CHAPTER 38

We've only been on this ascending staircase for a few seconds before my stomach roils painfully and I lash out and grab Snape's arm. "Professor," I say, holding my midsection, preparing to lose my meal. "Professor, I can't—"

His hand comes to a rest atop mine, and he motions for me to take a seat on the stairs that carry us upward. "Charlotte, what's wrong?" I lower myself onto the steps and take slow breaths. "Charlotte—"

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Snape sits down on the step below mine. "No, you're not," he says calmly. "You're simply nervous, and you're letting those nerves ruin your composure."

"What happens if I can't accomplish this? If I fail today, will you give up on teaching me? Voldemort will learn about everything, and I—"

"If you fail here today, you might not be able to join the Order, but I won't stop teaching you. Your life has become complicated, and if the Dark Lord learned that I was helping you—it wouldn't end well for either of us. Of course I won't let that happen. You'll master Occlumency before you have to face him again."

I close my eyes for a moment, then take a shaky breath. "All right. All right. I can do this." I brace my hand against the wall and push myself to my feet. This is fine, I can do this. I can do this. "All right," I say again. I nod at him while he stands back up. "All right."

"You're ready?"

"Probably," I say. "I mean, I guess." A smile almost comes to his face, but he turns his face forward before I can get the full effect of it. He glances back over his shoulder a moment or so later, likely to ensure I didn't start retreating down the stairs while I have the chance. "The first few times you used Legilimency on me, Professor, it hurt. Does—is—" I stop, unsure how to ask what I'm trying to ask.

Snape seems to know what I'm trying to ask. "The Dark Lord, if he senses you are using Occlumency, will try harder, more viciously, to penetrate your mind. It can be painful. Professor Dumbledore may or may not try that intensely. He will do all that he can to read your thoughts, but I doubt if he will purposefully harm you. Is that something you fear?"

"Yes," I admit. "I wish it wasn't true, but yes."

"Professor Dumbledore will use Legilimency against you harder than I ever have, but you needn't fear his injuring you."

I nod at him but can't speak.

The steps come to a stop in front of the door to Dumbledore's office. "You'll be fine." Then he raises his hand and knocks on the wood.

A few short moments later, we are given permission to enter. The nerves start to settle in again, sending my stomach flying downward and making it roil uncomfortably. "Ah, Professor Snape, Miss Rodgers," he greets us.

"Headmaster," Snape replies.

I swallow thickly and give him a small nod—all I can muster right now. Dumbledore smiles kindly at me. "Please, come have a seat." My breath catches at the sound of his voice, and I can't move. I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. "I presume Professor Snape has given you an idea of what you will be doing?"

Snape hasn't explained anything to me about how this test will go happen, and I look to him with wide, scared eyes, at which point he says, "You'll be doing the same things we've been doing in our lessons—keeping Professor Dumbledore from penetrating your mind both while you're awake and while you're asleep, showing only the thoughts you want, manipulating your thoughts, and fighting off the effects of Veritaserum."

I exhale and nod to him, then look back at Dumbledore. Something about him makes him seem more intimidating than Voldemort, despite how kind he has always been. The headmaster gestures for me to finally take the seat in front of his desk, so I do, my legs almost fighting me, almost unwilling to carry me to the chair out of fear of what might happen, how I might fail. But I force myself forward to the chair. "There's no need to be nervous," Dumbledore says. "I believe you'll do just fine. There is no greater instructor of Occlumency than Professor Snape." I glance at the professor in question and catch the amused look in his eye as he watches me. "Now, we will begin with the different versions of Occlumency and move onto Veritaserum. Did you bring the potion, Severus?"

Snape nods and produces a vial of what I assume is Veritaserum, then places it on Dumbledore's desk. "Miss Rodgers, I simply want you to keep me out of your mind," the headmaster says, aiming his wand at me. "Are you ready?" Only after I nod does he cast the spell. "Legilimens."

