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Harry scratched irritably at the chain around his neck. It was a thick thing, like an industrial chain rather than a necklace, and it was heavy. He wasn't sure what it was made out of but it felt like metal, only it was a black he had never seen in any metal and it didn't shine much. If one looked very closely they might see the thin runes that were carved meticulously into each link.
He hated the thing, but it was all that stood between his true appearance and the rest of the world and so he would wear it, no matter how uncomfortable it was. He and Sirius had worked tirelessly on creating it, and he had taken an interest in runes because of it. They were supposedly very difficult to master, but it seemed to come as naturally to him as flying on a broom had. Sirius had looked at him as though he was insane when he had commented on how easy they were to understand.
The research it had required to be able to create the damnable thing had been exhausting. Harry had nearly given up and asked Hermione for help, but he was glad now that he hadn't. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. It was better that she didn't know. It was better that no one else knew. He looked out the window at the passing scenery. It bothered him to keep such a big secret from his best friends, but he was glad at least that his godfather knew and accepted him regardless. It made it all much easier to bear.
The Dursleys knew as well of course, but that was different, though he wasn't sure yet as to why. They had made an effort to be an actual family since the summer after third year. The ministry had called back the dementors from the hunt for Sirius that year, but a couple of them had come around that summer and in their hunger for souls had nearly kissed Dudley. Harry had almost been expelled when he saved him, and had never expected anything good to come of the incident, having run off to Diagon Alley on the night bus while his relatives were still in shock from Dudley telling them what had happened. So it had come as a pleasant surprise to come home after the hell of the triwizard tournament and Cedric's death in fourth year to find them being civil to him. It had been a nice distraction from his problems until Sirius sent him that book on becoming an animagus and he had botched it by jumping the gun without taking the necessary precautions.
Like that potion to keep his animagus form from physically affecting his human body.
He sighed. It was too late now, as there was nothing to reverse the damage once it had been done. It didn't really bother him too much anyways, and he supposed it could possibly give him an advantage against Voldemort when he was next forced to face him. The only thing that was really an issue would be having to keep it a secret from everyone. But he would manage.
Laughter cut through his thoughts as the compartment door opened and he chastised himself for not having paid enough attention to have noticed it sooner. Hermione came in with a grin, dragging Ron in by the hand behind her. Ron plopped into the bench across from Harry and Hermione sat next to the redhead with a bit more grace. He eyed the smoky forms that shifted with his friends. An odd side effect of his botched transformation was the ability to see these things. So far as he could tell, they were people's inner animals, and everyone had one. They seemed to match up with a person's animagus form, or the form they would have if they became an animagus. They had the added benefit of showing him exactly what a person was feeling regardless of whether they tried to hide it or not. Each one was also a singular color, which he had yet to find the reason for.
Upon Hermione's shoulder sat an owl. It was a beautiful, regal thing nearly as majestic as Hedwig. It was a warm brown color, and like all of these things, he could see through it just like a ghost. It twittered and made a pleased sort of crooning sound which he knew only he could hear.
At Ron's feet sat a kneehigh floppy-eared dog. It glowed a burnt orange color and panted in contentment, occasionally letting out a happy sort of bark. Its demeanor changed rapidly however as the compartment door opened again, at which it leapt to its' feet and snarled angrily, hackles rising. The Hermione owl also looked agitated now as its' feathers puffed up irritably.
In the doorway stood Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle; here no doubt for their usual heckling of the golden trio. Harry eyed them for a moment, studying the smoky figures that clung to them. A deep grey cat perched on Malfoy's shoulder. Or perhaps, he amended upon sight of the tufted ears, a kneazle. It looked down at him with the same superior gaze that Malfoy wore.
Standing at Goyle's side was a huge, dark brown rottweiler. Unlike the Ron-dog it wasn't growling, and actually looked more bored than anything else. Harry looked at Crabbe and blinked, twice, before he accepted that yes, that was a lavender-shaded bunny sitting on top of his head.
Malfoy smirked down at them. "Hello scarhead, Weasel, mudblood." Ron leapt to his feet with a glare, held back only by Hermione's hand on his arm, and Harry bit back a snarl as his anger burned through his mind like boiling water inside his skull. Outwardly he kept his face blank. He had grown better at controlling his emotions, knowing he would need it this year if he intended to keep his secrets.
"What do you want, ferret?" The words spewed from Ron like venom, and while Malfoy only smirked wider, the Malfoy-kneazle hissed.
