Wooo, it somehow feel like ages since I updated, despite it being only like.. 3 weeks or so. Thank you all for all the positive reviews :D
I've also started uploading this story on AO3, so for those of you who prefer that website for reading, feel free to check it out there. I'll be uploading on both sites from now on.
So, as you might have noticed in the last chapter, I skipped pretty much all of October. In the books, I basically skipped chapter fourteen and fifteen: 'Percy and Padfoot' and 'The Hogwarts High Inquisitor'.
Enjoy!
Chapter forty-nine: Storms and Minds
''Merlin, finally a minute of peace,'' Harry groaned, slumping down on a beanbag. Ron made a similar noise as he pushed several beanbags together to make a larger surface area to fall down on. ''No homework, no recruiting, no detentions… amazing. How's Quidditch going?''
''Fun and tiring. I know you said Wood was tough for dragging you out of bed before 6am in rain and storm for practise, but I honestly think now that it's a standard for Quidditch captains. Angelina does the same. Even if I'm very happy that I was allowed to join the team, I can also finally understand why you quit. Especially now,'' Ron spoke, giving Harry a meaningful look.
The teen hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. The last few weeks had been very eventful, and not only in a good way. Umbridge had made her move, becoming High Inquisitor and inspecting teachers and students alike. Harry had thankfully managed to avoid more detentions. He'd almost spoken out of line again in class when she'd mentioned Quirrel of all teachers being the most competent out of the Defence teachers they'd had. Only the Horcrux's warning hiss had prevented Harry from angrily throwing in that Quirrel had had a Dark Lord growing out of the back of his head.
He really couldn't afford more scrutiny, not now he and his friends had started to build an underground organisation. The Horcrux's suggestion had been accepted surprisingly quickly when Harry carefully told Ron and Hermione about it, veiling it as his own idea. Especially Hermione was very encouraging, telling him that she had already had a similar thought, but believed that it would have taken a lot of convincing to sell it to Harry. So, they'd started telling a couple of people about it who might be interested and trustworthy enough. After the disaster with Marietta Edgecombe, Harry was understandably suspicious of telling too many people, only grudgingly admitting that he couldn't gather members for a Defence group if he refused to speak to anyone about it. To ease his fears of Umbridge finding out, Hermione had tried her best to research and practise different ways of secrecy spells and wards. Even the Horcrux had been impressed by how much she'd been able to pull off already, like designing fake Galleons with a variant of a Protean Charm on it, based on nothing other than the Dark Mark itself.
Hermione wasn't the only one who'd been tirelessly working. Harry himself didn't have much of a choice, especially because there were quite a few things he needed to do without anyone knowing about it. The time he'd spent on Quidditch training before, he now used for Runes – after Ron's suggestion, Harry had dropped his idea of also studying Arithmacy. Managing both with everything else going on had turned out to be impossible – and any other free spots of time he had after class and homework were spent on either brewing Sleeping Draughts, reading books that the Horcrux suggested, or practising the spells he'd been taught by Barty and Voldemort in the past year. On top of that, Harry was also the 'man with the plan', as Ron called it, regarding the Defence group they were building. Which meant that for any tweaks in plans or suggestions, everyone came to him to exchange opinions. It was six more days now till the Hogsmeade weekend where the first real meeting and official joining would take place.
At first, Hermione had wanted it to be held in the Hog's Head, saying that there would be too many people in the Three Broomsticks. Harry had agreed with her on the point with too many people - especially since teachers also were prone to visiting the Three Broomsticks – but the Horcrux had warned against the Hog's Head as well.
Unbeknownst to Harry and his friends, it had been run by Aberforth Dumbledore since even before Albus Dumbledore had become a teacher at Hogwarts, and that was unlikely to have changed unless Aberforth had died in the meantime. Ron, who had most knowledge of light Wizarding families, mentioned that he'd heard mentions of Aberforth Dumbledore now and then during dinner conversations at home during his childhood, nothing that would indicate his demise. Just to be certain, Harry didn't really want to risk it, especially not after hearing that the Hog's Head was also a meeting place for some… odder folk. A large group of students would certainly cause a commotion. Both his best friends had wanted to just use the Room of Requirement for the first meeting too, but Harry had disagreed. They couldn't be certain that everyone who was interested would also join, and then there was still the possibility of someone snitching on them. He did not want anyone else to know about where the regular meetings would be held who hadn't signed Hermione's magically binding contract.
The meeting had thus been scheduled in a slightly hidden clearing just off the path leading towards Hogsmeade. It had of course been the Horcrux's suggestion, Harry hadn't had a clue about the existence of said clearing. Apparently, Voldemort had used it for some rituals in his youth. It had been easier to disappear during Hogsmeade trips than any other time, and the road to the village was much less inspected than the Forbidden Forest was. Since they had several Prefects and two Headboys at their side, the idea would be that they'd each accompany small groups of interested students, leading them to the clearing where Harry, Ron and Hermione would already be waiting. The best thing about trips to Hogsmeade was the opportunity to practise magic outside of school, away from the eyes of teachers. So, Harry could put up all the Silencing wards that he wanted without a hitch.
''I think I've rested enough,'' Ron finally spoke, sitting up again, a spark in his eyes. ''We're finally doing this, right?''
''Right,'' Harry grinned, getting to his feet too. The Room had helpfully provided them with a table on which he could put 'Analysing Animagi', his birthday gift from Sirius. He hadn't heard much from his godfather apart from a few coded letters that didn't reveal much info other than that Sirius was safe and sound, albeit unhappy with being locked up still. When this Defence group was finally official, he'd try to write his godfather about it, Harry was sure that Sirius would love such a rebellious act. ''Not sure how much practise we can do today. I mean, the first steps are to have the Mandrake leaf in our mouths for a month and start the potion preparations. I brought the leaves and a cauldron, you have the other ingredients, yeah?''
''I do, and I looked into weather magic. We could do that already, to be sure that we're good enough when we need to use it? Sirius also said that after the potion was complete and they started taking it, him and your dad created lightning storms a couple of times to speed up the process. We could also already try that to see how well it works.''
''Probably a good idea. The only penalty for it is having different weather at non-natural times, so we don't have much to lose.''
Ron looked relieved at having something else to do than only sitting here and starting a potion that would need to brew for a month before they could start training. Judging by the bulging bag he'd brought, Ron had already prepared for some weather magic. The little knowledge Harry had on the subject was what Sirius had told them, it wasn't something he'd delved into before at all. Due to it being usually rather noticeable and still very illegal, neither Voldemort nor Barty had used it in his presence before as far as he could recall. Harry took care of setting up the makeshift potion lab while Ron drew a circle. With fascination. Harry watched as Ron created a sort of altar in the middle, which was basically a larger book balancing on top of some smaller ones. ''I didn't really have a slab of limestone available, sorry. We'll have to make do with what we have, I hope a book on stones is good enough.''
