"...and no new recruits that we're aware of since the last meeting." Harry hadn't been able to get to that one, caught up as he was in preparing for the third task.
"None?" asked Jones.
"Why the sudden quiet?" That from Podmore, who was seated beside Vance. "They've been busy all year, but Rosier's-" Matt looked up from where he's been distracted by Stella. "-report didn't have anything of significance in it, or Snape's. Why's everything suddenly stopped?"
A look passed between Dumbledore, Padfoot, and Snape, who'd shown up late and was standing in the corner, arms folded, and with a nasty scowl on his face; Harry wasn't sure what in the pensieve had set him off, but it was obvious something had. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that; usually the only thing that set him off was Draco, but Draco hadn't featured.
"He's waiting," Snape said. "Everyone's waiting."
"For…?" Bill glanced around.
"The final Triwizard task, we believe," Dumbledore said, and inclined his head at Harry, who gave a short nod back, trying to ignore the eyes that had all flicked toward him. Marlene shifted slightly closer to him, and on his other side, Moony nudged Harry's knee with his own.
"S'pose it's the last chance he's got to use the Tournament," Bill said.
"Do we know what he's planning?" Vance asked.
"Or even who they might be targeting - obviously the Champions are at risk-" Shacklebolt didn't look at Harry, who was grateful for it. "-but it'd also be an opportunity to strike at other important people - the Minister-"
"You really think Fudge'd be a great loss?" the man that looked like Dumbledore murmured, and earned a disapproving look from Mrs Weasley. Shacklebolt continued, undeterred by the interruption:
"-or other Department heads, or high profile attendees. Any one of them could be targets."
"Or all of them," Moody said.
"Constant vigilance," Dora and Padfoot muttered, but Dora continued: "Mad-Eye's right, though. There could be multiple targets."
"What do we know about the task?" Mr Weasley asked, looking at Dumbledore, then Harry, then Padfoot.
"Not a great deal," Dumbledore said. "It shall, of course, be held at Hogwarts - the organisers have requested we repurpose the Quidditch pitch so that it may be used and I believe Hagrid is helping them prepare it-"
"Prepare it how?" Padfoot asked sharply, and Harry sat a little straighter.
"No' much preparation happenin' ter be honest," Hagrid said, rubbing his beard and looking distinctly apologetic. "S'more that I've bin asked ter no' keep it trimmed, and they've had me doin' some plantin' - no one's tol' me what I'm plantin', and they're too small ter tell jus' yet." He shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Looks a righ' fright at the momen', though, I'll tell yeh."
Hagrid was right, too; on their first night back at school, Harry roped Ron and the twins into going for a game of two-aside Quidditch as an excuse to go down to the pitch.
"Blimey, what've they done to it?" Fred asked.
Harry looked out over the shin-high grass and the regular, weed-looking plants that must have been the ones Hagrid helped put there. And, though it was a bit disappointing that there was nothing there to make it obvious what the final task might be, Harry couldn't help but smile:
"Can you imagine Wood's face, if he could see this?"
Fred and George exchanged a look, then began to snigger.
"He'd cry," George said, crying a little himself from laughter.
"That he would," Fred said, then clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Not that it makes much difference for what we need." He swung a leg over his borrowed broom - Angelina had loaned him hers so Ron could use his - and kicked off into the air.
Harry gave the overgrown ground one last, disappointed look, and launched up after him.
"Again?"
Severus held eye contact with Potter - something, in all his years of having known the boy, but especially in the last week - he had gone to great lengths to avoid prolonging.
Potter stared tiredly but steadily back.
Severus could, of course, invade a mind without eye contact, but if the Dark Lord had access to Potter's mind - and he obviously did - then it was best to not let Potter know the extent of Severus' own ability.
Carefully, but steadily, Severus reached out with his own mind.
Potter's expression twitched the moment Severus came into contact with the surface of his mind, and he made a clumsy attempt to push Severus out, failed, then gritted his teeth and said:
"You're there."