"Oh nothing much," He looked down at his nails in feigned disinterest. "Just wondering perhaps if you had heard."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Heard what, Malfoy?"
"Nothing too terribly important, just about the ministry taking a more, hands on, approach with Hogwarts. You know, because of your mental instability so they can make sure you don't go off killing more students like that Diggory boy-"
Harry had stood up and was now directly in front of Malfoy. "Fuck. Off." He growled out, eyes dark. He watched as Malfoy paled and his eyes widened just slightly. The Malfoy-kneazle let out a shrill, frightened sort of noise, and the blonde backed off without further trouble. Harry slammed the door closed and took a deep breath, trying to pull back the rage that had burned like poison in his veins. He sighed and sat back down, firmly ignoring the looks his friends sent him. He wasn't in the mood to bother with them right now, and they had enough experience with his brooding to know when to press him and when to leave him be.
He needed a better reign on his temper, or he was never going to get through the year.
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He felt relieved as his head hit the pillow that night. That Umbridge woman had seemed like a menace, and he was definitely not looking forward to his first DADA lesson this year. Not to mention how Dumbledore had called him into his office and told him how he was going to have Occlumency lessons with Snape this year. It had completely ruined the good mood Harry had been put into after seeing the bright yellow billygoat that symbolized the man's inner animal.
The headmaster had given him a book on the subject of Occlumency and he promised himself to study it extensively before his first lesson. He wasn't sure it would do any good though. From what Dumbledore had said it would take extensive practice before he would be able to successfully keep Snape out of his mind. That meant it was all too likely that the man would find out his secrets. He groaned into the bedspread and sent a plea to the gods that he might be as much a natural with the mind arts as he was with runes or Quidditch.
He sighed and lay still, listening quietly to the sounds of his dorm mates. He heard as Neville's breathing evened out and Seamus' quiet snuffles filled the room. Dean stopped moving about and became quiet in his sleep and then Ron's louder snores began. He sighed again. He felt anxious, and doubted he could sleep properly. He bit his lip and whined worriedly. After another moment of indecision he climbed silently out of his bed and moved to his trunk.
He moved slowly, doing his best to remain quiet as he dug about and found his father's cloak and the map. He tensed as something in his trunk shifted and made a clunking noise, but relaxed again as there was no change in his roommates' breathing. Then he threw the cloak over his form and slipped from the room. He waited until he stood just inside the common room door before utilizing the map, and when he was certain no one was near enough to him for it to be an issue, he left.
He moved quick, sprinting through the halls in such a way that would have had him panting for breath the previous year but now had nearly no effect on him. The improved stamina was one of the things he enjoyed about the changes in his body. His bare feet made little noise as he rushed through the various halls, the glamour-hidden padding on them silencing his feet and absorbing the motion shock. He didn't stop until he reached the moving staircases and leapt instantly; no hesitation in the action. He fell towards the ground floor, the cloak billowing and rising up to reveal his bare feet and legs had anyone been around to see them. He landed on his feet and his knees bent as he did, a soft thump sounding out through the room. He paused, ears working carefully to assess the area around him before he was running again, slipping silently out the front doors and then across the grounds towards the forest, moving even quicker now that there was grass beneath his feet.
Sneaking into the forest was effortless, the place that once seemed so dangerous and threatening now feeling like coming home. He sighed as he ran through the trees, slowing to a more leisurely pace, already feeling less stress. Eventually he found his way to a clearing and found a hollow old log to hide his things in. He placed the cloak and map there carefully, along with his glasses, the lenses of which had been replaced with regular glass to mask the fact they were no longer needed. He stood naked in front of the log then, the only thing on him being the chain around his neck. Until he took that off too.
His form shimmered as the illusion fell and and he placed the chain utop everything else almost reverently. He purred in pleasure now that the glamours were gone, having felt the weight of them heavily the past few days. Then he stepped back, and with a sigh, began to change. It washed over him like rainwater, and the shift went smoothly. His bones creaked and cracked as they rearranged themselves and grew, his skin stretched and morphed into fur and scales, and he fell to all fours.
A satisfied growl rumbled out of his throat, filling the clearing like thunder. It felt good to be in this form. He looked to the trees. He wanted to run, to hunt. This time was for him to be himself, he would worry about grumpy potions professors and evil dark lords and secrets later.
