The following afternoon found the trio of friends playing Gobstones in the parlour. Not normally a game Harry particularly enjoyed but one on which Ron had insisted on finding an old set in the bottom of his school trunk. After rather a lot of nagging by the boys, Hermione had joined in with the game. Harry and Ron had been surprised with her eventual acquiescence but had grinned, almost maliciously, with her huffed “Very well, then.”
They now had cause to regret the invitation as they were both covered in enough slimy goo to indicate repeated losses at the game. Hermione was dry and goo-free. And ready for another round.
“Oh Harry, go on. I really didn’t expect to like it at all, but, well, it’s quite fun really, isn’t it?”
An exasperated expression was just about visible through the thick gloop covering Harry’s face. Ron, who was faring equally badly, seemed to be thoroughly bemused by their best friend’s long run of luck in the game.
“They’re just Percy’s old, bog standard set. I know no one has mucked around with them, Merlin knows how long they’ve been sitting in mildewed pants in my trunk! And anyway, no one could, each set is always produced with a ton of spells to prevent bewitching or cursing or anything!”
“Really, Ron. Are you actually accusing me of cheating?”
“‘Course not ‘Mione. But, well, come on, five games in a row? It’s just not right that you’re squeaky clean.” That thought seemed to presage action as it was closely followed by a gooey hand reaching across the table to smear its discoloured juices along Hermione’s shirt sleeve. With no more than a glance between Harry and Ron, Operation Get Hermione began in earnest as the boys crossed the table to make a grab at her. The boys’ laughter was punctuated by Hermione’s struggles and shrieks which were being ignored in favour of coating her face, hair and clothes in the foul gunk.
In retrospect, Harry thought, there could not have been a more embarrassing time for Snape to walk in. No doubt the professor had some kind of sensor to alert him to these situations. As it was, with Harry and Ron each holding one of Hermione’s arms and daubing her face with their free hands, the three were far too busy to notice his dark presence in the doorway until he spoke.
“Gratifying as it is to see your maturity manifesting itself, I should like to speak to Mr Potter in the library.” He sneered at Harry, who had quickly let go of Hermione’s arm. “I shall give you five minutes to make yourself presentable.” The black presence swung away to the left and down the corridor.
“Bugger!” Harry’s exclamation and Ron’s flushed cheeks and murderous look were countered by Hermione’s tittering.
“Oh, god! I can’t believe… of all the people…” Harry’s own anger was tempered by concern at Hermione’s seeming hysteria. Seeing his expression, Hermione attempted to pull herself together, taking a breath.
“No, no, I’m fine, really” she said, wiping away the tears but only making the mess worse. Finally, she had visibly gathered herself together and had her wand in front of her. With another steadying breath (through her mouth) she incanted a cleaning spell at Harry.
A rather mournful “Thanks” was accompanied by a large sigh.
“Well, suppose I’d better face the music then.” Grateful for the optimistic support in Hermione’s eyes and Ron’s wavering smile, Harry left the parlour straightening out his clothing. Reaching the library door, he sighed deeply again, knocked and went in after hearing the curt “Come in”.
The library was not a small room but its bulging bookshelves and dark panelling give it a cramped and oppressive feeling. In the corner nearest the door there was a reading table of polished oak and several sturdy chairs. The remainder of the walls, along with three half-walls, were covered in bookshelves upon which there was little free space. Snape was standing against the far wall, facing the door as Harry entered. He was expressionless as he nodded at Harry to take a seat at the table. Not liking the way Snape made him feel small and powerless, Harry nevertheless sat down.
“The Headmaster has spoken to you.” It was not quite a question.
“Yes, sir. He said that we had to start Occlumency again.” Harry managed to keep his voice steady but could not help but feel a sliver of real fear. He had never felt truly afraid of the professor before but the images from the other night would not stop playing through his mind. It was almost as if he could see the darkness rolling off the man.
“Indeed. Do you understand why?” Snape’s expression indicated his doubts.
“Yeah. It’s important for me to protect my mind,” Harry did not react to the sneer that said ‘what mind?’ all too clearly, “and that I would learn better from you because he uses a different kind of magic which wouldn’t help me in this situation.”
“Hmph. If you bother to learn at all,” Snape folded his arms. “Tell me about your vision earlier this week.”
Harry did not know how to react to that demand. Snape knew what had happened! He was not going to describe how he had seen the man kneel before Voldemort. He was certainly not going to mention the little detail that it actually felt as if Snape had knelt before him! Harry settled for telling Snape exactly what he had told Sirius and Dumbledore, leaving out any mention of Voldemort’s memories and feelings. Snape did not react to anything he said until Harry had finished.
“I don’t believe you are telling me everything, Potter,” said Snape taking two long strides to lean menacingly on the chair on the other side of the table, glaring at Harry. “However,” he started again, but in a softer tone, “that is the beauty of our lessons, hmm, would you not agree, Mr Potter?”
Harry’s mouth went dry. The implication was clear. Snape would find out everything, not just about the latest vision but about every aspect of Harry’s life. He already knew more than most about his private thoughts and now he was threatening to go further. Nothing in his mind would be sacred; Snape would tear through, sneering with disgust at everything he held dear and then mocking him for his mistakes and embarrassments.
Harry’s temper exploded. He jumped up, his body taut from rage.