Severus inclined his head. Potter's surface thoughts began to race past - strong dislike for Severus being in his mind (and strong dislike for Severus generally, actually), a controlled sort of panic as he tried to find Severus and push him out again, and a litany of don't think of anything, don't think of anything, don't think of anything-
Severus rolled his eyes, and Potter set his jaw and reached for Severus' presence - unorthodox, and what was Potter trying to achieve anyway? - but Severus deflected the attempt and went searching for a memory; he chose Weasley drowning in the lake because it was one they both already shared and so wouldn't be as much of an invasion of privacy, but Potter's mind echoed with shock, anger, horror, and hurt.
Clear your mind, Severus said, for what felt like the thousandth time. Potter's mind bristled. "Remove all thoughts and emotions-"
"That's hard when you're choosing things like-" Potter cut off, teeth bared, and tried to snatch the memory away. Severus let him have it, then pulled up the forest Fiendfyre, which he hadn't seen in the pensieve but knew that Potter had dreamed about before. Potter made an annoyed sound.
Clear, Potter, Severus said again, and then was stunned when Potter shoved him right back into his own mind.
"Why?" Potter asked, breathing hard. He broke the eye contact, dropping his head into his hands to massage what was surely a nasty headache. "I'm not trying to hide things from him, I'm trying to stop him from putting things in." Which was all well and good, but if Potter couldn't hide things from the Dark Lord, then that made him a liability. But, Severus suspected this was not the time or place for that discussion.
"And to do that, you must have control of your mind," Severus said. He remembered his early Occlumency training with Draco and, begrudgingly added: "And to do that, you need to make it your own. Shape it into something familiar, something that is yours, and to do that it must be clear. A blank canvas."
"Is my mind my own?" Potter asked. "I feel it, when you go into my head, but I don't feel him, at least not in the dreams. I can't control it-"
"Which is why you need to learn-"
"I'll learn if you're going to teach me something that's going to help," Potter snapped. "Right now, though, all you're doing is poking me in the brain and making me rewatch my nightmares again." He gave Severus a mulish look and Severus took a deep breath and retreated, briefly into his own head for a dose of the Calming Drought he kept brewing in there, in the hopes it might bring him some modicum of patience.
"Very well," he said curtly. "This time when I enter your mind, I will force you to watch one of my memories, as the Dark Lord does. You will try to block me. Legillimens."
And then he was within Potter's mind again, while Potter scrambled to work out how; the charm worked so quickly there was no gradual intrusion to resist, and no warning. Severus secured his position while Potter flapped about ineffectively. Then, from the depths of his own mind, Severus located a jar of dried horehound amongst his own, very organised store of memories, opened it, and let the memory play:
Mentally, silently, Potter took one look at the forming potions classroom and made a sound that was part groan, part sigh, and then went still. His mind focused, sharpened:
"Very good, very good." That was Slughorn, peering into the cauldron a sixteen year old Severus shared with Mulciber. "But not, I suspect- yes, I'm afraid Miss Evans has outdone you again, Severus..."
The look Lily sent across the classroom was equal parts defiant and apologetic; this memory was from the beginning of sixth year, after he and Lily had- after the mudblood incident. Young-Severus sent her an look just barely tinged with hurt; partly because her potion was probably just as good but not better than his - that was just Slughorn's favouritism - but mainly because she'd avoided him all summer and then rebuffed any attempts he'd made to talk to her on the train.
Mary McDonald gave young-Severus a narrow eyed look, then directed Lily's attention back to their copy of Advanced Potions Making.
"We need horehound," Mulciber said.
"Then go and get it," young-Severus snapped. "Consider it your one contribution to today's lesson." Silently fuming, Mulciber got up and disappeared into the storeroom.
"Five points to Gryffindor," Slughorn said, and continued around the room. "And- oh, dear." There was a puff of smoke and a foul smell seeped into the memory. "Clockwise, Lupin, not counterclockwise… McKew, how are you getting on…?"