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It had taken some effort to be able to change his classes from what they had been set to be this year. In the end, McGonagall had replied to his owl in the affirmative, and now, on top of his basic classes, he would be in ancient runes, arithmancy, ancient studies, and care of magical creatures. It meant more work, but runes fascinated him and he would need the arithmancy class for help in the more advanced runes. He would have both those classes with Hermione, but not Ron, while care of magical creatures would feature a lack of Hermione, since she had dropped it in favor of muggle studies despite the protests from the boys. He was surprised to note that he would be alone in ancient studies, an optional class he had chosen to take because of the old runic and ritual work they did. It wasn't a popular subject, the classes always very small, but he had expected Hermione to be interested enough to take it.
Harry sighed to himself when he realized they would have history of magic first today. It wasn't the best start to the year, but Harry viewed it as the equivalent of a free period and figured it would be as good a time as any to start on that Occlumency book. Binns always assigned seating so it was doubtful he'd end up near his friends, and as such he wouldn't be forced to explain the book and extra lessons. It would also be a chance to relax a bit before potions, which they had with the Slytherin's like usual.
Mind made up, Harry resolutely bit into his salmon, doing his best to ignore the food that spewed from where Ron sat across from him.
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By the time potions class came about, Harry was in a better mood. From what he had gleaned from the Occlumency book it was likely he would occasionally throw the mind attacks back at Snape as he progressed, and thus see some of his memories. There was a section near the beginning that listed various privacy oaths a teacher and student could enter into together in order to ensure neither could share what they found inside the other's mind, and Harry could imagine Snape agreeing to a few if only for his own interests.
Seeing Snape was an interesting experience, when one was able to view the large black bicorn at his side. It looked mainly like a horse, but a bit larger and stockier, with two horns coming from each side of it's head and connecting into a singular thing a bit above its' neck. This gave the near illusion of the beast having a halo. It surprised him to see such a beautiful creature was the embodiment of his professor and he wondered absently for a moment if Snape had ever become an animagus and was thus aware of his form or not.
The class was uneventful, focussing mainly on review of last year as was common for the first lesson, and the Slytherins were unusually well behaved. Harry was therefore a bit startled when class ended and Snape asked him to remain for a moment. Ron and Hermione cast him worries looks as they shuffled out but Harry only shrugged.
"Mr. Potter, would I be correct in assuming that the headmaster has made you aware of your coming lessons?" The man's voice was as sharp as it usually was when he addressed Harry and the equine behind him chuffed irritably.
"Yes sir."
"And have you bothered to yet read the material given to you?"
"I'm on chapter six sir."
A black eyebrow was raised in what Harry assumed was surprise and the bicorn tossed its' head with a snort. "I expect you to have read through to chapter twelve by the time of our first lesson and to have memorized as much of it as your lowly mind can handle. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Very well. Your first lesson will take place on Thursday. You are to report here immediately after dinner. Dismissed."
He looked away from Harry then, his attention drawn to some papers on his desk. Harry made to leave, but hesitated a moment, thoughts of the privacy oaths coming to him. He paused.
"Sir?"
Snape looked up, seeming genuinely surprised he had yet to leave. The bicorn chuffed again and stomped a foot into the stone floor. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" His gaze was dark and Harry swallowed but gathered his courage and stood straighter, his determination showing in his eyes.
"The book mentioned a few privacy oaths, to protect the both of us from sharing what we find inside each other's heads. I would like to enter into such an oath before our first lesson, otherwise..." He swallowed fearfully, knowing how easily he might piss the professor off. "Otherwise I will have to refuse the lessons with you in favor of another teacher." He was proud of himself for keeping his voice firm and unwavering.
Snape paused, his expression blank, yet the ghostly beast behind him let out an approving whinny. He smirked. "Very well Mr. Potter. I will agree to such an oath as it benefits us both. You may leave now."
Harry nodded shakily and hurried away.
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After potions was his first ancient studies class. He was nervous, as he had never before had any classes without either Ron or Hermione. His nerves only increased when he discovered himself to be the only Gryffindor, the class small enough that they just combined each house into a single class. There were about sixteen other people aside from him, ten of whom seemed to be Ravenclaws, along with two Hufflepuffs, and four Slytherins; none of whom were Malfoy, though he did recognize one dark skinned boy as someone who was one of Malfoy's friends. Zabini, he thought the guy's name was. His inner animal seemed to be a panther, which made him smirk in amusement, that presented itself in a deep, near-black, red hue.
The only other person he recognized was a Ravenclaw in the year beneath him that he had met on the train named Lovegood, who, like him, could apparently see those scaled horse creatures that pulled the carriages. She was accompanied by a large pink bat that sat on top of her head, the breed of which he didn't recognize. She smiled dreamily at him as he sat down a couple seats away from her. The tables were set up to house three people apiece, and his was empty aside from himself.