Dumbledore's Legilimency is different than Snape's, harder and more invasive almost. Like there's a hand grabbing onto my brain and squeezing so tightly that I can't even think straight. My skull presses down, threatening to crack open and spill my brains onto the floor. Someone repeatedly punches me in the temple. I groan in a quiet pain, trying to stop what's happening but can't—can't do anything to stop this, can't do anything to protect myself. I am completely and utterly powerless. I drop my head into my hands, pressing my palms against my eyes, letting my fingers drift into my hair and tug slightly. "Please," I whisper, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. Blood pounds in my ears, making my next words sound like nothing more than muffled mumbles to me. "Please stop." Snape promised me that Dumbledore wouldn't purposefully harm me, but he lied to me—he lied to me. Snape never tried this hard in our lessons. Finally, I can't hold it back any longer, and I open my mouth to start screaming, pleading for him to stop, begging for him not to hurt me anymore.

He does not let up, still trying intensely to penetrate my mind. Something warm and wet spills from my nose. "It hurts!" I cry out, though I can no longer distinguish what anyone is saying due to the extraordinarily loud pounding in my head.

With one last powerful attempt to break into my mind, Dumbledore sends me and my chair toppling backward, and I sprawl onto the stone floor. I lie still for a moment, letting the pain seep away from me as the tendrils of his spell release my brain and slink away from me. I pull my legs to my chest and try to breathe evenly.

Snape says something to the headmaster in a low voice—perhaps a normal voice that I simply cannot hear properly right now. Two hands grasp under my arms and help me to my feet. "You did quite well," Snape says quietly to me. I hold tightly to his arms, still trying to coax out the residual pain. Very gently, he removes my hands from his arms and sets my chair upright. I press my hand to my bleeding nose as I sit back down.

"Forgive me, Miss Rodgers," Dumbledore says as Snape hands me a cool, damp rag. "Lord Voldemort will not be gentle if he applies Legilimency against you."

"It's fine," I say, my voice airy. "I need to know I can do this."

I cast Snape an accusing look, hoping he'll give me an answer later as to why he didn't warn me that Dumbledore was going to be that vicious. "Here, Miss Rodgers." Dumbledore hands me a vial of something—not the Veritaserum that Snape brought. Drinking it immediately relieves all pain in my head, and I offer him a genuinely thankful smile. "Are you ready to move on?" Dumbledore asks. I nod. "This time, no matter how hard I attempt to find another memory, I want you to force me to see what you intend for me to see."

This is perfect, actually. He's given me a foolproof way to show him that Draco is trying to kill him without Snape discovering that I know or that I've shared the Dark Lord's secret plans. And without Snape discovering that I've figured out what's going to happen.

I'm fully prepared when Dumbledore casts the spell.

I am walking from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts when Bellatrix Apparates behind me. "Listen to me! You're not safe in the castle!" she exclaims. I let Dumbledore see Bellatrix take me to the graveyard where I was supposed to be buried. The pressure on the back of my head tells me he's trying to access another memory, but I will not let him. This is the one part of Occlumency I can handle: I can make him see only what I want him to see.

Another pressure comes to the front of my head, and I can almost feel Dumbledore's plan—he's trying to follow a path of memories, memories that include Bellatrix in some way. But I'm in control right now of what he sees, and so he will see what I want him to see and nothing more.

Bellatrix puts her hands on my shoulders. "Something is going to happen this year. Someone is going to die."

With a steadying breath, I propel him farther into my mind. I'm with Draco in the Astronomy Tower. We sit across from each other in chairs, my cousin visibly upset. "Draco," I say. "Who is going to die this year? Is it Harry?"

"No . . . I can't tell you," Draco replies. Dumbledore fights to see anything else, and for a moment I slip and show him a brief image of Draco crying in the common room before I force him back, a pounding headache growing behind my eyes.

"You can. Voldemort will never know," I assure him.

Draco remains quiet for a few moments before saying, "Dumbledore."

