'Double Snape!’ was the unfortunate thought that first crossed Harry’s conscious mind upon waking on Friday morning.  Not only did they have him for their first Defence lesson of the year that afternoon but Harry also had his second Occlumency session with the man that evening.  After talking to Ron and Hermione the other day, Harry had realised the importance they attached to the lessons for his own mental wellbeing.  Having had the chance to think over his tentative thoughts during the first meeting with Snape this year, he had also decided that the lessons were worth pursuing for other reasons.

 

The opportunities that learning Occlumency and Legilimency would afford him in the war, in which he had recently learnt he had a starring role, could not be underestimated.  As far as Harry could see, the only advantages that he currently had over Voldemort (and which no one else had) were his mother’s protection, owning the twinned wand and the strange link that existed between the two of them.  The first two had saved him at times of complete defencelessness but the latter had been used against him just a few months previously. 

 

He was under no illusions as to who, between himself and Voldemort, was the more powerful, the more well-versed in spellwork, the more (frankly) intelligent of them.  And yet, Harry was the one destined to end the war; either by success or failure.  If this third advantage could be used offensively then that was what had to be done. 

 

Could he use Legilimency to gain access to Voldemort’s mind consciously and thence to his plans?  Without detection?  Could he manipulate the monster’s thoughts?  Plant memories as had been done to him?  The possibilities had excited Harry more than he cared to admit.  Harry had been caught between fear and worry ever since Dumbledore had revealed the prophecy.  Perhaps this was what the prophecy meant by the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’?  Obviously, Voldemort was aware of the link and he had directed Snape to teach him Occlumency, but if Harry became a skilled Legilimens then that would be a power about which Voldemort knew not. 

 

Unless Snape told him. 

 

And only if Harry could learn the skill.  From Snape. 

 

Two simple considerations which stopped the excitement dead.  Although Harry had been reassured by Snape’s unexpected belief in him, he could not easily forget the horrors of last year’s ‘lessons’. 

 

 

 

 

Hermione had been cool towards the two boys for the whole of the previous evening but had condescended to talk to them again at breakfast.  Mostly for the sake of information, it seemed.

 

“I don’t approve of you using that book, Harry.  The sooner you get your own copy, the better.  Still,” she said, awash with moral superiority, “we can agree to disagree.  Tell me what Snuffles said.”

 

So breakfast had been a mumbled conversation about the intelligence they had received from Sirius.  No headway was gained in examining its meaning however and further discussion was deferred till lunch.  Harry did learn, though, that the first of his special lessons with Dumbledore would begin the next morning.

 

The three friends, immediately on leaving the Charms classroom, picked up sandwiches and fruit from the Grand Hall to take outside.  They found a secluded spot in the courtyard where they were protected from the roaring wind and any potential eavesdroppers.  Harry was not a little concerned about how paranoid he was becoming.

 

They exchanged various theories as to what the Headmaster would be teaching Harry, until Ron raised the issue of Snape.

 

“Well, as I see it,” said Hermione, “there are several reasons the information he gave might have been wrong.  Firstly--,”

 

“He’s a bloody traitor,” interjected Ron.

 

“Of course, that has to be considered,” puffed out Hermione, seemingly more annoyed at the interruption itself rather than its content, “but, if we trust Professor Dumbledore, then it’s possible that Professor Snape was ill-informed or that he misheard.  Perhaps the plan changed later, perhaps it was a test of loyalty, perhaps--,”

 

“Perhaps he’s a man of peace who likes to adopt orphaned kittens!” exclaimed Ron.

 

Harry grinned, “Yeah, or he’s renounced being a git and is taking up the cause of Muggle rights.”  At Hermione’s tight face, he added, “Look, we know there are a thousand different possibilities.  Maybe those seven Muggles dying somehow saved the entire population of London.  The point is, Hermione, we don’t know.  Until we do, we ought to think in terms of worst case scenarios.”

 

“You do realise, Harry, that Snape truly being loyal to Voldemort – oh for goodness sake, Ron! – really is the worst of the worst case scenarios?” 

 

There was nothing that either Ron or Harry could say to that.  It was true, they could all see how important the man was to the war, whichever side he was on.