The professor for this class was a man he only vaguely recognized as someone he had seen in the halls occasionally, as he never seemed to eat in the great hall during meal times. He was an older man, with wispy, greying brown hair that couldn't seem to decide what direction it wanted to stick in. He wore thick circular glasses that made him resemble Trelawney, and made his black eyes appear very large and bug-like. He was short and thin, though Harry knew the man was still taller than himself, and he smiled happily at them all as the bell rang. The ghostly animal that sat on his desk was a yellow creature that looked like a kneazle, but with a lion-like mane and narrow eyes. It purred, showing that the professor's happiness was apparently genuine.
"Hello there everyone!" His voice was gravelly, but strong, and he grinned at them all as he spoke. "I am professor Morris, and I am gl-" He was cut off as the door slammed open and another student stumbled clumsily in. Harry was surprised to see it was Neville.
"S-sorry I'm late, I-"
The professor waved a hand in dismissal. "That's quite alright boy, if you'll just have a seat,"
"Y-yes sir!"
"Now then, as I was saying, I am happy to see you all here, though I will admit disappointment that our class this year is so small, as I had hoped for a better turn-out. It is not unexpected however, as my classes are usually rather on the small side. You will see that this class consists of all four houses and that you lot range in year from third to fifth. I will expect you to keep any house rivalry out of my classroom, as I will not tolerate it." His face grew stern at the proclamation, and everyone nodded in obedience.
"Well then, if you enjoy this class, as I have no doubt that you will, you will be allowed to attend advanced ancient studies and beginners spellcrafting next year, both of which I also teach, and which you may not take without first passing this class. I will suggest however, that if you take one next year, that you take them both. We will cover a great many subjects this year, some theoretical, some practical. Most of our practical work will require you to work with other people. As such, you will be assigned to groups of three. These groups will be yours for the rest of the year, and I will expect you to show respect to your groupmates, and for each of you to do your part." With that he began to point to various tables and list off names, and everyone was forced from their seats.
"Potter, Lovegood, and Curtis! Over here." Harry found himself at the second table back from the front, on the left side of the small classroom. Luna sat in the middle, between him and a tall Hufflepuff boy with long chocolate colored hair that was in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, and eyes so light a brown they were nearly orange. His inner animal seemed to be a fiery salamander that matched his eyes almost perfectly in color and clung to his back. Harry didn't recognize him, but unlike most of the Hufflepuffs, who all seemed to hate or fear him, the boy smiled and reached across Luna to present his hand.
"Daniel Curtis, pleasure to meet you."
His grin was genuine and Harry returned it as he shook his hand. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you too."
Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad year after all.
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The first class passed without incident, and mostly the professor only lectured on what they would be doing that year and what was expected of them as his students. Usually when a professor lectured, Harry would find himself bored, but Professor Morris was engaging and charismatic; easily holding his attention. Harry was glad that despite his physical resemblance to Trelawney, they had nothing else in common.
When he had finished his lecture he had left them alone to get to know the other members of their group. Luna had said hello to them both, apparently knowing the Hufflepuff already. Daniel and Harry had hit it off as well as he and Ron initially had, and he felt that they both would become good friends in time. After that he had gone to lunch, and then Charms class, which had passed without incident.
Then had come Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Harry had both earned himself a detention, and decided that he officially hated Umbridge. He cursed himself for letting his temper get the best of him, but he couldn't have let her make Cedric's sacrifice out to be nothing. After that hell was Transfiguration, and now, finally, it was time for dinner, and Harry was exhausted.
His schedule this year was rather full, and he hoped he managed to survive it without exhausting himself. "Hey Harry?" He looked up from his food to find Ron, sitting across from him and looking down. There was an embarrassed look on his face, and the Ron-dog whimpered.
His eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "Yea Ron?"
"Uh, um, Hermione said," He paused and sighed, then seemed to gather himself up before he looked up and met Harry's eyes before speaking in a rush. "Me and Hermione started dating this summer, and we didn't say anything before because there was so much going on and-"
Harry grinned. "That's great Ron! I'm happy for you guys." Ron spluttered in surprise and then grinned in relief, his inner dog panting happily.
"I just wanted to let you know because, I figure, sometimes me and Herm might wanna go to Hogsmeade by ourselves, and, well,"
"You didn't want me to feel left out?"
"Well, yea." He blushed and Harry snickered.