Then I push the headmaster out of my mind and am shocked to find that he doesn't look the least bit troubled by the news I've shown him. "You've taught her well, Severus," Dumbledore comments, peering at me over his half-moon spectacles. "You saw the grave of Aurelia Lestrange?"

"Yes, sir." The pounding in my head begins to die down now that he's no longer trying to navigate through my mind.

"Bellatrix has grown attached to you." He glances at Snape but doesn't comment further. Though I wish he would not have said this with such an interested tone, I can breathe easily because he now knows that Draco is trying to kill him. "This time, I want you to alter a memory. Are you prepared?" I nod.

I'm in the Great Hall, sitting in Dumbledore's chair at the staff table, looking over the empty House tables and enjoying the feeling of almost being the king of this castle.

"Enjoying yourself?" Dumbledore asks me.

It's almost just as embarrassing as to relive that moment.

I quickly stand to vacate his seat and let him take it back as I sit in McGonagall's chair, the one beside him. "I've been meaning to speak with you, Miss Rodgers."

A small amount of resistance attacks me, pricking my mind, as Dumbledore tries to work his way through the rest of my memories, but I'm able to block him out from everything else. It's not the most important thing he's trying to do right now though, which I assume why it's so easy to prevent.

"I hear you want to join the Order of the Phoenix."

I smile. "Yes, sir."

"I'm afraid that is not possible for you because of your position."

"But—"

"In your position, you are too close to Lord Voldemort and his followers. If anything went wrong, your life would be in grave danger. We cannot allow our students to place themselves in that sort of situation."

With a small shove, I make him leave my thoughts. He nods at me, smiling. "Well done."

I clear my throat and look away from him. "Thanks."

Dumbledore waits a moment, as if giving me a chance to gather myself once more. "This time, you need to show me a memory this a complete lie. Legilimens."

I'm walking through the streets of Spinner's End with Snape. "How long are you planning to invade my home?" he asks, his voice annoyed.

"That all depends, Professor. How long will it take you to teach me Occlumency and nonverbal dueling?"

He eyes me closely. "With your track record, I fear that might be a while."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

There's a pop! behind us, and the two of us turn to see a familiar man coming out of the alley, his wand pointed at me. "YOU KILLED MY FATHER!" he shrieks. "YOU KILLED HIM!"

Snape and I both draw our wands in defense. "Calm down, Avery," Snape says, slightly positioning his body between me and the attacker. "You obviously know who she is, which means you know that under the orders of the Dark Lord himself, she cannot be harmed."

"She killed my father, and she's going to pay for it!"

"Do you want to anger the Dark Lord? Think clearly."

"Professor—"

"Hush," he says to me. "Now go, Avery, and we'll pretend this never happened."

"Like hell! Cru—"

I expel his wand at the same moment Snape Stuns him, and the force of our combined spells throws him onto his back, unconscious. We take a step toward him and look down at his motionless form. Snape and I turn and look at one another, almost amused that he was taken down so easily.

I push the headmaster out of my thoughts, and he immediately turns to Snape. "Were the two of you attacked by a man named Avery over the holidays?"

Snape shakes his head, his eyes landing on me for a moment. "We were not."

Dumbledore looks back at me, a pleased gleam in his piercing blue eyes. "Very good. We're going to put you into a bewitched sleep. I presume Professor Snape has done this before?" I nod. "Are you ready?" I nod again, knowing that's not entirely true, and he casts the spells.

This hurts just as badly as it did when he tried to penetrate my mind when I was awake, but I do not let him in, and by the time he stops, my nose is bleeding again. Whatever potion Dumbledore gave me moments ago, however, doesn't allow the pain to take over like it did earlier. After I wipe the blood again, he says, "Well done, Miss Rodgers. This time, show me only what you want to show me."

I'm sitting with Bellatrix and Narcissa around my trunk in the Malfoy Manor cellar, our cards laid out before us and a glass of wine in my hand. Bellatrix and I are teasing Narcissa about cheating.