It was such a typical Ron-solution that Harry wasn't even surprised. Don't have stone? Use a picture of a stone. It's the thought that counts. He was sure that Voldemort would have started hyperventilating when seeing the carelessness with which they would be performing this ritual. For once, Harry really wished that the Horcrux would show its face, just so Harry could judge its expression. ''Can I have a quick read-through?'' Harry asked.
''Oh, I don't have much,.. written down,'' Ron said, looking a bit embarrassed. ''Hermione gave me a couple of books, and they all had different rituals so I kind of mashed them together until I had something I could remember easily and had most of the items for. Here… the incantation.''
Harry took the slip of parchment offered to him and read the words on it. ''Anglo-Saxon?'' he guessed, thinking he recognised the gist of the language from the time Draco had taught him the Merfolk incantation.
''No, Gàidhlig. The Scottish Gaelic, basically. I heard that with weather magic, it's best to use the language from the place where you're changing the weather and as we're in Scotland, the closest language suitable for magic would be Gàidhlig. Err, I got Hermione to write down the phonetic pronunciation of each word. I told her I'm doing a project in Divination to get extra marks, for which I need to look at the weather changes and such. Trelawney is the only Professor she never speaks to, so I hope she won't find out.''
''That's… practical. Can you give me an overview of what's going to happen then? Not to be nagging but… after last year I do have a bit more experience with dark rituals than you do.''
Ron was silent for a bit, frowning. ''In all the excitement, I almost forgot that this was dark magic. No, maybe I pushed it away instead. It doesn't sound bad, controlling the weather a bit, certainly in a place where it is always so fickle anyways. The book you gave me on magic classification was quite an eye-opener, but dark magic in general is still…'' he trailed off. ''I can understand you, your first dark ritual was necessary to not be eaten alive by a dragon, and then to not drown in the lake. Mine will be so I can gain a power few people have in a faster way than is usual. Does that make me… selfish? Or bad?''
''It makes you a wizard,'' Harry answered, trying to be diplomatic. ''There's so much possibility in magic, and as long as we don't try to harm anyone, no-one could honestly justify calling us evil. I mean, my dad did this and he died for the Light. Sirius did this and he broke away from his family because they were too extreme and violent. You're not bad, Ron. You won't be bad unless you suddenly feel the urge to bring pain to others, physically or emotionally. I'm worse than you in that, I truly wished for Umbridge to die,'' he confessed sombrely.
''Hey, we all did,'' Ron laughed it off, stomping Harry's arm. The teen didn't react beyond a weak smile. Harry didn't have the heart to try and make clear to his best friend how seriously he meant it. ''Okay, enough chatting. I wanted to start with the storm spell, actually. Of the two, it's the more powerful one, so us casting it from inside of a building won't work too much against the spell. Also, it's much easier to check if it worked. So, for lots of old rituals, wizards and witches used to call on spirits, which were sometimes given names and worshipped as nature deities if they were strong enough. From what I gathered, this belief was mostly abandoned again, the only deity worshipped now is Magic herself. Those other deities only remain in remnants of Muggle religions and old spells like these. That's what the book said anyways,'' he continued sheepishly, clearly not used to having someone's rapt attention.
''So we're calling on one of these old… gods?''
''Spirits is probably more fitting. But yes, there's a... erhm, rain spirit? Sea spirit? The translation was a bit vague, but he's called Manannan mac y Leir,'' Ron spoke, squinting his eyes at the page in the book. ''The spell basically asks him to call forth a storm.''
''Good, so what do I need to do?''
Harry followed Ron's gestures and sat down once he'd ensured that the flame on which the small cauldron stood was stable, and all ingredients were laid out properly. ''We need to light the candles, chant the spell several times while… channelling magic?'' Ron sounded rather unsure. ''I don't really know what to do with that part too much. In the book, it sounded as if we have to channel magic wandlessly but… wands are channelers, aren't they?''
Harry shook his head, kind of glad to be in familiar territory. ''Wands are used to focus specific spells. Quite a few dark rituals use raw magic, the force itself. With some practise, you can let it… flow from your hands without another purpose than letting it build up around you in the air. You can then use it to feel the magic of others for example.'' He thought of the Horcruxes, where he'd also let his pure magic flow through his hands to interact with their power. ''I'll try to describe the feeling and guide you through that, if it's okay.''
Ron looked relieved. ''Sure! Right, so there's a bit of symbolism involved too. Feathers of a crow lain beneath grass, as crows are said to flock down on fields before an oncoming storm, and candles in grey and red to symbolise the colours of the sky before a storm: grey clouds in the evening, red in the morning. Then finally a piece of glass to symbolise lightning.'' He looked up at Harry, apparently searching for some sign of approval.
''I can't say much about how accurate it is, sorry,'' Harry shrugged, ''Never done weather magic. Some symbolising items can't hurt though. Any runes or so?''
Ron shook his head. ''Two of the rituals described runes and some formulas…'' he hesitated, ''I didn't understand them so left them out and took more elements that I did get. So, that was basically it. I'll put in the items at the right times while you concentrate on the spell and magic-channelling?''
''Let's do this!'' Harry said, getting excited, taking a few deep breaths to ease himself into a meditative state.
His breath caught however, when wisps of smoke drifted upwards and a voice sounded behind him.
''I wish I could watch this entertaining show, but alas, letting you blow yourself up would be counterproductive. Get him to stop. Now.'' The Horcrux stood right outside of the salt line and started circling them, eyes focused on Ron.
Before his friend could utter a word, Harry sharply spoke: ''Wait a moment. Something isn't right. I need to… think for a bit. Sorry.'' He tried not to look at Voldemort, not wanting to cast more suspicion, pretending he was thinking while listening to the young Dark Lord's advice. The man halted behind Ron and looked directly at Harry.
''You are working with a ritual that you know an absolute novice threw together from three different descriptions because he didn't understand parts of them? Harry, I shouldn't need to tell you how stupid that is. I admire your spirit in introducing your friends to dark magic, and experimenting in itself is an important step. However, you should have done thorough research. With everything he described, I can guarantee that this will do major harm to both of you. Don't understand me wrong, the incantation in itself is fine, so is most of the symbolism and while his choice for the altar is… crude, it could work. But there is no protection, no indicated timespan, no area of effect, no limits on strength. Exactly those things regulated by carefully placed runes, combined with certain numbers to guide the effects. This will call a storm of unknown power directly into this room. For all you know, you could summon a ball-lightning storm in front of your faces.''
''Harry?'' Ron asked, looking very uncertain.
''This might be too dangerous,'' he admitted regretfully. ''Leaving the runes out. Dark magic has to be controlled a lot better than light magic. Without them, we don't control at all where the storm goes, or when it happens even.'' He cast a quick glance at Voldemort, who nodded.
''Let him show you the rituals he based it on. I'll guide you.''
Relieved that he wouldn't need to break it off entirely, Harry did as told and slowly leafed through the various books Ron had used to give Voldemort enough time to both read it and tell Harry how to correct the ritual. According to the Dark Lord, it still wasn't ideal, for they missed certain elements that could have been helpful, but in the end, they had something that at least wouldn't be harmful.