"It's fine mate. I have a lot of work to do this year so I figure I can just use the times you guys go on dates to study. I'll need it, I think, between ancient studies and ancient runes."
"Ancient studies? Is that that odd class you're taking this year?"
"Yea. I had my first class today. The professor is brilliant."
"Huh, I think Bill might have taken that class... If you want, I can owl him and see if he's still got anything that might help."
Harry beamed. "That would be great Ron!" The redhead shuddered. "What?"
He smirked, "You're turning into Hermione. "
Harry mock glared. "Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am no-"
"BOYS!"
A chorus of "Sorry Hermione!" was heard before they all collapsed into laughter.
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Mid-morning on Tuesday was Harry's first ancient runes class. He sat with Hermione at a small table near the front of the average-sized classroom, which was rather quiet; not much of a surprise when one noted that they spent it with Ravenclaws. The professor was a small, plump woman reminiscent of Professor Sprout, but with dark, curly hair, and much paler. She dove right into things, speaking of runes with an awe that revealed her immense love for the subject, and she spoke quickly. It was a rapid-fire class, where they flowed from one thing to the next very quickly. To Harry, the runes were easily understood and deciphered, and he took leisurely notes as he went.
He was surprised when he realized no one else seemed to have the same sort of ease with the subject, and that even Hermione appeared to be struggling with the fast pace. There were a couple of Ravenclaws that appeared to have a better grasp on the subject than most, but even they didn't answer questions and translate the runes with the same smoothness that Harry did when called upon.
He was hardly surprised to see the excitable professor's inner animal was a hyper, electric-blue ferret that rarely stayed in the same position about her form for very long. The class was exciting, and challenging, and Harry reveled in the true enjoyment that it inspired in him. Unlike most professors, who were content not to assign homework on the first class, she tasked them with choosing a rune they felt the most 'connection' with and writing about its' history, why they had chosen it, and its' most common uses. Many of the students groaned in irritation, but Harry only grinned. He felt he was going to enjoy this class.
His first arithmancy class was later on that same day, and where Harry had immensely enjoyed ancient runes, he found he detested this class nearly as much as potions. Septima Vector was a tall, no-nonsense woman with striking features, long dark hair, and a deep tan. She spoke in direct sentences and looked down her nose at them all as though they were beneath her. She didn't insult people, like Snape, and she didn't feign kindness either, like Umbridge. Rather, she was strictly professional, but in such a detached way that it was clear she didn't truly care about her students. Her attitude contrasted deeply with the huge, dark purple butterfly that represented her.
Where runes had come easily to him, learning the magical properties of numbers was challenging, and he struggled with it. He did find, however, that it was easier when the thought about them in tandem with runes. The way that the numbers affected various runes came to him almost instinctively, though he found what he thought to be occasionally at odds with what Professor Vector was telling them.
She seemed almost giddy when she assigned a three foot essay on the power of the number seven.
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Harry's first occlumency lesson came too soon for his tastes. He stood nervously outside the potion's classroom, not wanting to knock, but knowing he needed to. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached a hand up to knock.
"You are late, Mr. Potter." Harry started and looked up. Snape stood a few feet from him, and as he watched, the man began to walk down the hallway. "This way Potter." Harry scowled and followed him, deciding not to comment on how he couldn't really be late if Snape wasn't even there yet.
"Where are we going?" They had made their way a bit deeper into the dungeons, and had just passed the expanse of stone wall he knew to be the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
Both Snape and the black bicorn snorted. "We are going to my office. Your lessons are to take place there. I will expect you to remember the way on your own, if you are capable of such a task." His voice was condescending through the implied insult, but it put Harry at ease more than it irritated him. Snape's consistent dislike of him was an island of unchanging normalcy in a sea of confusing and stressful changes.
"Yes sir." They walked in silence after that, and Harry was careful to mark where they went, until they arrived at a large oak door with a great iron door knocker but no doorknob. Snape mumbled something that was too low for Harry to hear with the glamours weakening his senses, but which was no doubt a password of some sort as the door immediately swung open of its' own accord.
The room that was revealed was different than the potion's classroom. There was only one desk, which he assumed was Snape's, that was backed with a comfy-looking brown leather chair. There was an expanse of empty space before the desk that was filled only with a deep red carpet and a couple seats in front of the desk. There was an entire wall of shelves on Harry's left side filled with various books and potion's ingredients, and a closed door on the right next to a lavish fireplace Harry assumed was for floo.
