It was dark by the time Harry emerged from the attic, and the house was quiet as he padded down the hallway toward his room. He’d skipped dinner but nobody had come looking for him. They had other things to be worrying about than him, he knew, and he was grateful that nobody else had been there to witness him sobbing like a baby. Now that his tears were spent, he felt lighter somehow. Not better exactly: he still felt the heavy weight of worry and fear. But he couldn’t muster up the burning anger that had simmered beneath the surface all day. In its place was a heavy cloud of exhaustion.

The uncertainty of Ron’s fate had been difficult to hear, but as Harry had lain crying, he’d felt a bit of hope shine through the cracks of his worry. It was somehow easier to know that the adults were baffled rather than to think that they knew for sure Ron was dying and had been keeping it from Harry. If they didn’t know what curse had hit Ron, then there was still a chance it wouldn’t be lethal. There was still a chance they’d figure out how to save him. Harry clung to that hope like a lifeline.

And it wasn’t lost on him that he wouldn’t have that hope if not for Snape.

Harry groaned miserably. He knew he’d acted like a prat to Snape. The man had given him more honesty and information than the whole of the rest of the Order, and he’d thrown it back in his face with a childish tantrum. Although he would never understand Snape’s insistence on not using Voldemort’s name, Harry wasn’t actually angry about it. More like…exasperated. He didn’t understand the man’s resistance. But angry? No. Harry had been angry at Remus for treating him like a child, angry at Dumbledore for probably directing the Order to keep him in the dark, angry at every other adult in the house for brushing him aside as if he were delicate, as if he couldn’t handle it, as if he hadn’t already dealt with life and death on more than one occasion…

Oddly enough, Snape was about the only adult that Harry wasn’t angry with, even after the man had slapped him.

He rubbed his cheek at the memory, though the sting had long since faded. He wondered if he was nutters for not being even a little bit put out. It wasn’t exactly the done thing for professors to hit their students. Still…he’d probably deserved it. He’d known better than to provoke the man so thoroughly. He might even have been hysterical, as Snape had pointed out. If anything, the whole thing had been Harry’s fault.

He stopped outside his bedroom door and ran a weary hand through his messy hair. Just when he and Snape had begun to make progress, started to get past some of their hang-ups and maybe even started to build a tiny bit of trust between them, Harry’d had to go and mess it all up. He leaned his head against the coolness of the door frame for a full minute, then quietly opened the door. The twins were there and asleep, the sound of soft snores echoing through the room from a newly transfigured bunk bed. He tiptoed to his bed, pulled the covers over his head, and after far too long, fell into a restless sleep.

Breakfast the next morning was a solemn affair. Mrs. Weasley, despite everyone’s attempts to persuade her to rest, had created a lavish feast. Only, it was far more lavish than the setting or the situation required, which only served to remind everyone of the fact that things weren’t, in fact, normal.

Snape was nowhere in sight, but Harry and the rest of the Weasleys were joined by Remus and Tonks, for which Harry was grateful. It helped to have some non-Weasleys at the dinner table so that Harry didn’t feel like an intruder to their grief. Tonks especially was good at lightening the mood…though not always on purpose, Harry reflected as her arm bumped suddenly into Remus, causing a forkful of egg casserole to projectile from his hands and cling to the ceiling. Harry ducked from his place next to Remus, narrowly avoiding a bit of cheese that fell to land on the floor between them.

“Oops.” Tonks eyed the offending bit of food on the ceiling as pieces of egg dropped onto Remus’ head. “Scourgify. Sorry,” she muttered, though her apology was somewhat ruined by her stifled laugh at Remus’ expense. She had cleaned the ceiling, but his hair was now completely mussed and sticking out on one side where he’d wiped off the egg.

Ginny giggled and the twins even managed to grin. A glance at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, however, showed that they hadn’t noticed a thing through their distracted eating, and the table quickly turned somber once more.

Harry took the opportunity to study Ginny for a few minutes. Snape had said she’d been burned, but he couldn’t see any evidence of injury. She wasn’t acting injured, at least not physically, and he decided with relief that she really was all right.

“So, Harry,” Remus said quietly as soon as Tonks began awkwardly thanking Mrs. Weasley for the delicious meal. “How are your studies coming along?”

