"Right then, Potter." said Snape through hissed teeth, "The headmaster has informed me there will be a... slight change to these lessons."

He practically slammed a couple of books on the table in front of Harry, kicking up a slight storm of dust from their age.

"What are these?" asked Harry as he looked at the title of the first one. It seemed to be about Potions but it had St. Mungo's logo on it.

"New study material." replied the Potions professor, almost smiling at the thought of assigning him more parchments for homework, "You will be instructed in how to create a new potion. It seems you are afflicted with a condition that will have grave consequences for your entire life."

Harry blinked at him. He knew that already, but something about the renewed venom in Snape's voice as he said that suggested he was talking about something else.

"You mean my connection with Voldemort?" he said frowning.

"Not. That." Snape said, barely containing an outburst. Harry swore he could see a hint of vein about to pop out in the dim ly-lit Potions classroom. He wondered what Snape would have thought in being compared to Vernon.

They had similarities, yes, but he was sure he'd find the idea of being compared to a muggle offensive. As a matter of fact, Vernon would be equally offended. What would anyone even find if they looked into Vernon's mind, anyway? Would it be all just empty space or was his uncle thinking of all the reasons why he hated him at all times just like he thought. Perhaps he could learn Legilimency along with Occlumency. Maybe that's what one of these books was about? But would Dumbledore allow it? Harry remembered his own self-doubt when he learned he could speak Parseltongue. Perhaps it would be better not to learn more dark magic. What if he still was in danger of becoming another Voldemort? Dumbledore said it was all about his choices, so what would happen if he made the choice to study a dark art? He could picture Hermione already scolding him-

"Mr. Potter." Snape's baneful voice brought him back to the present.

"Oh, sorry... professor, I was..." He stammered, kicking himself internally for allowing his mind to wander again. He was sure Snape had just read all of that in his mind.

"You are ill, Mr. Potter." said Snape, with a nasty undertone to the third word. "The headmaster has seen it fit to teach you how to brew a... particular potion."

Before Harry could ask what potion, Snape prematurely cut him off.

"You will learn how to prepare this, until you do..." he moved swiftly towards a table with an already prepared potion and coldly placed it on Harry's table, "I will provide you with it. You will drink this on the weekdays, at the exact same time in the exact same manner in the exact same amount. No room for error will be tolerated."

Harry now frowned. He was reminded suddenly of Professor Lupin and his lycanthropy. Was this for his parselmouth? Would this treatment help with something Voldemort also had as a power, and so would weaken the connection if Harry treated it? He wondered if this is what Lupin had to deal with on a monthly basis. This was different, however, he'd had to deal with this almost everyday. He made up his mind to ask Lupin for advice as soon as he could. It was such a shame he was gone, he was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher so far. What was the next thing they were going to review in Dumbledore's Army again? Ah, yes, a practical Flipendo session. Umbridge's next "class" on the other hand, was a lecture on the Ministry's guidelines for dealing with-

"Potter." Snape's enraged, but contained voice interrupted him again.

Harry almost hit himself with the book in front of him. How could he let himself get distracted again? He almost laughed at the silly idea of actually hitting himself with the book. He would be just like Dobby. Thank goodness he had released him. He had become a great ally and even friend. Maybe he could call on him to ask-

"POTTER." Snape's voice reverberated off the glass jars.

"Sorry! I was just-"

"Drink. The. Potion. Now." hissed the Potions teacher, the contained fury in his tone was unmistakable now.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He didn't know what this was for, but if Dumbledore instructed it, then it must be fine. He took a sip of the flavourless brew. Nothing unusual seemed to be happening.

Snape just stood in silence, glaring at him. Harry wanted to ask what was supposed to happen but he didn't want to risk angering him any further. Perhaps he was trying to read his mind again? Perhaps this was part of the Occlumency lesson.

He did his best to shut his mind out. Snape wasn't trying to do anything, though.

"No. Not yet. Give it a few more minutes."

Harry frowned at him in confusion, but they just stared at each other in silence for several more minutes.

