Chapter 16 – Making Headway

Harry fell into an easy routine. He would spend most of his days working on his regular schoolwork, including the mountains of additional work brought on by Alchemy and its practical projects, while trying to fit in all his extracurricular activities – and his duties as prefect – around all of that. It worked well enough.

Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, and the resulting self-directed learning afterwards, was a little harder to fit in, but Harry made time for it. Occlumency seemed like a very important thing for him to learn, and he didn't want to put Dumbledore off sharing any further information. There were things Harry wanted to know – needed to know, even – and he wasn't going to let himself fall down at that particular hurdle.

Not when he'd been presented with a route around it.

It left very little time for anything else, though, including the clandestine activities he and his friends had agreed upon. That wasn't so bad, though, as they hadn't managed to meet up to learn the spells necessary, but it was another thing Harry had to keep in mind as the days went on.

Even though he had a lot going on Harry still looked forward to his alchemy lessons, as the class had moved on to preparing for the first of the three practical projects of the year – the Salve of Clear Sight. It was a matter close to Harry's own heart – well, eyes – since it would mean he could, after successfully producing the Salve, do away with his glasses altogether. The presence of Inquisitors during the practicals was less welcome, but they tended be in attendance mostly for Mr Flamel's lessons, so Harry at least got a break during lessons with Professor Dee.

Unfortunately, that meant Professor Dee was free to behave in exactly the way he normally did, which could be frustrating during practical lessons.

"So," said Professor Dee before taking a long, hard drag of his cigarette, "today we're going to work on the first step in creating the Salve of Ocular Augmentation."

Hermione put up her hand.

"Professor?" she asked.

Dee blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Yes?"

"Why do you call it the Salve of Ocular Augmentation, but Mr Flamel calls it the Salve of Clear Sight?" Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. Not exactly the most important of interruptions to the lesson.

"Two names for the same thing," Dee said, shrugging. "In the Ministry syllabus it's called the Salve of Ocular Augmentation, so that's just what I've been calling it as well."

"But they're the same thing?" pressed Hermione. "I only ask because I've been in the library doing some research and I keep seeing it called the Salve of Clear Sight or the Salve of True Sight in the books, as well as the Salve of Ocular Augmentation, and I was worried there was a material difference in the methods. You know, like how it is with the Elixir of Elation and the Draught of Euphoria. So I just wanted to check that it really was the same thing just so I didn't end up researching something different."

That's actually fair, Harry thought, revising his earlier opinion.

Dee stubbed out his cigarette and then lit another.

"Five points to Gryffindor," he said. "I wasn't sure where you were going with this question but you got somewhere good in the end. Well done. So, yes, in this case it really is just two names for the same thing. I think Mr Flamel favours the traditional nomenclature—for obvious reasons." He paused. "Any more questions? No? Then moving on…"

Dee blew out a cloud of green smoke.

"You've been doing really well—most of you, anyway—with Mr Flamel, and I'm told you've all managed to create an alchemical solvent. You'll have all made a sericon with Mr Flamel, too, so we're well on our way to creating the Salve. Well done, all of you. Not that we'll be doing that today. Today, as the first step in the Salve of Ocular Augmentation, we're going to be making the solvent. Set up your apparatus—two to a bench—and get on with it. I'll be watching you, so don't worry about that."

Dee flicked ash from his cigarette into the ashtray and blew out a cloud of green smoke.

"Get started. If you fall behind you might not have time to finish, and if you don't finish, you can't sit the OWL."

Dee leaned back against his desk and continued smoking.

Harry set up his apparatus right away at the workbench he shared with Thomas Dragonsfoot. There were others he could have chosen, but Dragonsfoot was friendly enough, and lacked some of the baggage of the others in the class. By the time Harry had finished with his own equipment he realised the little wizard was still putting his things together.

"Need any help?" Harry said. Dragonsfoot always took a little longer than the others to get his things set up as he was much, much shorter than everyone else and had to climb onto his seat to reach the top of the alchemical equipment.

Dragonsfoot shook his head.