Harry stopped chewing for a moment and looked up at Remus. Homework? He couldn’t help the rude thought that Ron was upstairs fighting for his life and Remus wanted to know how Harry’s homework was coming along? Just as quickly as he thought it, he pushed the resentment aside and swallowed his food. Remus was doing his best to deal with the situation, he knew that. They all were. Harry took a deep breath before he answered, intent on not losing control of his emotions again.

“S’alright, I guess,” he answered, matching Remus’ quiet tone. Ginny and Tonks had started chatting in falsely-happy tones about the latest all-witch band to hit the wizarding music charts, with George - or maybe Fred - halfheartedly interrupting to complain about their tastes in music. If anything, the false happiness in the room intensified the atmosphere of grief. Remus watched him, obviously expecting more of an answer, so he went on, “I’ve got my Defense and Transfiguration work done. Still have Herbology and Charms. I’ll get to it though.”

Remus nodded and smiled. “I’m certain you will. And Potions? Has Professor Snape been any help to you in your assignments for his class?”

“Uh…” Harry looked down at his food and stirred it around with his fork, but he was saved from answering by Dumbledore striding through the door of the kitchen.

All conversation about music and homework stopped as everyone said their hellos to the headmaster. He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the room until he’d greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and asked how they were faring “in this difficult time.” It was a rhetorical question, everyone knew, but Harry could see that both appreciated it nonetheless. His greeting to the room at large was brief, and then his eyes set on Harry.

Harry felt like squirming, but he didn’t. He didn’t look away either. Merlin only knew what the headmaster needed, but he wouldn’t be here unless it was something important.

“Harry,” Dumbledore addressed him quietly, his eyes gentle, “Might I please have a word?”

Harry nodded, silently following the older wizard out of the kitchen. Once in the drawing room, they sat across from each other and Dumbledore immediately offered Harry a piece of candy.

“No thanks,” he said politely, waiting as patiently as he could to find out why he’d been pulled aside.

“I would ask how you are faring this morning, but we are all of us faced with trying circumstances just now, aren’t we?” Dumbledore placed several pieces of candy on the table in front of Harry anyway and sat back, sadness in his eyes.

Harry looked away and shrugged, but then he remembered what he really needed to know. “Can you tell me where Hermione’s at, sir? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley say she’s fine, but they don’t seem to know anything more…”

Dumbledore gave him a reassuring smile. “Miss Granger and her parents are well, Harry. They are under Order protection at the moment. No doubt you will be able to see her soon.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The Weasleys had been distracted every time he’d tried to broach the subject, but he could tell that the headmaster was telling the truth. He sank back into his seat.

“And I assure you, Harry, we are doing everything that we can for young Mr. Weasley. If there is an answer to be had, we will find it.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “I know, sir. Thank you.”

“I, in fact, discussed the matter quite at length with Professor Snape this morning,” Dumbledore said casually as he unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it into his mouth.

“Y-you did?” Harry looked up at that to find Dumbledore’s watchful eyes on him. He couldn’t stop his hands from fidgeting, so he shoved them under his legs.

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. “He had several ideas about what may have caused Mr. Weasley’s condition, and as we speak, he is working on several potions that, when administered to Mr. Weasley, may help us to narrow down what ails him.”

Harry let out a small breath and even halfway smiled. Hearing that they weren’t going to give up was one thing. Knowing that they already had ideas and were actively working on them was far better.

“So that’s…that’s good, right?” he asked hopefully. “How soon until he’ll know if any of them worked?”

“The first will be done this afternoon. The longest brew may not be complete for several weeks. However,” he said at Harry’s alarmed look, “several brews will be complete between now and then, and we are also working on gaining information through other avenues.”

“What other avenues?” He asked immediately.

“Avenues that at present will remain known only to members of the Order,” Dumbledore said gently but added, “I only wanted you to be reassured that we are, in fact, working on it.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you, sir,” he said finally, and he meant it. “It helps.”

Dumbledore gave him an understanding smile, then his face became solemn. “Professor Snape and I discussed a few other things this morning, Harry.”

Harry stiffened and braced himself for a lecture. Snape had told Dumbledore all about how Harry had lost his temper, he just knew it.

“I feel that I owe you an apology,” Dumbledore took a deep breath and let it out again. “Another apology, we’ll say. They do seem to be adding up, don’t they?”

“An apology?” Harry asked with a frown. “What for?”

