I do not own Harry Potter, as I've said over and over. If you don't believe me, just ask J.K. Rowling, she'll set you straight.
Chapter 25: Scratching Itches
Harry was not at first completely sure if he were asleep or awake. He lay in a hospital bed, which he could tell from the all too frequent trips to receive medical attention. He lay on his stomach, his head cushioned by the pillow and was covered in a soft sheet from the shoulders down. He was wearing pajamas, and he itched. He itched terribly.
He squirmed uncomfortably, longing to scratch, and heard Durry chirp from somewhere in the vicinity of the center of his shoulders. He was completely prepared to rub his itching skin mightily, even before he bothered opening his eyes, when he heard a murmur of voices coming closer to his bed.
He froze, thinking. Often he overheard many an interesting thing when people thought he was still asleep. Deliberately, he relaxed again, just burrowing his face further into his pillow in a sleeping gesture. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his ears open.
"...shocked when I heard him," He recognized the throaty voice of Professor Lanya, "speaking the mother tongue."
"Ah, yes. That would be surprising, seeing as he doesn't know it." He realized it was Dumbledore speaking. "Or, I should say, he didn't."
"But it worries me, very much so." Lanya did sound very worried, close to tears actually. "From what you say, it seems likely..." She trailed off on a choking note.
"I cannot lie to you, Larissa. It does not seem well, there has been no response to our attempts at contact. I have, however, gotten in touch with Charlie Weasley in Romania, and he is heading there with all possible haste." Dumbledore told her gently.
There was a sound of faintly creaking bedsprings, and he figured that the sound meant that one or both of them had taken a seat on the bed adjoining his own.
Harry squeezed his eyes open a slit, and saw that Dumbledore and Lanya had seated themselves side by side. The both looked sober and Lanya seemed very pale. He peered narrowly beyond them and saw that the hall was very dim, in was obviously after nightfall and only a few of the lamps had been lit.
He brought his gaze back, and caught Dumbledore's eyes on him, twinkling faintly. He let out a long sigh, he should have known he wouldn't be able to feign sleep for long around the Headmaster. He opened his eyes with a rueful smile.
"I am glad to see you awake, Harry." Dumbledore said, his eyes still locked on Harry's. Harry felt a peculiar sense of relief, and realized that he had feared he would have the same reaction as he did the last year, when his visions tortured his sleeping and waking moments. He did not hate Dumbledore, even when he was so angry with him that he couldn't see straight. He couldn't think of what to say, so he just nodded.
"How do you feel?" Professor Lanya asked, her voice strange.
"Better, but I itch all over."
"Yes, Madame Pomfrey said that would happen. She will be here in a while, we just wished to speak to you about a few things first." She provided with a sideways glance at Dumbledore. "Will you tell us precisely what you saw?"
Harry gulped and made to turn over so he could prop himself up on his pillows while he talked. He was forestalled by a gentle hand, and looked over to see Dumbledore standing beside his bed, his hand on the boy's arm. "You may wish to stay where you are, Harry. The burns on your back were very severe, and have not yet healed."
Harry's hand crept almost unconsciously to his healing skin. Reminded, the urge to scratch returned full force.
"Ah, we were also informed to advise you not to irritate the healing skin." He added diffidently.
Harry sighed in a long-suffering way. "I'll try not to."
"I'm certain you will." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, what did you see, Harry?" He asked, very gently.
Harry paused, gathering his recollections, his thoughts, and his courage to go through the ordeal again. Another moment it took to reach up and touch Durry's warm fur for reassurance. Finally he began to speak, keeping his voice as steady as he could, and including all the details that he could remember.
He included such things as the color of the curtains, the shape of the room, the stones of the fireplace. He talked about the swarthy fellow in the painting and how Wormtail had silenced him, this occasioning a gasp from Lanya and a grim look from Dumbledore.
The woman he saved for last, finding her the most difficult to talk about. He described her hair, her nightdress, but left out how the blood from her bitten lip had spattered the pale fabric. Then he told of what they said.
At one point, Lanya went so pale that Harry thought she was going to faint outright. "What did she say, again?" She said, her voice little more than a weak whisper.
Harry paused before saying, "Nothing less, Faddey."
"Oh, Merlin." She whispered. "Oh, Merlin."
Harry saw Dumbledore reach over and squeeze her hand. "You must prepare yourself."
