CHAPTER 3

Harry was flooded with get-well cards during his two-week stay in the hospital wing. He was also flooded with questions after his release (and a list of warnings recited by a very strict Madam Pomfrey). Harry was used to dealing with the mail and the questions, although he hated it; and he also listened to Madam Pomfrey's lecture with a polite and submissive attitude – he liked the matron and was sorry to give her trouble. But when he received a note from Albus Dumbleodre, telling him that he was to resume Occlumency lessons with Severus and take duelling lessons with the same teacher, he was extremely displeased.

"Look at this!" he spluttered, showing the note to Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, "as if I don't have enough to do with my studies and duties as Quidditch Captain! Two sets of private lessons with Snape!"

"Professor Snape brewed the Potions you had to drink during your stay in the hospital wing," Hermione reminded him, "and it confirms what I have been thinking all this while. You have to master Occlumency, Harry. By all means."

"Why Snape? Why not another teacher?" Harry spat.

"Snape is the best Occlumens around besides Dumbledore. And he's at Hogwarts and an Order member. He's not just anyone."

"And of course Dumbledore won't bother to teach me himself," Harry growled, snatching back the note and crumpling it, "and duelling lessons, too. Plus NEWT Potions…I'm going to go mad!"

"Please don't go mad, mate," Ron said anxiously. There was a heavy silence. Then Harry said softly:

"I was really addicted to that stuff. It was like I couldn't stop…"

"We're your friends, silly," Ron said while Hermione smiled and patted his hand.

"The worst thing was…I'd want and need more of the stuff every week. My body would get used to the Sleeping Potion, and the nightmares would start coming back. So I'd take more…and more…" Harry trailed away, chewing at his lip.

"But now you're fine again, Harry. You were very brave during the withdrawal phase," Hermione said cheerfully.

"I saw the Sleeping Potions in your drawer," Ron confessed, his ears reddening a little, "and I wanted to talk to you, but you broke down the next day."

Harry sighed softly.

"I'm glad I've got friends like the two of you," he said gratefully. Ron grinned and ruffled Harry's hair.

"Hey!" Harry laughed; then he studied the timetable which had come with the note.

"Occlumency on Monday evenings. And duelling lessons on Friday at eight, after dinner."

"At least you won't be duelling on an empty stomach," Ron observed.

"Yeah, well, I hope he won't hex me so that I'll have to vomit what I've eaten," Harry pointed out. Hermione looked at him sternly.

"Professor Snape is not very nice, but-"

"What about the time he called you an 'insufferable know-it-all' or when he ignored the problem with that tooth hex? He's a Muggle-hating bigot," Ron interrupted her coldly.

"He is a rather…harsh man…and it's not as if he's not had anything to do with Muggles, considering his father's heritage."

"Huh?" Ron and Harry both said. Hermione gave them a bossy look.

"You never read, do you? Snape is mentioned in a recent publication on the greatest Potions Masters of the nineteen-nineties. It says that his father was a Muggle and his mother a witch."

"Probably a publication which has been consulted by only you so far, otherwise it would be common knowledge at Hogwarts," Ron commented.

"Anyway it doesn't mean anything, Hermione. Tom Riddle. Muggle father, witch mother. Let's see. He simply loves Muggles and Muggle-borns," Harry said sarcastically.

"Snape is working against Voldemort. If Dumbledore trusts him, then so can the whole school. He has saved your life more than once, Harry. We've discussed this before," Hermione said firmly, "and it would be good if you really made an effort this time, Harry."

"Sure. If he makes an effort as well," Harry replied.

"You can forget about that, mate," Ron said unhelpfully.

"I'm sure the duelling will be interesting. And it's the kind of thing you're really good at, Harry," Hermione encouraged her glum friend.

"Let's go for a ride on our broomsticks, Harry," Ron suggested.

"Yeah. Good idea." Harry leapt to his feet followed his friend out of the room. Ginny, who happened to walk inside the room, caught the last few sentences.

"Boys and broomsticks, you know," she chuckled to Hermione.

"I'm not surprised. Broomsticks are very masculine objects because of their phallic shape," Hermione observed austerely. Ginny burst out laughing.

"I won't tell that to Dean," she chortled. Dean was Ginny's boyfriend and both of them were on the Quidditch team.

"You had better not. We still want Gryffindor to beat Slytherin, don't we?"

"Naturally," Ginny grinned.
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Harry's first Occlumency lesson arrived, and the young wizard stomped his way down to the dungeons, swearing softly every now and then. In front of Snape's office-door, he squared his shoulders and took a couple of deep calming breaths before knocking.

The door opened, admitting him.

"Ah. Mr Potter," the silky voice of the Potions Master floated over to him, laced with dislike.

"I'm here for my Occlumency lesson. Sir," Harry said dully.

"Obviously, Potter," Severus sneered, detaching himself from a shelf of jars and approaching Harry. The door closed, and Harry found himself staring into Severus's large black eyes.

"My, my, Potter. Sleeping Potion addiction."

He shook his head slowly, as if he had never seen someone as stupid as Harry before. Harry remained silent, hanging on to his control.

"You are just like your father. Arrogant, thinking that you know everything. I don't know how you managed to pass your OWL Potions exam. I don't even know what you are doing in my class if you are so prone to making such brainless mistakes. But I suppose it is hereditary, thanks to your blessed father."

Harry managed not to clench his fists or scream at Severus. He inhaled deeply and said calmly:

"My father may have bullied you, but he was a teenager back then. You're an adult, and you bully children and adolescents! You keep grudges for years. How pathetic is that?"

Severus narrowed his eyes to slits. He moved closer to Harry and stared into the determined green eyes, his haughty hooked nose nearly touching Harry's.

"I will not tolerate your tone and rude behaviour, you foolish little brat."

"Why, thank you for the compliment, sir." Harry intoned the last word with as much loathing as possible.

They stared at each other in wrathful silence. Then Severus stepped away and pointed to a chair.

"Having exchanged the pleasantries, you might as well warm up that chair," he hissed.

Harry sat down, knowing what was coming. He drew out his wand.

"Did I tell you to draw out your wand, Potter?" Severus asked icily.

"You did not. Sir."

"Put it away."

Harry obeyed.

"Take out your wand, Potter."

Gritting his teeth, Harry took out his wand again.

"So. And now, let's see how much you have forgotten from your fifth year. However, I doubt that you have forgotten anything. After all, you did not learn anything, did you, Mr Potter? Briefly: what is there to forget?"

Harry knew that he actually owed Severus an apology for breaching his privacy and invading the Pensieve; but he was too angry and humiliated to force himself to say the apology.

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