It's clear to me that my idea about Occlumency is a little off, but I'm just having fun with it so whatever. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
hphphphphphphp
Rather than having another frustrating class on trying to separate out his magic colors, Moody showed up to train Harry on how to keep a tighter rein on his magic when his emotions flared.
"Given the amount of red magic you have, this could also prove challenging. You will need to be vigilant that you don't let dark magic get the better of you."
Harry nodded, pleased he didn't have to deal with the ball this morning as he didn't think he'd be able to concentrate with all the chaos of the Occlumency lesson with Snape.
"I want you to get angry enough that your magic releases. From what I understand, this happens often enough, so you either have a right temper or your magic is easily triggered." Moody paced in front of him, his magic eye swiveling to stare at Harry with every turn the auror made. "Think of something that makes you angry. Feed on it. It doesn't matter what it is."
Harry dropped cross-legged on the floor and thought. Snape made him angry. The greasy bat had no patience, was quick to make assumptions and slow to trust, filled with hypocrisy and held onto a grudge like it were his life, but thinking about the Slytherin wasn't working. Perhaps it worked like a patronus, where he needed to conjure a memory? He had never tried to make himself angry before.
He focused on the memory from this morning, Snape attacking him as he entered the classroom, leaping through his memories looking for a hint of weakness, drilling into his past. Harry felt the burn of anger as he thought about Snape snooping in his private life. What right did he have, when the man constantly attempted to discredit Harry and cast him as a liar and attention seeker? Snape hardly knew him and just threw insults at him left and clung to the burn, his self-righteous anger mounting as he remembered all the times his Professor treated him differently because he presumed to know about Harry.
"Hang on to the anger, Potter, and feel the air around you. It sparks with your magic." Moody's voice almost snapped him out of his thoughts, pulled him from the feelings, but he clung tightly.
The young wizard concentrated, trying to feel his anger and the air at the same time, finding that he was completely clueless as to what it might feel like. Closing his eyes, he searched, far less cautiously than he did earlier in the day when attempting to feel Snape, but there was nothing he could find out of the ordinary.
"You have forgotten your anger, Potter. Try again."
Sighing, Harry released Moody was right, and again searched for fuel.
The session with Moody seemed to last forever, and by the end Harry could barely summon a spark of irritation. As he went for lunch, he mused that at least there would be less danger of being lured or something in his Dark Arts class. If he couldn't summon anger, then how could he cast something with bad intent?
Harry was unsurprised when he showed up for his class and the professor was not there. Being resigned to the idea that Snape might show up late, he picked up his training ball from the floor and spent time concentrating on it. It being difficult and Harry being exhausted, it was fruitless.
When Snape didn't show up within an hour Harry made his way to his room for a nap, feeling more drained than before. Tossing his glasses onto the bedside table and removing his robe, Harry climbed blindly into bed and was surprised when his knee hit something hard. Sighing, he pushed the offending object off the side of his bed and slipped under his blanket into a restful sleep.
A loud banging on his door startled him from his slumber, and in his groggy state of confusion he tried to call out, "Coming, Aunt Petunia." but no words were forthcoming. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses and balanced them on his nose, eyeing the enchanted parchment with the words "Coming, Aunt Petunia," scrawled across it.
"POTTER!" Snape's voice seemed to vibrate through the room and the man knocked again on the door, making Harry dash to the door and pull it open. Had he been banging before, or was it a dream?
"Sleeping, of course." The Potions Master sneered, but Harry still couldn't summon any anger- how long had he been sleeping for? It felt like minutes, and Snape had been talking, hadn't he? "-down to the training room. Unless you feel you have been trained sufficiently? Do you care to take on the Dark Lord now?"
Harry shook his head as he stepped out of his room, forgetting his robe and shutting the door behind him before following his teacher towards the training room. How long had he really been asleep for? Why was Snape acting as if Snape had skipped his class?
Snape stopped him in the middle of the training room, turning to face Harry with his arms crossed, "Cast your Patronus charm, Potter."
Harry, mostly awake now, was finally processing things like a normal human being and so he whipped out his wand and summoned up a Happy memory, like the day Sirius said he could live with him, except that one wouldn't work. Neither would the day he escaped the Dursleys, as Jackal had been there and thoughts of Jackal only caused him pain now too, but Harry finally narrowed in on the memory of Remus's one armed hug just before he left.
The only thing that spewed from his wand was a wisp. Frowning, Harry dug deeper- did he just not have a memory happy enough anymore? Even those with Ron were now tainted because of recent events.
"It took longer than I expected to conjure this," Snape had moved to a small wardrobe - a new fixture in the room - and was opening it, oblivious to Harry's plight. "However, I believed it to be well worth the time spent, now more so than before."
Harry's thoughts turned frantic as the familiar creeping cold feeling leeched into his flesh, a dark figure of rags draping off a skeletal frame emerging from the closet. An image of Hermione hugging him as she left only produced a wisp, kissing Jackal, his first hot shower in a year and a half, being offered room and boarding at the inn, the feeling of freedom as he shopped for new clothing, the warmth of Snape's mind brushing against his, his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, the Mirror of Erised, all nothing but a wisp. Harry stumbled back, exhausted, still searching out memories, any memory but nothing would work, were they all tainted with darkness? It was too close now, the shout of another was drowned by ringing in his ears, he would be delivered the kiss at any moment.
