Erised's Bane
Author's Note: Well, hello again. Good to see you all back here, hmm? I just have a couple of things to say before I start the chapter...
To my reviewer Calimora thanks as always for the incredible and detailed review. I always take your comments into consideration and now I almost wish I hadn't made Snape the teacher of Harry's Occlumency lessons in this fan fiction, but it's too late now...oh well. Anyway, please tell me what you think at least of the way that I have portrayed the lessons. I am going to try and make them devoid of the usual Snape-hate syndrome...you know Snape hates Harry, Harry hates Snape, they try to kill each other and then everybody goes out for tea. But I am also leaving out the obligatory Snape begins seeing how horrible things are for Harry and they come to like each other...well, at least not in the traditional, cliched sense. So just tell me what you think...
And to Exodus, while I do realize that leadership is important for Quidditch captain, we can't forget Harry's tendency to make rash decisions, to forget the main focus and let the here and now take over. And though I do realize that in the past book, he hated Ron being prefect at first, I am trying to portray this Harry as being a mixture of the old and new...old innocent Harry, who isn't selfish but who also dreams of what he wants, and new Harry who now knows what his destiny entails, and who is confused at the moment as to what he really wants. I guess what I mean is that Quidditch is no longer important to him...it's a part of his life, sure, but didn't you notice that when they were going over his future career choices 'Professional Quidditch Player' was not on the list? No...Auror was.
Well, thanks for the great reviews. You people kick total butt! YEAH!
Disclaimer: Obligatory 'I don't own Harry Potter,' insert joke here, followed by shrewd self-mockery and another joke before closing with standard Harry Potter fandom humor.
Chapter Nine: Taunting and Terror
"Come in Potter."
Snape was seated at his desk, the soft light of the candle nearby flickering unsteadily across his expressionless face...expressionless, that is, except for that special loathing glare Harry had become used to in the past five years.
Harry stood uncertainly at the edge of the steps leading into the dungeon, contemplating whether or not he wanted to go through with it. As he thought about it, he supposed he could always go back to Dumbledore, ask if he could perhaps get lessons from him instead. After all, what worse punishment could there be than being stuck in a dungeon with Snape for an hour?
But he knew even before he asked the question that he wouldn't go to Dumbledore. Harry didn't know the capabilities of his own strength. He had never been one to stretch himself to the limit, to see how far that he could go. Even Hermione herself didn't dare to test herself on the harder spells, especially the ones considered tools of only the darkest wizards. But what if somewhere deep within him where Voldemort nestled, coiled like a snake ready to strike, something was stirred by that unrelenting hatred? Harry didn't know what he could do to Dumbledore with his mind cleared so completely and opened so widely, but the guilt that had lingered within him since what he had done on his birthday was enough to make his decision.
He would suffer through it with Snape. Even that torture was nothing...nothing compared to the pain Harry knew he would feel if he hurt somebody he cared for.
Snape stood and walked slowly over. "I hope you understand, Potter, that you are here only because Dumbledore has convinced me it is necessary. You will not fail me like you did last year and I absolutely will not tolerate a lack of discipline such as that I saw. Is this clear?"
"Yes sir." Harry said faintly. Now that people are finally telling me the truth, I don't have to resort to the thoughts of the most evil wizard alive for information.
"Furthermore, if I so much as suspect that you are meddling in my personal affairs, I will personally see to it that not only are these lessons ended but also that you will be taken from my N.E.W.T. class. Is that understood?" he said with a sneer.
"Of course sir." Said Harry with the air of somebody being interrogated and the quiet seething anger of somebody well acquainted to unsolicited circumstances.
Snape looked at Harry for a long moment as if trying to see beyond the slender, slightly pale sixteen-year-old wizard that stood in front of him before finally muttering, "Very well." He pointed to the chair opposite Harry. "Sit Potter."