Snape moved until he stood in front of the desk before he turned to face Harry, his face blank. "I believe you mentioned a desire for a secrecy oath? Was there one in particular you intended to use?" The Snape-bicorn snorted and looked at him in a way that betrayed more than Snape's face. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but couldn't help but feel there was much more to the question.
"Um, the ligatae lingua oath, sir." The bicorn made a startled noise, while Snape's face only showed his surprise through the minute raising of his eyebrows.
"That is a rather extensive spell, Mr. Potter." For a moment Harry worried he might deny his request. The ligatae lingua oath was a powerful spell. If done correctly, it would make it impossible for either of them to share what they saw within the other's mind, whether it was a secret or not. They would not even be able to speak of those things at all if anyone else was around. They could speak with each other easily, but could only share information with others if both agreed to it. It was binding, and unbreakable. But then the man smirked, and appeared almost impressed. "Very well Mr. Potter. We will proceed. I would assume you already know the appropriate incantation?"
"Yes sir."
"Then let's get on with it."Harry nodded and they moved closer to one another. They each reached out a hand to clasp the other's wrist, and Harry began, glad that his nervousness did not show in his voice.
"Qui venit in mentem quid ibi linguam custodiat. Iureiurando obligare ad magiae te, et custodiat semper tibi concedo." The words flowed from his mouth smoothly, but slowly, and carefully, as he had practiced them extensively for the past two days.
"Accipimus sacramentum tantum, integrum restituere digneris" Snape's voice worked over the phrase with an ease that came from experience with latin words that Harry did not yet possess.
"Concedo. Sic fiat."
"Sic fiat." The magic swirled around them in a soft gold, then pulled tight and snapped at them, and Harry felt it wrap around his core like a chain. He swallowed as the magic faded, and he tried to grow accustomed to the feeling of the binding oath. The book had said that eventually he wouldn't notice it at all, and it wouldn't hinder him in any way, but for now it was an uncomfortable feeling like wearing clothes a size too small.
Snape coughed and sat down behind his desk. Harry followed suit and sat in one of the chairs in front of it. "Have you read through chapter 12, Mr. Potter?"
He nodded. "Yes sir."
"And are you confident in your ability to recall that information?"
"I am."
"Very well. How does one begin the process of regular occlusion?"
"By learning to control and suppress emotions."
"And how does a beginner best accomplish this task?"
"Through meditation."
"Have you begun this meditation?"
"I-" He paused, unsure of whether to tell him or not, but it was likely he would find out eventually anyways. "I began meditating during the summer for another purpose, but I've continued it since then. I didn't know until I read the book that it was one of the beginning steps for occlumency, but I did notice that I've been able to control my emotions a little better since I started. At least, most of them."
"Most of them?"
"I, my anger sir. It's very difficult for me to control my temper. I've been trying, but..."
Snape offered an understanding nod rather than the insult to his abilities Harry had expected. "Everyone who begins this has problems with one or two specific emotions. For me, it was also anger, though it is different for every occlumens. The more I intrude upon your mind, the easier it will become for you. Right now, your subconscious sees no reason for the control of emotions you are attempting, but as your mind is attacked, it will endeavour to help you, and you will progress, though it may take some time for you to develop proper shields. At the end of each of our lessons, you will meditate with a focus, and when you are done, you will leave. Am I understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Very well then. Let's begin." He pulled out his wand, though Harry had little doubt he could do this without it, and waited for Harry to nod in acceptance before he raised it. "Legimens."
Harry felt the intrusion within his mind like a tangible thing, and he fought against it. He pushed and pulled and shoved, and did his very best to foil the intruder's attempts to see what it wanted, but most of his attempts seemed futile.
An image moved across his mind; a memory. He was small, much smaller than he was now. Uncle Vernon would be down soon. He would be hungry. He was cooking him breakfast. He focused on the eggs. The bacon was forgotten. It was burnt. Aunt Petunia screeched. She was angry. He had burnt the bacon. Aunt Petunia put his hands in the grease and he screamed. It hurt so bad. She picked him up and threw him back in his cupboard. He curled up on his cot. He knew he would not eat today. He wondered when he would eat at all.
With a roar he wrenched Snape away from the memory and threw him from his mind. He was left gasping for breath in his seat. The bicorn roared and neighed with outrage, and Harry rightly assumed from the shocked expression on the potion master's face that he had succeeded only because Snape had been too surprised by the memory to stop him. They stared at each other for a moment, and the shocked look on Snape's face faded to an inscrutable expression. A few minutes passed, and Harry worried he would comment on what he had seen. He had not expected Snape to look into his childhood. But finally the man sighed and spoke, and Harry was only slightly relieved at what he said.
