Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Anything recognizable from the series belongs to J.K. Rowling; none of it is mine.
Chapter 3: Occlumency Again
At ten minutes to eight on Monday night, Harry left Gryffindor Tower to go to his dreaded Occlumency lesson. He wasn't sure what Snape's demeanour towards him would be like; he could only hope that both of them would pretend nothing significant happened. Harry's footsteps echoed as he walked down the dungeon corridor; when the sound finally stopped as Harry stood in front of Snape's office door, he didn't even have to knock when Snape invited him in.
Harry tentatively pushed the door open and closed the door shut.
"Sit down, Potter," Snape said as he faced a cabinet behind his desk. He then shut and deadbolted the door. From the crack between the doors, Harry recognized a silver glowing mist that belonged to the Pensive. He felt a twinge of guilt and awkwardness at the reason why Snape was being so protective of the Pensive.
Snape silently approached Harry, who tried to keep a straight face and looked obstinately at the area between Snape's eyebrows to avoid making eye contact. Snape sat down behind his desk, facing Harry who sat in the chair across from him.
Snape began to speak, his voice quiet, yet clear. "Despite how abysmal you prove to be at occluding your mind," Snape paused, his lip curling, to observe Harry, who kept his face stubbornly blank, "it seems you have, quite the resolve to block out the Dark Lord." Harry's insides bubbled at the mockery. He wanted to let Snape know that he had no choice, that it was Sirius who insisted on Harry continuing, but decided against it and forced his mouth shut.
"Have you been clearing your mind, Potter?" Snape asked.
Harry's gaze shifted to Snape's hooked nose. "Yes sir," he fibbed.
"We shall see if that's true." He pulled out his wand and pointed it in Harry's direction. "Legilimens!"
Harry was caught off guard as his mind instantly began teeming with memories. He was seven, cowered on the pavement behind his school, Dudley and his gang surrounding him…. He was eleven looking at his parents' reflections in the Mirror or Erised…. He was thirteen, watching helplessly as Pettigrew escaped again…. He was in the maze, telling Cedric to take the cup with him….
"STOP IT!"
Harry realised he was kneeling on the cold stone floor. His hands were shaking and his breath was unsteady as guilt resurfaced in his mind. It was quickly pushed away with waves of anger towards Snape for constantly prodding into any memories involving Cedric. He had thought Snape would go easy on him considering that he finally must have understood what it felt like to have unpleasant memories witnessed by someone else, but his actions proved that sympathy was unknown to him.
"Potter!" Snape said cuttingly. "You are not in control of your emotions at all! You must not let your memories control how you feel!"
Harry gave Snape the dirtiest look he could muster. "I can't focus at all if you're just gonna force me to see Cedric over and over agai —"
"You think the Dark Lord will be mindful of your most vulnerable memories when he invades your mind?" Snape rebuked icily. "No. He will take advantage of your emotions. The more vulnerable you are, the easier it is for him to take control."
Snape looked at Harry, who was still seething. "Your current state doesn't prove my words otherwise."
Both of them sat there for a few moments, as Harry continued to pant and looked everywhere beside Snape, who abruptly stood up.
His breaths beginning to abate, Harry watched as Snape approached his cupboard and extracted a small vial of purple liquid from a rack of similarly coloured ones. He walked back to Harry and shoved the vial in front of his face. "Drink this," Snape commanded.
Harry looked apprehensively at the innocent vial. He bunched his eyebrows together as he looked into Snape's face, wondering if he genuinely expected Harry to drink an unknown substance from him, of all people.
"I can assure you, Potter," Snape added softly, his lips curling into a sneer, "I would be in a much more convivial mood if I were about to witness your death from poisoning."
Cursing Snape in his mind, Harry took the vial, uncorked it, and raised it slightly, staring at it. "It's a calming draught, Potter," Snape snapped impatiently as Harry showed no intention of consuming the contents. "Do not waste any more of my time and drink the potion!"
Harry, who felt that he would rather face a whole army of blast-ended skrewts rather than drink something Snape gave him, unwillingly raised the vial up to his lips and tipped the liquid down his throat.
The calming draught had a strange effect indeed; as Harry felt the contents sliding down his oesophagus, a sense of warmth and relaxation trickled throughout his body as the potion travelled downwards to his stomach. His hands ceased their trembling and his face dropped into an expression of ease; he had not even noticed how pinched up his visage was prior. He looked up at Snape, realising all the hatred he felt for him was gone; instead, it was replaced with an unusual feeling of serenity. Hate. It was such an odd thing to feel in Harry's mind. He wondered why he had been previously feeling such abhorrence towards his Potions Master; it felt much better to not be plagued with such emotions.
