A/N: Not a thing to say really, I just like adding author's notes. I'm a sucker for any excuse to write.
Disclaimer: See author's note, wherin all claims to monetary gain are replaced by the simple need to write and a few cheap thrills.
Chapter Eleven -
Legilimency Vs. Occlumency
Before the trio arrived at potions, Harry took a deep breath, and relaxed his mind. He made a concerted effort to forget all emotion, and just be. He didn't like the idea that Snape could read his thoughts if he wanted to, and he refused to allow his most hated teacher have the leverage he needed to get to him.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at the furthest side of the class to Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins. The class was considerably sized down from the year before, as more than half of them had not received an outstanding in their OWLs. Harry was a little surprised to see Neville in the class, and sat down next to him. Hermione and Ron took the desk behind.
"How are you Neville? Didn't get much of a chance to talk to you in Defense." Neville had not been in their Transfiguration class. It seemed he had not received the necessary Exceeds Expectations to get into that class, but Harry didn't want to bring it up to him.
"Oh, same old. I just had my first music class! It was great!"
"Oh really? Who's teaching that?" Harry caught the sound of nearly inaudible giggles from behind them. Neville remained unaware of Hermione and Ron's opinion of his music class.
Neville smiled. "It's one of the witches who lives in Hogsmeade. Her name is professor Fortuna, and she's so cool." Neville sighed, looking a little wistful.
Harry nearly laughed, almost forgetting everything about not feeling emotions. He made do with a wry smile. "She's cool? I've never heard a teacher described in precisely that way before."
"You should meet her, then you'd understand. She only comes in on Mondays, but the rest of the time she plays piano or guitar, and sings with a group called 'The Cat's Whiskers.' They're pretty well known in the Wizarding world."
"Well, I'll have to take your word for it. I'm afraid I don't listen to the WWN."
Hermione leaned forward. "What instrument did you choose?"
"I haven't really decided yet. I'm leaning towards the cello, but the accordion looks like a lot of fun. According to professor Fortuna, both instruments go well with my personality."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Don't choose the accordion. My uncle plays one, and he's awful. I'd never forgive you if I had to listen to you practice."
Neville laughed. "I'll keep your warning in mind."
At that moment, Snape stormed into the class.
"Welcome to sixth year NEWT level potions." He hissed, not sounding welcoming at all. "I will not tolerate anything less than perfection here, as I know each of you had to have achieved at least an O on your OWLs." He sneered, looking directly at Harry and Neville. Harry felt Neville gulp heavily beside him.
"Many of you will not last the full two years of your NEWT level in potion making, as I do not take lightly to laziness or stupidity." Still he was staring quite rudely at Harry and Neville. Harry tried not to let any emotion surface.
He remembered the occlumency classes he had been taking through last year. Snape had been furious and disgusted that he had to teach Harry, and Harry had been horrified and angry that Snape was the one who had been assigned to teach him.
Halfway through the year, Harry had snuck a look at the Pensieve that Snape had been using to hide many of his thoughts in. Snape had caught him, and chucked him from his office, yelling that he never wanted to see him in there again. It had been terrifying. Even more terrifying were the events he had witnessed in the penseive.
But just now, all those emotions he had about Snape went out the door. Harry felt nothing but contented as he watched Snape rant about the laziness of some students.
When Harry critically analyzed Snape's behaviour, he could see that he was trying to get a rise out of him. He wanted to see whether he could crack Harry's façade. He almost felt the anticipation of the Potions master flooding out of his gaze. Harry stared right back.
Snape must have sensed the lack of emotion in Harry's gaze, for he seemed to give up the fight. He changed the subject, and went on to the first potion they would be creating. Every once in awhile, his eyes would spring menacingly to Harry's. Harry felt as if he were absorbing his glare. Turning it into a part of himself.
Harry suddenly found himself standing, rather than sitting. He felt his lips moving, and heard a voice speaking about the properties of ladybug juices. The sound of this voice was wrong.
"Potter are you listening to me? Five points from Gryffindor!" He heard himself say, and the surprise made him leap back into the desk behind him.
He was himself again, and Snape was staring at him in disgust. Harry's back was bruised from the impact it had made on Ron and Hermione's desk, and he winced in pain.
What had he just done?
How was it possible that he had just become Snape for a moment? The thought made him shudder.
Snape seethed with obvious disdain, he was obviously not aware of the mental infraction Harry had just committed. His beady eyes locked on Harry's. "Mister Potter, I would like you to repeat everything I just said for the rest of the class to hear." He hissed.
Harry stared back at the greasy-haired professor. Strangely enough, he could remember exactly what the man had just said. He had been in his mind just a moment ago after all.
Harry's voice was almost shaking, and it cracked a little as he gave is answer. "You said that the properties of ladybug juice in potions are numerous, as it's what's known as an absorbitive. It can take on quite a few of the properties of whatever magical plant or substance it is cooked with. For instance, if you need a lot of unicorn blood, and can only find a small sample, you can cook-"
"That will be enough, Mister Potter. Five more points from Gryffindor for rudeness."
