After dinner Harry trudged towards the dungeons for his detention with Snape. He knocked at the door and waited for the bored "Enter" from within. At his cue, he opened the door and went inside. Snape did not look at him but lazily pointed to the workbench, where the cauldron and ingredients were waiting for him again. Without a word he stepped towards it and settled down, pulling the jar of scarab beetles towards him as he knew they were to be crushed first. Hm, apparently practice does make perfect he mused. He picked up his knife and was about to crush his first beetle when Snape's voice cut through the silence.
"I hear you have managed to perform a nonverbal spell today."
Harry was so shocked that he stared at Snape for a minute, mouth slightly opened. Since that first detention on Monday, Snape had barely spoken two words to him. And now he was, what? Attempting light conversation? Harry didn't know what to say so he opted for silence, hoping it was a fluke.
"Apparently, those lessons last year have given you some sense of mental control."
Harry bit his lip, preventing himself from retorting that nothing good had ever come from of those lessons. He gripped his knife tightly and continued crushing his beetle, imagining it was Snape's face.
"Or perhaps, this too was just another stroke of luck?"
Harry put his knife down hard in agitation and turned his head towards his teacher.
"What point are you trying to make?" he said looking straight at Snape's eyes. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.
Snape curled his lips. "You have already made the point, Potter. Nonverbal spells take a lot of mental control, something you have shown no proficiency at. Imagine my surprise therefore, when I heard it was you who was the first this year."
He looked down at Harry's fists, which were balled in an attempt to contain his anger, and sneered.
"Seeing you now, however, reinforces my belief that you have absolutely no skill, no talent whatsoever in the workings of the mind. Or controlling it."
"That's what happens when you have a lousy teacher," Harry spat.
Snape glided towards him, black eyes glinting in the torchlight. "Don't for a moment act as if you put even the slightest effort into our lessons, Potter. You were only interested in playing the hero, you didn't even want to end those expeditions into the Dark Lord's mind. They helped to nurture that overinflated ego of yours, to have access to information that you were not meant to have."
"Shut up!" Harry yelled as he stood up angrily. "If you were so against my accessing his mind, why didn't you teach me how to block it properly?"
"I cannot teach someone who does not wish to learn. And you didn't. That ignorance is to blame for your poor skills in Occlumency so stop fooling yourself into believing you are absolved of any responsibility in that regard. What would Black say if he could see you now?"
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Harry roared and he made a move to grab his wand from his sleeve. But Snape was quicker and had his own wand trained on him before he could whip his own in the greasy git's face. Harry looked from the tip of Snape's wand to his black eyes, ignoring the sudden prickling in his scar.
"Never," Snape said in a low growl, "draw your wand on me in anger."
Harry glared at those infuriating obsidian eyes.
Then his head split open and he crunched his face in pain. White-hot lava flowed through his head and he pressed his hands to his scar as hard as possible, but it didn't do anything to lessen the pain. He was on his knees somehow, though he could not remember how he had ended up there. He would have fallen flat-faced on the dungeon floor if it had not been for two firm hands on this shoulders, keeping him in place.
He bit his tongue to keep from screaming and could taste the metallic tang of blood. He looked back up into those black orbs and saw an emotion in them that he could not identify. His vision blurred and the image of his Potions Professor faded away and was replaced by the dark and gloomy room he had seen so many times before.
He ran his pale, slender fingers along the tear-streaked cheek of a dark-haired woman, in mock consolation. She struggled against invisible bonds and pleaded with him to let her go.
"Please, I don't know anything, I swear!"
He felt a cruel smile form on his lips as he circled the woman. Her demeanour disgusted him. How dare she beg him for her life, when she could not give him what he needed?
"I believe you, my dear," he said, stopping just behind her kneeled form. "Unfortunately, I hate being disappointed."
With a flick of his wrist he constricted her throat. Her chest heaved, desperately trying to get air into her lungs.
He walked lazily around to face her and smiled at her wide, fearful eyes staring up at him and her open mouth who worked hard to take in gulps of air. But it was to no avail. He lifted his hand and closed it around her throat, relishing in the powerful feeling of having complete control over life and death. He squeezed hard enough to leave a mark on her unblemished skin and then, merciful as he was, he ended her life.
