Silver Spoon Child Eating off a Paper Plate by MellarkandArt

“Harry, Harry,” someone was screaming in his ear whilst a hand gripped his arm, shaking him. Harry gasped in air, shooting up from the floor while his hand flew to his forehead, the lightning bolt scar throbbing painfully underneath his fingers.

“Oh, Harry, thank goodness,” came Hermione’s frantic voice, her worried face coming into his line of vision. “Ron’s went to get Sirius, you just collapsed on the floor-”

Harry tuned out her voice, focusing instead on the Monopoly pieces scattered across the floor. He must have knocked them about when he’d fallen, or perhaps the others had done so while trying to wake him up.

If he had been asleep, that was. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, though it had certainly happened before. It was just like it had been outside the ministry, though perhaps a bit more abrupt. He wasn’t dreaming, though. It had been a vision. This time of Aunt Petunia.

“Harry,” came Sirius’ voice, and Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath as his hand came down to push his fringe away, trying to move his own hand. Harry pulled his head back, refusing to relent his hold, fearing it may be the only thing keeping it from splitting apart.

“Remus has gone to alert Dumbledore. Are you alright? Are you feeling sick? Is there anything I can get for you?”

Harry shook his head, closing his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t think that he would spew out his guts this time. The scene he’d witnessed wasn’t nearly as grotesque as the one with Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia was still alive at the end of it, after all.

“What happened, Harry?” Hermione asked, kneeling beside him. “Was- was it another vision?”

“I think so,” said Harry. “I don’t know.”

“It’s alright, don’t strain yourself,” Sirius said, trying again to pry Harry’s fingers away. “Dumbledore will be here soon.”

“Stop it,” Harry insisted, using one of his hands to push his godfather away.

“Come on, Harry, I need to see it!”

“No, you don’t,” Harry said, trying to steady his breath even as panic approached him in strong waves. “It’s just bleeding.”

“That sounds like something that needs to be taken care of!”

Harry shook his head as much as he dared. “It’s fine.”

“Did you see something, Harry?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry looked over at her, and saw Ron and Dudley hovering behind her. He swallowed thickly. “Sort of…”

“Well, what was it?” Ron asked.

“I think we should wait till Dumbledore gets here,” Sirius said, and Harry was grateful for his interference. He finally lowered his hand from his forehead, grimacing at the red coating his fingers. Aunt Petunia’s skin had looked much the same…

“Merlin, Harry,” Sirius murmured, conjuring a damp cloth to wipe his stained hand. He looked in his eyes, frowning. “May I touch your forehead now?”

Harry nodded sheepishly, cheeks turning as crimson as the cloth Sirius used to dab around his scar. His head still hurt something fierce, but Sirius’ gentle treatment of the inflamed area made it feel just a tad better.

The floo flared and Dumbledore’s voice came out practically before his body. “My apologies for the delay,” he said, coming to kneel beside Harry, who thought he had arrived rather quickly. How much time had Harry lost? “Are you quite alright, my boy?”

Harry nodded as the floo flared twice more and Remus came out followed by Snape. Sirius stiffened at the sight of the latter, his gentle grip on Harry tightening considerably causing him to pull away and fully face the headmaster.

“I had another vision, I think,” he said. “I don’t know how long it was, but it was just as vivid.”

“Can you describe it to me?” Dumbledore asked with some level of urgency. Harry glanced at Dudley, biting his lip.

“The sooner we can decipher your vision the sooner we can make decisions on what to do about it,” Dumbledore encouraged gently.

Harry relented. “It was Aunt Petunia. It seemed to be the same place, or similar. The snake wasn’t there, but… some Death Eaters, I think. She… They didn’t kill her, but…”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “I understand. The order will discuss this. In the meantime…” he shared a look with Snape. “I believe it is time to do something about these visions of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Occlumency,” provided Snape. “It is the art of protecting one's mind against outside intrusion. If mastered, you should be able to prevent these visions from happening.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Harry. “Aren’t these visions a good thing? Otherwise, you wouldn’t even know about this stuff.”

“The information you’ve provided us with is indeed very beneficial,” Dumbledore agreed. “But it is not to be valued at the expense of your health and safety. If Voldemort were to find out, or worse, as I already suspect, know about this connection between the two of you, he could use it for detrimental things. I believe he is already attempting to harm you by showing you these particular visions. This is a very unique connection that you share and while it is unknown just how far it can go, it would be wise to put a stop to it before he can go any further.”