Snape eventually broke the silence.

"Mr. Potter... turn to page 289."

Harry almost groaned. This was too much like a class now and he was burning with questions, but he did as he was told without issue.

The page detailed instructions for a potion treating a condition he'd never heard the name of before. He looked up at Snape again, who told him to follow the instructions immediately.

"I will not help you with this. The book is perfectly detailed and you'll have all the instructions you need there."

"Sure..." Harry replied, containing his reluctance at having to study another recipe closely. He wished Hermione would be here. He was sure he'd fall asleep or just think about something else at some point.

"I will... return in a moment." said Snape enigmatically.

"Huh?" Harry looked up in confusion but the black robes were already billowing out the door.

He sat there for a moment, further confused. Was Snape messing with him at this point or did Dumbledore actually want this?

He looked down at the page again. It seems he had no choice but to at least try to learn and study how to do the potion by himself.

This was going to be painful but he had no choice.

About 30 minutes later Snape returned with the headmaster in tow. They found the boy who lived in a corner, holding his head with one hand as tears streamed down his face. He had a mixture of confusion, surprise and even joy on his face.

"Ah, Harry. It seems professor Snape has done as I requested" said Dumbledore jovially, as if they were talking over tea. He looked around the classroom briefly with an approving look. On the table Harry had been sitting by was another potion like the one Snape had just shown him, it seemed to be the exact same colour and was even in the same container, neat and well-kept. In fact, the entire table was tidy and clean. The stains from the previous class and the shards of a destroyed cauldron were gone. Someone had gone out of their way to clean the mess and even put some stray objects back in their respective shelves.

Snape took a brief look at the potion with a tired look. He uncorked the bottle, smelled it and shook it to analyze it. He set it back on the table quickly, as if repulsed.

"Well, Severus?" Dumbledore looked at him expectantly through his spectacles.

The potions master sighed.

"This has been brewed perfectly."

"That's wonderful! Harry, I'm happy to see you'll be able to move forward with your Occlumency lessons, without incident!"

"Professor... What is this?! What's happened to me?! Why is everything so much..."

"Clearer. Calmer. Less overwhelming." Dumbledore finished for him kindly.

"Well... Yes! What's wrong with me? Is this the 'illness' that's been affecting me? What is it?" pleaded the boy, though not out of fear, but out of sheer necessity to know.

"Severus, I must remind you not to call this an 'illness', especially as Harry is just learning about it."

Snape murmured an apology or confirmation of some sort as he looked to the side ruefully.

"Harry, you are not ill." Dumbledore turned back to him, with that patient look of an experienced teacher, "You just have a condition that needs a... specific lifestyle."

As Dumbledore explained, Harry's eyes went wider and he felt just as he did the night Hagrid told him he was a wizard.

He finally understood everything. How the procrastination, the distracted mind, the messy room. How all of that was not his fault and could be 'treated' but never cured. In a matter of a few more minutes, he learned about a condition the muggles called "ADHD" but the wizarding community had called by another name for centuries.

"But, professor... Why didn't you tell me earlier? We could have treated it!" Harry almost sobbed again, thinking of how much easier his first four years in Hogwarts would have been, at least in terms of studying.

"Ah, well... usually this has to go through a specific process with certified Healers and other specialists in maladies. You would have needed to take appointments at St. Mungo's... I assure you, Harry! You are not insane or ill, like I said. St. Mungo's also has departments for these type of conditions too."

Harry nodded, understanding, but still in need of answers. Dumbledore seemed to be expecting the follow-up question so Harry went ahead and asked.

"So, then... How were you able to tell that I had it? Did you consult with specialists? Do you have contacts in St. Mungo's that helped you get a quick diagnosis?"

The headmaster shook his head. Harry could hardly wait to hear what level of wisdom or knowledge the old wizard had this time that let him know something that took multiple specialists to analyze.

"No. There was no need for any of that. I could tell because..."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed brilliantly for a second. Harry thought he could hear Snape's eyes roll from behind him.

"I have it too."