Author's note: I'm really excited to have finally finished this draft. Took me a while, but it is my longest chapter so far. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the story! ~experimentation (1/22/2024)

On the opposite side of England, in a barren village encircled by a thin, muddy river, a single light flickered to life from behind a dusty window. The house in which this light appeared was no different from all the ones next to it - a cold, polygonal shape set over a cobblestone road, on top of which a single chimney rose, and whose walls had the appearance of not being cared for in many years. The small garden set in front of the house had nothing planted in it aside from weeds and a few dry twigs, and on the rooftop the remnants of a crow's nest could be seen, as empty as the streets.

Then, a small pop. A hooded figure appeared out of thin air, his cloak betraying a set of long, lanky hair. Behind him was another cloaked figure, this one with shorter, dirty-blonde hair. The two figures wordlessly made their way down the street, walking over to the house with the lit candle. Not a sound could be heard aside from the tapping of their feet against the cobblestones, and as they approached the house, the true decay of the town was brought into clear relief. A dead cat lay on the side of the street, its neck bent at an awkward angle, and several crates full of rotting vegetables had been left abandoned near a flooded sewage drain. The figure in the back made a distasteful noise. "Muggles," she muttered.

The figure in front did not reply, but continued walking towards the house ahead of them. As they neared the entrance a quiet click was heard, and the front door swung open. Behind it was the cold orange glow of a dying candle, and the sounds of low whispers and muttering voices. As Snape stepped across the threshold of the entrance, he came into view of those already in the house. Sitting around a small table to his left was a collection of familiar faces. Dolohov, sporting a black eye from the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, two idiotic buffoons who were as stupid as they were useless, Peter Pettigrew, who jumped at the sight of him like the cowardly rat he was, and Bellatrix Lestrange, whose white face and giggly voice were as distasteful as ever. The most noticeable figure in the room, however, was a tall, cloaked figure standing in front of the nearest window. His skull-like face turned quickly to meet Snape's as the former stepped into the room.

"Ah, Severus. Please sit. We were beginning to wonder if you had lost your way."

Snape bowed, sweeping his way into the room and sitting down next to Bellatrix. Narcissa followed quickly, taking the seat opposite to the Dark Lord. It was then when Snape noticed the dead body of an old woman, shoved up against the walls. She was wearing a gardening apron, and had a blank expression on her face - the former owner of this house, cut down by the killing curse. Snape averted his eyes.

A length of silence followed, in which Voldemort continued staring out at the dreary cityscape. When he finally spoke, his voice was hardly more than a whisper, but seemed to permeate through the eardrums of everyone present.

"What is the news?"

"My lord," began Dolohov quickly, "I have received credible information from the department of magical law enforcement that Harry Potter and an acquaintance broke into the Ministry of Magic last week, again."

Voldemort did not react. Dolohov, taking this as a sign to continue, did so. "According to these sources, Harry Potter and the acquaintance infiltrated the Ministry using polyjuice potion, destroyed the trace-keeper, and then fled after a short altercation with some security guards. As of now they have not been found."

Voldemort remained unmoving. "Why did Harry Potter do this?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, my lord. I have heard nothing but rumors and speculation. Most seem to believe that he had some sort of falling out with Dumbledore, but these rumors are not credible. No one knows definitively what the boy's motives are."

Voldemort's crimson eyes fell upon Dolohov. The stare betrayed no outward sign of anger, but the Dark Lord's rage could be heard emanating through his voice. "I did not ask for excuses, Dolohov. Continue your work. Return to the Ministry. Get me this information, and if you do not have an update next week…there will be consequences."

"Y-yes, my lord!"

Voldemort's eyes panned back towards the window. It was only now when Snape noticed the giant snake, Nagini, slithering at his feet.

"I confess myself…confused," said Voldemort quietly. "I do not see any reason for the boy to run away. Are we certain that this is not a plot by Dumbledore, or the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No, my lord," replied Dolohov. "Dumbledore was at the Ministry of Magic a few days ago, helping coordinate the search effort for Harry Potter. He appears to be just as confused as everyone else as to why the boy ran. I even heard rumors from some of my colleagues that he is planning on deploying aurors and mercenary wizards to scour the countryside for him."