Harry took his seat, attempting to keep himself from showing any signs of emotion. This was a hard task because at the moment he was feeling combined stabs of pity and annoyance that his friends were up in the last fading lights of the sun and he was stuck in a dank and foreboding prison. Snape took position across the desk from Harry and after a minute that stretched into eternity sighed.
"It would have been so much easier to do this last year. The Dark Lord had only just begun to dip into the depths of your mind...as of yet, he hadn't discovered just how far he could go. That has changed.
"Now he has gone deep. Before it was dreams, slight emotions crouching at the base of your own fears, desires. Now he imposes them on you, he makes you capable of feeling him with such depth that you yourself do magic when he delves into your mind. And, as you astutely observed, he is taunting you." Snape paused, lazily turning his wand over in the palm of his hand. "So to block your mind, we cannot simply start at the surface as we did last year. If we were to do so...to block out your shallowest thoughts...it might prevent him from breaking through for a little while. However, if we were to start at the back, we could begin blocking and make our way up. Do you understand?" he said suddenly, catching a thoughtful Harry off-guard.
"It's like shutting a door." Harry said on the vague edges of perception. "If we start at the back and begin shutting them until we get to the front, it makes it that much harder for him to reach the back again."
"Shockingly, you seem to comprehend the matter." Snape said, standing. "But I have no more time for idle chatter. Let us begin now."
Harry stood and resumed the pose across the desk he had so many times before enacted, except this time is was with a determined frustration that he compelled himself to block his mind. It would flash blank for a moment before a new thought came back to him...Harry was trying to repress a strong surge of emotion that had just arisen when Snape struck.
"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon. If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it." Harry struggled to repress the thought...he had to, he had to... "It's one of the basic rules of breeding, you see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup--"
Harry shouted and in a flash he saw in his mind a young hook-nosed boy sitting on a stool, the school sorting hat perched on his head as a certain messy-haired boy at the Gryffindor table glared at him with pure malice. The image disappeared and he was suddenly in his own thoughts again.
"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us...this Potter, you never told me what he did?"
A grunting voice, shifty and suspicious. "He--didn't work. Unemployed."
"As I expected. A no-account, good for nothing..."
Another whip of consciousness and Harry saw for an instant the same hook-nosed boy from earlier sitting in a full classroom, a decades-younger McGonagall before the group. The boy was not paying attention to the lesson, though...instead, he was reading eagerly from a restricted book with the Transmogrifian Torture highlighted on the page he was staring at.
And suddenly he was aware of returning to the dark and dank dungeon. He shuddered off the final splinters of anger he felt from remembering that scene with his Aunt Marge. "I'm sure that was a blow to your ego. As it would have been to James' " Said Snape sullenly.
"Considering I blew up my aunt because of it, I'd say so." Harry responded shortly. "But you would be the expert on my dad, wouldn't you? Considering that you knew him and I didn't."
Snape didn't respond except to raise his wand again. "I expect you to be quicker to dispel my intrusion this time, Potter." He said. "That last attempt was pathetic."
Harry readied himself and a moment passed before he once again felt his thoughts come rushing up. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I don't know sir."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything." Shame, irritation...it all rose up and Harry attempted to keep himself from turning red as Snape turned back to him to ask another question. How was he to know? Harry thought with exasperation. He hadn't even known he was a wizard until a month ago...and it wasn't as if Harry thought he would be a great wizard at that. After all, compared to Ron or that girl Hermione he really knew so very little...
Harry blocked it with newfound shame and immediately saw an image of a younger Snape talking morosely to a cold-faced boy a few years older with slick blonde hair and the hardest gray eyes...
And they both once again returned to the dungeon, Harry desperately wishing Snape hadn't had to access that particular memory. He looked up. "Strange, isn't it? Until that point I hadn't even thought to dislike you." Harry muttered. "Of course I was used to being insulted..."
"Enough of that, Potter." Said Snape. "We have much to cover tonight. And little time to do it in. You do realize, of course, you're not supposed to be letting me into your thoughts at all?"
