Chapter 3- Changes
True to their word, Ron and Hermione were waiting by Harry's bed when he woke up the next morning. Sleepily, he found his glasses on the bedside table and sat up.
"Morning, Harry!" Hermione said brightly. In one hand she had a blueberry muffin, in the other a small but rather thick book entitled Wizarding Defense Lawyers: Defending the Oppressed.
Ron gave a preoccupied grunt. He was feverishly scribbling on a length of parchment; it was most likely a History of Magic essay. He tended to leave those until the last moment.
"Dumbledore said he'd come here today before Madam Pomfrey let you out," Hermione informed him, "and McGonagall said to let you know that she would try to talk all of your teachers into giving you enough time to turn in your homework."
"That's good. Thanks, Hermione," Harry muttered as the bell rang.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed in frustration as he stuffed his half-finished essay and quill in his bag. "Here's another D-"
"Well, Ron," Hermione interjected acidly, "maybe if you would do your homework right after you were assigned it, instead of goofing around all weekend playing wizard's chess and calling random Quidditch practices just because you're co-Captain now-"
"Hey," Ron interrupted hotly, "we need those practices! The new Chasers have to improve by Saturday's match against Ravenclaw, and Ginny wanted to practice Seeking-"
Both fell silent at the look on Harry's face. Both Dumbledore and a stern, although reluctant, McGonagall had agreed that it would be best if Harry stayed on the ground. So his co-Captaincy - the other Captain was Katie Bell - had been given to Ron, and his Seeker position to Ginny Weasley. She had had to leave her Chaser spot, which had left Katie and Seamus Finnigan with an opening for a new Chaser to train and bring up to standard. Harry hated not being able to play, but deep down he knew Dumbledore and McGonagall were right. But if he didn't get to play next year, his final year at Hogwarts, he honestly didn't see any real reason to come back. Not only that, but who needed N.E.W.T.s when there was a very good chance that the prophecy would play out in Voldemort's favor?
"Don't worry about it." Harry waved his concerned friends off. "Go to class."
They waved goodbye and left, leaving Harry to his thoughts and the breakfast Madam Pomfrey had brought him.
"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey said softly, rousing Harry out of his light sleep. "The Headmaster is here to see you."
Harry sat up and straightened his glasses.
"Hello, Harry," Albus Dumbledore said as he sat down next to Harry's bed. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied. "I think Madam Pomfrey slipped some Dreamless Sleep into my potion last night."
"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I believe Professor Snape made
that particular potion stronger, specifically for you. I suspect that he feared Voldemort would attempt to break through your weakened defenses again - which brings us to the reason we are both here. What happened in Professor Snape's class Monday?"
Harry sighed. He had been trying to puzzle that out for the past two days. "I'm not sure, sir. I'd been feeling ill ever since I woke up, and my scar started burning in Potions. It kept getting worse, and then everything went black, I couldn’t keep up my Occlumency barriers, and I hurt all over. It felt like it did when Voldemort possessed me. All I could feel was him. Do you think he was trying to possess me again?" he asked quietly.
Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment, and sighed heavily. "Yes, Harry, I suspect he was."
"How is he able to do that? The closest he can be to me is either Hogsmeade or the Forbidden Forest. I was in the dungeons."
Dumbledore sighed again. Every wrinkle on his tired face was illuminated in the late morning sun that was streaming through the window by Harry's bed. "I imagine he's getting stronger. He's very interested in ancient magic now, and he's most likely come across a few more spells that strengthen him. Or he's made a few of his own..."
“Then how am I supposed to defeat him?" Harry asked heatedly. "How am I supposed to defeat him when he's getting stronger everyday, but I still haven't got a bloody clue about the power I'm supposed to have?" He was shouting now. "There's no way I can beat him! I can't fight him! I can't fight him like you did back in June! I don't know how!"
“Actually, Harry, you can,” Dumbledore said with a bite of impatience. “You have the determination, willpower, and skills, along with a bit more instruction, to defeat Voldemort. And I do believe that you do know what power you have that he doesn’t. Think “ what is the one thing that you can do that Tom Riddle cannot?”
Harry gaped, speechless. What could he, a sixteen-year-old Hogwarts student, do that the Darkest wizard in wizarding history could not? He laid back on his pillows, thinking about all of his encounters with Lord Voldemort. “Well,” he said tentatively, “I suppose he can’t understand… good feelings, like sympathy, and friendship, and … love?”