"I told you!" Pettigrew hissed, as a young Lupin rubbed eyes shadowed with bags and nodded. Lupin mumbled an apology and then twitched as a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Lay off, Wormy," Black said, and a look passed between him and Lupin, a sort of non-verbal check-in, no doubt.
"Yes, Wormy," young-Severus mocked, twisting in his chair. His voice was low, but it carried. "Poor Lupin had a big night." If looks could kill, Black would have had young-Severus' death on his hands, but he didn't say anything; he'd almost had young-Severus' real death on his hands at the end of last year, and had been touchy about it since.
"So did- Ow!" Black elbowed Pettigrew. "I wasn't going to say anything important, Sirius, I'm not an idiot!"
"The only idiot I see here is Snape." And how young-Severus hated that voice. James Potter wandered back from the storeroom, horehound in one hand, and a snitch in the other, eyes flicking between Severus and the other three. He was missing an eyebrow and had a still-healing cut on his forehead from a… disagreement he and Severus had had that morning.
"Only because you're too short-sighted to see the rest of them," young-Severus snapped.
"Did you just admit you're an idiot?" Lupin asked, hoarse but amused. Black and Pettigrew sniggered and Potter grinned.
"That's what it sounded like to me," he said. "Now, Snivelly, why don't you turn around in your chair and focus on your own potion, eh? Looks like it needs a bit of love."
Young-Severus' previously 'very good' potion was now a frothy green.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"So quick to point the finger," Potter tutted, continuing past to his and Black's workbench.
"There's obviously something in there that's not meant to be," Black said, stepping around Lupin and Pettigrew to peer into young-Severus' roiling cauldron. "You sure you don't have any idea, Prongs?"
"Well, it looks to me like a bit of grease might have dripped in there," Potter said, craning his neck, and Black barked a laugh-
You're not even trying, Potter, Severus said now, but Potter's mind was quiet - there was no curiosity, no indignation, no response at all to either the memory or to Severus. Severus pulled the memory back and returned it to its proper home in his mental storeroom, then reached out for Potter's mind only to find… nothing.
He opened a physical eye and Potter was still seated before him, eyes shut and frowning slightly, and yet his mind was- not there.
Legillimens, Severus thought, and twitched his wand, but- nothing.
"Potter?"
What? Potter's voice was mental, and a little distracted. Moreover, it was coming from within Severus' mind, which wasn't possible; he'd have felt Potter enter, should have-
He sank back into his own mind, searching, and all the while set his Occlumency defences into place; Potter would have to wander the dungeons, which he might be familiar with, but it would buy Severus time to catch up with him before he made it into Severus' office and the storeroom-
Severus felt a light touch in his mind. He moved straight to the storeroom - and found it- empty, except…
Though there was still nothing out of place, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Severus cast out his Occlumency like a net, drew it tight, and shoved.
Through his physical ears, he heard Potter's breath stutter and him make a small, pained sound which he took to mean Potter was out.
Severus opened his own eyes and glared. Potter was blinking and rubbing his head like he had a headache.
"What was that?" Severus snapped, voice sounding winded.
"You tell me," Potter replied in the same tone, and Severus bristled; Severus hadn't pushed him out with the intention to hurt him, but he hadn't been gentle, so Potter should have been hurting. Near incapacitated, in fact, and yet Potter was upright and scowling at him. Severus reached for his mental Calming Draught.
"Did you intend to invade my mind?" Severus asked.
Potter's face said it all; his expression flickered from surprised, to thoughtful, to comprehending, and then, finally, to wary.
"No," he said at last. "I thought I was still in the memory." And perhaps he had been; perhaps he'd tagged along with the memory when Severus recalled it and returned it to his mental storeroom.
Potter squinted a little, expression considering and much too easy to read:
"I hope you are not trying to re-enter it," Severus said, tightening his Occlumency defences with a thought, and bracing for an attempted invasion.
"No," Potter said, too quickly.
