A Past Reclaimed by nuw255
Chapter Notes: Why is Harry’s scar hurting for the first time in over a year?
“He’s angry,” Harry moaned through clenched teeth as he writhed on the floor with his hands clamped tightly over his scar. After an eternity, the pain began to subside a little and he managed to choke out, “He knows what happened today. He’s furious!”
“What was he after, Harry?” Hermione asked gently as she knelt beside him. “Do you know why he sent the Death Eaters to Hogwarts?”
“Me,” Harry croaked. “He wanted me.”
Hermione stifled a gasp, while Ginny ran a soothing hand along his arm.
“I think that Harry and I may need to take a little detour to the Headmaster’s office,” Remus stated in a calm but authoritative voice. “You three, however, need to get yourselves into your common room before you get into any more trouble.”
Ron and Ginny both protested immediately, but after a short, heated argument, Hermione finally succeeded in convincing them that Remus would take good care of Harry, and that Harry probably needed some time to himself at the moment anyway. As Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, his friends wished him well before unsealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and clambering inside.
“Feeling better?” Remus asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Harry answered, still slightly out of breath. “It’s not hurting much at all now.”
“Good,” Remus nodded. “I won’t have to carry you, then.” He led the way down the corridors to the Headmaster’s office, and Harry was only mildly surprised to discover that Dumbledore was standing near the entrance, waiting for them.
“Good morning, Remus; Harry,” Dumbledore said warmly as he gestured for them to precede him onto the moving spiral staircase that led to his office. “The portraits have just informed me that you were on your way here. How may I be of service?”
Harry sat down heavily in his usual chair across the desk from the Headmaster; Remus pulled up a second chair and sat down next to him as he cleared his throat nervously.
“Voldemort’s angry,” Harry blurted. “He already knows what happened here today.”
Professor Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, but he gave no other indication of being the least bit surprised. “Indeed,” he muttered to himself. Looking up at Harry after a long moment of contemplation, he asked, “Did you have a vision?”
Harry shook his head. “No sir. I was walking back to Gryffindor Tower with Remus and my friends, and my scar just exploded with pain and I could feel Voldemort’s anger.” He swallowed hard before adding, “The only other thing I could tell was that he was angry because they didn’t get me. I’m the reason they came.”
Dumbledore nodded very slowly; his face was grave, and the twinkle in his eyes was conspicuous only by its absence. “I have it on good authority that Lord Voldemort is determined to eliminate the ‘Chosen One’ before stepping up any of his other activities. That is the reason we must keep you well-protected: not only because we know he is after you, but also because his single-mindedness is preventing him from doing as much damage as he could otherwise.”
“Hang on; so you’re saying by just staying alive I’m keeping a bunch of people safe?” Harry asked in disbelief. “But there have been attacks, even back when I was missing.”
“But not nearly as many as there would have been if Lord Voldemort had not been so determined to find you before doing anything else,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Tell me, Harry, other than today, when was the last time you felt pain in your scar?”
When had it been? It hadn’t hurt him all last term, and he couldn’t remember it ever happening when he was at St. Brutus’s. “Fifth year, I think,” Harry answered after a moment.
Dumbledore nodded again. “As I had suspected.” He sighed and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Because you never once mentioned your scar hurting during the time you were under the Memory Charm, I had assumed - correctly, I see - that you did not remember ever having had such an experience. This, I reasoned, was because Lord Voldemort had begun using Occlumency to keep you from learning any of his secrets. I fear that I was gravely mistaken.”
“What do you mean, Professor?” Harry asked quietly. He cast a sideways glance at Remus, but the older man remained silent, waiting for Dumbledore’s answer.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. “It means that we must resume your Occlumency training. I realize that your previous experience with this branch of magic was far from pleasant, but it is imperative that we keep Lord Voldemort out of your mind.”
Although he wasn’t looking forward to going back to Occlumency lessons with Snape, Harry couldn’t exactly disagree with the Headmaster’s conclusion. Remus, on the other hand, apparently could.
“Surely there must be another way,” he insisted, speaking up for the first time. “It’s been over a year since the last time your scar bothered you, right Harry?”
Harry nodded.
“Yes, but why is it bothering him again now?” Dumbledore asked thoughtfully. “It is most unusual; if Lord Voldemort was blocking him before, why would he choose this particular moment to lower his guard?”
Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the Headmaster’s piercing gaze. “Er- Does it really matter why Voldemort’s not blocking the connection anymore?” he asked hesitantly.
Dumbledore shook himself as though he was awakening from a daydream, but he didn’t answer Harry’s question. Instead, he turned to Remus and murmured, “What if Lord Voldemort wasn’t the one blocking the connection in the first place?”
Remus’ eyes widened ever so slightly, and his head snapped around to peer at Harry. “When did you say was the last time your scar hurt before today?” he asked urgently.
“Fifth year,” Harry answered without any hesitation.
Slowly - almost painfully slowly - Remus turned back to face the Headmaster. Their eyes locked for a long moment before they both breathed, “The Memory Charm.”
