"Legilimens."

Harry was too surprised—and too disoriented with sleep—to even try to keep Snape out. He could barely brace himself for the punishing attack, but surprisingly it didn't come. Instead, ghost-like hands seemed to graze the surface of his mind and he found strange non-memories playing out with a dream-like quality. Luna astride a thestral, Sirius on the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore standing in the ocean beside a pensieve. Ashes. A golden feather.

Suddenly the ghost-like feeling was gone. Harry found himself still sitting in the lounge chair, not on the floor on his hands and knees panting from fighting the Legilimency spell. He felt curiously bereft.

"Be still for a moment longer," said Snape's quiet voice. "Close your eyes. Attempt to recall the dream in detail."

Harry closed his eyes, compelled to do so by the hypnotic quality of his professor's voice, his mind complacent and weary. The dream Snape had observed, had stirred up from his slumbering mind, began to play out.

"Look for the connections." Snape's voice was low as he spoke from Harry's level, sitting on the end of the lounge chair beside him. "Recurring themes. These are important. Take time to observe, to recall."

Five minutes later, Harry opened his eyes again and found Snape holding out a small notebook and a muggle pencil.

"Write them down," he instructed. "Don't think too hard—go with what is most obvious."

Harry looked over at him strangely but completed the exercise in silence. It wasn't difficult at all.

"Now," said Snape when Harry stopped writing. "We compare lists. Read off your first item."

Harry noticed then that Snape also had a small notebook and pencil. This lesson—for it had to be part of his training—was so unlike his previous Occlumency experience that he briefly wondered if Remus Lupin had polyjuiced himself into Severus Snape and was in fact sitting before him, looking very Snapelike. Snape's clinical manner persisted but it was so much less grating than his previous constant derision and belittlement that Harry wisely complied.

"Flying," said Harry, reading off the first item on his list. "I think that's the most important—it's the one that stood out the most to me."

"Good. I noted that one as well. Brooms and thestrals and birds." He made a mark in his notebook and appeared to scan the list. "Your Godfather," he said, his voice strangely tight, as if it cost him greatly not to call Sirius "the mutt" or your "Dogfather."

Harry did not look up. He didn't want to see Snape's face or let Snape see his. He made another tick in his notebook. "I've that one too," he stated softly, then paused to consider. "Water."

"I put down 'ocean'," said Snape. "Ashes." Harry closed his eyes against the image of Sirius turning to ash and the ashes blowing through his outstretched fingers. His turn.

"Birds," he said. "Or perhaps wings—the thestral had them as well."

"Related to flying," muttered Snape. "That will be a strong one." He studied his list again. "Loneliness—or isolation."

"I had 'peace,'" said Harry, eying Snape speculatively. Was what Harry thought of as peace more like loneliness to Snape? "I don't have any more themes," he said. "I think the rest might be symbols—items I've encountered in the past—the stone, the sword, the golden snitch…"

"The pensieve," added Snape, still staring at his list. "The cupboard. All of them symbols, in or out of context." He looked up at Harry. "We will discuss these in detail at another time."

"Are you planning on telling me what we're doing?" asked Harry after a moment of silence, somewhat disturbed that the cupboard under the stairs had come up yet again in an Occlumency lesson. He hoped he didn't sound whiney.

Snape's head jerked up quickly. "In time," he answered sharply. "If your feeb…" He stopped himself, and Harry knew he had been about to slip up and call him feeble-brained or feeble-minded or something of the sort. Snape turned his head to stare at the ocean for a long moment, then turned back to face Harry.

"You have just experienced your first sea dream. It was helped along this time by the potion you drank before falling asleep. I deliberately woke you while you were still dreaming and used Legillimency immediately to anchor the dream images for you. They are—as I am sure you are aware—fleeting and do not tend to remain long after waking." He steepled his hands in front of him then closed his fingers and rested his chin on his hands. "It was necessary to take you by surprise—I trust the overall experience was not altogether unpleasant."

"OK…" said Harry. He considered a moment before continuing. "Why did I need to remember this dream? What makes it important?"

Snape regarded Harry steadily and Harry knew he had asked the right question. He was interested this time, feeling very relaxed despite the unexpected legilimency and the mixed images and memories the dream had stirred up.

"The potion you drank was a muscle relaxant laced with a mild—a very mild—hallucinogenic—and not a Muggle drug but one of my own creation. When taken on the tail of strong emotion—in this case, discussing that scar on your hand—and followed soon after ingestion by sleep, it tends to induce a specific type of dream. These dreams contain emotions and images that, once identified, are used to reinforce Occlumency shields. The images can be evocative, both positive and negative, but are not generally thought of as disturbing. You might argue that certain images in your dream were indeed disturbing…" he paused and Harry nodded, thinking of Sirius turning to ash, much like Professor Quirrell had when Harry was trying to save the Philosopher's Stone. "…but were you left with a feeling of dread? Was that the image burned in your mind upon awakening?"

Harry shook his head. He thought about pointing out that the only things burning in his mind when he woke from the dream were Snape's black eyes and the whispered "Legilimens." But to be fair, he wasn't feeling particularly sad or depressed right now.

Snape was continuing. "The amount of hallucinogenic is critical—too much and the user falls into horrific dreams involving one's greatest fears."

The statement didn't sound like a threat, but Harry could not help but note that Snape did have the power to tip his hand a bit too much when making that particular potion. His rational mind told him he should be incensed that he had been drugged without his knowledge—but he wanted to know more and knew that indignation—no matter how righteous—wouldn't keep Snape talking.

Thinking about what Snape had said about the dream itself brought up another question. "Why is it called a see dream?" he asked.