"No, thank you. Appreciate the offer, but in the exam I have to do it all myself, so I don't want to get used to having the help," he said with a smile.

"Fair enough," Harry said. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Harry started the work of making his solvent, setting the fire to the right temperature, filling the various bits and pieces with the right materials, while he kept his eye on Dragonsfoot in case the other boy really did need some help.

He didn't. Dragonsfoot did need to stand on top of the workbench for part of the work, and even though that was technically against the guidelines for practical work in alchemy, Harry didn't mention it. If Professor Dee thought it okay – and the cigarette-smoking professor had said nothing at all – it was none of Harry's business. And, with Dragonsfoot being so small, there wasn't much else he could do anyway.

"Harry, would you pass me my sulphur, please?" Dragonsfoot asked after a little while.

"Yeah, no problem," Harry said. He handed the vial of powdered sulphur to the little wizard.

"Thanks!" he said.

Harry continued with his work. As the first step in his first ever alchemical work, he didn't want anything at all to go wrong. Not only would that mean he failed at the first hurdle and couldn't get his eyes fixed, it would also bar him from any and all progression to the higher mysteries of alchemy, and that thought was not a nice one. Fortunately, the creation of a solvent suitable for the Salve of Clear Soght was quite simple as alchemy went, so Harry wasn't that worried.

It was even better that the Inquisitors were absent, as they mostly only ever got in the way no matter what class they were sitting in on. Especially Umbridge, who appeared to seek out each and every opportunity to interrupt with a zeal hitherto unknown in any being yet to grace the Earth.

But as the creation of a solvent was reasonably simple, that did leave Harry with a lot of spare time in between bits and pieces of activity, so he decided to try to get to know Dragonsfoot a bit better.

"How'd you end up deciding to take Alchemy, anyway?" Harry asked him. "If you were home-schooled before, I mean." He paused. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to—I was just making conversation, that's all." No need to put the boy on edge, after all.

Dragonsfoot shrugged.

"It's fine. It's a fair question," he said in that surprisingly deep voice of his. "I never had the chance to actually learn alchemy at home," he said, "so I never did the theory bits. My mum couldn't have afforded private alchemy tuition—there's only one instructor and she charges obscene amounts, like really, shockingly high—so I just never bothered. I did read on my own—but it's not the same. It was really boring being home-schooled, to be honest with you. When the Ministry changed the laws and I had to come here anyway..." He shrugged again. "It just made sense to try it out."

"That makes sense," Harry said. "I've heard a few people say things like that." Of course, he'd also heard people complain that the change ruined long-standing plans or was a complete upheaval and altogether unwanted. But it seemed like not everyone was as upset by the Ministry's decisions as people like Tracey's brother or John FitzRoy.

And none of that made Harry at all pleased to have Umbridge, the Ministry faction she represented, and Voldemort's people interfering with Hogwarts.

But it was interesting to consider.

"I don't think it's fair that they shut down all the other schools, though," Dragonsfoot continued. "That's wrong. But I'm not unhappy I got to come to Hogwarts."

Harry had the question fully formed and ready to go before deciding not to ask it. There could have been any number of reasons Dragonsfoot wanted but hadn't been allowed to attend Hogwarts, and some of them might have delicate answers. Probably best not to ask the question, at least not until Harry knew him better.

"That's fair enough," Harry said. "I'm glad I got to come, too—my aunt and uncle didn't want to let me, not at first." That had been a moment of madness on his aunt's behalf, Harry knew, as she hadn't wanted to let Harry back into a dangerous world... and she would have been overruled anyway by the Ministry. But Harry understood something of what Dragonsfoot felt.

"Really?" asked Dragonsfoot. "I never would have thought that."

"Yeah," said Harry absently as he adjusted the flame. "My aunt was worried. Since she's a muggle and, well, the only wizards she ever knew died in the War." Harry's parents. The reason Harry had been placed with her in the first place.

"Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…" Dragonsfoot said. "Sorry."

Harry shrugged.

