Snape found him in the parlour some time later. Since Harry didn't know what Snape and Remus could have been discussing for so long, it occurred to him to wonder if the Potions Master had just been giving him time to cool off. Irritated that might be the case, Harry ignored his teacher's entrance and just kept up his conversation with Sals.

Snape listened for a while, leaning on the mantle, before commenting, "Beautiful snake."

Deciding that ignoring the clear overture would be too juvenile, Harry forced himself to meet Snape's eyes. "Yeah. I found Sals down in the cellar."

"Interesting name."

Harry unwrapped Sals from his bent knee and set the snake on the floor, shooing it away with a slight hissing noise, then glanced up again. "Well, I thought first of Gryff, actually. You know, for the colours. Burgundy and gold. But in the end I settled for Sals."

"Short for Salazar?"

Caught off guard, Harry choked back a laugh. "Oh, as in Slytherin? No, that didn't cross my mind." Snape went to sit down, then, and Harry started feeling nervous. Hating that, he prompted, "So, more Occlumency tonight?"

"In a bit. I need to relax, first." He didn't say that Harry did too, though it was fairly obvious.

"Whiskey?"

Snape gave him a long look. "I think not. We'll talk. Have you thought about what your new pet portends?"

"Yeah. You do mean the Parseltongue, right?"

"A wizard gift," Snape nodded, looking out at him through half-closed eyes. "Most assuredly, your magic is not gone."

"Hmm, I thought so too, at first. But you know Dumbledore doesn't think my being a Parselmouth has much to do with my powers. He thinks the talent got transferred to me along with this." Harry tapped an index finger against his scar.

"I disagree," Snape informed him, stretching out his legs and propping them on a low table. Harry stared, then reminded himself that the man wanted to relax, after all. Leaning back into the couch, Harry stopped holding himself quite so tensely.

"Albus is a brilliant and powerful wizard," Snape was continuing. "Still, the headmaster's knowledge of the Darkest Arts is far from comprehensive. The talent to be a Parselmouth could not have found fulfilment in you, had you yourself not possessed the requisite power to utilize the gift."

"So Parseltongue is Darkest Arts, is that what you mean?" Harry gasped.

"Certainly, but do not be alarmed. Darkest Arts is hardly an ethical classification. It's a convenient term to describe magic of a kind that can be put to the foulest use imaginable. That same magic can be used for neutral or higher purposes. I thought you understood that. Were my spells to unstick that ghastly portrait evil?"

Harry shook his head.

"Parseltongue is thought to be evil primarily because it has been put to terrible use," Snape explained.

"Yeah, Voldemort told Nagini she could eat me after he was through with me," Harry recalled, shivering.

Snape chuckled, a response Harry found baffling until the Potions Master clarified, "You know, Harry, it gets a bit difficult to treat you as a normal sixteen-year-old when you come out with claims like that." He cleared his throat. "I am trying, however."

Harry appreciated that, but he managed not to say thanks.

"At any rate, I would expect you to be fully at ease with your facility in snake language, by now," Snape went on. "Since second year you've known, haven't you? It shouldn't still be troubling you."

"Ha, and wasn't that fun, having everyone think I was the Heir of Slytherin out to cleanse the school of Muggleborns."

"An unlikely scenario," Snape concurred, smiling slightly as he folded his hands across his waist.

"Except for a python at the zoo when I was ten," Harry volunteered, "I've heard Parseltongue only from Voldemort's pet snake, the Basilisk, and that serpent Malfoy conjured in a duel. Not exactly a catalogue of heart-warming experiences."

"Well, then chat with Sals more," Snape suggested. "You might as well get used to your talents, Harry. They are part of you, whatever the headmaster may have said."

"Lets just get on with the lesson, Professor," Harry sighed, tired of talking about it.

"In a moment. Do you actually know what your father did for a living, Harry?"

Harry snorted, thinking that Snape had heard a good deal more than he'd let on. "Did he do anything?" he retorted. "I mean, considering the Potters have more wizard gold than the rest of the world thinks decent?"

"That sounds like Lupin talking. I won't deny that James was rich, or that I didn't appreciate the way he treated me during our school years. The fact that you looked so much like him at first glance certainly influenced me... for years, Harry. But the picture you've built up since looking in that pensieve? It's not a good one."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Harry hotly disclaimed. More uncomfortable by the second, he scooted to the floor where they'd worked the night before, and prompted, "Occlumency?"