Harry took big gulps of air as the dark room faded from his mind's eye. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the pain and images of the fading vision. His heart was trying to burst out of his chest and he panted harshly to keep up with it. He felt as if he was suffocating, as if no oxygen came with his gulping inhalation.
"Breathe, Potter," Snape's steady voice crossed through the haze.
Harry looked up desperately.
"I... can't..."
"Yes, you can."
Snape took one of Harry's hands in his own and put it against his chest. Any other moment, Harry would have been horrified to touch Snape in any way, but right now his panicked mind didn't care. He could feel the steady rhythm of Snape's heartbeat through his dark robes.
"Focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out."
Harry did and focused on the steady rise and fall of the professor's chest, slowly synchronizing with his own breathing.
"Good."
In Harry's peripheral vision he spotted Snape's wand on the stone floor as if it had been discarded the very instant his scar had flared up. Somehow that notion gave his heart a tender pull.
"You're okay now." It wasn't a question but Harry nodded anyway, partly to assure himself.
"Look at me," Snape said, his voice void of emotion. Harry did and for a moment they just stared at each other, lost in their own worlds of thought and emotion. It was like they shared a connection that could not be put into words.
A moment later, it was gone.
"What did you see?"
Harry blinked and shook his head, unwilling to repeat any of it.
"Answer me, Potter! What did you see?" Snape's voice became more heated.
Harry looked away, his face pulled in a grimace.
"Look at me!" Snape grabbed his chin and turned his head back to look him in the eyes. Immediately Harry felt the familiar but intrusive feeling of Snape's presence forcing its way into his mind. Panicked, he did the only thing he could think of. He physically shoved the man away from him, effectively breaking his connection to his mind.
"Get away from me!" he gasped and backed away himself.
Snape was caught off-balance and his back hit the desk. Though his face had been calm and collected during Harry's breakdown, a scowl was now firmly in place again. He stood up slowly and Harry did so as well with a weary look.
"How many of those have you had these past weeks?" Snape broke through the tense silence.
Harry shrugged and averted his eyes. "Not many."
"Do not lie to me, Potter," Snape said and threw him a disgusted look.
"I'm not lying," Harry defended, but he lacked conviction. "I've only had a couple of them each week."
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation.
"And how many of them contained images such as... this one?" he said through gritted teeth.
Harry stilled and cursed inwardly. He had not reacted quick enough and now Snape had seen exactly what was in his visions. He realised Snape was impatiently waiting for an answer so he quietly muttered, "all of them," and hung his head.
"I can't believe how incredibly stupid you are Potter," Snape said but his voice lacked heat. Instead he sounded worn out.
"I take it you haven't told anyone about these visions?"
Harry shook his head.
"I figured as much." Snape walked towards the fireplace. With a wave of his hand his wand was back in his palm and he started a fire with it. Then he grabbed a jar that contained a loose powder, turned back towards Harry and offered it to him.
"Dumbledore's office, I should think," he said.
Harry stared at the jar, feelings of weariness and fatigue warring within him. He wasn't sure he could face that office again. After all, last time he was there Dumbledore so much as gave him a death sentence, and it was the first place he went right after Sirius had been killed. He remembered the rage he had inside and how he had projected it outward by destroying everything he could lay his hands on.
"Come on, Potter," Snape said, seeing as Harry was not about to move without a nudge. "Don't you think it's been enough?"
Harry looked up at his professor and for a split-second that connection they had earlier was back. Determined, Harry nodded and took a handful of the floo powder in his hand. He stepped into the fireplace, stated his destination, and in a whirl of colours he vanished.
Harry stepped into the Headmaster's Office and was immediately hit with all kinds of feelings he had a hard time identifying. The floo flared again and Snape stepped out behind him.
"Harry, Severus, what a pleasant surprise to see you both here," Dumbledore said as he stood up and came around his desk to greet them.
