Chapter 4 – Finally An Even Keel

They were late to lunch, and the only remaining chairs were side by side. Dumbledore, Harry noticed immediately, was as far from him as possible. It was the Headmaster's first day back in the castle since Harry had arrived, and he hadn't bothered to even speak to him. He indulged in a moment of annoyance over this, but no longer. Professor Snape had yet to use Harry's feelings for Dumbledore to force entry to his thoughts. So far he'd tried Ron and Hermione with little luck, and Cedric, which still got him through once in a while. And Sirius, of course, which got him through every time.

The morning had been spent on Cedric, and it had been exhausting. What was tiring about it, Harry found, was not being hexed. It was afterwards, when Snape bombarded him with questions to which he often didn't have the answers: "How did I get through, Potter?; What was that last image, in the hallway?; A bath, Potter?" The conversation had seemed endless and Harry was more than pleased by the imperative of lunch. He was not particularly looking forward to giving up his afternoon, but it didn't appear that he had any choice in the matter. He ate quickly, and then pulled out Hermione's letter, holding it in his lap to read, and conveniently forgetting that Professor Snape was beside him.

Dear Harry,

The plan is going well. Ginny has been a great help, and so have the twins, though they don't realize it. More on that later.

I'm glad to hear that your lessons are going better this time. I am surprised that you are already at Hogwarts. I guess I just thought you would be getting ready to come here by now. Maybe that is just wishful thinking on my part.

As to Professor Snape, you should tell him right away. It could be that –

At this point the parchment dissolved into sand in Harry's hands and sifted through his fingers to pool in his lap. His head snapped up immediately to see an uncharacteristically guilty look on Professor Snape's face. He'd been reading the letter as well! Harry flushed red quite suddenly, not sure whether to be angry or embarrassed. Anger won out a moment later and he pushed his chair back loudly.

However, he had no desire to make a scene, and as he brushed the sand from his robes, he spoke carefully through gritted teeth, "Hermione's security measure for your protection, Professor." He glared at the man for a moment. "I'll be out at the lake." As he stormed out of the Great Hall, doing his best not to stomp, he summoned his Firebolt. It met him in the entryway and he flew back to the lake as fast as he could go.

Severus followed him on foot, sweeping out of the Hall quickly so as to avoid the disappointment he was sure to find in the Headmaster's eyes. He had a three minute walk during which to decide what to say to Harry Potter, but he spent a good minute of it marveling over the idea of Miss Granger using the Weasley twins to her advantage. No one else had ever managed it. He expended some energy in NOT contemplating her concern for his own safety.

Naturally it was obvious that he should apologize to Harry, but how to go about it without sounding very guilty was the question. He reached the lake before he found the answer. He did manage to convince himself, however, that raging over the information Potter was withholding would not be the best way to handle it all. Harry was performing loops out over the lake, to the amusement of the squid, which reached for him playfully, sometimes missing by only inches.

Severus sat down to watch, not at all enamored of the idea of calling Harry back for the sake of the impending conversation. If he watched objectively enough, which wasn't hard since he couldn't see Harry's face, he could easily discern that Harry was a better flyer than even James had been. And he'd watched five years worth of James Potter as the Gryffindor Seeker, so he should know. For a startled moment he contemplated telling that to Harry, then dismissed the idea. He was the last person with whom Harry would want to discuss James. Though eventually they would have to.

He had an inkling that their time talking about Cedric's death today might have fortified the boy enough to allow him some measure of control in the face of the memory of the Dark Lord's return, and had intended to spend the afternoon testing that theory. Now, however, he was beginning to see that there were other things that bothered Harry more. Case in point: himself. And he was not ready to sit on the grass in the August sunshine and ask Potter why he hated him and what he needed to be able to get past it. That was definitely the LAST topic they were going to tackle. And yet there was the matter of Potter's dreams to consider. He was lost in thought when Harry landed, and so was startled when the boy spoke.

"It wasn't exactly a Pensieve, but it was mine. I consider us even," Harry said, his voice under careful control. He'd obviously done a great deal of thinking on the matter as he flew.

"As you say, Mr. Potter," Severus responded, just as carefully. He was relieved, honestly. It saved him having to say he wassorry.

Harry sat down heavily on the grass nearby, his broom falling to his side. He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that was so reminiscent of James that Severus choked back whatever he'd been about to say concerning the afternoon's activities. This gave Harry the opening to voice a thought that had just occurred to him. "Speaking of that pensieve, why aren't you using it now?" He figured if Professor Snape hadn't bit his head off over mentioning the incident in the first place, he could at least get some answers. He watched as the Professor weighed his answer carefully.