What the headmaster was saying made sense, but it still seemed wrong that Harry could have this information at the tip of his fingers and just ignore it. The trepidation must have shown on his face as Dumbledore offered him a small but serious smile. “Please, Harry. I want you to promise me you will try this for me. I promise you that it is for the best.”

Harry nodded, though reluctantly. “Will you be teaching me, then?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “I am not well suited for the task. I thought that Professor Snape would be a better option, and he’s agreed to teach you if you have no objections?”

Harry frowned, but Sirius spoke before he could think of what to say to that. “Absolutely not. Is Snape not involved enough in Harry’s life as it is? The kid needs a break, and I’ll be damned if he’s the one to be riffling through my godson’s mind!”

“The choice is hardly up to you, Black. Though if it were, it would be between me helping the boy to prevent further incidents like this, or would you rather he spend his Sunday afternoons with blood on his hands?” Snape sneered, gesturing toward Harry’s stained fingers.

“Knowing you, he’d be lucky to escape without so much as a nosebleed!”

“That’s enough,” Dumbledore scolded. “The choice is ultimately up to Harry, though I do feel the need to insist. The learning of Occlumency may just be fundamental to the outcome of this war.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed warily. “Whatever you think is best, I’ll do, Professor.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Dumbledore said sincerely. “I will leave the details up to you and Professor Snape to discuss, I’m afraid I must be going now as I still have other duties to return to. I will be in touch, we will schedule an order meeting soon…”

“Wait,” Dudley spoke up. “I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to do anything about my mother?”

Dumbledore looked at him gravely. “I’m afraid that there’s nothing we can do, Mr, Dursley. We don’t know her location, and even if we did, it does not do well to move rashly.”

“But you heard Harry! She’s in the same place as my dad was, and he’s dead! God only knows what they’ve been doing to her!”

“Dudley-”

“Harry, Harry, please,” Dudley turned to face him now and begged. Literally, truly, begged. He was on his knees, staring up at Harry in desperation and he hated it, hated it, hated it-

“She’s my mother,” his cousin continued, “I know she’s been awful to you, I know, but- but it’s my mum.”

“Dudley, I- I-”

“You can’t let her die, you just can’t!”

“Mr. Dursley,” Snape interjected at last. “Your determination is understandable, but it’s both unbecoming and unfounded. Guilting your cousin into this won’t make it happen. Even if he could somehow assist in helping your mother, I would not permit him to do so.”

“But why not!?” Dudley demanded.

“Because Mr. Potter is a child, and I act as his guardian. It is not his right nor his responsibility to run headfirst into danger any longer.”

“You’re his what?” demanded several people, but none as loudly as Sirius.

“On that note, I really must go now,” Dumbledore said smoothly, heading over to the fireplace. Harry stared at his back, dumbfounded as the man winked at him before disappearing into the green flames.

The universe really hated him, huh?

***

“Occlumency,” Snape stated, pacing around the room in his usual teacher pose, “is the art of blocking one’s mind against intrusion.”

“Yeah, you already said that,” Harry said, gazing at him tiredly. He was exhausted and his head was still pounding from the vision, not to mention the absolute screaming match at Grimmauld Place that had preceded Dumbledore’s departure.

“I’m aware that I’ve already said it, but did you hear it?”

“Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have known you’d already said it, now would I?” Harry replied snappishly.

“Repeat it back to me, then.”

“O- O- lunacy, is about blocking your mind against someone trying to read it or something.”

“It is one thing to hear what is being said, it is another to understand it. Do you understand the meaning of Occlumency?”

Harry sighed. “It’s about blocking out crazy people trying to send you visions, isn't it?”

“Not precisely, seeing as you are the only known person to have directly received visions from an outside force such as the Dark Lord. It should, in theory, help with that, though that is not the main objective.”

“Okay,” Harry said, way past the point of caring. “Same difference, isn’t it?”

Snape stared at him for a moment before moving abruptly, causing Harry to flinch slightly, grateful that the man’s back was turned so that he did not see it. He went over to his bookshelves and returned with something that might as well have been Hagrid’s Monster Book of Monsters, dumping it on the table in front of Harry.

“I want you to read this.”

