Chapter 11: Teaching the Chosen One
Harry slouches down beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table. He begins loading dinner onto his plate but glances at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Has Dumbledore talked to you?" he asks, glancing again without fully taking his eyes off his food.
"Yes," she replies. He nods in response, keeping the conversation casual.
"Do you want Ron to know?" She turns to look at him, but he seems absorbed in eating.
"Do you?" she counters. He shrugs.
"He's been more a prat than normal since things ended with Ginny. Funny enough he was mad when I started dating her and mad when I stopped, but maybe that's because she has taken to snogging Dean in the common room. Anyways, if it's harder with him knowing, I rather not deal with the fuss."
"He'll be mad when he finds out," she speaks cautiously to her plate. Harry shrugs.
"There's always something for him to be mad about."
"We'll keep it to just us for now. Less fuss," she says. He nods. "When do you want to meet?"
"Dumbledore says we'll cut back on our meeting so I can work on this."
"Ok."
"Hope you're a better teacher than Snape," Harry turns to Hermione and winks.
"Well we'll see, now won't we," she laughs.
Hermione steps cautiously into the Room of Requirement. She's planned what she's going to say to the streak of white blonde hair sitting in the chair. Harry is just ten minutes behind her, yet…
"Stop biting your lip and spit it out," Draco says without looking up from his book. Her bottom lip pops out from between her teeth. She fiddles with the words in her head for a moment, opening and closing her mouth.
"Granger?" He looks up at the witch.
"I'm teaching Harry occlumency," she says, words spilling out. Shock crosses his features for a split second before his mask is back in place.
"Ok. And…" She glances around the room.
"I was…" she trails off.
"You're kicking me out?" he asks as he starts to pack his things.
"I'm sorry," she gushes. "I just don't know where else to take him that we can't be happened upon. And this room made it so much easier in that I wasn't falling on the stone floor. And-"
"Granger, it's fine." She nods, worrying her lip once more. "How often do you need the room?"
"Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights. And every other Sunday afternoon."
"Alright, then I'll see you Tuesday, Friday and Saturday," he says, hand on the door.
"Draco?" She looks to him and he raises one eyebrow. "Thank you. For...for everything." He shrugs, rolling his eyes, and disappears out the door. She gives him a minute, before following him out. It's only a few minutes before Harry joins her in the seventh floor corridor.
Hermione paces back and forth and then opens the door that appears. The emerald green carpet it plush and soft beneath our feet. A rich mahogany coffee table sits in a corner between two red chairs with silver embroidery.
"Interesting color choice," Harry comments. Hermione blushes under his gaze. It's similar to the room Draco taught her in, except for the dash of red. "Snake got your tongue?"
"Harry." He shrugs.
"Just be careful." Her cheeks redden further. "Shall we start?" he asks, rescuing her from having to comment.
"Yes," Hermione sits on the floor and motion for him to do the same. "So the method I learned took a little over two months of for me to become proficient. It was similar to how Snape tried and failed to teach you, though he expect progress much too soon for the method. Still we only have four and a half months till school lets out, and the sooner you master it the better. Because of this, I developed a different method of teaching." Harry smirks.
"Of course you did." She playfully rolls her eyes, before letting her smile fall.
"This won't be easy, Harry. And it will be...it will be painful. With the faster methods, I have to penetrate your mind. The mind tries to protect it's worse memories, but it just ends up bring them to the forefront to be viewed." Harry nods solemnly.
"I trust you, Hermione," he says.
"Ok. First I will go in and we will see some memories. After that, I will show you how to build some shields in your mind. We'll continue this pattern each time we meet. When you go to sleep or are just sitting around thinking, try improving the shields. Alright?" He consents. "Ready?"
"Yes."
"On three," she says, sounding oddly like the one who taught her. "One, two, three." The room is ripped from view as she dives into Harry's mind.
A small boy with unruly black hair and glasses slightly too big for his face stands on a stool in front of a stove. Though he's on the small side, Hermione instinctively know he is six years old. The boy stares intently into the pan moving the contents around with a spatula. The smell of bacon that has been on too long hits the witch's nose. A tall skinny woman with a horse like face storms into the room. She roughly pulls the boy from the stool.
"What is this?" she screeches, grabbing the pan and pointing it at the boy's face.
"Bacon?" he replies weakly.
"Half of it is burned and the other half is raw. Can't you do anything right, you freak?"
"I sorry," he sobs.
"Sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" She continues pointing at him with the pan. The bacon slides around precariously before pushing some of the oil over the edge and onto the boy's arm. He hisses as it hits.
"What have you done now?" She throws the pan back onto the stove and grabs him roughly by his burning arm. She yelps and pulls her hand away to see blister much more sinister than his growing all over her hand.
"Freak," she commented, pushing him into a compartment beneath the staircase. The lock clicks. The small boy curls up on his side on a small cot, protectively holding his arm to his chest. His arm glows slightly as he closes his eyes.
As the memory closes, Hermione pulls out of Harry's mind. His eyes scan her face, his expression slightly guarded.
"Harry," she starts, but he holds up a hand.
"I'm fine, Hermione," he says, waving his arm to show it isn't burned.
"Harry, I'm sorry that-" He cuts her off again.
"We're not going to get anywhere if you coddle me after every bad memory, because trust me, there is a lot of them. But I have come to terms with it, so let's move on." Her heart aches of the lonely little boy locked in a cupboard under the stairs, but she respects the man before her enough to let it be. How Harry came to terms with such horrors she couldn't understand, but she also knew he could never love as fiercely as he does if he hadn't. She nods.
"Again? On three," she says. "One, two…"
Two memories later and the witch is feeling the drain. Witnessing the neglect and abuse of a small innocent boy is disheartening and keeping the tears from falling takes quite the effort as well.