"It's just what it is. But anyway—my aunt wasn't too convinced about me coming to Hogwarts, so I get it."

"My mum worries, too," Dragonsfoot said. "I think mums—and aunts—are just like that. Mind you, my grandfather's the same as well, so I think it's just an old people thing. Worry worry worry."

That sounded about right to Harry. Most of the full grown adults he knew where busy worrying about something or other, sometimes even things that nobody needed to worry about. He opened his mouth to say as much—

"Shit," muttered Harry as he saw his auxiliary fluid boiling. "Forgot about that..."

He jumped to fix the temperature and went back to his alchemical work but did manage to keep up a decent enough conversation with Dragonsfoot after that. It wasn't quite to the level of social interaction Tracey managed with just about everyone, but Harry was pleased with it, anyway. Not everyone had to be a social butterfly, after all.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said at the end of the lesson while they were packing things away. Both of them had managed to create their solvents and so didn't have to stay later – something which Harry was very glad for indeed, as Alchemy was the last of his lessons on Monday and meant he could get back to the dungeons for some much-needed rest before scrambling to meet his other obligations.

"See you," said Dragonsfoot.

At dinner on Thursday evening Harry once again received a message from Dumbledore in the form of a self-immolating paper crane instructing him to report to Dumbledore's office later that night. Another occlumency lesson and given that Harry had been making progress with his meditation, perhaps one involving actual occlumency.

As the crane burned to ashes at the table, Blaise twitched away from Harry.

"Oi! I told you—oh. Well. Just point the bloody thing away from me next time, alright?" he said. "God, why's he got to light the thing on fire?"

Harry shrugged.

"Dunno. To be honest, I think he likes the theatricality of it all. You know." That sounded about right to Harry, anyway, since as the Headmaster, Dumbledore was perfectly entitled to simply ask any student to attend his office whenever he wanted without any kind of subterfuge being necessary.

Blaise mumbled something unintelligible.

"Well, enjoy your stupid meeting, I suppose," he said. "Even though this is the second time you've nearly burned my robes."

"The fire was nowhere near you," Harry said dismissively. "Anyway, you can just repair them easy enough."

"Not my under-robe—that's a special silk and reparo won't work on it because it's inherently magical. So just be more careful."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, alright."

Harry finished up with his dinner and used the small window of time between the end of dinner and the beginning of occlumency with Dumbledore to get some of his homework done. When it was time to leave he gathered his things and headed straight to Dumbledore's office.

He reached the gargoyle which guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office and gave it the password.

"Sugar mice," he said, and it moved aside to reveal the staircase. The door to Dumbledore's office opened as soon as Harry reached the top of the staircase.

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Would you like a cockroach cluster?"

Harry eyed the bowl on Dumbledore's desk dubiously. He'd never tried a cockroach cluster and didn't intend to, either. He didn't know anyone who enjoyed them. Was Dumbledore joking, perhaps? But there really was a bowl full of cockroach clusters on the desk.

"No, thanks, sir," Harry said. "I... er, I had a large dinner."

"Ah! More for me, then," said Dumbledore, popping one into his mouth. "Now, I trust you have been keeping up with your exercises? Before sleeping and upon waking?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir. I have—every night. And morning. I even try to do them in the day if I get the chance but I've been really busy so I don't always manage it."

"The curse of the productive and successful wizard," said Dumbledore. "No matter—what you've done should be sufficient. Must be sufficient, in fact, as you do not have many other options."

"Yes, sir." Harry supposed he could drop one of activities for it, or even pull back from one his less important subjects, but Harry reckoned Dumbledore wouldn't have been too happy with those solutions.

"Let's begin. First, I wish to see whether you are able to maintain a clear state of mind. May I use legilimency on you?"

"Er, yes, sir. I mean, you have to to check, don't you? So..."

"Consent, Harry, is important in any endeavour such as this," said Dumbledore. "If there is no trust, we are doomed to fail. We shall begin when you are ready."

