The following week was a complete blur. Had anyone asked Harry to recall any specific moment from the entire week, he couldn't have done it. He knows he went to meals and classes. He knows that he did things. He took notes and practiced spells and did his homework. He is certain he had conversations with his friends and classmates. But if any one of them asked him to recall the conversations or actions or words on parchment he could not do it.
To say he was rather preoccupied was a bit of an understatement. No matter what he tried, he could not get Saturday night out of his mind. He could not forget what Snape told him, and he could not forget how much sense it made. And yet, he refused to believe it.
Snape had suggested he speak with Sirius. Harry had thought about it. He really had. He trusted Sirius. But the last time they spoke had been in anger. They had never made up. And then, Harry realized that speaking to Sirius would mean that there was something to speak about. There wasn't. Harry was adamant about that. Why waste Sirius' time if there was nothing to say?
Harry Potter certainly didn't like blokes. And EVEN if he did, he certainly, most definitely, absolutely did not like Draco "My Father is a Death Eater" Malfoy. Malfoy was arrogant. Rude. Cruel. And on the wrong side of the war.
No. Even if Harry Potter did like blokes, he wouldn't like someone as awful as Draco Malfoy. He'd like someone much better….like Cedric?
Harry shook his head for the 300th time that week. He wasn't going to talk to Sirius. He wasn't going to talk to anyone. Because he didn't like blokes. And he didn't like Malfoy. He liked Cho. Cho with her pretty smile and hair and laugh and damn good quidditch skills. But he. Did. Not. Like. Malfoy.
So the week was a blur of meals and classes and homework. He and Neville had decided against holding another session until the official lessons began. Hermione had spread the word that anyone interested should attend a secret meeting in Hogsmeade. Once everyone was on board, they would find a place and time to begin meeting.
Neville decided he could wait until then for more lessons. In the meantime, he and Harry continued working on their homework together. At least, Harry knew they had. He couldn't remember what they worked on exactly. But he knew they had.
Friday afternoon, Harry realized he couldn't keep going on in a daze. He had been trying to clear his mind, not only before he slept, but during the day as well. It didn't work. As much as he didn't want to, he knew there was only one person he could really ask.
So after dinner, he found himself heading down to the dungeons. He hesitated before Professor Snape's door and forced himself to knock before he could back out. He heard his professor call out "Enter," and he made his way inside. To say Snape was surprised to see him was even more of an understatement than saying Harry was preoccupied.
"Potter?" Snape asked. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"
Harry rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath before answering. "Well, I had a few questions…about occlumency, sir."
Snape raised his eyebrows and quietly set aside whatever he was working on. "Is that so? Go on then."
Harry sat in front of Snape's desk and thought about how to phrase his question without giving anything away. "Well…um…you know how I am supposed to clear my mind and stuff? Well do you think you could give me some pointers on how exactly to do that? I mean, let's say there is something you don't want to think about, but you just can't help it. How do you stop yourself from thinking about it?" Snape stared at Harry in silence. Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Uh sir?"
"Tell me Potter," Snape began, "Why isn't that you cannot ask questions like these in class? Or, I don't know, perhaps two months ago when we began lessons?" Harry shrugged. Snape sighed. "There are many ways. But I can only tell you what works for me." Snape stood up and walked around to sit next to Harry. "I find it is useful to organize your mind. You can choose how. Boxes, doors, a maze, a library, whatever please you. You can keep like memories together or you can simply lock away the ones you don't want to remember or want others to see. Take the memories you want to hide and lock them away where no one can find them."
"So…" Harry pondered, "let's say there were things I wanted to hide from myself, it would be like having a restricted section in the library?"
"Preciously Potter," Snape said. "It seems perhaps it is possible to penetrate that thick skull with knowledge."
Harry rolled his eyes again. "So like, when you go in front of Voldemort, you lock away the things you don't want him to see behind a door or something."
"That is a little different," Snape said. "The Dark Lord is a master legilimens. When I am in front of him, I can't just hide things behind doors. I also have to hide the doors. A truly skilled legilimens can tell if you are trying to hide something. This normally isn't an issue, so long as they can't access what you are hiding. For you, the hiding would be sufficient."
Harry thought about that for a moment. "So if he knew you were hiding something, what would he do?"
"Use your imagination."
Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. He knew enough about Voldemort to know the kind of punishment he would go for. The sudden realization of just how much danger Snape was putting himself in for the cause, for him, was a bit much.
"Thank you sir," Harry said, standing up to leave. "For everything," he added.