"Shall we continue?" He swallowed nervously and nodded. "Very well. Legimens."
The intrusion was not as striking this time, it moved with apprehension, as though Snape was uncertain he wanted to invade Harry's mind. It was easier then for harry to steer him away from certain memories, at least until Snape realized what was happening. Then he jerked back towards more memories of Harry's childhood.
The memory was of Uncle Vernon this time. His uncle looked down at him with a face that was purpled in anger. He had been dusting and had accidentally knocked something from a shelf. It had shattered. The great man yelled boy and took off his belt. Harry cringed and lay himself over the sette obediently. His shirt was pulled up and the belt cracked into his back like a whip. It hurt worse than anything. It hit again and again until Harry could feel his flesh torn open. His uncle finally stopped and ordered him to return to his cupboard. He hurried to do so as quickly as he could, before he would get into more trouble for his blood soiling the floor.
He managed to pull Snape away only for the man to delve into another memory of Vernon. This one decidedly more recent.
He was sitting on the couch. He had never been allowed on it before. Uncle Vernon sat in front of him. He was stuttering out about how if magic could save his son's life then maybe it wasn't so bad as they had thought it was. Harry wasn't sure what to feel. He had long since given up on having any sort of civil relationship with his relatives. What was he supposed to do now?
Harry finally managed to push Snape from his mind, though it took nearly all of his energy to do so. He panted in his seat. Sweat fell freely down his face and made his robes cling uncomfortably to him. Nothing had taxed him this way since the botched animagus transformation. It was incredible how much physical strain was caused by the mental arts. All at once he felt hungry and tired.
"I think that is enough for today. Timpy!" The strange word made him glance up sharply. A crack filled the air and a petite house elf with huge blue eyes appeared.
"Yes? Sirs be needing Timpy?"
"Bring a bowl of potato soup down please."
"Yes sirs." She disappeared with a bow and a second crack. Harry looked up at Snape in confusion. The potions professor caught his gaze and Harry was only somewhat surprised when he explained.
"You are no doubt rather hungry at the moment, however, you need food that will not greatly impact your stomach, as eating anything that does so would cause you to throw up. Potato soup is filling, and will not cause you any undue nausea."
Harry nodded and then bit his lip. "It was much harder than I had expected it to be."
Snape nodded gravely. "The mental arts are not to be taken lightly. Some are better at it than others, and some excel in one half but not the other, however, there is no such thing as being a 'natural' at the mental arts. To master them requires a great deal of hard work and practice." He paused, and then continued almost grudgingly. "You did well enough for your first time." Harry gaped in shock and then smiled, which only made Snape scowl. "Wipe that smug look off your face Potter or I will gladly remove points."
They were interrupted by the arrival of Timpy, who presented a bowl of tanish cream colored soup to Harry. He sniffed it once, and found it smelled wonderful. He had never eaten potato soup before, and was surprised at how good it was the way it had been made. He had expected something like chopped potatoes cooked in broth, but it appeared the elves mashed the potatoes up completely before they cooked them. It was buttery, and too creamy to not have milk in it. He loved it, and was drinking it from the bowl like it was pumpkin juice before he knew it. He was actually disappointed once it was gone, and surprised that it had, indeed, filled him.
"You may begin your meditation using the fireplace." He blinked.
"The fireplace, sir?"
Snape scowled at him, and snapped when he spoke again. "Yes you stupid boy, the fireplace. You will focus on the fire and use it to meditate."
"I've never used anything as a focus before."
"Well you can start with this! Now get to it!"
Harry glared as he stood up and went to sit in front of the fire as he'd been told. Snape had managed to be mostly civil up till now and he wasn't sure what had set the man off. He settled before the fire with a grumble and took a deep breath to try and calm himself. After a few deep breaths he managed to calm himself to a relatively stress-free state and focused on the fire. He watched the flames dance and twist without reason, seeming alive. He did his best to think of nothing but the fire, and found it not so difficult to do so. The way it moved was fascinating and enchanting, and soon he was lost in a world of flames.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala
Harry returned to awareness with Snape shaking him. He blinked several times, finding that it almost hurt to do so and looked up at the man. His face was unreadable as he spoke.
"I will escort you back to the tower. It is past curfew." Harry blanched. 5th years were allowed to be out until eleven in the evening. He had come here around six, which meant he had been here for over five hours. Had the lesson taken longer than he thought, or had his meditation gone on longer than usual?