“What?” Harry asked in confusion. Remus and Dumbledore both started slightly, as though they had forgotten he was there. “How could a Memory Charm block my connection with Voldemort?”
Dumbledore turned to face him as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “A Memory Charm can be a very powerful thing, Harry, as you know from personal experience.”
Harry nodded grimly, signaling for the Headmaster to continue.
“What you may not know is that Memory Charms block certain parts of the mind from being accessed. It appears that when Dolores Umbridge placed her Memory Charm on you, she not only blocked your memories of the Wizarding world, she also unwittingly blocked the portion of your mind that houses your connection with Lord Voldemort.”
That statement was practically begging for another question, so Harry asked it without hesitation. “So why can’t you just block off that part of my mind again, and then I wouldn’t have to learn Occlumency?”
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “If only it were so simple,” he sighed. “Using magic to modify a person’s memory is difficult enough in and of itself, but the experimentation that would be necessary in order to find and block your connection with Lord Voldemort without damaging your memory would be prohibitively so. Unless, by some amazing stroke of luck, we were able to locate and block the connection within the first couple of tries, we would risk causing you permanent memory loss.” Harry felt the blood drain from his face at that prospect.
“I’ll learn Occlumency,” he managed to choke out.
Dumbledore smiled sadly at him. “I thought you might say that.” His expression brightened as he added, “There is good news, however. It is still painfully clear to me how wrong I was to entrust your Occlumency training to Professor Snape in your fifth year, Harry, and for that I am truly sorry. I assumed that he would be able to get past his grudge against your father, but... well, it’s best not to dwell on such things. Suffice it to say that I have decided to teach you myself this time around; that should help us avoid any more... misunderstandings.”
Harry grinned, hardly able to believe his luck. He would have been willing to study Occlumency with Snape again if it meant keeping Voldemort out of his head, but the prospect of learning from Dumbledore was so much less daunting that he wanted to laugh out loud with relief.
“Thank you, Albus,” Remus said quietly.
Dumbledore nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Harry, why don’t we start meeting here on Tuesday and Thursday evenings at seven o’clock? That ought to give your supper plenty of time to settle before we get started.”
“That sounds fine,” Harry replied. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Thank you, sir. For everything.”
“Think nothing of it, Harry,” Dumbledore reassured him with a kind smile. “For now, though, you need to be getting back to your common room before the Hogwarts rumor mill starts convincing everyone that you were killed this morning.”
Harry managed a half-hearted smile as he left the office with Remus; that was exactly the sort of story he expected to be circulating when he arrived back in the common room. What he did not expect was to be mobbed with questions about the battle the second the portrait hole swung open.
“Harry!”
“Harry, where...?”
“...happened?”
“...kill three Death Eaters?”
“...You-Know-Who...?”
“Shut up!” Harry roared at the large group of younger students as he looked around desperately for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “You people are worse than the press.” The room fell eerily silent.
“Did you really die?” asked a wide-eyed first-year boy. One of his friends smacked him in the back of the head as Harry pushed his way through the crowd.
“Okay, break it up,” called Seamus Finnigan as he began shunting the excited younger students aside.
“Over here, Harry,” Ron hollered from his position near the fireplace. As the crowd began to disperse and Harry drew nearer to his friend, he could see that Hermione and Ginny were there waiting for him as well. As soon as there was a clear path, Ginny rushed forward and threw her arms around him.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
Harry nodded as he whispered, “I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong,” into her hair. He held her for a moment longer before pulling away and leading her back to one of the large armchairs near the fire.
“It’s all right,” Harry said in response to Hermione’s worried look. “Come over here and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The four friends settled into two armchairs - Harry and Ginny sharing one, and Ron and Hermione sharing the other - and Harry quietly filled the others in on the details of his conversation with Dumbledore.
“I hadn’t even thought about the fact that your scar wasn’t hurting you anymore,” Ron said after he had finished.
“None of us had,” said Hermione. “We were just so glad to have you back, and then we were all so concerned with your memory loss that I guess we just didn’t think about it. I’m sorry, Harry.”
Harry waved away her apology. “My memory’s been back for a couple of weeks now, and I never thought about it either. Besides, it’s not as if we’d have done anything even if we had realized; Dumbledore thought Voldemort was blocking me, remember?”
Hermione nodded.
“We just wish we could help you,” Ginny said softly.
“You are helping me,” Harry replied. “You’re all still here. You all went with me this morning. That’s all I really need.”
“Really?” she asked, looking up at him with those big brown eyes that he had been able to lose himself in ever since he first dreamed about them so long ago.
“Well, I might want a little more than that from you,” he whispered in her ear, smiling to himself when her cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, drawing his attention back to her and Ron, “did you ask Professor Dumbledore how Peeves was able to survive the Killing Curse? If he has some sort of protection that we could take advantage of....”
Harry shook his head. “I’d forgotten all about it, honestly. I was too worried about my scar. I can ask him about it on Tuesday, though.”