''Worked it out,'' Harry told Ron, who'd observed him a bit sheepishly the entire time.
''I should just leave it to you the next time,'' the boy muttered.
''No!'' Harry exclaimed, not wanting to discourage the other. ''Look, all start is difficult, I didn't know half of this stuff a year ago, okay? I had to read lots and even have Malfoy of all people explain some things to me. With some experience, you can do this too. Just look at the solution you came up with for the altar, I wouldn't have thought of something like that!''
''You really think so?''
''Absolutely. Come on, we don't have too much time before Hermione will finish her rounds and wonder where we are.''
They took their places again, Harry taking the lead this time. ''Breathe in and out deeply, feel your magic. For me, it's a… tingly, warm feeling in my limbs; arms and hands especially. Concentrate on that, how it gathers at the palms of your hands, thickens in the air. Focus on the feeling you get when casting a spell. Pretend you're holding a wand if that works better for you.'' It took a few more times before Ron could say with certainty that he had the feeling. ''Close your eyes, hold onto that,'' Harry continued, although it was mostly so he could more openly communicate with Voldemort, who was still watching from outside the circle. While he didn't want to ask for more help than necessary, it would be good if he could mouth questions in case of getting stuck. Inhaling deeply, Harry started.
Not having any chalk to draw with, he took leftover salt and sprinkled it on each corner on the book that served as an altar, trying his best to form four Algiz runes for stability and protection of the ritual. In the centre, he drew a bindrune that Voldemort had described before, a combination of Hagalaz, Isa and Dagaz to indicate that the storm should rage this day still. He didn't have the resources or space to add specifics about the area, so Voldemort had suggested he build that into the spell instead. Having at least the minimum of protection wards in place, he focused on his magic too, feeling the warmth course through his arms. This power was neither light nor dark, with the potential to be changed into anything still with a few chosen words and gestures. Pure magic was almost the best feeling in the world, Harry found. Almost.
He raised his hands, palms sizzling as if charged with electricity as he concentrated with all of his might on the result he wanted to achieve. The candles, placed north and south of the altar for the natural flow of wind around the earth, flickered to life at a mere thought. The salt crystals that made up the runes glowed, and a rush of static energy shuddered through Harry's body. Opposite him, Ron stiffened, clearly feeling it too.
''Manannan mac y Leir, neach-glèidhidh nan geataichean, gairm a-mach an gaoth a tuath, fuachd is gailleann aig Hogwarts.'' The slip of paper lay at his feet forgotten; Voldemort spoke the words with him, pronouncing each syllable clearly and slowly for Harry to repeat so he wouldn't stumble over the strange words.
Ron's magic was added now too, it was odd how bright it felt considering that they weren't casting light magic. Did people have a certain natural affinity? He'd never asked about that… ''You can add the glass now, but leave out the grass and feathers.'' His friend carefully placed the piece of glass on the 'altar'. Harry repeated the chant once more, placing a single finger on the piece of glass. Tiny cracks spread across the shard's surface, which lit up as if a miniature storm raged inside. ''We surrender to the forces of nature and accept that the tides and skies cannot always be in our favour,'' he whispered, vocalising the sacrifice.
A thunderous crack rolled through the room. For a moment, Harry thought it had all gone wrong despite Voldemort's changes, but the next moment he threw his head back as the magic around them grew heavy and hungry. It whirled around, a wave of darkness which took the flames of the candles high, then snuffed them out. Harry barely noticed, caught up completely in the spell as it took effect, racing through his body. As it soared up through the ceiling, towards the sky, a feel of loss was all that remained.
Ron slumped down on the floor, grasping his chest. ''You okay?'' Harry asked, his voice cracking a bit.
''Merlin, that was… I can barely think straight. Is dark magic always like this?''
''Not always,'' Harry admitted. ''Depends a lot on the spell. I barely felt anything during that ritual to breathe underwater for example. Some are much heavier than others. My best guess is that weather magic is such a primal force that it's very close to the source.'' He looked up to get a confirmation from the Horcrux, but it had disappeared again. Maybe Harry had exhausted too much magic at once for it to retain its form. Odd, Harry realised suddenly that he'd started calling it Voldemort again while it had aided him in the ritual.
He shook his head, berating himself. No matter how similar they sometimes were, the two weren't the same. If they would be, there'd been no point in trying to get the Horcrux to talk to his older self yesterday in the hope that Voldemort would notice something was off.
''So, think it worked?''
''I hope so. We'll find out tomorrow, it should start forming now and hit within the coming day.'' He helped Ron up, who swayed a bit and staggered over to the beanbags.
''I'm not sure if I liked that,'' his friend muttered. ''At first, it was so intense and then… a bit painful.''
''Painful?'' Harry asked in surprise. While he'd certainly experienced pain practising dark magic, it had always been because of blood sacrifices or the like, never due to the magic itself.
''Yeah. It's hard to describe. As if I had a deep pain from inside my chest. It's gone now but… I'm not looking forward to the next time. You didn't feel that?''
Harry shook his head. ''It never hurt for me. You know what, I'll ask Sirius about it.''
''Yeah… Merlin's balls, we really need to get back or Hermione will skin us alive for staying out after curfew.'' Realising how late it really was, Harry agreed. He quickly checked to see if the potion was still fine while Ron cleaned up the circle. Right before leaving, they stuck the rolled up mandrake leaves under their tongue with a sticking charm and headed out.
They arrived at the common room without any problems, both of them plus their bags just about fitting under the invisibility cloak. Harry was glad to use it again, the cloak always made him feel secure, as if nothing could touch him. He denied Ron's request of still sitting by the fire and chatting a bit, still wanting to read a few books in bed before sleeping. The dorms were empty, but just to be sure, Harry drew the bed hangings close again. He didn't want to have to hide the covers of his books.
As much as he tried however, the lines of 'The Decline of Pagan Magic' which usually drew him in instantly, failed to catch his attention this evening. There was too much on his mind. He closed his fist around the Locket, the familiar weight comforting even though it was cold, inactive, its heartbeat slow and barely noticeable. That ritual really must have drawn a lot of magic…
Over the last month, Harry had become pretty good at gauging the Horcrux's strength. There were days where it could cast magic itself, and days where it could barely hold form. He'd figured out that the Locket drew from his own energy and magic every single day, just enough to keep mostly stable. It was in sharp contrast with the Diary-Horcrux, which had kept growing stronger by taking more and more until all magic and soul was drained from the 'host' it latched onto. Harry had to admit that he was always slightly relieved on days where the Locket was weakened, for it meant that it definitely wasn't using the same methods as the Diary had done.
On the other hand, it also made the teen a bit more uneasy each day about his own resolve to hand the Locket over to Voldemort eventually. The Horcrux could be a right bastard sometimes, trying to steer Harry however it wanted by using every method available, from vague threats to flattery to outright violence. And yet… Harry had to admit that he'd gotten a bit… attached. While it definitely wasn't Voldemort, it did still give him a window into the man's mind, especially his past mind.
