The following week, Hedwig arrived at breakfast with a package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Harry untied it from Hedwig's legs and hefted it in his hands; it felt like the books Remus had promised him, shrunken for owl post. There was a letter on top, and its envelope said, "Open this first!"

Harry slit the envelope with the other end of his fork. "Who's it from?" asked Ron.

Hermione glanced over his shoulder at the name below the fold. "Professor Lupin," she said, "probably stuff for... Remedial Potions."

The letter read:

Dear Harry,

I'm very glad to hear that you are doing well, and that you're progressing in Remedial Potions. Professor Snape really is a competent colleague and teacher when he chooses to be, though he is, of course, somewhat unapproachable the rest of the time. I do hope that the lessons have helped with this.

On that note, here are some books from Grimmauld Place that you may find helpful; I have used some of them myself. I chose only a few -- particularly ones that you would not necessarily find in the Hogwarts library (outside of the Restricted Section -- I would know), or ones that I thought would be relevant to your situation. I would recommend that you read, in particular, Manipulating the Dreamscape. You are welcome, of course, to ask Hermione for help.

I'm also very glad to hear that your dreams aren't troubling you much, and that my old House Quidditch team is doing well. I had every confidence that you would make a wonderful captain; your father was the same.

Take care of yourself,

Remus

Harry swallowed hard. Remus had no idea how badly Quidditch was going -- how dysfunctional their team was, how things had started falling apart after Katie got sent to St. Mungo's (or, if he really thought about it, even before then), how Ron just couldn't perform under pressure. And the match was in just a few days. I bet my dad could have handled all this, Harry found himself thinking. I bet he would have been able to put the team back together.

It usually did not bother him when people spoke of his father -- it happened often enough that he was used to it -- but Harry found that he was no longer quite as accustomed. People, or rather, the people who mattered to him, had not mentioned his dad to him in a long time -- not since Sirius; people who knew about Padfoot tried either to console him, or else avoided mention of the incident all together. Snape had, of course, brought up his father on numerous occasions, and his godfather a few times, but most of it was pure insult, and Harry wasn't sure if Snape counted as someone who mattered to him anyways.

"Well, what's it say?" asked Ron through a mouthful of eggs, shaking Harry from his thoughts.

"Ronald, that is disgusting," Hermione shot back. Ron gulped it down and grinned at her; she rolled her eyes, muttering "boys," under her breath.

"That they're books," said Harry, getting his bearings and pretending not to have heard the last bit, "you know, like Hermione said. And 'good luck with Quidditch,' and all that." He tucked the letter and the unopened package of books into his schoolbag. "Probably best not to open this here. I'll un-shrink them upstairs."

Ron paled a bit at the mention of Quidditch. "Please tell me he's not coming to watch," he murmured faintly.

"I doubt it. He's doing something on the Continent for the Order, last I checked. Probably left right after he posted these with Hedwig."

"Oh, thank Merlin."

"Ron, don't worry about it," said Hermione, patting his arm encouragingly, "you'll do fine. It's just Quidditch."

"Just Quidditch!" Ron moaned, "I'm going to embarrass myself in front of the whole school, and she says it's 'just Quidditch!'"

"Well, if only you would get so worked up over your NEWTs. There's such a thing as priorities, Ron."

Ron shook his head. "You just don't understand, 'Mione. It's Quidditch."

Hermione turned back to her pancakes in a huff, and ignored Ron for the rest of breakfast.

Harry made his way down to Snape's office that evening after a completely miserable Quidditch practice. He was tired, sore, and out of sorts -- he hadn't even had time to stop by Gryffindor Tower afterwards -- but somehow he didn't think Snape would find those to be acceptable excuses for skiving off an Occlumency session.

The door was already ajar, and he could see Snape at his desk, marking papers in red ink. He knocked, once; the man raised his head and said, "Come in." He sounded tired, Harry thought, or perhaps just bored.

Harry put his bag down against Snape's desk, and sat down in the chair opposite. "Do you want to finish grading those first, sir?" he asked, "I have homework I could do."

Snape glanced up at him, a strange expression playing upon his lips. "No, that is unnecessary." He gathered up the papers, casting a quick-drying spell on them, and put them aside. He stood up; with a flick of the wrist, his wand slid into his hand from within his sleeve. "On your feet, Mr. Potter."

Harry pushed the chair back and stood, his feet slightly apart in the dueling stance that came almost second nature to him, now. Snape wordlessly levitated the chair to the other end of the room, and then tucked his wand away. "You have been practicing, I trust?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Worked on my outer shields. The hedge walls, like you said."

"Good. Let us see how well your hedges hold up, then. Legilimens."

Harry could feel it as Snape impacted the outer layer of his hedge walls. He was not attempting to be especially subtle, Harry knew; if Snape really didn't want him to notice, he probably could manage it. As it was, Harry could see his presence right outside his mind, searching for a gap in the foliage. He appeared to have found one, and burrowed inwards. Harry wrapped one of his vines around him, and tossed him outwards, and away.