“Yes!” Dumbledore cried, “Love! Voldemort cannot understand love, just as you cannot understand his infatuation with power and gaining by any means.” The Headmaster looked Harry straight in the eyes. “You do have the ability to defeat Voldemort, and not just because the prophecy says so.”
Harry sat there, his mind racing. “Professor, you said something about more instruction?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, I’ll get your schedule from Professor McGonagall, I’ll try to arrange it so that you can have extra Defence lessons during your free periods, as well as some extra lessons with me in the evenings, in addition to your Occlumency lessons. I think those will have to be taken over again by Professor Snape “ I have my own duties, as well,” he added sternly as Harry opened his mouth furiously.
"Er... yes, sir." Harry replied, feeling abashed and relieved at the same time. He’d worry about Snape later.
"Good," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I'll ask around at the Order meeting tomorrow night to see about possibly finding you some extra instructors. When you come by Saturday morning we can figure out your new schedule."
Dumbledore had finally allowed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny (to Mrs. Weasley's great dismay) to attend the Order meetings this past summer, and Harry had gone up to Dumbledore's office the morning after every Order meeting since school started and watched the meeting in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Dumbledore would in turn answer Harry's questions, and later Harry would fill in his friends. "By the way, Harry, I've also got a special permit for you to learn Apparition from Minister Bones. We will work on that as well in the future."
"Thank you, sir," Harry croaked. He was quite shocked at this turn of events.
"I would prefer that none of this was happening at all, but we must take what life gives us in order to live life fully."
The irony of Dumbledore's words was not lost on Harry. "Have a good day, Harry," Dumbledore said as he strode out of the Hospital Wing.
The rest of the day Harry alternated between dozing off and thinking about his conversation with Dumbledore. Bloody hell, he thought, Dumbledore should have had me in advanced Defence lessons as soon as I set foot on Hogwarts grounds in first year. Everything would've turned out differently... Cedric might still be alive... and Sirius...
The bell signalling the end of classes rang, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered the Hospital Wing about ten minutes later.
"Hey," he greeted them all.
"Hey," Ginny replied. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Where have you been?" Harry answered.
"I've had an impossible mountain of homework. Bloody O.W.L.s," she grumbled. Over the summer, Harry had gotten to know Ginny a lot better. She had helped him with his grief over Sirius, and they had become better friends. "Here's all of your homework," Hermione said, digging a huge pile of notes and assignments out of her bag and setting them down with a thump! on Harry's bedside table. "I've collected them all week, and you can use my notes. Maybe you can get started tonight."
"Er... yeah, Hermione. Thanks." Harry was definitely not going to do any work tonight, no matter how much Hermione nagged him to get an early start.
The four friends sat around chatting about school and doing homework. The other three had been quite interested in Harry's conversation with Dumbledore.
Madam Pomfrey came over around five o'clock, and proceeded to run tests on Harry. She gave him another orange potion to take - minus the sleeping ingredients, Harry hoped - and another to take before he went to bed. She put a smaller bandage on his scar - it was still bleeding a bit - and pronounced him fit to leave. "Mr. Potter, I do not want to see you in here until you need another vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion. This bed of yours needs a break," she said, her tone stern, but her eyes were shining kindly.
Harry grinned. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey." He changed out of his hospital wing-issue pajamas and into some clothes Ron had brought him. He gathered his things and the group made their way to the Great Hall. As they walked in, the students seemed to turn around at once. Everyone was whispering to each other and pointed at him.
Harry rolled his eyes. "They should be used to me being laid up in the hospital wing after something strange happens," he said impatiently.
"Well, at least some of them are concerned about you this year," Hermione said diplomatically.
"Yeah," Ron cut in. "Besides, you’re not only the Boy-Who-Lived, but now you're the Boy-Who-Was-Right-All-Along, too!"
Harry groaned at the bad pun. "Thanks, Ron."
They made their way over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry was immediately swamped with hugs, handshakes, and questions before he could even put his stuff down. He could barely get a bite to eat. Soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were making their way over, too. Ron just sat and smirked in between shovelling food into his mouth. Hermione looked sympathetic, and Ginny squeezed his hand.
The crowd dispersed, and Harry could eat in peace. Halfway through his steak and kidney pudding, he was interrupted by none other than Professor Snape.
"Potter," he said curtly, "Remedial Potions, seven o’clock. Is that a problem?”
"Er... no... professor," Harry added hastily. Why was Snape so keen to have an Occlumency lesson right after Harry was released from the hospital wing?
"Good. Don’t be late." Snape replied shortly. He turned around and strode off as quickly as he had arrived.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked, his mouth open.
