9. Discoveries

The Fall season settled upon Hogwarts, bringing a chill to the air and shading the trees surrounding the castle in colors of amber and gold. The students had eased into a familiar routine of classes and homework, and the Quidditch season was about to get underway.

For Gryffindor, Harry's reinstatement to the team alone was cause for celebration; the inhabitants of the tower were filled with eager anticipation as the first match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin drew near. The pitch was in high demand; rarely was it seen without either full team workouts or individual athletes practicing high over its grassy surface.

It was Saturday morning, the last weekend in October. Ron had managed to get the morning slot and his team was now halfway into their three hour practice. Positioned all around the pitch, the Chasers and Beaters were executing drills and relays while high above them soared Harry. Anyone watching would have been impressed with his lighting speed and tricky maneuvers, but Harry knew that he was rusty. It had been a long time since he'd done any serious flying, not to mention having competed in only one, solitary game over the past two years. All the same, he was thrilled to be back on his broom and was determined to return to top form.

He already felt stronger, physically. In his first training period with Channon, the professor had suggested that Harry start jogging one lap around the lake, every morning before breakfast, claiming that it would help release his pent up stress. At first it had been a real struggle, dragging himself out of bed while all his dorm-mates snoozed away, but now he actually looked forward to these runs.

Additionally, Channon had began teaching Harry an ancient practice of tapping into nature’s energy, then drawing it in and moving it throughout the body. He was amazed the first time he had actually felt this energy and even though Harry was only just now familiarizing himself with this limitless natural energy, Channon knew that once this young, mighty wizard became proficient at combining nature's magic with that of his own, his powers would reach limitless bounds.

He would often join Harry on these runs, jogging out to the far end of the lake where they would go through the series of movements and then jog on back to the castle.  The physical release from the jogging combined with the settling benefits of those movements left him with a feeling of calm. Channon explained that this was the result of Harry “grounding” his own magic to that of the earths.  

The added boon from all this running was that Harry was getting really fit. This morning he'd been working on various maneuvers, practicing them over and over again as he tried to hone his technique. With less than one hour of practice time remaining, Harry decided to work on increasing his speed, but just as he leaned forward over his broom; his scar leveled a particularly painful stab which forced him to stop suddenly and slap a hand to his forehead. 

"You okay up there Harry?" asked Katie Bell.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he rasped. "It's just my stupid scar." Then he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, why can't he just leave me alone?" He’d barely finished the last word when his head started to ache suddenly. 

Determined not to let the pain end his practice prematurely, Harry leaned forward once more and took off across the pitch as he focused his attention on his speed and line of trajectory; he even tried implementing some of the techniques Channon had taught him. Immediately, the stinging and headache lessened and his speed increased phenomenally so that in a matter of seconds, he'd shot out past the boundaries of the pitch.

Amazed, Harry pulled up hard and turned around, but when he stopped focusing the burning sting and headache returned with a vengeance. 

"Oh no you don't," he gritted out.

Taking a deep breath, Harry headed back toward the pitch as he tried once again to concentrate on the natural energy around him, drawing it toward him and through him. Once again the pain subsided, and once again when he ceased his efforts — the pain returned.

Could this be the answer? he thought incredulously. This is so simple. 

Curious, Harry decided to try an experiment. He flew down to the ground and slid off his broom.  His headache by now had gotten so bad that he was on the verge of throwing up; but instead of succumbing to the pain, he focused all his concentration on all the natural energy surrounding him and mentally formed it into a shield around him.

Ron had seen Harry fly to the ground and then walk over to sit in the stand. Worried that something might be wrong, he flew down to join him. "You okay there, mate?"

Harry raised his hand, silently asking Ron to give him a moment. Maintaining this shield was requiring every bit of effort he could muster.  Shortly, the attack ended and Harry leaned back to rest against the bleacher behind him. His breaths were coming in pants as he stared out across the pitch with a look of amazement. "I don't believe it."

"Don’t believe what?  What are you on about?" Ron was really starting to worry. "Are you sure you're all right?" 

Stunned and amazed over his accomplishment, Harry turned to his old friend.  "I did it, Ron!  I finally did it!"

"Did what?" Ron was baffled. "What are you talking about?"

Harry jumped to his feet and then onto his broom. "I've got to go and tell him.”

