Chapter 6 – Occlumency, Obstacles, and OWLs
Harry saw Dudley's nine-year-old face laughing at him menacingly…Uncle Vernon's fist raised as a threat…Voldemort's snake-like eyes staring out of the back of his professor's head…a group of dementors advancing on the Quidditch pitch…Sirius's look of shock and fear as his body arched and fell gracefully backwards…
"Ouch!"
Harry gasped as his hands and knees hit the floor once again. It was Wednesday and Harry's third straight afternoon of Occlumency with Dumbledore. Harry had soon realized that his hope that the lessons with Dumbledore would be easier than with Snape was naïve. It was true that Harry did not have to deal with Snape's snide remarks, but Dumbledore was vigilant in his attacks on Harry's mind. He had been completely unprepared for the power and strength with which Dumbledore came after him. Harry's body was bruised, and his head had been pounding since his first session on Monday.
"That'll do, Harry," Dumbledore said, helping Harry to his feet. "Let's take a break."
Harry collapsed into the chair in the drawing room where they had been working and rested his face in his hands. He felt as though a meat cleaver had smashed into his forehead.
"I'm never going to be able to do this," Harry mumbled under his breath.
Dumbledore sat in an armchair opposite Harry. "You're making great progress, Harry."
Harry lifted his head and looked at Dumbledore. "I don't know what you mean, sir. I still can't block you from getting into my mind."
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Just because I can still force myself in doesn't mean that you haven't improved."
"It sure doesn't feel like I've improved," Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead.
"Let me try to explain it from my point of view," Dumbledore said, peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "When we began just two days ago, Harry, I had to do little more than look at you to enter your mind. Today, I had to use much more energy; I had to focus and fight my way in. It is no longer an easy task. I am convinced that if we continue with these lessons, you will be able to block my attempts completely."
Harry winced as another stab of pain shot through his head. "Will it ever stop hurting?"
Dumbledore observed Harry solemnly. "I wish I could answer that, Harry. Normally the pain does subside. The act of blocking the mind becomes natural – one just does it without thinking. However, Harry," Dumbledore said with concern etched on his face, "you do not fall into any 'normal' category. Your scar stumps us, and I have no idea if you will ever be able to rid yourself of the pain completely."
Harry put his head back in his hands and said quietly, "I'd give anything to be normal."
They sat in silence for several minutes. Harry sat pressing a cold cloth to his forehead that Dumbledore had cast a cooling spell on so it would stay cold. It was the only thing that helped the pain in Harry's head.
"There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, Harry," Dumbledore announced, breaking the silence.
Harry looked at his professor. Dumbledore was sitting with his elbows on the arms of his chair, peering at Harry over his steepled fingers. His bright blue eyes reflected concern.
"It's about the prophecy," Dumbledore continued, watching Harry closely.
Harry's mouth went dry. He had not talked to anyone about the prophecy, but he spent hours thinking about it every day.
"Yes, sir?" Harry asked.
"Have you told anyone?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head.
"I'm glad, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "The less people that know the contents of the prophecy, the better."
Harry nodded; he had no desire to tell anyone about it anyway.
"However," Dumbledore continued, "I do believe there is someone you should tell."
Harry looked at Dumbledore questioningly.
"As far as I know, Harry, you and I are the only living people that know the entire contents of the prophecy. Your parents were the only other people to know. Professor Trelawney has no memory of delivering the prophecy."
Harry was surprised. "You mean the members of the Order don't know?"
"No, Harry. All they knew was that there was a prophecy made about you and Voldemort. They knew it would be detrimental for Voldemort to get his hands on the prophecy, but they never knew why. The fact that Voldemort wanted it so badly illustrated the importance of it."
"And they risked their lives to guard it from him," Harry replied quietly. "Why didn't you tell them?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "It is not my place to tell them, Harry."
Harry shifted in his chair. "You said that I should tell someone?"
