Chapter Twelve

"Hey!"

Harry was beyond happy to finally spot Malachi at the end of the Slytherin table, having been unable to catch any sight at all of him for the past few days since getting back to the Castle.

Malachi smiled, while the Slytherins in the near vicinity glared at him, as they always did whenever he dared to take at seat at their side of the Hall.

"You alright? Did you talk to your dad?"

"Yeah," Malachi nodded, glancing around carefully; "He told me. Everything."

"Yeah? Just like that?"

Malachi nodded, again; "He said I should've just come to him from the start."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't, otherwise we wouldn't have figured out the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"About Grace," Harry dropped his voice to a careful whisper.

Malachi shook his head immediately; "I asked him about that too. He said he's not."

"Well, he would say that, wouldn't he? I asked my mum about it again too, told her I knew it was him. She wasn't happy, and that just made it even more obvious."

"I don't think so, Harry. He just told me the truth about…well, you know. That's way worse than this. He tells me stuff. If she was my –" he broke off, looking around again, voice dropping to a barely audible; "- sister, then he'd tell me. I know he would. He wouldn't lie to me."

"He doesn't have a choice," Harry said, insistently; "He has to protect her."

"Well, then, so do we, so be quiet. People are looking."

Harry could tell that Malachi didn't believe him which was frustrating but at least he wasn't reacting in the same defensive way his mum had done, the day before, when he – having had enough of the secret and time ticking until he would no longer get the chance to ask her again for months – had marched downstairs in the middle of packing and just told her, straight out:

"It's Regulus Black. I know he's Grace's dad."

His mum had rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she lowered the parchments she was looking at to her lap; "Harry, don't."

"It's obvious, Mum," he persisted.

His mum tossed the parchments onto the coffee table and stood, turning away from him, looking agitated; "It's only 'obvious' because you made it seem that way. You think you're the only person that thinks it's so 'obvious' after that stunt you pulled?"

His mum hadn't really gotten on at him about it, him sneaking to the Foundation, after they had arrived home. As soon as they got through the door, she had sent him to his room, telling him that he was grounded and when he had made to protest had told him she didn't want to hear it, none of it, just go, and so he had, thrown by the defeated look in his mum's eyes.

He'd known then, that he'd really, really messed up big time and, yeah, he knew why, now that he'd figured out the truth. And yeah, it wasn't just him that it would have been obvious to.

And, of course, he felt terrible about it. But, still, if his mum had just been upfront with him;

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't even looking, he was just there. If you'd just told me in the first place –"

"Harry, do I really need to tell you why it would be so dangerous for Regulus Black, for someone like him, to actually be Grace's father? Why it would be dangerous for people to know or, even, just think that?"

"Because he was a Death Eater."

His mum was thrown, clearly expecting that she was going to have to either explain or bring up something about Malachi, or Hopkins, or something else, other than the honest truth that he had been a follower of Voldemort once upon a time.

Harry still couldn't get his head around that. How he felt about it. Especially now he knew that they were related. Or, rather, that he was related to his sister. He should be horrified.

But he wasn't.

Mr Black had always treated him kindly.

And, well, his mum had obviously seen something good in him.

"Well, if you know that," his mum went on to say, once the surprise had worn off; "Then you know better than to go around spreading this nonsense. For your sister's sake, if not for your mother's sanity."

His mum ended it with an eyeroll, as she brushed her hair back from her face.

"Look, I get it, I get why no one else can know. But I know now, I figured it out myself, so why can't you just admit it? Don't you trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust – Harry, I swear, if I hear anything more about Grace's father, I'm going to explode."

"Mum –"

"Harry."

And that was that. He'd left the next morning with nothing other than his mum's blatant refusal to just admit the truth. He'd hoped that Malachi might have been a bit more successful with his dad – his dad was way less uptight than his mum about the whole parenting thing – but no, he guessed that was a bust too.

Harry shrugged, still convinced, but willing to let it go for the time being. He had other things to be bothered about, now that he was back at Hogwarts.

He tossed over the parchment he was holding for Malachi to have a look at.

"What's this?"

"My new timetable."

"Yeah, we got one, too. The whole schedule's been turned upside down."

"Really? Second years, too?"

Malachi nodded, taking out his own to compare; "Yeah, look. Potions two mornings a week, now, both double periods and nothing for it in the afternoons."

