Chapter 31. Occlusion

No one was surprised anymore by the news of Voldemort's bloody madness. Everyone anxiously awaited the news, fearing for their families, and regularly exchanged letters with owls, even some Slytherins. The only ones who remained unfazed were Malfoy and his entourage, like Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. These news not only didn't touch them, but rather inspired them. It seemed that the majority of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall lived by their own rules, and at the very edge of it, there were students who didn't share the common mood and looked like outcasts. Snape appeared just as out of place within their midst, but only because of his impenetrable expression on his face. It was impossible to say for sure how he regarded all this news, which gained even darker tones with each passing day.

Harry continued to train with him, and with each time, he got a little better. Snape seemed to have softened and stopped demanding the impossible from Harry, treating his failures with relative calmness. He made increasingly gentle comments to Harry until he began commenting solely through a single look at his futile attempts at mental resistance. Harry didn't get angry or offended by the professor—instead, he only got angry at himself for not being able to achieve perfection in mental defense.

"Complicated things like Occlusion are not achieved by anyone right away," Snape said once again. "Your goal is to keep me out of your mind. Focus."

"I'm trying!" Harry exclaimed. "I just can't do it."

Snape simply twirled his wand in his hands.

"Then come back tomorrow evening," he commented without any emotion. "You're free for today."

"Tomorrow evening" had arrived every day for a month, and Harry still hadn't felt any results. Only Snape occasionally claimed that Harry was holding up better than before.

"How much longer can I rest?" Harry protested.

"Not everyone can discipline their mind as quickly as you expect," Snape replied indifferently. "I would be surprised if you succeeded so quickly."

Harry could only sigh in response. He had nothing to say.

This continued every day, over and over again, until after another Legilimens from Snape, Harry sank into a thick darkness. In an instant, this sticky darkness receded, replaced by a multitude of lights. Among them, he saw a familiar face.

Voldemort sat at a table surrounded by his many allies in a well-lit, elegant living room of a wealthy mansion.

"My loyal Death Eaters, listen to me attentively! Today, we have gathered not only to celebrate our victories, but also to continue our mission. We have many enemies, but they are weak! Their society is built on tolerance and acceptance, while ours thrives on strength and purity!"

His words were interrupted by someone's footsteps. Harry strained his eyes but couldn't make out the visitor, only seeing a bright spot in the stranger's place. Voldemort paused out of perplexity and silently watched as the guest took a chair and sat at a distance from the table. Crossing one leg over the other, he turned to Voldemort as if waiting for him to continue. The Dark Lord didn't make him wait.

- I, Lord Voldemort, reject their weak ideals and embrace the truth - the truth of the superiority of our kind! The truth that the only way to ensure our survival is to embrace our heritage and shed the blood of those who stand in our way! Muggles! The mere thought of them makes my blood boil! They are filth, nothing more than dirt that needs to be cleansed from our world! And their half-blood offspring, witches and wizards tainted by their pitiful blood - they are no better! Our duty, my loyal followers, is to eradicate this disease! We must stand tall and proud, united in our commitment to our pure-blood heritage! Only then can we achieve true greatness, only then can we create a world where true wizards reign! I call upon every Death Eater to double their efforts, to fight with all their might! Together, we will destroy the wretched Muggle scum, together, we will usher in a new era of wizard dominance! To victory, my loyal followers! Death to the weak, and long live the pure-bloods!

Voldemort turned to his guest, whom Harry could not see. The guest did not react. For a brief moment, Voldemort turned away and smirked, but quickly wiped the expression from his face. The unknown guest did not notice this gesture, but half of the Death Eaters flinched, sensing the tension on their leader's face.

"Very expressive," the guest's voice sounded calmly feigned to Harry. "Do not disappoint my expectations."

The guest rose from their seat and handed a bundle to Voldemort. Voldemort brought it to his eyes and curiously turned it around.

"When do we begin?" impatience could be heard in Voldemort's voice.

"For certainty - tomorrow at midnight. And then, you will receive what you desire."

Voldemort looked skeptically at the guest, but they stood with their back turned and did not notice anything. Voldemort then nodded to the Death Eaters sitting across from him, then nodded in the direction of the guest. They all nodded in response.

"So, what guarantees are there of the result?" Voldemort slowly and deliberately squeezed out.

"My presence among you is the guarantee of all my promises," the guest calmly replied. "No wizard who has ever lived will have been more powerful than you will become."

"We shall see," Voldemort smirked in response and immediately looked into Harry's eyes.

Someone's invisible hand forcefully grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him out of the room, wrenching him away from the clutches of those serpent-like eyes.

"What did you see?" a familiar deep voice sounded nearby.

"Harry!" Dumbledore said.

Harry opened his eyes. He was sprawled on the floor in the Potions classroom, where he had recently stood. Snape stood over him, while Dumbledore crouched nearby. His right side and elbow hurt. Harry moved his right arm and confirmed that all his bones were intact and in place.

"Tell us about your vision," Dumbledore addressed him.

"I saw... him," Harry replied. "He knows that I saw him. There were Death Eaters with him and some guest."

"What did this guest look like?" Dumbledore clarified.

"I don't know... I only saw a bright spot where a person should be."

"They talked about something?" Snape asked briskly.

"The guest gave him some kind of bundle and promised that Voldemort would become more powerful than any wizard in history. It must be some kind of super weapon."

Dumbledore reached out his hand and helped Harry to his feet. At the entrance to the classroom, Harry noticed McGonagall and Fujimaru. McGonagall stood in complete confusion, while Fujimaru was feverishly pondering something.

"The guest also said something like 'do not disappoint my expectations'," Harry added.

"That sounds very bold," Dumbledore commented. "Whoever it is, they are either a lunatic or a master of their craft. So, when do they plan to use this weapon?"

"Tomorrow evening."

Dumbledore looked significantly at Snape. He only nodded in response and departed from his office like a black shadow.