"I hadn't." Harry muttered through his breath, aware that Snape could only just make out what he was saying. "Thank you for informing me."
The third time they began...
"You're a parselmouth, why didn't you tell us?"
The fourth...
A handsome black-haired boy smiled at Harry, a vicious and hungry gleam in his eyes. "Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..." He waved Harry's wand through the air...TOM MARVELO RIDDLE. Another wave and a horrible jolt of realization...I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
A fifth time...
SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY. HARRY POTTER STINKS.
Another...
Screaming... "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" "Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside now..." "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead..." "Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..." Screaming, so much screaming...a flash of green light and death...
Harry shot it back after the hardest moment, building his strength slowly and unsteadily. A flash of Snape, alone at the edge of the haunted woods, watching the Whomping Willow rustle in the breeze, and Harry found himself back in reality.
He stood panting, almost nauseous. Snape was staring at him, his gaze piercing. "Would you like to end this lesson now? You don't..."
"I can do it." he said defiantly, warranting that familiar look of hatred from Snape. "Again."
"As you wish." The jolt came harder this time, and Harry was suddenly sure Snape had accessed finally the most private, the darkest of his thoughts...
"Wands out, d'you reckon?" A pause. "Yeah." Two boys, one tall and handsome, a puzzled look on his face, the other small and scrawny, his green eyes pale and clear with a vague unrest... "Someone's coming." A huddled figure, an infant-like creature. A flash of green, the tall boys falls to the ground. "Kill the spare..." the high cold voice. "Kill the spare...kill the spare..."
The grave, Harry held tightly, bound against the tombstone. The cauldron and all it's various colors, the eminent evil in the air... "It is ready master..." The sickly sensation as the creature emerged, the child-like, fragile being, the repulsive thing... "Bone of the father..."
"Flesh of the servant..."
"Blood of the enemy..." the slice of a knife through the crook of his arm. The bright flash, the rise of bile in the young boy's throat...
"Robe me." Eyes open, the boy could only stare in horror...
"Potter, come back!"
"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall..." the ripping pain as cold finger touched the heat of Harry's flesh, the burning of a scar white-hot through his body... A running course through time, expanded into eternity... "Bow to death, Harry...face me like a man, straight-backed and proud, the same way your father died..." time expanded and running on, the course of pain and mental torture...and finally the cage of light, the emergence of his mother and father, there if only echoes...
And that vision rushed onward to the screams and cries of battle. Blood scented in the air, anger clouding judgment. Harry, now older, turned and saw Sirius standing, wand lax in his hand, almost casual. "Come on, you can do better than that!" The jet of light and the slow fall, the graceful arc, the last look and realization of eminent death on his godfather's face as he fell through the veil, never to return...
"Potter!" The floor was cold. It was the one sensation Harry had. Slowly, achily he rose pushing his glasses back up on his sweaty forehead. He glanced over at Snape who was even paler than usual--Harry guessed correctly that it had been the shock of seeing Voldemort return...because only Harry had seen it until now.
"You didn't even bother to block it!" Snape said angrily. "For once I had thought you were making actual progress, Potter."
"Sorry." Harry said, the tone of his voice indicating anger. "But that isn't exactly the fondest moment of my life. I tend to get a bit emotional about it."
"Practice. I don't wish to waste my time on you if you can't take responsibility. That is all for tonight."
________________________________________________________________________
Harry woke the next morning with a dull ache throbbing low in his head, vaguely aware of the intrusion of morning on the dream he had been having. He had rid his mind of thought as best he could the night before...rid his mind as much as he could. Though it seemed to work slightly, he still found himself in Voldemort's thoughts, though it was now as a known observer, with the constant feeling of being watched as Voldemort was aware of his presence.
He quickly dressed and yawning went down to breakfast. "There you are." Said Hermione. "It's about time you woke up, Ron and I were just about to go get you."