"Us, too, thankfully only one double though," Harry stated, before he pointed at the classes he actually wanted to show him; "Those are the classes, there, that are the worst ones though."

"Remedial potions," Malachi read, with a frown; "I didn't think you were that bad at potions. Didn't you get an 'E' on the last assignment?"

"It's not remedial potions," Harry stated, carefully glancing around them to see if anyone was listening, but the loud chattering and clattering were ensuring it would be impossible for anyone to hear their quiet whispers; "It's private lessons. With Snape."

Malachi was fighting a smile, glancing back at the timetable; "At seven am?"

"Yeah."

What had he done to deserve that.

"Sounds like a bright start to your day," Malachi said, before he snickered.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Harry rolled up the timetable, with an irritated glance in the direction of the Potions Master, where he sat at the top table next to Dumbledore.

"Why?"

"Occlumency, apparently. Don't know why. McGonagall called me into her office as soon as Remus brought me here. They are 'non-negotiable' and 'compulsory' and I'm 'not to give Professor Snape any trouble'."

"Occlumency? Why?"

Harry had absolutely no idea.

He did wonder if maybe it had something to do with his mum and his nightmares, she had been so freaked out about them earlier in the holidays, even if she tried to hide it. And Harry had quickly, in an attempt to free himself from his impending doom of two mornings a week with Snape, pointed out to his Head of House that he had had to get written permission from his mum before he had been allowed to take on the extra defence classes with Professor Lupin.

McGonagall had smiled, tightly, and presented him with a piece of parchment; a signed permission form allowing the occlumency classes to go ahead.

And so, there was nothing at all Harry could say or do to prevent it, aside from go to Dumbledore and plead his case. Which he had done. To no avail.

The Headmaster had only smiled, offered up a few words of encouragement as to the benefits of mastery of the skill, and sent him on his way, reasserting his Head of House's previous warning 'not to give Professor Snape any trouble'.

They acted as if he was the one with the problem, here, when it was Snape who handed out his detentions left, right and centre. Sometimes Harry wondered if he could even breathe right, in the Potions Master's opinion. And what was this guy's obsession with occlumency, anyway? Every detention he had received, which were so numerous that Harry had genuinely lost count of them this year, it was always books on the same subject that he was given to look at.

Occlumency.

Harry already felt burned out, just at hearing the title, by this point, and he hadn't even really learnt anything about it beyond basic theory.

But with McGonagall, Dumbledore and his mum all arranging this – behind his back – there was nothing that Harry could do but wait and dread his Monday and Friday mornings, where he'd have to drag himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and head down to the dungeons for occlumency lessons he didn't even need!

And dread them, he did.

"We are, all of us, aware of the House Rules. Slytherins stand together. In-fighting is not tolerated, under any circumstances, particularly in cases where the fighting is one-sided. This behaviour is, quite simply, cowardice. And there are no cowards in our House, nor are there victims, and should any of you attempt to make any as such, I am certain you are all aware of the consequences."

Severus glanced around the faces of his Slytherins, attempting to detect any hint of guilt, of culpability, but none shone forth. Indeed, they all had their attention upon him, listening with respect, no hint of defiance whatsoever, and so he went forth, conceding that the culprit would simply have to go free in this instance and a blanket punishment would be sufficient to see to it that such behaviour did not happen again.

"Fifty points from Slytherin, for this behaviour –" there were groans of outrage which he ignored; "- which, needless to say, put us uncomfortably close to, yet another, embarrassing defeat at the hands of the Gryffindor House, come this years departure feast. There is no room for any further slip ups such as this. Dismissed."

Malachi's face positively burned with mortification but there was no way Severus was going to let it slide. Yet, another, incident and the boy had not come to him. Severus did not mention him by name, nor did he even present the evidence – the Daily Prophet front page Regulus had given to him – that would be saved only for the eyes of the culprit, but that did nothing to stop the boy's embarrassment.

Severus didn't make any overt attempts to engage with him following the assembly, it was only when they had run into one another in the dungeon hallways later that night, that the boy had turned to him, almost accusatory when he spoke.

"You think you're helping but you're not. You're just making it worse."

"Manners, Mr Black. And worse, you say? In what way? Would you like to regale me with further incidents that have transpired in the aftermath of our assembly this morning?"

"Everyone knows that was about me. Now they're just angry because I lost them fifty points!"

"You did not lose them anything, Malachi, your Housemates did that, whomever the culprits may be. And they will think twice now before continuing with these, what do you call them, 'pranks'? I will not stand for it."