But Ron lunged and grabbed the end of Harry’s broom before he could take off. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!”   

~~~~~

With Ron finally appeased, Harry flew up to the castle and reached the potions lab just as two second years were emerging out the door from an apparent detention. Slipping past the teary eyed youths, he quietly entered the room and saw Snape seated at his desk with his forehead resting upon the splayed fingertips of his outstretched hand.

"Merlin give me strength," Harry heard Snape mutter and he wondered dejectedly if this reaction played out after each of his Occlumency lessons.

They'd met half a dozen times since that first meeting when Snape had laid his cards on the table and asked for a truce. But despite the new methodology, Harry continued to struggle with Occlumency, its principle of barricading one's mind always seemed beyond his grasp. Much to his relief however, Snape had been surprisingly patient and had yet to insult him. Granted, the man was always sarcastic but Harry was beginning to appreciate the dry sense of humor.    

Snape lowered his hand, and then deftly hid his surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry, standing in front of him clad in full Quidditch garb. Raising one brow, he slowly eyed the young wizard up and down. "The Quidditch pitch is outside the castle, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled at the snip comment and his eyes all but sparkled with excitement over his news. "I did it, Sir." 

The little furrow between Severus's brows arrived on cue. "Did what, exactly?"

Despite a valiant effort, his response came out a bit shaky. "Occlumency." 

A few moments of silence followed Harry’s declaration, and then with a flick of his wand Severus slammed the door closed and erected a silencing ward. "Explain," he demanded. 

Harry told Snape all about the events that had taken place during practice. Then he explained how Professor Jackson had been teaching him about natural energy and that he had tried to visualize it into a shield to protect him from Voldemort's attack. "I know it sounds crazy, but it worked." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders.

Severus rose from his seat and crossed the room to where Harry stood, his robes swishing with every step. "You claim that instead of closing your mind, you called upon nature’s energy to form a shield around you?"

"I don't know if that's exactly what happened, but that's how it felt ... Sir."

The look Harry received from Snape was difficult to describe, but he was certain the professor was about to hex him. 

"Prepare yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"I wish to see for myself."

"Here?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Of course here. Why not here?"

"But there's no grass, or trees, or anything like that down here."

Up went the eyebrows. "Your method only works outside?"

"Uh, I don't know, Sir." He felt like a fool and thought he might be blushing. "I suppose I could give it a try."

Severus released a long, drawn out sigh then again gave the order for Harry to prepare himself.

"Wait!” Harry quickly put up his hand. “Just give me a second to get ready."

Although Harry's impertinence annoyed Severus to no end, he was beginning to find this foible just the tiniest bit endearing. He waited in silence, watching as Harry closed his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them. 

"Okay, I'm ready." Harry was staring straight ahead, trying as hard as he could to visualize the natural energy surrounding him.

Severus raised his wand. "Legilimens." His incantation was delivered gently and he used great care in trying to penetrate the young man's mind. Surprisingly, Harry was able to maintain his shield, marking the first time he'd accomplished this feat.

Severus ceased his efforts and lowered his wand. "Well done, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes grew wide as saucers. "I did it?"

Snape nodded his head slightly.

"I can't believe it. I did it! I really did it!"

 "I wouldn't rest my laurels just yet, Mr. Potter," he said cooly.

"What do you mean?"

“My endeavor was executed with minimal effort. We shall try it again only this time, I will use greater force.”

"Oh." Harry felt dejected. "Let me just get ready."

Snape began tapping his wand upon the palm of his hand as he waited for Harry. After receiving the go-ahead, he once again raised his wand and uttered the incantation.

Harry could feel Snape trying to get in; he focused as hard as he could, trying to maintain the shield. Once again his shield held; it was keeping Snape at bay. If he could just maintain it —  hang on for just a bit longer.

But then all of a sudden, Uncle Vernon was shouting at him, he started falling down the stairs, his aunt was screaming, then his head exploded with pain. 

~~~~~

"Harry?" Someone was tapping his cheek. "Wake up."

Harry opened his eyes and squinted at the sight that greeted him. Sitting directly in front of him was Snape with what appeared to be a look of concern on his face.

"What happened?" But before Snape could even reply, Harry remembered exactly what had happened and he dropped his head into the palm of his hand, mortified. "Oh God."

"Drink this, it will help."

Now it seemed as if Snape was touching his shoulder and he could smell something kind of woody and sweet. "What is it?" He asked with a raspy voice.

"Ginkgo tea infused with Jasmine."

Harry took a small sip and then leaned his head back against the chair.

“Take another sip.”

He tried sitting up a little straighter and took another sip. After a few moments and a few sips of the tea Harry was able to think more clearly. "I guess my shield didn't work after all."

Deciding Harry could now manage to hold onto the cup by himself, Severus handed it to him and then moved over to sit in the opposite chair.

When Harry had collapsed, Severus levitated the unconscious teen into his side room and placed him in one of the large upholstered chairs. Now, sitting across from him, Severus studied Harry from over the top of his peaked fingers as he took a few moments to gather his thoughts. 