Amazement colored his green eyes as a silvery flash smashed into the dementor that held him, chasing it back into the wardrobe nearby. Harry admired the shimmering doe before laying back on the floor, panting and wallowing in sorrow, waiting for Snape's insults to come. Why hadn't he been able to cast his Patronus?
"As I expected," Came Snape's silky voice, "I will need to teach you the lure."
Unable to ask why or what he meant, Harry simply stared tiredly at the ceiling, worrying about his magic.
"Get up and eat this, Potter." Something landed on his chest, "You've had time to rest. We will practice this until dinner. You will watch and learn. Do not forget the lure of dark magic; remember what to concentrate on, Potter. Protection."
Harry bit into the chocolate Snape had given him as he stood, pushing past his fatigue to concentrate on the lesson at hand.
The spell was a lure, a pit of emotions that the caster willingly fed to it to divert the Dementors. Harry, exhausted and emotionally drained, found himself unable to fully cast the spell. Snape's contempt was evident.
After the session with Snape he was hungry, tired, and more than a little grumpy. It was dinner time, and he couldn't avoid sitting at the table with the Head of Slytherin; usually he would sneak to the house elf kitchen and wait for the meal to be finished so he could squirell some up to his room before Snape was called down for dinner by Trigol. Harry had thought Snape would ridicule him about everything from his choice in foods to his table manners, however, it was a silent, painless dinner which he figured he wouldn't mind repeating. It bothered him that he didn't know why, but a whisper same pleasant feeling from the Occlumency training plagued him when he glanced at Snape, the memory of that warm, calm protective layer ghosting through his mind. It was something that Harry found he longed for and questioned- was is something Snape built himself, something he trained for? Would Remus or Dumbledore, men who usually exuded peace, feel the same? Or was it something that he would gain with age?
Realising he had begun staring at his teacher when Snape gave him an odd look, Harry diverted his gaze back to his plate. It couldn't just be Snape that radiated that feeling, he couldn't believe it would have anything to do with his hated professor. Snape had always been hateful and mean- it made no sense for Harry to feel even remotely anything pleasant towards him in any context.
Still, the feeling was nice and having a lack of nice things in his life, he would ignore the cause so he could enjoy the effect. A nice, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was when he returned to his room after dinner that Harry remembered the item he had tossed off his bed earlier that day. A quick lumos helped him locate the object, a book about Occlumency that Snape must have left for him, which was thankfully unharmed from his earlier manhandling. Laying on his bed, propped up by his elbows, Harry paged to the index and started reading the contents by wandlight.
Checking through the chapter titles, Harry found the one he assumed Snape had meant for him to read- it discussed methods to eject 'unwanted visitors'. He scanned through the list of the other chapters for interesting or particularly useful sections, but there was nothing that resembled the information about the strange sensation he had felt with Snape. With a sigh, and being uncertain that he'd want to read such a chapter anyway, Harry tapped his wand against the page to bookmark the chapter on ejection, another which could be about inviting people in, and headed to the library so he could read in better light.
Snape was there when Harry arrived, giving him an appraising look after noticing the young man carrying the 'Advanced Occlumency' book he had deposited in Potter's room. His gaze followed The Boy Who Lived as he ungracefully dropped into a tattered chair and curled up around the book, flipping to a page about a third the way into it. Smirking with a smug sense of self-satisfaction, he returned to research on Protective Magics.
The next morning after breakfast with Snape, Harry picked up reading the Advanced Occlumency book where he had left off the previous night- about a third of the way through the chapter on Cooperative Occlumency - having finished the chapter on Ejection. He was early and had time to spare.
He had finished at least two sub sections of the chapter when Snape arrived. He must have been early, but it didn't matter, Snape wouldn't read his complaints.
"Is it too much to hope you have read the chapter on ejection, Potter? Do you understand now what it is you nearly did yesterday?" At Harry's nod, Snape smirked. "Then we shall begin."
This time, Harry was prepared, offering his mind- the same memory as last time, and unwittingly his surface thoughts and feelings, anxiety about doing it correctly and a desire to feel that pleasant warmth from Snape's mind again. If the man noticed, he gave no indication, instead proceeding just as he did the previous day.
Harry tool in the feeling as Snape arrived, and his heart was suddenly pounding. The desire to bask, to feel and enjoy this person's presence in his mind, to caress the smooth, calm layer of warmth surrounding Snape's bubble was nearly overwhelming. Harry struggled against it, mortification at Snape's sudden crystallized, icy feel helping him overcome his instincts. With a vague sense of loss, he pushed through the feelings, something he was already heavily experienced with doing.
He focused on what the book said. Ejection was not suited for this scenario, as it was a high energy attack when a low energy defense could be used; typically, one would withdraw until they could no further and then use ejection, if it came to it. With Ejection, you yanked the memory or thought or feeling the intruder had focused on, or all at the same time, from the intruder.