Dumbledore studied Harry for several seconds, his piercing blue eyes boring through Harry. "It is completely up to you who you tell. I have no doubt that a time will come when you tell your friends. You have excellent friends, Harry; I know they will be a great support for you. I also know that you are not yet ready to tell them, and they may not yet be ready to hear it."
Harry shook his head at the thought of telling his friends.
"But I think there is someone who deserves to know," Dumbledore replied.
Harry stared at Dumbledore, waiting.
"Remus," he said simply.
Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Harry thought of everything Remus had already been through, and thought he could not add another thing to worry about.
"Why?" Harry whispered, shifting forward and staring at the floor.
"Because he loves you, Harry. You are his godson. I was a fool to keep it from you, Harry, and I should never have kept it from Sirius, either. The people that love you deserve to know…they need to know. We do not only share our successes with our loved ones, but also our burdens. It is hard for you to accept love, Harry. It saddens me that you have spent much of your life without feeling loved. You need to realize, Harry, there are many people who love you. You must let them in. You must share your burdens with them. You must let them help you."
Harry blinked hard. His throat had tightened considerably as he listened to Dumbledore. Harry struggled with Dumbledore's words as they washed over him.
"Do you think you can tell him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
Harry's head throbbed painfully and his throat was so tight it was burning. He looked up at Dumbledore, knowing he could not do it alone.
"Could you help me?"
Dumbledore smiled softly. "Of course, I can."
Harry put his head in his hands. "Okay. I'll tell him."
"Shall I go get him?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded. It would be better to get it over with.
Dumbledore left the room, leaving Harry alone. Harry grabbed the cold cloth and pressed it against his forehead, letting the coolness soothe and calm him. His throat began to loosen, although his stomach was still clenched.
Dumbledore returned quickly, with a concerned-looking Remus.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Remus asked, rushing over to Harry and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Dumbledore said you needed to talk to me."
Harry looked into his godfather's face. Harry saw the love and concern Dumbledore had talked about in Remus's eyes. His stomach clenched tighter.
"I'm fine," Harry said. "I just have something to tell you."
"Perhaps you should sit down, Remus," Dumbledore said, conjuring a chair beside Harry.
Remus's face paled as he sat in the chair. He leaned his elbows on his knees and peered at Harry.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
Harry cleared his throat. "It's about the prophecy."
Remus looked at Harry confused. "What prophecy?"
Harry looked down at his hands. "The one about Voldemort and me...that the Order was trying to protect. The one that was smashed in the room where…where Sirius died."
Remus nodded. "What about it?"
Harry looked at Dumbledore. He wasn't sure how to continue.
"As you know, Remus," Dumbledore explained, "the prophecies held in the Department of Mysteries are only a record. However, the person who hears the prophecy has the means to recall the prophecy despite the orb being destroyed."
"Yes, I understand that," Remus replied.
Harry looked at Remus. "Professor Dumbledore was the person the prophecy was made to," Harry said quietly.
Remus's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. He closed his mouth, swallowing hard. "Does that mean you know what it says?" Remus asked.
Harry nodded, his forehead wrinkling as he looked at Remus worriedly.
Remus looked to Dumbledore, and then back to Harry. "Is that what you want to tell me?" Remus asked softly.
Again, Harry nodded as his throat tightened. He looked at Dumbledore, silently asking for help.
"All right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry nodded.
Dumbledore sat forward in his chair, a pained look crossing his face. He recited:
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'
They sat quietly, Dumbledore's words seeming to echo through the room. Remus had his face in his hands, and Harry could hear the unevenness of his breath. Dumbledore sat, staring at the floor, a frown deepening the lines on his face.
Remus straightened in his chair, looking visibly shaken. He raised his glance to meet Harry's eyes. They looked at each other, both at a loss for words.
Harry stood in the shower, the hot water pounding over his head. He had been standing there, motionless, for several minutes, wishing the water could wash away the pain. His head and body ached from his lessons with Dumbledore and his heart ached from watching Remus learn of the prophecy.