Harry stared at the look on Snape's face, which was twisted into a scowl. He wondered why Snape would wear such an ugly expression. When Snape's contorted face did not abate, Harry had to bite back a laugh.
"Alright Potter," Snape started, advancing on Harry. "Now that your emotions are incapacitated, we shall see if you are capable of blocking me out. Legilimens!"
Harry had no warning, but he wasn't able to feel startled. Memories started flashing in front of him, but this time, Harry had a strange feeling of being well-prepared. When his visions shifted to seeing Cedric lying dead on the grass, a feeling of emptiness overcame him. It was as though Harry had forgotten what to feel; he racked his brains, trying to recall the remorse and fear he felt when he first experienced the scene, but nothing came up.
"Focus, Potter! Occlude me from your mind!"
Occlude. That's right. Tearing his eyes away from Cedric's limp body, Harry tried ignoring the scene in front of him and began clearing his mind. Focus. Focus. He chanted this in his mind until he realised that black clouds beginning from his peripheral vision inched towards the centre of his view. The clouds spread across his vision until Harry no longer saw the graveyard. Only darkness remained. It stayed like that for a few moments until Harry felt a backward thrust as if someone had forcefully separated themselves from him. He opened his eyes to see Snape's face, who was staring at him intensely.
"You seem to have been able to push me out when you are under the influence of the calming draught. That does not reflect your skill as an Occlumens, however, as the point of Occlumency is to be able to imitate the effects of the calming draught independently."
"Then what was the point of giving me the draught then, sir?" Harry inquired curiously, not feeling vexed by Snape's words.
Snape's eyes continued to bore into Harry, who did not feel intimidated. "Every night leading to our next lesson, before you go to bed, I want you to remember how you felt just now, and imitate the blankness of emotions. See if you can perform similarly while not being drugged next time." Snape walked to the door and unlocked it with a flick of his wand. "You are dismissed. Until next time, Potter."
"POTTER!"
Harry's eyes flew open. It was a few weeks after the Occlumency lesson where Snape had given him a calming draught. He looked up at Snape's glowering face.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape growled. "It has been nearly five months of me sacrificing my evenings trying to drill Occlumency into your head. As thick as your skull may be, I am simply astounded that you have made it this long with barely any progress. Do you even try to control your emotions?"
"Yes," Harry shot back defiantly. "But it's getting more difficult every ti—"
"I think," Snape cut in, his voice deadly soft, "that you think it is beneficial to see into the Dark Lord's mind. Am I wrong, Potter?"
Harry bristled at the statement. Annoyed at Snape's taunting, he did not bother lying while answering. "Well, I mean, yeah! Who else could have known Mr. Weasley was attacked that night?"
"I see," Snape said, sounding surprisingly calm. "You have a hero's complex." Snape's lips turned up in a sarcastic smile. "And it seems as though you gain a sense of importance for having access to the privacy of the Dark Lord's mind."
Harry was about to open his mouth to object that it wasn't like that, but Snape beat him to it.
"I see no point in continuing these lessons if you're not planning on cooperating."
Harry was stunned at Snape's words. "Besides," Snape continued, "I suspect you may have already reached the extent of Occlumency your dim-witted mind allows you to have knowledge of."
Harry didn't quite believe that Snape wasn't pulling his leg. "What will Dumbledore say though?"
"Dumbledore is not here at the moment," Snape reminded him. "But I doubt even Dumbledore can deny how utterly hopeless you are at Occlumency."
Before Harry had a chance to express his indignance at Snape's words, Snape continued. "Despite how special you may feel with these visions of yours, it is likely that the Dark Lord will take advantage of this connection and send you a false one, thus luring us into misconception. Therefore, it is absolutely vital that you come to me and let me know whenever you have experienced these visions. Every single one." Snape enunciated the last three words, displaying his yellow teeth. "Do you understand, Potter?"
Harry didn't know how to respond other than nod. He had visions quite often, and he doubted whether Snape would have the patience to hear about what he saw.
Snape, who understood what Harry was thinking, leaned forward and added quietly, "I understand that you wish to keep our interactions limited, Potter. I can assure you, the feeling is mutual. However, letting me have knowledge of these visions is important, and even I am willing to tolerate your presence whenever you need to tell me so. Understood?"
Harry nodded, once again.
"Good. You are dismissed. Remember, do not hesitate to let me know."
With that, Snape sat back at his desk, picked up a quill, and began scratching abysmal grades on the stack of essays he was grading.