Harry had learned that Voldemort had been twenty-three when creating the Locket-Horcrux, and had been well on his way to becoming a full-fledged Dark Lord, travelling across Europe to learn about various branches of magic, with plans to head to Asia soon. On nights with nothing else to do - which were admittedly sparse – Harry enjoyed listening to the Horcrux's stories about that journey or his time at Hogwarts. He tried to picture it now: a young Voldemort, still rather full of himself and impatient to gain power and knowledge, spreading his name everywhere he went to build up a reputation. According to the Horcrux, it had worked rather well. The right people could recognise him for a Chosen Lord, and by displaying his prowess in magic and willingness to become active, many supporters had flocked to him already.
It couldn't tell Harry much of what had happened after, of course. Harry knew from Dumbledore's memories that Voldemort had returned to Britain at around thirty-ish, after having created even one more Horcrux using a diadem, to ask for the position of DADA. He'd apparently taken all of his Horcruxes with him then and hidden them across the country, changing their hiding spots every decade or so when thinking there was a better, more secure, place. The Locket had only interacted with his older self at those times, receiving a brief overview of the current situation if Voldemort had been in a talkative mood. The Horcrux didn't like talking much about that, and Harry could imagine why. It had all the memories of Voldemort. In its mind, it was Voldemort, having trained in magic just as much, having made the same connections and having the same plans, only to then be locked up. It must have been horrible to wait around in some hiding spot, not knowing what was going on or if someone would ever talk to one again. The only hope it had clung to was that it served a higher purpose of protecting the existence of the being it was a part of. It had had no choice but to put its trust in the part of Voldemort lucky enough to remain in the main body. And now, through Harry, it had found out that its older self wasn't on 'the right path' anymore. It was a miracle that it didn't try to start a rebellion.
Perhaps the only thing that kept the Locket from doing exactly that, was its stubbornness to acknowledge mistakes. It still had the memory of choosing to make Horcruxes, choosing to create the Locket-Horcrux specifically, and then of splitting itself off. Rebelling now would mean admitting a fault, regretting something, and Voldemort had only learned much, much later how to handle that. It had taken dying for twelve years for the man to learn how to admit to and correct mistakes, Harry couldn't expect the Horcrux to do the same.
It couldn't last forever. Harry had promised Voldemort to tell him about the whereabouts of any soul-pieces he might stumble across, as unlikely as the Dark Lord had thought that to happen. And he'd tried: the Horcrux had taken his suggestion of rather possessing him and speaking to Voldemort through the mirror, over ignoring the call. Harry didn't know how it had gone – each time the Horcrux took over was merely a blank hole in his memory - but he could hope that it had slipped up. Admittedly, the Horcrux's help during lessons was great, as well as the additional teaching, but Harry didn't want to be used forever by a piece of soul that, by wanting to live, could create severe difficulties. Moreover, he didn't want to betray Voldemort's trust.
A sudden thought came to him. With how weak the Horcrux was right now, it was unlikely to materialise, and in its current form it could only hear anything Harry did, not see. Turning around, he fished Regulus' diaries from under the bed, wiping a bit of dust off the cover. The Horcrux had slowly made a habit of coming out at night, either talking to Harry or reading along in educational books to make improvements and other comments. Still not knowing why the Horcrux had ended up in Regulus' room, Harry had kept silent about the diaries, wanting to find out what had happened before asking the Horcrux about it. He didn't want another verbal or magical attack to happen, just because he mentioned Sirius' brother.
As such, he hadn't had many opportunities to continue reading the diaries, perhaps four or five times. It had still been enough to get an image of Regulus' ever-growing fascination with becoming a Death Eater and serving Voldemort - even if in name only as he was still a student – with the teen's wish finally being granted right before Yule. On 20 December 1977, at still 16 years of age, Regulus had received the Dark Mark. For months after, Regulus wrote of nothing but the feel of the Mark, secret meetings with other Death Eaters and the one 'mission' he'd received which was basically spying on other Hogwarts students as he had already done before. Until:
April 9, 1978
I was called yesterday through the Mark. I know that most would describe the feeling as painful, I've heard many a complaint about it, but I prefer to think of it as a hot blaze that purifies my magic and soul. - Harry mentally threw up a little at that 'poetic' description – Sneaking out posed a hurdle, but with a bit of help from my friends, I managed to find a way into the house of a sympathiser in Hogsmeade whose Floo I could use. Upon arrival, I met Him again, and the words fail me to accurately define my emotions beyond awe.
At first, I thought I had merely been called there to attend a meeting or to report, but I was far more fortunate than that! My cousin Bellatrix gained the position of right hand of the Dark Lord after proving herself enough in battle, and as family member to celebrate it with her, she chose me of all people. I spent the evening with just my cousin and the Dark Lord, able to give my opinion on many recent matters. After perhaps a few glasses of firewhisky too much, she recommended me as a student to the Dark Lord. I had never imagined that my cousin had watched me closely and was surprised by how much information she had on me: my marks, my friends, the way I interacted with my family…
So here I am not, back at Hogwarts and barely able to believe my luck. Not only have I been accepted into the Dark Lord's ranks, he will start teaching me personally as he did to Bellatrix for every Saturday that I can sneak out of Hogwarts.
Somehow, Harry hadn't really expected that. From what Sirius had told him, Regulus had been a new recruit and lowly Death Eater. From Barty's tales, he hadn't been able to pick up much more either. There had been many ways that Harry had imagined Voldemort and Regulus to develop a relationship, from Regulus simply wanting to skip the line by sleeping with his boss, to Voldemort ordering it and then not being able to let go – perhaps he even thought about that a bit too much – but he hadn't imagined Regulus to actually be good enough to become a personal student. That Bellatrix Lestrange had been Voldemort's right hand at the time was also new information to him. Harry had somehow expected it to be someone had also only been out of school for a couple of years back then. Though he supposed that that was true for most of the current Death Eaters… Malfoy, Snape and Barty also all hadn't been much older.
April 15, 1978
That dark magic can be so beautiful… I have been absolutely blind. My parents' crude methods are but a cracked imitation of what it is meant to be. The Dark Lord showed me wonders today: how to turn the sky from day to night at noon, how to ensnare the mind and how to create life from dust. The magic pours from him so easily, drenching each atom of existence to bend it to His will. I will have much to rethink, and I can understand why he was so angry at my mother now. Why he is angry with so many mages who merely use dark magic when they need a convenient curse to cause harm. It causes the stigma to grow. He even accepted my opinion on the backfiring wand that is the Cruciatus curse.
Harry smiled down at the pages, reliving his own discovery of how amazing dark magic could be through Regulus' experiences. The line about the Cruciatus curse gave food for thought. If people didn't want to instantly associate dark magic with pain and torture, it was of course not great to use a curse specifically created to torture people. Despite Regulus' words, Harry thought that Voldemort was still very fond of using it however, to instil fear and make his followers obey.
