Harry looked at him blankly for a moment, and Severus realized that the teen didn’t believe him. He’d probably never been told that in his life.

Severus abruptly released Harry’s hands, turning to the stove to light a burner for the rice while his mind raced. He was the last person to give advice about self-confidence. He loathed the world only slightly less than he loathed himself.

“For the war, you mean,” Harry said slowly, as if he were almost afraid of hearing any other answer.

Severus was tempted to lie or otherwise ignore the unasked question. Why would I matter, except to fight Voldemort? He could hear it in the teen’s own voice, plaintive and sad and younger than his fifteen years. It would be much easier to say nothing or give some non-committal hum and let Harry think what he will. Severus should keep silent.

“Not necessarily,” he heard himself saying instead.

“What do you mean?” Harry burst, as if unable to help himself.

“I believe,” said Snape slowly, stirring the rice, “that it is a largely understood concept that every human being has intrinsic value.” There! That was safely neutral.

When the teen didn’t respond to that, he continued. “You are a person, like any other.”

Harry didn’t speak for a long time. They continued to work, until Harry’s voice hesitantly reached out into the silence, so quiet that he almost missed it. “I don’t feel like one, sometimes.”

Severus felt his hand still as his heart clenched. He continued stirring mechanically, not knowing what to say to encourage the emotionally repressed teen to open up further. Ha! Like you’re one to talk. He settled for a tactic that had often worked as a head of house. He merely said, “Oh?” and left Harry to fill the silence afterward.

After a moment, the teen did. “A lot of the time I feel normal, and I think that I’m handing it. His death, you know. Cedric’s. But if I think about it too much, or wonder why I’m doing something, I realize that I’m just going through the motions. As if what I think I’m feeling is just how I expect I should be feeling, when really… I don’t feel much of anything, at all.” He kept his head down, and Severus couldn’t get a good look at his face.

“A common reaction after a traumatic experience,” Severus said honestly.

Not really hearing him, Harry continued. “And when I was little, I used to wonder why I wasn’t like other people, ’cause my accidental magic made my family upset. They would yell at me and stuff.” Severus got the distinct impression that ‘yell and stuff’ didn’t nearly cover it, but remained silent in favor ofd hearing more. “They said that normal people didn’t do freaky things like me.”

“You are not a freak,” Severus said strongly, as the word hit too close to home. His own father had called him a freak more than once during his drunken rages. “No wizarding child is a freak for accidental magic.”

“Well, they didn’t see it like that,” Harry said quietly, and Severus realized that he’d surprised the teen by his strong reaction. “They didn’t think I was a person. Not like them.”

Words came to him then. Severus did a meditation breath to keep his voice calm. "They are wrong. They believe that magicals like your friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger are bad, do they not? Do you agree?” The teen rapidly shook his head. “Of course not. You know better. You know the truth. And you, Harry, are no different than they. The Dursleys'… insults, their atrocious falsehoods, are no more true for you than they are for your friends."

"Lies can hurt even when you know they're lies," Harry said.

Pained at that statement, Severus nodded. “I know. But Harry…” he paused, a thousand platitudes coming to him and rejected in the same moment. “You are a person, important, like everyone else. You deserve to be safe, to be happy. Don’t let them take your happiness.”

“It’s not just them,” Harry said, standing up slightly taller and shaking off his hurt. “Voldemort and Fudge have also been doing their damndest to prove that I’m nothing.”

“They are trying to prove their own false images.” Severus snorted. “Fudge wants to prove you a liar, which you are not. The Dark Lord wants to prove that you are no threat to him.”

“Which I’m not,” Harry muttered.

Severus hmmed, but it was not a sound of agreement. Still, deeply-rooted convictions to never compliment a Potter kept his lips shut.

“What?” Harry said, lowering the heat on the mackerel and turning to him demandingly. “You think I have a chance to do anything but die next time we meet?”

“You’ve already bested him four times,” Severus reminded him, amused despite himself that their usual roles of doubt and defense were switched.

“I survived four times,” Harry corrected.

“Trust me, Potter,” Severus said, amusement fading. “When it comes to the Dark Lord, that is more than most others have managed.” Bodies, too many bodies, were marching through his memories.

Harry, sensing the turn of his mood, didn’t respond. Severus awkwardly reached out and ruffled the child’s hair, not sure how to be comforting but wanting Harry to understand that he wasn’t mad. Not at him, Severus thought darkly, nobly shutting down fantasies of showing the Dursleys a trick or two from his Death Eater days. The younger boy didn’t flinch, but looked up at him, smiling a little, and Severus understood that he was grateful for what Severus had tried to tell him. After that, they worked together to finish the meal in a not uncomfortable silence.

Dinner was a quiet affair that night. Severus found himself pondering the teen before him.

To a child who had spent his whole life in a household where he was treated as though he didn’t matter, as if he were somehow lesser than everyone else, the idea of being important by the very virtue of being was entirely foreign.

And, Severus realized as he watched the teen eat woodenly, every primary teacher who never intervened, every peer that never spoke up, would have been an implicit confirmation of this idea to a child who was in a bad situation and never removed from it. Then Harry had come to Hogwarts, where he was hailed by everyone as the Savior of the Wizarding World, and still no one had done anything. He had returned there, summer after summer, as though no one cared enough to stop it.