Harry nodded. He took a few moments to breathe, then tried to coax his mind into that paradoxical state of mind required by occlumency – a mind actively clear of thought. When Harry thought he was more or less there, he nodded.

"Sir."

Speaking took him out of it, but only a little, and he slipped back in before Dumbledore started.

"Legilimens."

At first, Harry couldn't tell anything had happened. Of course, that was the point, and Dumbledore was a very light touch when it came to legilimency... and Harry was focused more on maintaining his clear state of mind. But after a few moments Harry felt the additional presence in his mind. It was subtle, almost no feeling at all. Like a single speck of dust on a photograph, Harry could only notice it because it was the only presence in his clean, cleared mind – and so it must have been foreign. An intrusive presence, not part of his thoughts at all...

That's the point of clearing my mind, Harry realised.

"Ah, well," said Dumbledore, jolting Harry from his thoughts. "A wonderful realisation, Harry, but perhaps poorly timed. Nevertheless, I am quite confident that you are able to enter and maintain the correct state of mind for our lessons to progress. No doubt in the coming weeks we shall visit this, and do so using different techniques, but we can begin the real work tonight. Next, I am going to try a more active legilimantic incursion. I will attempt to view a memory—something banal, innocuous, like a memory of your last Transfiguration lesson with Professor McGonagall, say. You need only do your best to maintain a clear mind—do not try to push me out. I daresay you would be able to succeed, but that isn't quite what we're aiming to achieve here."

"Er, then what are we doing?" Harry asked. "Sir. I mean, I thought the point was to not let you rummage around my head."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

"You are correct, of course," he said. "In most cases the goal of the occlumens is to prevent the legilimens from gaining access to his mind. However, he can do this in several different ways. One approach, as you have experienced already, is to push the intruder out. However this is not, strictly speaking, occlumency—it is rather closer to legilimency than occlumency. It straddles the imaginary line diving the two arts. This can be quite effective but has two major disadvantages over a subtler approach. Can you guess what these are?"

Harry thought about it. The most obvious answer seemed to be that it would show off to any attacking legilimens that their attack had failed. He said as much.

"Is it because they'll notice they failed and might try harder next time?"

"Indeed, that is one reason many occlumens take a subtler approach. But this is not the whole reason: a sufficiently talented occlumens would be able to resist even a very aggressive incursion. So, can you think of another reason?"

Harry fought the urge to shrug. It had to be at least a little bit obvious or Dumbledore wouldn't have bothered to ask, so Harry thought on it a bit more. After a few moments Harry thought he'd figured it out.

"Is it... well, if Voldemort used legilimency on me, and I pushed him out, he'd know that I'm an occlumens. But if I just kept my mind clear he'd never know that I even knew he was looking about in there?" That sounded right to Harry. "So that way, you can keep your secrets—even the one about being an occlumens." He paused. "Is that how you knew about Draco being an occlumens?"

"In a manner of speaking," Dumbledore said. "Young Mr Malfoy is skilled enough in the Art that he could resist a minor incursion, though not so skilled that I would face a challenge in gaining access to his mind should I wish to press the issue." Dumbledore hesitated. "Not that I would have done so without sufficient cause—I am not fond of using legilimency, and strive never to do so without good reason. No, what really alerted me to his newfound talent was simply how empty his head was whenever I looked." It was Dumbledore's turn to pause. "Emptier than the mind of a teenaged boy ordinarily is, I should say."

Harry nodded and thought about it.

"So, clearing my mind is only the first step? There's more to learn?"

That was disappointing but not wholly unexpected. For occlumency to be such a rare art, and so difficult to learn, it would have to be a bit more complicated than simply being a wizard who didn't think very much. Otherwise Vince and Greg would be grand masters of it.

"Quite so," Dumbledore said. "It is the beginner's defence. A more experienced practitioner would appear to not be using occlumency at all. That was Mr Malfoy's downfall: he could keep secret that which he guarded, but not that he was guarding a secret. There are of course many reasons one might wish to keep knowledge that one is an occlumens from others—not least of which that the Ministry takes a rather suspicious view on those studied in the Mind Arts."