Liar, Severus thought, and gave Potter a dangerous look, though he did not relax his Occlumency.
Severus had never feared Potter before. He'd feared for those close to him - like Draco, with Lily as the tragic example - and on one or two occasions he'd feared for him, but arrogant, insouciant Potter who was not untalented, but whom was certainly no prodigy, who'd been horrified by the spell Sectumsempra, and who was utterly predictable most of the time, had never scared him before.
He scared Severus now, though.
"You recovered from the eviction from my mind quickly," Severus said, when he was certain nothing in his voice would give him away. "It was a familiar sensation, I assume."
Guardedly, Potter nodded.
"The Dark Lord?"
Potter gave another nod.
"What did you see when you were within my mind?" Severus asked.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me," Severus snapped. "Legillimens."
Potter twitched and then Severus was seeing with mental eyes and not his physical ones. He rifled through Potter's surface thoughts and feelings - discomfort from the sudden intrusion being foremost amongst them - searching deeper and deeper until he found his most recent memories.
Get out, Potter said, and pushed ineffectively; Severus swatted him away and opened the one he wanted:
Only... Potter was as absent from it as he had been to Severus; Potter's memory was a confused version of Severus' memory of trying to find Potter in the storeroom and being unable to, of pushing-
Severus didn't hear whatever spell Potter used, but he suspected a Knockback jinx or something similar; Severus' physical body and the chair behind his desk went scraping back and thudded into the wall with enough force to shake several jars and clumps of potions ingredients onto the floor. Several shattered with a crash. The shock of it dragged Severus back into his own mind and Potter slumped forward, clutching his head.
The office was quiet for a long while, but for Potter's rough breathing.
"What was that?" Potter asked after a moment, voice hoarse and angry.
"I needed to know what you saw while you were within my mind," Severus said.
"I already told you - nothing!" But it was not nothing, not quite, though thankfully Potter hadn't seen any memories of consequence. Potter kneaded his temples.
"Get out," Severus told him.
"Fine," Potter said, pushing unsteadily to his feet. He staggered a little and pressed a hand to his head, wincing. When he noticed he had Severus' attention, he scowled, straightened, and left, skirting the spreading puddles on the floor.
Once the door had closed behind him, Severus rubbed his own temples and reached for his box of Floo powder.
"Clear your mind," Harry groused into a cushion. He'd got back maybe five minutes before, collapsed onto the Room's couch, and pulled a cushion onto his face and proceeded to give them a very, very brief version of what had happened in his first Occlumency lesson with Snape; apparently, he had the beginnings of a migraine and after hearing about it, Ron couldn't blame him. "Bloody rubbish."
"Severus is a talented Occlumens," Malfoy said, from his seat beside Ginny. "I very much doubt it's rubbish, Potter. Perhaps Severus just needed to explain himself better-"
"Or, maybe it was rubbish," Ron offered. Harry made an affirmative sound and Malfoy shot Ron a look; they both knew it wasn't rubbish, of course, but they had no good reason to know that as far as the others were concerned, and Ron thought it might make Harry feel better if they just agreed with him. Ron shrugged at him and Draco pressed his lips together and turned back to Harry.
"I don't think it's likely to be complete rubbish," Hermione said, and Malfoy shot Ron a vindicated look. Ron's mouth twitched. "I read quite a bit about Occlumency when I was seeing that mind healer after last year, and again when you said you'd be learning it, Harry. Everything I've read suggests it's all about having a well-organised mind, so it would make sense to start with a blank slate. Maybe that's what he meant."
"Exactly," Malfoy said. "Occlumency's an art, Potter. Don't expect to understand it all perfectly after one lesson." Ron pulled a face at him.
"I'm no better off than when I started," Harry said, voice muffled by his cushion. "All he cared about to start with was whether I could stop him from going through my thoughts-"
"That's a good place to start," Malfoy said.
"No it isn't," Ginny said. "Harry's problem isn't that Voldemort's getting information, it's that he's putting things in."
"That's what I said!" Harry said, pointing in her general direction.
"Yes," Malfoy said, apparently unable to help himself, "but if he can't access your thoughts at all, then he can't add things in, and he calso can't take information in the future. So Severus' method makes sense as a starting point."
"I think so too," Hermione jumped in, eyeing Ginny and then Harry, who'd finally dropped the cushion to glower blearily at Malfoy. "But even if it didn't, you said he listened to you and moved onto putting something into your head, didn't you-"
"Yeah," Harry said, flopping down again. "A memory that my parents were in…"
"Snape had a memory of your parents?" Ron asked. Harry grunted.
"Yeah. And I don't know why he chose it, because of course I was going to struggle with pushing it away." Harry's voice was both indignant and confused; Ron glanced at Malfoy, who shrugged. He and Hermione shared a look too, and Ron gave her a tiny nod.
"Can't blame you there," Hermione said, voice gentler than before.
"Snape did," Harry muttered. Malfoy sighed. "And then- I dunno, I was in his head for a bit, or so he said, and-"
"You were in Severus' head?" Malfoy interrupted, an edge to his voice.
"Not on purpose," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. He sounded defensive about it, and Malfoy didn't look at all reassured. "I didn't even see anything, just- it was like when I'm in Voldemort's head only Snape wasn't doing anything so there wasn't anything to see. And then he went barging back into my head to try to see what I saw-" Harry winced and rubbed his temples. "-and then I hexed him and he told me to get out."
"For Godric's sake," Malfoy said, collapsing back into the couch. Ron wasn't sure which of them he was frustrated with - Snape, or Harry, or both.
"You hexed a teacher?" Hermione asked. Ron snorted.
"He was in my head, Hermione," Harry snapped.
"I would've hexed him too," Ginny said darkly.
"Yes," she said patiently, "but I thought being in your head was sort of the point of the lessons."
"Not like that," Harry muttered.
No one seemed to know what to say, and they sat in silence for a bit, then:
"So, when's the next one?" Ron asked with false cheer.
"There's no next one," Harry said. "Getting help from Snape was a bad idea." Hermione bit her lip.
"Sirius thought-"
"He was wrong," Harry said flatly. Hermione caught Ron's eye.
"You can't keep dreaming, mate," Ron said. "If not Snape, what?"
"You've barely tried this," Hermione said coaxingly. "Maybe with a bit more time-"
"Not with Snape," Harry said, and set his jaw. Ron knew that was the end of it, and Hermione sighed a little but didn't push; she knew a lost cause when she saw one too.
"Weasley has a point, though," Malfoy said. "If not Severus, what's next?"
"There's no guarantee Snape was even going to be able to fix it," Harry said. For a moment he remained defiant, scowling around at them all as if waiting for an argument, but when one didn't immediately come, he slumped and rubbed his eyes. "This is just- how it's going to be, I s'pose."
"Mate-"
"I'm going to practice," Harry said, and pushed off the couch. He stumbled, blinked a few times, then drew his wand and headed down into the training area.
Hermione glanced at the clock and bit her lip; it was already late and Ron could tell she was dying to tell Harry to take the night off and rest - but what would he do, if he couldn't sleep? They were all on top of their homework - Harry, but also the rest of them, and had been for weeks, because they'd all been making excuses to stay up as late as they could (without becoming sleep deprived themselves) to try to keep Harry company.
He saw right through it of course - had from the start - but he'd stopped protesting weeks ago.
With another glance at the clock, Hermione stood and stretched, going to pluck a book off the shelf. Malfoy pulled out a chess board and waved it at Ron, who nodded, and Ginny stood and drew her wand, going to join Harry on the mats.
"I'll talk to Sirius, you talk to Snape," Ron breathed. "Pawn to B3," he added more loudly.
"If Potter was in Severus' head, I doubt Potter's the only one not wanting to continue," Malfoy muttered back. "Pawn to B6."
