Harry Potter and the Enemy Within

Chapter 7 - Potions

CHAPTER 7: Potions

The arrival of the morning post had become a tense affair at Hogwarts. Since New Year, Voldemort had been on a rampage of terror. For a month now there had been almost nightly Death Eater attacks and the students and faculty alike dreaded opening the Daily Prophet. But curiosity always won out. This morning, audible gasps could be heard in the Great Hall, as the previous night’s attack had been particularly vicious. A family of four had been killed and there were eyewitness reports that the youngest child had been swallowed by a giant snake.

Snape glanced from the paper to the Gryffindor table where Finnigan was obviously reading the same article to anyone within earshot. His housemates, though horrified, were hanging on every word. All except Potter. He was staring at nothing and gave no indication that he even heard. He looked sick.

And I’ve got him for Potions in half an hour, Snape thought in disgust. Potter’s visions had become the bane of Snape’s existence and not only because he’d been tasked with teaching the boy to control them. His sixth year Potions class was an exercise in sheer nerve. Depending upon the events of the night before, Potter could either be attentive and competent or distracted to the point of being dangerous.

Snape glanced at Potter again. This was not going to be one of his good days. That was a problem because they had a particularly difficult potion to brew this morning. He couldn’t simply excuse the boy from class - he refused to set that precedent. But neither could he stand over the boy’s shoulder the whole time to ensure he didn’t blow up the classroom.

Snape considered. He would simply have to rely on Granger to keep Potter out of trouble. She had already been doing this to some extent, Snape knew. She shared Potter’s workbench and Snape had seen her stop the boy from concocting volatile combinations on more than one occasion. She was always surreptitious about it, no doubt afraid of drawing her teacher’s attention and disapproval. Probably because of this concern, she had missed a few memorable mistakes. She couldn’t afford to miss any today.

The Great Hall was already emptying as students headed for classes. Snape rose too and made his way to the dungeons.

***

“Harry, are you sure you’re all right?” Hermione asked for the third time.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Harry answered irritably. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It doesn’t help that Seamus has to read the Daily Prophet to us over breakfast.”

Hermione looked dismayed. “I know, Harry, but Seamus doesn’t understand.”

“Just forget it, all right? We’ve got enough to worry about with Potions.” They entered Snape’s classroom and found their seats as the rest of the class filed in. Snape, as usual, was the last to arrive and began without preamble.

“The Eternal Sleep potion you will be brewing today is so called because whoever drinks it falls into a state of almost perfect suspended animation and may sleep for centuries without aging a day. The only way to revive someone who has ingested this potion is by administering the antidote. Unfortunately, it has some unpleasant side effects, so I would advise against drinking your potions as a lark.

“I expect that you have all read up on the potion’s preparation. The instructions are on the board and you will find all the necessary ingredients before you.” Snape paused and surveyed the class.

“This potion is a particularly dangerous one to brew, requiring meticulous attention to detail,” he said as he walked among the workbenches fixing each student with a stern glare.

“The slightest mistake could prove disastrous and I have no desire to send anyone to the Hospital Wing today.” This was said with a particularly pointed look at Harry.

“Therefore, I need you all to be certain that no mistakes are made,” Snape turned his piercing gaze on Hermione as he made this last point, which was odd. Harry was sure Hermione had never made a mistake in Potions. But as Snape stared at Hermione, his eyes flickered for the briefest instant to Harry. Hermione stiffened and glanced his way as well then gave an almost imperceptible nod to Snape.

Harry could feel his face going red. It had been a subtle exchange, but he knew everyone in the vicinity had caught it. Their neighbors, long accustomed to Harry’s erratic potion brewing, had already inched as far away from him as possible. The least subtle students had piled books on the edges of their workbenches to form makeshift barriers. Now they were glancing hopefully at Hermione. Even the Slytherins were giving her encouraging looks.

Harry was furious. He wasn’t incompetent! He had got an Outstanding on his Potions OWL, after all. He didn’t need Hermione to baby-sit him! Snape told them to begin and Harry pointed his wand to light the fire under his cauldron. Hermione cleared her throat and Harry glanced over at her. She was staring intently at the board and Harry followed her gaze to the potion instructions. The first one caught his attention immediately. In a cold cauldron, combine the first three ingredients and let sit for five minutes.

Harry forced himself not to sigh. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t at his best. He gritted his teeth, determined to follow the instructions to the letter and make no further mistakes.

By the third step, he’d given up. He was simply too tired and distracted to focus. Instead, he settled for mimicking Hermione’s every move. He could tell that she knew what he was doing. She’d slowed her usual brisk pace enough for him to keep up, but at least she didn’t have to stop between steps to wait for him.

At last the potions were done. Harry’s bubbled in his cauldron as perfect as Hermione’s, but he felt no satisfaction. He knew he couldn’t have brewed it on his own. As the other students went up to turn in vials of their potion to be marked, Harry hung back and busied himself cleaning up the workbench. When there was enough activity in the classroom that he knew he wouldn’t be noticed, he Vanished the contents of his cauldron and left.