"Good morning to you." Harry said as he sat and pulled a plate over, savoring the scent of sausages and scrambled eggs. "I think the Occlumency is starting to work. A little." He said in a hurried whisper, leaning forward so that only Ron or Hermione could hear.
"Really?" Hermione said cheerfully. "So that means you didn't have a dream or anything?"
"No, I still had a dream. Voldemort was talking to Wormtail. But..." he looked around warily, making sure nobody was listening, "it was all sort of hazy. Like looking through fog or something."
"That doesn't mean anything." Ron said. Hermione turned and glared.
"Of course it does! Ron, how can you say anything like that?"
"Hey, just because Dream-Harry forgot to wear his glasses..."
Hermione frowned as Harry broke out into laughter and Ron grinned. "Barking mad, joking about something like that." She said, though a faint smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.
"Yes, well." Harry stood straighter, taking a bite of his toast. "Has the mail arrived yet?" he said, looking up as if expecting to see a bunch of owls fluttering overhead.
"Nope. Expecting something?"
"Not really." Replied Harry. "It's just been awhile since anybody from the Order wrote. Remus and Tonks have been pretty good at telling me what's going on...well, the stuff they are able to put in a letter."
"Oh yeah." Ron said, suddenly dismal. "I forgot that you get to know what's going on and we're stuck wondering."
"What?" Harry said, dropping the bit of toast he was still holding on to. "I've told you about things."
"Not everything. Like what happened at that meeting."
Hermione sighed. "I thought we agreed to drop that Ron. Harry can't tell us. I just..."
"Of course you side with him." Ron said. "Always do, don't you?"
"What?" Hermione blinked. "Ron, I'm being supportive. Which is more than I can say for you at the moment. What's bothering you?"
Ron stared down at the table, suddenly turning red. "Nothing, Hermione. I just lost my temper for a moment; I'm all right now. Just forget I said anything, right Harry?"
"What? Did you say something?" Harry said in an attempt to lighten the situation. Both of his friends smiled weakly and Harry was just on the point of asking what classes they had that day when the post arrived.
Harry immediately noticed Hedwig among the other birds--she was quite noticeably amid all the other shades of brown and gray--as she swooped down and dropped three fat envelopes into his lap before settling down on the side of his chair and nipping him lightly on the ear. He patted her quickly on the back before she took flight once more. He pulled out the letters and laid them out on the table. The first was a quick note from Remus.
Harry,
Just writing to ask how things are going. No information yet on your wand, but we've heard tell of Voldemort keeping a close watch on something, so there's hope. Keep an eye on your medallion, as I'm sure that sometime in the future your presence will be required at another meeting. There's also tell that another Daily Prophet article is forthcoming so keep an eye out. Here's hoping that you're doing well.
Remus
PS-I've talked to Dumbledore and we've agreed you're free to tell your friends any information directly concerning you. Anything else from the meeting is off-limits, though. I hope this helps.
Harry flipped the letter over and breathed a sigh of relief. Now free to tell his friends what he would, he resigned himself to telling them that afternoon during lunch. He then went on to the second letter and examined the scrawl on the front with surprise. It was from Fudge, the minister of magic, written and sent by Percy. "Look, Ron." He hissed, poking the letter over just so that he could see. Hermione bent over, gasping slightly.
"Read it out loud." Hermione whispered. Harry nodded and pulled it open.
Dear Mister Potter,
The Ministry offers its deepest regrets in the circumstances last year and gravely wishes that the events and actions of this ministry caused you no inconvenience. "Inconvenience?" Hermione muttered. "Slimy gits." But now that the truth has come to light, we see it as in our best interests to make a public statement concerning the matter. As yet nothing has been said besides that which is in the papers, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has requested a press conference dated for the fourth of October. Because of your unfortunate connections to the recent affair, we would appreciate your cooperation in this conference and ask that you be ready to make a prepared statement for all press in attendance. Sincerely,
Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic
Percival Weasley
"The git's using his full name?" Ron said in annoyance. "And I thought he was bad as head boy."