"Your shield does not emanate from your surroundings. The barrier I encountered was generated from within you."

Harry was holding his cup with both hands, keeping it near to his face; it seemed as though even the aroma from the tea was helping to clear his mind. He'd noticed that Snape was calling him “Harry” but right now, he just couldn't seem to muster much of a reaction. Then, what Snape had just said finally registered in his foggy brain. “From inside me? How can that be? I've never been able to do that."

"Perhaps you have and didn't realize it as such. But you must understand, with true Occlumency the mind is protected from intrusion by means of focused thought. What you did was to create a barrier, a shield if you will, around your mind."

"You mean like a Shield Charm?"

"You did not cast a charm." Severus paused and thought about what it was he experienced. "I encountered a..." He took one hand and held it up flat in front of him, "... an actual force of some sort."  He lowered his hand. "You mentioned implementing a technique Professor Jackson taught you."

"Yeah, it’s some sort of ancient Oriental practice."

Dismissing the vague description, Severus reasoned what the correlation might be. "I will speak with Professor Jackson this evening regarding the matter." He noticed that Harry was sitting there, staring at him. “Keep drinking the tea.”

"Yes, sir," and he downed a few more sips of the tea.

Snape sat quietly pondering this phenomena while on the other hand, Harry started to think about what Snape had seen when he broke through the shield: his uncle — purple faced and full of rage, Harry being pushed down the stairs, his aunt screaming at the top of her lungs.

Now the tea didn't seem quite as soothing and in fact, the memories were making him feel downright nauseous. "Sir, I'm sorry you saw all of that."

Harry's words and tone of voice drew Severus from his musings. The young wizard was staring into the fire with his hand cupped over his mouth and chin. No doubt he was embarrassed at having his dirty laundry aired before his professor.

Severus thought about a similar event that had occurred in his youth.  He never allowed himself to reflect upon those troubling times, but the crushing look of embarrassment and shame on Harry's face drew this memory to the forefront of his mind. They sat watching the fire, lost in their own reflections of regret. Then in a soft voice, Severus uttered a beautiful lilting string of words. 

"L'ho provato sulla mia pella." *

Harry turned his gaze from the soft orange glow of the flames to the ebony eyes of his professor. Snape was looking straight at him; yet at the same time, he seemed to be looking far away and his typical hard set expression had been replaced by a look of sadness.

"What did you say, Professor?"

Harry's query pulled Severus from his melancholy. "Did you ask a question?"

"Sir, you said something ... but it was in some other language. I didn't understand what the words meant."

Snape nodded slightly and folded his arms across his chest, as if shielding his heart. "The words are Italian. They mean: “I have experienced that on my own skin."       

Harry didn't know if it was the fact that he still felt dazed or that Snape was calling him “Harry,” or maybe it was the tea, but nothing seemed to be making any sense. "I'm sorry sir, I still don't understand." 