"I see that now, I see." She said, closing her eyes and clinging to his hand like a lifeline. "Do continue, Harry." She said at last, her voice slightly stronger.
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded. He went on, going through the rest of the confrontation, keeping his voice as steady as he could. At several points Lanya nodded, or pressed her lips together so that they looked completely bloodless.
When Harry was done, she didn't move for a very long moment. Then she nodded one more time, and stood quietly. "I must have some time to think." She said, her voice wavering only slightly. "Recover quickly, Harry."
She strode away, her footsteps clacking quickly across the stone floor and echoing against the tall ceilings. She opened the door to the hall, paused a moment, allowing a couple of figures that Harry could not quite make out to pass into the room, then exited.
Dumbledore stood and moved to perch on the end of Harry's bed, smiling at him as Harry saw that it was Mitexi and the seldom seen Sarven.
Mitexi clasped his hand carefully, mindful of his injuries, the Sarven followed suit before they both took the seats that Dumbledore and Lanya had abandoned. Texi glanced at Dumbledore before taking out her wand, touching it briefly to her throat before flicking it at one of the unlit lamps near the bed, brightening the area noticeably.
Harry could see that they both look serious, though he noticed that Sarven also looked a bit skittish, glancing over his shoulder at the door every few seconds as though worrying that someone would enter and find him there.
Texi gazed steadily at Harry, as though trying to read the thoughts that passed behind his eyes. It occurred to him that she probably could, but he found it did not bother him too much if so.
Then she looked at Dumbledore, and her voice sounded in Harry's head. "His mind has been elsewhere, but you are already aware of this."
"Indeed, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "It is troubling, but do you feel any resonance that says another mind is here?"
Mitexi stared again at Harry. "No." She said finally. "The only thoughts in Harry's head belong to Harry."
"That is what I found as well, but it is good to have another opinion." Dumbledore agreed. He looked at Harry. "You may have noticed an area on your schedule designated for independent studies. In fact, I am certain you have noticed."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Wednesday evenings," He said thoughtfully. "I wondered what that was intended for." He looked at Mitexi, then back to Dumbledore. "Occlumency?"
"Right on the first try, Harry. Though ostensibly you will be receiving tutoring for Potions, something Professor Snape insisted upon before admitting you without an Outstanding score on your practical." His eyes twinkled. "Or that's the story."
"Why did Snape," Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Harry quickly corrected himself, "Professor Snape, allow me in, then?"
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "You may think that I asked him to, but I did not. Sometimes Professor Snape does things for rather unfathomable reasons."
Sarven made a small coughing noise, and Harry glanced at him to find the young man's face perfectly blank. His deep blue eyes, however, were awash with emotions likely equally as unfathomable as Snape's reasoning.
"So, Texi?" Harry continued, changing back to the original subject.
"Yes," her voice echoed in his mind, "I will be helping you. I, Professor Snape, and, as often as he can," She ducked her head at the Headmaster, "Professor Dumbledore."
Harry made a face at the mention of Snape's name. Texi caught it and guessed at the reason. "I managed to get him to answer a few questions I had about his approach, and it seems more of an offensive than defensive beginning. This is not to say that it is not an ineffective method. But I think, knowing you, Scar," The nickname had a different feel to it, and Harry knew she isolated it to his mind, "it is something you would tend to resist."
Harry hesitated, then nodded reluctantly, acknowledging that it probably was not entirely Snape's fault that the lessons had failed.
"You will find my method different, possibly easier to accept, and it should help prepare your mind for Professor Snape's lessons." She smiled faintly, "I've never had someone with your problem under my tutelage before, and I think, of our combined lessons, his will be more useful. My method is more of a reaching out, his seems to be a barricading in." She fell silent, obviously contemplating this whole scenario with her quick and fine-tuned mind.
"I will do my best," He said finally, meaning it and not doubting her sincerity.
"It is unfortunate that you can't keep your chrono with you until you learn to ward your mind." Sarven chimed in with a glance at Durry.
"Yes, we considered that," Dumbledore commented, "I am afraid that he may be a bit more of a hindrance than a help in Harry's classes." He sighed, "This and the fact that the other students are not allowed to keep their familiars with them, and they would resent it. But after this incident..."