"It might just be a ruse, no?" interjected Amycus. "Dumbledore might be hiding the boy somewhere, and is inventing this story just to throw us off track."

Dolohov snorted at this suggestion. "The head of the department of magical law enforcement has told me otherwise. The boy is on the run - for that much I am certain."

"We must act immediately," breathed Bellatrix. "My lord, the boy is at his most vulnerable now. Send me to find him. I will kill him for you."

"No. I appreciate your bloodlust, Bellatrix, but it must be me who kills the boy." Voldemort turned to face her as he spoke. "The prophecy you failed to retrieve says as much."

Bellatrix's cheeks flushed an unpleasant shade of purple, but she did not speak.

"Severus, what news is there from the Order of the Phoenix?"

Snape bowed his head. "My lord, the Order of the Phoenix has diverted all of their resources to finding the boy. They have deployed some of their best - Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks - to search for him. Dumbledore seems to believe that Harry Potter might have reason to flee the country altogether. He has sent operatives to America in anticipation of this."

"And have those operatives made any progress?"

"Yes, my lord. Alastor Moody has reported that Harry Potter is likely somewhere in Northeastern England right now, near Sunderland or Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The prevailing belief of those at the Order of the Phoenix is that he will be disapparating to a different country in the coming days to throw off anyone who might be looking for him."

Voldemort did not respond directly to this, but instead turned to Peter Pettigrew, who shrank at the sight of his crimson eyes. "Wormtail, go to the Nott's residence. Gather the old group - Crabbe, Goyle, Gibbon, and Jugson. Have them meet me there in an hour."

Wormtail's whiskery face nodded frantically. He scampered out of his seat and disapparated with a loud crack. Voldemort then turned to those remaining around the table.

"Harry Potter is a boy who, I admit, has thwarted me in the past - not due to any skill on his part, but through a combination of luck and the incompetence of those I was foolish enough to place my trust in. But running away…I would have never foreseen him doing something so stupid. This is perhaps our best chance at finally ending the Boy who Lived. Without Dumbledore's protection, Harry Potter is vulnerable. He will be far easier to capture."

"Dolohov mentioned an acquaintance," said Alecto. "Who is this?"

"I dunno," replied Dolohov, "I heard someone say that it was a classmate of Harry Potter - a girl, if I recall correctly-"

"The acquaintance in question is indeed a classmate of the boy," interrupted Snape. "Her name is Hermione Granger - one of Potter's friends who broke into the Department of Mysteries."

Bellatrix snorted. "The mudblood? He took her out of all people?"

"It would appear so," replied Snape cooly.

Alecto snickered. "Harry's takin' his girlfriend along for the ride, eh?"

A bout of suppressed laughter made its way around the table, in which only Snape and Voldemort remained reactionless. The latter finally spoke, and the rest immediately went quiet.

"Does the boy have any such relationship with this Granger girl?"

Snape shook his head. "I do not believe so, my lord. The two have merely been friends for a long time, and as a result have grown close to each other. I believe that the Granger girl is following Harry Potter not out of romantic interest, but out of loyalty towards a friend. Granted, I could be incorrect in this regard…the two have grown quite close in previous years."

"She is a distraction," said Dolohov. "We don't need to worry about some stupid mudblood girl, romantic interest or not. Kill her, and capture Harry Potter. That should be our objective."

"We should not ignore a potential opportunity," said Voldemort quietly. "The mudblood might prove useful in capturing Harry Potter. The boy was willing to break into the Ministry of Magic to save his godfather, whom he had known for barely two years. What would he do to save a friend of five years?"

"The two are supposedly traveling together," said Snape. "To find one would be to find the other."

"Then my instructions have changed," replied Voldemort. "Dolohov, Snape - you two will continue in your roles and pass information back to me directly. Alecto, Amycus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix - you four will join the rest of those searching for Harry Potter. Report back any findings, and if you do locate him, contact me directly with your dark marks. The boy is for me to kill, but if you see a chance in which the two are separated, capture the mudblood. Is that understood?"

A round of nodding was seen around the table. Bellatrix and Snape were the only ones who looked at Voldemort directly when doing so; the rest stared at the floor.

"You have your orders. Leave me."