 

 

 

 

Leaving the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry was livid and anything but reassured about Snape’s loyalty.  His opening speech had been as passionate as Harry remembered his introductory Potions speech being; although this time he had been sure not to copy a single word down, even though that had not stopped him receiving a detention.  The man had essentially been advocating learning the Dark Arts themselves.  Malfoy had been lapping it up, Harry had noticed.  ‘He’s definitely looking shiftier these days, anyway,’ but Harry had not yet been able to convince his friends that the Malfoy heir was up to anything other than his usual tricks. 

 

Hermione gave Harry an exasperated look.  He knew he ought to have held his tongue but the rest of the class had appreciated his humour.  ‘Not sure it was worth a detention, though,’ he thought to himself.

 

“See you two later, then” said Hermione, as she took a different turning towards the Arithmancy classroom.

 

Ron and Harry trudged up to the common room to spend the rest of the afternoon playing chess.  Hermione was not pleased when she returned and found they had not even started on any of the homework they had been given.  She soon had them settled down with books open and parchment being scrawled upon.  Ten minutes before the time they normally started down to dinner she put down her quill.

 

“Harry?” she asked, tentatively.

 

“Hmm?” said Harry.

 

“About Occlumency,” she hesitated. 

 

Harry looked up questioningly, “Yeah?”

 

“You are going to try, aren’t you?” 

 

Harry noticed that she seemed worried and rushed to reassure her.

 

“’Course.”  At her disbelieving look, he continued, “I don’t know what I think about Snape but I do know that it’s important for me to learn Occlumency.  Very important.”  ‘And Legilimency,’ he added to himself.  But his promise to be completely truthful with his best friends was already faltering.  He did not think that Hermione would appreciate his thoughts on using the mental arts as a weapon against Voldemort.  ‘I’ll tell them when I can use them confidently,’ he promised himself.

 

Hermione nodded and Ron broke the sombre atmosphere by wondering aloud what dinner would be.

 

 

 

 

 

“Come in.”

 

Stealing himself for whatever might be in store for him, Harry entered Snape’s office.  Seated behind his desk, Snape gestured to the same wooden chair from last time placed in front of his desk.  He did not waste any time in putting Harry on the spot.

 

“As the Headmaster has informed me of your meeting with him tomorrow, I shall expect you in the Defence classroom at nine o’clock on Sunday morning,” Snape paused to make sure Harry acknowledged the information.  “You will maintain respect in both my classroom and office.  Now, do explain why these lessons are important, Mr Potter.”

 

Harry was glad that he had half-prepared an answer.  The man’s ‘homework’ had sounded almost rhetorical but, as every student had learnt the hard way, Snape was a bloody git. 

 

“Because I need to be able to protect my mind from Vol--,” the glare stopped him short, “You-Know--,” this time he stopped himself; it was a stupid sobriquet, “Ugh, him.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I need to stop myself from invading his mind unconsciously.  So,” Harry took a breath, “I plan to learn everything you can teach me and I will try my hardest to succeed, sir.”  Harry noticed that Snape seemed slightly taken aback and was pleased with the effect.

 

“Very well, Potter, we shall see how that pans out, shan’t we?” 

 

Harry tried to put on an expression of studious keenness but, from Snape’s dubious look, doubted he succeeded.

 

“Before we begin, let me emphasise that the Headmaster is aware of, and has approved, my actions in these lessons.  Since you were not able to learn through traditional methods, I have decided to take a different approach.” 

 

That did not comfort Harry in the slightest but before he could question the statement he was being told to stand up.  Snape came in front of his desk and made the chair tuck itself into the corner.

 

“As I said on Wednesday, casting the Patronus charm requires a wizard to manipulate his emotions.  We shall use this as a starting point.  Cast your Patronus, if you will, Mr Potter.”

 

Surprised at this turn of events, Harry was nonetheless pleased that the lesson would start on a good note at the very least.  He easily conjured the Patronus, barely having to think of Sirius or Ron or Hermione.  He smiled when he saw the stag rise up on his hind legs and paw the air.

 

“How wonderfully self-important!” said Snape, but it was not enough to rid Harry of his feeling of happiness.  At an abrupt gesture from Snape he allowed the stag to fade away.