Being new, Harry focused on the memory he had handed Snape. It was difficult, warring with his desire to keep him there, but he did it; he grasped the memory Snape was in and yanked, sending Snape's metaphysical form tumbling. He grasped for Harry's emotions, the bold shining beacons they were, and The Boy Who Lived who lived froze. For one terrifying moment it looked as if Snape would grab and read them all, see the longing, the denial and sadness, the confusion that was practically reaching out to the man. He didn't, though. Snape had given him time, and Harry used it, pulling himself together and tugging the emotions closer to himself. Snape was gone.
Harry was shaking, a mess, when he returned to himself, but Snape stood before him looking unruffled and calm. Not a hint of thought or emotion was displayed by the man's demeanor; if he knew what Harry had thought or felt at all through the ordeal he did not give it away.
"You did not see that I had attached myself to your surface thoughts when you pulled the memory, but it matters not. You understood the task and performed as expected." High praise from the Head of Slytherin.
Harry didnt notice, as anxiety had struck, spurring him to recall what his surface thoughts were, but he had no time. "I expect you will take less time to act," Snape said a little stiffly, "now that you understand what you are to do."
Harry nodded, face flushed with embarrassment, how much did Snape actually know?
On Snape's command, he readied himself to receive his teacher, displaying the memory of Remus and himself sitting down to play chess and pulling his surface thoughts and emotions close to himself. Once there, he kept a tight grip, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the feeling of Snape slipping into his mind. Changing focus before he would get drawn in longer, Harry watched the memory - Remus ruffling his hair and he gripping the man's robes - then grasped and quickly yanked the memory from Snape. The man had to reach close him to find purchase, and resisting temptation, Harry swiped them away, dancing around Snape, failing to dislodge him as the man stabilized his grasp on a stray memory.
Harry reached for it, a memory of the previous day's Occlumency lesson, and yanked it away. Snape leapt from it, swirling into the bold glow of Harry's escaped emotions. Gathering his resolve, Harry reached for the three aspects- thought, emotion, and memory- and pulled them close, attempting to fold them into a neat little ball that Snape culd get. Puffs of emotion leaked out, but Snape let go, falling from his mind, and Harry sighed at the loss.
"Again," The man murmured, and Harry wondered if Snape was giving him an odd look.
They continued in much the same manner, with Harry gradually improving and finding that he mainly struggled with his emotions; they were like a massive beacon of glowing cloud; easy to spot and hard to gather, to pull away. Snape could cover himself in them, attach himself to wisps and dance from Harry's grasp. He'd grab hold of a stray thought or memory for stronger purchase when Harry stumbled as he tried to wrest his emotions from the man. His teacher was a bold strategist, and Harry was unashamed to admit that Snape was going easy on him.
Harry was sitting on the floor, sweating and panting, when Snape announced that the lesson was finished for the day. He laid onto his back and stretch his limbs, regretting that in the most recent matches he had hardly paused to savor the feeling of Snape's company in his mind. The matches had been exhilarating, a dance that he found himself eager for once he found the rhythm of it.
"You may like to know there is an order meeting this evening. Lupin should be here." Snape set 'Advanced Occlumency' on the floor beside him. "I bookmarked a section for you to read, Potter. It deals with emotion and the different forms it takes. I expect you to read it before tomorrow."
Harry closed his eyes as he listened to Snape's footsteps disappear, wondering what the order meeting would be about. Would the Weasleys know what happened to him now, did Dumbledore tell them, or would Hermione needle him about it? Would Remus stick around after the meeting?
Tonks showed up this time for his lesson, citing that Moody was preparing for the order meeting that evening. She hauled him to his feet and started training him on evasive maneuvers; rolling, dodging, leaping, ducking. Harry's tired mind appreciated the reprieve.
Remus hadn't shown up by lunch time, much to Harry's disappointment, but Snape's stony presence served as a comfort. The food had been enough to energize him for his final class of the day. He had tried to cast a Patronus again, much to Snape's displeasure, but when all he got was a disappointing wisp he committed to training on the lure spell again.
The effect of the spell did not energize him like the Patronus did. He still felt drained and cold from the the training, having basically hand-fed the dementor. While coveting the brief flashes of warmth from his Occlumency lessons, burying them under heaps of negativity- isn't wasn't too hard, as the feeling was questionable due to it's target- Harry had to feed his positive thoughts, his feel-good emotions into the lure he constructed to protect himself. It kept the creature away, saved him from a potential soul-stealing kiss, but it wasn't an effective method of preventing the sticky cold feeling left by the monster.
Exhausted of mind, body and magic, Harry desperatly wanted to crawl into bed. Eager to see Remus, he searched Grimmauld place, only to find disappointment. The Weasleys, who had plagued the place before his fifth year, didn't bother to show up early either. Had Ron shared his suspicions with his family? Did the whole of them share his sentiments? But that didn't sound right. Ron had taken pains to hide his hatred from them.
Sighing, Harry climbed into bed after requesting that Trigol wake him up should any visitors come.