Harry shook his head wearily. "No, Durry is better off in my rooms."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly, but Harry noticed that he looked searchingly at Sarven. He wondered what Dumbledore knew about the young man, and what was turning in his mind during those moments.
Sarven shrugged, unaware of scrutiny, or perhaps simply ignoring it. "Just a thought."
"A good one though, and one that we did consider most carefully." Dumbledore assured him again.
Harry asked Sarven. "How do you find the castle?"
"It's very large." Sarven said, leaning forward and resting elbows on his knees with an amused smile for Harry's clumsy change of subject. "I've not explored it much, but it seems that there are quite a few similarities between the castle and Sundonoma. Not on the exterior, of course, and we haven't had the time to accumulate such an array of magical objects in our four hundred years."
"You've found enough to occupy yourself?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Do call me Albus, young man."
"Certainly, sir." Sarven grinned. "Texi supplied me with quite a few volumes of interest to occupy me at least until Christmas."
"The ones I recommended?" This with a significant look.
Sarven returned to look. "Yes. The ones I have looked at seem most enlightening. But, again, I have not been here long enough to do a detailed examination."
"Be assured that you can call on me if you find anything of supreme interest." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I can always use further enlightening myself, and a new perspective often puts thing in a new light."
He rummaged one of the pockets in his voluminous silver and purple robes, finally coming up with a bag of lemon drops which he offered around before taking one himself and stowing them away again. "Goodness knows my brain gets a bit musty at times."
Harry doubted that entirely. Dumbledore had the sharpest mind of any wizard he knew.
"I will do my best to brush away the cobwebs, Albus, sir." Sarven grinned, and once again Harry thought that the smile both looked completely natural and somewhat out of place on a face so like Snape's.
"I'm certain you will, Sarven. The password is 'Ton-tongue toffee'." He smiled as Harry barked a laugh, remembering his fourth year and an incident with Dudley and the infamous sweets. "I will show you the way now if you do wish it, then you won't have any trouble later."
"That sounds best. I was never a great hand at directions, but if you show me I will no doubt be able to find it again." Dumbledore stood, and Sarven followed suit, both saying farewells to Harry before departing the hall.
Texi remained behind, though she watched them go with her large green eyes. When they exited the hall she sighed once, then turned to Harry. He watched her intently, wondering if she intended to start the lessons right away.
"No, not tonight, Harry." He voice sounded in his mind with an overtone of amusement and a hint of tiredness. "I think that neither you, nor I are quite up to the amount of concentration it requires."
"Are you all right, Texi?" Harry asked.
"Sarven and I had a bit of an...altercation this afternoon." Texi commented wryly. "I think he should do something he doesn't wish to do." A one shouldered shrug. "He can be rather acidic when he's angry."
"Genner said something to that affect at Stepenwolv." Harry nodded, feeling a crick in his neck forming from the effort of twisting it to look at her.
Texi noticed and moved to a location easier seen, then took up the conversation again. She grinned. "Ah, yes. Genner and Sarven are best friends, for all that Genner is several years older than the two of us. They were quite the team at school."
Harry tried to imagine it. He could see Sarven at school easily enough, for he had seen his look-alike at the age of fifteen years. The problem was that Genner reminded him somewhat of both Remus and Sirius, with the one's sandy complexion and mild nature, and the good looks and aristocratic bearing of the other. Though they didn't really look alike, Harry couldn't help but think there was a resemblance.
It was this sort of strange familiarity of the two young men that made it seem unlikely that they were friends, let alone best friends. Texi seemed to notice his doubt, though she couldn't possibly know the cause.
"I know it's unlikely," She smiled, abruptly laying herself down on the bed next to Harry's so they could look each other in the eye. "There's a story behind it. You see, one day, I think it was in our second year, and Genner was in his fourth year. It was a little after Sarven came to live with us, and Genner was teasing him about something. Something rather harmless, really. So Sarven..." She had to pause here to giggle at the memory. "Sarven somehow hexed him so that every time he spoke his nose grew. I think it was nearly a foot long before Genner convinced him to reverse it."
"But wouldn't he be mad?" Harry asked in confusion.
"On the contrary, he was impressed. Genner has a terrific sense of humor." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tric takes credit for it, but it was actually Genner that gave Sarven his nickname."
"What is it?" Harry asked in an equally sotto voice.
Texi looked about the room as though searching for hidden listeners. "Well, but you must swear upon your wand that you'll never tell a soul."
