Chapter 18- Passing the Test
Over the next few days Harry spent the majority of his free time in the library devouring any book about defensive techniques, spells of protection, fighting dark wizards, or anything else that would help him defeat Voldemort. It was perhaps the only time since he had started at Hogwarts that he had spent more time in the library than Hermione. The knowledge that he was the one who would have to kill Voldemort provided a motivation to study that classes and grades never had.
The prophecy occupied all his thoughts and attention to the point where everything else seemed unimportant and a waste of time�”other classes seemed dull and inconsequential now they were at war (what good would being able to turn a teapot into a bouquet of flowers be when you were facing a bloodthirsty Death Eater?). Even Quidditch practice was a distraction. He still loved playing and flying on his Firebolt (something he hadn’t been able to do for most of his fifth year), but couldn’t help thinking that he had more important things to do.
Each new day brought more bad news from the Daily Prophet. There had been 3 or 4 killings just in the first week, and the constant tension was beginning to wear on the students. Meal times in the Great Hall had once been happy occasions, full of excited talk and laughter, but they were now subdued and sober.
Oddly enough, Harry was almost glad to see this change in the school. For years he had lived with the shadow of Voldemort over him�”never feeling totally safe, always knowing Voldemort was out there, waiting for him�”and it was a bit of a relief to see the rest of the world having to deal with it too. Now they knew what is was like to be him.
He threw himself into Occlumency training with renewed vigor. After the battle at the ministry just a few months before he knew why it was crucial he be able to shut Voldemort out of his mind. He couldn’t shake the thought that if he had known Occlumency he never would have been tricked into going there and Sirius would still be alive…
On top of that, he was also immensely curious to see what was in Ravenclaw’s diary.
So it was Harry found himself in the headmaster’s office for his first real Occlumency lesson from Dumbledore.
“Welcome Harry. Welcome to the start of our adventure into your mind. Now, before we get started let us get some business out of the way. I am speaking, of course, of Professor Grendelhall and the Defense Against the Dark Arts club. You have spoken with her about the club, I presume?”
“Yes, we’re all set for next week.”
“Excellent. Tell me, what is your impression of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore asked, peering over the rims of his half-moon glasses.
Harry was about to say how intelligent and professional she was, but realized it would be absolutely futile to say anything but the truth.
“Er…she seems ok. Kind of quirky though, isn’t she?”
Dumbledore smiled. “I think ‘quirky’ is a more than adequate description of Grishelda, Harry,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “What I mean is do you think she’s up to the task of teaching the class? Will you be able to learn from and work with her in the DA?”
“Oh, yeah. She’ll be great,” Harry responded, finding it strange that the headmaster would be asking his opinion on staffing appointments. It was true though, he did think she would do a good job�”a practical, ‘get-your-wands-out’ type teacher was just what they needed, not the book wielding, theory-spewing type like that old hag Umbridge.
“One question though, sir. During our first class she mentioned something about Voldemort gathering dark creatures and wizards to form an army and attack the ministry. Is that true?” Harry had been thinking about it ever since the class. If in fact Voldemort was gathering an immense army it could only mean bad news.
Dumbledore stared silently at him for a moment. For an instant that lasted no longer than a blink Harry thought he saw weariness and exhaustion in the headmaster’s eyes. Then it was gone. “I’m afraid it is true, Harry. And I’ll be completely honest with you�”unless we get some help, either from the other magical races or from an outside source, he will most likely win.”
Harry listened with shock. Hearing the news from an eccentric ex-auror in Defense Against the Dark Arts was one thing, but to hear Dumbledore confirm it made it frighteningly real.
“But how could he…I mean, there’s so many of us…” he stammered out.
“Yes, there are. But we are not united. You see,” Dumbledore said as he stood and began pacing back and forth across the floor, “there is no way Voldemort could defeat the entire wizarding community in an open war. There are simply too many of us, and even at his fullest strength he would only be able to recruit a miniscule fraction of the population. No, his goal is to demoralize the public until there are only a few of us left willing to fight. This is a war of fear and intimidation. Fear is Voldemort’s primary weapon�”much like a boggart. He is very skilled at wielding its influence and unfortunately, it is working. In less than a year he will have gathered enough followers to challenge the ministry. If there are not enough willing to fight back, he will win.”