Harry turned the water off and toweled himself dry. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked pale and sickly; his bright green eyes had a ghost-like quality to them. His scar shone brightly, as though it was till hot from being burned into his skin. Harry shook his head at his reflection. He ran a comb through his dark hair and uselessly tried to push his fringe down with his palm. He tied his towel around his waist and headed for his bedroom.
He pushed open the door and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing in his bedroom, pinning some sort of poster on the wall, was Ron…and Ginny. Unfortunately for Harry, the sound of the door was enough to get Ginny's attention.
With one hand still holding the poster, Ginny turned to the door. "Hi Har – oh!" she gasped as she saw Harry, her hands flying to her mouth.
"Ginny, what the -- " Ron began as he struggled to catch her end of the poster. He turned to see what she was staring at. Ron laughed. "Nice look, Harry!"
Harry's face was burning. He could care less if Ron saw him in nothing but a towel, but Ginny was another matter.
"Turn around!" Harry sputtered. Ginny spun herself around to face the wall, her hands still covering her face. Ron chuckled and returned to pinning the poster on the wall.
Harry crossed the room to his wardrobe and pulled a pair of boxers on underneath his towel, and then slipped quickly into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
"Good thing you were wearing a towel," Ron said, still laughing.
"Well, I don't usually make a habit of walking around naked," Harry replied sitting on his bed to pull his socks on.
"That's a shame," Ron said. "We could all use a good laugh."
Ron ducked as a pillow soared straight toward his head.
Harry laughed and glanced at Ginny, who was still standing with her hands over her face. "It's okay, Ginny. I'm dressed."
Ginny turned around to face him, grinning. "Don't worry, Harry. I've got six brothers. I've seen a lot of boys in towels."
"As long as it's only your brothers that you're seeing," Ron said narrowing his eyes in warning.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, Ron. I've actually been sneaking into the boys' showers at Hogwarts since first year. Didn't you know?" she said sarcastically.
Harry sensed one of Ron's overprotective brother speeches. He stood up and changed the subject.
"What's with the poster?" Harry asked, walking over to have a closer look.
Ginny shot Harry a grateful look.
Ron said, "It's one of my posters from home. I thought with the whole redecorating thing, I would donate this to try and brighten up this room."
Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed that it was a poster of Ron's favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons.
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said. "But do you think we could get a poster of a good team?"
It was Harry's turn to duck his head from a flying pillow.
"Good thing you're a Keeper and not a Chaser, Ron," Harry said grinning. "Your aim is awful."
"Is that right?" Ron said grabbing another pillow from the bed. "At least I wasn't replaced by a girl!"
Harry laughed, picking up a pillow. "I wasn't replaced by a girl, you moron. I was kicked off the team."
"And what's wrong with a girl playing, Ron?" Ginny asked, her eyes sparkling and her face flushed. She lunged for a pillow and hit Ron in the stomach.
And so it started. The three screamed and laughed as they swung pillows at each other, taking their battle to all corners of the room. Harry had at first been hesitant to go after Ginny, and focused instead on Ron. But after Ginny landed three solid hits on him, he gave her no mercy. Harry took advantage of the fact that Ron's last pillow to Ginny had knocked her to the floor. He pinned her down, holding one of her hands above her head as he tried to grab the pillow from her other hand.
"What's going on here?"
Harry's eyes shot to the doorway as Ron's pillow hit him squarely in the ribs. Standing with her hands on her hips, and an unreadable expression on her face, was Mrs. Weasley.
Harry looked back at Ginny, realizing he was straddling her, pushed himself up quickly and hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt. He reached out his hand and helped Ginny to her feet.
A smile seemed to tug at the corners of Mrs. Weasley's mouth. "I've never seen this approach to redecorating before."
Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked at the room around them. There were feathers everywhere, a few still floating through the air, and at some point they had knocked over the nightstand and lamp. The quilts had been torn off both beds, likely as a result of a frantic search for more pillows. All in all, the room was a disaster.