“Good idea,” Ron put in. “Try and find out about that move Remus used to get downstairs, too. That was seriously cool!”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I really never would have expected.”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “That was more the sort of stunt I’d expect out of my dad or Sirius, not Remus.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Well, it is true, but I was talking about Tonks.”
“I know,” Ginny gasped, grinning at her. “Who would’ve thought?” Harry and Ron shared a confused look.
“Er, did we miss something?” Ron asked.
“Of course you did,” Ginny replied with a smirk.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice why he jumped off of the staircase like that,” said Hermione.
“Well, Tonks had just gotten hit with the Cruciatus Curse,” Harry began. “But I still don’t-”
“He fancies her,” Ginny whispered dramatically. Harry’s eyes widened as he remembered the sight of Remus and Tonks clinging to one another just after the battle had ended.
“You think so?” he asked.
“Of course he does,” said Ron. “That’s not news. I’ve known it for ages.”
“Sure you have, Ron,” Hermione laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.
They continued laughing and speculating about Remus and Tonks’ relationship as they whiled away the time with multiple games of Wizard chess and Exploding Snap. Since no one was allowed out until the Aurors had confirmed that the threat had been eliminated, all of Gryffindor house spent the rest of the day either in their dormitories or in the very crowded common room. By the time evening arrived, Harry was only too happy to fall into bed.
As he lay there in the dark, however, he quickly realized that sleep was going to be impossible. Every time he shut his eyes, he remembered dreaming about long corridors ending in locked doors for much of his fifth year. Those dreams had been planted by Lord Voldemort, and now he knew that Voldemort had access to his mind once again. On an intellectual level, of course, he knew that Voldemort could enter his mind just as easily when he was awake as when he was sleeping, but somehow it felt just a little bit safer to remain conscious rather than risk dreaming through the eyes of his sworn enemy. Round and round these thoughts swirled in his head until finally, sometime after midnight, exhaustion overtook him and he slipped into a fitful slumber.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that the students were allowed to leave their common rooms. Harry had never looked forward to Potions class so much in his life; anything - even class with Snape - was better than spending another minute locked in Gryffindor Tower with the entire population of the house. He and Ginny arrived in the dungeon a few minutes early and walked directly to their shared desk, deliberately ignoring the Slytherins’ whispers as they passed and began quietly unpacking their ingredients.
Soon, the sound of the classroom door slamming shut announced the arrival of Professor Snape. To Harry’s relief, the entire lesson was spent stirring and adding ingredients to their Eye of the Maiden potions. By the time class was over, he noted with satisfaction that his and Ginny’s gray potion was beginning to take on a pinkish tint. They would still need a few more class periods to complete it, but it was coming along nicely just the same. Even more satisfying, however, was the fleeting look of anger that passed over Snape’s face when he checked on their progress. He had hidden the emotion quickly by rearranging his face into a sneer, but the vein in his forehead had continued pulsing ominously as he stalked away.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Ginny announced as they ascended the stairs from the dungeon.
“Nah,” Harry agreed. “I’m starting to worry about Snape, though. The way he bottles up all that anger can’t be healthy.”
“Wait a minute,” Ginny laughed. “Are you worried about Snape’s health now? I thought you were trying to pop a blood vessel in his head!”
Harry shook his head sheepishly. “I still think that would be funny, but- I don’t know; I just don’t want to make him have a heart attack and die or something. Because that really would be my fault, and I don’t ever want to have to feel like I owe Snape anything. That’s how he feels about my dad, and look what it’s done to him.” He shuddered involuntarily. “I definitely don’t want to turn into that.”
“We’re agreed on that one,” she chuckled. “What do you think we’ll be doing in Charms today?”
“Pretending to kill cute little bunny rabbits; what else?”
Nothing interesting happened in Charms until halfway through the lesson. They were still working on the False Death Charm, and so far nobody had gotten any results, so Harry was as surprised as everyone else when he called out, “Moreproba!” for what felt like the five millionth time and red light leapt from his wand. His rabbit toppled over on the desk and lay still.
“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, hurrying over to inspect his work. “Five points to Gryffindor.” Harry gave him a hand up, and soon the tiny professor was bent over the rabbit, examining it closely.
“Put your hand here,” he instructed, pointing to the rabbit’s chest. Harry obeyed, and was surprised to feel a very slow but steady heartbeat. “The heartbeat has slowed considerably, but it is still there. Your spell is somewhere between a common Stunner and a true False Death Charm. Keep working at it, and you’ll soon be there.” With that, he revived the rabbit, hopped nimbly down from the desk, and resumed making his rounds of the classroom.
“Nice work,” Ginny murmured in congratulations as soon as the professor had left. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I didn’t notice anything I did differently, did you?”
Ginny shook her head. “Moreproba!” Nothing happened. In fact, nothing else noteworthy happened for the rest of the lesson, as not even Harry was able to reproduce his previous results with the spell.