I'm forcibly drawn to Bellatrix's room. She comes toward me and takes my face in her hands, her eyes searching for a sign of injury.

I push Dumbledore back to the cellar and allow him to see me questioning Bellatrix about her investigation and her answer about the Muggle investigator.

Dumbledore releases the spell and looks to Snape. "There is room for improvement. I believe Bellatrix might be even more attached than we realized." Snape's eyebrows rise in what appears to be a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but he remains silent as Dumbledore looks back at me. "Show me a convincing false memory."

I'm sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. No one else is in the room or at the table. I'm eating a piece of toast with strawberry jam. A bottle of butterbeer appears in front of me, and I pick it up to drink. Something's wrong with it though. The edges of my memory are slightly blurry, the strawberry jam on my toast abruptly changing from red to black every few seconds. The bottle of butterbeer isn't even on the table all the way when I set it back down.

Snape appears across from me. "I'm struggling, Professor," I say. Something about him looks blurry, like I'm seeing him through distorted glass. "I need help."

"Rodgers," he says kindly, "Just focus on what you're doing."

I close my eyes for a second, and when I've opened them, everything is normal, like it should be. Dumbledore appears beside me, and I look at him with sorrowful eyes. "I . . . I need to practice this more, I think."

Suddenly, I'm back in Dumbledore's office. The headmaster and Snape exchange a quick look, something in Snape's eye gripping my heart. I've failed him.

"That could have been better," Dumbledore says. "Nothing of what you've just shown me could fool Lord Voldemort." I bite my tongue and swallow down the lump in my throat.

"We will continue working on it, Headmaster," Snape says. "She has not yet mastered Occlumency, but the progress she's made is—"

He cuts Snape off simply by putting up his hand. Then he pours a cup of tea that I swear was not there before he bewitched me to sleep and puts a few drops of Veritaserum in it. Snape picks it up from Dumbledore's desk and turns his back to the headmaster so that only I can see his face. He gives me a small, encouraging nod, as if I haven't already failed this test because of my horrible display to Dumbledore just now. "Drink this," he says.

"Professor Snape knows enough of your past to know whether you are telling the truth. Do your best to lie, Miss Rodgers." I duck my head to him. "What is your name?"

"Helena Collins," I say.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"When were you born?"

"The twenty-first of November." I bite my tongue and focus harder.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

"With the Dark Lord. He is the only worthy one."

"Where were you over the school holidays?"

"In Malfoy Manor, with the Dark Lord. As he commanded."

"Who is Severus Snape?"

"A professor at Hogwarts?"

"Who is Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"A ruthless, blood-thirsty Death Eater."

"How do you know her?"

"I met her at Malfoy Manor over the holidays. I was introduced to her by her sister, Narcissa."

"How did that meeting go?"

"She didn't like me very much." I bite my tongue again because that's the truth but try not to show it on my face too much.

"How old were you when you discovered you are a witch?"

"I've always known. My parents told me as I was growing up. They're both magical and were preparing me to come here, to Hogwarts."

This continues for another half hour, but I manage to answer almost every question with ease. With every successful lie, I gain a bit of confidence, and it becomes easier to lie through the potion.

Once Dumbledore declares my questioning finished, Snape takes out another vial and lets me drink from it, assuring me that it is the antidote to the Veritaserum. I'm only slightly frustrated he's never given me this after our lessons, but since I typically go to sleep right after the questioning, I manage to let it go quickly.

"You've taught her very well," Dumbledore says.

Then he and Snape step off to the side and talk in low voices, and try as I might to hear them, I cannot. Snape frowns, then glances at me, but he's not angry, so I try to keep my hopes up. A moment later, he walks out of the office and leaves me alone with Dumbledore.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"I wanted to speak with you about something you showed me."

"About what?"

"I believe you know already."

"About Bellatrix and Draco?"

"You needn't worry about that, and you mustn't speak of it with anyone. That includes Professor McGonagall."