"I expect he wants to talk to you about why your Occlumency barriers failed," Hermione said. "It is rather strange though," she added thoughtfully.
"Yeah," Harry said faintly, returning to his dinner.
At half past six, Harry reluctantly left his friends in the common room for the dungeons. He had the right, he thought, to be wary of regular Occlumency lessons with Snape; he had had few lessons with him after returning to Headquarters (for which Harry was extremely grateful) the past summer, but even after mastering the basics with Emmeline Vance, Harry was still hard-pressed to completely Occlude Snape from his mind. About ten minutes later, Harry paused, just outside of the open doorway to Snape's office. Snape was at his desk, grading papers.
Glancing up, Snape muttered, "Come in, sit, and close the door."
Harry shut the door quietly and sat down in one of the stiff, black leather chairs in front of Snape's desk. After a moment Snape scrawled what looked like a D on the unfortunate person's paper and put the stack of parchment in his desk. Looking up he said, "Well, stand up, wand at the ready, Potter, you know the routine.”
“Why are we already starting Occlumency lessons? Sir?” Harry added hastily as Snape opened his mouth. “I just got out of the hospital wing today, did Professor Dumbledore ask you to start the lessons again tonight?” He asked, standing up reluctantly.
“Potter, what the Headmaster and I discuss is none of your business.” Snape said smoothly. “I merely thought it prudent to test your defenses, weakened as I’m sure they were by the Dark Lord.”
“So, is Voldemort up to - ”
“Potter, I assume you want to get this over quickly, I’m sure the Headmaster will inform of anything he feels you need to know. Wand at the ready… Legilimens!”
Caught unawares, memory after memory flew before his mind’s eye: he was eight, terrified as Dudley and his cronies got closer and closer, chasing him across the elementary school playground… He was ten, and Uncle Vernon was shoving him as hard as he could into his cupboard, shouting about no meals for a week… He was standing in shock on the Quidditch pitch, hardly able to believe that Lockhart had just removed the bones from his arm… He wsa lying on his bed, fury coursing through his veins like acid as he thought about Sirius Black, his parents’ supposed best friend and betrayer…
The familiar ache in his chest at the thought of Sirius alerted him to the fact that Snape was still in his mind. Gathering up all his strength and envisioning an impenetrable barrier, he pushed Snape out of his memories.
He was on his hands and knees in front of Snape’s desk, his palms and knees aching and his scar throbbing dully.
“That was pathetic, Potter,” Snape said coolly as he watched Harry pick himself up from the floor. “You nearly lost control, you aren’t trying hard enough. Your skills have regressed to nearly the level you were at last year - ”
“I am trying,” Harry interrupted angrily, flaring up at once. “It’s not like I want Voldemort in my head.”
“Haven’t I told you not to say the Dark Lord’s name?” Snape hissed dangerously.
“Haven’t you figured out that I’m not going to stop?” Harry retorted furiously.
“Wand at the ready, Potter,” Snape bit out through clenched teeth. He looked ready to hex Harry on the spot. “Legilimens!”
His screams of agony did not block out the words or the flash of green light as Cedric fell to the ground heavily… Sirius was falling through the stone archway, a mixture of fear and surprise on his face… He was sitting in Professor Dumbledore’s office, watching numbly as the ghostly figure of Professor Trelawney sank back into the swirling depths of the Pensieve…
He was on his knees, clutching his throbbing head. Exhausted, his brain aching fiercely, Harry just wanted to go up to his dormitory and sleep until next Tuesday.
“Potter. Get up.” Snape had come around his desk and was now surveying him dispassionately. “Go back to Gryffindor Tower, you are obviously too weak to focus.”
Harry glared at him as he tried to stand up, but his legs weren’t ready to support his weight. He toppled as Snape grabbed his arm harshly and pulled him upright.
Harry swayed as Snape flitted across the room, apparently searching for something on the shelves. Finally Snape pushed a vial of pale pink potion into his hand. “Take it, it’s a Mind-Clearing Potion, can’t have Dumbledore’s Golden Boy collapsing in the corridors. Be sure to practice your Occlumency exercises before you go to sleep. I’m sure your fellow Gryffindors are getting rather tired of waking up to your screams.” Snape paused at the door. You can make up your missed assignments Saturday morning after you meet with the Headmaster, Potter.”
Snape swept out of the room with a cold smirk on his face, leaving Harry standing there in the middle of his office, his white face blotchy with anger, trembling as he clutched the vial of potion tightly.