Harry let out a groan.  Tonks gave Harry a weak, sympathetic smile as she recognised the figure walking towards them.  After blithely insulting Tonks in some way that went over Harry’s head, Snape motioned for Harry to follow him. 

Plodding moodily along the upwardly sloping path leading to the great doors of Hogwarts, Harry tried to ignore the almost visible hate emanating from the professor at his side.  Insulting Tonks was simply mean and unnecessary.  And the loss of points! He had never lost points before he had even stepped into the Great Hall.  Harry was still cursing Malfoy's great stomping foot when Snape opened the front door and roughly ushered him in to the feast, too late realising that, though his nose had healed, his face and shirt were still blood-splattered. 

He headed to the Gryffindor table very conscious of the stares he was garnering from every quarter. 

“Hey, guys,” he said, sitting himself down.  Hermione started to harangue him as soon as he sat.  He listened to her with half an ear while he nibbled at a roll stuffed with cold meat which Ron had saved for him.  He was just able to get a bite of dessert before the dishes vanished and the Headmaster stood to give his speech.

After a hearty welcome to the new and returning students and a repetition of the same old warnings that every year went unheeded by most of the castle's denizens Professor Dumbledore moved his attention to the large man sitting two places to his left. 

“And I am delighted to welcome back an old colleague, Professor Slughorn,” there was a smattering of applause as the students looked dubiously at the bulky teacher, “who will be resuming his former duties as Hogwarts' Potions Master.”   There was a shocked silence.  As one, the black-capped pupils looked agog at Snape who had a thin-lipped smirk gracing his sallow features.  As there were no other new faces it was easy to deduce the Headmaster's next statement.

“Professor Snape will be taking over the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts.”   Whatever else was said was lost on Harry as the loud thumping of blood, fear and anger blocked all other sounds. 

When he had regained his senses Hermione and Ron were talking about the new staffing arrangements and Harry rejoined their conversation.  They could all see how both Dumbledore and Snape's strange comments at Headquarters now made sense.  Harry would be writing to Sirius that evening, wanting his opinion.  Presumably he and Remus had known the new professor when they were at school, thus Dumbledore's request for secrecy.

Harry was comforted, for once, by the fact that none of their previous Defence teachers had managed to complete a full academic year.

He said fiercely, “Well, I for one will be hoping for a death this year.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, groaned and heavily sat down on one of the free settees in the common room, their bags making a heavy dent in the cushions beside them.  It had been a long day and there was no doubt that the teachers were going to ensure that there would be no slacking this year.  In his naivety Harry had assumed that as there would be no formal examinations this year he could perhaps ease off and relax a little.  If there was one thing he had learnt today it was that every professor was hell-bent on persuading them otherwise.  The homework they had amassed today would keep them bogged down for a week.  And it was only Wednesday, the first day of term!

On top of the disdainful lectures and the mountains of homework, Harry had also been carrying around the additional weight of his first meeting with Snape regarding Occlumency that night.  He had not yet had the pleasure of sitting through Defence, 'Great,' he thought, sarcastically, 'I'll be able to rile him up more than usual just before DADA tomorrow.'  The first Potions lesson would also be tomorrow so he would get to judge first hand what all the others had been saying.  He had been surprised, but very pleased, that he and Ron had been accepted into Professor Slughorn's class.  According to the Gryffindor fourth years, who had had him that morning, he was not half bad. 

“Come on, you two.  Let's get down to dinner so that Harry can have a proper meal before seeing Professor Snape.”  Hermione was nudging Ron's foot with hers, encouraging them both to get up. 

Harry was not able to eat much at dinner.  He had remembered Snape in the Black library and he felt his palms become clammy at the memory of the man's anger waving over him.  He could not understand how Snape had started to affect him so much where he never had before.

It did not take nearly as long as Harry would have liked to make his way down to the dungeons.  He took a breath, wiped his hands on his robe and gave a hard, decisive knock on the professor's office door.  At the sharp 'Come in', Harry stepped into the dank and gloomy room.

Snape was staring at Harry with little expression, his quill hand hovering in the air at Harry's interruption.  Harry stood stiffly and did not let his gaze wander to the assorted jars and bottles on the shelves nor, especially, did he meet Snape's eyes.  Instead, he kept his own eyes on the desk and far wall, using only his peripheral vision to keep track of Snape's movements.  The professor indicated the chair in front of his desk with his quill and Harry sat.

Deliberately replacing his quill into its pot, Snape brought his attention to the student in front of him while leaning back with equal slowness and clasping his hands in his lap.  Harry would not be drawn into a staring contest, however.  'It's all just power games with Snape,' he thought.  He maintained his study of the far wall. 

Abruptly, Snape reached down to open a drawer in his desk.  He plucked out a fluted glass potions vial which, though it had no distinguishing features, Harry knew had once contained the twins' Daydream potion. 