“I seem to have made a habit of putting you in the care of those with whom you cannot feel perfectly safe. I thought it a necessary evil when I placed you with your relatives…but I had placed my utmost trust in Professor Snape’s ability to overcome his animosity toward you in order to provide you with safety and protection. I can’t tell you how much I regret that he could not do that, Harry.”

Harry was taken aback at the sadness in Dumbledore’s eyes. He was also confused. Was this about Snape slapping him? He thought it must be, because he couldn’t think of anything else it could be about. But it wasn’t that big of a deal, really. Not enough for Dumbledore to be this upset about it.

Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for a reply. Harry cleared his throat. “What…um, what exactly did Professor Snape tell you, sir?”

“He told me that he lost his temper and that he struck you.” The headmaster’s face showed a weariness that Harry had only seen a few times. “Harry…I know that it may mean little to you, as much as you have been harmed by the adults in your life, but I must tell you how very…regretful Professor Snape is that he hurt you.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. Snape? Regretful? He was positive Snape hadn’t planned on hitting him, but he wasn’t sure he could picture him regretting it.

“I think you should know…” Dumbledore paused to conjure up two glasses of pumpkin juice. He pushed one toward Harry and took a sip from his own. “Professor Snape admitted to me that he has seen a different side of you this summer.”

“I’m the same as I’ve always been,” Harry pointed out automatically.

“Yes.” The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched up. “You may be adept at keeping secrets, but you have never been one to hide your true character and personality from the world. It is a compliment,” he added at Harry’s narrowed eyes. “While I do wish I had known more particulars about your home life before now, your character has always been one of honesty, fairness, and bravery. I believe that Professor Snape is beginning to see you as I have already long known you to be.”

“Only because he knows about the Dursleys.” Harry couldn’t keep a touch of bitterness from his voice. “He thinks I’m…abused,” he said as if the word offended him - which he supposed it did. He didn’t see himself that way, and he hated that anyone else might have a right to. “Now that he knows about my summers, he’s just replacing one view of me with another. Last month, I was a spoiled, arrogant bully. This month, I’m a poor pathetic weakling. What’ll it be next month?” He shut his mouth, having said more than he’d intended to say. He hadn’t realized until just then how much this idea bothered him. It wasn’t as if he needed Snape to like him, but they had been more civil lately…and Harry had been starting to appreciate that. Was it ending as abruptly as it began, in part because Snape decided to get yet another false idea in his head about Harry?

“Harry,” Dumbledore said softly and waited until Harry looked up. “I know this past year has not been easy for you. I am not so obtuse as to think that Professor Snape had nothing to do with that.” His eyes shone with regret. “I also know that you would rather that he hadn’t stumbled onto certain parts of your life these past few weeks. You have borne the pain and humiliation of recent events tremendously well. All the same, if I could have spared you from it, I would have.”

Harry blinked quickly and looked away for a moment. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of such guilt in Dumbledore’s eyes very many times, and he wasn’t keen on reliving it.

“I have received multiple updates from Professor Snape during your time here, Harry. Our conversations are confidential, of course, but you must allow me to say this… Professor Snape definitely does not see you as weak or pathetic. And he is not one to believe that people are defined only by past abuses committed against them. His recent glimpse into your life has caused him to reevaluate some of his assumptions of you. To be open to forming new conclusions. That is all.”

Harry released a slow breath. That didn’t sound so bad.

“Which is why I had hoped that you two would finally learn to work together,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I am so very sorry that my hope resulted in your pain. Professor Snape will be moving out of Grimmauld Place as soon as he has completed today’s potions work, and-”

“What?” Harry was too surprised to feel bad about interrupting. “Moving? Why? Doesn’t he need to stay at headquarters?”

“There are other safe houses he can move into for the time being. He understands that my priority right now is your protection.”

“My protection…from him?” Harry asked, wide-eyed. He felt a sudden wave of guilt that by pushing Snape too far, he’d lost the man Dumbledore’s trust. There was a lot he still didn’t know about Snape, but he’d gathered that Dumbledore’s trust meant an awful lot to him. “It was just a little slap, professor. He didn’t try to murder me or anything.”

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. “You have received far too many slaps in your life, Harry. I would not have you to think that they are normal or acceptable.”

“Did he tell you what I said? Last night. How I was…well, I was taunting him? He didn’t just up and lose it on me for no reason, you know,” he felt the need to point out.