Harry looked down at the intimidating tome, hard-to-read letters spelling out OCCLUMENCY. A BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO THE MIND ARTS. He frowned. “You’re not serious?”

“Thank Merlin, I am not your godfather.”

Harry just stared at him, not quite knowing how to respond to a joke from Snape. “I can’t read this.”

“You did attend primary school, did you not? I was under the impression that you were capable of reading to a reasonable extent.”

“Of course, I can read, but I-”

“Then there’s no reason why you can not read this, it is in English.”

Harry huffed, turning his head away and closing his eyes against the throbbing pain in his skull. “My head hurts.”

“You could have mentioned that,” Snape said. Harry could hear the sounds of him shuffling around before he was handed a glass vial.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. “A fast-acting poison. Drink.”

Harry didn’t feel like he had all that much to lose these days so he obeyed. His headache began to ease off within seconds. “Oh,” he said stupidly.

“Any decent first year student should be able to recognize a headache draught.”

“Well, I’m not a first year, am I?”

“It’s a wonder you made it past first year.” Snape shook his head as though disappointed. It made Harry uncomfortable. “Okay, so, I have to read this very large book. Is this my summer homework?”

“I certainly hope not, as you should have it finished long before the summer’s end. We have a lot of work to do.”

Harry sighed deeply. He turned in his seat to face the table in front of him, opening the horrid textbook. He squinted down at the introductory page, reading the words but not taking them in. He glanced up at Snape who seemed to be ignoring him, prepping potion ingredients at another table. He looked back down, reading over the page for the third time. He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table.

He sighed loudly.

“Are you reading?” Snape asked in a bored tone.

“I see letters that form words that form sentences,” Harry answered in the same tone.

“So that’s a no.”

“Theoretically, I am reading right now. The process is being followed step by step, the formula just isn’t turning out quite right because I can comprehend every word on this page but I don’t understand a single sentence on it.”

Snape blinked. “You clearly own possess some semblance of a brain, it would be remarkable if you actually used it to better your studies.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed staring at the ceiling. “That sure would be something.”

“I swear, Potter. One would think that you had attention deficit disorder.”

“Huh?”

Snape paused, staring at him. “I said, one would think that you had ADHD.”

“Oh, well, yeah. Makes sense, since I do.”

“You have ADHD?” Snape asked blandly.

“Yes?”

“And are any of your teachers aware of this?”

“Um,” Harry scrunched his eyebrows, thinking. “I dunno. It’s never come up.”

“You’re telling me that in four years of schooling, your neurodevelopmental disorder has not once come up with any of your many professors?”

Harry bit his lip. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

“It most certainly is. This could explain quite a number of your more ambiguous personality traits…”

“All the things that are wrong with me, you mean?”

“No, that is not what I mean. I am simply referring to your questionable decision-making, lack of focus, and penchant for running into trouble.”

“Sounds like a common Gryffindor trait to me.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Yet I believe you display these symptoms more than most of your peers. When were you diagnosed?”

Harry had to think about it. “Primary school, I guess. My teacher made me get tested because my grades sucked. My grades mostly sucked because I had to perform worse than Dudley though, and it’s actually a lot of work to perform worse than Dudley.”

“I see. And how did your relatives react to all of this?”

Harry shrugged self-consciously. “You know how it is. They said it isn’t a real thing to start with but it would make sense for me to have it since I was already so freaky. They were annoyed when the doctor wanted to put me on medication, they said I was perfectly fine. Only time I ever heard them say there was anything remotely normal about me…” Harry frowned, getting lost in thought. It had been weird, getting diagnosed. It was the second time his teacher had told his relatives they needed to take him to be looked at, the first time being about his glasses. They hadn’t appreciated being told what to do either time, nor did they like having to buy him glasses and be told about his ADHD.

“Potter.”

“Huh?” Harry snapped his head up. Snape was looking at him strangely.

“I said, I’m not surprised, having had a glimpse into their treatment of you. It is very much a real and valid condition however, and I wish I had known about it as I could have adjusted how I taught you.”

“Do you really think you would have, Professor?” Harry asked dully. “It’s not like you like me or anything, quite the opposite, actually. I have a hard time believing that you would adjust your teaching methods in any way to accommodate for poor stupid little Harry Potter.”