When continuing to read, Harry noticed that only Saturdays were still noteworthy enough to appear in the diary now. All talk of Hogwarts, even of the war, was neglected. Instead, Regulus only spoke of what he learnt, and the conversations he and Voldemort shared almost every week. It was both interesting and disturbing to read what had been on Voldemort's mind back then. Regulus was rather fond of introducing a system to indicate levels of blood-purity in the form of coloured bands or badges everyone would have to wear. Voldemort apparently considered it, although Harry couldn't tell if that was only to appease Regulus or not. The Slytherin sometimes tried to transcribe literal conversations they'd had, and by the lack of threats and violence, Harry noticed that Voldemort absolutely had a weak spot for Regulus already.
The entries kept getting shorter however, perhaps because Regulus had noticed that he would run out of pages if he kept going like this. By mid-June, around two thirds of the book had been used already. The only longer entry was on June 24th:
June 24, 1978
I came of age today. It's an odd thought really. Ever since Siri left, my parents have been trying to prepare me for adulthood as father wishes to hand over his political duties as soon as possible. Now it is time, yet I don't feel much different today than I did yesterday. I wonder how much I will even be able to do, since I'll still attend Hogwarts for one more year. I'll have to make the most out of it, and I finally can do so in good conscience now my brother and his friends graduated.
Mother rambled on and on about the disgrace of that students aren't given free days for Ministry duties since Dumbledore took over. As if ranting about it will help. I sometimes really do not understand my parents. They want the world to go back to how it once was, without lifting a finger for it themselves. Trust in the Dark Lord they say, but did they take His mark? No… I did, and I'll make sure real change happens. Finally, I also have the power to do so, especially since the Dark Lord ensured I have a permanent escape from Hogwarts whenever necessary. He gave me a Portkey today, as a birthday gift. I've never heard about him handing gifts to anyone, and though I realise it is mostly for practical purposes, I am... flattered nonetheless. Using the Dark Mark to travel to Him would be noticeable if I did it within the wards of Hogwarts, so this is a perfect solution to having to sneak out through the tunnels each time. It will also be a good solution for the coming two months, as I still haven't told my parents about the lessons I am receiving. I don't think they'd agree with them, especially not since the Dark Lord doesn't only teach me dark magic, but some difficult light spells as well.
I hope that, now I am an adult and soon-to-be Head of the Black family, I will be able to aid the Dark Lord even more.
Harry closed the diary softly, thinking about Regulus. The Slytherin had been so full of hopes and dreams, about all the wrong things like power and the suppression of the 'unworthy'. It gave Harry an uneasy feeling that he could still relate to Regulus so much after all that. He too wanted an out from his 'real' family, recognition, and a deeper understanding of the Dark Arts. Moreover, there was Voldemort… Harry only noticed that his fingers had sought the snake fang around his neck the moment his hand closed over it. Birthday gifts, huh? He'd received two from the man. Was it really such a rarity? If so, what did that mean?
Deciding he really needed to sleep now, Harry took off his glasses and hid the book under his bed again, where it could wait till the next time the Horcrux was inactive.
It was never a good idea to ignore orders for too long, Severus knew this. Being at Hogwarts, mostly out of sight of the Dark Lord and anyone associated with Him, gave a certain amount of freedom to act on his own schedule. Such as the freedom to think over the orders given to decide the best course of action. When he'd received a Floo call from Lucius two days ago, Severus most definitely hadn't expected to meet the Dark Lord again. He'd expected even less to being ordered to give Potter Occlumency lessons and having to sell that idea to Dumbledore instead of doing so secretly. He was in no position to ask why of course.
It highly annoyed him to have so few clues as to what was going on. At first glance, it all made perfect sense: whatever protection Potter had against surface Legilimency, - something Dumbledore ignorantly believed to be a naturally-developed shield – it didn't work against direct eye-contact. It would only be a matter of time before the Headmaster would get suspicious enough to use that more forcefully. Potter was far from infallible; a few misplaced words could be enough of a misstep that Potter's thoughts would be laid bare by the old man. Then there'd be hell to pay.
The harder one looked, the more illogical this order became. Barely two months ago, Severus had been on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's wand, about to be offed if he hadn't bent his neck. He wasn't trusted in the slightest, whereas Potter had managed to develop such a high standing that he was allowed to stay over at the Dark Lord's house over summer. Teaching Occlumency automatically meant intruding the student's thoughts, so it would be unavoidable for Severus to see much of Potter's mind if he were to teach the subject. He couldn't imagine there to not be any secret information he shouldn't be privy to. The conclusion he drew was that it was a hasty, desperate move, which instilled a great sense of unease. Something must have happened regarding Potter recently, else the Dark Lord could have waited until the holidays to teach the boy personally. Delegating it to a follower with fickle standing could only mean a crisis. Severus didn't like crises.
Not that he wouldn't use this to the fullest. It was a perfect opportunity to better his position, in both the Inner Circle and the Order if he played his cards right. For once, Potter's double life would have a positive influence on his own. Additionally, with access to Potter's mind he'd surely be able to find some interesting titbits of information. He'd always wondered for example, how it was that Potter spoke Parseltongue. After considering for a while to first observe to see if anything was different, in the end he decided that it would be fastest to figure out the situation by doing as told and casting Legilimency on the boy directly.
''Enter!'' came the answer to his knock. He strode into Dumbledore's office, letting his gaze wander across the room. The Phoenix was missing from its perch, and several instruments were whistling and spinning away. One of them was there to measure residual dark magic in the air, and the most annoying one in his opinion. Because of it, he needed to thoroughly cleanse himself each time before meeting the Headmaster if he'd used dark magic before. Severus dearly hoped that Potter had enough sense and knowledge to either perform cleansing rituals or shield himself from the instrument. The boy had been able to convince Dumbledore of the necessity of the magic cast during the Tournament, but surely wouldn't be able to use the same excuse this year.
''Severus, what brings you to such a high and light place as a tower?'' Dumbledore joked.
''Falling from a window is a much more graceful way to go than being slowly pestered to death by students,'' he snarkily replied. ''So if I could borrow your window, Albus…''
''Don't let the students hear you, you can't have anyone thinking you have a sense of humour,'' the man smiled. ''Do sit down. Tea?''
''No. Albus, it is about our… agreement. Potter.'' The usual venomous thoughts that always accompanied that name did not appear, nor the acidic taste of bile in his mouth.
''I've heard that Harry has been doing exceptionally well in class. Is this different with potions?''
Reluctantly, the potion master shook his head minimally. ''Surprisingly, he is almost acceptable this year.'' That was a gross understatement. As much as Severus would like to deny it, every single one of Potter's potions had been almost perfect. The only sensible explanation was that it had to be the result of the Dark Lord's teachings. ''I have been thinking,'' he said as soon as he was seated, leaning forward over Dumbledore's desk. ''It is bad enough that you think the Dark Lord returned. With Dolores Umbridge now here, you might not be able to keep Potter safe for long. As soon as you leave this castle, which we both know will happen at this rate, many defences will fall away. I do not want to be put into a position where I suddenly have to watch the boy non-stop.''