Harry swore.
She rolled off the bed and knelt beside him so she could whisper it in his ear. "Geppetto."
Harry caught the reference, Pinocchio having been one of the untouched books in Dudley's second bedroom. Untouched, that is, until Harry moved in. He chuckled.
Texi leaned back and nodded, still kneeling on the floor. "Now, before your Madame...Poddy?"
"Pomfrey." Harry provided.
"Certainly." She agreed. "But as she will descend upon us at any moment, having only allowed us a limited time with you, I must get to the point of my remaining." She picked herself up and perched again on the bed, adopting the stance of elbows on knees that Sarven had utilized earlier.
"The greatest technique, the most useful technique, the most necessary one, in the arts of both Legillimency and Occlumency, is meditation. I know Professor Snape has told you to clear you mind every night, and so did Remus, but have you been?"
She took Harry's guilty look for a no. "Yes, I thought so." She said without judgment. "But they didn't really tell you how to go about it, did they?"
"There's a specific way?" His hand unconsciously crept to his side to rub surreptitiously.
"No scratching." She warned, and his hand shot back to its place near the pillow.
She laughed her soundless laugh before continuing her former thread. "Not quite. But it's much better than merely sending you off with obscure directions and giving you no way to really follow them." She shook her head, saying in an exasperated voice. "Men."
Harry wondered if she included him in that category.
"All right, Harry. So you can get back to sleep, I will try to make this brief, and we can continue tomorrow night so you can tell me if it worked or not." She looked at him closely. "I want you to pick something, something that has meaning for you, or even something that doesn't, but usually those things in the first category work better. It can be an object, a person, an animal, pretty much anything."
"What I want you to do is to picture that thing in your mind, so clearly that it seems you are looking at it. Don't worry if it doesn't work right away, this is not a very easy thing to do."
The young woman leaned forward again, and Harry blinked at the intensity in her eyes, feeling compelled not to look away. "Pour everything into this image, let it hold it for you until you want to take it out and look at it. Let it have all your worries, your fears, even your joys. Let it hold your hopes and your memories. It will keep them for you, until you are able to empty your mind of even it."
"It sounds..." Harry faltered. "What do you see?"
"A dryad tree near my house." She answered without hesitation. "It is a beautiful tree, and if I picture it." She closed her eyes for a moment, "I can see it at the height of summer, smell the green of the leaves and the damp of the soil, hear the wind in the branches and the voices of the birds, see the light dappling the loam around its roots." She opened her eyes again. "It holds all I want it to, and well."
"Like a Pensieve?" He asked.
She thought a moment. "A bit." She said finally. She glanced over her shoulder, and a moment later, Harry saw the white uniformed figure of Madame Pomfrey enter the ward, a jar in her hand.
"Choose wisely, Harry." She said, "I will see you tomorrow." Then she brushed his hair with her fingers, turned on her heel, and strode out with a nod as she passed Madame Pomfrey.
"Well, now that I can tend my popular patient." She said sniffily when she reached Harry's bed. "Let's get some of this potion on you."
Harry wondered for a moment if it was the potion Snape had provided, and a minute later he no longer cared. Whatever it was took away the itch and, even if Snape had brewed it, for this he was profoundly grateful.
A time later, his wounds pronounced to be healing, and likely gone by morning, Harry lay on his side, Durry curled up against his stomach. He stared into the dim darkness of the ward, his mind on Texi's request of an earlier time. He thought of things he may use, discarding them one after the other.
Durry? No, that would probably not be a good idea. Seeing that the little chronogryffon was in tune with his emotions he might be giving the poor fellow a complex all unknowingly.
Cord was out of the question. Snakes had too many bad associations in his mind.
He thought of his friends, his Firebolt, the whomping willow, Arthur Weasley's car...which was still roaming wild in the Forbidden forest. He didn't think any of those would work.
He was just about to give up and turn over to get some sleep when another image appeared in his head. It was a large black dog with large feet and jaws. His eyes were human in a patient canine face. Harry could see it as though it were laying right before him, watching him intently.
'Yes,' He thought, and the dog wagged its tail, almost surprising him.
He had almost no trouble pouring his emotions into the dog. After all, Sirius was the only one he could trust to hold his deepest fears and his fondest dreams.