He blinked, and the room shifted into focus. Snape's arms were crossed over his chest, but he had a vaguely satisfied expression on his face. "You do understand, I hope, that most opponents, such as the Dark Lord, will be more aggressive, or else much more subtle."

"Yeah. I think I'm getting the hang of it, though. You can hit me with something harder," said Harry. He wondered, briefly, if it was a foolish thing to say, but then Snape nodded.

"Very well," said Snape, with a hint of a smirk. "Remember that you asked for it." And with that, he plunged.

Harry felt it as a needle this time, a much more concentrated, forceful blow. He grabbed at it with his barbed vines, but it slipped easily past, slicing through one of the plants as Snape twisted forward. Harry threw up a branch in his path, and felt the man's mind impact the wood with a satisfying thunk. Harry stumbled backwards a few steps from the force of the blow; his physical foot caught on something, and he landed on the dungeon floor on his backside.

He disentangled his foot from the strap of his book bag -- that was what tripped him, he realized -- and saw that half the contents had spilled out. His breath caught when he saw that the package from Remus had torn open, and the shrunken books spilled out onto the flagstones.

"What," said Snape, "are those?"

Harry swallowed. Trust, he thought. "They're, uh, books. I just got them today. Remus heard that I was doing Occlumency again, and, umm, he sent me some stuff he thought might help."

Snape nodded slowly, his expression blank. "I suppose they are from the Black library?"

"Yeah."

Snape hovered them, all three of them, onto his desk. "Finite Incantatem."

The books resumed their normal sizes. Snape glanced at their spines and flipped to their title pages. "Manipulating the Dreamscape. Yes, that would be rather appropriate, in your situation. It is... often overlooked, as most Occlumens are concerned with waking Legilimency. The Ultimate Duel is more of a Legilimency text, strictly speaking, but it is one of the better beginner's books. Defending the Mind is a rather standard Occlumency text -- I believe you already have it, though, from the Hogwarts library?" He glanced up at Harry.

"I -- yeah. Got it a while ago."

"Your spellwork is, undoubtedly, much better than your Occlumency, especially given the... illicit student organization of last year." Snape eyed him critically.

"Umm. Yeah. I mean, yes sir." Harry was not quite sure where the conversation was headed, and quickly added, "I haven't done any spells on the books, though. I didn't even cancel the shrinking spells."

"Yes, I know," said Snape. "You misunderstand me, though I have not... made myself very clear on this score. I am going to teach you a spell -- it is a rather simple one, so I do not anticipate having to teach you more than once."

"Umm, okay. Is it something to do with Occlumency, sir?"

"In a fashion." Snape stacked Defending the Mind and Manipulating the Dreamscape off to one side, and said, "Presumably, you have covered time-lapse spells in Charms at this point."

"Last year. We did cover Portkeys a few weeks ago -- the scheduling thing is a time-lapse spell."

"Good. I will teach you a time-lapse shrinking spell. It is designed to hold for exactly twenty-four hours, after which the object will revert to its normal size. Of course, it may be reversed at anytime prior. It is, I might add, only intended for inanimate, non-living objects, though one may achieve mixed results with living, nonmagical plants." He drew his wand, and continued, "The incantation is syrnothimer, with the accent on the second syllable, like so." He tapped The Ultimate Duel with his wand, incanting, "Syrnothimer."

The book shrank, much like with an ordinary shrinking spell, to the size of a Chocolate Frog card. They waited a moment, and then Snape incanted, "Finite." The book resumed its former size with a pop.

"Okay. Let me try," said Harry, repeating the incantation. The book obediently shrank, its final size not quite as small as Snape's spell had produced, but Harry could quite easily fit the whole book in his hand.

"Not quite," said Snape. "The tip of your wand should make contact with the object on the second syllable of the incantation. Any first year would remember that the wand motion usually ought match the incantation of the spell. Try again. Finite."

"Yeah, I do know that, sir" said Harry. "Just... forgot about it for a sec. Sorry. Syrnothimer," he said, making sure the wand motion matched.

The shrunken book was, this time, about the size of a Chocolate Frog card. "Okay. That worked better. Second syllable -- got it."

"And the other books as well," said Snape, folding his arms over his chest, "and then we shall resume with the Occlumency."

Harry cast the spell on the remaining books, pleased with how well it worked, and tucked all three of them back in his bookbag. He was reluctant to, but he felt he had to ask, "Umm... why did you teach me this? Sir?"

Snape glanced at him, a shuttered look in his eyes, and said, "You are aware that for legal purposes, the timestamp of most spells, including time-lapsed ones, marks the moment at which the spell leaves the wand, rather than the conclusion of its effects."

"Er... yeah," said Harry, confused by the seeming non sequitur.

"You are also aware, I am certain, that underage magic use, while against Hogwarts rules, is not actually illegal on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Well, of course. I mean, plenty of people use magic on the train." Harry thought for a moment. "Wait... oh. Oh. I get it, sir -- that's brilliant -- thanks!" Harry grinned, and couldn't help adding, "That's really, umm, Slytherin of you."

Snape snorted. "I am certain I have no idea what you mean by that," he said evenly. "Now, considering we have wasted enough of the evening, let us return to Occlumency, shall we?"