“This isn’t fair!” Ron wailed as he threw his quill down and slouched in his seat. “Not even a week into classes and already the they’re assigning us more work than what we did all of last term! And McGonagall’s the worse! She wants six feet of parchment on how to transfigure vegetables into multi-part instruments by Monday!” Scrunching his face up into a look of utter suffering, he tossed his half-finished roll of ink stained parchment onto the mound of books and papers already cluttering the middle of the table. “And she’s not the only one. We have a five foot long essay for Snape, and another one for Flitwick. It’s not fair, I tell you!”

“Oh, Ronald, stop it,” Hermione sighed. “The professors warned us end of last term that our Fifth Year was going to be the hardest one yet. We have OWLs to study for, and all the professors want us to be prepared for them. This is going to be a very important year. You should have studied over summer holiday like I did. Then you would have been more prepared for the start of term.”

“But it’s only the first week of classes!” Ron cried. “This just isn’t right! It’s torture! And it‘s Friday to boot! This is going to take all weekend to do! What were they thinking when they assigned us all this work? Don’t they know they actually have to read and grade this stuff?”

“Maybe if you stopped complaining and just did your work for once like you’re suppose to do instead of sitting here complaining, then maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about having to do it all this weekend. You still have a few hours before dinner to get some of it done,” Hermione shot back, started to get annoyed with Ron’s whining.

Giving Hermione an indignant look, Ron glanced at the last member of their group. “What do you think, Harry? Don’t you think all this work is total codswallop?”

For a moment the dark haired boy said nothing and just continued to stare at the heavy book in his lap. It was obvious by the distant in the look in his eyes that he wasn’t really reading, let alone retaining any knowledge from the heavy textbook he was staring at.

Glancing at Hermione before focusing back on his friend, Ron leaned forward and shouted, “Hey, Harry!” right in the boy’s ear.

This seemed to finally have the desired effect. For with a little jump, Harry startled back to the present and blinked. “What? What did you guys say?” he hastily said, looking around at his friends.

Ron and Hermione both eyed their friend worriedly. Slowly setting down the book she‘d been reading, Hermione leveled a concerned look at him. “Harry, are you feeling alright?” she asked. “You haven’t been acting like yourself at all this past week. You’re always so quiet, and whenever we talk to you it’s like you have to come back from a million miles away to answer us. Is everything alright?”

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and heaved a sigh. “Yeah… I’m just a little bit tired’s all…” he said.

His friends however were not about to believe such a simple excuse. “Come on, mate. We know something else is wrong,” Ron said. Glancing around the rest of the crowded commons room, he leaned forward and cautiously whispered under his breath, “You haven’t been having more visions of You-Know-Who, have you?”

Harry sighed and ran a tired hand over his eyes under his glasses. He really didn‘t want to talk about this right now, but he knew his friends weren‘t going to leave him alone until he did. And he knew they weren‘t going to believe anything but the truth… “No…” he sighed. “At least not exactly, that is... But the last couple of mornings, I’ve been waking up with my scar hurting. I don’t know what to make of it, but it reminds me a lot about the summer before our Fourth Year when Voldemort was still trying to come back to power.”

Ron and Hermione’s expressions both turned grave. “Harry, why didn’t you tell us your scar was hurting?” Hermione asked, sounding a little bit hurt.

“I didn’t want you guys to worry about it…” Harry murmured.

“Have you told McGonagall or Dumbledore about this?” Hermione asked, looking worried.

Harry vehemently shook his head. “No. You’ve seen what happened the last couple of times I’ve tried to tell Dumbledore something’s wrong. He doesn’t want to believe me, or it always looks like I‘m making things up.”

“Yeah, but why not tell us?” Ron said.

Harry glanced at his two best friends and felt what little energy he’d been holding onto for the past few days begin to falter. He was so tired… Sleep was starting to become a precious commodity. Every night he went to bed wondering if this would be the night he’d have another vision - if he’d once again have to witness the torture and pain of another human being through Voldemort’s eyes. The last few nights he’d just laid there in bed staring at the ceiling, fearing the empty darkness of unconsciousness and what horrors might await him there. But even when exhaustion finally pulled him into slumber and he had no other visions, every morning he’d wake up with a dull throbbing in his scar, reminding him of his connection with the Dark Lord. It was becoming hard for him to focus on anything for very long, or find the energy to do much more than sit and let his mind drift.

Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself to meet his friends’ worried gaze. “I didn’t tell you guys about my scar hurting because I didn’t want to get you involved with something you can’t actually help me with.”

“Harry, you don’t have to deal with this on your own,” Hermione softly affirmed. “Even if we don’t know what’s going on with these visions of yours, that doesn’t mean we can’t at least be there for you. You never know how we might be able to help. And it’s not like we don’t believe you either… I mean, after Snape went missing that first day of classes, we never doubted you.”

“Speaking of ‘ol Dark and Scary, don’t you have some kind of lesson with him tonight?” Ron said.

Harry groaned and leaned his head back against the chair. “Yeah… My first Occlumency lesson’s with him tonight after dinner…”

“Tough break…” Ron muttered.

“Ronald,” Hermione scolded, then turned back to Harry. “Maybe Professor Snape can help you do something about your scar hurting,” she said.

Ron looked doubtful. “Are you sure that’s really such a good idea? I mean with You-Know-Who controlling Snape with some kind of Imperius Curse and all?”

Harry’s expression became dark at the mention of Hogwarts’ caustic Potions master. Over the last few days, he’d taken to watching Snape’s every move like a hawk. It’d become something like an obsession to him. Whenever at meals or in the Potions classroom, Harry would rarely let the other man out of his sight for more than a few minutes. But while Harry continued to watch Snape for any sign something wasn’t quite right with him, he never saw the man act any differently than how he always used to. At times it almost made Harry wonder if he wasn’t really looking for something that wasn’t really there, and there really wasn’t anything wrong with his Potions professor.

But that didn’t mean he was about to take any chances just yet…

“Ron’s right,” he said. “I can’t let Snape know I can still feel Voldemort besides just during these visions. If Voldemort ever found out, I don’t want to think about what he might do with that kind of information…”

“Still…” Hermione murmured, “you should probably tell Dumbledore about this…”

Harry leveled a steel-hard look at her. “No. This is something I have to do myself…”

Dinner was a tense affair that night. Harry barely even touched his food he was so nervous. While everyone else around him excitedly talked about what they were going to do that weekend, all Harry could think about was his looming Occlumency lesson with Snape.

A part of him dreaded the thought of being alone with his ill-tempered Potions master. What if Voldemort had somehow found out about his extra lessons with Snape and was planning to use Snape to attack him while there was no one else there to help him? Not to mention the fact that Snape had reverted to his old ways of constantly berating him every opportunity he got…

But at the same time, a small part of Harry was almost looking forward to talking to Snape with no one else there to interrupt. He had not missed the look in Snape’s eyes that first day of class when he’d been asked to stay behind. It was like he’d somehow gotten through the Imperius Curse and reached the man mentally enslaved behind it. That tiny spark of recognition in Snape’s eyes right before they’d turned cold again told Harry he couldn’t give up on saving Snape just yet. He had to at least try…

When the meal finally ended, Harry headed for the dungeons with a tight ball of mixed emotions roiling around his stomach like a pair of fighting dogs. He had absolutely no idea what to expect. Would Snape treat him like he always did, or would he maybe be able to reach him again? He could only hope it’d be the latter…

By the time Harry actually stood in front of Snape’s classroom, he’d managed to work himself into a right nervous state. For several minutes he didn’t move, even when he heard the clock chime seven o’clock somewhere high above him in the main part of castle. Well, this is it… he thought nervously, and knocked.

“Enter,” Harry heard a cold voice call through the door.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry slowly turned the handle and opened the door.

The Potions room was dark - as it was usually wont to be, even during the day - with only a few torches burning around the perimeter of the room. Looking towards the front of the empty classroom, Harry found Snape sitting at his desk hunched over a stack of essays, the soft scratching of his quill the only thing to break the tense silence of the room.