A loud whooshing noise filled the room as the death eaters present took flight in clouds of black smoke, or else disapparated. When the darkness cleared, Voldemort remained as the only one left in the building, stroking the top of Nagini's head with a single, skeletal finger.

Harry watched as a green stick bug slowly crawled its way over the branch above his head. It was a clumsy creature, moving with a slow, jittery walk. Every few seconds its hind legs would pause or stumble, and the entire insect would have to shift its weight to prevent itself from falling off the branch. The insect's body was similarly crude - covered with lesions, ridges, and hard edges, which gave it the texture of wood and the shape of a twig. Harry could hardly describe it as an elegant creature, and yet, there was something entrancing about the way it all came together. Its clumsy walk, rough skin, and spindly legs all worked in unison to form the image of a twig, mimicking perfectly how it might shake in the wind, and rendering itself indecipherable from all the dozens of other twigs on the tree he sat under.

Around Harry was the vast expanse of the Canadian wilderness. Craggy mountains topped with snow-white peaks adorned the horizon, while a massive plain of tall grass and ferns made up his immediate surroundings. Hermione had chosen to pitch their tent near a tree that had sprouted at the top of a small hill, which offered a generous view of the encompassing landscape, as well as a defensive advantage in case of attack. Harry felt that it was only fair to have a small moment in which to enjoy the view, and now found himself trying to draw it out for as long as possible.

It had been a week since he and Hermione apparated to Canada. In truth, when Harry first thought about running away, he saw himself jumping from small town to small town, perhaps staying in hostels or run-down inns, and studying from stolen library books. Now, after seven days, he saw himself falling into a metronomic schedule. He and Hermione would wake up before sunrise, eat breakfast, pack their tent under the invisibility cloak, and apparate perhaps twenty or thirty miles forward, using only visual guidance to assist their apparition. Harry would then set up the tent, while Hermione would place protective enchantments over the surrounding area. The rest of the day would be spent training.

At Hogwarts, Hermione had become infamous for meticulously partitioning each day into study hours, practice hours, rest periods, and sleep. Harry found that this habit did not die while in the Canadian wilderness. Hermione insisted on following a rigorous training schedule that included practice for all kinds of advanced spells and other forms of magic that might assist them in combat, such as apparition or combat transfiguration. While calling it "defense against the dark arts" in the beginning, Harry had quickly become accustomed to referring to these types of magic as "combat magic," which is what their textbooks called them.

They began by practicing more advanced combat spells. While spells such as stupefy, petrificus totalus, and reducto offered a rudimentary defense against weaker magical opponents, both Harry and Hermione understood the need to master more powerful - and more dangerous - spells. Stupefy, for example, could be too easily blocked by simple shield charms, and reducto was a spell meant only to destroy small to medium-sized obstacles, and could also be shielded easily.

Towards this end, their textbooks became extremely useful. Guided by books such as The Auror's Handbook (whose first page included a warning to the reader about the potential of losing limbs), Codex Principatus (which was written in Latin, but was deciphered by a translation rune from Hermione), and A Lexicon of War (whose 17,892 pages consisted of rows upon rows of spell incantations, wand movements, and effects), the two of them began the arduous process of learning spells without a teacher.

While memorizing the different incantations and wand movements was difficult, the main challenge in learning more advanced magic was the fact that it materialized largely as compound spells. Hermione explained the theory concisely - while stupefy, reducto, and expelliarmus could be cast by combining an incantation with a wand movement, compound spells demanded the combination of various simpler spells. While accustomed to the act of casting simple spells (which were labeled as atomic spells by their textbooks), Harry found that compound spells were significantly more difficult to pull off, requiring a greater level of focus and finer wand movements.

His first breakthrough came late in the afternoon during their first day in Canada, when he managed to successfully cast a firelance spell (ignis hastia), a compound spell that combined reducto with incendio. The curse launched a five-foot spear of fire out of the end of his wand, which flew through the air and slammed against a nearby tree - the lance exploded on contact, cracking the trunk and causing its branches to burst into flames.