"I told her that someone's going to die but didn't tell her it was you. She said everything would be fine."

"There are defensive measures around the castle and its grounds that will keep everyone inside safe."

"But what about Katie Bell, sir? You can't deny that Voldemort has ways of getting things inside Hogwarts."

"Miss Bell will be fine. We're taking more precautions. Nothing like that will happen again."

"Everyone inside the castle will be safe?"

"Undoubtedly."

"But the only target is you, sir, and you've been leaving the castle quite frequently."

He smiles good-naturedly at me. "And I can take care of myself, Miss Rodgers. I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary."

"But it is, Professor! You're one of the only people who can help me escape from Voldemort! If you're gone, what chance do I have? It's not just your life at stake."

Dumbledore smiles sadly. "Though I doubt anything will happen to me, if it does, Professor Snape will be here to help you escape Lord Voldemort."

"But he's not the same!" I'm hard-pressed not to scream, but just barely manage to keep myself contained. "You're—you're Albus fucking Dumbledore—"

"Rodgers—"

"I'm sorry, but you're the greatest wizard in the world, the only one Voldemort ever feared! Severus Snape is someone he trusts! He can only prepare me, but you, on the other hand, you can stop him!"

"I am not the one chosen to destroy Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore says calmly. "And Professor Snape is more capable of helping you than you give him credit for."

"But Professor Snape is too close to Voldemort to be able to do anything against him without Voldemort knowing! And as for you not being the one chosen to destroy Voldemort, what does that have to do with anything? How can you say that someone has to be chosen to destroy him?"

"Because only the one chosen to destroy the Dark Lord has the power to do so. Harry Potter is the one who will destroy Lord Voldemort."

"Harry Potter is nothing but a pawn in this game! Much like I am Voldemort's pawn, Harry is yours! You're the king in this little chess match between you and Voldemort, and if we lose you, the game is over!"

"There is no one person that is the king for either side of this match," he says, an intrigued look in his eye. "There is the right and the wrong. The light and the dark are the kings, the ones that each side is trying to checkmate. And as for Harry Potter being a pawn, you are right. He's been a pawn for most of his life, but now he is almost all the way across the board. Do you know what happens when a pawn makes it to the other side?"

I swallow, growing angry with him, before quietly saying, "They can become something else."

He waves his wand, and a silver chess board appears on the table. But this is no ordinary chess board, for it has twice the number of spaces and pieces as a normal board. Many of the pieces have been moved multiple times already, far from their starting points, though I can't begin to imagine the movements used to get them to their new areas. "I have been protecting Harry in his journey"—he points to a pawn that is almost to the other end of the board—"and he is almost to the point where he can destroy Lord Voldemort. He just needs time. And if Lord Voldemort finds a way to kill me"—he motions to a queen that is stationed near the pawn, one surrounded by the broken pieces of others, probably pieces that had tried to destroy the Harry pawn—"there is another ready to take my place"—he traces backwards diagonally until his finger lands on another queen.

"Two queens?" I ask skeptically.

"One of which was once a pawn as well," Dumbledore says.

"So you believe Voldemort will kill you?"

"I will not die on the orders of Lord Voldemort," he says confidently.

"Then why do you have someone set up to take your place?"

He smiles. "A good chess player is always six moves ahead of his opponent, but a great chess player is always ten moves ahead. One must be prepared for anything." I watch each of the pieces. As we speak, a few more of them begin moving. I can feel Dumbledore watching me as a rook slowly makes its way up the board, drawing closer to Pawn Harry and Queen Dumbledore. "I tell you all of this to remind you of a fact of chess that is often forgotten: in a game between the two kings, even a pawn can make a difference, and if there is but a pawn left, there is a chance of winning."

"But a pawn can only make a difference if it's on the right side of the match," I whisper.

Dumbledore points to one of the black pawns. It floats into the air and to the other side of the board, where it turns white and lands in one of the typical starting positions of pawns. He meets my eyes. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."