His mind blank, his thoughts safely tucked away in the dog's image, Harry finally fell asleep.
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Chapter 25: Scratching Itches
Harry was not at first completely sure if he were asleep or awake. He lay in a hospital bed, which he could tell from the all too frequent trips to receive medical attention. He lay on his stomach, his head cushioned by the pillow and was covered in a soft sheet from the shoulders down. He was wearing pajamas, and he itched. He itched terribly.
He squirmed uncomfortably, longing to scratch, and heard Durry chirp from somewhere in the vicinity of the center of his shoulders. He was completely prepared to rub his itching skin mightily, even before he bothered opening his eyes, when he heard a murmur of voices coming closer to his bed.
He froze, thinking. Often he overheard many an interesting thing when people thought he was still asleep. Deliberately, he relaxed again, just burrowing his face further into his pillow in a sleeping gesture. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his ears open.
"...shocked when I heard him," He recognized the throaty voice of Professor Lanya, "speaking the mother tongue."
"Ah, yes. That would be surprising, seeing as he doesn't know it." He realized it was Dumbledore speaking. "Or, I should say, he didn't."
"But it worries me, very much so." Lanya did sound very worried, close to tears actually. "From what you say, it seems likely..." She trailed off on a choking note.
"I cannot lie to you, Larissa. It does not seem well, there has been no response to our attempts at contact. I have, however, gotten in touch with Charlie Weasley in Romania, and he is heading there with all possible haste." Dumbledore told her gently.
There was a sound of faintly creaking bedsprings, and he figured that the sound meant that one or both of them had taken a seat on the bed adjoining his own.
Harry squeezed his eyes open a slit, and saw that Dumbledore and Lanya had seated themselves side by side. The both looked sober and Lanya seemed very pale. He peered narrowly beyond them and saw that the hall was very dim, in was obviously after nightfall and only a few of the lamps had been lit.
He brought his gaze back, and caught Dumbledore's eyes on him, twinkling faintly. He let out a long sigh, he should have known he wouldn't be able to feign sleep for long around the Headmaster. He opened his eyes with a rueful smile.
"I am glad to see you awake, Harry." Dumbledore said, his eyes still locked on Harry's. Harry felt a peculiar sense of relief, and realized that he had feared he would have the same reaction as he did the last year, when his visions tortured his sleeping and waking moments. He did not hate Dumbledore, even when he was so angry with him that he couldn't see straight. He couldn't think of what to say, so he just nodded.
"How do you feel?" Professor Lanya asked, her voice strange.
"Better, but I itch all over."
"Yes, Madame Pomfrey said that would happen. She will be here in a while, we just wished to speak to you about a few things first." She provided with a sideways glance at Dumbledore. "Will you tell us precisely what you saw?"
Harry gulped and made to turn over so he could prop himself up on his pillows while he talked. He was forestalled by a gentle hand, and looked over to see Dumbledore standing beside his bed, his hand on the boy's arm. "You may wish to stay where you are, Harry. The burns on your back were very severe, and have not yet healed."
Harry's hand crept almost unconsciously to his healing skin. Reminded, the urge to scratch returned full force.
"Ah, we were also informed to advise you not to irritate the healing skin." He added diffidently.
Harry sighed in a long-suffering way. "I'll try not to."
"I'm certain you will." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, what did you see, Harry?" He asked, very gently.
Harry paused, gathering his recollections, his thoughts, and his courage to go through the ordeal again. Another moment it took to reach up and touch Durry's warm fur for reassurance. Finally he began to speak, keeping his voice as steady as he could, and including all the details that he could remember.
He included such things as the color of the curtains, the shape of the room, the stones of the fireplace. He talked about the swarthy fellow in the painting and how Wormtail had silenced him, this occasioning a gasp from Lanya and a grim look from Dumbledore.
The woman he saved for last, finding her the most difficult to talk about. He described her hair, her nightdress, but left out how the blood from her bitten lip had spattered the pale fabric. Then he told of what they said.
At one point, Lanya went so pale that Harry thought she was going to faint outright. "What did she say, again?" She said, her voice little more than a weak whisper.
Harry paused before saying, "Nothing less, Faddey."
"Oh, Merlin." She whispered. "Oh, Merlin."
Harry saw Dumbledore reach over and squeeze her hand. "You must prepare yourself."