It took an additional hour for him to be able to consistently cast the spell, and yet another hour for him to teach Hermione how to do it properly. This process turned out to be quite treacherous; casting the firelance spell incorrectly could result in outcomes ranging from something as harmless as a sputter of orange sparks, to setting the ground beneath one's feet on fire (Hermione, fortunately, had the reaction time to quickly put out the fire when this happened to Harry). Despite these dangers, the two continued practicing, and by nightfall Hermione was able to cast it with reasonable consistency.

The following days saw more progress. Harry mastered the firelance spell to the point at which he could shatter a tree in half with it. He also learned how to cast the Krantian Bolt (kranto) - a compound spell from the Codex Principatus that combined the electrifying hex eleczio with incendio - which would fire tendrils of red electricity out of the end of his wand, burning and electrocuting anything it came into contact with. Hermione found distinct enjoyment in using her signature spell, avis, to launch tiny paper birds at Harry, who would then use the Krantian Bolt to vaporize them. It also had various utilitarian purposes, such as that of clearing away dry leaves, or charring vegetables without the need for pots and pans.

Another breakthrough was seen on their third day when Hermione managed to successfully conjure a glass shield charm (protego vitreus). While the standard shield charm, protego, conjured a magical shield in front of the user, this was only capable of blocking a select quantity of weaker spells. The glass shield charm had two major benefits - it was larger, thereby making it easier to hide behind, and it was also physical, being made out of enchanted glass. This meant that it was capable of blocking curses such as the killing curse, which would normally pass right through a standard shield charm, or (as tested by Harry) the Bolt of Krantos, which deflected cleanly off the shield and struck the ground instead. Because of its obvious practicality, Hermione insisted on spending the rest of the day practicing the glass shield charm; by the following morning, both of them were able to cast it without delay.

Of course, there remained a plethora of more advanced shield charms they needed to learn. Harry read from the Codex Principatus that the silver shield he saw Voldemort conjure up during his duel with Dumbledore was actually a stronger variant of the glass shield charm. Unfortunately, the spellform for this was far too complicated for him to pull off just yet, requiring a combination of six protective spells, most of which Harry had no knowledge of. For now he chose to focus on what was in reach, and intended to build up to the silver shield charm with time.

They practiced more than just spellcasting; disapparition became a daily exercise for both Harry and Hermione. In the morning, they would alternate turns apparating forwards, and after setting up camp, would spend anywhere between half an hour to an hour practicing short-range apparition - disappearing and reappearing a few meters away, and then repeating this at a rapid pace. Harry was under no delusions as to how important this skill was; he remembered, at the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort, how the two had disapparated so rapidly to gain small advantages over the other.

The skill did require persistent effort; on the first day he splinched himself more times than he could count, and ended up depleting a third of their supply of Essence of Dittany. To fix this, Hermione invented an exercise that involved apparating and disapparating around a target. She would lay an object on the ground - oftentimes a rock, or a piece of colored paper. Harry would apparate to a location near it, hit it with a spell, and disapparate again to a location slightly farther away from the target, all within two seconds. This would then be repeated as many times as possible. As a result of such training, by his fifth day in Canada, Harry was able to consistently disapparate to distances of up to fifty feet. The only problem he continued to have with apparition was the physical side-effects of doing it so often; his legs and hips would begin to ache after five minutes of repeated apparition, and after ten, those would turn into cramps.

Wordless spellcasting was the last and easiest skill for Harry to learn. In truth, it was more of a matter of repetition than it was of talent. When Harry finally managed to cast a wordless stunning spell on his fourth day in Canada, replicating it turned out to be easy. Soon enough he was casting all of his spells - from basic summoning charms to glass shield charms - wordlessly. According to Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, wordless spellcasting could only be utilized with a "clear, focused, and unencumbered mind." To Harry, this simply meant repeating the incantation for the spell in his head without mentally stuttering - a task which was difficult, to be sure, but not nearly as difficult as everyone else seemed to think. Hermione, for one, could only cast very basic spells like stupefy wordlessly - for spells such as the firelance, wordless spellcasting was about as consistent as flipping a coin.