Snape frowned. “I’d like to think that I would have, as I have for other students. However, we both know that my treatment of you has been far from fair. I honestly can’t say how I would have acted in that situation.”

“So what’s different now?” Harry asked. “I mean, you’re kind of,” Harry waved his hand over Snape, “civil, I guess. Nothing has really changed besides you knowing about how horrible my relatives are - were -, and that has more to do with their character than mine. I still don’t get how that would make you change your mind about me.”

“I have not changed my mind about you, I still think that you are brash, constantly running into danger, and are a poor student. However, now I can see where these traits stem from, not from arrogance, but mistreatment. Not from laziness, but rather a condition. In the process of seeing the reasoning behind your less-than-desirable traits, perhaps I can now also see that you may have a few redeemable ones as well.”

“That’s kind of stupid. I shouldn’t have to prove a valid reason behind who I am before you just decide it’s for horrible reasons and I’m horrible because of it. That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not fair, and I realize that. I have not been fair to you at all. I hope that I may be able to remedy that, but I understand if you’re unwilling to move past it. I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Harry sat up straight, huffing. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not you, then. I don’t see any reason in holding a grudge for the next fifteen years.” He gave Snape a pointed look.

Snape offered something of a smile. “That would be rather ridiculous. Now, seeing as I now know about your ADHD, perhaps we should change how we go about this. I believe that you may benefit more from a hands-on teaching approach rather than a dusty old book, yes?”

Harry lit up. “Yes.”

“I would still like for you to try to read the book, but for the sake of progress, perhaps I should begin by showing you the more practical practice of Occlumency.”

“Of course, sir.” Harry wouldn’t be reading that book anytime in the near future.

“I will begin by entering your mind-”

“You’re going to do what?”

“I did explain the concept to you, did I not? Occlumency is the art of blocking one’s mind against intrusion. In order to do this, you must first be presented a challenge to fight against, otherwise, how will you learn?”

“Is that how you learned?”

Snape’s eyes grew distant. “Yes.”

“Well,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. “What if there are things in my mind that I don’t want you to see?”

“Then you will have a good reason to try to block me out.”

“But how?”

“Sense me. If you can sense me, you can find me. If you can find me, then you can push me out.”

“Oh, okay. Well, that makes absolutely no sense, but I’ll try my best.”

“I hope so. Prepare yourself.”

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“Open your eyes, you idiot boy.”

Harry opened his eyes. “You are so annoyi-”

“Legilimens.”

Memories flashed through Harry’s mind at a sickening speed. Sitting with Ron and Hermione at the Black Lake in second year. Just a few hours ago, playing board games with them and Dudley. His first day of primary school, where Dudley and his friends had dunked him in the toilet. Harry being sent home from school after the incident because he was wet, and his aunt making him sit outside in the cold until he dried.

“Your mind is full of unorganized chaos.” Snape had clearly backed out of Harry’s mind, since there was no way that he could have pushed him out.

“Well, yeah, I could have told you that.”

“You must work to sort it out if you ever hope to gain any control over it. Close your eyes.”

“You said to open them!”

“Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Imagine yourself somewhere that makes you feel content, somewhere peaceful.”

“Okay, so not here.”

“Potter. Focus.”

Harry tried. He thought of sitting by the lake with his friends, but that just brought him back to Dudley and Aunt Petunia as it had last time. He thought of being with Sirius, but it was at Grimmauld Place and Harry didn’t much like Grimmauld Place. He thought of being on a broom, flying high in the sky, above the clouds where no one could bother him.

“Are you in your peaceful place?”

Harry nodded.

“Stay there. Open your eyes but keep your mind in your peaceful place.”

Harry opened his eyes.

“Legilimens.”

Harry was no longer alone in the sky, another person was floating on a broom beside him. He turned to face him and Harry saw that it was Snape.

“I should have known this is what you would pick,” Snape sneered lightly.

“I don’t recall picturing you in my daydream, Professor. Your presence is kind of messing with the whole inner peace vibe I got going on here.”

“This is the point of the exercise. If you don’t want me to be here, push me out.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to wish you away for the past four years, it hasn’t worked yet.”

“Erase me from the picture. It’s not that difficult.”

“So says the master,” Harry muttered. He looked around his vision, trying to find a clue as to what to do. All he could spot was a golden snitch flying past him, which he couldn’t resist going after.