"It occurred to me that you are risking the entirety of your mind to my perusal, and it was only fitting that I should do the same." He debated whether or not to continue, but then forged ahead. "Also, Lupin informed me that the little scene you viewed had no small affect on you, and yet you mentioned it to no one but those who were there. In that respect, you have -" he paused again, "-earned my trust," he finished grudgingly. However unfitting it was, he found as he said it that it was true. Harry Potter had kept his secret. A secret his father had delighted in retelling to the entire school for weeks after the actual occurrence. He could no longer say that the boy was just like his father, appearance and Quidditch talent aside.

"I know what it's like to be picked on," Harry said quietly. "Dudley and his friends made a right sport out of it before I discovered I was a wizard. I wouldn't want everyone to know about that, either." Harry wanted badly to ask about any other memories Professor Snape might have of his parents, but stifled the urge. This conversation seemed to be going pretty well so far, and he didn't want to ruin it.

Finally, when it became apparent that the Professor wasn't going to say anything else, Harry spoke again. "I dreamt this summer, in spite of all the reading I did. I can stop the dreams as soon as they start now, but at first I couldn't. They were all about you." Here he looked over at him and added, with a touch of humor, "I could recognize your nose behind the mask."

Snape snorted in unexpected amusement and Harry continued. "Always it was the end of a meeting, and the majority of the Death Eaters were sent away. Then Malfoy would take off his mask. I kept waking myself up before you took yours off, though, and I forced a feeling of confusion to make him think I didn't understand why he'd show me that scene, so he wouldn't know I'd recognized you."

Severus was impressed in spite of himself. To do even that much on just book learning was to do quite a lot. "Well done, Potter," he said softly. "You say you can stop the dreams now?" Harry nodded. There was silence while Severus thought this over. It would be easy to go to the Headmaster and tell him that Harry's abilities were sufficient to stop the dreams, and he was through teaching him. But the next time Harry met the Dark Lord face to face he would still be nearly defenseless. And there would almost certainly be a next time, what with the prophesy and all.

Finally he bestirred himself. "I believe you have moved past your difficulties with memories of Mr. Diggory," he said, still staring out over the lake. "It has long been my opinion that your weaknesses in Occlumency stem from a feeling of guilt. This is something the Dark Lord can use against you no matter what the circumstance." There was another long silence as Severus tried to determine what would best get this across. He was unused to relating to anyone who was not in his house, but recalled that his own experiences had swayed some of them to postpone taking the mark last year. "I am familiar with guilt," he added, glancing quickly at Harry and then away. "I have discovered that knowing something is your fault and working to keep it from happening again are the only ways to assuage it, and even that does not entirely eliminate the feeling."

He was treading lightly, not wanting to imply that Sirius' death was Harry's fault. He could recall plainly the kind of reaction he'd gotten for such statements in the past and now was not the time to goad the boy. Their progress had been too substantial to risk a setback of that size now. "The key is to choose what you will think of and discipline your mind to ignore the rest. When I - am called, I think only of what I dislike about the Headmaster, of what I dislike about you. I concentrate on those things to the point of obsession, and because I can think of nothing but those things, the Dark Lord is unable to see beyond them."

Harry was listening raptly. He had not really thought about Professor Snape's work with the Order, beyond trying to hide his knowledge of it from Voldemort. He saw with blinding clarity that his gift for Occlumency was the only thing allowing the man to survive. And the fact that he was still alive was precisely why the Headmaster wanted him to be the one to teach it. A newfound respect welled in him, and he resolved in that moment not to forget what Professor Snape was risking just because the man was unpleasant.

They talked about the Order with a frankness that no one else had ever shown, except for Sirius. They talked of guilt in a roundabout way, never once addressing what one or the other of them might have to feel guilty about. Looking back, Harry decided it was the kind of conversation he could have had with Hermione if Ron weren't there to point out the obvious for them all the time. He felt better about Sirius than he had ever expected to feel again.

But when they finally began again, Harry called a halt after only an hour. Two weeks ago he would never have said anything about the pain in his scar, certainly he would not have mentioned it to Professor Snape. But much had changed in the last two weeks. This was the first time since his return to Hogwarts that he'd felt so much as a twitch in his forehead, for one thing, and his inability to block it was disconcerting. Also, Snape had lost his temper less often in the last week, and Harry was beginning to feel as though he'd finally crushed all the eggshells and could just walk normally. So he did.