Never.

Severus would not stand by while a boy, a student of his House was subject to constant torment and harassment right under his nose. He knew, only too well, where such treatment could lead. Even if Malachi were not his Godson he couldn't not intervene.

Malachi returned to his dorm without a thank you or a protest, a typical teenager, Severus was beginning to realise, but he was not offended by the boy's lack of gratitude in this case. He, too, would have been mortified as a child if Slughorn had bothered to do anything about what had happened to him but he knew, now, that perhaps if his old Head of House had done so, he would have thanked him for it, eventually, if only silently, in his mind.

Severus did not dwell any further, now that he had dealt with it, for the treatment Malachi was facing always drew up thoughts of the past, depressing as it was, and his present was already doing enough to dampen his spirits these days.

His life was not different than it had been, perhaps ten years ago, when he had done all of this. Hogwarts. The Foundation. Head of House. His Slytherins. The resources to begin any such projects that caught his fancy. The connections, the status, the life he had always wanted as a child.

All was returned to him – if one ignored the impending doom that the ever-darkening Mark on his arm forecast.

Had he really been satisfied, back then, with all of this?

Yes, he had. He had never been happier. Until Lily turned up back in his life, that is.

Now, it all felt incredibly hollow. As if something were missing.

Because something was missing. Had always been but now he knew what it was and how it felt to have it.

It took all his self-control not to go down to the lab on his first, his second, his third day back at the Foundation, knowing that Lily was to be working down there during the first few days of the week before being dispatched out onto the field with Chesney and Heart.

He did find an excuse to walk by the Bistro - oh the memories that evoked - during a time he was certain she would be in there, and, sure enough, he was right and she was there, sitting amongst their colleagues, smiling and laughing.

Their eyes had met and her smile had faltered and changed, a softening in her expression, and he was tempted to join them, there was enough of them there that it wouldn't seem suspicious, but he held back, returning to his office and continuing with the catch up work that was needed before he could begin any research of his own.

It may have made them feel better, sitting there with her, but it could have just as easily made it worse. And the last thing either of them needed were more rumours, within days of his return to the company, should it be obvious to anyone that there was something there between them.

Severus cast such thoughts aside, heading to his chambers.

With his Friday – and Monday – mornings now promised to Harry Potter and their first occlumency lesson to begin in less than ten hours, he needed all the rest he could get.

Severus was dreading this.

It was entirely unusual for either of them to spend any speaking time together and Severus was acutely aware of the disaster that had unfolded the last – and first – time that he had attempted to, what, reach out to the boy?

There could be no reaching.

But then, everything depended on Severus getting these lessons right and he doubted there was anything he wouldn't do in his attempts to make sure the boy got it.

He could only hope that Potter would be so determined, also.

Harry did not want to go.

He drew the covers up over his head and buried it still into his pillow when the enchantments he had cast to wake him up at six in the morning had gone off.

But he didn't want to make the whole thing any more painful than it had to be, and he was sure Snape would make it such if he were to turn up late, so after a minute of denial, he had thrown the covers from himself and started getting ready, making his way from the Gryffindor Tower down to the dungeons, arriving early, which seemed to please Snape.

A bit.

"Ah. So eager to begin, Mr Potter?"

Harry fought the retort that so was the Professor, obviously, as he was already there too but he didn't.

He just shrugged, treating the question as rhetorical, and began to pull his parchments and quills from his bag.

"No need for that. This lesson will be entirely practical," Snape stated, stopping him, as he got up from behind his desk and headed towards him.

"Oh. Alright."

Harry let his bag fall to the floor with a thud, earning a less-than-impressed look from Snape but the professor said nothing about it, just indicated that Harry take a seat.

"Well, it seems the time has come for formal lessons on this subject to begin. Your assignment some months ago proved that you were ready. Consequently, here we are."

"Uh, can I ask, Sir," Harry hoped throwing in the respectful title might encourage Snape to be more forthcoming; "Why is it only me that's learning it?"

"Because the Headmaster wishes it."

"But why? It's not one of the subjects we actually need, is it?"

"It is a life skill, Potter. One which it is widely believed will be of benefit to you."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I just don't understand the reason for these lessons? Is this supposed to help me against the dementors?"

"Against the dementors?" Snape repeated, eyeing him; "Are you implying that you intend on facing them, Mr Potter? I was under the impression that your run in last year was accidental."