He also knew, however, that abused children often hid their home lives out of shame or a misplaced sense of duty.

Wanting to discuss this further, but knowing that the moment of candor had passed, Severus eyed the bags under Harry’s eyes. “Perhaps an early night?”

Harry paused, fork halfway up to his mouth. He darted a glance at Severus before returning his fork to his plate. “I don’t think I could sleep right now.”

Severus, privately agreeing, sighed. “Perhaps an Occlumency lesson then.” Cutting off the teen’s question before he could ask it, he said, “Not of the Dark Lord, or the Dursleys either. Perhaps the village?”

Harry’s face brightened. “Yeah.”

They finished eating. Washing the dishes together had become their custom, so Severus spent the time contemplating how to run this lesson.

Sitting down at the table again, he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair comfortably. “We will be learning a new technique tonight, and you can work on building a path of village memories for your mind maze throughout the day tomorrow.”

He knew he’d gotten Harry’s attention when he sat forward, green eyes sparkling with interest. “A new technique?”

“One you will need to use for Quidditch as well, although not yet.” Hopefully, he will get to use it. Severus didn’t mention his private concern that Harry would be unable to return to the wizarding world until reaching majority.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“It is a way to process new memories and place them in your mind maze as they occur,” Severus said.

“Oh,” Harry said, looking less thrilled. Severus smirked. He’d picked up on Severus’ intonation that this would not be an easy task.

“While not easy to master,” Severus acknowledged, “it is very important. One simply does not have time to sit down for an hour or two at the end of every day and sort out their new memories. Additionally, Occluding thoughts and memories as they happen will keep you prepared for an attack at any moment. Unsorted memories are an opportunity for a belligerent Legillimens. They may use them to get a stronghold in your mind and attack you from a safer position.”

Harry grimaced. Good. While Severus didn’t mean to scare the teen, it was important that Harry understand the way an attack worked. “The prevention of access to unsorted memories is every Occlumens’ goal. Many use a wall to block a Legillimens from reaching these. What I have been teaching you, however, is to simply have no unsorted memories by creating a mind maze of which only you know the safe routes.”

“You mean, I can make my mind dangerous for an intruder? Not just confusing, I mean?”

Severus smiled slightly. “That’s a ways away,” he said wryly, and Harry ducked his head. “Eventually, however, that is the goal. A mind maze also has other benefits, which we have already discussed.” Harry nodded.

“What do I do?” Harry asked.

“How do we always start practice?” Severus prompted.

“Meditation,” Harry sighed, closing his eyes. Severus stood and walked over to the side table where Harry had left The Art of War last. He returned to the kitchen table, pleased to see that Harry had kept his eyes closed and continued focusing. A few minutes later, he opened them again, facial expression noticeably calmer.

“Now,” Severus said, “think of your memories, thoughts, feelings, and conjectures relating to this book.” He held up The Art of War. “Sort and occlude them now.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully for a few minutes as he thought of how to structure his thoughts, then nodded and closed his eyes again. Severus waited patiently.

It took less time than sorting the Quidditch memories had, as there were far fewer and it wasn’t the teen’s first time. When Harry grinned at him, signaling a successful attempt, he asked, “How did you do it?”

“I created a tiny room with bookshelves and made each memory a different book on the shelves,” Harry said. “I left room on the shelves for more ‘books’ though, since I haven’t finished with The Art of War it yet.”

Severus nodded. “You can use both pathways and enclosed locations, although I would recommend using rooms for the more sensitive memories and pathways for the less important. That way you can force an intruder down the pathways and guide them away from the rooms.”

“It’s like a really complicated house,” Harry nodded. “I know you said I wouldn’t make traps yet, but can I do that by making rooms of disorienting memories and forcing the Legillimens inside?”

“That is one of many methods,” Severus confirmed. “You can use more than one form of trap. At the moment, however, I want you to read another chapter.”

Severus held out the book to Harry, who took it, looking slightly confused. He’d previously finished chapter five, Energy, so he flipped through the pages to VI: Weak Points and Strong.

“Immerse yourself in the memory room as you read,” Severus instructed. “While you focus on the book, send the new information: impressions, feelings, your surroundings, directly into the room. Occlude the memory as it occurs. This also has the added benefit of improving your memory. Memories you automatically Occlude in the moment will retain a clarity greater than others.”

“So I’m supposed to practice Occluding with the book, while reading, and taking notes?” Harry asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Problem, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir,” Harry said, lowering his gaze to the words on the page. “It’s just a lot to focus on.”

“Which is why this is practice,” Severus reminded him, standing. He passed by the teen and briefly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Be patient with yourself. Becoming frustrated will only impede your focus.”

Harry saluted cheekily, and Severus cuffed him lightly over the head. The teen ducked his head, grinning. Insolence!

Shaking his head in what he disturbingly realized was fondness, Severus walked to the sitting area and settled in to finally finish the scientific study he had started that morning. He could hear the occasional sounds of Harry’s pen scribbling on the paper, as well as the turning of pages as he studied the chapter.

“Sir?” Harry asked.

“Hmm?"

“I’m sorry. And thank you.”

Severus raised his head to see the teen looking at him sincerely. “You’re welcome.”