"Wait, Professor," he said, as the dark man before him raised his wand again. Snape scowled, but lowered his arm. Harry put a hand to his forehead. "He's doing this on purpose," Harry whispered. The next thing his eyes registered was the ceiling in the hospital wing. How he had gotten there, he had no idea, but he sat up abruptly. His scar still pulsed faintly, and he had a disconnected feeling of deep distrust, which had nothing to do with his feelings for the nurse hurrying towards him.

"Where's Professor Snape?" Harry asked immediately.

Madam Pomfrey clucked in disapproval. "Not now, Potter. Lie back. I'll need to have a look at your head." She looked, but found nothing, as Harry had expected. He knew better than to mention that his scar still hurt, so instead he forced his voice to be bright.

"Can I go down for dinner?" he asked hopefully. He would be far more likely to get information from one of the other Professors than from Madam Pomfrey, and perhaps Professor Snape would already be there. The clock across the room was pointing solidly at "Dinner Time." The stalwart nurse agreed reluctantly, as she was unable to find a reason for him to stay, and he made his get-away quickly.

But Snape was not at the table. The Headmaster looked up as Harry entered, and their eyes met. Harry felt that odd, serpentine feeling growing in him, and at the same time his scar began to sting. He stopped cold in the doorway, pushing all thought out of his head, concentrating on the normalcy of going to dinner, eating with his Professors, looking at the empty Great Hall. He brought to mind the flying time he hoped to have later in the day. He thought hard about a letter to Ron that he meant to write before he went to bed. Gradually the pain and odd feeling subsided, and he realized that he was still staring fixedly at Professor Dumbledore, who looked visibly relieved.

"Sorry," Harry said, making his way quickly to an empty chair. He did his best to look as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but every head turned to stare at him. He doggedly piled mashed potatoes on his plate. Eventually the others went back to eating, but the silence that had descended upon his arrival remained.

When he'd finished eating, he looked up at the Headmaster again, glad that no odd feelings seemed to stir. "Professor Dumbledore, may I speak with you and Professor McGonagall after dinner?" he asked carefully. It had occurred to him that being alone with Dumbledore would not be safe for either of them. It had been so hard to force Voldemort back out of his head this time, and he knew it had been a very near thing.

The Headmaster threw a look at Professor McGonagall and must have gotten some response, for he nodded. "Of course, Harry."

It was a short discussion, during which Harry explained what he'd felt and how he'd stopped it, bringing approving nods from both Professors. He then asked specifically whether Professor Snape was still in the castle, and got a negative response.

"He's been called, then?" he asked.

"Yes. It is becoming obvious that Voldemort is suspicious of Professor Snape's loyalty. He has undoubtedly heard that you are here and was looking for any thoughts or emotions in you that might give him an indication about where Severus' true loyalties lie. You did well to force him out. I'm sure Professor Snape will be very pleased." Dumbledore spoke softly, and there was no twinkle in his eyes. He was watching Harry closely for any sign of the struggle he'd seen before.

"But you must be extraordinarily careful tonight when you sleep, Potter," McGonagall added sternly. "Perhaps it would be best if you remained awake until after Professor Snape returns."

"No," Dumbledore responded immediately, turning to her as if Harry was no longer present. "There should be no reason for Voldemort to believe that Harry has any knowledge of Severus' whereabouts."

"I think I'll just head out to the pitch, then," Harry said suddenly. "One of the things I was trying to concentrate on was that I wanted to go flying."

They consented to this readily enough, and he was gone out of the Headmaster's office as quickly as he could be. They both had a point. What would be more dangerous? Staying awake and risking Voldemort discovering why, or falling asleep and risking another dream, one that might give Professor Snape away for good and all?

By the time the sun was fully set, Harry had made up his mind to sleep. Whether he could block the dreams entirely, he didn't know, but if today's victory was any indication, he could at least control his mind to the point of forcing Voldemort out.

Snape was at the breakfast table the next morning, looking nothing short of exhausted. Harry made a point to sit beside him. "All right, Professor?" he asked, straddling the fence between the respect he'd come to have for the man and a camaraderie that he usually showed only to his housemates.

If Severus was at all startled by the familiarity, he didn't show it. "Alright, Potter," he confirmed quietly, his eyes never leaving his plate.


Dear Harry,

I'm sorry you didn't get to read about the Bathroom Plan, but really, you know Professor Snape loves to read notes. Every time he catches someone with one in class he makes sure to read it, after all. And usually out loud! The long and short of it was that I walked in on Fred after he finished showering and shooed him out of the bathroom. When he got embarrassed, I just told him we were all family and I wasn't looking. And he told Ron, who was SUPPOSED to realize that meant he was more like a brother to me than – anything else. He was a little dense, though, so Ginny and I started saying the same things to him, wording and all. Those two things kept him normal for over two weeks, but then he started looking at me sideways again at the dinner table, so I thought I'd better try the only remaining thing I could think of….