"Oh Harry, you have to give a prepared statement!" Hermione said anxiously. "That's horrible!"
"I know." He said distractedly. "I don't know which is better, having people think I'm a nutter or having them watch my every move." He refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. "October fourth, that gives me a month. I'm sure the Order will work out what I have to say. I'll probably get up there and make a fool of myself." He said. "I'm sure Voldemort will be really intimidated...me standing up there, stuttering over half my words and drooling all over myself before conking out from the sheer madness of it all."
"Don't worry. You'll be fine. You're used to it. I've only gotten myself in the paper once, I can't imagine being in there almost every day."
"Who knows?" Harry said under his breath. "I could always throw Luna Lovegood a bone...say we got into a bad batch of Polyjuice potion second year and I'm really you and you're really me. I'm sure that would entertain the masses."
"No, thanks." Ron snorted. "I'm perfectly content leaving you to be the nutter, thank you very much."
"All right, enough of this." Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "If you haven't noticed you have another letter left and there's no name on it to tell us who it's from. So open it, will you?"
Harry picked up the last envelope and looked over it...as Hermione had said, there wasn't a name on it. He pulled it open and slipped out a second envelope...this one of scarlet red. "Oh no..." he muttered. "A howler..."
"Who could it be from?" Hermione said, dropping her spoon back into her bowl of porridge.
"Only one way to find out." Ron muttered. "Harry...go ahead."
Gulping, he ripped open the howler and the room was immediately assaulted by a loud, unearthly screeching. Everybody was covering their ears as they turned--it was louder than any howler Harry had ever heard, and at the moment there was no words...only the hideous screeching.
Suddenly, a cold high voice that Harry knew only too well resounded over the room and he jumped, feeling ice crawl over his skin.
"YOU CAN NOT HIDE FROM THE DARK LORD, HARRY POTTER!" it boomed. "LORD VOLDEMORT IS ALWAYS WATCHING. I AM WAITING FOR YOU." The screeching returned as the last words echoed into nothingness. Finally it ended. Feeling ice prickle down his spine and intense glee roll through his stomach with the harsh pain of his scar, Harry turned and vomited on the stone floor. All of the students realized at the same moment just whose voice had been contained in the howler. As a mass they screamed and most stood hastily and ran to the doors in a great rush, crowding away from Harry so that the only ones near were Hermione and Ron.
"Come on." Ron said quickly, pulling Harry up by the arm and steadying him as he swayed on his feet. "Let's get out of here."
Hermione took his other arm and as quickly as possible they left, the crowd parting as they cut through. When they were clear of the hall Hermione and Ron stopped and Harry walked over to lean against the wall. "He's trying to get to me." Harry said. "And it's working."
"Oh Harry." Hermione said with a small gasp. "Please don't think like that. Like you haven't got any hope..."
"Well, what if I haven't?!" he said, pushing himself up from the wall. "What if I don't have any hope? I think it's all pretty useless if you ask me. All this and people are already dying. And I'm too bloody weak to even keep him out of my head, much less..." he froze, on the verge of saying kill him before he realized his friends didn't yet know of the prophecy...and he wasn't sure he wanted them to know.
He turned when he heard clicking footsteps. Dumbledore was walking up, seething with anger. "I never thought he'd be fool enough to try it here under my watch." He said violently, making Harry jump. "Come up to my office immediately Harry. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you come also."
Nervously, with the voice of his tormentor echoing in his thoughts, he went shakily between his friends to the statue outside Dumbledore's office and they paused. "Caramel Apple." Dumbledore said, making the gargoyle immediately spring to life to reveal the swirling stairs. Ron and Hermione, neither of whom had ever been to Dumbledore's office, stepped up onto the stairs after Harry.
The door opened before Dumbledore even put his hand to it and they all stepped inside, Harry taking his usual chair without even noticing it or waiting for Dumbledore to ask him to sit. His friends hesitantly stood at either side of him, tentatively looking about the office.