"I see that now, I see." She said, closing her eyes and clinging to his hand like a lifeline. "Do continue, Harry." She said at last, her voice slightly stronger.
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded. He went on, going through the rest of the confrontation, keeping his voice as steady as he could. At several points Lanya nodded, or pressed her lips together so that they looked completely bloodless.
When Harry was done, she didn't move for a very long moment. Then she nodded one more time, and stood quietly. "I must have some time to think." She said, her voice wavering only slightly. "Recover quickly, Harry."
She strode away, her footsteps clacking quickly across the stone floor and echoing against the tall ceilings. She opened the door to the hall, paused a moment, allowing a couple of figures that Harry could not quite make out to pass into the room, then exited.
Dumbledore stood and moved to perch on the end of Harry's bed, smiling at him as Harry saw that it was Mitexi and the seldom seen Sarven.
Mitexi clasped his hand carefully, mindful of his injuries, the Sarven followed suit before they both took the seats that Dumbledore and Lanya had abandoned. Texi glanced at Dumbledore before taking out her wand, touching it briefly to her throat before flicking it at one of the unlit lamps near the bed, brightening the area noticeably.
Harry could see that they both look serious, though he noticed that Sarven also looked a bit skittish, glancing over his shoulder at the door every few seconds as though worrying that someone would enter and find him there.
Texi gazed steadily at Harry, as though trying to read the thoughts that passed behind his eyes. It occurred to him that she probably could, but he found it did not bother him too much if so.
Then she looked at Dumbledore, and her voice sounded in Harry's head. "His mind has been elsewhere, but you are already aware of this."
"Indeed, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "It is troubling, but do you feel any resonance that says another mind is here?"
Mitexi stared again at Harry. "No." She said finally. "The only thoughts in Harry's head belong to Harry."
"That is what I found as well, but it is good to have another opinion." Dumbledore agreed. He looked at Harry. "You may have noticed an area on your schedule designated for independent studies. In fact, I am certain you have noticed."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Wednesday evenings," He said thoughtfully. "I wondered what that was intended for." He looked at Mitexi, then back to Dumbledore. "Occlumency?"
"Right on the first try, Harry. Though ostensibly you will be receiving tutoring for Potions, something Professor Snape insisted upon before admitting you without an Outstanding score on your practical." His eyes twinkled. "Or that's the story."
"Why did Snape," Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Harry quickly corrected himself, "Professor Snape, allow me in, then?"
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "You may think that I asked him to, but I did not. Sometimes Professor Snape does things for rather unfathomable reasons."
Sarven made a small coughing noise, and Harry glanced at him to find the young man's face perfectly blank. His deep blue eyes, however, were awash with emotions likely equally as unfathomable as Snape's reasoning.
"So, Texi?" Harry continued, changing back to the original subject.
"Yes," her voice echoed in his mind, "I will be helping you. I, Professor Snape, and, as often as he can," She ducked her head at the Headmaster, "Professor Dumbledore."
Harry made a face at the mention of Snape's name. Texi caught it and guessed at the reason. "I managed to get him to answer a few questions I had about his approach, and it seems more of an offensive than defensive beginning. This is not to say that it is not an ineffective method. But I think, knowing you, Scar," The nickname had a different feel to it, and Harry knew she isolated it to his mind, "it is something you would tend to resist."
Harry hesitated, then nodded reluctantly, acknowledging that it probably was not entirely Snape's fault that the lessons had failed.
"You will find my method different, possibly easier to accept, and it should help prepare your mind for Professor Snape's lessons." She smiled faintly, "I've never had someone with your problem under my tutelage before, and I think, of our combined lessons, his will be more useful. My method is more of a reaching out, his seems to be a barricading in." She fell silent, obviously contemplating this whole scenario with her quick and fine-tuned mind.
"I will do my best," He said finally, meaning it and not doubting her sincerity.
"It is unfortunate that you can't keep your chrono with you until you learn to ward your mind." Sarven chimed in with a glance at Durry.
"Yes, we considered that," Dumbledore commented, "I am afraid that he may be a bit more of a hindrance than a help in Harry's classes." He sighed, "This and the fact that the other students are not allowed to keep their familiars with them, and they would resent it. But after this incident..."
Harry shook his head wearily. "No, Durry is better off in my rooms."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly, but Harry noticed that he looked searchingly at Sarven. He wondered what Dumbledore knew about the young man, and what was turning in his mind during those moments.