"I, ah, yes sir." He stood up and stretched, his bones popping satisfyingly. He groaned, and nodded at Snape as the man led him out. They walked in silence, and Harry contemplated his lesson. Having his mind invaded had been brutal, but he felt more aware of his mind now, like he had discovered some extra limb he hadn't known about before and was just starting to learn how to use it. He wondered if that sharp awareness of himself would fade or grow stronger with time. Then there was the meditation. Meditation made a person more aware of themselves over time, and let a person appreciate their environment and relieve stress. It had also been one of the steps in the animagus process. But his meditation today had been different than usual. He had felt far more relaxed afterwards than normally, and there was a calm fog that seemed to have settled over him. But he didn't know if the reason it was different was because of the occlumency lesson beforehand, or the use of the fire as a focus, and he felt no desire to ask Snape.
They didn't run into anyone along the way, for which Harry was grateful. The last person he wanted to see right now was Umbridge. The calm faded quickly with thoughts of her and Harry suddenly wanted very badly to go into the forest again and hunt. Or maybe swim in the lake. He couldn't do that tonight though. There was no time. He needed to get to sleep so he would be awake for classes tomorrow. He thanked Snape quietly as they arrived at the tower and then went in.
He sighed once the portrait closed behind him, that soft tension that seemed to always press upon him when the potion master was around finally gone. He didn't think he would ever be truly comfortable around the man, whether he acted civilly or not. He looked around the common room, expecting it to be empty, but was surprised when he saw two sets of red hair peeking out from behind the top of a couch near the fireplace. Which of the Weasleys were awake at this hour?
He moved around the couch to check, only to stumble back in shock and trip over a chair, causing it to fall with a loud thump and send him sprawling across the ground; thus startling the two on the couch. For a moment he and they only stared at each other. Then he blinked and moved to get up, groaning in slight pain. They leapt from their seats and moved to help him, righting the chair as they went. He mumbled a thanks and they stood there awkwardly. He looked from one to the other of them, and could tell they were nervous. No, more than nervous, he thought, they were frightened. He swallowed as it finally occurred to him that what he just witnessed was likely illegal.
"I, um..." He bit his lip. "I won't tell anyone." They blinked at him. "I promise. What you do with yourselves is no one's business but your own. Nobody needs to know." He could feel their relief like it was a physical thing in the air around them, and more than that he could see it in the actions of the animals that represented them.
"Thanks Harry." George smiled at him, at least, he thought it was George. His bright purple hyena panting and pacing around his feet.
"We didn't think anyone would be in the common room." Fred mumbled the words, but Harry heard them well enough. The forest green fox by his feet whining worriedly.
"Well," He shifted awkwardly. "Just be more careful. Next time it could be someone else who catches you." They both nodded, looking grave.
"Thanks Harry."
He nodded and fled up the stairs after that. He heard them talking in hushed tones as he left. He swallowed and hurried up to his dorm. He opened the door quietly and leaned against it once it was closed behind him, sighing. He listened to the sounds of his sleeping roommates, and heard the stairs creak behind him as the twins headed up to their beds. He closed his eyes and then moved to his own bed, collapsing on it fully clothed and just barely thinking to close the curtains around him. The chain around his neck clanked as he hit the bed and he fingered it, annoyed. Creating it had been a blast, it was a work of art really, and he knew it was necessary, but damn did he hate the thing.
He wished he didn't have to wear it, that he could walk around as he was and that no one would care. But that was impossible now. He wondered how everyone would feel if they found out. Sirius had thought it was cool, and he imagined Ron would probably react much the same way. Hermione would probably panic, and then go and search for ways to fix him. Maybe she would succeed too, finding something that no one else had ever managed to. But if everyone knew, it was likely the ministry would throw him in Azkaban.
After all, if people saw how his body had changed they would just call him a freak, but if they found out his animagus form was a dark creature, they'd call him the next Voldemort.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala
ligatae lingua- tongue tied
Qui venit in mentem quid ibi linguam custodiat. Iureiurando obligare ad magiae te, et custodiat semper tibi concedo- He who comes in the language of the mind, what is there, observe. Bind an oath unto thy magic, and keep ye always my secrets.
Accipimus sacramentum tantum, integrum restituere digneris- I accept this oath fully, and deign to keep it.
Concedo. Sic fiat- I agree. So be it.
Sic fiat- So be it.
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala