Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen - Occlumency
Snape had made Harry promise not to tell a soul about his Occlumency lessons. So, naturally, he told his two best friends about it immediately.
"Sounds like it could be useful," Millie commented, "Learning to guard your mind could give you added protection from the Imperius Curse, couldn't it? I'm a little jealous, actually…"
"Jealous? Of extra lessons with Snape?" Blaise gasped. "I'd rather have the nightmares!"
"Trust me," said Harry, "You wouldn't."
They were in the midst of preparing for the return trip to Hogwarts. Tonks had arrived early that morning, as she and Remus planned to escort the young people to their train. Harry hadn't seen much of Tonks since that summer, having been away at school for several months. But the passage of time hadn't made him forget Sirius's hint about her crush, and as he sat down to breakfast, he noted her behavior toward Remus with interest.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to join you, after all," Remus was saying as Harry and his friends filtered into the kitchen. "I'm feeling a little under the weather."
It was true that Remus looked more tired than usual. Harry didn't require an explanation for his frayed appearance. The full moon was approaching, and the days before his transformation were hard on him.
Even Harry's deep affection for Remus couldn't conceal the fact that he looked terrible. It was therefore a mystery to him why Tonks seemed so disappointed by the news that he wouldn't be joining her today, or why she was so solicitous for his care. When Remus advised that Sirius would be going in his place, Tonks immediately volunteered to remain at Grimmauld Place.
"Someone should stay here to keep an eye on things," she said, "I could help around the house. Let you get some rest."
Tonks was notoriously clumsy for an Auror, and the idea of her helping around the house was comical. Perhaps this was the reason for Remus's smile as he said, "We'll need two people to chaperone. We can't put the kids at risk."
Tonks's hair, a vivid magenta today, faded to an ocean blue. Harry smirked, feeling slightly offended that Tonks was only interested in spending time with them if Remus was around.
A moment later, their breakfast party was surprised by the arrival of Mrs. Zabini. They had all believed she would be helping Mrs. Weasley send her younger children off to school. Remus partially rose from his chair, perhaps thinking some other tragedy had occurred to disrupt their plans, but Mrs. Zabini's explanation settled their alarm in a moment.
"They decided to take the Knight Bus," she said smoothly, "Since that left me with some extra time, I thought I'd bring my car around. Torsh can drive everyone to the station."
Harry noticed that while Remus seemed pleased to see her, Tonks was looking sullen. Her dark blue hair had deepened even further. It was now nearly black.
"Since you've brought the car, I suppose Draco can ride with you?" Remus asked, "That will save you a trip, Sirius."
Harry's godfather had followed Mrs. Zabini into the kitchen. He noted the careful way Sirius had buttoned his shirt all the way to his throat. A silk necktie finished the look, though it didn't suit him. Harry knew what Sirius was attempting to hide, and merely keeping the curse mark out of sight did nothing to ease his anxiety.
"Looks like it will be you and me today, Edana," Sirius said with forced cheerfulness, avoiding Harry's gaze.
Now it was Mrs. Zabini's turn to look disappointed. Harry had the distinct impression that she, too, had been hoping for a private moment with Remus once the kids were gone.
When they finally muffled themselves against the chill January day, Tonks waved them off cheerfully, her hair now a florid pink.
Harry did not want to say goodbye to Sirius. He'd had a bad feeling about this parting ever since their trip to Godric's Hollow. Whenever he thought of the curse placed on Sirius, he couldn't get the image of his parents' grave out of his head.
He was busy constructing a final argument for why he should be allowed to remain with his godfather when they arrived at the station, and Sirius himself beckoned Harry aside. While Mrs. Zabini said her parting words to Blaise and reminded Draco of his mother's love, Sirius hastily placed a package into Harry's hands.
"I want you to take this," he said, "It's a way for us to talk without using the floo network. If Snape tries to give you a hard time, use it to contact me. But don't open it here! I'm not sure Edana would approve…"
He glanced at Mrs. Zabini, who had just turned toward them, ready to bid Harry farewell.
Harry accepted the parcel, though he replied, "I'm sure I'll be fine. Remus taught me how to deal with Snape."
Sirius smiled at him, and Harry knew the moment had come. He still didn't want to go. A part of him knew that Sirius wasn't being entirely honest about the mark on his chest. It must hurt. It had to be uncomfortable. He had to be scared... But before Harry could say something to him, anything at all, the whistle for the train began to blow, and Sirius hurried him away with a quick hug.
Blaise and Millie were perfectly prepared the next day during Potions class, when Snape criticized Harry's potion more forcefully than usual. Harry supposed it was his way of lending credence to the story that Harry required remedial lessons. Hermione, however, was not informed, and she was horrified when Harry advised her of his evening plans.
"Oh, Harry! What will you do if your potions score is below 'acceptable' on our OWLs? I've been studying all holiday, and I think my practice scores have been rather good. Would you like me to tutor you?"
Harry was flattered by her concern for him, and his heart skipped a beat at the idea of private lessons with Hermione. But clever as she was, she was no Occlumens. Harry regrettably declined her offer.
"We're already so busy with homework and Marauder's meetings," Harry reminded her, "I'd hate to make you miss out on your own study time for me."
"There's always Hogsmeade," Blaise remarked suddenly, "Didn't you see the notice board? We've got another trip next month."
"I don't think one day will be enough for tutoring…" Harry began, wondering why Blaise would even make the suggestion. He knew the real purpose of Harry's lessons, after all. But Blaise silenced his objection by covertly stomping on his foot.
He directed a significant glance at Harry and added, "It's on Valentine's Day."
Harry stared back at him, confused. Then something clicked into place. As the others grabbed their books and prepared to leave for their next class, Harry approached Hermione tentatively.
"Hermione… Can you hang back a second? There's something I want to ask you…"
"Is it about the Marauders?" Hermione asked, instantly checking her steps, "Have you found a new place to practice?"
"No! I mean, yes… But this isn't about that…"
"Did you want to talk about tutoring? Because I think if we compare our schedules, there'd be plenty of time… But you have quidditch practice, as well. I almost forgot…"
Neville was still standing beside Hermione, a curious expression on his face. Harry cast a desperate look at his friends, who had paused further down the hall. Blaise exchanged a word with Millie, who smirked and glanced back at them. Fortunately, they must have noticed Harry's difficulty, because Blaise abruptly descended upon Neville, wrapping an arm about his shoulders and wheeling him away with the words, "And what are your plans for Valentine's Day, Longbottom?"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, steeled himself for the plunge ahead, and began again, "I was going to ask about the Hogsmeade trip, actually. I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go together?"
"With Blaise and Millie?" Hermione asked, "Oh no, Harry. If we're going to plan a Marauder's meeting, it should be before next month. We don't want to lose any momentum we had before…"
"No," Harry interrupted, realizing that she thought he was proposing a group outing. He felt his face turn red as he clarified, "I was thinking we could go somewhere nice? Just the two of us?"
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening. Harry mistook her surprise as a refusal and was about to turn away in mortification, when she smiled and said, "Yes! Yes, I would love to."
"Oh… Well, great! Yeah, that's…" Harry stammered, both stunned and elated by his own success, "I guess I'll see you then! Or no, we'll see each other before that… But you know what I…"
Thankfully, Hermione found his awkwardness charming. She giggled, and asked if Harry would like to walk her to her next class.
"Gladly," Harry said, and they hurried away to rescue Neville, who was rather embarrassed by Blaise's close inspection into his plans for Valentine's Day.
By six o'clock that evening, Harry's good mood had not dissipated. His triumph at successfully asking Hermione on a date bolstered his spirits as he approached Snape's office door.
Snape's office was a shadowy room lined with shelves, each stocked with hundreds of glass jars. Harry looked about cheerfully, admiring the slimy bits of animals and plants that were suspended in each glass as if they were works of art, until his attention was attracted toward Snape's desk, on which a shallow stone basin engraved with runes had been placed.
He found himself wishing Millie were there to translate the symbols. If he had taken Ancient Runes instead of wand-making, perhaps then he would know what the basin was for.
Despite his high spirits, the oppressive ambiance and mysterious stone basin were already casting a gloom over Harry's mood. The sound of Snape's voice emanating from a darkened corner was enough to make him jump in fright.
"Shut the door behind you, Potter."
Harry laughed a little in spite of himself, hardly knowing what he thought was so funny. Perhaps his jubilation combined with the ominous atmosphere was making him giddy. After doing what he was told, he took the chair opposite Snape's desk and amused himself by grinning at the Potions Master in a way he knew to be insufferable.
"You know why you are here," Snape began, "The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than potions."
Harry laughed again as he said, "You and me both!"
Snape directed a sharp glance at him, then continued, "This may not be an ordinary class, Potter, but I am still your teacher. Not your friend. You will therefore address me as 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."
"Actually, I was thinking of calling you 'Sev' from now on," Harry remarked brightly, "Or how do you feel about Sevvy?"
Snape stared at him in astonishment. "What has gotten into you? Did someone slip you some Giggle Water? Did Remus put you up to this?"
Harry grinned in response, but merely shook his head. Although Remus had advised Harry to keep a positive attitude around Snape, despite everything he might say, he knew he had taken this charade a step too far.
Snape observed his silence disapprovingly and said, "No matter… I'll find out soon enough…"
Putting this ominous comment aside, Harry calmed himself, and asked Snape with a bit more solemnity, "Why does Professor Dumbledore want me trained in Occlumency anyway?"
Snape, apparently relieved that he was getting a serious question from Harry, answered promptly, "The Dark Lord is a skilled Legilimens…"
"Which is?"
"If you would let me finish…" Snape snapped, narrowing his eyes at Harry, "I was going to say that Legilimency is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind."
"He can read minds?" Harry blurted.
Snape smirked at his blunder. "The human mind is not as simple as opening a book, Potter. It cannot be read like the headlines of The Daily Prophet. Legilimency is an art. It takes skill. However, those that have mastered it are able to delve into the minds of their victims and interpret their feelings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him."
"Almost always?" Harry inquired, "So that's why you're a good spy! You know Occlumency, so you can lie to him without getting caught, right?"
Snape sneered, though Harry could tell he was pleased with the compliment. "It isn't quite as easy as you make it sound, but yes. That is why the headmaster feels I am best equipped to teach you this skill, as well."
A new fear asserted itself. Rather than keep it hidden, Harry voiced aloud, "Does that mean he can see into my mind right now?"
"The Dark Lord is far from Hogwarts. The walls and grounds are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the safety of those who dwell within them," Snape explained, "Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."
"So then why do I have to learn Occlumency?"
Snape eyed Harry. His cold, stony expression seemed to soften for a moment, but perhaps it was only Harry's imagination.
"The usual rules do not seem to apply to you," he admitted, "The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord… No, I don't mean a physical connection."
Harry's hand had reflexively moved to his scar. He lowered it, staring attentively at Snape as he continued, "I mean something similar to the connection that linked your wands during the duel. It's a connection that suggests that at times, when you are asleep for example, your mind is open to the Dark Lord. That you share his thoughts and emotions… We believe this is what allowed you to see into the Dark Lord's mind when he was manipulating the serpent Nagini. As yet, the Dark Lord seems to be unaware of this connection. But were he to discover it, it is possible he would attempt to use this connection to manipulate you, as well."
Snape allowed Harry to sit with this rather chilling prospect as he pulled out his wand and raised it to his temple. When he removed it, a thick gossamer strand stretched from the tip of his wand to his head. When it broke away, It fell gracefully from his wand into the stone basin, where it swirled in a silvery mass, neither gas nor liquid. Snape did this three times, never offering an explanation to Harry, before picking up the basin and moving it carefully out of the way. Harry gazed at the silvery light emanating from the basin. It looked familiar to him, almost like the shimmering light of a patronus.
Snape instructed him to stand, already holding his wand at the ready. Harry rose to his feet, his good mood completely vanquished now that they were about to begin.
"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me," Snape said, "Or defend yourself in any way you can think of."
"And what are you going to do?" Harry asked warily.
Snape smiled at him in a truly unpleasant way and said, "I am about to break into your mind. We will see how well you resist… Legilimens!"
The attack came before Harry was prepared for it. Images began to rush wild and unbidden through his mind. Suddenly, he was reliving memories he hadn't thought about in years… He was five, watching Dudley ride around on a new bicycle, his heart bursting with jealousy and anguish that his Aunt and Uncle never treated him the same… He was nine, and Aunt Marge's bulldog was chasing him up a tree as the Dursleys laughed below… He was eleven, sitting under the Sorting Hat, begging it not to place him in Slytherin, feeling cold disappointment when the hat cheekily acted against his wishes... Nell, with shorter hair and wearing the boys' uniform, laying petrified on the floor next to the Grey Lady… A hundred dementors closing in on him beside a dark late… Hermione smiling shyly at him as she offered Harry her hand…
No… said a voice in Harry's head. He didn't want Snape to know about his date. He didn't want his sneer to spoil everything…
He felt a sharp pain in his knee. Snape's office snapped back into focus, and he realized he had fallen to the floor. He looked up at Snape, who was rubbing his wrist meditatively.
"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Snape coolly.
"No," Harry answered, pushing himself off the floor.
Snape nodded in a way that was almost appreciative. "Not bad, for a first attempt. But you let me go too far. You lost control."
"I don't suppose you could give me any tips?" Harry muttered bitterly, "You are supposed to be teaching me, after all."
To Harry's surprise, Snape complied with good grace.
"I would suggest ridding yourself of all emotion. Close your eyes…"
Harry tried, but it was difficult to comply with Snape's instruction. How was he supposed to rid himself of all emotion? He'd been so plagued with worry all year… No, it started even before that. Since Professor Moody died, he'd been in a state of mild panic, always wondering where Voldemort was… what he was planning… Snape was speaking to him again, but Harry was lost in his own thoughts, completely unprepared for the next assault.
"Legilimens!"
A great black dragon was rearing in front of him… His father and mother were waving at him through old photographs… Professor Moody was laying on the ground, his magical eye still spinning in his motionless face…
Harry screamed. He was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands.
"Get up!" Snape shouted, his voice colored with rage, "You're not trying hard enough! You're allowing me to access memories you fear, giving me weapons to use against you!"
"I am trying!" Harry seethed, his anger rivaling Snape's, "But I can't… I can't just turn off my emotions like you can!"
He meant to wound him, but something in his tone had the opposite effect. Snape, softer now, came to kneel in front of Harry.
"The Dark Lord will not wait for you to prepare yourself," he said in a lower voice, "He will strike quickly and without warning. You must be able to control your emotions."
He held out his hand. Harry accepted it, allowing the Potions Master to help him back to his feet, though he was still bitterly angry. It seemed to him that this would be easier if Snape actually instructed him on how to control his feelings, rather than attack him again and again. But he knew his objection would only result in another lecture, and he prepared himself in silence for the next assault of memories.
"Legilimens!"
He was watching Uncle Vernon weld bars across his window… Mrs. Zabini was bursting through his bedroom door, Blaise's curious face just over her shoulder… A large black dog was playing fetch with him in the garden… Sirius was hugging him… Telling him how proud he was… He was staring at a statue in the middle of a town square… now a white marble headstone…
No… He didn't want Snape to see these memories. He didn't want him to mock his affection for his godfather, or to share in what little Harry had to remember his parents. These were private thoughts. For him alone…
"Expelliarmus!"
For a split second, Harry believed that Snape had lifted the spell. Then he saw that Snape's wand was gone. It had clattered across the floor several feet away. Harry hadn't managed to block him from his mind, but somehow or another, he'd managed to disarm him.
Rather than be angry, Snape seemed rather pleased.
"Well done, Potter…" he said smugly, "That's more than I expected from our first lesson."