Sarven shrugged, unaware of scrutiny, or perhaps simply ignoring it. "Just a thought."
"A good one though, and one that we did consider most carefully." Dumbledore assured him again.
Harry asked Sarven. "How do you find the castle?"
"It's very large." Sarven said, leaning forward and resting elbows on his knees with an amused smile for Harry's clumsy change of subject. "I've not explored it much, but it seems that there are quite a few similarities between the castle and Sundonoma. Not on the exterior, of course, and we haven't had the time to accumulate such an array of magical objects in our four hundred years."
"You've found enough to occupy yourself?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Do call me Albus, young man."
"Certainly, sir." Sarven grinned. "Texi supplied me with quite a few volumes of interest to occupy me at least until Christmas."
"The ones I recommended?" This with a significant look.
Sarven returned to look. "Yes. The ones I have looked at seem most enlightening. But, again, I have not been here long enough to do a detailed examination."
"Be assured that you can call on me if you find anything of supreme interest." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I can always use further enlightening myself, and a new perspective often puts thing in a new light."
He rummaged one of the pockets in his voluminous silver and purple robes, finally coming up with a bag of lemon drops which he offered around before taking one himself and stowing them away again. "Goodness knows my brain gets a bit musty at times."
Harry doubted that entirely. Dumbledore had the sharpest mind of any wizard he knew.
"I will do my best to brush away the cobwebs, Albus, sir." Sarven grinned, and once again Harry thought that the smile both looked completely natural and somewhat out of place on a face so like Snape's.
"I'm certain you will, Sarven. The password is 'Ton-tongue toffee'." He smiled as Harry barked a laugh, remembering his fourth year and an incident with Dudley and the infamous sweets. "I will show you the way now if you do wish it, then you won't have any trouble later."
"That sounds best. I was never a great hand at directions, but if you show me I will no doubt be able to find it again." Dumbledore stood, and Sarven followed suit, both saying farewells to Harry before departing the hall.
Texi remained behind, though she watched them go with her large green eyes. When they exited the hall she sighed once, then turned to Harry. He watched her intently, wondering if she intended to start the lessons right away.
"No, not tonight, Harry." He voice sounded in his mind with an overtone of amusement and a hint of tiredness. "I think that neither you, nor I are quite up to the amount of concentration it requires."
"Are you all right, Texi?" Harry asked.
"Sarven and I had a bit of an...altercation this afternoon." Texi commented wryly. "I think he should do something he doesn't wish to do." A one shouldered shrug. "He can be rather acidic when he's angry."
"Genner said something to that affect at Stepenwolv." Harry nodded, feeling a crick in his neck forming from the effort of twisting it to look at her.
Texi noticed and moved to a location easier seen, then took up the conversation again. She grinned. "Ah, yes. Genner and Sarven are best friends, for all that Genner is several years older than the two of us. They were quite the team at school."
Harry tried to imagine it. He could see Sarven at school easily enough, for he had seen his look-alike at the age of fifteen years. The problem was that Genner reminded him somewhat of both Remus and Sirius, with the one's sandy complexion and mild nature, and the good looks and aristocratic bearing of the other. Though they didn't really look alike, Harry couldn't help but think there was a resemblance.
It was this sort of strange familiarity of the two young men that made it seem unlikely that they were friends, let alone best friends. Texi seemed to notice his doubt, though she couldn't possibly know the cause.
"I know it's unlikely," She smiled, abruptly laying herself down on the bed next to Harry's so they could look each other in the eye. "There's a story behind it. You see, one day, I think it was in our second year, and Genner was in his fourth year. It was a little after Sarven came to live with us, and Genner was teasing him about something. Something rather harmless, really. So Sarven..." She had to pause here to giggle at the memory. "Sarven somehow hexed him so that every time he spoke his nose grew. I think it was nearly a foot long before Genner convinced him to reverse it."
"But wouldn't he be mad?" Harry asked in confusion.
"On the contrary, he was impressed. Genner has a terrific sense of humor." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tric takes credit for it, but it was actually Genner that gave Sarven his nickname."
"What is it?" Harry asked in an equally sotto voice.
Texi looked about the room as though searching for hidden listeners. "Well, but you must swear upon your wand that you'll never tell a soul."
Harry swore.