Harry didn't flinch. After what had just happened, he didn't think he really cared about so menial a thing as house points, or whether or not this horrible teacher liked him at all.
Obviously Hermione did care, and Harry heard a small gasp of indignation from behind him.
"Something to say, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, flicking his sharp eyes to her.
She must have decided that it wasn't worth any more house points, because she muttered a, "No sir," and Snape nodded imperiously. He turned away, and continued with his lecture.
Harry tried to focus his mind on the subject at hand, and to keep his head free of emotions, but it was difficult after what had just happened. The fear and frustration sat at the edge of his consciousness, just waiting to attack. He could feel it scraping away at his composureas the class continued.
000000
In the end, the Gryffindor side of the class walked out of potions thirty points lighter, all due to Harry in some way.
"That horrible cretin!" Ron exploded once they were out of earshot. "You didn't once do anything to push him, and he still took points away! I can't believe that."
"Just wait until I tell you what I've done now." Harry mumbled, and dragged his very confused looking friends off to Gryffindor tower at full speed.
"You what?!" Hermione exploded.
"I think I just read Snape's mind while I was in class." Harry said. They were all huddled into the sixth year boy's dormitories of Gryffindor tower, and Harry was getting fidgety.
The emotions that he was now letting flood back into his mind were nearly making him shake with the power of them all, mostly fear and anger. To let off some of the steam, he looked hard at the trunk near the foot of his bed.
Alohomora, he thought, without bothering to point his wand.
He heard the latch click, and the surprise he felt when he realized what he had just done made him more nervous.
"And I think I've just done some wandless and soundless magic at the same time." He said, and looked up to see three very alarmed faces staring over at him.
"Harry, you know you can be a bit frightening sometimes?" Ron asked.
"I'm sorry. I don't want to make everyone nervous. I just think you should all know what I seem to be capable of. I'm not doing a good job of controlling my magic right now."
"Reading people's minds? Wandless and soundless magic together? It all sounds a little dodgy to me." Said Neville. "I couldn't do any of that if I tried."
"Yes you could." Harry said forcefully. "You can do anything I can do, you've just been saying things like that about yourself for so long, that you think it's true!"
Harry let off another burst of wandless and soundless magic, by popping the lid to the trunk open, and summoning his broom, all without pulling his wand or saying anything.
"I'm going for a fly out on the pitch. I'll see you all later." He called angrily as he stomped out of the room.
Harry was literally storming along the hallway. A small grey thundercloud was following him just above his head, looking ready to burst, and many students were nervously tracking a wide path around him. It was all Harry could do not to remember fully what he had seen and felt while inside Snape's mind. Just that one encounter had made Harry realize quite a bit more about his Potions professor than he had ever wanted to know.
Snape had been staring at him... The black hair mussed and the green eyes slightly vacant... Snape had been trying to look as angry as possible... The words he knew he would use in that class against Harry felt like vomit on his tongue... His sneer felt like the perfect disguise... What Snape had really felt, hidden behind all the disdain and hatred, was pity.
Could that be true?
The professor with the lack of a conscience, who was filled with hatred for anything not Slytherin, was feeling sorry for a self-righteous Gryffindor student?
It almost made Harry angrier. He didn't want anyone's pity. What he wanted was respect, and he would never get it directed at him from Snape, of all people.
Of course, Snape still hated him, but the hate was more about who his parents were than who he was. Snape hated him even more because he couldn't seem to follow in the same footsteps his father had. The hate he felt was baseless, groundless, and it made Snape hate Harry even more, because he had made him hate himself. It was all very confusing. No wonder Snape couldn't even figure it out.
Harry stormed out into the centre of the field, swung his firebolt beneath him aggressively, and pushed off, spreading a cloud of dust out in a circle around his takeoff point.
The wind in his hair began to relax him, and the thundercloud above him slowly turned to white, and dissipated.
Harry did three fast paced circuits of the entire pitch, stretching out his hand as he passed the goal hoops, and letting the posts slap against the tips of his fingers like a washboard.
By the third circuit, Harry had come to an important decision.
First, the rest of his friends had to know about the prophecy. By keeping it from them, he would be making the same mistake Dumbledore had made by keeping it from him. Knowledge was power, as are friends. If that were true, then having knowledgeable friends would make him very powerful. And he would in turn, make them more powerful by trusting them with this secret.
The second decision, was that Harry knew he would have to speak with Snape.
He didn't want to do it, nor would Snape be at all forthcoming with answers to Harry's questions. But this pity... that Snape seemed to focus on him...
All Harry could come up with to explain it was that Snape was and had been playing the bad-guy all along to get a good retaliatory performance out of Harry. Somewhere along the way, Harry had truly lost the grudging respect of his Potions master, and all that was left in Snape's mind was the opinion that Harry needed some sort of charity to sustain him as a strong willed individual. This lingering resentment for his father didn't help matters.