Harry surprised himself more than anyone else with the amount of progress he made. He remembered back to his fourth year, when entire weeks were spent trying to master the summoning charm, or his third year, when months were spent learning how to conjure a patronus. Now, without any schoolwork to distract him, and with all of his focus on learning how to use combat magic, Harry found himself throwing explosive spears, shooting lightning out of his wand, conjuring advanced shield charms, and doing all of this without uttering a single incantation. It made him wonder - what if, instead of going to Hogwarts, he had instead been trained in such a rigorous manner from the first moment he learned he was a wizard? If he could learn how to crack a tree in half after a week of focused self-study, what would he be capable of doing after five years under the guidance of someone like Professor McGonagall, or Lupin?

Harry's eyes drifted back to the tree above him. The stick bug he was staring at mere minutes ago had vanished into the criss-cross of twigs and branches that covered its upper layers, and so there was nothing to distract him from what he was about to do. He slowly inhaled. Calm down, he said to himself, Hermione isn't Snape. She won't hurt you.

Earlier that morning, Hermione approached him about starting legilimency training, and he agreed. It was the one form of magic they needed to practice that he felt apprehension towards, and for good reason. Having his mind probed through for hours on end was an ordeal he didn't look forward to repeating, even if it was with Hermione instead of Snape.

"Harry, you ready?"

Harry raised his head from the ground to see Hermione standing at the entrance of their tent. A small black book was held in her hands. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, getting to his feet quickly. "So…we're going to be starting on legilimency?"

"Yes." Hermione snapped the book shut and placed it in her back pocket. "I've been reading up on the theory behind it, and I think I know how to pull it off without…um…seriously harming you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's reassuring."

"Don't worry, it's a low-risk process," said Hermione hastily. "I think we're going to have to begin by infiltrating each other's minds. According to Magicks of the Psyche, passive legilimency can only be attained through repeated acts of stable legilimency."

Harry thought about it for a few seconds. "So…in order to use passive legilimency, we have to-"

"We have to repeatedly infiltrate each other's minds, yes."

A plethora of questions flashed through Harry's mind, but in the end only the most basic one made its way through his mouth. "Why?"

"Well, the theory is quite complex," said Hermione in that clippy voice she always used when explaining something academic. "The basic idea is that thoughts and emotions don't only exist inside the individual - for witches and wizards, they also exist outside of them, forming what is called the psyche-field. Any spell that affects emotion - cheering charms, for example - alters the psyche-field surrounding the individual to induce an artificial emotional state. The same goes for love potions and even patronuses."

Harry heard about half of what Hermione said. "So the psyche-field is like an invisible thing that floats above our heads, and contains all of our thoughts and emotions?"

"You can think of it that way, yes," said Hermione.

"So what does that have to do with legilimency?"

"Well, what stable legilimency does from a theoretical point of view is it directly accesses the psyche-field of the practitioner's target," explained Hermione. "What is interesting is that all psyche-fields are ultimately connected with each other."

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

"So, when I refer to a psyche-field, I am referring to one object that is shared between all individuals with an affinity for magic. So your thoughts and my thoughts are actually connected in this larger network that we're calling the psyche-field."

"All thoughts are connected…" Harry's first impression was that this statement carried more philosophical value than it did practical value, but didn't question it. "Okay. And what does this have to do with legilimency?"

"Well, what stable legilimency does is it forces both the practitioner and the target into a state where they can view a small part of the psyche-field. If I were to infiltrate your mind right now using stable legilimency, for example, I would be forcing both of us into viewing the localized part of the psyche-field that corresponds with your mind."

"Okay…" Harry tilted his head as he spoke. "But that's stable legilimency, not passive legilimency."

"Passive legilimency is attained by 'getting used' to accessing the psyche-field. We basically have to infiltrate each other's minds often enough to acclimate our minds to it, to the point at which we can see the global psyche-field even without conscious effort. When that happens, we will have access to passive legilimency. The psyche-field will be 'constantly visible' to us, so to speak."

Harry slowly nodded. "So we just…continually infiltrate each other's minds until something clicks, and from that point onwards we have passive legilimency?"

"Exactly."

"That sounds…" Harry struggled to find the right words, "...very suspect."

"I don't like it any more than you do," said Hermione, "but if we're going to learn passive legilimency - and we will have to learn it, if you want to be able to fight Voldemort - then this is how we have to do it."

Harry nodded. "Alright, if you say so," he said. "So…how should we begin?"