Dumbledore stroked his beard, peering over his half-moon spectacles. Had Severus not known this man for long enough, he'd have found this image of a sagely old wizard comforting. ''What are you suggesting?''
''I do not know what you have been teaching him, Albus, but I doubt practical magic was in the curriculum. Can he protect his own mind, at the very least?''
Wrinkles deepened on the aged forehead, and the Headmaster started stirring his tea. ''I told you that he has an exceptional mental defence that developed over the years. Even I cannot receive more than blurred images without direct eye-contact.''
''Exceptional isn't good enough when it comes to the Dark Lord. What good does it do me to keep an iron hold of my own mind when Potter could unknowingly feed our enemy all information on the Order he needs? Did you or did you not teach him proper Occlumency?''
''There is no reason to assume that Voldemort would have access to Harry's mind-''
Severus broke him off with a scoff. ''His scar forms a connection. Who knows what it can do other than cause Potter pain.''
The Headmaster didn't instantly reply. When he did, he spoke slowly, carefully. ''I admit that Harry has not been taught Occlumency, and the one time I had direct eye-contact with him, reading his thoughts was easy. You may be right in that there could be value in teaching him this skill. I did not wish to add to his schedule…'' Severus tried not to react to Dumbledore's admittance of using Legilimency on Potter. When had that been exactly? Had he seen anything damning? Anything at all? ''Since you are so concerned about it, may I assume that you will be the one to offer up your time in teaching Harry?''
''If I must,'' he stiffly replied. ''I doubt I can rest easy without knowing for certain that Potter has a perfect grip on his mind. My Vow of protection…'' he hinted.
Most creases disappeared from Dumbledore's worried face. ''Ah, there's that. If it eases your mind, I'll allow you to teach it. You are right, it will be a valuable skill, certainly when Voldemort will make an appearance and perhaps confront the dear boy directly. I will do what I can to prevent that from happening before Harry is ready, but one never knows. The Ministry certainly isn't helping matters at the moment, neither is the press. I'll leave it up to you then, Severus. I wished to speak to Harry anyways soon, I might as well invite him tomorrow and inform him of these lessons too. But Severus? Occlumency only,'' Dumbledore spoke in a warning tone. ''No fifteen-year-old should be tempted with the ability to pick apart the minds of those around him.''
He nodded in agreement and got up again, not planning on hanging around for more talk. His paranoia got the better of him right before he was about to leave though, and he faced the Headmaster. ''Albus, may I ask why you used Legilimency on Potter?''
The man looked as if he'd been caught doing something bad. ''Ah, it wasn't… planned. I'd gotten the feeling that Harry had been avoiding looking at me all year, so when he finally did, I acted on instinct, I suppose. I shouldn't have, I realise… but it did help me to confirm that my trust in Harry was not misplaced. Despite all the dubious magic he had to use during the Tournament, the one thing on his mind when I took a glimpse of it, was worry for me.''
''Worry? For you?'' Severus incredulously asked.
''Yes… most curious, isn't it? He went through so much, had a Death Eater after him, was thrown into a deadly contest. Then on the last day before leaving, he was worried because I looked tired and… sad. You never give him enough credit, Severus. For all your conviction that Harry is arrogant and selfish, his main concern has always been other people, even dark magic couldn't change that.''
''So you have full faith in this child then?'' he asked, tone absolutely neutral. ''Despite everything? Dark Arts, illegal books, the Prophecy that foretells he is a being to fear?''
''That he has the power to vanquish Voldemort, does not mean that he would have the heart to harm anyone else. No-one needs to fear him. Do you, my boy?''
''I do not fear children,'' he answered with a scoff, turning to walk out of the door. But as he descended the stairs and thought of Potter, something in his chest constricted and his hands trembled a slight bit. No, he didn't fear children, but he did fear what they could become in time. Dumbledore was an absolute fool if a fleeting moment of weakness from Potter was enough to fully restore his faith in the boy. Trusting people had always been one of the Headmaster's greatest weaknesses, right after being blind to his own faults. Severus could clearly see now why Potter had chosen to join the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore would never be able to understand, not even if he received a neat list with arguments. Trying to be good wasn't good enough.
He spent the rest of his Sunday evening trying to improve the formula for Skelegro. It kept his mind and hands busy enough not to constantly think of Potter. He wasn't so lucky the next day, as he had to teach the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins after the first short break. As much as he attempted to ignore Potter, he couldn't help but observe the boy from time to time, frowning as he noticed that the boy kept glancing at the wall now and then for no apparent reason. Interesting…
The rest of the day went by without anything of note happening. He'd passed Umbridge's inspections, so the woman didn't make his life difficult at the moment, harping on Trelawney instead. Severus tried to keep out of it. He knew that even if Umbridge could fire the woman, the headmaster would never allow the person who had prophesised the fall of the Dark Lord to leave the premises of Hogwarts. It might have been a different story if Dumbledore wouldn't be so convinced of the Dark Lord's return. Now, it was far too great a risk to let Trelawney go.
At nine, after he was finished giving a detention to Zacharias Smith, who had decided to be funny and sabotage a potion of a fellow student, Severus packed up all remaining work. There were still two hours left before he usually headed to bed, and there was a rather interesting new book about additional properties of roots in enhancement potions that he wished to read more of. Just as he put away a stack of graded essays, a soft knock sounded on the door. He growled quietly under his breath. Be it student or teacher, he really did not fancy giving up on his reading time. The knock sounded again, a tad more forceful now. Severus went to the door and pulled it open, adopting his most menacing stand as he filled the doorframe to scare away any pesky students.
He deflated slightly as he was met with a wary stare from two emerald eyes. ''Professor Dumbledore sent me,'' Potter spoke. ''About additional lessons.''
Severus arched an eyebrow. That had been much faster than expected, apparently he'd really given the Headmaster a scare with his talk of Potter's scar possibly linking to the Dark Lord. It was only a theory - Dumbledore's own theory - but it had worked. Severus himself didn't truly believe a link like that could exist beyond an echo of pain. ''Come in. How much has he told you?'' he replied, closing the door behind Potter and double-checking the security measures on the door.
''That with everything going on in the castle and Voldemort's return, he would rest easier when I can protect myself or something.''
''Do not say the Dark Lord's name here!'' Severus hissed automatically, a cold shiver running down his spine at the name, flashes of inhuman red eyes and memories of excruciating pain on the forefront of his mind. Potter had the nerve to give a short laugh at that.
''You do realise that I call him that to his face, yeah?''
Severus glowered at the tone Potter took and raised his wand to the boy's neck. All he received was a calm, cold stare back. ''I do not care for how much the Dark Lord himself permits your insolence. You are in my office, and I am still your teacher. I won't allow disrespect, neither to myself nor to the Dark Lord.''