"I've come to tell you that we've just received word from Hermione. She hopes to be here by the end of next week," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Brilliant," Ron said happily.
"Yes…hopefully some of her good sense will rub off on you lot," Mrs. Weasley said eyeing the room. "Well, clean up and come downstairs. Supper will be ready shortly."
Mrs. Weasley then walked over to Harry and have him a tight hug. "I'm so happy to see you, Harry."
"Thanks for coming, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said returning her hug. "It's great to have all of you here."
Mrs. Weasley released Harry. "We'll do anything we can to help."
Harry nodded his head and smiled. "I know."
The days went by quickly. Harry spent every morning cleaning, or in some cases, tearing apart, different areas of the house. So far they had torn off the carpet in the entryway and drawing room. Mrs. Weasley was quite happy to find a wooden floor underneath. It was in quite good condition, and with one of her polishing spells, Mrs. Weasley had it looking like new in no time. Ron and Harry had spent an entire morning moving the stuffed house-elf heads of Kreacher's ancestors from the hallway to the attic. They would rather have binned them, but Kreacher went into such hysterics that they decided against it.
Kreacher, for the most part, stayed out of everyone's way. Harry still felt a surge of anger every time he saw the house-elf, but he managed to focus instead on the happiness of the people surrounding him.
Harry was still spending a few hours every afternoon with Dumbledore. His Occlumency lessons had not been any easier and he usually returned to his bedroom for a rest after each lesson with the cold cloth pressed to his forehead.
This is how Hermione had found him the day she arrived. Harry was lying flat on his back, the cloth resting on his forehead and his eyes closed. He felt a weight on his bed as he heard a quiet voice say, "Hi, Harry."
He pulled the cloth off his face and saw a blurry Hermione sitting next to him. He sat up, grabbed his glasses from his nightstand, and smiled. "Hi."
"You look awful," Hermione said, staring into his face.
"Gee, thanks," Harry replied sarcastically, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"How are you doing?" she asked, watching him closely.
He smiled at her concerned face. "I'm fine."
She looked at him skeptically. "So…what's it like being back here?"
Harry shook his head. She was definitely not going to let him off easy.
He took a deep breath. "It was really hard, at first," he said, looking at his feet. "I kept walking into rooms, expecting to see Sirius there, but I'm used to it now. I just really miss him."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you'll talk to me about it."
She released him and he grinned at her. "Like you would let me get away without talking about it."
She smiled. "You usually disappear before I get a chance to corner you."
"That's true," Harry replied. "You did a good job of catching me while my guard was down."
Hermione grinned. "I know."
"But honestly, Hermione, I'm felling a lot better. Remus and I have talked about Sirius quite a bit. He's been really great."
"I'm so happy Sirius named Remus your godfather. He's such a kind person," Hermione replied.
Harry nodded. "With everyone here, I actually feel like I have a family."
Hermione smiled, her eyes bright with tears. She nodded and hugged Harry again. "You do have a family, Harry. We're all your family."
Harry hugged his best friend back. It had felt good to talk to her.
"Hm-mmm."
Harry looked towards the door. Ron stood there, looking at Harry and Hermione awkwardly.
"Come in, Ron." Harry said, releasing Hermione. "We were just talking."
Ron shuffled in and sat on his bed, looking from Harry to Hermione. "What were you talking about?" he asked quietly.
"Hermione just made me spill my guts about Sirius," Harry said. "Be glad you weren't here, mate. You know how mushy she gets," he finished, wrinkling his nose.
Ron laughed as Hermione punched Harry in the arm.
"Well, Harry, I'm glad you're talking about it," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I don't know what was worse: having our heads bit off every time we tried to talk to you, or you not talking to us at all."
"Thanks for reminding me what a prat I was," Harry said sarcastically.
"Any time, Harry," Hermione said smiling.
Ginny came running into the room, her face flushed.
"These just came!" she exclaimed, holding up several envelopes in her hand with a look of shock on her face.