 

“As you are no doubt aware, it is one thing to produce a Patronus in a room empty of threats,” Harry did not feel like disputing that this was such a room, “therefore, I shall cast Legilimens at you.  I will look for one terrible memory and keep it at the front of your mind.  You will not protect yourself at all.  Is that clear?”

 

Harry was aghast.  Which memory would Snape use?  There were far too many to choose from.  “Sir--,”

 

“Is it clear, Potter?”  Harry could only nod dumbly.  “When I am assured that you are firmly in the memory, I will add a Dementor to the scene.  As soon as you are aware of it you are to cast your Patronus.  Do you understand?”

 

“Umm, yeah.  Cast my Patronus when I see a Dementor.”

 

“Exactly,” sneered Snape.  “Legilimens!”

 

Again, there was no time to prepare and a memory was plucked from within his mind.  Harry could tell that Snape had not had to search for more than a fraction of a second to locate it.  The graveyard was dark and the headstone to which he was tied was cold.  Wormtail had finished the potion because where before there had been a small, ugly, hunchbacked creature, there was now the figure of man.  The man was holding up his arms, examining his new body.  Harry could not help but feel the terror he had felt then.  Wormtail on the ground, his tears mixing with his blood, begging his master for what he had been promised.  Harry tried to stop the memory, change it somehow but it was obvious that Snape was in full control.  He was powerless.

 

Suddenly, a new figure entered the scene.  A tall being, robed in black, made his way to Harry.  The very air was turning to ice and the all too familiar, panicked voices of his parents were becoming clearer and clearer.  The image wavered but then became stronger again.  The Dementor was within reach now.  No!  Harry knew this had not happened at the time but he was firmly in the memory now and could not remember Snape’s instructions.  He acted on instinct; the Dementor, bending his neck for the kiss, was a greater threat than Voldemort.

 

“Expecto Patronum!”

 

The silver stag erupted triumphantly from the tip of his wand.  Immediately, the memory dissolved and a glow of relief and happiness overtook Harry.  He stumbled over to the chair in the corner.  After some moments of unsteady breathing he realised that Snape had said nothing about his performance.  Glancing up, he was surprised to see the man looking almost... shaken.  That was the only way Harry could describe it.  Soon enough it was gone, replaced by a blank expression.

 

“What was that, Mr Potter?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“What happens,” bit out Snape, “when a Dementor approaches you?”

 

“Oh, I get cold and I can hear my parents’ voices when, you know, they,” Harry cleared his throat, “when he killed them.”

 

Snape said nothing but turned away slightly.  There was a moment’s stillness and Harry was surprised at the respectfulness of it, ‘I suppose that even Snape can’t sneer at an orphan’s worst memory’.  The silence did not last long.

 

“Did you remember my instructions or did you act on instinct?”

 

“Umm, well, instinct, I suppose.  Sir,” said Harry, standing up once more. 

 

The tirade about his ineptitude did not come, instead Snape simply said, “Again.”  Harry was instantly prepared but was almost caught off guard by Snape unexpectedly taking a deep breath.

 

“Legilimens!”

 

The graveyard, the dark and the cold; Wormtail cowering, nursing the stub where his arm used to be; Voldemort with red eyes, triumphant, gloating; a Dementor reaching out his greyish hand—

 

“Expecto Patronum!”  The glorious stag reared, his pelt shimmering with pearly pureness.  The memory and the graveyard disappeared.

 

“Instinct again?”  Snape did not even acknowledge the nod.  “Very well, this time I will use a different memory.  I will not use a Dementor either; instead, you will conjure your proud stag at the point where the memory diverges from what happened in reality.”

 

Harry nodded again and stood, flushed with his success, in the centre of the office.

 

“Legilimens!”

 

Once more Snape seemed to take the barest fraction of second to find the memory he was looking for, everything else passing by so fast that Harry was not even able to take note of the memories that were dismissed.  Harry was eleven and pushing his broomstick to the limit.  The Hufflepuff seeker had not even see the telltale glimmer of the snitch and Harry knew, just knew, that they were going to win.  He stretched out his arm, clawing the air.  Suddenly, the opposing seeker was by his side, Harry was aware of the boy’s presence but did not bother to glance at him. “Hey, Harry!”  And Harry realised that it was not a boy but an adult man, with shaggy hair – Sirius!  Harry smiled.  What was he—oh!  Harry tried to bring up his usual thoughts for casting his Patronus but Sirius’s smile was too distracting.  Realising that that would never work, he instead used the feeling from the memory itself – the real exhilaration of the flight and the happiness that Sirius always brought him even into a memory he had no place in.