She rolled off the bed and knelt beside him so she could whisper it in his ear. "Geppetto."
Harry caught the reference, Pinocchio having been one of the untouched books in Dudley's second bedroom. Untouched, that is, until Harry moved in. He chuckled.
Texi leaned back and nodded, still kneeling on the floor. "Now, before your Madame...Poddy?"
"Pomfrey." Harry provided.
"Certainly." She agreed. "But as she will descend upon us at any moment, having only allowed us a limited time with you, I must get to the point of my remaining." She picked herself up and perched again on the bed, adopting the stance of elbows on knees that Sarven had utilized earlier.
"The greatest technique, the most useful technique, the most necessary one, in the arts of both Legillimency and Occlumency, is meditation. I know Professor Snape has told you to clear you mind every night, and so did Remus, but have you been?"
She took Harry's guilty look for a no. "Yes, I thought so." She said without judgment. "But they didn't really tell you how to go about it, did they?"
"There's a specific way?" His hand unconsciously crept to his side to rub surreptitiously.
"No scratching." She warned, and his hand shot back to its place near the pillow.
She laughed her soundless laugh before continuing her former thread. "Not quite. But it's much better than merely sending you off with obscure directions and giving you no way to really follow them." She shook her head, saying in an exasperated voice. "Men."
Harry wondered if she included him in that category.
"All right, Harry. So you can get back to sleep, I will try to make this brief, and we can continue tomorrow night so you can tell me if it worked or not." She looked at him closely. "I want you to pick something, something that has meaning for you, or even something that doesn't, but usually those things in the first category work better. It can be an object, a person, an animal, pretty much anything."
"What I want you to do is to picture that thing in your mind, so clearly that it seems you are looking at it. Don't worry if it doesn't work right away, this is not a very easy thing to do."
The young woman leaned forward again, and Harry blinked at the intensity in her eyes, feeling compelled not to look away. "Pour everything into this image, let it hold it for you until you want to take it out and look at it. Let it have all your worries, your fears, even your joys. Let it hold your hopes and your memories. It will keep them for you, until you are able to empty your mind of even it."
"It sounds..." Harry faltered. "What do you see?"
"A dryad tree near my house." She answered without hesitation. "It is a beautiful tree, and if I picture it." She closed her eyes for a moment, "I can see it at the height of summer, smell the green of the leaves and the damp of the soil, hear the wind in the branches and the voices of the birds, see the light dappling the loam around its roots." She opened her eyes again. "It holds all I want it to, and well."
"Like a Pensieve?" He asked.
She thought a moment. "A bit." She said finally. She glanced over her shoulder, and a moment later, Harry saw the white uniformed figure of Madame Pomfrey enter the ward, a jar in her hand.
"Choose wisely, Harry." She said, "I will see you tomorrow." Then she brushed his hair with her fingers, turned on her heel, and strode out with a nod as she passed Madame Pomfrey.
"Well, now that I can tend my popular patient." She said sniffily when she reached Harry's bed. "Let's get some of this potion on you."
Harry wondered for a moment if it was the potion Snape had provided, and a minute later he no longer cared. Whatever it was took away the itch and, even if Snape had brewed it, for this he was profoundly grateful.
A time later, his wounds pronounced to be healing, and likely gone by morning, Harry lay on his side, Durry curled up against his stomach. He stared into the dim darkness of the ward, his mind on Texi's request of an earlier time. He thought of things he may use, discarding them one after the other.
Durry? No, that would probably not be a good idea. Seeing that the little chronogryffon was in tune with his emotions he might be giving the poor fellow a complex all unknowingly.
Cord was out of the question. Snakes had too many bad associations in his mind.
He thought of his friends, his Firebolt, the whomping willow, Arthur Weasley's car...which was still roaming wild in the Forbidden forest. He didn't think any of those would work.
He was just about to give up and turn over to get some sleep when another image appeared in his head. It was a large black dog with large feet and jaws. His eyes were human in a patient canine face. Harry could see it as though it were laying right before him, watching him intently.
'Yes,' He thought, and the dog wagged its tail, almost surprising him.
He had almost no trouble pouring his emotions into the dog. After all, Sirius was the only one he could trust to hold his deepest fears and his fondest dreams.
His mind blank, his thoughts safely tucked away in the dog's image, Harry finally fell asleep.
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