Harry's heart was thundering, as if ready to burst out of his chest any moment now. He sprinted away from the Great Hall as Professor Tofty closed the doors to the spacious room with his classmates still sitting in rows, attention diverted from the History of Magic exam and instead, speculating on Harry's recent outburst. Harry didn't have time to feel embarrassed about falling asleep and waking up screaming in the middle of the exam; he was still deeply disturbed by the vision of Sirius being tortured. Harry needed to use the mirror that was currently in his dormitory to see whether Sirius was safe or not. If not — Harry swallowed at the thought — he would have to tell Snape. As much as Harry resented turning to Snape for help, he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and McGonagall was indisposed right now.
He barely even noticed where he was going but miraculously ended up in front of the Fat Lady.
"Venus de Milo," Harry gasped at the portrait. It swung open and he tripped over the threshold in haste. Dashing up toward his dormitory, Harry tried to rationalise with himself.
Remember what Snape had said? He told himself. Voldemort could take advantage of this connection and trick me. Despite this, his heart did not beat any lighter against his ribcage when he pushed the door open and picked up the mirror on his bedside table.
"Sirius!" Harry did not care how desperate he sounded. As Harry waited, he looked at his pale expression on the glass. A few moments passed, and his reflection continued to stare back at him.
"Sirius Black!" Harry hollered. Sirius did not appear.
Harry's heart only pounded more furiously than ever. His hands started to shake. "Sirius, just pick up the damn mirror already! Plea —"
"Merlin, Harry! What's wrong? What happened?" Sirius' bemused face came into Harry's view. Harry could only stare at Sirius as he studied the mirror, making sure that he was actually seeing rather than hallucinating. His heart slowed to a steadier pace, and Harry took deep huffs of air as he calmed down.
"... hear me? Are you alright, Harry?" Breathing quite heavily, Harry only just registered that Sirius was talking to him, who was sounding increasingly frantic as he didn't answer and stared blankly on.
"I, er, yeah, I'm alright," Harry said between short breaths. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Sirius, are you in Grimmauld Place?
"I've been here all day, it's not like I have anywhere else to go," Sirius frowned. "Harry, you're freaking me out right now, what happened to you?"
"It's, er, nothing." Harry sat down on his bed and rubbed his face with one hand. "Nothing," he clarified. "I just freaked out."
"Oh," came Sirius' voice. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
Harry nodded and recounted everything he saw in the vision. When he finished, Sirius looked slightly unsettled.
"I've been in Grimmauld Place this whole time. Are you sure it was a vision and not a dream?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I can usually tell which is which."
Harry's words did little to cease the look of puzzlement on Sirius' face. In fact, a look of dread added to the confusion. "You're absolutely sure your vision took place in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry nodded. "Oh Merlin, it's happening," Sirius muttered.
"What? What's happening?"
Sirius grimaced. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Dumbledore had mentioned in an Order meeting that something like this might happen, it's partly why he wanted you to study Occlumency; that Voldemort will try to lure you into the Ministry… to get the thing he's after."
It was Harry's turn to look confused. "What? You mean the weapon? Why does he need me? Why can't he ask someone else to get it for him?"
Sirius looked even more uncomfortable. "I really wish I could tell you, but Dumbledore made me swear not to, not without his permission at least. I'll tell you what: I think it's time you know, considering you've had this vision. When Dumbledore makes a reappearance I'll somehow try to convince him."
Harry was disgruntled that even Sirius would keep information from him; he wanted to express frustration towards the information constantly being withheld from him — especially since the information concerned himself — but decided against it; he did not want to quarrel with his godfather right after finding out that Sirius was indeed safe and alive. Harry let his feelings go with a sigh. He decided to change the subject.
"I need to tell Snape about this though, he wanted me to tell him about all my visions. I reckon the fact that it's fake makes it even more crucial to do so."
"Right," Sirius agreed. "Are you going to see him now?"
"Yeah. But wait," Harry interjected. "If you don't mind me asking, what took you so long to answer? I thought you carried the mirror in your pocket."
"Ah. I went in to check on Buckbeak and he somehow has two gashes on his side, and they were pretty deep, which is strange, because one, his front legs can't reach that part of his body, and two, his talons were clipped two days before so they're still pretty blunt, so he can't have done it himself. I still tending to him when you called, hence the delay."
"That is strange," Harry agreed. "Are there any sharp objects in the room?"
Sirius looked around, evidently still in Buckbeak's room. "Good point, but no. I'll guess I should investigate the cause."