"Just stand here, in front of me," Hermione pointed at the ground in front of her. "The nice thing about legilimency is that it doesn't cause any noise, so we won't have to worry about accidentally revealing our location like that one time you blew up a tree-"

"That was an accident," muttered Harry. A slight pause ensued, in which he surveyed the area around himself. "Although now that you mention it…the protective enchantments are up, right?"

"I double checked a few minutes ago, yes."

"Okay." Harry stood in front of Hermione and steeled himself for the attack. He knew what to expect, having already had his mind infiltrated by Snape more times than he could count. "Alright, I'm ready. Hit me with whatever you have."

Hermione nodded. She drew her wand and pointed it right at Harry, who suddenly felt very exposed. He didn't like the sensation of having a wand pointed at him while his was stowed away in a pocket. The two of them locked eyes, and before Harry knew it Hermione had said, "legilimens!"

Harry braced himself, but nothing happened. A long pause ensued, in which Hermione stood with her wand pointed sharply at him. After two seconds she lowered it and cursed.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Must've done something wrong with the spell…we can try again."

"Right…"

Harry straightened himself back up, fixing his eyes on Hermione's. Hermione stared back, raised her wand, and this time, in a firmer voice, said, "legilimens."

Harry's vision tunneled immediately. He was standing in front of the Black Lake, with hundreds of dementors flying overhead at him…Sirius Black's face went blank, and his dead body toppled backwards through the veil…Cedric's empty eyes were staring up at a dark sky as his scar burned-"

And then it was over. Harry collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. He had forgotten how much he hated legilimency. Hermione didn't appear much better; she didn't collapse, but had knelt down, seemingly also out of breath. "That…that was weird," she said. "I've never done that before."

Harry didn't respond, instead placing all his focus on forcing himself back onto his feet.

Hermione watched him carefully, and when she spoke, she did so cautiously. "Did I just…see into your head?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. He wanted to speak more, but was afraid he might vomit if he tried.

"So that…that first one was our third year, before you conjured your first patronus?"

"Yeah. I've seen that one a few times with Snape."

"And the rest-" Hermione hesitated, before saying in a quiet voice, "I'm so sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," said Harry harshly. Hermione noticed that his voice had grown uncharacteristically firm. While eager to practice legilimency in the beginning, seeing some of Harry's darker memories seemed to change her attitude towards the whole thing.

"Are you sure you want to continue with this, Harry?"

"Yes - yes I am." It sounded as if Harry was gritting his teeth while speaking. "I need to learn passive legilimency. Hit me again."

Hermione watched Harry, before saying in a timid voice, "We should alternate. You can try infiltrating my head this time."

Harry glanced up, raising an eyebrow. During his lessons with Snape he learned to be on the receiving end of legilimency; it had hardly crossed his mind that he might one day be the one infiltrating someone else's mind. "I- I don't know how to do stable legilimency."

"It's not that hard. Point your wand straight at me, clear your mind, look at my eyes, and say, legilimens."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"I guess I can try…" Harry drew his wand. "Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded. "Hit me."

Harry closed his eyes. He knew from his occlumency lessons that he was bad at clearing his head, but tried regardless. A moment later, he raised his wand, pointed it at Hermione, and said, "legilimens."

Occlumency must have demanded a much clearer mind, because the spell immediately kicked into effect. Harry's vision zoomed in towards Hermione's eyes until he could see nothing but black - a swirl of color and sound before finally, images came into view. A tiny girl with ginger hair sat in front of a dinner table while her parents sang happy birthday…a doctor walked into a plain white room with a somber expression on her face…a pair of yellow eyes were staring at her from a mirror she held in her hands…she was sitting in front of the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room, writing an essay, and then dropped her quill…a letter slipped through the mail slot of a door-

"Enough."

Saying the words seemed to help him escape Hermione's mind. The images disintegrated, the colors vanished, and Harry felt his vision zooming out until his surroundings came back into view. The shift in scenery was abrupt enough to make him stagger backwards a little, but he was otherwise able to remain upright. Hermione, on the other hand, had collapsed onto the ground, one of her hands clutching her forehead as if she was suffering from a bad headache.

"Sorry, that lasted longer than I intended," said Harry, before adding, "Are you okay?"