Snape stood, and reaching down, pulled him up to stand, then leaned down slightly to speak face to face. "I do have to tell you this," he vowed. "The pensieve is not objective, Harry. What you saw was a reconstruction of my perceptions of that day. No doubt they have their truth, but they also have their flaws. And what you saw was but one day out of your father's entire life."

"Sirius told me they were always picking on you!" Harry objected.

"True, but that day was exceptionally grim," Snape informed him. "James does not come out of it well, but you have apparently decided that he was entirely without worth. That..." The Potions Master cleared his throat. "That is not so."

Harry huffed. "Next you'll be saying that when all was said and done, you ended up liking him!"

"I did not like him," Snape denied. "I never liked him. By the time we were grown, there was too much... water under the bridge, if you will." A moment of indecision, and Snape was settling his hands atop the boy's shoulders. "But Harry, he wasn't fifteen forever. He became a fine man, and though we could never have been friends, in the end I did respect him. He and Lily thrice defied the Dark Lord, you know that. James was in the Order, a dedicated wizard doing all he could to protect probable victims and bring Death Eaters to justice. He did the work of an Auror, though he refused all pay. That was not just due to his family wealth; the Ministry then was not much more competent than it is now. James preferred to remain unaffiliated with official policy, which was unfortunately all too apt to bend to political whims."

Not knowing what to say to all that, really, Harry admitted, "Nobody's ever told me that much about him at once, Professor."

"When people say you are like him, they are thinking of the man he became, you know," Snape answered, "not the one you saw in my pensieve."

Harry drew in a deep breath, then released it. It shouldn't matter to him that Snape had practically admitted that in the end, he'd forgiven James. It shouldn't matter... but somehow, it did. He felt better. Not about everything, but at least about some things.

Still, he shrugged off his teacher's hands to say, "Can we get to the Occlumency, now?"

"You're still nervous," Snape observed.

"Well, I can't not be, can I?" asked Harry. "I mean, it was great and all, but having you fill my head with... stuff, was still pretty weird. Honestly, I do think some whiskey would help."

Snape stepped back a measured pace. "You must be able to achieve a cleared mind without such aids. And without me, Harry. Tonight we will go about things a little bit differently. We'll try it without physical contact."

"And then, without you even entering my mind, I bet," Harry guessed. "And then what? Is that it? I think it'd help me to know the whole plan, if you don't mind. I mean, if it won't be counterproductive or something."

"It shouldn't be," Snape commented. "Your being able to repress all thought, and to do it without external aid, is the first critical step, but it is by no means the last. You must be able to maintain your calm even in the face of attack. Beyond even that, however, is the fact that the Dark Lord is a far more skilled Legilimens than I. What you truly need is the ability to convince him not to attack you with all his strength."

He motioned for Harry to sit, then sank to the floor facing him, his robes billowing out as he knelt.

"How am I going to convince Voldemort of anything?" Harry questioned, hands lightly gripping his own knees at the sound of the question itself. "I can't see him backing off on my say-so."

Snape raised an eyebrow in unmistakable challenge, and drawled, "Oh, come now, Mr Potter, surely you see the way?" When Harry just shook his head, Snape's voice grew slightly more biting. "Only part of you is a pure and honest Gryffindor, you know."

Cunning... Slytherin cunning... "Oh, you're talking about... misdirection, aren't you?"

"Why are you afraid to call it what it is?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, not knowing what to say.

"Lying is no more evil than are the very Darkest Arts, Harry," Snape remarked in an entirely conversational tone. "It all depends upon the purpose to which the misdirection is put."

"Right," Harry answered, feeling more confident. "Voldemort is stronger than me, so I have to be smarter than him--"

"The Dark Lord is not stronger than you. He marked you his equal."

Harry stared at his teacher, feeling like all the blood in his body was rushing away from his brain to make him remarkably stupid. Snape couldn't have meant what he'd just said. He couldn't. It was ridiculous. He wasn't even Snape's equal, let alone Voldemort's!

"Look, I told you," Harry began. "Everyone thinks I've bested him, but it isn't true. I had help, every time, I told you that!"

Snape waved a hand as though none of that was of any import. "Nevertheless, the Dark Lord has no more power than you do; the prophecy speaks to that. What he does have is a far better grasp of how to channel his magic. You have virtually no such grasp."

