Chapter 6—The Siren Song

"Oh, Harry."

Harry managed to smile back as he answered. You have no idea, Hermione. "I didn't want to tell you I was still interested in Potions. I was—well, I was embarrassed, after the way I've acted towards Snape."

"He might—he might still take you into the class?" But then Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think he would. Oh, Harry."

"I know he won't," said Harry. "But even if I can't be an Auror, I might still need to know Potions for fighting Voldemort." He waited until the flash of pride in Hermione's eyes was positively glowing, and then reached out and laid one hand on hers. "But I didn't want to bother you, and buying a Potions book of my own—someone would have found out, and told Snape. Then I'd have to face his scorn as well as these awful detentions." He'd been able to blame the dark circles from studying and constant Occlumency practice on the detentions, which was almost enough to make him thank Snape for giving them to him. "So is it all right if I just borrow your book for now, Hermione, and you won't tell anyone about this?"

"Of course," Hermione said sturdily. "You're right, the last thing you need is to have a new interest ridiculed."

Or for Snape to become interested in the potion I'm brewing. Harry endured Hermione's hug, watched her leave, and then turned back to the instructions he'd marked, and covered with one hand the moment he became aware he had company.

As much as he wished he could just lift his wand and cast the Killing Curse at himself when he had Voldemort trapped in his mind, Harry couldn't be sure it would work. He and Voldemort were connected in strange ways, and while he depended on those ways to be able to trap Voldemort from a distance, instead of going to him, it might also mean that magic channeled through a brother wand wouldn't be enough to kill Harry's body. What would happen if his enemy seized control of his wand? And, besides, it was impossible to really practice the Killing Curse beforehand, and he'd hate to arrive at the culmination of his plans and then find out he couldn't fulfill them.

No, what Harry needed was a potion, a poison slow enough that it would leave him time to call Voldemort after he took it, but active enough that it would begin destroying his vital organs before Voldemort could use Reversal on him to break out of the trap. And after careful searching through Hermione's Potions book and several other books in the library, there was only one that fit his criteria.

If Snape found out what he was doing, Harry knew he would guess the truth in a moment. Well, probably not the truth, as he had a great faith in Harry's stupidity, but he would know the potion from a glance at the ingredients. Harry couldn't chance that.

He carefully memorized the list of what he'd need—he was not going to carry a piece of parchment with him, not when someone might find and take it—and then nodded. He was certain he could buy all of these in Hogsmeade, where he'd go tomorrow to meet Scrimgeour.

Meanwhile, he had something else planned for the detention with Snape tonight.

Severus sighed, but permitted himself no sign of exasperation other than that. Draco didn't actually deserve it. The boy had tried hard. It was not his fault that memories of his mother were the best distraction technique Severus could have flung at him while they dueled.

"Try again," Severus said quietly, when Draco had finished expelling the contents of his stomach in a corner.

Draco glared at him through tear-filled eyes, though he blinked hard, and the tears did not actually fall. Severus raised a brow. That was the first sign of toughness he'd seen in the boy in a while, and he had to commend it. He would have liked best, of course, a student whose determination and will kept him from weeping at all, but the signs of its development would make the sessions with Draco tolerable.

"How could you?" Draco whinged.

Most of Severus's sympathy vanished at once. "The Dark Lord will use Legilimency on you," he said sharply. "During your final test to become part of the Death Eaters, if no time else. What do you think he will inflict on you? What weak spots will he press? Convince him you are weak, and he will kill you. And, of course, if a sudden attack of Legilimency comes your way from Dumbledore or anyone else on the old fool's side who may possess the skill—" there was no one like that, as far as Severus knew, but Dumbledore and himself, but he wasn't about to let Draco know that "—then they will find those memories, if they are floating at the front of your mind. And they may suspect you know where the Dark Lord is."

Draco lowered his head and looked sulky. "I did learn Occlumency from Aunt Bella," he muttered. "I should be able to prevent the attacks when you fling them at me. I don't know why I can't."

Severus kept his opinion that Bellatrix was a horrible teacher of Occlumency to himself. It was true that she could manage the art, in a half-scattered way, but she had twisted and broken it into shards, adapting it to the protection and defense of her own insane mind. A sane person trying to learn from her would have no luck, and even a madman would have been hard-pressed to take a system so individual and abstract general principles from it. Draco had learned only pieces from her, and Severus was glad of it and sorry for it at the same time.

"You must concentrate," he said. "And, of course, spells coming at one rather diminish one's concentration."

Draco fidgeted from foot to foot for a moment without answering. Then he asked abruptly, "When do you think I'll be ready to take the field?"

In two years, Severus wished he could answer. The boy simply had no aptitude for anything but the most basic parts of a duelist's work. He had the eagerness to show off that sometimes could substitute for skill, and if he faced a weaker opponent, he would grow confident and acquit himself well. But against someone superior, as Severus undoubtedly was, he lost his temper far too easily when he didn't score an immediate victory, and then began attacking impatiently, firing off curses that Severus could effortlessly block or dodge.

But he had to pretend to train Draco to an acceptable level of competence soon, and he had to nudge him towards the Order of the Phoenix as much as possible.

"In a few months," he said, and if Draco did not look satisfied with that answer, he at least looked less sulky. "Now. Raise your wand. Concentrate on defense, not offense, when I attack you."