Snape nodded and headed back to his desk. Harry left the dungeons and decided to make his way to the astronomy tower. He wanted some peace and quiet to try out his new technique. Luckily, the tower was devoid of people, blond or otherwise. Harry sat down and concentrated on hiding the things he didn't want to think about—chiefly Malfoy. One by one, Harry took the moments from the previous few weeks and stuffed them into a chest. He piled them one on top of the other until every last one was gone. Then, he locked the chest and placed the key on a shelf. He was sure he wouldn't need it again, but you could never be too careful.
Harry continued to concentrate on this idea for several minutes, making sure it took. When he finally got up to exit the tower, the fog that had hovered over him all week was gone. He could finally concentrate on the here and now.
He made his way back to the dorm, where he and his friends decided to take a night off from homework and just enjoy themselves for once. They joked and laughed and played games. When Harry went to sleep that night, he felt better than he had in weeks. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He cleared his mind without issue, and when he drifted off to sleep, he had pleasant dreams, devoid of blonds, all night.
Saturday morning presented a nice clear day. Harry and the others cheerfully made their way through breakfast and headed out to the grounds. As they made their way to Hogsmeade, Harry realized he didn't know where they were going.
"Hermione where are we meeting exactly?" Harry asked.
"A place called the Hog's Head," Hermione answered.
"The Hog's Head?"
"Yes," he said. "It's similar to the Three Broomsticks, only less popular and a bit off the beaten track."
"Then why not just meet at the Three Broomsticks?" Ron asked.
"Too crowded," she answered. "This is supposed to be a secret remember?"
"Whatever," Ron said. "You're the smart one."
When they arrived at Hogsmeade, they spent some time shopping to, as Hermione put it, avoid suspicion. After about an hour, Hermione said it was time and in groups of twos and threes they made their way to the Hog's Head. They were the first to arrive. They ordered butterbeers in dirty glasses from a suspicious old bartender. They set themselves up by the fireplace and waited for the rest to arrive. Within 20 minutes, the room was full. The poor bartender looked as if he had never seen so many people in his establishment at one time. When it appeared that everyone had arrived, Hermione stood up.
"So, uh, welcome everyone," Hermione began. "So, we all know why we are here. With Umbridge as our professor we aren't receiving proper instruction. This is bad enough with our exams to consider, but…well it's even worse when we consider what else is out there."
"Oh yeah, and what exactly is out there?" shouted a Ravenclaw boy.
"Well, Voldemort," said Hermione. She quickly glanced at Harry.
"So he says," the boy hit back.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry beat her to it. He stood up and looked the Ravenclaw boy right in the eye.
"Yes, so I say," Harry said. "And if you don't believe me, then why are you here?"
"Well, you know," piped up a Hufflepuff girl. Harry swiveled around to look at her. "Maybe if you told us more about what happened last year? In the maze, with Cedric and all."
Harry clenched his fists. "I am not talking about Cedric. So if that is what you came for you can leave."
"Well how do we know you're telling the truth?" the Ravenclaw boy asked.
"How would you know I'm telling the truth even if I told you every detail of that night?" The crowd looked around anxiously. "You wouldn't. That's how. So either you believe me or you don't. But regardless of what you believe, Voldemort is out there. And when you don't believe, you don't prepare. And that's how he wins. He wins when we are too busy fighting each other to fight him."
"And you really think you can help us prepare to fight him?" the boy asked.
"Well, you know I've done it once or twice," Harry said. He smirked as several people laughed and the boy blushed bright red. Harry surveyed the crowd. "Now, I'm not pretending to be an expert. There are spells I don't know and things I can't do. Some of you are even older than I am. But what I do know that you all don't is what it feels like to face Voldemort. Again, if I'm being honest, a lot of the times I faced him, I had help. And a whole lot of sheer dumb luck. But the feeling of being moments away from death, or watching your friends die, I know what that's like. Knowing the spells is only half the fight. You have to be ready. Be strong. Keep your wits. That's what I can show you that someone else couldn't."
By the time Harry had finished, most of the crowd looked rather impressed. He turned and looked to Hermione for a signal on what to do next.
"I think we should have a name for ourselves," Hermione suggested.
"How about Potter's Army?" Fred suggested. Harry grimaced at the suggestion.
"What about Dumbledore's Army?" Neville suggested. "You know, because that's why we got landed with Umbridge right?" He looked at Hermione who nodded her head. "That's what the ministry's afraid of right?"
"That's right Neville," Harry said. "I like it. Dumbledore's Army." He looked at Hermione. "What next?"