"I…I think so." Hermione got to her feet shakily. Harry noticed that she was sweating. "That felt really weird. Did you see everything?"

"I think so. Was that your Birthday?"

"My last one before coming to Hogwarts, yes." said Hermione.

"I see…" Harry didn't want to pry, and so he didn't ask about the other images. "Let's try again. You can hit me this time."

"Alright." Hermione drew her wand. "Remember - passive legilimency requires the mind to become acclimated to the psyche-field. When we're in each other's memories, don't try to fight against it. The longer we maintain the memories, the faster our minds will grow used to it."

Harry nodded curtly. "Got it," he said. In truth, the prospect of having his memories plucked through at a leisurely pace made him extremely uncomfortable, but he chose to ignore these inhibitions.

Hermione pointed her wand at him again. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready."

Harry saw Hermione tilt her wand upwards a little. Before he could brace himself, she said, "legilimens."

A reflection dropped a little red stone into his pocket…a black dog stared up at him as he flew across a quidditch stadium…the sound of a woman screaming, before a flash of green light…a handsome, half-transparent man stood over a black diary…a tall, cloaked figure with a mask-like face, crimson eyes, and skeletal fingers-

"NO!"

Harry was kneeling on the ground, his palms sweaty and his breathing coming in ragged pants. Hermione had terminated the spell deliberately, and was crouching by his side. When she spoke, Harry could tell that she had been shaken by the images in his head. "I think we should stop for now. You…you don't react well to legilimency."

"No. I have to do this." Harry scrambled back up. "I can take it. Come on."

Hermione watched him worriedly. "Are you absolutely sure? You look as if you're about to go into cardiac arrest."

"I'm not going to die," growled Harry. For some reason, Hermione worrying about his health made him feel weak. "I'll be fine. We have to practice this sooner or later anyways."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but seemed to decide that mastering legilimency came before what was comfortable to Harry. She stood up and turned to face him. "Just…tell me if you want to stop. We have time to practice, so there's no need to rush."

"I know."

Hermione nodded. "It's your turn then. Hit me."

Harry drew his wand. He pointed it straight at Hermione, and without thinking, said, "legilimens."

For the next hour they would alternate in this way, infiltrating the other's mind for as long as possible before breaking off and switching places. Hermione's memories were, in general, far tamer than Harry's, consisting mainly of benign flashbacks of family, or else her experiences at Hogwarts, most of which Harry was already aware of. Harry's most common memory, on the other hand, was the sound of his mother screaming as she died. Hermione never questioned the images she saw, but even so, most of her excursions into Harry's mind would result in either a disturbed, concerned, or downright frightened look on her face.

Reliving his worst memories was already bad enough, but sharing them with Hermione turned out to be far less tolerable than anticipated. While Snape would sneer and comment on every tiny detail he found in Harry's head, Hermione's policy of never asking questions about anything she saw proved equally irritating. She would watch Cedric die over and over again, and would pretend to not have seen it, an act that made the pauses between their mind-infiltrations extremely awkward.

By the end of their practice session Harry felt as if no progress had been made towards passive legilimency. He had instead gained a raging headache, felt slightly dizzy, and was hungry enough to wolf down five chocolate frogs and half a box of cereal. Shortly afterwards, he and Hermione agreed to call it a day and rest.

"It'll take time," said Hermione, as she wrapped herself up in a sleeping bag. "According to Magicks of the Psyche, passive legilimency takes anywhere between one to six months of concentrated effort to master. We'll get there eventually."

"Six months…" Harry stared up at the ceiling of the tent as he spoke, his eyes slightly dazed. The sound of his mother screaming still rang in his ears.

Hermione glanced over from her sleeping bag. She seemed to guess what he was thinking about. "I know it's painful, Harry, and I'm sorry you have to go through this. I always thought I knew you, but after seeing the things you've seen…I think you really are the bravest person I know."

Harry didn't respond to this. A light rain began tapping against the tent, and thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. With his mind still swimming in past memories, and his surroundings pummeled by storm, Harry Potter for the first time felt a desire to speak openly. He wanted to tell Hermione about his parents, about Sirius, about the visions that haunted his dreams. Tonight, he would whisper only to the dark and cold, with not a soul to hear.