"I heard Potter was going to be expelled."
"I guess Snape went ballistic."
Harry ignored the running commentary the best he could, but it was no easy task. Though Harry started to have the impression that he simply voiced what other students had always wanted to. How Dumbledore or McGonagall persuaded Snape to allow Harry to return to potions was a mystery. It may simply have been an ultimatum, but one thing Harry knew for sure was Snape never so much as looked at him during subsequent lessons. This was an amazing improvement in Harry's estimation. It was much better to ignore and be ignored than to have to worry about any eruptions.
On Thursday evening of that first week of term Harry found himself standing outside a familiar gargoyle with dread. Harry had avoided Professor Dumbledore has best he could since that day in the hospital wing, but now that his first Occlumency lesson was upon him, Harry felt a strong urge to run in the opposite direction. As if reading his thoughts, the stone gargoyle jumped aside on its own accord. He couldn't get away now, Dumbledore must have known he was waiting outside. Harry climbed the revolving staircase behind the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office door. Before he could knock, Harry heard a low, strong voice tell him to enter.
Harry pushed open the door and at first Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix sat upon his perch. He trilled happily at Harry which made a warm, comforting sensation flow throughout the young wizard.
"Hello, Fawkes," Harry greeted stroking the bird's plumage. Fawkes closed his eyes dreamily.
"You are one of the few people Fawkes will allow to touch him." Harry whirled about to see Professor Dumbledore exiting a sitting room that was off of the office. "Phoenixes are very intuitive creatures, you know. They only allow those with pure hearts and noble intentions to keep their company. Fawkes must trust you."
Trust.
There was that word again. Harry couldn't help but feel that trust was something far too abstract for him to understand right now. He simply nodded at the professor and took a seat opposite of the Headmaster's desk.
"Well Harry, I suspect you know why you are here," Dumbledore said.
"I'm here to learn Occlumency," Harry replied with a slightly impatient tone. If Dumbledore noticed this, he overlooked it.
"Yes," Dumbledore responded, "but you are here for more than that." The old man smiled slightly at Harry's expression. "It is true that you are here to learn to close your mind from intrusion, but I am also hoping that we may start to prepare you for your most important task in the wizarding world."
"That's right," Harry said sarcastically, "let's make sure the weapon is a well-oiled machine." Harry was tired of feeling like no one really cared for him. Why was he seen as a tool instead of a person.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore whispered, "I do not see you as only a weapon, as a matter of fact I do not see you as a weapon at all." Harry snorted. "Harry, I said I wanted to prepare you for what lies in store for you in the wizarding world, not life." Harry looked up confused. Sensing his confusion, Dumbledore proceeded, "Harry they are not one in the same. There is so much more to life than the tasks laid out before us. We have a much bigger responsibility than that."
"What is it?" Harry implored, his anger ebbing away.
"People," the Headmaster replied. "It is the people around us for whom we should live our lives; our friendships, our families, even our enemies. Harry, I could never really prepare you for life. Life is a choice. I told you once that it is our choices that define who we truly are. So how do we decide how to live it? It is in people that we must rest our faith. Without the relationships we forge our existence would be unbearable. You alone, Harry, can determine who you allow to touch you in your life. It is your choice to make."
Harry sat silently for a moment. He knew Dumbledore was right in what he said. Harry had already known an existence without love and human touch. It was not one he wanted to relive. His time at Privet Drive had not been spent as the Harry he knew at Hogwarts, he had been merely an empty shell. This knowledge did not make how he should live any easier, however. Though alone and forsaken at Privet Drive, at least he had not known the pain of losing the relationships on which he had come to rely. Loneliness may not be truly living, but losing those whom you love was like a part of you dying as well.
"I know that you have suffered loss all your life, my dear boy," Dumbledore spoke with such compassion that Harry could feel a tightening in his chest. "Just remember the emptiness we feel after losing our loved ones can be filled with the memories we choose to hold on to." Harry looked up at the man before him an smiled weakly to indicate that he understood. Dumbledore smiled gently in return. Harry had achieved an understanding with his esteemed professor. Though he did not feel as close to Dumbledore as he once had, Harry would forgive him. That was the choice he chose to make. It was the choice he knew he had to make.