“We are not here to play games, Potter,” Harry could hear Snape’s voice as though he was right beside him even when he was no longer in sight. He kept his eye on the snitch, flying faster and faster down the pitch until he was inches away from it, his fingers reaching out to grasp it as the rest of his body met the ground before he could stop it.

Harry gasped in painful lungfuls of air, though he realized that physically, nothing actually hurt. This wasn’t real. He stared down at the dirt staining his fingers as the sky grew darker and darker, until there was no longer a sky at all. He was in a building, a prison, and there was dirt on the floor where the ground of the quidditch pitch had been.

“Snape,” Harry called tentatively. “Where did you go?”

“I’m still here,” Snape responded. “Find me and push me out.”

Harry shook his head, unsure if Snape could even see it. “No, I- I wanna go. Get me out of here.”

“I can’t get you out of your own mind, Potter. You have to release yourself.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to be here, get me out!”

“Potter-”

“No!” Harry cried, and his aunt’s shrieks echoed after him. The memory came on full force, as crippling as when it was happening. Harry was once again trapped in his own mind with no way out. He watched as Aunt Petunia whimpered and begged, lying on the same cold ground that Uncle Vernon had died on.

“Please,” Harry whispered, close to tears. “Get me out.”

The scene faded, from foul odors and sounds and sights and back into reality where he was faced with Snape’s onyx eyes staring into his.

Harry blinked. “I thought you said you couldn’t get me out of my own mind.”

Snape studied him closely before responding. “I have been able to so far. But there may come a time when I truly cannot assist you, and you need to be able to help yourself. I wanted you to try before I came to your rescue. I presume that was part of the vision the Dark Lord sent you this afternoon?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, dropping his gaze.

Snape was silent for a moment before he stood abruptly, causing Harry to shrink back. He went over to a cabinet and took out a purple vial, handing it to Harry.

“What’s this?” Harry asked, sniffing the contents.

“Calming draught.”

Harry frowned, recalling how drowsy it had made him the last time Snape drugged him with it. “I’m good.”

“You are far from ‘good’, Mr. Potter,” Snape sniffed, though he did take the vial back when Harry handed it to him and set it to the side. “I imagine all of this must be very difficult for you to grapple with. I do not envy your position in this war.”

Harry snorted. “You’re the one acting as a spy, having to see him and lie to him. That seems a lot more scary to me.”

“Perhaps. However, I am not a fifteen-year-old child. I’d rather be in my position with my experience than yours.”

“Because I’m just an inexperienced child?”

“Yes,” Snape responded softly. “I do not intend it as an insult. You are merely a child with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It would not be surprising if you were having a hard time with this, Harry. It’s not a weakness to admit it.”

Harry took a deep breath, taken aback by Snape’s use of his first name. Taken aback by everything Snape did lately, actually. Snape going through a personality crisis would have affected Harry’s entire perception of the world a few months ago, before the final task, before Cedric, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia… Nothing made sense anymore. All these mind-boggling and scary things were happening all around him, and yet he was apathetic to it all, like nothing seemed important anymore. Everything was a blurry mess, like Harry had taken the glasses off in his mind.

It was confusing, conflicting, and yes, he was kind of having a hard time with it.

“It is hard,” Harry admitted quietly. “But not because it’s a lot - I mean, it is, it’s a lot of really horrible things, but… I just… it feels like it’s gotten to the point where none of it really matters anymore. Like wow, Voldemort murdered my uncle. Wow, Aunt Petunia is probably being tortured right now. Wow, Cedric died right in front of me and Voldemort came back five minutes later… it’s too much to process. Like I can’t even properly get over one thing before another thing comes crashing down on me and it’s just… it’s almost like nothing feels real. You and me here having this conversation right now, it doesn’t feel real. None of this is actually happening right now, it’s just a figment of my imagination. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Your mind is under a lot of stress,” Snape said carefully. “It is attempting to convince you that none of it is real because it would be too much to handle. I’m afraid that it is real, however, and it’s something you’re going to have to come to terms with sooner or later.”

“I think I’ll go with later, thanks.”

Snape frowned. “Avoidance is temporary.”

Harry shrugged. “So is life.”

Snape shook his head in exasperation. “Perhaps, but that is no reason to diminish the quality of your life. Shall we try again? Legilimens.”