“And you think the Half-Blood Prince holds the key to turning the war?”
Dumbledore studied him for a second, then nodded. “He just might, Harry. He just might.”
“But we are not here to discuss the war. We are here to train you to close your mind to Voldemort. You will encounter him again, and when you do I have the feeling this skill will be crucial. Now, if you are ready?”
Harry took a few deep breaths to clear his mind. It wasn’t exactly easy to rid himself of emotion after being told that Voldemort was assembling an army of dark creatures to destroy humanity.
“Remember, a skilled Occlumens doesn’t have to force the intruder from his thoughts, but can show him whatever he desires. In other words, don’t attempt to repel me, but guide me to images and memories that are harmless or trivial.”
Taking a final breath, Harry nodded. Bracing himself mentally, he grit his teeth and looked into the headmaster’s eyes.
Almost immediately a chain of images came to his mind. They were faint and felt totally natural; as though he were recollecting the images on his own accord. It was a week ago and he was walking down the dim, stone corridor to the headmaster’s office. Draco Malfoy walked by, his pale white face sneering at Harry. The headmaster sat in front of him, bright eyes dancing in the old wrinkled face. He told Harry he had something to show him and made his way to a corner of the office that held a number of shelves. On the shelves were some potions…
Realizing that this was the headmaster’s intrusion, Harry focused his will on blocking the images from his mind. If he was unable to hide Ravenclaw’s diary from his thoughts the headmaster wouldn’t let him read it. Having prepared a number of neutral, harmless images the night before for their meeting, Harry forced the image of his dorm room into his mind. He thought of it at night; dark, cool, Ron and Seamus snoring peacefully. He sensed the small whisper that was Dumbledore’s presence pull back, as though it were enjoying the memory with him. Soon he couldn’t sense it at all. The curtain on his four-poster bed fluttered in a slight breeze, the smell of rain and parchment in the air, the glint of moonlight reflecting off of Neville’s wand on the other side of the room…
The image of the moonlight glimmering on the wand shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly. Now the light was reflecting off of an old, silver necklace. The necklace hung on the wall on the far side of the room. The room was also dark and cool. Long tables stretched across it. An old man was walking across the room in front of him. An old man with a long beard and a pointed hat. He walked towards an old, empty bookcase…
Harry jerked the thought of the headmaster’s vault forcibly from his mind, aware that he had almost been caught. He mustn’t think of the book. Attempting to cast it far from his mind, he replaced it with another memory he had prepared. The library. He was sitting in a far corner of the library. Books were scattered on the table all around him. He was reading about vampires and how to repel them. He shut the book in exasperation. It was Voldemort he had to know about, not vampires. Picking up the next book in the pile, he examined the cover: Dark Creatures of the Middle East by Chadwick Mildenhall. The cover was a dark purple and was slightly worn. It reminded him of another book, one with a midnight blue cover and silver writing…
“Errggghh!” Harry growled as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the headmaster. Somehow he couldn’t. Their eyes were locked together, as if there were an invisible bond connecting them. Desperate to break the link he shouted out the first spell that came to mind.
“Reducto!”
There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood. Immediately the link was broken and Harry found he could tear his gaze away. Panting from the exertion, he looked up at Dumbledore and was surprised to see half of his desk smashed into the ground.
“Well Harry, pulverizing a desk isn’t the most subtle way to get a legilimens out of your head, but it definitely does the trick,” he said serenely as he flicked his wand at the damaged portion of the desk. “Reparo.” Immediately the desk became whole again.
“I knew you were about to see the book…it’s all I could think of to do,” he explained bitterly, upset that he hadn’t been able to shut the memory out of his mind.
“Perfectly understandable. Such a reaction may accomplish your aim, but may not always be the best option, especially in situations where secrecy is imperative. An action like that shows the legilimens that you are aware of his intrusion into your thoughts. That is something you must keep secret. It also confirms to the legilimens that he has hit on an important memory. He would then wait until your guard is down and extort the memory from you with great ease, or, in the case of Lord Voldemort, simply use torture until he was able to rip the memory from your anguished mind.” Harry shuddered.
“Now, let’s try again and see if you can’t hide the memory with a little more…finesse.”
They spent the next 40 minutes practicing, Dumbledore giving various pointers as they went along. It was amazing how much the old wizard could see: what Harry had eaten for breakfast that morning, conversations he had had with Hermione a week before; even Harry’s feelings were open to him like a scroll of parchment. After one particularly frustrating encounter the headmaster said, “Be patient, Harry. You can’t expect yourself to be the best at everything, although I know you do,” then looked at him significantly. It was a scary feeling.
After 5 or 6 more practices he finally was able to deflect the headmaster’s probing, showing him nothing more revealing than his Herbology lesson from a couple days before. His head was sore from the exertion, but inside he felt pride and a sense of achievement. Harry was fairly certain the headmaster had taken it pretty easily on him, but still, he had hidden the memory of Ravenclaw’s diary from him, which was more than he had ever accomplished working with Snape. All the practicing seemed to be paying off…
With his mind already thinking about the diary and what secrets it may hold, Harry looked expectantly at Dumbledore and asked, “Well, did I pass? Can I read the diary?”
The headmaster looked back at him with a small smile. “I suppose you may Harry, you’ve made excellent progress. Come with me.” Dumbledore led Harry to the corner of his office that held the shelves with the strange, multi-colored potions. Just before saying the magical words he looked at Harry.
“Though I must remind you again that you are to tell no one about the Headmaster’s Vault. And believe me, I will know if you have,” he said with a meaningful look over his spectacles. Harry had experienced enough with the headmaster to know how true that actually was.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me my little precaution,” Dumbledore said as he waved his wand at Harry and said “Confutio”. Again Harry’s world turned silent as the headmaster said the words to open the magical door to the vault. Harry shivered as they walked through the cascading light and the two made their way towards the plain looking, metal door. Dumbledore took the small, circular key from his robes, undid the lock, held open the door for Harry, then waved his wand and Harry’s hearing returned. His heart beating with excitement he walked to the far side of the vault and waited patiently as the headmaster conjured the book from the old, empty bookcase.
“Have a seat,” said the headmaster, motioning to the empty desk in front of Harry. Harry sat.
“Now, there are a few things you should know about this book, Harry,” Dumbledore said slowly as he circled around the desk to stand next to him. “It was, of course, written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself and is irreplaceable. If anything were to happen to this book, I imagine the past headmasters would be so infuriated they would seal me out of my office and never speak to me again. So unless you want me to take up residence in the Gryffindor common room, I suggest you take good care of it.
“Second, this book was written a thousand years ago. Language, even for wizards, is an alive and constantly changing thing, and I highly doubt you would be able to understand even a sentence of Ravenclaw’s English if you heard it. Luckily, the book has a charm cast on it much like a pensieve or Tom Riddle’s diary did. Therefore you will be able to actually experience the events written in this book, though the charm is much older and you will be confined to the experience of the author. It will be difficult when you start, but as you continue reading the charm becomes active and you will find it much easier.
“Finally, the legend of the Half-Blood Prince is almost as old as Hogwarts itself. Many of the headmasters and headmistresses have searched for him, only to encounter darkness, confusion, and countless dead-ends. I am one of them. Good luck on your journey.” He said the last sentence with a mysterious, almost mischievous look in his eye that made Harry think something bigger was going on here. Before he could question him, the headmaster spun around and strode towards the open door of the vault.
“I will come fetch you when you have finished the first chapter. Happy reading Harry!”
Harry watched him go, slightly confused but more curious than ever about what was in the book. Hand trembling slightly, he reached out and brought it in front of him. He ran his fingers along the corner of its midnight blue cover. Taking a deep breath he opened it up and began to read.