Hermione waited patiently for the perfect opportunity over the next several days, but when it presented itself, she nearly missed it. Mrs. Weasley announced the next day's trip to Diagon Alley at dinner. Hermione almost missed her cue as her friends began discussing what supplies they'd need, but raised her voice after hearing Ron's indiscreet comment to George: "Maybe Hermione and I will check out that new bookstore the Prophet was talking about last week."

It was obvious that she'd been meant to hear, and equally obvious that he was proposing a "date." For a moment she thought it very sweet of him to choose something she'd actually enjoy instead of dragging her off to the Quidditch supply store as usual.

She firmly squashed that thought as the wheels in her head started turning. "Yes, I definitely want to go there," she answered slowly, ignoring Ginny, who kicked her under the table. "But…" She turned to Mrs. Weasley, "there's something I have to do first, and I could use some help," she said, lowering her voice just a bit. Any blush that threatened was forcefully controlled as Mrs. Weasley met her gaze.

"What's that, dear?" the older woman asked kindly, not noticing that the noise level had dropped substantially as everyone listened.

"Well, I've sort of filled out a bit," Hermione answered, shifting her bra from the sides for emphasis and feigning complete comfort with the topic, if not the garment. "I'm afraid these are a bit tight."

She knew she could count on Mrs. Weasley to be business-like and efficient on this, and she wasn't disappointed. "Right. The others can go straight to Flourish and Blotts. You, Ron and I will head to Madam Malkin's and when we're finished there, the two of you can go to the bookshop you want to see."

"Thanks," Hermione said, masking her alarm. When she turned back to the others Fred, George and Ginny were all grinning, but Ron looked horrified. "Oh, grow up, Ron," she snapped. "Ginny's got them too, you know!"

Any thoughts Ron may once have had about dating Hermione were irrevocably obliterated by the end of the summer. Harry sat out by the lake only two days before the beginning of term, laughing over Ginny's description of the disastrous trip to Diagon Alley, which of course all the Weasley children had spied on. He'd already received Hermione's letter on the same topic and had to admit it was the perfect finish to a brilliant plan.


All in all, and in spite of the many things he had NOT accomplished this summer, Severus was pleased with the boy's progress. And although he never mentioned that fact to Potter, it was a fact nevertheless. He was not aware that it showed in his treatment of the boy, however, until the first day of classes, when the unthinkable happened. Harry Potter stayed after class to talk with Professor Snape.

He was furious, but unwilling to show it. To discourage the boy now would mean the end of half a summer's hard work, and possibly his own life, as Miss Granger had been kind enough to point out to him. As Potter approached his desk, Severus checked discreetly to be sure the rest had cleared the room. Naturally they had – as quickly as ever.

"Professor, now that classes have started, do I have to tell everyone I'm taking remedial potions again?" Harry asked quietly. A year ago, he would have sounded angry at the very thought. A year ago he would have been defensive about the idea of being thought stupid. A year ago he had been a child. Severus looked up warily, and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer his own question. It was a rather daft question, after all. "I thought as much," Harry said, a trace of petulance creeping into his tone.

Severus smirked. "Master it and the lie won't be necessary, Mr. Potter," he said smoothly. Harry only nodded. "Your class schedule," Severus demanded, holding out a hand. The boy passed it to him without question. Not even a flicker of annoyance at the presumptuousness of the command. "Something wrong, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked, not glancing up from the schedule. He had just determined that Wednesdays and Saturdays were the only available times for Occlumency lessons when it registered that he had not received an answer. He looked up. Harry was shifting uncomfortably in front of his desk as though he had a splinter in each foot. "Well?"

"Ron and I had a row," he answered quickly.

Severus frowned. "You were sure to write them to tell them you wouldn't make the train?" he asked, nearly wincing at how paternal that sounded. He would have to be more careful. Harry was nodding. The correct thing to say was that it would all work out and Ron would come around. Instead he snapped, "Well, work it out. Occlumency doesn't mix with distractions such as that."

There was the annoyance. Good. It wouldn't do to have him completely docile. Tempting as it was, the point was not to break the boy, only to teach him. "Yes, Sir," Harry replied sullenly. Severus handed him back the class schedule.

"Wednesdays after dinner and Saturday morning from 8 until noon, with the exception of Quidditch. When I have seen sufficient progress, you may accompany your friends to Hogsmeade as well."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry replied, obviously having mastered his annoyance. Severus thought briefly that 16 agreed with the boy a great deal.

"Dismissed."