"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione asked frowning.
Ginny swallowed. "Your OWL results."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at the envelopes in Ginny's hand. The OWLs were the exams all students wrote at the end of fifth year. The results determine which classes can be taken during the last two years at Hogwarts.
"Well, let's have them," Hermione said shrilly, as she jumped up and grabbed the envelopes out of Ginny's hand. She threw an envelope each to Ron and Harry, and then sat down beside Ron. She glanced at Ron and Harry, who sat staring at their envelopes, then sighed and tore her envelope open.
Harry and Ron watched her to see her reaction. After a moment she looked up at them. "Go on…open yours."
Harry returned to staring at the envelope in his hand. He had not thought of his OWLs since leaving Hogwarts; he had too many other thoughts occupying his mind. But now that they were in his hand, the importance of them overwhelmed him. The papers inside the envelope would determine his future.
Harry decided he might as well get it over with. He opened the envelope and skimmed over the opening paragraphs. Then, there they were: the list of his classes with his exam results.
AstronomyA
Care of Magical CreaturesO
CharmsE
Defense Against the Dark ArtsO
DivinationP
HerbologyEHistory of MagicP
PotionsO
TransfigurationE
Harry stared at his Potions grade. He couldn't believe it. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and looked at the paper again. It's true, Harry told himself, I managed an 'Outstanding' in Potions.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You look like you're going to pass out."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. He looked over to Ron, who had just opened his envelope. Harry watched as Ron scanned down his page. Ron's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked at Harry.
"Potions?" Harry asked.
Ron nodded his head.
"For heaven's sake, what are the two of you going on about?" Hermione exclaimed.
"I got an 'O' in Potions," Harry said, barely above a whisper.
"Me too," Ron added, his eyes still wide.
"Well of course you did!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You know Professor Snape marks extremely difficult. You were bound to do better on your OWLs."
Ron looked at Hermione in disbelief. "It would have been nice to know that a month ago! I thought I'd be lucky to pass."
"Oh honestly, Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head.
Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry who shrugged in response. The realization that he received all of the required marks for Auror training seeped through Harry. He smiled broadly. By the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, they got the marks they had hoped for as well.
Ginny, who had been standing and watching the reactions of the other three, stomped her foot and said, "Isn't anyone going to tell me how they did?"
Harry smiled at her and held his paper out for her to take.
"Well done, Harry!" Ginny said as she stared at his grades. "Seven OWLs is really very good."
"I got seven as well!" Ron said happily. "Of course, Hermione got all of hers."
Hermione blushed. "Well, yes."
"Well done, Hermione!" Harry said sincerely.
The four spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the OWLs. Harry set Ginny into a fit of giggles when he told her about Ron's disastrous Divination practical, while Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron reminded Harry of how Hermione was sure she was going to fail Ancient Runes because of one missed translation. They laughed even harder when she admitted she got an 'O'.
"I really should send my parents a letter," Hermione stated. "Ron, can I borrow Pigwidgeon?"
"Sure, go ahead," Ron replied.
"Thanks. I'll just got to my room to write the letter," Hermione said. "Want to come, Ginny?"
"Sure," Ginny said, as she followed Hermione to the door. She paused and turned around, "Oh Ron, by the way, Fred and George are coming tonight to talk about that thing."
Ron looked quickly at Harry and then said to Ginny, "Right."
Harry watched Ginny leave and then asked, "What was that all about?"
"Oh, nothing," Ron said, pretending to study his OWL results again.
"Right," Harry said, unbelievingly.
"We're just trying to plan something for your birthday," Ron said nonchalantly.
"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued. He had never had a birthday without the Dursleys, which basically meant he had never celebrated his birthday.
"Oh, no…you won't get any details out of me," Ron said slyly. "But if we get our way, it's going to be brilliant!"
Harry grinned at Ron. Even if his birthday consisted of scrubbing out the attic with his friends, it was going to be his best birthday ever.