Snape gave the smallest of chuckles but then he stopped suddenly and his face sagged with a gloomy expression. "It's a metaphor," he spoke in a downcast voice. "It means that I have also been scarred in this way and I know exactly what you're going through."  

~~~~~ 

It was now late in the afternoon. The Quidditch practices had finished for the day and the area around the pitch was blessedly quiet.

Harry had decided to walk back to the changing rooms rather than fly, feeling that he just needed some time to think. His thoughts kept whirling around what Snape had said, “I have also been scarred in this way.”

What did he mean by that? Harry wondered.  Had Snape's parents been abusive? Maybe that explains why he's the way he is. I wonder if he was beaten, like me. Could I turn out like him, angry at everything and everyone?

Harry shook his head at the prospect and paused by the large beech tree next to the building that housed the changing rooms. He stood there a few moments just staring at the grass. He opened up to me. Snape told me something personal about himself. He even called me Harry.

Baffled over this unbelievable event, Harry slowly resumed walking toward the small building and recalled how Snape had stood up abruptly moments after divulging this secret, stated that he needed to attend to another matter and then shooed Harry out of the room.

Completely absorbed in his thoughts, Harry went to grab a hold of the door knob but before he could open it, the door flung open and smacked him in the face, shoving his glasses hard into the bridge of his nose. 

"Ouch!"

"Merlin Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was there."

"Well, you shouldn't go flinging doors open like that." Harry didn't even know who he was talking to, as he'd removed his spectacles and was cupping his sore nose with his hand, his eyes squinted shut. "Damn it, I hate it when that happens."

"Here, let me take a look."

"It's fine."

"But you're bleeding."

Harry pulled his hand away and even though everything was a blur, he could see blood on his hand. "Oh great."

"Come on, let me take a look."

Lifting his head, he froze when he realized who this person was — Anthony Goldstein. Inches taller than Harry, Anthony had bent over to get a good look at the cut; their faces were now only inches apart.

"I think I could fix that."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, just hold still."  Raising his wand, he incanted "Episky," then tried to survey his handiwork. "I can't see anything for all this blood." He cast another charm to siphon off the blood and was now able to see where the cut had been. "That looks good; how does it feel?"

Harry gingerly touched the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, thanks." He went to put his glasses on only to discover that they were now bent. "God damn it."

"What?"

Exasperated, he pulled off the bent glasses. "It's a Muggle saying," he huffed. "Now what am I going to do?"

"Come on, you get changed and I'll fix your glasses; they’re just bent a little here in the middle."  Anthony led the nearsighted teen into the locker room and went about trying to repair the spectacles as Harry got changed out of his Quidditch robes. He’d only just pulled on his jeans when Anthony handed him the glasses.

"Give them a try now."

Harry put on his newly repaired spectacles and looked about the room, "I think you did it."

"Good," sighed Anthony. "Look, I'm really sorry." He watched as Harry pulled on a T- shirt and then sat down next to him.

"It was just as much my fault. I was thinking about some stuff and not paying attention to where I was going." He sighed and stared off across the empty room.   

"Something wrong?"

Chuckling, "When isn't something wrong."

Anthony placed a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Harry didn't know what surprised him more, Anthony's hand on his shoulder or the fact that it felt kind of nice. "I can't." 

Withdrawing his hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." 

"I didn't mean it like that." Harry turned to face Anthony; the movement inadvertently caused his knee to push against the outside of Anthony's thigh. "I really wish I could ... you know, talk about it, but I can't."  Feeling awkward about what his knee was touching, he moved back his leg but then Anthony turned, so that now his knee was pressing against Harry's thigh.

"Well, if you ever do need someone to talk to, I'm ... available."

Harry sat staring at the Quidditch gear laden cubicles in front of him with that word 'available' ringing in his ears.

So much had happened in such a short period of time. The feeling of Anthony's knee pressing against him was unsettling, yet at the same time it felt reassuring. “Thanks Anthony," he answered softly.  Once again Harry's mind was whirling. In addition to all that had happened on the pitch that morning, then the Occlumency fiasco, Snape being nice to him and even sharing something that was obviously personal and private, calling him 'Harry' no less and now this encounter with Anthony —  Well, it was all a bit much to take in. 

"Come on, Harry.  It's time for dinner and you look like you could use a good meal."

The two teens strolled slowly back up to the castle. Harry shared a little bit about what he had learned from Jackson and how the Professor was helping him get a handle on his episodes of wild magic. They chatted about classes and the upcoming Quidditch matches. Talking to Anthony was so different from talking to Ron or Hermione, or any of his other friends. He'd never really spent time with Anthony but had often noticed him from a distance.

Anthony Goldstein reminded Harry of Cedric: tall, good looking, popular and he excelled in all his classes. Harry couldn't understand why someone like that would want to spend time with him. But he did know that as he walked next to him, Harry felt — something. Maybe it had to do with all that aura business Channon was always talking about and he wondered if one person's aura could connect with another person's aura. He'd ask Channon about it the next morning during their jog.

As they walked along, Anthony could sense Harry's preoccupation so he intentionally kept the conversation light. Truth was, ever since he'd acknowledged and had come to terms with his sexual preferences, he'd had an eye for this dark haired, green eyed wizard. So unlike himself, Harry had this spirited, dauntless quality and despite his impressive magical powers, there was a vulnerable side to him that Anthony found endearing. He'd wondered about Harry, never seeing him with any girlfriends except for that brief awkward fling with Cho. So with the serendipity of this afternoon's run in, Anthony had decided to test the waters and was optimistic by the outcome. Not sure where Harry was with his own self discovery, Anthony thought it best to take things slow.

"You know Harry; I was going to do some studying in the library tomorrow. Want to join me?"

Tomorrow being Sunday, Harry had planned to camp on the floor of the Gryffindor common room and try to plow through his mountain of homework. The prospect of Anthony and a quiet library sounded infinitely more appealing. "Sure. I have a ton of homework. What time do you want to get together?"

"How about just after breakfast?"

"Okay, sounds good." Harry wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt a bit giddy. They stopped just before reaching the doors to the Great Hall, out of sight to all those already inside eating dinner. Not sure how to handle things, Harry tentatively looked up toward those hazel eyes. 

Anthony smiled, "You go in first. I'll wait here a minute, then go in."

It had been so nice being near Anthony; Harry found he really didn't want to leave his side. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow." Then he turned and slipped into the hall.  

Anthony watched Harry disappear around the corner; then he smiled and whispered, "Bye, Harry."  

~~~~~