Harry mused the situation and started tentatively, "Sirius, I don't think it's just a coincidence that I've had a false vision of you getting tortured while Buckbeak is mysteriously injured, causing you to be preoccupied. I don't mean to point fingers, but do you remember the last person who was at the Headquarters? Maybe they had a plan and somehow injured Buckbeak."
"I doubt it. The last person who came to visit was 'Dung, and all he did was persuade me to buy his contraband, so he was in my sight the whole time. Not to mention that I went to feed Buckbeak some rats right after he left. I found Buckbeak injured about twenty minutes ago, and 'Dung left three hours before."
"Oh, well, hope you find out what's going on. I'll go to the dungeons now to tell Snape. Maybe he'll know what to do. Listen, I'll catch you later, I've got to go see Snape now."
"Alright then. Good luck with Snape. See you soon."
"Bye," Harry said.
As soon as the call ended Harry shoved the mirror under his pillow and dropped his bag onto his bed; he wouldn't be needing it anymore. History of Magic was the last exam, and though Harry thought he should feel at least a little bit remorseful for only finishing a few questions before dozing off, he was glad that exams were finally over. Who would care if he flunked the History of Magic O.W.L? Sirius was safe, and Harry wasn't planning on taking the N.E.W.T. History of Magic anyways.
He ran into Ron and Hermione, who were evidently worried and searching for him, on the way to the stairway that led to the dungeons.
"Blimey, Harry, are you alright? What happened back there?" Ron asked, his eyebrows raised in concern.
Harry assured his friends that he was fine, and calmly recounted his vision to his talk with Sirius, only leaving out the part where Sirius told him about Voldemort's plan to involve Harry to retrieve the weapon Voldemort was after; he didn't want to cause more panic and confusion for his friends. Harry whispered and kept an eye out to make sure no one walking by was able to hear.
After Harry finished, Ron had a dark look on his face. "You don't think," he murmured, "that the person who injured Buckbeak was — Kreacher?"
Hermione looked scandalised at the accusation. "Honestly, Ron, you shouldn't make assumptions just because Kreacher acts a bit odd. This is just like people accusing Winky last year at the World Cup! But it all turned out to be Crouch righ —"
Ron cut her off. "All the evidence points to Kreacher. He's the only one at Grimmauld Place besides Sirius, and he absolutely worships everyone in Sirus' family besides Sirius, who were all supporters of You-Know-Who. Maybe he was in on a plan to trick Harry —"
"Honestly, Ron. Kreacher is confined to Grimmauld Place, and Sirius won't ever allow him to leave Headquarters! Also, he obviously can't bring people to Grimmauld Place to plan such a thing either, so there's no way it's him!"
Ron looked slightly stumped at this revelation. He shrugged, jerking his shoulders. "Well, maybe he had other means of communication that finds a loophole in Sirius' rules," Ron said stubbornly.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. She turned to Harry. "Well, Harry, I'm glad Sirius is alright. You were about to go to tell Snape about your vision, right? You shouldn't waste any more time and go down there. I doubt Snape would be happy if you delayed relaying your vision to him."
"Yeah, thanks, Hermione. See you, Ron." Harry took off in the opposite direction of Ron and Hermione, who both continued bickering about Kreacher's involvement.
Harry thought that Ron made a good point. Kreacher had been the only one at Grimmauld Place to hurt Buckbeak unless Sirius blacked out and did it himself unknowingly, which was unlikely. Hermione also made a good argument though; Kreacher would have no way of being part of a plan to lure Harry into Voldemort's plans unless this whole thing had been a coincidence.
He stepped off the last step and entered the cold dungeon. Ridding his mind of all thoughts, Harry walked up to Snape's door office and knocked.
"Come in," said Snape.
Harry opened the door to find Snape sitting at his desk, having already started grading exams. "Potter," Snape said as a greeting. "What brings you here?"
"I've just had a vision, sir. I reckon it's a fake vision that Voldemort somehow sent me. I thought you'd like to know."
Snape put down the quill and folded his hands in front of him, his attention enraptured. "Tell me about your vision, and why you think it is falsified."
So Harry retold his vision for the third time while adding in his conversation with Sirius that confirmed the vision was fake. After Harry finished, Snape stood up from his desk and went to the cabinet where the Pensive was stored.
"Did Black tell you why the Dark Lord sent you a falsified vision?" Snape asked as he tapped the cabinet with his wand, unlocking it to reveal the Pensive.
"Not really, but he told me that Dumbledore thought something like this might happen."