''Fine,'' Potter spat. ''Sir.'' After another hard look, Severus removed his wand and instead used it to clear the space, chairs and desk moving to the sides. ''Since 'protecting myself' could mean quite a lot, I will need a few more details. Is this going to be similar to the duelling club from a few years back, bar the disaster that was Lockhart? Because if so, both Barty and Vol-, The Dark Lord, taught me duelling already.''
He did not outwardly react to that news, although it was not a good thought that Potter had been trained in duelling by two of the most proficient people he knew in that field. He'd never seen Crouch in action, but that he had been able to impersonate an ex-Auror with the magic to back it up said enough. What was Potter's skill level? Could he hold up in a fight?
''Not duelling. For some reason, it appears that the Headmaster still prefers a… passive approach to your training. How he expects you to defeat the Dark Lord one day is a mystery to me.''
''Same,'' the boy dully interjected ''Not that it matters.''
''Indeed. Thus, I have been given the task of teaching you how to protect your mind.''
''Occlumency?'' Potter frowned. ''Why would Dumbledore want me to learn that? Then I'd be able to keep him out of my mind as well.''
''I do not know what image you have of the Headmaster, Potter, but he does not usually go around randomly taking a peek into his students' minds. Also, you are not so important that he checks your every move and thought.''
''Are you defending Dumbledore?'' Potter asked, a tad aggressive. Severus sighed mentally, he really did not want to deal with a moody teenager right now. ''For the record, I know that he cast Legilimency on me the one moment I accidentally looked into his eyes.''
''Yes, because you just had to be so obvious about avoiding eye-contact throughout the entire year! Naturally, he wanted to know what you were hiding.''
''Look, this conversation is completely pointless,'' Potter spoke. ''I think we would both prefer not to have anything to do with each other besides potion lessons, okay? The Dark Lord did not want me to learn Occlumency until now, and I have enough mental protection to deal with Dumbledore or anyone else I don't want in my head. Can we just pretend that you are teaching me and leave it at that?''
''Because you only do what the Dark Lord orders you to?'' Severus scoffed. ''Here I thought you had a spine, Potter.''
''That's rich, coming from you. You grovelled at his feet.'' The boy bit back.
''I do not have time for bickering, Potter!'' he snapped, getting enough of this childish argument. ''I will teach you Occlumency and that's that! What you do with it after is your business, but you are a damned fool if you reject this opportunity! Do you have any idea how many people get the chance to study this obscure branch of magic? Less than a handful! So get yourself together.'' If the boy kept arguing like this, he might even need to reveal that it actually was the Dark Lord who had ordered this in the first place, which was rather undesirable since Severus didn't know the reason for it yet.
Potter started pacing back and forth a few times, glowering at the floor. ''Fine,'' he finally agreed, reluctantly.
''How gracious of you,'' Severus sneered. ''As it is getting late, I will lay down a few ground rules and then instantly start. You are to remain respectful and try your hardest to learn this as fast as possible. I am not exactly thrilled at having my free evenings compromised either and would like to keep these lessons to a minimum. Let's just hope that you aren't as incompetent at mind-magic as you are at brewing potions, else we will still be at it after you graduate.''
''Wow, you actually have enough confidence in me that you think I'll ever graduate? That's new,'' Potter said, throwing Severus off.
His scowl deepened. ''You are not taking this seriously enough, Potter!''
The boy made a frustrated noise and sat down without being invited to do so. He ruffled his hair in a way that was far too alike James Potter, then gave Severus a calculating look that was far too intelligent to have ever graced James' face. The duality of Harry Potter was uncomfortable territory, and Severus swallowed down another stream of degrading words, thinking of Lily's warning.
''I'll be respectful and cooperative when you follow a few rules of mine too,'' the boy had the audacity to demand. ''You won't insult me, you won't intentionally hurt me more than necessary -believe me, you'll notice when you try-, and you won't touch any memories from my childhood.''
'What do you mean with 'I will notice if I try to hurt you'? Is that a threat?''
''Not so much a threat as a fact. As fun as it would be to see what would happen if I don't tell you, I guess I will so you know that I am taking his seriously. I have a specific shielding spell on me that deflects any intentionally harmful magical and physical attacks back to the caster. Malfoy once tried to fling a spell at me and got blasted into a wall, while a couple of Acromantulas were literally killed when they tried to eat me.''
Severus had heard of such a shield existing, but had never seen it in action. He'd need to be incredibly careful then. At least Potter had told him… The boy could just as easily have omitted that fact and laughed if it harmed him, like James would surely have done. ''I can agree to most of your demands,'' he gave in. Constantly butting heads with his student wouldn't help either of them. He truly did want these lessons to last as short as possible. ''However, when teaching Occlumency, I do not search for specific memories, Potter. I cannot make a promise that I won't stumble across anything related to your childhood.''
He picked up a slight movement in the other's muscles as Potter hunched over a bit. ''Okay…'' he softly answered. ''I'd hoped… well. If you can't help it, then you can't.'' he hated how vulnerable Potter sounded at the moment and tried to pretend it was all an act to catch him off-guard. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped.
''Stand up, we're starting. How many times have you experienced Legilimency?''
''Oh, in total about… eight times I think, from three different people: Dumbledore, the Dark Lord and you. Could you explain why it always feels so different? Sir?''
Placated slightly by the more polite tone of the boy, Severus complied. ''It depends on several factors: the amount of magic put into the spell, the general nature of one's magic, the level of skill and the amount of care one puts into precision. The Dark Lord never was one for precision when it comes to this, he prefers to overwhelm the mind with pain to make access easier. It is hard to concentrate on defending the mind under torture. Dumbledore, on the other hand, attempts to be as unnoticeable as possible and covertly take glimpses into people's minds. The downside of it for him is that he can more easily be fooled by those who have perfected the barriers around their minds. Which reminds me, you do have some sort of barrier already, do you not? When advanced enough at Legilimency, the caster can read surface thoughts of those around him even without eye-contact. Yours are unreadable.''
''Ah, that's not by my own skill,'' Potter admitted. Big surprise there. ''Will that hinder these lessons?''
''It might. If you can disable this protection, we may progress faster.'' The potion master watched with carefully veiled fascination as Potter reached around his neck and took off a leather cord with an engraved snake fang on it that had been hidden under the school robes. The boy put the pendant on a shelf and faced his teacher again. ''Let's start then,'' he continued. ''Take your wand and try to defend your mind in any way you can. I heard that you were able to resist the Imperius curse, so you might not completely fail at this. Legilimens.'' He already knew that Potter would in fact fail as he cast the spell before the boy showed that he was ready. It was perhaps the most important lesson he could teach, Severus found. Enemies didn't wait, reflexes and awareness were just as important as magical skill.