"Really?"

"It is not illegal to be a practitioner," Dumbledore said, "but it carries with it a certain ... stigma, should one ever need to give testimony at a trial or other such things. If it had been known that I am an occlumens—let alone that I am quite the accomplished legilimens—at the trial during the summer it would have been much more difficult for us to have achieved the result we managed."

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry said. The trial had gone poorly enough as it was, and with the things being written about him in the papers, Harry didn't want to see just how bad it could get if Rita knew he'd dabbled in the Mind Arts. "Alright. I think I'm ready to try, then."

Harry took a few more breaths and got himself back into his cleared state of mind. Although Dumbledore had told him some useful things, none of it mattered at that moment. What mattered was that Harry kept his thoughts clear, his mind empty. Free from anything even halfway resembling a memory for Dumbledore to latch onto.

No memories, and no errant thoughts either. Easier said than done, but Harry thought that he could—

"Legilimens!" said Dumbledore without warning.

But Harry felt nothing. Not at first. Then, eventually, it was as if someone was gently leafing through the pages of a book, the lightest of pressures inside his mind, searching around the empty space Harry had created for something that didn't fit. Something that stood out.

Harry ignored it. That was the point of the exercise – ignoring Dumbledore, pretending as if he didn't exist. Pretending as if nothing existed in his mind, at that. His mind was, as Snape often claimed of his students, not even full of air.

Harry kept at his breathing.

His mind was an empty room. A clear blue sky. Like the waters of a calm sea. Any and every bullshit metaphor and analogy Harry had ever heard to describe such a thing.

None of it mattered.

Harry maintained the occlusion as best he could, kept his mind balanced on the edge of thought and unthought, that sweet paradoxical place where the magic of occlumency was born.

And then Dumbledore dug deeper.

It was as if he simply swept aside Harry's hard-won state of mind like it was nothing to reveal the chaotic mess that lurked beneath. Any hint of occlumency was gone, the magic dispelled. Instead, Harry's mind filled with thoughts, memories: the first time Dumbledore had used legilimency on him, the first time Harry had successfully meditated, the first...

Harry tried to rein himself in, tried to get back the cleared state of mind. Focused on his breathing – in, hold, out slowly. Repeat.

Nothing worked.

And then a memory replayed over in his mind. Dumbledore had found what he'd been looking for – a memory of Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. It was the lesson McGonagall had attempted to teach her students how to vanish complex structures and groups of objects by visualising them as a collective entity. Harry had mastered it early on, as he had been doing essentially the same thing in reverse by conjuring bees during his duelling bouts, and McGonagall had given him a hint during the exams the previous year besides.

So instead of listening to the lesson, he'd played about with his buttons instead, transfiguring them into beetles and back again. Not exactly mucking about, but not what he'd been assigned to do either.

"An admirable defence, Harry," Dumbledore said after the memory played out. "You seem to have grasped the basic concepts well. Of course, application of concept is a rather different beast, especially in occlumency. But we will get there. When you are able to maintain the occlusion despite my incursions we will progress to the next step—occluding your thoughts so that it appears you are not occluding at all. Are you ready to try again? This time I shall hunt for a different memory—a lesson with Professor Flitwick, perhaps."

Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir. I'm ready."

And so it went. Harry attempted to occlude, to keep his mind clear, while Dumbledore rooted around in search of memories. Each time, Dumbledore found exactly what he'd been looking for, Harry's pitiful occlusion broken and swept away almost like it had never existed. Over and over again, filling the better part of three hours, until Harry couldn't fill his mind with thoughts even if he'd wanted to.

"We shall stop here, I think," Dumbledore said eventually. "You have done well."

Harry rubbed at his aching head.

"I don't feel like it," he muttered. Harry sighed. "Sir, when you push past my occlusion... er, how do you do it? I mean... I was keeping a clear mind, right? And I was managing it. But then you just—just..."