"I think it's time we move to the second phase of this lesson," she says. Hermione scoots closer until she can take his hands in hers as they sit cross-legged on the floor facing each other. "I am going to go into your mind, but a different place than where the memories are kept. This point is where consciousness is and that is where we will start to build your shields."
"Ok."
"On three, one, two…" Holding his hands in her own, she plunges into his mind, pulling out slightly as she feels the memories stir. When she opens the connection further, it creates a separate space. It is as if they are both standing on the quitches pitch. She glances around finding Harry staring wide eyed.
"What is this place?" he asks.
"This is your mind," she replies. "Well part of it. This is the part in the front, where thoughts pass and everything is taken in in the moment. This is also where the first of the shields are formed. See that?" Hermione points at a pair of giant green eyes on one side the the pitch. "That is where things come in from the outside world and that is where you build the first shield."
"How?" Immediately a large stone appears in the middle of the pitch. The witch smiles.
"That is your shield. The first one anyways. Each of the shields exist within your mind already, it is part of being magical. You just have to move them into place, which is harder than it sounds."
"Of course it is," Harry snorts. "So how do I move this giant rock?" She frowns at her own memory.
"It is different for each person. For mine, I had to find the mathematical force needed to move the stone. Some have to physically move it so to speak. Other's etch runes or use magical means of some sort. It is a defining piece of yourself that must be called forward."
"Great," he grumbled. He saunters forward and attempts lifting stone into place. With no luck, he pulls out his wand, but magic had no effect as well. After exhausting a few more means, the heaviness of keeping the connection open was growing every second.
"Harry," she says, "we'll try again later." She pulls out of his mind and looks at his face once more.
"So that is what the shields are?" he asks.
"Yes, but there are seven to be erected. Finding that place through meditation takes at least six months for the first of the shields. The idea with having your mind penetrated is that you can start to see the layers of the mind, but it is horribly taxing as well. That is why I thought leading you to the layers would be easier and faster, though it cannot be done without going through some memories as well." Harry nods.
"Thanks Hermione," he stands and offers her a hand.
"For what?"
"For being a better teacher than Snape," he laughs.
Hermione's head heavy and pounding as she falls into bed. Unable to lift herself up again, she closes the curtains around the bed with a flick of her wand. Who knew teaching would be so taxing?
Sleep comes fast, but dreams of child Harry plaguing the witch causing her to toss and turn and whimper as she's helpless to stop the wrongs against the child.
"Harry," she screams out as the first rays of the day break through the window.
"Shut it," Lavender grumbles from her bed. Hermione take a deep breath, checking her mental barriers before standing and gathering her things for the day.
"Draco," Hermione says as she spots him in the Room of Requirement that night. He looks up as the girl rushes to him. His eyes sweep over her before his eyebrows pull down low over his eyes.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he mutters. She blushes slightly as her hand reaches up to the hair pulled back in a very messy bun with several pieces sticking out at odd angles. The dark circles under her eyes and the paler complexion than normal does nothing to help her appearance.
"When you were teaching me," Hermione starts, ignoring the self conscious voice in the back of her head, "did you ever… I mean was it hard on you or… what I'm trying to say is…"
"You're having nightmares?" Draco asks. Hermione's chin dips sharply in confirmation.
"Did you?" He shrugs.
"A few times, yes." His expression doesn't hint at his thoughts as they spin towards the nightmare he'd experienced. There were nights he woke shaking from the war hardened heroine's vulnerable moments and how it reminded him how broken the war had made him. The wards he set each night around his bed kept the other boys from knowing his weakness.
"They were scenes from his memories mixed with other things about him." He nods.
"Yes, it's worse if you overtax yourself during the session, which I'm sure you did." He smirks. "You need to leave enough energy to do a proper meditation and clearing of your mind before going to sleep. You may still have the odd nightmare after a particularly emotional session, but it won't be nearly as bad."
"That makes sense. Thank you." He shrugs.
"Potions?" he asks, pulling out his assignment. In reply, she pulls out her work as well.
"I think I have it figured out," Harry says the second he and Hermione are tucked away in the Room of Requirement.
"Alright, we'll do one memory and then go to shield building," the witch replies. "One, two…"
Voldemort rises from the giant cauldron. He grants the rat a silver hand and cackles. His attempt to imperious Harry and cannot. Hermione feels a cold satisfaction at that, remembering it was his own servant polyjuiced as Moody who helped Harry accomplish such a feat. The feeling is brief as she is drawn back to the memory as Harry's back is forced to bend.
Hermione's awe parallels the emotions from the memory as the wands connect and all the people appear and offering aid. It is heart wrenching when Cedric asks him to take his body back. Harry grabs the body and hurtles towards the cup. As he disappears so does the memory.
Hermione pulls away before another one can play to see Harry sitting before her and offering his hands. Hermione grips his hands with her own and focuses on the wizard before her. She can sort through her own emotions to that memory at another time.
Standing on the quitches pitch again, the stone still lays in the middle. Intricate runes decorate the edge of the circle. Harry walks purposefully forward, stopping at the edge. He closes his eyes, hands resting at his side. He mutters a couple of words, then repeats it again and again, louder each time.
"I am not alone," he shouts and with tiny pops people appear around the edge of the stone. There are his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Hagrid, the Weasleys, the members of the DA and Hermione standing around the stone. Harry reaches his hands down to the stone as does the rest of the people. Together, they hoist the stone up and place it in front the the great green eyes. The first of the shields is in place.
Harry turns to Hermione with a smile.
"How was that?" he asks. His friend pulls out of his mind and gives him a hug.
"That was brilliant." They both agree that they're done for the night and wander off to the common room. Hermione makes sure to meditate for half an hour before going to sleep and is pleased when it helps just as Draco said it would.