"Not pleasant at all, headmaster," Snape said as he passed Harry and walked towards Dumbledore, dusting off his robes as he went.
"I see," Dumbledore mused. He conjured two chairs on the other side of his desk and sat down again looking at them appraisingly.
"Take a seat then."
As soon as Harry sat down Dumbledore pushed a bowl of candy at him.
"Lemon drop, Harry?"
Harry looked the old wizard in the eye and frowned slightly. From the corner of his eye he saw Snape roll his eyes in annoyance.
"No thank you, sir," he said with downcast eyes.
"Tell me why you are here," Dumbledore inquired looking back and forth between the two men before him.
"Well Potter?"
Harry turned his head towards Snape, who had an eyebrow raised and was looking at him expectantly. He had expected Snape would lead the conversation, seeing as it was he who had insisted on going to Dumbledore. Now that both wizard's eyes were on him, he felt a nervous chill ran down the back of his spine.
"Right, well...I, er... I have been having visions, sir," Harry stammered.
"Of what nature?"
"Of... er... Voldemort, sir." He saw Snape flinch at the name.
"And what transpires in those visions?"
Harry stared at the blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. Was Dumbledore seriously going to make him spell it out? He looked down and fidgeted with a loose thread that came from his right sleeve to give his sweaty hands something to focus on.
"Well... in these visions there's... you see... that is-" Harry faltered.
"The contents of these visions bear no repeating, headmaster," Snape stepped in. Harry glanced at him sideways and felt an unfamiliar wave of gratitude for the snarky professor.
Dumbledore turned towards Snape appraisingly. "You have seen them?"
"Briefly," Snape replied evenly and Harry's cheeks reddened as he remembered how he had shoved his teacher away hard.
"I see," Dumbledore muttered but did not offer any other thoughts on the matter and remained silent. Apparently Snape was just as impatient with the headmaster as he so often was with his students.
"Something needs to be done, this cannot continue any longer," he said brusquely.
"It is heartening to see you so concerned for the welfare of your student," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes.
"His welfare?" Snape snapped, "Have you forgotten that he takes NEWT Potions? Sleep deprivation and volatile substances don't mix well together. Not to mention the amount of damage he could do while practicing nonverbal magic in all his other classes."
Seeing as he wasn't part of the conversation anymore, Harry focused his attention on the ornate stand where a young Fawkes was ruffling his feathers.
"What do you propose we do then?"
"He obviously needs to learn to control his mind to prevent the Dark Lord from coming and going as he pleases. Lest he starts to meddle with the boy's sanity."
"How?"
"Clearly he needs to be taught Occlumency, possibly Legilimency as well."
"An excellent suggestion, Severus," Dumbledore said amiably.
"You know I don't mean he should be taught by myself," Snape replied darkly. "You know as much about the mental arts as I do. You teach him. You said yourself that it was a mistake to force me and Potter together last year."
"I remember. However, I do have a slight problem with your suggestion," Dumbledore said.
"And what would that be?" Snape gritted out.
"I have no intention of exposing my mind to the likes of Voldemort."
Again Snape flinched but recovered quickly.
"And my mind contains nothing of value, is that it?"
"I did not say that."
"You would risk my position as a spy for the Order? To teach a brat who doesn't even wish to learn?"
"I believe you are wrong on both points," Dumbledore said calmly, not even the slightest bit as agitated as the younger man before him.
Snape frowned and Harry glanced at him.
"Your role as a spy is vitally important, yes. But I do not believe it to be at risk if you were to teach Harry, as it was not at risk when you agreed to teach him last year."
Snape scoffed at the word 'agreed' but remained otherwise silent.
"And, likewise, I do not believe Harry does not wish to learn Occlumency. To the contrary, it has never been more clear how crucial it is to master it."
Something within Harry stirred at that and he furrowed his brows.
"That's all fine and well, but forgive me if I do not share your confidence in the boy's intentions."
"Will you two just stop talking as if I'm not here, for one second?" Harry finally blurted out.