"In part it is because you were too focused on what I was doing, and not focused enough on occlusion, that the state slipped momentarily. Once that happens it is trivial for the legilimens to go further. It is a foot in the door, so to speak," Dumbledore said. "And in part it is simply the nature of legilimency to see past occlusion. Of course, had I wished to simply force my way through your occlusion I could have done so at any point. You are a novice and I have—without being immodest—much more skill at legilimency than you do at occlumency."

Well, that all made perfect sense, even if Harry didn't like it.

"Sir, do you think—" Harry started to ask, but then paused. He thought it would be helpful if he learned something more about legilimency, how it worked, what it was in more detail – but didn't want to come across as if he wanted access to other people's minds. He wasn't a snoop, not like that.

"That you should learn legilimency?" Dumbledore finished for him. "No, not at this juncture. We have more important things to discuss, after all—occlumency is necessary for those, remember. You are not learning for the sake of it, but because we have a specific, concrete goal. Remember this, Harry." Dumbledore paused. "And quite aside from that, learning even the rudiments of legilimency is counterproductive to our goal, as it is in some senses the opposite of what you need to be doing. No, your goals are best served by a dogged persistence in the art of occlumency alone, for now."

"I didn't mean I should learn legilimency," Harry said. "More that I wondered if it would be helpful to know about how it works so I can learn occlumency better. Like, if I understood what it was that a legilimens was doing I could know better what I should be doing with occlumency." Harry shrugged. "But if you don't think that's necessary then it doesn't matter."

"For now, focus on occlumency," Dumbledore reiterated. "You are making excellent progress, but we are not quite where we need you to be. Continue your practise every morning when you wake and every night before you sleep—and before you sleep especially. Now, the hour is late, and I am quite sure you are tired—mentally if not physically after our practise. I wouldn't want to keep you any longer, unless there is anything you wish you discuss?"

Harry thought about it, then shook his head. He'd had no unpleasant run-ins with the Inquisition, and he'd decided against asking Dumbledore to intervene with the Lockhart situation. Umbridge hadn't even been that obnoxious during Duelling Club.

"Then I will see you soon enough," Dumbledore said. "See that you hurry back to the dungeons—I should not want you to run afoul of the Inquisition, Prefect's badge or no."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. He stood and left Dumbledore alone in his strange office full of its odd instruments and portraits of long dead personages and went right back to the dungeons. He didn't even linger in the Common Room – it was late enough that none of his friends were there, anyway, so there didn't seem much point.

"He kept you late," remarked Blaise as Harry returned to the dormitory and sat himself down on his bed.. Everyone was still awake and chatting quietly, all except for Capability Plumm whose curtains were closed off.

"Private lessons with Lockhart again?" asked John FitzRoy, his tone a clear statement on how he felt about that little titbit.

Harry sighed. He didn't ever have private lessons with Lockhart, but the answer of having long, drawn out meetings with Dumbledore was hardly any better for Harry's reputation. Either way it looked like special treatment.

"I don't have private lessons with Lockhart," Harry decided to say. "He just makes me do my homework there instead of—ugh. But whatever. I had a meeting with Dumbledore, actually. It was, er…"

Harry paused. He knew what Dumbledore had suggested during one of their meetings – that Harry was seeing Dumbledore for 'pastoral care' at his aunt's urging after the trial – but that was embarrassing. Still, a bit of embarrassment was better than rumours of private tuition from Dumbledore…

"My aunt wanted me to have pastoral sessions with Dumbledore," Harry explained. "After the assault. And the trial. You know. So… that's what I'm doing on Thursdays. Not that it's anyone's business."

Charlie at least had the decency to look a bit awkward at the statement, but FitzRoy didn't seem to care at all. He waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, that." FitzRoy sniffed. "Bad bit of business, that."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure I want to go over it all again before bed," Harry said. Hopefully FitzRoy would take the statement at face value. It was a reasonable excuse. "So… anyway, I'm going to go bed," Harry said. "You lot can keep talking, but I'm tired. So… goodnight," he said.

Harry closed the curtains around his bed and got changed, then settled in to do his final occlumency exercises before sinking into a deep sleep.