"I have virtually no magic, Professor," Harry argued, his thoughts roiling. "I should have listened to you and Hermione, and stayed well clear of Muggle doctors! It's my own stupid fault I've lost my powers, I should have left Aunt Petunia to her fate, as you said. It's not like I ended up helping her any, is it? And now if the whole Wizarding world falls, that will be my fault, too! I'll be responsible for every last thing that dark bastard does--"

"Much as it gratifies me to be classed with Miss Granger in anything," Snape smoothly interrupted, "you should not forget that your motive was to safeguard your wards. You were trying to protect yourself until such time as you were ready to face the Dark Lord. I know this, as does Albus."

"Yeah, well fat lot of good my pure Gryffindor motives do us now," Harry bit out, chewing the inside of his cheek, he was so agitated. "I should have let the damned hat put me in Slytherin."

"Well, at least you named your new friend Sals."

The remark relieved some of the tension gripping the room, as did Snape's quirked smile. "As for what is past, Harry, you must let it be past. Even the most unfortunate decisions can turn out well, when one takes a longer view of matters."

Obscure words, but Harry somehow knew that Snape was talking of the Dark Mark branded into his arm. His gaze drifted to it, though it was covered with voluminous robes, and most likely, more than one sleeve.

"Yes," Snape merely murmured, the single syllable spoken low and slow. "You understand me."

Harry nodded.

"Good, then let us begin," Snape decided. He moved marginally closer to Harry, but avoided any contact, and held his hands up before his face, fingers spread.

"Match your hands to mine, but do not touch me," he intoned, his voice dark, but also calm. Harry felt like he was falling into it. When he did as requested, he could feel a frisson of energy pulsating through the air between their hands. It was like the time he'd played with Dudley's magnets and felt how when turned backwards, the energy between them became a tangible propulsive force.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It took longer, that time, for Harry to fall into the mental water and merge with it, but once he got there, it seemed he could sustain the state for longer, too.

When Snape finally drew back, his hands dropping exhausted to the rug, he confessed, "You were by yourself, in the end, Harry. I had left your mind some time earlier. Did you sense that?"

"No," Harry murmured, slumping. Occlumency was a lot more tiring when he didn't have Snape to prop him up, mentally or physically, he supposed.

"That means your Occlusion was quite complete. Very well done, Mr Potter."

Harry had to resist an urge to preen. When had he ever got a compliment from Snape? It meant more than it should, he thought, but he was actually too tired to try to figure all that out.

"Tomorrow," Snape directed, "spend some time thinking of an alternate image you can lose yourself in. Water is mine, you understand. I would like to believe that my own Occlumency is skilled enough that the Dark Lord never sees the image I use to withstand him, but I should not care to risk my life if he should ever sense my hand in your powers."

"Oh..." Harry hadn't thought of that. Using Occlumency against Voldemort could actually endanger Snape? If Harry did it wrong, that was? "Yes, all right, Professor. I'll do as you say."

"Remarkable words." Snape stifled a yawn behind a hand. "Ones I never thought to hear you say, let alone mean."

"I do mean them!"

"Yes, I know, Harry," Snape admitted in a sardonic drawl, before leveling his voice. "I did not mean to imply otherwise. By the way, I have asked Lupin to not bother himself with whatever you wish to call me."

Harry stared. "Er... why?"

"I told him that our Occlumency lessons require a certain level of mental closeness, and his insistence on upholding my authority as a teacher could only endanger the progress we have made."

Something about Snape's phrasing caught Harry's attention. "You told him, you said. Wasn't it true?"

"Thinking like a Slytherin," Snape approved.

"Is it true?"

"I don't know," Snape admitted, awkwardly coming out of his kneel and pushing to his feet. Ouch. Harry was sure he'd heard some bones creaking, in there. "It may be; we will see. At any rate, it is time I went."

"Are you able to floo, so soon?" Harry asked, concerned. "Maybe you should stay a while. We could talk again, keep you awake."

"Do you need to talk about anything?" Snape softly asked, sounding as though he genuinely wanted to know.

Harry thought about his dream, then shook his head. It hadn't been much, after all. Just a scene of Snape finalizing the Polyjuice Potion, and then an empty clearing in the forest. Nothing dire, not like the previous dream.

"I will return now, then," Snape announced, stepping into the cavernous fireplace that graced one whole wall of the parlour. "Remember to practice, Harry. Clear your mind several times tomorrow, and do try to lose yourself in an image other than water."

Before Harry could answer, Snape was gone.

"Yes, I will," he answered anyway. "And thank you, Professor. For everything."