Harry fought not to roll his eyes at how Snape had turned his questions around on him; "No. But I can't help it if they come after me."

"They are not going to come after you, so long as you remain within the permitted places within the school grounds. Now, lets begin."

Harry made to protest, certain that his questions and the reasons behind this had not be answered, but Snape continued seamlessly, giving him no opening and he was tired enough, after having to wake at the crack of dawn to be here, that he didn't push it for now.

If his mum had really granted permission for these extra lessons, he'd just have to owl her again and demand she tell him the reason why.

He guessed it had something to do with his nightmares.

But he wasn't going to tell Snape that.

"You understand the basic concept of occlumency by now, I'm sure?"

"Yeah."

It would be impossible for him not to.

Snape waited, as if for further elaboration, so Harry quickly mustered up a lengthier response.

"It's the mind's defence against an attack, most often used by a legillimens."

Snape lifted his eyes towards the ceiling; "Repeated almost word for word from the basic textbook. Do those words mean anything to you?"

Harry felt himself grow irritated; "They mean that if someone was trying to look into my mind, I can use occlumency to get them out."

"Excellent. That is all I was looking for. To begin with, I shall attempt to do so –"

"You're going to try and get into my mind – no!"

"No?"

"No, you – you can't read my mind. It's private!"

Snape simply stared at him.

"Sir," he added.

"Potter, if you do not want me to see inside your head, then you are just going to have to stop me. That is the entire point of these lessons."

Harry huffed, looking furiously in the direction of the door, mortified that Snape – or anyone – was going to be granted access to his mind. Did his mum really permit this? Why Snape? Why not someone else, someone like Dumbledore, he wouldn't mind the Headmaster looking a bit.

But then, that wasn't totally true, either.

"This requires focus," Snape practically snapped, his patience seeming to wear thin all of a sudden, no doubt picking up on his thoughts; "I am aware you would rather be anywhere but here right now but do not underestimate the value and importance of this skill. It cannot be blundered through in the same way that you have done so with your academic subjects these past few years, a little effort is necessary."

Harry glowered at him, insulted by Snape's assessment of his schoolwork.

This was the most Snape had ever spoken to him since they had met.

Harry found he much preferred silence.

"You may use your wand, your brain, anything you can think of in your attempts to stop me. Without consequence, do not hold back. We need an accurate idea of what your abilities are, so that we may proceed from there."

Snape took a step back, encouraging Harry to stand with a wave and he did so, reluctantly.

"Take out your wand, prepare yourself."

Harry did as he was told, as best he could.

Snape waited a minute, until Harry met his eyes, drawing in a breath and giving a nod. Only then, did the potions professor lift his arm and say the incantation that Harry dreaded, even if he was grateful that he was at least giving the chance the compose himself beforehand.

"Legillimens."

The composure he had mustered did little to stop it. The office was quickly swimming and vanishing before his eyes and then, suddenly, his life, his memories were there, fluttering by in successive flashes.

He was sitting on the Hogwarts Express, his first journey upon it on his way to starting Hogwarts.

He was lying on his bed in the dormitory, laughing with Ron.

He and Malachi were sitting in the restricted section of the library, perusing books about Voldemort.

He was five years old, flying round and round the garden, and his Uncle Sirius was hooting at him from down below.

He was lying on the floor in the living room with Grace bouncing on his chest, giggling.

No!

No one could see where they lived.

Harry fought back, with everything in his mind, he resisted it, trying to push any and all thoughts of his little sister away.

He fell to his knees, with a shout, and the office came back to him.

Snape rubbed his wrist and Harry caught sight of a welch there, now, and realised that he must have hit him with something, and he was mortified though not as mortified as he was that the man had just been inside his head.

Snape indicated with a nod that Harry get back to his feet.

He did so, with slow reluctance, eyeing him; "Did you see all that?"

"Yes."

Harry swallowed but Snape moved on, saying nothing about either the jinx or the memories; "That could have been worse. You did manage to stop me eventually. Though you were dangerously close to losing control. You mustn't panic, in the way that you just did. Composure is essential, you only waste time and energy by flailing."

"You were looking at things you can't see."

"Indeed?"

"My sister…" Harry trailed off.

Snape regarded him, carefully, and Harry wasn't sure what it was he could see there but it wasn't the cool disregard that he was used to.

"We shall try again, Mr Potter," he said, after a moment.

Harry shook his head, holding up a hand; "Wait. You haven't told me how to stop you."