Just as Draco fell into position, Severus felt an odd tugging and pulling at his mind. His attention wanted to go elsewhere, it seemed. He blinked watering eyes, and wondered if someone stood outside his wards. He sometimes felt like this when that happened, but it had never been enough to distract him from a duel before.

"Professor?" Draco asked.

"A moment," Severus whispered, and took a step towards the door of his office. But even that wasn't enough. The sensation went on tugging at his thoughts, urging him on—but the motion of the body wasn't the right kind of motion, Severus realized almost at once. He should close his eyes and send out a questing thought in the direction of the pull, almost as if he were trying Legilimency without a pair of eyes to look into.

He did so.

The pull did not cease, but it modified. Where before it had been a nagging, maddening itch, now it filled him with a soft laxity and a general sense of well-being. Severus stood still, quietly breathing, more and more of his mind flowing out of him in the direction of the pull, the room and Draco seeming very far away.

Harry would have smiled if he hadn't needed all his concentration for what he was doing. It had worked.

The book had said that the Siren Song was a means of calling the attention of an enemy Legilimens, without his realizing the Occlumens was doing so. Unlike most of the art, it could be practiced without eye contact, though the author cautioned the Song's main purpose was to lure the Legilimens close enough that eye contact could be established. Practiced rightly, it lulled its victim into a dream-like state and didn't let him realize what was happening until the Singer was already inside his shields.

Harry didn't quite dare to practice on Dumbledore. But he wanted some assurance that he could do this before he began to call Voldemort, and for several reasons, Snape was the perfect test subject.

Harry hummed under his breath; the book had recommended a focus of some kind to keep the Song going, either a tune or a rhythmic physical motion like rubbing a stone with the fingers. As he hummed, he thought of Snape, and tried to weave his memories of the man into the melody, until the rise of the music mimicked the snap of his cloak, and the dips were the way he strode.

Like would seek like, the book said. The Siren Song, adapted to its target, would reach out and latch onto his mind. And then he would come nearer and nearer, not even realizing what he did.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing aloud. He didn't stand far from Snape's office, that was true, just against a dungeon wall, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. But that didn't matter. He was still doing this, capturing the man's attention without eye contact. He could feel Snape's mind floating before him, not tamed but soothed, shut away from the world.

He was tempted to lure Snape in even further and practice Beholding on him, but he was already tired, his hold on the Song slipping, and he would need to arrange matters more carefully if he wanted Beholding to succeed the first time. So he dropped the tune, carefully, chord by chord, and let Snape's attention snap back to himself.

Severus opened his eyes to find himself on the floor, Draco bending over him, calling his name in a whisper. Severus sat up so fast his head nearly collided with the boy's, and then groaned. He had a pounding headache, cutting across his brow like a crown of thorns.

Someone adapted a Siren Song to me.

The thought made his gut tighten with anxiety. Besides Draco, Dumbledore, and himself, there was not another Occlumens in the castle. That left some plot of the Dark Lord's. Merlin knew he had the power to reach out from a distance and grasp someone's mind if he knew them well, and his link to Snape through the Dark Mark gave him a unique advantage.

What was his purpose in holding me still and then letting me go?

Perhaps to learn things that he knows he cannot glean from me face to face?

If that was the case, then, even if he had learned nothing or little from this evening's exercise, the Dark Lord was close to suspecting the truth about Severus and who the traitor in his ranks might be. It might be enough if he knew Severus was an Occlumens.

"Professor Snape? Sir?"

With a sharp motion of his head, Severus recalled that Draco stood in the same room with him, and that the boy knew next to nothing of his real position or the true struggle. Of course, Severus could not hide his collapse, but he could control what Draco knew about it.

"I've been affected by the potion I'm brewing, Draco, the counter to Veritaserum," he said quietly. Draco's eyes widened appreciatively, more over being trusted with the secret than anything else, Severus knew. "I need you to help me to bed and seal off the potions lab. When Potter comes, you may set him to scrubbing cauldrons." It was not the torture he'd wanted to give Potter, but the headache screaming in his ears and through his mind like some banshee wouldn't permit him to hear Potter's shrill voice without pain.

"Of course, sir." Draco's chest puffed out. "You can count on me."

Severus limped carefully across the office to the hidden door that led to his chambers, and Draco helped him into bed. Severus lay down and closed his eyes. The smooth pillow beneath his cheek, and the headache draught that Draco brought him a moment later, helped to ease his pain, though not his fear.

Either it was the Dark Lord, or there's someone else in the castle who's an Occlumens capable of practicing the Siren Song.

Or—it could be both.

Severus's eyes flared open. If the Dark Lord were possessing Potter, as he had originally thought, many things became possible. Even the charm that seemed to grant Potter protection of his mind could have been a ruse.

At the moment, he was too much in pain to do anything about it. But that would change tomorrow.

Determined to keep an even closer eye on the boy than before, Severus drifted off to sleep.

Harry didn't mind the fact that Malfoy supervised his detention, with self-important words about how Snape "had better things to do tonight." He rather enjoyed the thought that he'd caused Snape so much pain the bastard had to rest. Besides, Malfoy's insults were nothing to Snape's.

And when he'd briefly met Malfoy eye to eye, he'd recognized the remains of Occlumency shields. Not very good ones, but they would do.

It seemed he had another test subject, one easier to manipulate than Snape, and much less dangerous should he figure out what was going on.

Everything's going just fine, Sirius, Harry thought happily, as he dragged a wire brush across a cauldron's rim. I'm so near to paying you back I can taste it.