***

Wednesday dawned cold but clear, much to the Gryffindors’ relief. True to his word, Ryan had continued Defense class down by the lake even in what Harry considered near blizzard conditions. They were still working in inter-house pairs. Depressingly, Harry was still teamed up with Malfoy, though he had to admit that he had learnt a few things. Harry didn’t think he would ever use some of the underhanded tactics Malfoy came up with, but it was certainly useful to know how the other side operated. They had learnt to work together well enough to beat all the other teams with the exception of Hermione and Millicent, who still managed to consistently defeat everyone. Against all odds the two girls seemed to have formed an unbeatable rapport and remained undefeated

"What do you two do, read each other's minds?" Ron asked as they walked back up to the castle in the late January snow.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "We just know to play to each other's strengths, that's all. Professor Ryan is right. We can learn a lot from one another."

"Yeah, but Millicent Bulstrode?"

"She's not that bad, Ron."

Harry was only half listening to the conversation. He was cold, dirty and exhausted and had only just managed to hold his own in Defense. He hadn’t had an uninterrupted night’s sleep in weeks. He still hadn’t learnt to block his visions and he knew they were taking a toll on him. He was more distracted than ever and could hardly keep up in his classes. Even in Defense it was becoming impossible to concentrate.

He trudged into the entrance hall and spotted Snape glaring at the whole class in disgust. For once, though, the Potions Master didn’t yell at them. Instead he addressed the Defense teacher who had entered the Hall behind Harry.

“Ryan!” he snapped. “Must the students always return from your class in this condition?”

Ryan surveyed the filthy and bedraggled students. “They’re all healthy enough. What’s the problem?” he asked congenially.

“They’re a disgrace! We have standards here at Hogwarts in case you weren’t aware of it.”

“It’s not my job to keep the students clean and tidy, Snape. All I care about is teaching them to defend themselves against the Dark Arts. Of course, I realize that may not be high on your agenda. All things considered.”

Snape turned pale with fury, but Ryan brushed past him and into the Great Hall before he could respond to the Defense teacher’s insinuations. The students knew their Potions Master well enough to scatter before his wrath could fall on them. Even the Slytherins didn’t look at him as they hurried towards the dungeons. Harry, Ron and Hermione ducked down a side corridor, not willing to brave the exposed main staircase.

“Did you see the look on Snape’s face?” Ron crowed.

“Ryan really shouldn’t bait him like that,” Hermione said. “He all but called Snape a Death Eater. Millicent told me that Ryan has been making insinuations to the Slytherins about Snape’s loyalties for months, but if you ask me, it’s getting out of hand if he’s going to start doing it in the entrance hall.”

“Ryan can take care of himself and Snape deserves it. It’s good to see him get a taste of his own medicine for a change. Right, Harry?”

“I suppose,” Harry answered without interest.

“You suppose?” Ron said incredulously. “As awful as Snape is to you all the time, Harry, you ought to love seeing him get bullied for a change.”

Harry glanced sharply at Ron and pressed his lips together.

“I’m tired and hungry and I don’t care what Ryan and Snape say to each other,” he said irritably. “Let’s just get cleaned up and get some lunch, okay?”

“Fine,” Ron agreed, though he was clearly irritated too.

Lunch was a sullen affair. Harry was too tired to care that he’d snapped at his friend. Ron looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t dare and Hermione kept glancing worriedly at both of them. But soon it was time for History of Magic and Harry gratefully settled into his seat. As usual, it didn’t take long for Binns’ droning to put him to sleep.

***

“My Lord, we have found the coward,” Lucius Malfoy said, bowing deeply to Harry.

Two other Death Eaters dragged a man in and shoved him to his knees. Harry recognized the man at once. Igor Karkaroff was trembling and wore a wild, terrified expression.

“Igor,” Harry said in a low hiss. “How nice of you to finally rejoin us.”

“My Lord,” Karkaroff croaked in a hoarse whisper.

“You didn’t think I’d forget the way you betrayed me, did you?” Harry continued smoothly.

“My Lord, I didn’t betray you! I thought you had been destroyed! I would never have denied you while you lived!”

“You’re a coward, Igor,” Harry said contemptuously. “And you disgust me. I will show you what the fate of traitors is.”

Harry raised his wand.

“No, my Lord!” Karkaroff begged. “Please!”

***

Harry screamed and bolted up in his seat. The rest of his classmates, most of whom had been dozing themselves, jumped. Some screamed; others knocked their books off their desks as they leaped out of their seats. Neville was so startled he fell out of his chair and even Binns paused in his lecture and looked up.

Harry looked around wildly before taking in the shocked stares of his fellow students and realizing where he was. Embarrassed, he tried to calm his pounding heart.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Nightmare.”

Harry slumped miserably in his seat, his face burning as the rest of the class resumed their seats and Binns continued with his lecture. He was wide awake, but paid no attention to what Binns was saying. The torture he’d just witnessed had been some of the worst Harry had ever seen and he felt sick. Fortunately, class ended shortly thereafter.

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked as they left class.

“Voldemort found Karkaroff,” Harry answered quietly so that only Hermione and Ron would hear.

Hermione gasped. “Is he dead?” she asked.

“Not yet. At least he wasn’t when I woke up.”

“You need to tell Dumbledore,” Hermione continued.

“He’s not here,” Ron said. “Remember, he’s away at the Ministry all day.”

“McGonagall then,” Hermione suggested.

“I’ll tell Snape,” Harry said. “I’ve got lessons with him right after dinner.”

Harry struggled through the rest of the day and arrived at Snape’s office, that evening, knowing he was in no condition to work. He wouldn’t have gone at all if he had thought he could get away with it, but he was certain Snape would come looking for him if he didn’t show up. He briefly considered going to Madam Pomfrey and pleading an upset stomach, but somehow, he suspected the Snape wouldn’t be fooled by such a ruse. Besides, Harry had a message to deliver.

Snape was marking homework as usual when Harry arrived. Harry sank down into his accustomed chair and stared at the jars of potions ingredients lining the shelves of the office.

“They found Karkaroff,” he said dully.

Snape froze then his head snapped up.

“It was during History of Magic,” Harry continued matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if he’s dead or not. He probably is, but I woke up before they finished. I didn’t know if you knew or not.”

There was a long pause before Snape spoke.

“No. I didn’t,” he managed to say in an even tone. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. I’ll pass that along.”

Harry nodded wearily still not looking at his teacher, though he could feel Snape studying him.

“Why didn’t you turn in your potion in class yesterday?” Snape asked at last.

Harry looked at Snape, surprised by the unexpected question.

“I wasn’t able to make it,” he answered.

“Then what exactly were you doing all through class?”

“I was following Hermione. I couldn’t keep the instructions straight, so I just copied what she was doing.”

“Then I should think your potion would have been perfect.”

“It wasn’t my potion, it was hers. It would have been cheating to turn it in.”

Snape’s lip curled in contempt. “Of course, the noble Mr. Potter, always above any hint of impropriety. Tell me, Potter, do you think I’m incompetent?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Then how can you imagine I failed to notice what you were doing? If you can’t follow directions, it would be useful to know if you can at least follow Miss Granger when she’s practically leading you by the hand.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “All right! Fine!” he said in exasperation. “I promise I’ll never fail to turn in a potion again. Sir.”

“You’ll do better than that, Potter. Since you’re supposed to be taking individual potions lessons from me, I think it’s about time you actually had one. Come with me.”

Snape stood up and swept out of the office into the adjoining classroom. Harry had no choice but to follow. He found Snape setting out potions ingredients on one of the workbenches.

“You want me to brew a potion?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Specifically, I want you to brew the Eternal Sleep potion we made in class yesterday,” Snape answered.

“You’re joking!”

Snape scowled disdainfully at Harry. “Do I look as if I’m joking, Potter?”

No, Harry thought; Snape certainly looked serious. But it was madness. He could barely make it through the day; much less brew a complicated potion. What difference did it make anyway? At this rate, he was going to be insane before he ever got the chance to take his NEWTs. Snape’s demand was so absurd it was all Harry could do not to laugh. But Snape clearly wasn’t about to back down and Harry felt a kind of surreal calm settle over him.

“Okay, Professor,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” Harry came over to the workbench, ran his eye down the lengthy list of instructions and surveyed the large number of ingredients arrayed before him. There was no way he was going to be able to manage this.

“Potter, there is nothing required in the preparation of this potion that you have not done successfully dozens of times before.” Snape told him. “The difficulty is in staying focused on what you’re doing. Concentrate, follow the directions exactly, and you should have no trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, trying desperately not to giggle. Snape favored Harry with one last scowl before stalking over to his desk at the front of the classroom. Harry turned his attention to the potion. He had only brewed it the day before and although he’d been following Hermione, he still remembered quite a lot of it. He scanned the instructions again, set out his ingredients in order as Hermione had done and began.

Without the time pressure of class, Harry found that the potion really wasn’t that hard to make, so long as he didn’t let his concentration wander. He didn’t fancy blowing up the classroom and himself along with it, so he did his best to follow the instructions carefully.

Minutes dragged into an hour and more. Harry forgot about his visions as he methodically chopped, ground, measured and stirred his way through each step. He was nearly finished and as far as he could tell, he’d done everything correctly. Once he added the last ingredient he’d know for sure. If he’d got it right, the potion would turn a clear blue. If not, it would explode rather spectacularly.

Harry was eyeing his ground Billywigs cautiously when Snape approached and peered over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you done yet, Potter?” Snape asked impatiently.

“Almost sir. I’m at the last step.”

“Well, hurry up then.”

Harry took a deep breath and dumped the Billywigs into his cauldron. The potion immediately began to hiss and boil then turned a clear crystal blue and settled down to bubble gently.

“It worked,” Harry said in amazement, not quite believing he’d got the potion right.

“Well, it would appear that you’re not entirely incompetent after all,” Snape said grudgingly.

“Sorry to disappoint you, sir,” Harry said before he could think better of it.

“Of course, if you could manage the same performance in class that would be truly astonishing,” Snape said, ignoring Harry’s impertinence. “Clean this up and that will be all for tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said as Snape swept out of the classroom. Harry quickly cleaned up the workbench. His success with the potion had boosted his confidence but it had also made him angry. He wasn’t incompetent. He might never be a brilliant potion-maker but he wasn’t hopeless at it either and he was tired of Snape treating him like an i***t. But he knew this year he’d made it far too easy for the Potions Master to ridicule him, what with botched potions and incomplete homework. That was going to change. No matter what it took, he was never going to walk into Snape’s class unprepared again.

Harry left the classroom and headed purposefully down the corridor, but as he approached Snape’s office, he slowed. The office door was ajar and Harry could hear voices. He moved quietly forward and stopped just outside the door. The voices were clear now and he recognized Draco Malfoy’s most fawning tone.

“You see, Professor, some of us were hoping to spend some extra time working on our potions, but we don’t have the ingredients we need in the student stores.”

“Boomslang skin is a very potent ingredient, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape replied. “And it is used in only a handful of potions which could be safely brewed in your dormitory.”

“I realize that, sir,” Malfoy continued. “I assure you we take it quite seriously and it’s for a very good cause.”

“Be that as it may…” Snape hesitated and Harry leaned closer to hear.

The door was suddenly yanked open and Harry found himself staring up into Snape’s accusing glare.

“Well, Mr. Potter, eavesdropping?” Snape said in his nastiest tone.

“No sir!” Harry said quickly. “I’ve just finished cleaning up the classroom as you told me to. Everything’s put away. I wanted to know if I could go back to my dormitory now.”

Harry knew he’d already been dismissed and knew that Snape wasn’t at all fooled by his excuse, but he was hoping that the Potions Master wouldn’t push the point. He glanced at Malfoy who was clearly amused at the thought of Harry cleaning the Potions classroom. The Slytherin obviously considered such menial tasks beneath him.

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” Snape said. “You may go back to your dormitory. But if the classroom is not in perfect order when I inspect it, you’ll have detention. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Harry said.

Snape turned back to Malfoy.

“Mr. Malfoy, see me after class tomorrow and I’ll make certain you get what you need.”

“Thank you, sir,” Malfoy said. He nodded amiably at Snape, gave Harry one last condescending smirk and disappeared back towards the Slytherin common room.

“Mr. Potter, I assume you don’t plan to stand in the hallway all night,” Snape said.

“No sir,” Harry said. “Goodnight sir.”

Harry quickly returned to his own common room where he found Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny said. “Want to play?”

“Sure,” Harry sat down between Ginny and Hermione as they began a new round.

“Hermione,” Harry asked, “What’s the worst potion you can brew that requires Boomslang skin?”

“Boomslang skin?” Hermione said. “There’re all sorts.”

“What’s the worst one that Draco Malfoy could brew?”

“Malfoy! Well, that narrows things down a bit. Why do you ask?”

“I just overheard Malfoy asking Snape for Boomslang skin,” Harry told her. “Whatever he wants it for, I’m sure he’s up to no good.”

“The only thing I can think of that Malfoy and his gang could manage would be Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione said.

“What would he need that for?” Ron asked. “I can’t imagine Malfoy wanting to be anyone but himself.”

“Maybe he’s not planning to use it on himself,” Ginny said.

“Who, then?” Neville wondered.

“And who’d be stupid enough to drink anything Malfoy brewed?” Ron added.

“I can think of a couple of people,” Ginny said.

“Crabbe and Goyle,” Neville said.

“Yeah, but what are they smart enough to do once they’ve taken it?” Ron protested.

“Maybe they plan to impersonate you and Harry,” Hermione said with a remarkably straight face.

“Funny,” Ron said.

“Well, they’ve got to be up to something,” Harry said. “We’d better keep an eye on them.”

They all nodded agreement.

***

The next day they all took turns shadowing Malfoy and it didn’t take long for this to pay off. It was Ginny who spotted him slipping into an unused classroom down a usually deserted dungeon hallway.

“I need to get into that room and find out what they’re making,” Hermione said when Ginny had reported the news.

“We can use my invisibility cloak and go tonight,” Harry said.

“I’m coming too,” Ron said.

“Actually, I think Ginny and I should go alone,” Hermione said.

“What?” Harry said.

“You can’t!” Ron protested.

“We can’t all fit under the invisibility cloak,” Hermione said reasonably. “Ginny knows where the room is and I need to see the potion. We’ll handle it.”

“But what if you’re caught?” Ron asked worriedly.

“All the more reason for you to stay behind,” Ginny said. “We don’t need half the Quidditch team getting suspended.”

Neither Ron nor Harry was particularly pleased with the plan but they had to admit it was the only one that made sense. They met in the common room at midnight and Harry handed over his invisibility cloak along with the Marauder’s Map.

“So this is the Marauder’s Map.” Ginny peered at it with interest. “Fred and George told me about it over the summer, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe them or not. Wow, it really does show everyone. Look! Here we are in the common room.”

“You’re supposed to be looking for the teachers or Filch,” Ron said testily. You’ve got to keep a close eye on the map so you don’t run into anyone.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Just be careful,” Ron said.

“We will, Ron,” Hermione told him kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Honestly! And you accuse me of worrying too much.”

She and Ginny slipped under the cloak and vanished from sight. Ron opened the portrait hole and waited.

“Okay,” came the whispered acknowledgment from the hallway and Ron swung the door shut.

Harry sat down by the cold fireplace and tried to ignore Ron, who had begun to pace back and forth. It seemed to take forever, but eventually there was a tap at the portrait hole. Ron hurried to open it and in a moment Ginny and Hermione appeared from underneath the invisibility cloak.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion all right,” Hermione said.

“But we still don’t know why they’re making it,” Ginny said.

“It looks as though the potion won’t be ready for at least two weeks,” Hermione continued. “We’ll just have to keep checking back.”

They went back to bed and Harry was almost glad of the mystery surrounding Malfoy and the Polyjuice Potion. Watching Malfoy would give him something to do and at least it might take his mind off his visions for awhile.

***

Harry took special care to prepare for his lesson with Snape the following evening. He took the time to run through some mental exercises to ensure that his mind would be particularly focused and controlled. Now that he and his friends were spying on Malfoy he knew he’d have to be especially careful. He certainly didn’t want Snape to find out what they were up to. Fortunately, Harry had become quite proficient at Occlumency. He could now dispel his memories as quickly as Snape could summon them with little more than a mental shrug. He was confident that he could keep these particular memories hidden.

Harry arrived at Snape’s office and they began the lesson with Occlumency which had become their standard practice. Harry’s memories sprang to life and he could feel his mental control assert itself. He was about to banish a memory of Dudley having locked him out of the house in the rain, when he felt a wholly new sensation.

He couldn’t really describe the feeling. It was the mental equivalent of a gentle breath on the back of his neck. In the next moment it was gone and Harry wondered if he’d simply imagined it.

“You aren’t focusing, Potter,” Snape admonished. “Concentrate.”

“Yes sir.”

Harry took a deep breath to calm his mind and tried to focus on the memories rushing by. He concentrated, reached out mentally… and felt the sensation in his mind once more. Instantly, Harry’s concentration was shattered and he instinctively threw up all the mental barriers he’d learnt.

“Potter, what on earth are you doing?” Snape asked in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I just felt… something…” Harry trailed off not sure how to describe the sensation he’d felt and not sure that Snape would believe him in any case.

Snape was regarding Harry keenly.

“Is that so?” Snape asked. He slipped his wand into his pocket. “Clear your mind and keep it as still and quiet as possible.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said.

He did this all the time and it wasn’t difficult. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Slowly he emptied his mind of all thought as his breathing deepened.

“Now focus on your mind, itself,” Snape said. “Be aware of the stillness and quiet.”

Harry did as Snape instructed.

“Now, without losing your inner focus, open your eyes and look at me.”

Harry opened his eyes. He was still very much aware of his own calm control. He felt detached from his surroundings and met Snape’s gaze without the slightest trepidation.

Then he felt it.

The sensation was much stronger than before and Harry now recognized it for what it was: the whisper of another mind touching his. The presence brushed against his consciousness and Harry gasped. In the next moment it was gone again.

“Well, it would seem you are making progress,” Snape said.

“That… was you?” Harry asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ve never felt that before.”

“No,” Snape said. “It takes a fairly competent Occlumens to be able to sense the invasion of his mind. It can be disconcerting the first few times, but you’ll get used to it.”

If Snape meant that to be reassuring, he failed miserably. The thought of experiencing Snape’s mental presence again only filled Harry with dread.

“I’m not sure I want to get used to it,” Harry said.

“Potter, how else do you suppose one can effectively perform Occlumency?” Snape said impatiently. “You have to be able to sense when your mind is being invaded. The mental awareness you just experienced is what provides that warning, so like it or not, you will have to get used to it. Now, let’s move on to Legilimency.”

“Yes sir.”

The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully and Harry experienced no more brushes with Snape’s mind. Nevertheless, he left his professor’s office that evening feeling deeply disturbed.

***

The next morning at breakfast Harry was still preoccupied with his experience in Snape’s office the night before. He looked up at the head table where Snape was engrossed in the paper and wondered why it had affected him so badly. He and Snape had been reliving one another’s memories for months not to mention all the times he’d inhabited Voldemort’s murderous thoughts. This had been the barest touch and not at all unpleasant. There was no reason why it should have left him so shaken and yet it had. He wondered if Snape was right. Would he simply get used to the sensation? Somehow, he didn’t think so.

“Harry!”

Harry started and looked across the table at Ron.

“What?”

“I said pass the jam.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, handing over the jam.

“You’re a million miles away this morning,” Ron said glancing over his shoulder to follow Harry’s gaze. “What are you staring at anyway?”

“Nothing,” Harry answered a little too quickly.

Ron gave Harry a knowing look. “Snape give you a hard time last night?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Are you making progress?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know. I guess so. I felt something different last night when we were practicing Occlumency.”

“What do you mean ‘different’?” Ron asked.

“Normally, I just see my memories, or Snape’s, but last night I felt, I don’t know, a sort of presence in my mind, as if there were someone else there.”

That sounded insane, Harry realized, and in fact Ron was looking at him as though his sanity might be in question. Hermione, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“Harry, you felt Snape’s mind!” she whispered excitedly.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Ron, don’t you remember? I told you. A good Occlumens can sense when his mind is being invaded. Harry, if you can manage that, you’ve made tremendous progress! This is wonderful!”

“Yeah, wonderful,” Harry said with considerably less enthusiasm.

“What’s the problem?” Ron asked. “Hermione’s right. This is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry conceded. “Of course it is. It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. When I first started studying with Snape, I thought there couldn’t be anything worse than having my memories invaded. That’s humiliating enough. But this was different, subtler. And, yet in a way, it felt even more…” Harry trailed off searching for the words to describe what he’d felt.

“Intimate?” Ginny supplied.

Harry looked sharply at her and she met his eyes calmly.

“Yes,” Harry said. “That’s it exactly. It was too intimate.”

“Maybe you’re just not used to it?” Ron said.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry agreed. “Snape did say it could be disconcerting at first.”

“Listen, don’t worry about it, Harry,” Hermione said. “I’m sure it will work itself out. Why don’t you come to the library with Ron and me? That’ll take your mind off Snape for a while.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes, Harry,” Ginny said before Harry could answer.

“Sure,” Harry said. “No problem.”

“Well, we’ll see you two later then,” Hermione said. She and Ron rose from the table and left.

“So, what is it you want to talk about?” Harry asked.

Ginny glanced around. “I don’t want to talk about it here. Come on.”

She got up from the table and Harry followed her out of the Great Hall. But instead of heading for the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny made her way down a side corridor.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“Somewhere private.”

They reached an empty classroom. Ginny led the way in, shut the door and turned to face Harry with an unusually serious expression. Harry was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable and wondered if he shouldn’t have gone to study with Ron and Hermione after all.

“I know why Snape affected you so badly yesterday,” Ginny said.

“You do?” Harry said, surprise driving away his discomfort.

“I’ve never told anyone about this before because I didn’t think anyone else would understand. In my first year, when I finally figured out what Riddle was doing to me, it was like what you talked about with Professor Snape and your memories. He made me do things against my will and that was humiliating and terrifying. But even though he was controlling me, we were still separate. There was a barrier between us, between our minds. Do you know what I mean?”

Harry nodded.

“But then one day, I must have tried to defy him and he got really angry and he… I could feel him touch me, his mind touch my mind. It made me feel naked and violated. It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Harry stared at Ginny in horror. It had been bad enough having Snape touch his mind, even for a moment and he studied with the man all the time. He didn’t want to think what it must have been like for Ginny to have Riddle force himself on her. Harry didn’t know what to say, so he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ginny. She slid her arms around him as well and they stood holding each other in silence.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered at last.

“I know. It’s all right.” Ginny looked up at Harry. “I just wanted you to know that you’re not crazy for feeling uncomfortable about what happened with Professor Snape.”

Ginny pulled away from Harry and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “Hermione’s right, it’ll work itself out.”

Ginny flashed a quick smile then left. Harry watched her go, wishing he could share her confidence, but the memory of his brush with Snape’s mind filled him with dread and he was in no hurry to repeat the experience. Maybe it had just been a fluke, Harry thought. Maybe he wouldn’t even sense Snape’s mind again.

***

Harry’s spirits sank over the course of his next few lessons, as it became obvious that his mind, having been introduced to the sensation, was now eagerly watchful for the presence of another mind. Harry felt irritated and slightly betrayed that his mind would do this when he so desperately wanted it not to. He found Snape’s mental presence horribly disconcerting and distracting. Worse, his latest vision had turned his already gloomy mood bleak.

“Whew!” Seamus whistled. “Did you see this? Gringott’s was attacked last night! They stole hundreds of thousands of Galleons!”

“You mean they got past the Goblins’ defenses?” Dean asked. “That really is something!”

“But why attack Gringotts?” Neville wondered. “That’ll only anger the Goblins and that can’t be a good idea.”

“I guess even omnipotent, evil wizards need money,” Ron said.

“More likely, it’s just a new phase of the terror campaign,” Hermione said. “Gringotts’ defenses were supposed to be impenetrable. Getting past them makes Voldemort seem even more unstoppable.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Ginny asked.

Seamus scanned the paper. “Just one Auror who happened to be passing by. He was killed.”

Harry slammed his fork down on his plate and glared at his tablemates.

“Can’t we ever talk about anything besides what’s in the bloody paper every morning?”

His friends looked at him, startled by his outburst.

“It’s Gringott’s, Harry,” Seamus said. “It’s sort of important.”

“Besides, it wasn’t that bad,” Ron said.

“Fine,” Harry said throwing down his napkin and standing up. “I’ll see you all in Defense.”

He stalked out of the hall leaving his bewildered classmates to stare after him, and headed for the lake muttering angrily to himself.

“Bloody stupid paper!” It was bad enough that he had to witness Voldemort’s attacks in his sleep without having to recap the highlights at breakfast! Why couldn’t his friends realize that?

“Good morning Mr. Potter,” Professor Ryan said cheerily as Harry approached.

“I suppose so, sir,” Harry answered curtly.

Ryan arched one eyebrow at him, but said nothing else. The rest of the class began to arrive and soon they had paired off for the first duel of the day. He and Malfoy were set to duel Ron and Goyle in a small copse of trees and had split up to outflank the enemy.

Harry was unusually edgy and distracted as he took cover behind a tree. He spotted Goyle lumbering towards him and stepped out to face him.

“Stupefy!” Harry cried.

But Harry’s aim had been off and Goyle dove for cover which was probably fortunate since Harry had put so much force into the spell that it splintered the sapling in its path. Harry and Goyle both stared at the ruined tree, stunned.

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand went flying and he spun around to find Ron grinning at him. Harry felt a flash of pure fury though whether his anger was directed at Ron or himself, he couldn’t have said.

Just then Malfoy came storming up to them.

“What is wrong with you, Potter?” he said angrily. “Can’t you aim straight or are you just trying to attract attention? And how could you miss Weasley coming up the path? I saw him from the other side of the woods! I’m surprised you didn’t let Goyle sneak up on you too!”

“Just shut it, all right!” Harry said, turning his anger on Malfoy.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Potter! You’re the one who’s hopeless.”

Harry was suddenly furious beyond rational thought. Without thinking, he launched himself at Malfoy. He didn’t bother with a wand, but shoved the Slytherin to the ground and punched him hard across the jaw. He pulled back his fist to strike again, but Ron grabbed him.

“Harry, no!” Ron dragged Harry off Malfoy. “Stop it! He’s not worth it!”

Malfoy got to his feet, rubbing his cut lip.

“You’re mad, Potter!” he said.

“Maybe I am, so you’d better stay away from me, Malfoy!” Harry warned. “Stay away from me or I swear you’ll be sorry!”

Harry pulled away from Ron and stormed off. He was half way back to the castle when he finally came to a halt He stood still, trying to get his churning emotions under control. He was furious and he had no idea why. Malfoy had called him worse things than hopeless in the past and he’d actually got quite good at ignoring the Slytherin’s taunts this year. So why had he gone off on Malfoy today?

“You’re mad, Potter!” Malfoy’s words echoed in his mind along with his own. “Maybe I am.” Was it true? Was he finally going mad? He’d been distracted and unable to concentrate before and he knew what it was like to have his anger get the better of him. But there was more to it than that. He felt a sort of desperation he never had before and it frightened him.

”Harry!”

Harry turned as Ron came running up to him.

“Harry, don’t let Malfoy get to you,” Ron said regarding Harry with obvious concern. “He’s just trying to make you angry. You know that.”

“Yeah, well I am angry,” Harry snapped. “Malfoy’s right. Goyle could have snuck up on me and I wouldn’t have noticed! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He resumed his determined march back towards the castle and Ron fell into step along side him.

“Will you stop being so hard on yourself,” Ron said. “You’ve hardly slept in weeks. It’s no wonder you’re a wreck. You’re exhausted.”

Harry looked at Ron. “There’s not much I can do about that,” he said.

“Look, why don’t you go lie down until McGonagall’s class?” Ron suggested. “Voldemort’s not going to be out murdering people in broad daylight. You can get some sleep.”

“We’ve got Quidditch practice at noon,” Harry said.

“Forget practice!” Ron said. “It’s not like you need it. I’ll tell Katie you’re sick.”

Harry took a moment to consider and his rage began to subside. “Okay,” he said at last. “Maybe you’re right.”

They were at the castle now and Harry left Ron in the entrance hall and went up to his room. He shrugged off his robes and curled up on his bed. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe all he needed was to get some sleep. But despite his exhaustion, sleep didn’t come. Instead, Harry’s mind went back to the scene in the Great Hall at breakfast.

“Gringotts Attacked!” the headline in the Daily Prophet had read that morning. But Ron was right. Compared to all the people who had been tortured and murdered in recent months, it hadn’t been that bad. Hundreds of thousands of galleons hardly seemed important and the attack itself hadn’t been too bloody.

Even so, Harry’s dream from the previous night kept replaying in his mind. Most of Gringotts defenses were magical and Voldemort had dispensed with them with a wave of his wand. Then the Auror had shown up. The Death Eaters on the scene had stood aside at Voldemort’s command, leaving the battle to their lord. The Auror had put up a good fight, hurling curses Harry had only read about. But of course, it hadn’t been enough. It had been nothing more than a game to Voldemort. Harry recalled the sense of mild amusement he’d felt as he effortlessly turned aside the Auror’s most potent spells in his dream. He had played with the Auror until he’d become bored then with a single flick of his wand, he’d ended it. Harry shook his head to banish the memory.

Others might fear Voldemort, whose powers were almost mythical in the Wizarding World, but Harry knew just how impossible it was to stand against him. He felt his stomach lurch as another wave of desperate hopelessness washed over him.

Stop it! He told himself. I’ve got to sleep.

As so often in the past few months, Harry turned to his mental exercises to clear his mind. If his lessons with Snape had accomplished nothing else, they had at least taught him this. For that, Harry was truly grateful. He was sure he’d have been driven mad by now if he hadn’t had the ability to block out his worst thoughts. Harry relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep.

***

Harry opened his eyes. He felt well rested but still comfortably sleepy. He let his eyelids droop shut again, savoring the cozy warmth of his bed as the shafts of late afternoon sunlight angled in through the window. Harry started up in bed and looked out the window. Sure enough, long shadows were stretching across the grounds. He looked at his watch. It was nearly five o’clock. Harry was dumbstruck. He’d been asleep for over five hours and had missed his afternoon classes. He stumbled out of bed and went down to the common room where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess.

“So did they cancel classes this afternoon, or did you just forget about me?” Harry asked Ron.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Ron said defensively. “It was Hermione’s idea to let you sleep.”

Harry turned to Hermione but she returned his accusing look calmly.

“Actually, I threatened to curse anyone who woke you up,” Hermione said. “This was the first decent rest you’ve had in ages and it was more important for you to sleep than go to class. You would have been useless anyway. I told Professors McGonagall and Sprout that you were sick and they seemed to understand.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. That Hermione would consider anything more important than going to class was astonishing and he had to admit that she was right. He would have been useless in class.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “I suppose I did need the rest. I feel a lot better than I did.”

In fact, now that the grogginess of his long nap was wearing off, Harry realized he felt more alert than he had in a long time and more relaxed and in control than he had earlier in the day. He was hungry too, having skipped lunch. Fortunately it was time for dinner. Harry ate heartily instead of picking at his food as he had in recent weeks and then headed for Snape’s office.

“Hello Professor,” Harry greeted Snape.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter,” Snape replied as he stood up and fixed Harry with his usual penetrating gaze.

Harry met his teacher’s eyes without hesitation. Neither of them bothered to draw his wand. Being well rested and well fed seemed to help Harry focus his thoughts even better than usual. He ignored Snape’s presence in his mind and concentrated on banishing his memories.

Harry was hanging from the roof at number 4 Privet Drive with Voldemort staring down at him. Harry gave a mental shrug and instantly the memory was gone. He was in a dimly lit room with a large snake coiled up near by. Gone. Harry was in a graveyard surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort was laughing at him. Gone. Tom Riddle was standing over him as the Basilisk poison worked its way through his body. Gone.

The memories ended and Harry looked at Snape in surprise. His teacher never interrupted this exercise, but Snape was frowning at him.

“Is something wrong, Professor?” Harry asked.

“Your memories are all of the Dark Lord this evening. May I ask why?”

“I had another dream last night,” Harry said.

“You’ve dreamt of worse things than an attack on Gringotts,” Snape said impatiently. “Why has it affected you this badly?”

“It hasn’t,” Harry said, not quite meeting Snape’s eyes.

“You’re an abysmal liar, Potter,” Snape said easily. “Do you know that?”

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at Snape.

“There is little point in learning Occlumency when all your emotions are visible on your face,” the Potions Master continued. “Tell me.”

The last command was given in a tone Harry knew all too well and which brooked no disobedience. Harry sighed in annoyance. He didn’t want to think about the vision he’d had the night before. Since awaking that afternoon, he’d put it out of his mind, but now the memory returned vividly.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said dismissively, trying to ignore the dread that was starting to take hold in his mind once more. “It’s just that most of the time they don’t fight back. His victims, I mean. Most die without even trying to defend themselves, but the Auror last night did fight. And he was good, too. But it didn’t make any difference. All of his spells were just waved aside. Nothing he tried had any effect at all.”

“If the Dark Lord were easy to defeat, someone would have done so long ago,” Snape said. “Surely you realize that.”

“Of course, I do! I’m not stupid!” Harry snapped. His stomach was cramping and he was sorry he’d eaten so much at dinner.

Snape pressed his lips together in anger and his voice was hard when he spoke.

“Then what is the problem?”

“Nothing!” Harry yelled without meaning to. He could feel the familiar desperation rising in him along with the anger that seemed to always accompany it.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and Harry felt the touch of his teacher’s mind once more. Instantly, he looked away.

“Stop it!” Harry said furiously, looking back to glare at Snape. “Stay out of my mind!”

“Then stop lying to me!”

“I’m not lying!”

“You’re hiding something!”

Harry hesitated and saw Snape’s eyes flash in triumph. He knew he’d just been outmaneuvered and felt a surge of outrage.

“So what if my memories are all of him?” Harry demanded. “What difference does it make? Why do you care?”

“Because it’s my job, Potter,” Snape snapped. “Because you can’t focus your mind when it is fixated on the Dark Lord. Now tell me why this attack was so significant to you.”

“No,” Harry said defiantly.

“I beg your pardon,” Snape said in a dangerously low voice.

“I said, no,” Harry answered, matching Snape’s tone.

Snape scowled and came around his desk to face Harry.

“Stay away from me!” Harry hissed.

“Potter, get hold of yourself,” Snape said angrily.

He took another step towards Harry, but Harry backed away. Snape’s eyes widened in surprise then narrowed appraisingly.

“Potter, what is wrong with you?” Snape was studying Harry closely now

Harry didn’t know how to answer. His heart was pounding and he had no idea why he felt so panicked. He swallowed and tried to calm down. Snape took a tentative step towards him as though he expected Harry to bolt like some skittish animal if he moved too quickly. In truth, Harry did feel like running, but he stood his ground as his professor took another slow step towards him. Snape was now positioned between Harry and the door. He folded his arms and frowned.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” Harry answered defensively.

“Aren’t you?” Snape sneered.

Harry looked away once more. He had all of his mental defenses in place, but even so he knew that Snape was far too close to seeing the dark fear lurking in his mind. Harry couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t admit that fear to anyone. Not to Snape and certainly not to himself.

“Look at me,” Snape ordered.

Harry felt a surge of anger and embraced it, allowing fury to banish every other emotion from his mind. He looked up and glared at Snape.

“No! I don’t want you in my mind anymore! I want some privacy! I’m tired of you poking around in my thoughts as if you had a right to be there! You don’t!”

Harry felt Snape’s mind touch his once more and he braced himself to fight the invasion, but the presence paused, as if unwilling to confront him, and then was gone. Snape’s expression didn’t change and his keen gaze continued to bore into Harry who had the sudden, awful impression that Snape could read his mind even without using Legilimency.

“I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” Snape said evenly. “Either you trust me, or you don’t.”

“Well, I don’t!” Harry snarled, wanting nothing more than to push Snape away and to stop the man from staring at him so intently. It worked. Though he didn’t move, Snape seemed to withdraw into himself and when he next spoke it was with his usual coldly aloof manner.

“Then you have learnt as much as I can teach you. I’m sure your evenings can be better spent elsewhere. Mine certainly can.”

“You’re stopping my lessons?” Harry asked, taken aback.

“I can’t continue them if you don’t trust me. Clearly you don’t have enough faith in my intentions to do so and I have neither the time nor inclination to prove myself to you.”

“If that’s the case then why did you even bother starting these lessons in the first place?” Harry snapped in frustration.

Snape tensed and his expression became unreadable. “As I recall, you asked me to.” Snape spoke calmly, without any emotion, but Harry glanced away, suddenly finding it impossible to look the man in the eyes.

“The choice is yours,” Snape continued in the same quiet, controlled tone. “Stay or go, but don’t waste my time.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Harry said in his own tightly controlled voice. Then he pushed past Snape and left the office without a backward glance.