"And it seems that the Dark Lord has done accordingly." Snape brought the Pensive out and plopped it on his desk. "Can you think of this vision very clearly?"
Harry knew at once what Snape was going to do; he would ask Harry to extract the memory and investigate it himself while the Pensive.
"Yes, but how do I —"
"Keep the vision in the forefront of your mind. Then, bring your wand to touch your temple and drag it away while concentrating on the memory. The memory should fade as you do so."
Harry obliged Snape's words and brought his wand to his head and recounted the vision very carefully. He began pulling his wand away from himself and felt a sensation of gentle tugging. The vision faded out, and Harry noticed that a long, silvery strand was dangling from the tip of his wand. Snape jerked his hand to motion for Harry to drop the memory into the pensive. Harry brought his wand over the stone bowl and shook it slightly to let the memory fall; it did so, gracefully, and the liquid of the pensive shimmered as the strand fell through.
Snape pointed to the door and followed Harry on his way out. He stopped near the threshold and waited until Harry was in the corridor.
"Wait here, while I check your vision. I must say, I do not trust you to be unsupervised around my possessions." Snape raised his eyebrows and sneered a little.
"I — yes sir." Harry felt blood rush into his face and hated Snape for bringing up the incident where Harry saw his father's misdoings.
"Very well. I shall see you in a bit." The door clanged shut.
Twenty minutes passed. Harry wondered what was taking Snape so long. Maybe Snape had already confirmed it was fake and didn't bother inviting Harry back in. Harry was about to leave when the door opened; Snape beckoned Harry back into his office and confirmed to him that the vision was indeed fake.
"I could tell because only the scene in your view was clear; when I turned my back from the sight, I could only see darkness. The Dark Lord did not think to provide a 360-degree view of your vision. It was quite foolish on his part, but he is not immune to mistakes after all."
"Okay," Harry said. "What do we do now, then?"
"You are going to see the Headmaster. I believe he will inform you of your next steps."
Next steps? Harry thought wildly. He wondered what he would have to do. "But he's gone, where are we going to find him?"
"I contacted Dumbledore right after I came out of the Pensieve," said Snape. "You will be using a Portkey and go to the Headquarters. Dumbledore is also currently making his way there."
"How long will I be gone?" Harry vaguely wondered if he should let Ron and Hermione know about his whereabouts.
"That depends," Snape answered, enjoying the look of frustration on Harry's face. "Fear not, Potter, if your little fan base comes looking for you I will supply sufficient answers."
"They're not my fans," Harry muttered under his breath. Snape ignored this and took out an empty vial in his drawer, tapping it while muttering "Portus." The vial glowed, and he handed it to Harry, who grasped it firmly in his hand. In a few moments, Harry suddenly felt the familiar tug and sensation of being dragged forcefully. Before he knew it, Harry's feet slammed into the floor of Grimmauld Place, right in front of the curtains of Walburga Black's portrait. He toppled over, and the vial he had been clutching fell out of his grip and clattered to the floor but surprisingly did not shatter. Harry scrambled to pick it up but groaned as the curtains flew open and Walburga began screeching.
"Blood traitors! In my house! Corrupting the pureness of the Black Fam —"
Sirius appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the curtains. "SHUT UP YOU STUPID CRONE!" he bellowed. With Harry, who clambered up to grab the other end of the curtains, he forced the curtains shut and Walburga's screams dissipated.
Sirius turned to Harry as a grin played on his lips.
"Hello, Harry," Sirius said, his encounter with his mother's portrait forgotten. "Nice seeing you again."
Harry walked up to Sirius and gave him a brief hug, and Sirius returned the gesture. "Nice seeing you too. I'm so glad the vision was fake."
"Me too," Sirius chortled. "Come down to the kitchen. They're all waiting for you."
"They?" Harry questioned. Sirius looked amused at Harry's confusion.
"The Order," Sirius answered simply. He began leading the way toward the basement door. "You'll find out why soon enough."
"What did Dumbledore say he wanted to do? Snape said something about next steps."
Sirius' face darkened, a stark contrast to the cheerful expression he had a few seconds prior. "You'll see."
Sirius began walking down the steps that led to the gloomy kitchen with Harry following.
As they descended, Harry could make out sounds of muttering; he wondered how many Order members were present. From the sounds of it, there were at least a dozen.
He walked down the last few steps and stopped next to Sirius on the stone floor. A small crowd of members of the Order of the Phoenix congregated next to the kitchen table. Among the crowd, Harry first spotted Nymphadora Tonks, whose spiky pink hair stood out garishly.
"Wotcher, Harry!"