“There is never an excuse for physical abuse of a student, of any child, Harry. Professor Snape knows my stance on that, and he has taken full responsibility for the incident.”

The incident. That sounded so…severe. “What does that mean exactly?” Harry asked slowly, frowning. “Is he in trouble over it?”

“The specific consequences will remain between me and Professor Snape,” Dumbledore said firmly. “But for now, he will no longer be responsible for you this summer. Now that the Weasleys have arrived, you will have plenty of supervision. They are, of course, distracted by recent events, but I expect that you are old enough to keep up on your schoolwork and Occlumency reading without prompting.”

Harry heard the mild warning in those words and decided he wasn’t going to test them by being lazy in the coming weeks. But homework wasn’t foremost on his mind right then. The word consequences was reverberating through his mind. Snape wasn’t going to be fired, was he? Or put on some sort of probation? And would he be as safe from Voldemort somewhere else as he would be at headquarters? Not that Harry would usually have been upset over any of those questions, but this time he felt responsible. He realized that he hadn’t thought too much about the events of last night. Snape had, apparently. Maybe Harry should have too. He hadn’t seen it as a big deal - Snape’s side of it, anyway. Was he crazy to have pardoned Snape so quickly? Was he really just some poor abused kid who couldn’t spot the difference between normal and messed up adult behavior?

Maybe he was. He didn’t even know for sure anymore. But he had good instincts, that he did know. And his instincts were urging him to trust Snape. Maybe not trust him, trust him, like not completely…but to trust him in this. Despite their animosity, and despite Snape’s obvious bias against him all these years, Snape had helped him and protected him more than once this summer. And Other Harry had even urged him to trust Snape. One slap, a reaction that Harry thought he might have even deserved, didn’t change that. Not in Harry’s mind, at least.

Dumbledore was watching him, letting him speak when he was ready. His words were halting as he tried to figure out how to put his thoughts into words.

“Professor, I don’t… I mean, I think you ought to hear my side of what happened too, don’t you? I mean, before you decide to punish Professor Snape.”

The headmaster studied him for a moment. “By all means, my boy. If you wish to confide in me, I have no other wish than to hear you out.”

“Well…” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t really know how to start. He finally settled on, “I was really frustrated all day, you see? With Ron being…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I was upset. And nobody would tell me what was going on, what was wrong with him, where Hermione was, or anything. I was just tired of getting the runaround all day, and I just felt myself getting angrier and angrier.” He looked down in embarrassment.

“Far worthier men than you or I have felt such emotions, Harry,” Dumbledore reassured him. “It was a natural reaction to the day’s toll.”

Harry gave a jerky nod. “I went to Professor Snape because I figured he might give me the answers nobody else would. He’s done that before, you know. He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile or like I can’t handle the truth. I guess…I guess I’ve come to appreciate that,” Harry admitted. He looked up through his fringe. Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile.

“He answered my questions. Well, I guess you know that, since you talked to him. Anyway, there we were, just talking, and I started going off on him for being a bully in class. And then I mentioned Voldemort, and he wanted me to call him the Dark Lord, like he always does, and it wasn’t even that big of a deal in the moment, I suppose, but I just felt all of that frustration and anger from the rest of the day boiling up…and I yelled Voldemort’s name at him over and over, and I should have known better, and that’s why he got angry at me. So it wasn’t really his fault, you see? I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. “Your tendency toward compassion never ceases to impress me, Harry. Thank you for telling me the truth of events, and I am glad that you understand how disrespectful your actions were. However,” he paused until Harry looked him in the eye. “I stand by what I said earlier. There is never a good reason for a professor to physically accost a student. I hope that you know that.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry murmured. He did know that. And he also knew that Snape had done far, far worse to him over the years in the classroom and got away with it. He really was the worst sort of bully, belittling him and taking unfair points and smashing his potions assignment. But for some reason, all he could think about was the forthcoming Snape of the last few days, and of the second prophecy, and how Other Harry was sure that Harry needed Snape if he was going to survive what was to come.

“Good,” Dumbledore nodded. “Now then, I’ll speak with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about your homework arrangements. Like I said, you’ll be expected to keep yourself on track-”

“What about second chances?” Harry asked abruptly.

“Pardon?”