Both men turned their heads toward him, Snape with a scowl and Dumbledore an approving twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Believe me, I know I need to master Occlumency. I need to be able to protect my mind, now more than ever." He glanced at Dumbledore, remembering that the old man had told him the contents of the Prophecy last time he sat in this office.
"That's very heartening, Potter," Snape offered sarcastically.
Harry ignored him.
"But if neither of you wants to teach me, I don't know what I can do to stop all of this. Without any help, my mind will be at his mercy."
"You're absolutely right, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, with a hint of sadness in his voice.
Snape uncrossed his arms and a dark smirk appeared on his face.
"Why don't we let Potter decide?"
Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Snape, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. Snape looked at him smugly.
"Let Potter decide whom he prefers as a teacher of the mental arts."
Both men looked at Harry expectantly and Harry felt an uneasiness creep up at his insides. One thing he had truly wanted for years was to have power over his own destiny and future. The ability to make decisions for himself for once. Now that he had it, it felt like a huge responsibility. He knew instantly what choice he was about to make and he almost couldn't believe the words he was about to utter. But he knew, without a doubt, that it was the right choice.
"Well, Potter?" Snape said, obviously impatient to get it over with.
"Harry?" Dumbledore coaxed gently.
Harry stilled a sigh and looked up to the older men with defiant determination.
"I want Professor Snape to teach me."
Harry took grim satisfaction at wiping the smug look off Snape's face.
"I beg your pardon?" Snape said in disbelief.
"I want you to teach me, Professor," Harry said while looking Snape directly in the eye.
Snape's expression went from disbelief to discontentment in mere seconds.
"And if I refuse?"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling with affection.
"Then I will have to ask the Headmaster to order you to."
Snape looked from Harry to Dumbledore and back, trying to decipher whether they were playing tricks on him.
For a rare moment, the Professor seemed at loss for words, but then he sputtered, "Why?"
This time Harry really did sigh. He suddenly felt drained from the day's events and found himself wishing he could just crawl into bed and sleep.
"I agree with Professor Dumbledore that the knowledge he possesses about the Order and the war are too much at risk of being exposed if he were to engage in a mental sparring with me. Besides," Harry glanced at Dumbledore briefly, "last year I couldn't even look him in the eye without Voldemort stirring up inside of me. I do not wish to experience that again, if I can help it."
A look of regret passed over Dumbledore's features but he gave Harry a small smile.
"And moreover," Harry continued, deciding this was the hardest part, "I want you to teach me because I know you will not coddle me or indulge me in any way. You will make this every bit as hard on me as you do with everything. And, though I'm loathe to say it, I think I need that. I need to experience the same harshness and the same hatred that I could expect from my enemies, or I will never learn to close my mind to them."
When he had finished, Snape sat staring at him with a furrowed brow but he did not come up with a reply.
Dumbledore broke the silence by clapping his hands and stood up with a smile that reached his twinkling eyes.
"Well, that's settled then," he said casually as if they had just decided on the colour of some new decorations for his office.
Harry stood and gave the Headmaster a curt nod. When he turned he caught Snape's eye. The man was glaring at him.
"Since you have been assigned a week of detention with me and the week's not over yet, your first lesson will begin tomorrow evening. The usual time. Do. Not. Be. Late." Snape said with such dark malice in his voice that Harry wondered if he had just signed his own death sentence. Then the dark wizard swept out of the office with billowing robes behind him.
Harry looked after him, already feeling the dread of having to step into the man's office again.
"I appreciate what you just did, Harry. It must not have been easy," Dumbledore said.
Harry turned towards the Headmaster, who had sat down behind his desk again and was looking at him appraisingly.
"It wasn't. Do you think I made the right choice, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling uncertain for the first time since he made his choice known.
"Only you can be the judge of that."
Harry frowned. That did not help to calm his whirling thoughts. Dumbledore seemed to sense this.
"I have once told you that it takes a strong person to make the right choice, instead of the easy choice and I feel it applies here as well. You chose unselfishly for a teacher that dislikes you, and has given you no reason to believe he has your best interests in mind while teaching you a vitally important skill. You have experienced it even last year. The fact that you chose to try again, knowing of the hardships that come with it, is a sign of true strength."