To his great surprise, Potter actually did react instantly, raising his wand a split second before Severus' mind connected to the boy's. It wasn't enough though, for he didn't cast anything, just standing there as Snape slipped into Potter's thoughts and picked up images left and right. Ironically, the first few memories were from the boy's family. Minds could be arranged in many different ways. Some people had maze-like chambers, some a heap of disorderly memories and others, like Potter, had a completely chronological mind. It was as if he followed a timeline, jumping through the years. It also appeared that no memory seemed to be perceived as more important than others.
Harry was three years old, the first aware memory being light, five slits of light in otherwise total darkness. Harry was five, now old enough to realise that the light were the slits in the door of his cupboard, through which he tried to perceive the normal world he was cut off from. Harry was six, fleeing away from that normal world back into the safety of his cupboard after messing up breakfast and receiving his first broken bone- Severus tried to jump faster, trying not be shaken by what he saw. Eight years old: a teacher smiled apologetically as Harry confessed that his family hit him. Nine years old: the Dursleys laughed as Ripper the Bulldog chased Harry up a tree. Eleven years old: Dread as the Sorting Hat told him he'd do well in Slytherin. The memories became less stable and faster as they piled up from all the new experiences. Classes at Hogwarts, spells and faces, Quidditch games, Hermione lying in the hospital wing after that failed Polyjuice potion, Riddle's diary, the memory of a young Voldemort rising from the pages-
Finally there was a hint of resistance, and a sharp pain made Severus retreat. Potter hat hit him with a stinging hex to the wrist. He inspected it for a moment before healing the welt. ''Did you mean to do that?'' he asked Potter, who was breathing hard and had rather wild eyes.
''No,'' the boy admitted.
''I thought so. Remain focused, resist faster, you wasted much energy by flailing around and shouting nonsensical words.''
''You didn't tell me anything about how I am supposed to resist!'' Potter spoke, rather angrily. ''Should I cast defensive spells? Is there a specific defence against this?''
Severus pursed his lips. ''Magic is not an exact science, Potter. It is different for everyone, although you should not need to resort to using your wand. Clear your mind and keep your emotions in check. That way, you should be able to erect a mental barrier. Try again, Legilimens!''
The memories continued from the point where he'd left off, Potter's mind still in such disarray from the previous attack that he could easily find the same spot again. Dementors closed in on him at the lake with their rotting breaths and crusted hands. Sirius flew away on Buckbeak, the feeling of happiness and accomplishment being overshadowed by a pressing fear of having to return to the Dursleys again. Harry stood in front of a large house and knew that Voldemort would be waiting inside.-
A stinging hex threw him out again and Severus scowled. ''I said, do not resort to physical magic! The one casting Legilimency might not always be so easily reachable. Had I cast a shielding charm, this would have accomplished nothing. Also, did you really go to the Dark Lord's house right after your third year?''
''I thought I should face him alone without getting anyone I loved hurt,'' Potter mumbled. ''I get now that it was stupid, okay?''
Severus didn't deem that worth an answer. ''Control your emotions! You are showing me all the moments you were afraid, and I can use that to find similar memories. You would hand your enemies all of your weaknesses at once.''
''It is rather hard to control my emotions while having to relive all the times I was afraid!''
''You're not even trying! Again!''
Nagini bared her fangs at him. Barty barged in and demanded to know who he was. Voldemort looked at him with a calm gaze that betrayed he hadn't been ill for a while anymore. Pain spread through his forehead as Voldemort pressed cold fingers to the scar- A ball of mental energy hit him with such force that Severus broke the connection. He could have resisted it, but he thought he should at least give some feedback on it.
''Better. However, you are still trying to attack rather than defend. Walls and shields should be the answer, not force. By the time you gather enough energy to hurl at me, I've seen several memories already. Again.'' It was getting rather late, but he didn't want to send Potter away just yet, not now he'd gotten to the interesting parts. As he dived in this time, Severus tried to steer what he saw, instead of looking at the first memories that presented themselves. He wanted to know more about the time that Potter had spent in the presence of the Dark Lord. How had the boy gone from trying to kill the man to following him?
Talks, so many talks with Voldemort. Finally receiving answers to questions he'd had for years that Dumbledore had refused to speak of. Giving cooking instructions to Barty when the Death Eater refused to let him cook because he was hurt -so unlike the Dursleys-. Stories about his parents from people who hadn't been friends with them and could give a more objective view. Compassion from Barty, who even took him out for dinner on his birthday. Rituals that were, though painful, explained and interesting. He connected to Nagini, he was Nagini.
''No!''Potter cried out, throwing him out again, with more force this time than before.
''Far too slow again,'' Snape said, displeased. ''You are not erecting any barriers to prevent me from entering.'' He sighed in frustration. ''Enough for today, we shall continue Wednesday evening. I expect you to practise these next days. Empty your mind, meditate. I've seen in your mind that you can do so. You merely need to enable yourself to apply that knowledge in any situation instead of only when you are relaxed already.''
Potter left quickly, grabbing his bag and snake fang pendant without another word.
Severus sat down and leaned into the chair, closing his eyes to recall all the memories he had just seen. It made him… understand Potter, something he absolutely didn't want. Why oh why did he have to do this? What was the Dark Lord looking for?
He pushed back the sleeve of his robe and gazed pensively at the Dark Mark there, faded though it was. He wouldn't report anything yet, it was too early for that. Perhaps at the end of the week, when Potter had made some more progress. In two hours, he'd barely been able to cast Severus from his mind twice using only mental energy. It wasn't much, especially not since Potter went at it all wrong by going on the offensive. Gryffindors… Severus sometimes really wondered how Dumbledore had ended up in Gryffindor. Had the old man also been so rash and hot-headed in his youth? It was hard to imagine.
At least some of his own curiosity had been sated. The combination of Potter's broken childhood; people like Dumbledore who tried to shield the boy by withholding painful answers; and people like Crouch and the Dark Lord who readily offered those answers, had basically shoved him into the Dark Lord's arms. It also helped that the views and methods used now by the Dark side truly were not as radical as they had been before. Well, Severus was not going to complain, he'd always preferred the Dark Arts. A flash of one of Potter's memories came to mind again: the boy had seen through the eyes of the Dark Lord himself, who had in turn reminisced about the time he'd met Magic.
Severus let that sink in for a long moment, not knowing what to focus on first: that Potter truly did have a strong mental link to the Dark Lord, strong enough to see in his head, or that said man had really been chosen by Magic as he claimed. When Severus had been young, he'd of course heard from his mother about Lords of Magic, but he'd always believed that to be a fairy tale for children and gullible Pure-bloods. Now, he was forced to rethink that statement.
Even if Severus didn't know what he was searching for, these lessons might prove to be very useful after all.
Spell translation for the storm ritual: Manannan Mac Lir (God of Sea/Rain/Storm), Keeper of the Gates, summon the wind from the North, cold and storm, at Hogwarts
I hope it is all gramatically correct, I'm very sorry if there is a mistake in my Gàidhlig.
Please read and Review!
xx GeMerope