The last time I was here, Harry thought, I found out I had to... even in thoughts he faltered, not able to bring himself to say what he felt. He turned and met Dumbledore's gaze.
"Harry, I am truly sorry for what happened. Such things..." he waved his hand, "such things just go to prove how confident Voldemort has become. Which is both a blessing and a curse." Dumbledore sighed and sat, thinking. A moment passed and he rose, walking quickly to the cupboard where he kept his pensieve. He brought it back to his desk and set it down after a brief pause. Hermione let out a small oh! of surprise and Ron stared at it, baffled. "I have something I think would be best for you to see. I must warn you, though...it might be a bit painful. That is why I have your friends here, Harry. I believe it would be best if you did not make this trip alone."
"What is it?" Harry asked, aware he was about to see one of Dumbledore's memories.
"It is the past. It is what happened when others of our order were confronted with the same ordeal as you. I apoligize in advance, for this is one memory that I cannot bring myself to look at sometimes. But you need to see, Harry. You need to see." With that he brought his wand to his temple and brought out the small strand of silver that he let fall into the swirling bowl. "You first, Harry. Your friends will come along in a moment."
He looked at Dumbledore before slowly nodding and stuck his fingers into the bowl before being sucked immediately inwards into the swirling silver. He jolted forward and rubbed his forehead as he straightened, starting when he found he was staring straight back at somebody who was standing in the same position he had been in a moment before in Dumbledore's office. Somebody with dark hazel eyes.
His father.
________________________________________________________________________
Yeah...okay, I'll admit that chapter was pretty much crappy for Harry. By the goddess, what's wrong with me? I just kept on torturing him...first an hour with Snape and now this! What, am I turning into one of those maladjusted cruel Harry bashers...
...
...
...
...NO!!! NEVER!!!!
Ahem. Okay, that's all. I promise I won't torture Harry for a while now. At least another couple of chapters! And I wonder what you'll all think of the press conference...I'll admit, I don't know why I was compelled to do that, I guess I was just being weird. But yeah, okay. We'll get it done. Promise.
Since the Happy Happy Dance Dance chipmunks are on hiatus, we will now have a word from the Super Duper Highly Intelligent Rock with an IQ of 250...Mr. Rock?
Rock: ::sits there looking...rocky.::
Megx: Stupid rock!
Rock: ::doing nothing:: *I am not stupid*
Megx: Why don't you do anything?! ::kicks rock::
Rock: ::Explodes::
Megx: Yeah...umm, okay. Well, now that I've lost almost all artistic credibility, how about we get on to the next chapter, okay? Grreeeaattt....::Explodes::
KABOOM!!!
Harry: Crap, is this the idiot writing me? I was wondering why I was being tortured so much. Almost as bad as J.K., but at least she didn't kill off Ron or something.
Sirius: Tell me about it.
Harry: Umm...aren't you dead?
Sirius: Hey, it isn't me. Megx is the idiot writing this crap. Like people actually care about her author's note.
Harry: Yeah....okay. I think she has major issues...
Sirius: At least she's exploded now.
Megx: I'm baaacck....::runs over and leaps on Sirius, huggling and snogging him::
Sirius: ::trying to push the crazed authoress off:: Help!!
Snape: ::laughs viciously::
Harry: What are you doing here?
Snape: Shut up insolent child!
Megx: SNAPEY!!! You're here!!!
Snape: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Megx: ::Begins running after Snape:: HAHA! It's my trifecta of hot sexy black-haired guys! YES! YOU'RE MINE, ALL MINE!!!
*three hours later*
Megx: ::Sitting in the laps of Snape, Harry, and Sirius who have been tied up and chained down to Megx's couch.:: YAY! Okay, I think that's all for now. Hee hee...I'll return these three after I've had my way with them. Bye now!
Snape, Sirius, and Harry: ::all scream in agony as the curtain falls::
(Really sorry, but I just had to do that...lol.)