Without even looking up from his papers, Snape said, “You’re late.”

“But the clock just chimed seven a minute ago…” Harry replied.

“I know, and what did I tell you about being here at exactly seven o’clock?” Snape sneered, still not looking up from his grading. “Ten points from Gryffindor for tardiness.”

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something that might potentially get him more points deducted from Gryffindor, or worse. Well, it looked like Snape was still going to be playing the part of snarky bastard it seemed…

Determined not to let Snape get to him, Harry silently waited until Snape finally set aside his quill and looked up at him with a cold sneer in his eyes.

“Sit,” Snape commanded, pointing towards an uncomfortable looking chair in front of his desk. Harry did as he was told, and again waited for Snape to speak.

Snape steepled his fingers and scrutinized Harry over the tops of them for several minutes of unbroken silence, his dark black eyes boring into Harry like two tangible spears. Harry struggled not to squirm under the Potion master’s gaze but was finding it rather hard not to. From what little time he’d spent with Snape for those two days of the summer, he’d learned that Snape had an uncanny ability to make almost anyone squirm under his gaze.

“I assume Dumbledore has informed you what he expects you to learn from these lessons?” Snape finally said after what felt like an eternity to the young Gryffindor. “I would hate to think that I am wasting my time trying to teach you something you do not even comprehend…”

“Dumbledore wants you to teach me how to keep Voldemort from reading my mind,” Harry replied.

Snape’s face twisted into a disgusted sneer. “Occlumency is not what Muggles so ignorantly refer to as ‘mind-reading.’ The mind is not some kind of book a person can just pick up and page through at will. It is a multi-layered entity composed of complex thoughts, memories, and emotions. A person using Legilimens to look into another’s mind must shift through the storm of thoughts and memories to get a clear picture of what he or she wants to learn.”

Harry wasn’t sure what Snape’s real definition of Legilimens was, but it sure sounded a lot like mind reading to him.

Snape leveled coal-black eyes at his pupil over his fingertips and continued in a low voice, “Occlumency teaches a person to keep another from entering his or her mind by using methods that essentially cloud the intruder’s view of one’s true thoughts and emotions. Dumbledore has expressed his concerns that you might have some kind of connection to the Dark Lord through your scar. Thus, he wants you to learn how to shield yourself from the Dark Lord’s invasion.”

“But Dumbledore said he doesn’t think Voldemort-”

“Do not use the Dark Lord’s name in my presence!” Snape snapped, cutting Harry off so sharply, Harry actually choked on the last part of his sentence.

Sitting there for a moment, Harry stared at Snape, frightened by the intensity of the Potion master’s outburst, before he hesitantly said, “But Dumbledore always uses his name. He says fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”

Some unfamiliar emotion flashed through the Potion master’s eyes. “That is because Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards of this age, and is probably the only person the Dark Lord ever feared himself. Thus, Dumbledore has a right not to show fear in the face of the Dark Lord’s name. You and I, however - even though you are too arrogant and sure of yourself to acknowledge the Dark Lord’s true power - have no right to do so. It would be wise for you to realize that before it someday gets you or someone else around you killed.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment, not quite sure what to say in response. A small niggling of anger stirred his chest, but he forced himself to ignore it. He wasn’t going to let Snape’s familiar taunts and accusations get to him. Clearing his throat, he carefully rephrased what he had originally set out to say. “Dumbledore said he doesn’t think Vol-… the Dark Lord knows about our connection yet…”

Snape contemplated Harry for a moment. “I doubt that myself. If he knew of such a thing he would have almost assuredly tried to use it against you by now.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Snape walked to one of the many shelves lining the far side of the room and returned carrying a heavy stone bowl. Harry immediately recognized it as a Pensieve like the one he’d seen in Dumbledore’s office and looked into the previous year. It’s surface swirled like smoky water, or watery smoke. It was difficult to say which one exactly…

Snape carefully set the basin on the edge of his desk. Then pointing the tip of his wand to his left temple, he slowly extracted a long silver thread. The thought-strand dangled from the tip of his wand like a fine gossamer string as Snape carefully deposited it into the Pensieve‘s swirling silver surface. Harry watched in curious silence as Snape repeated this several times. Why would Snape need a Pensieve, he wondered.