Harry was pleased too, but for another reason entirely. Snape hadn't seemed to notice that Harry's wand, though gripped tightly in his fist, was never raised against him. He had been too overwhelmed by the flood of memories to take any conscious action. It was a miracle he had uttered an incantation at all. But he had disarmed Snape… And he hadn't used his wand.
"That's enough for one evening," Snape continued, his slow drawl barely making an impression on Harry, whose mind was wrapped in his own thoughts, "I want you to practice ridding yourself of emotion every night before bed, and meet me here at the same time on Wednesday."
Harry had every intention of following Snape's instruction, but he was too excited about this sudden and unexpected breakthrough. Ever since his duel with Voldemort in the graveyard, Harry had a certain wary curiosity about his wand. The connection that seemed to exist between himself and Voldemort made him distrust the twin cores even more, and he often found himself, in those rare moments when he wasn't worried about other things, considering the instruction he had received from Professor Nobilis. His wand-making instructor had given him some insight on the workings of wandless magic, but it was something he had never accomplished himself.
What had been different? he asked himself as he made his way toward his dormitory. He had made a few feeble attempts in his idle moments, but couldn't cast a spell without a wand the same way the Professor had.
Harry reflected on his lesson with Snape. He'd been angry, frustrated, scared… Was that the secret? Were the emotions Snape advised him to suppress the very thing that allowed him to produce the spell?
Blaise must have been in the library, still working on homework, as their dormitory was empty when he arrived. Harry sat on his bed and focused. Snape told him to empty his mind. But what if emotion was the secret, after all? What if learning mastering one skill closed him off to the possibility of learning another?
Rather than emptying his mind, Harry tried to tap into the same feelings he'd experienced in Snape's office. His wand was purposely out of reach. Rather than use it to accomplish his aim, he extended his hand forward, pointing it at Crabbe's empty bed.
He kept his eyes open, focusing on the bedclothes. He focused on the memories he'd been forced to relieve in Snape's office. The sadness, the anger, the desperation…
Pain ripped through his scar, more sharp and severe than he'd ever felt it before, as if someone had driven a knife into his skull. He was no longer conscious of who or where he was, nor even if he was standing or sitting. Loud, maniacal laughter rang in his ears. He was happier than he had been in a very long time… Jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant… Something wonderful had just happened…
"Harry? Harry!"
He came to his senses as Blaise shook him roughly by his shoulders. It was only then that Harry realized the insane laughter came from his own mouth. He stopped abruptly and began panting instead. He was covered in a cold seat. Blaise stood over him, staring at him fearfully. Across the room, Crabbe was cursing as he tried to extinguish the flames that had erupted on his bed.
Blaise, without glancing at him, flicked his wand at the flames. The fire was suppressed, leaving only the smell of smoke and ash in its wake.
"The hell's your problem, Potter?" Crabbe grumbled, though he seemed unwilling to get close enough to really threaten him.
Blaise, still ignoring his complaints, asked in a serious tone, "What happened?"
Harry rose onto his unsteady legs and grabbed Blaise, pulling him from their room and down the stairs. It hadn't felt like any time had passed, but the common room was empty, and Harry felt his heart pound as he wondered how long had been alone, laughing in that empty room…
"I had another vision…" Harry explained breathlessly.
Blaise, his eyes widening in alarm, asked "Has there been another attack?"
"No," Harry said, "It wasn't like… I didn't see anything, but I felt… happy. Really, really happy. Something good's happened, but not for us…"
The words came as though a stranger were speaking them through Harry's mouth, and yet he knew they were true. He took deep breaths, grounding himself as best as he could, and thankful that he hadn't vomited this time.
Blaise watched him in silence for several seconds, then reached forward, gripping Harry by his shoulders as he looked into his eyes.
"Listen to me. You've got to get this under control. It could be dangerous if you…"
"I know, and I'm trying," Harry said, though he felt guilty at the lie, "But we've got a bigger problem now! What's happened? What could have happened to make Voldemort the happiest he's been in fourteen years?"