“You will be pleased to know, Mr Potter,” said Snape in his clipped way, “that this potion causes no damage to healthy individuals at all.”  He sniffed as though the fact offended him.  “Your unconsciousness and mild headache on waking were direct effects of your intrusion into the Dark Lord's mind.  The potion itself is designed to maintain and project a vision outwards.”  Looking dubiously at the boy in front of him, he added, “Visions are generally defined as dreams which are gained from an external source.  In this case, firstly from the original charm added to the potion's base and subsequently from your intrusion into the Dark Lord's mind.  Thus the potion allows outside viewers to see that vision at the same time.  I imagine it would put many fraudulent seers out of business,” the last was said sneeringly.

“Oh, so it's not just me that it would do that to?” he asked, looking directly at the professor. 

“Quite.  You simply have appalling timing.” 

There was little Harry could say to that.  It was a relief of sorts that the potion had not affected him personally, so he was not a complete freak.  Apart, he thought dryly, from the whole able to get into a megalomaniac’s mind bit.

“Now, to the reason you are here.  You will first reiterate the rules I laid out for you concerning these lessons.”

Harry's initial wariness had waned and the ridiculous request irritated him.  He was here, so obviously he had remembered the when and where!

“Be respectful, be punctual and make an effort.”  He said shortly.

Snape's lips thinned, “You are not succeeding in the former, Mr Potter.”

Harry took a breath, “Sorry, sir, I do remember your rules.” 

“You forgot to mention that you will refer to these sessions as Remedial Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.”

“But no one will believe that!  Defence is my best subject.  Sir,” he added hastily.

“No one is required to believe it.  Both the Dark Lord and the Headmaster are aware of the true purpose of these meetings and no one else is important.”

“Except all the students.  You just want to humiliate me,” said Harry, angrily, gripping the chair's arm rests.

“You will remember respect, Potter!”

Harry tried to calm himself down.  There was no point in getting himself worked up in Snape's office, it could only lead to another jar of cockroaches flying his way and actually hitting him. 

“I apologise, professor.”  It came out stonily but it was the capitulation that Snape wanted.

“Hmph, very well.  Let's move on.  Today I will see if you have retained any knowledge from last year.”

Snape stood up, came round his desk and motioned to Harry to stand.  With a flick of his wand the chair was pushed to a corner and the two were facing each other.  Harry automatically took a defensive posture, wand held tightly by his side, trying to prepare himself for whatever Snape would throw at him.

“None of that, Potter, you will prepare your mind for my attack.  You will employ only your mental defences.  If you possess any,” he added disparagingly. 

Harry did not loosen his grip on his wand but he did move to stand head on, a concession to a less aggressive pose.  He took a deep breath in to ready himself and –

“Legilimens!”

'I'm not ready, you bastard!' But the thought was hardly finished before memories were flashing before his internal eyes.  Incapacitated, feeling helpless rage as he lay painfully on the carriage floor, not able to even spit at Malfoy's face as he sneeringly covered him with his invisibility cloak; standing awkwardly to one side at Kings Cross as Uncle Vernon paled at Moody's warning, hoping that his uncle would actually understand the threat and take heed of it.  Harry struggled to control the flow, slow it down, stop it, but the parade was relentless.  The chaotic fight clearing for a moment as he saw the green of Bellatrix's curse hurtling towards Sirius, too fast; Sirius stumbling and so managing to dodge that one but moving far too close to the veiled archway; a Death Eater aiming a wordless, purple curse at his godfather, Sirius being saved by Remus's hastily thrown shield charm; Bellatrix-- No! Harry was struggling all he could, he did not want to go where these memories were leading him.  Running after Bellatrix; failing to cast the cruciatus; Voldemort appearing in the Ministry's atrium.  Harry had barely survived the agony of Voldemort's possession at the time, he could not live through it again.  But Snape was relentless.  The malevolent, red eyes, always red; the searing, blinding pain, curling him up; No! NO! Without conscious thought, Harry brought up his wand and protected himself with all the strength he could bring to bear, as though the dark-robed figure across from him were Voldemort himself.

“Protego!”

Harry knew he had caught Snape unawares, the tips of memories which were not his own were flashing past and in his anger he made no move to stop them.  A greasy black-haired boy being cuffed round the head by a stout man; the boy with a red-haired companion playing pooh-sticks on a bridge over a murky river; the boy, younger, out of breath, running through littered alley-ways; the teenager--

Snape had dammed the flood before it had even begun, the memories being no more than snatches, barely pinpricks before his eyes. 

With his vision clear again, Harry saw Snape's face.  His rage was unmistakable.  The thin lips were drawn back in a snarl, his arms stiff with restraint.  Harry recognised this as a 'cockroach moment' and stepped back hastily.

“Stay where you are!”

They were both breathing heavily.  Abruptly, Snape turned and moved to his desk chair behind his desk.  He took hold of the back with his left hand, gripping tightly; his fingers on his right hand were equally bloodless from the pressure he had on his wand.  Harry could see the effort the man was making to control his impulses and he was grateful for it.  'Just dismiss me before you blow the room apart,' he thought savagely. 