Finally dropping one last thought-strand into the swirling grey mixture of the Pensieve, Snape turned back to Harry with his usual sneer in place. “If anyone asks you about these lessons, you are to tell them that you are taking Remedial Potions with me,” he said. “After your performance in class last Tuesday, I do not think anyone will doubt it…”

Harry felt his face flush, but forced himself not to fall for Snape’s bait. He wasn’t going to let the man get to him.

“Now stand up and face me,” Snape ordered.

Harry did.

“The first thing of Occlumency is to learn how to clear one’s mind,” Snape informed him as they faced each other from a distance of about ten feet. “Every night before bed, I want you to practice doing that. For now though, I want you to try and push me from your mind.”

“You’re going to look inside my mind?” Harry sputtered in horror. He hadn’t really been expecting this. There were a lot of memories, both from Hogwarts and when he‘d still been living with the Dursleys, that he’d rather have no one else ever knowing - least of all Snape…

Snape meanwhile gave him a nasty sneer. “Of course, Potter. How else did you expect to learn how to push someone from your mind unless you actually tried it? What did you expect? Me to give you some kind of written essay? Occlumency is not something that can be learned by just reading books - it is a learned physical skill. Now put your wand up,” he ordered, raising his own at Harry. “You may use any method you can to try and push me from your mind, but you are to focus on Occluding your mind and emptying it of all thoughts and emotions. Do you understand?”

Harry slowly nodded. The more Snape explained the art of Occlumency, the more nervous he became. Just how exactly did one push another from his mind, he fruitlessly wondered.

“I will be gentle this first time,” Snape said. “Now close your eyes and empty your mind of any thoughts and emotions.”

Harry very reluctantly complied. He didn’t like the thought of closing his eyes on Snape, especially when said Potions master was currently pointing his wand directly at him. He had also not forgotten the looming possibility that Snape was under orders from Voldemort to kill him at the first available opportunity. But then again, wouldn’t he have just done that the moment he walked through the door alone?

“Calm yourself and empty your mind,” he heard Snape’s say from beyond the darkness of his closed eyelids. “Let all your thoughts and feeling seep out from you. Focus on clearing your mind. Focus on calming your thoughts until there are none left there for you to clam.”

Harry took several deep breaths. He felt the tension slowly seep out of him just like his Potions master directed. Snape’s deep voice was calming and… somehow comforting to him, like how he remembered the man’s presence when he’d been a disembodied spirit several weeks before. For reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend, he knew he was safe.

“Are you ready?” he heard Snape’s voice again.

Harry nodded.

“Good. Now open your eyes and look at me. Occlumency and Legillimens depends partially on eye contact.”

Harry did so, green irises meeting black.

“Remember to keep your mind clear and emotions down,” Snape once more directed. “On the count of three. One - two - three - Legillimens.”

A flood of disjointed memories flew past Harry’s mind’s eye. Him as a young child being chased up a tree by Aunt Marge’s pit bull… Dudley and his gang of bullies chasing him through the school yard… A giant snake in a dark, subterranean cavern rearing back to strike… Voldemort’s resurrected, skeletal body rising from a cauldron of bubbling red liquid, his slit-like eyes glowing red…

Harry suddenly found himself back in Professor Snape’s classroom, kneeling on the floor though he didn‘t remember falling. He was breathing hard. Sweat was beading across his forehead.

“That was pathetic, Potter,” Snape’s voice ripped through his still jumbled thoughts. “You didn’t even try to push me out.”

Harry shakingly pulled himself back up onto his feet. He swayed slightly for a moment from the mental onslaught he just experienced. If that was Snape going through his memories gently, he didn’t want to know what it was like to have said Potion master going through them on an all out rampage...

“I thought I told you to clear your mind,” Snape snapped, glaring at Harry disapprovingly. “You let your emotions from the memories overwhelm you, making it impossible for you to focus on pushing me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry weakly apologized, though he really didn’t know why. Did getting Legillimized somehow jumble your thoughts?