Of course, Snape would never provide that charity, so as to continue the hoax that he hated Harry's guts. But he knew that someone else would have to, and that was enough to make Harry very disgusted with himself and with the professor. It was very difficult to understand that anyone could hate and pity at the same time.
An image popped into Harry's mind of a very angry Draco Malfoy on the train station platform. Harry hated him, and yet somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he knew that he also pitied him.
Was it the same?
"Harry, are you all right?"
Harry yelped as he miscalculated the distance of the quiddich poles, and received a jarring blow to his wrist.
Ginny Weasley was flying with him now, and Harry had the feeling that she probably had been for a while. Maybe even since before he had gotten out there. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed her fly up beside him.
She gripped her shining new cleansweep, and looked quite comfortable sitting on it. Her mother had bought it for her as a reward for making prefect.
Harry sighed. If he was committed to telling everyone about the prophecy, then the least he could do was be honest about how he felt. Thus far whenever anyone had asked him 'Are you all right?' He'd always responded with a wave and a 'yeah sure, I'm fine.'
"No, I'm absolutely miserable." Harry answered.
Ginny didn't look at him pityingly, or pat his arm reassuringly. Instead, she smiled.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling well enough to admit that you feel horrible."
Harry had to laugh at that one. It was just backward enough to make him really have to think it through, and straightforward enough that it made sense.
"So, what's causing this melancholy? More of the same? Is it about Sirius?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Partly, but there's more." He looked over to her hovering form, and then over to the tall boxes to the side of the field. "We should take a seat."
Ginny nodded, and they flew over to the tallest red and gold decorated box. Perhaps the choice was for Gryffindor ambiance. A bravery crutch to support his failing nerves. Perhaps it was just where they were used to sitting as students of Gryffindor. Either way, as Harry touched down, he felt a little more at home.
"I have to tell you all about the prophecy." Harry began.
Ginny's eyes never wavered as he told. She did ask Harry to clarify a few things afterwards, but she took the news a lot better than Harry had expected her to.
"It's not totally unexpected, is it?" She said thoughtfully. "We've always known he was after you for some reason. And we both knowhe wouldn't have stopped until you were dead. This just makes it official."
It was a very sensible way to look at the issue, and the conversation died out for a moment while Harry pondered the comment.
"It's too bad about the kill or be killed thing, but at least we know that someone can do it. I mean- I'm sorry that it's you and all, but really- would you rather live for another twenty years, knowing that the people around you were going to suffer? Or would you rather do something about it? In my mind, I have no doubt that I could kill if it was necessary."
Harry looked at her astonished. "You? You could kill someone? Are you sure of that?" He couldn't imagine little Ginny as a cold-blooded-murderer. Then again he reasoned, he couldn't really see it in himself, but it was going to be necessary if he wanted to fulfill the prophecy.
"I could do it if I knew that the people I love would suffer if I did nothing. I'm more than willing to save innocent lives, maybe even at the cost of my own. Of course, this could all be just in my mind, and at the first sight of Voldemort or a Death-Eater I turn tail and run or something."
Harry chuckled. "I think everyone who was involved in the Department of Mysteries battle really proved themselves. I don't think you need to doubt your own bravery."
"Harry, I've wanted to thank you for awhile now, and I guess I just never got around to it..." She trailed off.
"What?" Harry scoffed, "You want to thank me for putting you all into a stupid and dangerous position?" He glared at her. "No thanks needed, all in a day's work."
"No need to be churlish." Ginny looked slightly offended. "Anyhow, that's not what I meant. I meant when the Death-Eaters threatened to... to torture me... You know, in the Department of Mysteries. You... you stepped in front of me, and I just wanted to thank you."
Harry hadn't thought all that much about it, but the fear that Ginny must have felt at being singled out for torture... he didn't really want to think about it.
"You're welcome." He mumbled.
"Right, let's talk about something else." Ginny suddenly said loudly.
"All right..." Harry racked his brains for a topic that didn't involve either one of them and their problems.
"You know Ron's been made Quiddich captain, so you won't have to buy your way on to the team this year, family ties and all of that."
Ginny growled. "I'm going to try out like all the rest, you moronic git."
Harry laughed. "Don't worry, you're pretty much guaranteed one of the chaser spots this year, Captain Ron or no. After all that awesome seeking you did last year, anyone would be insane not to want you on the team."
They chatted until just before dinner, then made their way up to the castle. Harry vowed he would apologize to Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and he said he would need Ginny's support to tell them all about the prophecy. He had a feeling that they wouldn't take the news quite as well as she had. In fact she would probably be the only level-headed person left in the room, including Harry himself.
Ginny had been genuinely surprised that she had been the first friend Harry had told about the prophecy, and she suggested the news be kept among the Department of Mysteries group. That meant including Luna in the discussion.
Harry decided she had a point, and that they all deserved to know just what they had been fighting for.