"The ocean has proven to be a natural teaching aid for beginning Occlumens. It provides an almost hypnotic background noise and has a proven calming effect on the mind. The ocean air has a similar effect. Occlumency is not an art that comes easy to most. It is most difficult to learn if the mind is troubled. A sea dream is a dream evoked by the ocean—by its sound, its smell, the feel of the salt air. You will find that most—if not all—of your dreams while at Shell Cottage will be sea dreams."

Harry had realized his mistake as Snape began talking—he had meant sea, not see.

"Will you be drugging me again, then?" The question was actually sincere—Harry had not meant to be flippant.

Snape raised an eyebrow. The gesture actually comforted Harry—nice Snape was scary, neutral Snape was creepy but sarcastic Snape…sarcastic Snape made him feel right at home. He grinned.

"With hallucinogenics? After the dream that you just had? The last time I experienced that much symbolism was at my Catholic grandmother's funeral service."

"Sir? Was that a yes or a no?"

Once again, as it had in the sitting room earlier, the corner of Snape's mouth twitched as if wanting to begin a smile.

"That, Mr. Potter, was a no."

"OK, then." He chanced another smile, then quickly looked down at his notebook. "So what does all this mean? It reminds me a bit of casting a patronus—well, having to call up the strong emotions, anyway."

"Well reasoned," commented Snape, managing to not make the statement sound like a compliment. "The patronus spell is indeed a type of Mind Magic. As is the Imperius Spell."

"I can resist Imperio," said Harry, rather softly, as if talking to himself. "And cast a Patronus. So why am I pants at Occlumency?"

"While it costs me quite a bit to admit this, Mr. Potter, to be fair you were not pants at it. You simply did not want to erect barriers in your mind. You wanted to continue receiving the dream visions. And frankly, I didn't want to teach you to occlude. A lethal combination that nearly cost you and your friends your lives." He was observing Harry closely as he made that statement, and Harry swallowed a protest. "Note that I said a lethal combination, Mr. Potter. I assigned fault to both of us."

He didn't give Harry the chance to move into melancholy and self-blame over Sirius' death.

"Occlumency, Mr. Potter, draws heavily upon symbolism. You will need something representative of a barrier, first. Think of it as a figurative defensive shield."

"Water," said Harry almost immediately. He remembered his dream, how the sword and his scar had seemed distorted in the water. How the ocean separated him from his friends on holiday. He looked up at his teacher. "Will water work?"

He couldn't interpret Snape's expression, but the man nodded. "It is not commonly used but it has proven to be a strong tool for . . . some."

"What's more common, then?" asked Harry, curious.

"Stone or brick walls, metal bars, even flames. But mind you, these are the beginner's tools only, used for basic mind defense. Occlumency becomes a much more subtle art if one wants to occlude without your attacker knowing you are doing so."

"Basic will have to be enough for me, then," said Harry. "I'm not exactly known for my subtlety."

"Hmmm…I can hardly think of a more subtle way of arriving at Hogwarts than in a flying Muggle car," commented Snape.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We don't have to argue the point," he said.

"Your barrier, then, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape, refocusing him on the original discussion.

"Oh. I'd like to try water first, then."

Snape nodded his acceptance. "You will also need something to use as a diversion or distraction. This must symbolize a strong and pleasant memory or an experience you always enjoy. As you close your mind with the chosen barrier, you must at the same time throw up a distraction. The distraction is more for yourself than for the Legilimens attempting to break in. It keeps you focused on something trivial… mundane… enjoyable."

"Flying, then, obviously," said Harry. He could already picture himself doing mental laps around a black lake on his broom, or perhaps on a hippogriff, a thestral…even a dragon.

Again, Snape nodded his approval. "Finally, you will need a way to make yourself disappear. Think of it as hiding—obscuring—your identity. Imagine surrounding your mind with a deep well, or behind a roaring waterfall. Offer your brain the diversion of circling above on your broom—keep yourself moving. If I were to attempt to break into your mind while you are in this state, and your barrier is strong enough, I would only see you on your broom, circling. Connect that to a real memory of flying—put yourself on that cursed hippogriff or in a Quidditch match. Then make yourself disappear. Disillusionment will work…or your invisibility cloak."

Harry shook his head. The water was in a deep and dark lake. He was gliding over it on Buckbeak.

"Ashes," he said simply, picturing first Sirius, then himself, turning to ashes and blowing away across the lake.

Snape nodded, apparently understanding.

"But why do I need to disappear?" he asked after a moment's more consideration. "Isn't the idea to stay distracted with the diversion?"

Snape looked momentarily confused, then seemed to comprehend. "You will not make the 'diversion' you disappear but the real you. With the barrier up and the diversion in place, you will attempt to make yourself disappear from your secure location behind—or within—your barrier." He stood up then. "We will begin to practice later this afternoon. It is nearly time for lunch now, and after lunch we will brew the scar treatment potion. Physical therapy will be at 2 p.m. daily, followed by reading—and dreaming if you are so inclined—on the porch."

"Professor Snape," said Harry as the man headed toward the kitchen and begin preparing their midday meal. "Would you mind telling me—when you occlude—what's your barrier? Or your diversion?"

Snape stopped in the doorway, facing the kitchen, his hand on the white-painted door frame. He paused a moment before turning back to face Harry. "My diversion is also flying," he answered carefully. "Come, you may help with the vegetables."

Harry followed him, wondering what had given Snape pause. He tried—and failed—to picture Snape actually enjoying flying on a broom. Didn't he say the diversion had to be an enjoyable experience? Suddenly an image came to mind—Snape the great bat of the dungeon, gliding through the air with his robes and cape billowing out behind, supported on nothing but air. More free, perhaps, than he had ever before been in his life.