“Try again!” Snape angrily barked. “And focus on clearing your mind this time like I told you! On the count of three. One - two -three - Legillimens!”

Once more a stream of disjointed thoughts ripped through Harry’s mind. A werewolf howling at the round, silvery disk of a full moon… A rat transforming into a short, pudgy man… He and a bushy haired girl his own age desperately trying to summon a Patronus as a swarm of ghostly black apparitions glided towards them… A man standing over his hurt Potions master as he was pulled away from them by some invisible force, knowing the man was going to kill his teacher…

Harry once more found himself on his knees breathing hard in front of the towering black figure of his Potions teacher. His temples throbbed, making his vision blur slightly around the edges.

“Just as pathetic an attempt as the first!” Snape barked. “Were you not paying attention to anything I just told you?”

“I’m trying!” Harry shot back as he pulled himself off the floor again.

Snape’s eyes flashed and he raised his wand at Harry again. “Once more!” he barked. “Wand up! One - two - three - Legillimens!”

For the next hour the routine repeated itself: some of Harry’s worst memories being brutally torn from his mind before he suddenly found himself back in Snape’s classroom with Snape towering over him and berating him for his inability to push him from his mind.

“Again, Potter! One - two - three - Legillimens!”

Him swimming through murky green water only to find himself suddenly face to face with an amphibious looking person with a three pronged spear in its webbed hand… Him standing before a tall mirror with a turban-wearing man demanding to know where Dumbledore had put the stone… Him following Dumbledore as the Headmaster bore his lifeless body away, unaware of the ghostly boy trailing behind him, frantically trying to get his attention…

“Potter, this is an utter waste of my time if you are not going to even make the attempt to push me out! Do you want the Dark Lord to be able to pry your mind open and see your most inner thoughts like this?”

Harry angrily shoved himself to his feet. His knees were staring to hurt from falling on them so much. His head was now throbbing painfully like he had a bad headache. The Potion master’s constant belittling was also starting to grate on his nerves though he struggled to keep his cool.

“Again, Potter! Should I even bother to remind you to clear your mind? Legillimens!” Snape didn’t even bother to count this time.

Again another string of unpleasant memories flooded Harry’s mind. A white, rotting mouth leaning towards him from underneath a tattered black hood…

No… He didn’t want to see this anymore…

An army of Deatheaters appearing out of nowhere while he sat there tied to a headstone… A werewolf…

No! He didn’t want to see this anymore!

A masked Deatheater coming towards him, his wand raised to incant the deadly Killing Curse…

No!

“NO!” Harry heard himself scream, and felt a wave of defensive power surge through him.

He suddenly found himself seeing more memories. But this time they were not his own.

A tall, ill-tempered looking man with a hooked nose yelling at a cowering woman while a tiny, dark-haired boy cried in the corner… The same boy, a little older, jealously watching a group of Gryffindor boys show off to a group of giggling girls… One of the dark-haired boys from Gryffindor calling him names as others laughed… A masked man coming towards him holding a shiny black stone shard that practically screamed of evil…

“POTTER!”

The irate yell startled Harry back to the present. He was somewhat surprised to find himself not kneeling on the ground this time. Ten feet away, Snape was glaring at him, his black eyes blazing as he visibly shook with rage.

“What do you think you were doing, Potter?” Snape savagely hissed.

“I- I’m sorry, Sir,” Harry lamely murmured, still shaken by some of the images he’d just seen. “I don’t know what happened…” It was then that Harry suddenly realized he must have somehow seen into Snape’s mind when he retaliated against the Potion master’s Legillimens.

Snape murderously glared at him. “We’re done for the night,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Get out.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, and hurried for the door. He knew when to make a hasty retreat when Snape was in such a volatile mood. You managed to keep more of your limbs and House points that way…

But as Harry rushed out the door, he glanced back one last time at his irate Potions master, the images of Snape’s memories still playing in his head. Though all of them were rather unsettling, Harry had not missed the last one which particularly intrigued him.

The one with the black stone shard…