“No! You can’t just use them as an excuse to go through my mind. I won’t let you. Dumbledore won’t let you.” Snape’s anger was instant. The man stepped forward, his face jutting over the table separating them and into Harry’s personal space. Although the man’s temper had not yet snapped like last year in his office, Harry, through his own furious haze, could see that it was close.
“You will not speak to me like that. And you will sit down.” Snape’s raised voice and finger jabbing at the chair punctuated Harry’s stream of anger.
“Now.” He added quietly but firmly when Harry made no sign of moving.
Even knowing it was ridiculous, that Snape could never hurt Harry inside this old house and get away with it, Harry’s subconscious was already deciding for him that the professor’s thunderous expression and dark robes looked more suited to a fanatical Death Eater than a school teacher. He sat down.
Harry’s unexpected compliance appeared to dissipate Snape’s anger, though his bad mood was still apparent.
“So. I am here to tell you –”
Snape’s lecture was interrupted by Sirius flinging open the library door.
“What’s going on in here, Snape?” he demanded.
“A private discussion, Black,” said Snape, looking at Sirius with derision. “You may leave now.”
“It’s not a discussion when there’s shouting involved,” said Sirius. Turning away from Snape, his expression softened to ask, “Are you alright, Harry?”
Before the falsely reassuring words were out of Harry’s mouth, Snape was answering for him. He had also, Harry realised, discreetly slipped his wand down his sleeve into his hand.
“He is perfectly well, as you can plainly see. This is a discussion between a Hogwarts professor and his student. There is no place for you here.” Snape had not shifted his gaze from Sirius at all.
“I think not, Snivellus,” said Sirius, causing Harry to wince and shrink further into his chair. Snape’s glower did not abate in the slightest. “As I understand it this is meant to be about Harry’s Occlumency lessons. So that makes it between a supposed Order member and my godson.” Sirius folded his arms, “I’m staying.”
“I’m fine Sirius, really,” said Harry, trying to defuse the situation.
“No. I’m your godfather and I’m not going to stand for Snape over there shouting at you when you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Harry felt out of his depth. Sirius did not have his wand in hand yet but he was standing in a stance that radiated aggression. It was hardly his place to mediate between the two grown men, who were each trying to repel the other with their own sheer physicality. He was pretty sure that he could saunter out the room with neither of them noticing. Just as the tension was reaching the point where a curse was inevitable, relief came in the form of Remus.
“Knock, knock,” he said, matching action to the words on the open door, “everything alright in here?” Remus moved up behind Harry and put his arm on Harry’s shoulder, smiling as if he could not sense the strained atmosphere.
Snape emitted a small growl before saying, “I was about to explain, before this mongrel blighted us with his presence, the details of resuming Potter’s Occlumency lessons.”
Remus’ hand had given a friendly squeeze to Harry’s shoulder before making a timely appearance on Sirius’ back, forestalling whatever impolitic thing he was going to say.
“Well, that’s constructive. I think it would be good for us all to know what is expected of him, yes, Harry?” asked Remus.
“Umm, yeah, I suppose so.”
Snape seemed to have decided to ignore his boyhood nemeses in favour of glaring darkly at Harry.
“Firstly, and most importantly, you will treat me and my possessions with respect.” Harry just nodded. That was a blindingly obvious given, for simple self-preservation if not out of actual respect. The ‘Pensieve Incident’, as Harry taken to calling it, was not something he was keen to repeat.
“You will come prepared to every lesson. That means,” Snape snidely clarified, “doing all the assignments I give you, no matter if that means missing out on superfluous activities, such as quidditch, or less time to bask in the glow of your celebrity.” Harry wondered if Remus was squeezing Sirius’ arm as hard as he was Harry’s and if he was as riled up as both he and his godfather were.
“You will come to my office at eight o’clock on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. You will be punctual.” Harry was aghast. Three times a week! The sessions once a week last year had been strenuous enough, leaving him with pounding headaches and in a terrible mood, how ever was he going to manage it every other day of the week?
“You will not be surprised to learn that I am not greatly looking forward to these meetings either. However, since everyone,” and that word was filled with bitterness, “appears to believe them necessary you will make the effort to actually learn something this time.
“Finally, you will once again say that you are taking remedial lessons in my subject.” A small smirk graced Snape’s final pronouncement.
“But sir, surely no one will believe that,” exclaimed Harry, “I won’t even be taking Potions this year, so why would I need remedial lessons?” His OWL grade was still a sore point for Harry as he had done rather better than he had expected. On the one hand it meant he no longer had classes with Snape, on the other if Snape had been as reasonable as the other professors he would be in the class and still in with a hope of becoming an Auror.
“You need not worry about that Mr Potter. I can guarantee you that I will still have the misfortune of having you in my classes.” The glimmer in Snape’s eye was bordering on evil so Harry was unsure of how to take his words.
“Right, well, that’s good news, isn’t it Harry?” cajoled Remus.
“Yeah, yeah, it is,” said Harry bemusedly.
“So now you’ve said your piece, feel free to go back to whatever rat-hole you call home,” said Sirius.
“Only the one rat in residence but perhaps that is preferable to a canine infestation,” declared Snape glaring at both Remus and Sirius as he left, robes billowing predictably.
“Sirius, don’t,” Remus pleaded, grabbing Sirius’ arm, as his friend made to follow, “he’s just not worth –”
A tirade of filth was heard from the hallway along with the front door slamming. Remus sighed as Sirius ran to calm his agitated mother. Harry was still trying to work out how he could have got into NEWT Potions.