“I know some things just aren’t done, and you’re the headmaster, you can’t turn a blind eye to things that your professors do, but don’t you think sometimes people should be given a second chance?” Harry spared a thought for how surreal it was that he was trying to argue Snape’s case.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened. “You really do have a good heart, my boy.”

That wasn’t an answer, but it also wasn’t a refusal, so Harry charged on. “I know a thing or two about being hit by a grown-up, sir,” he said and managed not to blush or look away. Dumbledore already knew enough about his childhood. No sense shying away from it now. “I’ve also felt my fair share of fear around Professor Snape. But last night…last night I didn’t feel afraid of Snape - er, Professor Snape - not even after he hit me, and definitely not like I do sometimes with Uncle Vernon. See, Vernon gets some sick pleasure from hurting me. It’s his way of feeling bigger and better than me, I think. But Professor Snape…well, yeah, he can be an awful bully sometimes…but last night, I…I think Voldemort’s name triggered something in him that didn’t have anything to do with me. It was like he was desperate to stop it, and he reacted without thinking. I don’t know what his problem is with using Voldemort’s name, and I don’t understand why he was so desperate, but…I really don’t think he meant to hurt me, only to protect himself in some weird, twisted way. He certainly didn’t look like he was glad he’d done it.” He took a deep breath and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. “I don’t think he should be written off for this sir. I think you ought to give him another chance, just like you’re giving me another chance after I was a prat to him.”

Dumbledore said nothing for a few moments, only studied him with assessing eyes. When he finally spoke, it was to ask, “If I were to do as you ask, Harry, you do realize that you would still be subject to Professor Snape’s authority for the remainder of the summer. Given recent events, are you truly comfortable with that?”

Harry couldn’t help a smirk, which he quickly wiped from his face. All last term, he would have done anything not to have lessons with Snape, and Dumbledore certainly hadn’t cared about whether Harry was comfortable or not back then. Now all of a sudden he cared? Although…he supposed that it actually sort of spoke to how much Dumbledore had trusted Snape, that he hadn’t actually thought Snape would physically lash out at Harry until after he did. Or maybe Dumbledore was treading more carefully these days after knowing about the Dursleys. Yes, that was almost certainly it. All this overreacting about a little slap had more to do with the fact that both professors now knew about Harry’s life with the Dursleys than about anything else.

Whatever the reason, Harry answered, “Yes, sir. I mean, I think so. Besides, my vision self seems to think it’s important that I figure out how to work with him, right? I don’t see how I’m going to do that if he’s miles away in some unplottable safe house.”

Dumbledore continued studying him until he finally nodded and slowly smiled, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“All right, Harry. If that is how you truly feel about the situation, then a second chance it will be.”

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“I’ll speak with Professor Snape now and inform him that he can stop packing his lab. Would you like to accompany me?”

Harry quickly shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Snape to think he had done him some sort of favor with Dumbledore, or even worse, that he was trying to lord it over him.

Dumbledore smiled and stood. He reached out to pat Harry’s shoulder before he left.

The kitchen was considerably louder when he returned. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were nowhere in sight, but Fred was balancing atop a chair and gesturing wildly while Tonks, George, and Ginny shouted out random words.

“Ship!”

“Dragon!”

“Ooh, Hungarian Horntail!”

“No, too big. Hippogriff!”

“Griffin!” Ginny shouted so loudly that Remus jumped from where he was sitting at the end of the table, immersed in a book.

“Got it in nine!” said Fred with a grin. He hopped off the chair and gestured for Ginny to take his place.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks waved. “Join us for a game of Wizard Charades?”

“Thanks…maybe I’ll watch for a bit?” He moved to sit beside Remus, who smiled up at him.

“How is Professor Dumbledore this morning?” Remus asked.

“Fine. He just…wanted to talk to me about some stuff,” Harry said vaguely, his eyes on Ginny’s interpretation of what looked oddly like a chicken doing the hula. “He’s with Professor Snape now.”

“Ah. I didn’t get the chance to ask you how Professor Snape is doing these days?”

Harry shot him a quick glance, wondering if Dumbledore had talked to him about what had happened, but Remus’s expression was politely neutral.

“He’s…all right, I guess. He helped me clear my mind the other night,” he volunteered. “I think it worked, too.”

“Harry, that’s wonderful.” Remus reached out to pat his hand. “You are making progress. It is also nice to see that you are getting along these days.”