 

“Expecto Patronum!”  The stag made his reappearance in Snape’s office and the memory dissolved immediately.

 

“How touching,” sneered Snape, but nothing the professor said could destroy Harry’s current elation.  He did not know how conjuring Patronus after Patronus was going to help him with Occlumency but he was doing everything right so far.

 

“You took longer that time,” said Snape.  Well, nearly right.  “Again.” 

 

And so they continued.  Harry relived memories from the last five years that were terrifying, amusing, boring (Binns’ lessons), depressing, humiliating (Snape’s lessons) and uninteresting.  Snape would insert Dementors and vampires, Muggle cars and aeroplanes, Filch and Mrs Norris, McGonagall in her animagus form.  Once he added Fudge to a scene where Harry was eating a huge fudge ice-cream outside Florean Fortescue’s.  Harry could not but help laugh at that one.  He sobered up as soon as he remembered where he was and that Snape most certainly did not have a sense of humour.

 

With what must have been his twentieth Patronus of the evening, Harry was well and truly exhausted.  Snape brought the chair out of its corner and allowed Harry to rest.  He sat down, elbows on knees and with his head drooping over his clasped hands.  It was a moment before he realised how defenceless the posture left him.

 

Regaining his breath somewhat, Harry looked up through his fringe.  Snape was watching him.

 

“As you tired your reaction time slowed.  However,” the man looked as if he was sucking a lemon, “at your most alert you reacted adequately.” 

 

Harry was relieved.  He was also intrigued by the lesson.

 

“How did you add things to my memory, sir?”

 

“Unlike you, I am a capable Occlumens.”

 

“You mean, you can change people’s memories, not just add them, like V--, he did?” asked Harry, rather shocked at the implication.

 

Snape sighed, as if Harry were too dense to realise what he was asking.  “The Dark Lord created memories, yes, and used your link to send them to you.  I believe you are not unaware of his skill?  And, obviously, I changed yours.  But you do not believe those changes now, do you?”

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“A talented Occlumens can manipulate their own memories.  With Legilimency they can also alter other people’s, though fixing them as reality requires rather more skill and power.”

 

“Is that how the Obliviators do it?”

 

“Most certainly not,” grimaced Snape.  “Those Ministry fools have less mental discipline than you.”  And Harry was not stupid enough to take that as a compliment.  “No, they deal with Muggles by using the Memory Charm and the power of suggestion.  Since Muggles are predisposed to rationalising away the Wizarding world anyway, there is little real skill required.”

 

“But what about all of Lockhart’s victims?”

 

“When a witch or wizard is Obliviated they do not gain memories, they simply lose the ones associated with a trigger.  In other words, there is a gap and the victim is aware of the loss.  Really, Potter, do you not pay attention in any of your subjects?”

 

Harry ignored that and wondered how to phrase the request that had occurred to him.

 

“Umm,” hesitated Harry.

 

“Yes, Potter?”  Harry could see the man was nearing the end of his patience but decided to press on with his request nonetheless.  It was an important piece of magic.

 

“Since we’ve been doing lots on the Patronus Charm, would you,” he coughed, “show me how to send a message using one?” he blurted out.

 

Snape blinked, surprised.  “Not tonight.  If you do as well on Monday, then I shall after that lesson.”  Harry nodded.  Truthfully, he did not think he could take any more work that evening. 

 

“Is there any homework, sir?”  The surprise on Snape’s face was actually quite gratifying, Harry thought.

 

“You will think over today’s lesson and attempt to define to yourself how you manipulated your emotions from one particular set, for example, fear or boredom, to another.  That is, those associated with casting a Patronus.”

 

Harry nodded and bit down on a yawn.  The office door flung wide and Harry nodded to the professor before leaving for the Gryffindor common room.