"Everyone who wants to join should sign this parchment," she said. "I've charmed it, so if anyone who signs blabs, well, let's just say they'll regret it. Once we have a meeting place and time, we'll get word out to everyone who signed up."
Everyone who was there signed their names. Many told Harry they were looking forward to it. After Cho signed her name, Harry saw her tell her friends to go on as she hung back. He headed away from the sign in sheet to go talk to her.
"Hey," he said. He gestured to the diminishing crowd. "Good turnout huh?"
"Sure is," Cho said. "But I could have told you it would be." She laughed. "More people believe you than you realize. Those few naysayers are just that: few."
Harry shrugged. "A good number signed up that's for sure." He looked over and saw his friends were almost done. "Hey do you have plans for the rest of the day?"
"Oh well, I mean, my friends are somewhere," she said. "But not really."
"Well, um, if you want, you can hang out with me and my friends," he suggested.
"That sounds great Harry," Cho said with a smile. "I'd love to."
Harry, Cho, Hermione, Ron, and Neville spent the remainder of their day hanging around Hogsmeade. They hit some shops, enjoy the sights, and got butterbeers (in clean glasses) from the Three Broomsticks. It felt a bit strange to Harry. Not bad per se, but it was as if Cho and his friends just didn't quite click. There were far too many awkward silences, and it certainly didn't help when Ron attacked her choice of quidditch teams. Harry still liked her, but could he really be with someone who didn't get along with his friends? Maybe it will get better in time, he thought. As they made their way back to the castle from the Three Broomsticks to head back to the castle, Harry realized he had forgotten his scarf.
"Hey guys, I'm going to head back to grab my scarf," he said. "I'll meet you all back at the castle."
"Okay Harry, we'll be in the Great Hall," said Neville.
"It was nice to see you Harry," said Cho.
"We'll have to do it again soon," Harry said, ignoring the smirks from his friends. "Later guys." Harry turned and headed back to the pub. As he made it to the alleyway right next to the pub, a hand shot out and yanked him into it. "Oi! What the hell!?" He turned to see who had dragged him into an alley and came face to face with Malfoy. Instinct made him reach for his wand, but Malfoy stopped him before he could.
"Don't," he said. "You won't need that." Malfoy held out Harry's scarf. Harry snatched it back.
"Why should I trust you? And how did you get that anyway?"
"You have in the past," Malfoy said. As soon as the words left Malfoy's mouth, the box in Harry's head burst open and every moment with Malfoy that had happened this year came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He was barely able to stop himself from reeling over from it. He looked up at the blond and had to resolutely remind himself: he did not like blokes. "And I took it. I wanted to speak with you."
"Just tell me what you want," Harry said through clenched teeth.
"She knows," Malfoy said quietly. "Or she will. Umbridge. She knows you lot were up to something. She has spies all over the village. Whatever it is you're planning, she knows."
"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sure," Malfoy said. "I shouldn't be."
"Then why are you!" Harry yelled.
"Shush!" Malfoy said. He looked around hastily to make sure no one had heard. "Do you want someone to see us?"
"So let me get this straight," Harry said. "You're warning me about Umbridge, but you don't want us to be seen together?"
"Umbridge is awful," Malfoy said. "I don't want her to get her hands on you again."
"Oh how thoughtful," Harry said. "You know who else is awful? Voldemort." Malfoy flinched at the name. "And you want to know who else is awful? Death eaters! Oh wait, isn't your daddy one of those!"
"Shut up!" Malfoy said, blinking rapidly.
I must not tell lies.
"Well it's the truth isn't it?" Harry insisted.
"Yes," Malfoy said quietly. "So where does that leave us?"
"Exactly where we've always been," Harry said, chest heaving. "I think it's time you slithered off to wherever it is death eater's sons spend their time."
"So the past few weeks mean nothing?" Malfoy asked.
I must not tell lies.
Harry stood in silence, struggling with himself. "Bugger off Malfoy," he finally managed before turning on his heel and stomping off. He didn't look back, even though part of him wanted to, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
I must not tell lies.
It wasn't a lie, Harry insisted to himself. I don't want to look back. I don't want to be with Malfoy.
When Harry made it back to the grounds, he paused under a tree before heading inside the castle. He sat down in the shade and put his head in his hands and focused. He took all those escaped memories and piled them back inside the box one by one, adding the newest one on top.
And when he was finished, he locked that damn box with a deadbolt and threw the key into the abyss.
Author's Note: I realize I forgot to include the Dumbledore's army conversation earlier in the story that led to this. Let's just pretend it's there okay! Sorry it's a bit shorter than normal. Grading papers is a bitch.