Harry shrugged, suddenly worried about whether they actually were. Well, they had been getting along better lately. Tolerating each other, at least. Now, Harry was wondering if they’d blown any chance of staying on that path. He may have forgiven Snape for his part in the debacle, but Snape wasn’t exactly known for being the forgiving sort. What if he didn’t even regret their argument, just had told Dumbledore about it first to control the source? He’d surely be angry at Harry for acting so childishly the night before, and he’d probably be even more angry at Harry for intervening with Dumbledore on his behalf. Snape wouldn’t appreciate being beholden to Harry, of all people. He’d absolutely despised being beholden to James.

And then Harry had a thought. What if Snape had wanted to leave Grimmauld Place? He’d been stuck here with Harry for over a week. What if he’d been thrilled to find a reason to move that Dumbledore couldn’t say no to, even if it came at the expense of his trust? Would he want to be away from Harry so badly?

Harry’s stomach started to churn, and he all of a sudden wished that he’d thought more about the consequences before so impulsively asking Dumbledore to allow Snape to stay.

“And he is helping you with Potions as well?” Remus prodded, taking up their earlier interrupted conversation.

Harry shrugged, not wanting to admit that his grades hadn’t been good enough to get into the class.

“I’m sure he’d be willing to help if you asked, Harry. Or I could talk to him if you’d like.”

“No,” Harry rushed to answer. “Er, no thanks. It’s fine, Remus. I’ve got homework covered.”

“Are you sure? I can look it over if you -”

“I’m fine, Remus,” he insisted. “Really. I’m doing a little bit each day.”

“Alright, Harry,” Remus said softly. “I’m glad to hear it. Just let me know if you run into any trouble. I don’t want you falling behind.”

Harry felt his hackles rise. He knew he shouldn’t have been irritated. Remus meant well. But what did homework or school matter at a time like this? Ron could be dying! Because of Harry! And even if homework were his most pressing concern, what business was it of Remus’s to check up on him? He wasn’t his dad or his godfather or even somebody who’d been in his life in any significant way since he’d left his Hogwarts teaching post. He’d all but disappeared from his life over the past two years, as a matter of fact.

He stopped his train of thought right there and took a deep breath. He was stressed out and worried and frustrated, and he didn’t want to lose control like he had last night with Snape. Remus didn’t deserve that, no matter what resentment Harry felt bubbling up inside him. He didn’t even know how much of that resentment was a direct result of all the stress and anxiety over Ron.

“I’m going upstairs for a while.” He stood abruptly, eager to escape Remus as well as the kitchen, with its false cheer. He didn’t wait for Remus to say anything, just slipped out the kitchen door and up to his empty room.

He flopped onto his bed, threw his fist into a pillow, and lay there for several minutes before rolling onto his back. But the quiet only served to compound his heightened emotions. Between being worried about Snape’s reaction to staying, worried about lashing out at anyone else, worried about Ron’s condition, and worried about who Voldemort would strike out at next, his chest felt compressed, like every breath was an effort. He let out a breath of irritation as some of the emotions he’d fought in Snape’s lab returned in full force. He needed to do something! He needed to do something to help Ron, to fight Voldemort, to…

Yet, as soon as those thoughts ran through his mind, a rush of shame washed over him. He knew he needed to do something…but…he wasn’t doing the one thing he’d been assigned to do, was he? Here he was, frustrated by not being allowed to help in the war effort by the adults, but not once bothering to actually apply himself to learning Occlumency.

Harry felt ashamed as Snape’s words of the other day came back to him: I see a teenager who has never learned the fine art of applying himself to occupations which may not entirely engage him.

For once, he agreed with the scathing assessment from Snape about his lack of drive.

Abruptly, he stood and reached for the book he’d left abandoned on the floor: Guarding the Mind: A Beginner’s Guide to Occlumency. He brought it back to his bed, leaned against the headboard, and, furrowing his brow, determined that barring an attack on headquarters, he wouldn’t leave this room until he’d learned the fine art of applying himself to reading, understanding, and practicing all he could learn from this book. No wandering mind, no distractions, and no stopping except to eat and sleep.

Ron needed him, and failure was not an option.

Taking a moment to clear his mind of everything else, he opened the book to chapter four and began to read with a determination that would have made even Hermione proud.