"What if it isn't the right choice? What if it goes wrong again?" Harry asked with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Will you teach me then?"
Dumbledore smiled at him in amusement. "I do not believe it will come to that. But, in the unlikely event that this expedition does not work out, you have my word that I will see to your education."
Harry nodded at him in appreciation.
"Sir, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Harry."
"We haven't had a chance to talk. You know... about er... the Prophecy and Voldemort and stuff." Harry stammered as anxiety settled in. "And I haven't had a chance to apologize for destroying your possessions."
Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "There is no need for apologies, Harry. I daresay I owe you more acknowledgment of my own offenses and failures."
Harry swallowed, having a hard time accepting that Dumbledore could wave his abhorrent behaviour away just like that.
"Could we, maybe talk sometime? About... well, everything really."
"Yes Harry. I feel we are long past due to have another conversation about the Prophecy and its implications. However, I must again ask for your patience and understanding. If we are to delve deeper into the war and your role in it, we must be absolutely sure that Voldemort has no means of discovering it. You must be able to close your mind off to him completely."
Harry nodded solemnly. "I understand, sir."
"Good. And if there is ever a time when you need advice, or just simply need to vent some emotions do not hesitate to stop by. My door is always open to you."
"Yes, thank you sir."
"Now, it is getting late and you only have ten minutes left before curfew. No doubt your bed is waiting for you."
"Goodnight, sir."
"Goodnight, Harry."
Harry exited the Headmaster's Office and mulled over the conversation on the way back to the dormitory. Dumbledore was right about him needing to master Occlumency before he could be privy to any of the Order's information. He swore to himself he would work his hardest on mastering control over his mind, and he would make Snape aid him in that mission if nothing else.
He wandered for a while with these thoughts before the creaking sound of an opening door brought him out of his reverie. He realised he had ended up on the third floor corridor and the door that had opened lead to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. To his surprise Kai-Enna stepped out of the classroom and closed the door behind her, a troubled expression on her face. She didn't see him at first but when Harry stepped forward into the light cast by a torch on the wall, she gasped in surprise.
"Harry!" she exclaimed and scrolls of parchment slipped out of her arms.
Harry quickly crouched down to help her gather them.
"Sorry," Kai-Enna began, "you surprised me."
"That's okay," Harry replied as he gave her the scrolls back and stood up straight. "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, er...," Kai-Enna stammered. "I was just dropping by Professor Braden. I had a question about the essay he's set us."
"Now? With only five minutes before curfew?" Harry asked with a frown.
"Yeah well, you know, I'm not that good at Defence and I'm kind of nervous I'll not do well on my exams. And I had to ask the Professor or I would not be able to sleep."
"Oh, that sucks," Harry blurted out. "You know, you could always ask Ginny and Luna to help you out. They're both great at Defence."
Kai-Enna widened her eyes. "Oh Harry, Ginny told me you taught Defence last year. You had some kind of club?"
Harry scratched the back of his head uneasily. "Yeah, but we were disbanded."
Kai-Enna's face fell. "Oh... But if I do have any questions, or I need to practice, would you be available to help?"
Harry was about to say that Ginny and Luna now both knew everything he taught last year and would be able to help her just as much as he would. But the pleading in her blue eyes, however, stopped him in his tracks.
"Er... yeah of course. I'd be happy to help," he said with a tiny hint of reluctance. Between his classes, being captain of the Quidditch team and his Occlumency lessons he hoped he still had some free time left.
Kai-Enna beamed at him. "Thanks Harry, that means a lot. I'll let you know then."
Harry nodded at her and an awkward silence ensued.
"So...," he said awkwardly. "I guess I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower. Curfew and all."
"Ah yes, of course. See you around."
Harry turned and tracked down the corridor. Just before he turned the corner he heard Kai-Enna call from the opposite site.
"Goodnight Harry!"
"Goodnight!" he called back and then she was out of sight.
He frowned at the strange encounter, but shrugged it off and hurried back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Chapter 12 Experience is the Best Teacher