"Indeed. The way you stop me is something you shall have to figure out for yourself."

"You could at least give me some suggestions," Harry bit back. Snape glowered at him and Harry drew in a breath, adding a less-than-sincere; "Professor."

"Very well. The method that I find most effective is discipline, controlling your emotions to the point of detachment. Do not allow yourself to feel, to see, that which you do not want your opponent to access. Other methods include drawing upon memories, harmless memories, that offer little in the way of showing weaknesses or compromising thoughts. Another, still, involves invention of memories; that is, creating false memories, fantasises in your head and offering them up as the truth. A method I'm quite certain would suit yourself perfectly, though do not come to depend upon it if you should decide to use it. By the end of these lessons, it is my expectation that you will have the ability to exercise all three. Concurrently."

"At the same time?" Harry repeated, incredulously.

"Yes. For it is only through utilising all three of these methods that you can keep a legillimens out, whilst at the same time fooling them into believing that you are not doing so."

"Why would I ever need to do that?"

"Trust me when I say that you will be entirely grateful for having these lessons forced upon you in the not too distant future."

Harry was certain, with his words, that it wasn't his mum that been approached about this and, rather, it had been the other way around.

"Is this about my nightmares?"

"Perhaps. Now, prepare yourself. We shall try again."

Harry mustered up as much strength as he could. Pushed away his thoughts, any thoughts or emotions he had about his family, his little sister, and the house they were kept hidden within, tried to muster up pictures of his old home, with his mum and Uncle Sirius, before all this. Maybe, even, he could pretend Sirius was still alive and with them, now.

"Legillimens."

He tried to do it all. All that Snape had suggested. Thought of his old house by the muggle Church, his Uncle Sirius alive and well. Push aside thoughts of his sister – don't think about Grace, don't think about Grace – to no avail. It came up almost instantly.

Himself and his mum were in the living room of their Fidelius-protected home, the memory so recent, less than a week since it had taken place.

"It's Regulus Black. I know he's Grace's dad. It's obvious, Mum."

The office was back, then, so abruptly that it startled him and he wasn't sure how he'd managed to get Snape out of his head so easily, so quickly. It only took a moment for him to realise that Snape had done so, willingly, and when Harry met his eyes after shaking off the haze of it all, the professor looked furious.

"That was pathetic," he spat, with a venom in his voice that Harry had never heard from him.

Harry must have looked as taken aback as he felt, because Snape stopped himself from carrying on, drawing in a breath and turning away. After a second, the Potions Professor walked on by him, and added, not quite as scathingly as before, but still obviously displeased:

"One would think that when it came to the matter of your family secrets you'd make more of an effort to conceal them."

"You can't tell anyone," Harry blurted out.

Snape froze.

"Please, Sir."

Harry was almost mortified at how pleading he sounded. Almost, but not quite, because there were more important things at stake here than just his pride. He had just told or, rather, shown, Snape the truth; that Regulus Black was Grace's father. After his mum so adamantly insisting, for good reason, that the truth of his sister's parentage could never come out. That it was dangerous for anyone to know the secret.

And Harry had just revealed it to Snape, of all people!

Mere days after discovering the truth himself.

Snape was regarding him carefully, having turned back to face him, and Harry's panic only increased when the silence drew out.

"You can't tell anyone," Harry repeated, more desperately this time.

Snape's hard expression softened, unexpectedly, and he glanced away. When he looked back, there was a sincerity there that surprised him, and which left him feeling instantly reassured even before the words were spoken; "Mr Potter, rest assured that anything that passes between us throughout the course of these lessons will under no circumstances be leaving this room."

Harry released a breath, visibly relaxing at the statement, because the look and the words were spoken in such a way that Harry couldn't find it within himself to doubt that the professor meant it.

And he found himself relieved that, even if he was less than happy about Snape getting into his head, at least he wasn't going to be going about broadcasting anything that he found.

Harry attempted to convince himself further, reminding himself that Snape was a friend of Mr Black's anyway, so perhaps he already knew. Maybe he hadn't revealed anything at all.

Snape cleared his throat, looking at him expectantly.

Harry drew in a breath, straightening up, and nodded; "I'm ready."

"Hm. We'll see."

Snape's voice was different this time, less cold. But Harry had no time to dwell on that. Merely a moment later, he had lifted his wand and spoke the incantation.

"Legillimens."

And the memories came flowing forth once more.