Sirius stepped through the Floo into Snape's office, took in Dumbledore, already seated in a conjured chintz armchair and sighed.
"It went well, then?" Snape gave him a withering look. Sirius conjured his own armchair and collapsed into it. "What happened? How long's he been gone?" Not long, he didn't think; Harry would probably have tried to come and see him before going back to his friends and he hadn't yet been by, so-
"Not long," Snape confirmed. "And what happened is that Potter wound up in my mind undetected."
"What?" Sirius asked. "How?"
"I suspect - but cannot say for certain - that he invited himself along for the ride when I recalled the memory I'd been having him watch," Snape said. Dumbledore made a thoughtful sound. "Possessive Legillimency," Snape continued, seemingly speaking only to Dumbledore. "And I suspect it's less natural and more learned without him being aware of it."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said distantly, stroking his beard.
"Want to explain to the rest of the class?" Sirius said tersely. "What's Possessive Legillimency?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Snape said, and then curled his lip when Sirius continued to look blank. "What is Legillimency, Black?"
"In simple terms?" Sirius asked, because that tended to be the most effective way for him and Snape to discuss anything at all. "Mind reading." Snape made a revolted sound, but it was Dumbledore who responded:
"Not quite, Sirius. Legillimency is the art of entering another mind. Often this is, as you've correctly identified, for the purpose of 'reading' it. But, though they are far less common, there are other tasks that can be accomplished with Legillimency, and so it is not completely correct to limit it to mind 'reading', as you put it. Lord Voldemort's insertion of memories into Harry's mind, for one. And for another-"
"Possession?" Sirius guessed flatly.
"Amongst others, yes," Dumbledore said, looking troubled. "Severus…?"
"I'm not saying it didn't happen," Sirius interrupted, "because it obviously did. But why would Harry try to possess you?"
"I do not believe it was deliberate. I believe it is something he has learned in order to camouflage himself."
"Is it effective?" Dumbledore asked.
"I could not locate him," Snape said grudgingly. It made sense, Sirius supposed; it had taken Voldemort until earlier in the year to realise Harry could get into his head.
"And the possession-?"
"There was no active attempt to take or exert control," Snape said. That made Sirius feel better, but neither Snape or Dumbledore had relaxed.
"That's good, isn't it?" Sirius asked.
"Empathetic Possession?" Dumbledore murmured.
"When I reviewed his memory of the event, it was the same as my own," Snape replied, with a sharp nod.
"Shouldn't it be?" Sirius asked hesitantly.
"No," Snape said.
"If I am understanding Severus correctly," Dumbledore said, "it might be more correct to say both the memories' events and perspectives were the same?" He glanced at Snape, who jerked his head.
"So Harry's memory was exactly the same as yours?" Snape gave him a withering look. "Right," Sirius said. "That's not unusual though. Not for Harry. When he dreams about Voldemort, he sees through Voldemort's eyes."
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "But it would seem there is more to it than I first realised; I was attributing it to the connection between Harry and Voldemort, but if he's able to do the same to Severus…"
"Right," Sirius said. "Sure. So what exactly is Empatethic Possession?"
"Apologies, Sirius; you are familiar with possession, of course, and how it begins?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "Either there's trust or a bond between parties so it's willing, or it's forceful." At least that was how Quirrell had described it after Harry was visited by the bit of Tom Riddle who'd been residing in the diary, during Harry's second year.
"Enthusiastic and Energetic Possession, respectively," Dumbledore said, nodding. "And there is a third kind as well-"
"Let me guess: Empathetic?" Sirius asked flatly.
"Indeed." Dumbledore shifted in his armchair, tucking his beard more firmly into his belt. "Where the other types rely on permission and force, respectively, Empathetic Possession relies on one's ability to see the word through another's eyes, to mentally assume their identity. From there, they are able to control what they believe - on some level - to be their own body and mind. It does not require permission, and it is not a matter of force either, which makes it exceptionally difficult to detect - they are, after all, you - and also to defend against." Snape grunted. "It is also an exceptionally rare skill, because it requires an enormous capacity for compassion-"
"You would say so," Snape drawled, then looked at Sirius. "It requires a very clear sense of self which most practitioners lose by becoming too immersed in their possessee and wind up trapped or unable to remember themselves."