After a moment Snape seemed to have gained some control over himself.  “You were told not to use your wand to protect your mind,” he said, ominously, quietly. 

“I couldn't help--”

“Silence!”  Another deep breath and Snape continued, “You have no mental defences to speak of whatsoever.  Shall I fetch parchment and quill so that you may owl a list of everything you know about the Order, your friends, your habits, your favourite food direct to the Dark Lord?  Believe me, it will save us both this farcical waste of time.”  Snape's piercing stare was as hard as ever but Harry was back on familiar territory and was equally livid.

“But I'm supposed to learn Occlumency to stop me entering his mind – not the other way round!  After the Ministry, Volde--” the bared teeth were enough to change Harry's words, “he probably won't ever try to get into mine again!”

“And you are willing to rest the outcome of this war on a 'probably'?”  The quiet question made Harry's shoulders slump as nothing in that office ever had before.  Because he was not willing to do that, was he?

Seeing the effect of his words, Snape continued more harshly, “Occlumency and Legilimancy go hand in hand, you are a fool if you have not managed to pick up even that small piece of knowledge.”

“But I--”

“Do not interrupt me, Potter!  Resume your seat,” the wooden chair with the armrests skittered across the floor again.  Harry did not feel comfortable sitting while Snape was still standing, even if he was behind his desk.  At the warning sign of Snape's brow beginning to knit, Harry quickly decided obedience was the safest course.  He sat down heavily, his anger waning to sulkiness. 

“You will listen and attempt to use those two brain cells of yours for more than the basic functioning of your body.”  His glare dared Harry to say something.  Harry, instead, resumed his earlier inspection of the far wall.  Snape's disposition did not improve but he did not make a point of it. 

“You and the Dark Lord share a unique link which is not fully understood.  What is clear to those who have a modicum of intellect, however, is that you are both able to use Legilimancy, consciously and unconsciously, to penetrate each other's minds at a distance.  The only defence against Legilimancy is Occlumency.  A trained Occlumens can create a barrier against unwanted intrusion.  This barrier, in addition, will keep the Occlumens' mind to himself – that is, his mind can be trained to stay behind that barrier.  You will notice that I am using short sentences to aid your comprehension.” 

In spite of the sarcasm, Snape seemed to have calmed down while giving his pedantic explanation.  He retook his seat and asked, “Have I made myself clear so far?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Harry, glancing at the professor's face to avoid a rebuke for disrespect. 

And, in truth, he had.  Dumbledore thought Occlumency training was vital.  So did Voldemort.  And Snape had cleared up why.  Perhaps he would even be able to initiate contact with Voldemort's mind without any pain or danger to himself?  The sudden thought struck him powerfully.  Last year he had wanted to know what was going on and he had not cared if the information came directly from the madman himself, 'Which was just stupid,' he acknowledged.  He had not thought of actually learning Occlumency properly and using it against Voldemort.  Not that Snape had been any good at teaching him in any case.  Rather, he thought, backtracking slightly, it would have to be Legilimancy he learnt.  And this time he would learn.  How much better would their – his – chances be if they knew exactly what Voldemort was thinking?

“So I am already using Legilimancy then, sir?”

“Yes, unconsciously.”

“Perhaps we should start with that and then move on to Occlumency, sir?”  Harry tried to make the request in a reasonable tone.

“No, Potter.  Occlumency should always precede Legilimancy.  The latter is a dangerous exercise and cannot be accomplished safely without the protection that Occlumency provides.  If you had not gathered already, it is the main reason for your lessons.  The Headmaster feels, for some reason, that the safety of your mind is important.”  Snape seemed to be regaining his humour and said sneeringly “I, of course, know how little of value there is there.” 

Harry ignored the jibe.  What Snape was saying made sense. 

“Are there any books I could read to help me, sir?”

Snape seem surprised at the request but answered evenly, “Very few.  The mental arts are rarely practised and even more rarely written about.  Most texts make obscure references and the only real book to attempt instruction is over a hundred and fifty years old, the techniques in use now make it quite out of date.”

Harry's heart sank.  He would have to rely on Snape for all his information.

“If you commit to dedicating yourself to learning these arts, I see no reason for you to fail.”

Harry looked up, surprised.  That had sounded disturbingly close to encouragement. 

“I understand you are able to resist the Imperious Curse, without Occlumency.  That requires mental strength.  You mastered and performed the Patronus Charm at a moment of extreme stress and at a very young age.  That required manipulating your emotions.  You forced the Dark Lord out from his possession of your body.  That required both those skills as well as tenacity and fortitude.”  The man's face, shadowed by the greasy curtains of his hair, bore little expression; his tone of voice, likewise, was neutral.  Harry could not believe what he was hearing.

“You will return here at eight o'clock on Friday.  You will have considered in depth the importance of these lessons and you will be prepared to explain why they are so.”  He took up his quill, “You are dismissed.”

Harry was speechless.  He said nothing, simply leaving the gloomy office in a daze.