"And that could happen to Harry?"
"If he's not attempting to take control of the mind he's inside - and it does not sound like he is, or is even necessarily aware that he could-" There was a glance shared between Snape and Dumbledore and the former shook his head. "-then the risk of that happening is low."
"All right, so..." Sirius took a moment to process everything, then scrubbed a hand over his face. "So what, then? Do we try to teach him-?"
"No," Snape said.
"Empathetic Possession's a rather useless talent," Dumbledore mused. "Those with the compassion-" Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes. "-to enable it are not often the type willing to use it deliberately."
"All right, so this is just something we add to the list of things that are a bit strange about Harry, and then we move on? Forget about it? Did you explain all this to Harry tonight?"
"He left... abruptly," Snape said, and Sirius smelled the faintest bit of guilt on him, before it was shoved aside by something grim and unapologetic. Sirius frowned. "In terms of what you do with or about the knowledge, that's up to you."
"What'll you do in your Occlumency lessons with him, then?" Sirius asked. "What if it happens again?"
"It will not," Snape said. "Because I am no longer able to teach him and so there will be no more lessons."
"You- what do you mean?"
"As the Headmaster pointed out, Empathetic Possession is difficult to detect and difficult to defend against, and I have things in my mind that Potter cannot see."
"Like what?" Sirius asked.
"You're not welcome to them either," Snape said, lip curled. He folded his arms and Sirius scowled and opened his mouth, but:
"Severus is right," Dumbledore said. Sirius twisted to look at him. "He holds information that is sensitive, information that may be crucial to our efforts against Voldemort's attempts to return to power, and information that is both. Perhaps he could try to structure the lessons so as to avoid giving Harry any opportunity to use his ability, and perhaps it would never happen again. But the risk that it could is too great."
"Fine," Sirius said. "Snape can't teach him - will you? You're the next best choice after him."
"I cannot," Dumbledore said, "for the same reasons as Severus."
Sirius threw his hands up in the air:
"Because you've got information that's important to our efforts against Voldemort that Harry can't know? He's the one who-"
"The Dark Lord has access to Potter's mind, Black," Snape said. "We could publish anything he knows about in The Prophet and it would be about as secure."
"Severus-"
"Don't Severus me," Snape said, and he smelled frustrated, but also a little shaken, and… protective? What in Merlin's name did he know that he didn't want Harry to? "You're concerned, Dumbledore - that's why you've sided with me on this; I know you think Potter can do no wrong, but in this he's a danger to all of-"
"Enough, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, but with steel in his voice. When he turned to Sirius, he was gentler, sad: "Sirius, you of all people should understand the damage that information or a secret can do in the wrong hands." He might as well have punched Sirius in the face, though Sirius felt it in his chest, a tight, winded sensation.
"Harry's hardly the wrong hands," Sirius said stiffly.
"Not deliberately," Snape muttered and Sirius shot him a look.
"Just as you and I and Harry share knowledge that Severus is not privy to," Dumbledore continued over the top of both of them, "Severus and I share knowledge that neither you or Harry - or anyone else, for that matter - shall be privy to. You may be brought into the know when it becomes necessary, or you may never be."
"So what now?" Sirius asked again, equally angry and desperate. "We give up on Occlumency and let Voldemort keep messing with Harry's head? You keep your secrets and keep our efforts strong until Harry's nightmares drive him mad or he gets himself killed because he hasn't slept in months and it's all for nothing! Have you seen him lately? He's-"
"I have no intention of leaving Harry to suffer," Dumbledore said, holding up his hands. "After our conversation tonight, I have another teacher in mind. Harry may not like the idea, but - no offence Severus - Harry didn't especially like the idea of learning from Severus either."
