Chapter 5- A Fairly Useless Lesson
One bright spot in the drudgery that was sixth year was Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was far from perfect: the class was not completely out of control, but was a fair approximation. Llewellyn’s attempts at keeping his students quiet had improved somewhat the day after McGonagall had passed by the loud and chatty class; undoubtedly some wisdom had been imparted to the young teacher posthaste. Severus had to wonder why, in the current climate, anyone who actually wanted to learn Defence at the N.E.W.T. level would spend the entire class period babbling and generally paying as little attention as possible. It seemed that his fellow students did so just because they could.
Nonetheless, whereas Llewellyn had little control over his students, he had impressive control over his subject matter and, sitting in the front of the classroom and ignoring everything going on behind him, Severus managed to learn a great deal of useful information, not to mention an abundance of superfluous knowledge on the Dark Arts in Africa and Eastern Europe. So far the interdisciplinary work with Slughorn appeared to be going nowhere -- Llewellyn gave occasional, anxiously optimistic updates about how Professor Slughorn was “still thinking about it” -- but the class itself was truly an advanced course pertaining to the Dark Arts.
Even so, Severus was surprised one day to look up at the board and see the words “Cruciatus Curse” up there in Llewellyn’s untidy scrawl. He looked down at the syllabus, but there was nothing about the Cruciatus Curse, only the topic “Compartmentalisation and Desensitisation,” which was easy enough to decipher but which, in the context, meant nothing. So far, no professor had reviewed the Unforgiveables in anything other than the most desultory manner, though, so Severus was interested to see how Llewellyn would manage it. When the class commenced and Professor Llewellyn clapped his hands together and announced, “Right, the Cruciatus Curse,” with his usual eager grin, the room was unnaturally silent.
“This is a pleasant change of pace; maybe I should teach the Cruciatus Curse all the time,” he observed lightly, looking around the quiet room, and then went on to announce, “As with our other lessons, we will begin with Theory and move on to a Practicum. There’s a lot of theory for this one, so we’ll start the Practicum tomorrow.” The blessed silence was broken as the class buzzed with interest over practical teaching of an Unforgiveable Curse at Hogwarts.
“Quiet please, quiet,” he called out, in his usual almost-pleading fashion. “Today’s lesson is going to require a great deal of focus, so I’d like you to start focusing now. In essence, this is what the lesson is about.” Avery made a disgusted sound and said something to Rosier.
“I won’t ask who is familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, either on the giving or the receiving end,” he stated. “Hopefully none of you. I will tell you that, the world being what it is lately, unless you flee the country there is a fair chance that you may need to defend yourself against this Curse or others like it. It is a favorite of the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
Avery’s hand shot up, and before he could ask anything, Llewellyn preempted him by stating darkly, “And yes, you should still take this seriously even if you get along like a house on fire with the Death Eaters. It sounds like a popular method of maintaining discipline in the ranks. Have I answered your question?” Avery scowled at him, but his hand had indeed gone back down.
Llewellyn moved on to the inevitable use of the Socratic method, which seemed to be a favorite of his, leaving Severus wondering whether Socrates’s students had also babbled endlessly to each other while the great philosopher was trying to teach. “Now then,” he began, “in case anyone is unfamiliar with it, can someone tell me the effect of the Cruciatus Curse?”
“To cause intolerable pain,” Potter answered, being both bright and a show-off.
“I’ll tell you who the intolerable pain is,” Mulciber murmured to Avery, and the two of them started snickering. Severus could feel his shoulders shaking with laughter, even as he tried with everything in him to remain serious. He didn’t want Lily, who was sitting a few rows back, to see him laughing at something Mulciber had said, least of all an obvious insult to Potter, whom she had always been far too ready to defend. And somehow he didn’t want Llewellyn to think that Severus was one of the idiotic masses who preferred talking in class to actually learning something. None of the professors seemed to be warm and friendly to him the way some of them were to, for example, Potter, who appeared to be highly charming to his elders. But they didn’t dislike Severus, and he preferred it to remain that way. He took a few deep breaths and went back to being a model student.
“To cause intolerable pain -- yes, exactly,” Llewellyn agreed, going on to explain, “Excruciating pain, actually, which is why the two have an identical Latin root: cruciare, to torture. Also the noun crux , plural crucis, which means ‘cross,’ since crucifixion was not only a form of execution but also a form of torture, faster forms of execution being available, even in the Roman Empire, for those lucky enough to receive them. Another question: what are the effects of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse?”
There was a longer pause before the answer this time. It was Black, interestingly enough. “It can cause nerve damage that can’t be repaired,” he stated, uncharacteristically soberly. “And madness. It can cause madness.”
“Very good,” Llewellyn responded. “The Cruciatus Curse works on the nervous system, through the pain nerves, basically igniting them all at the same time. It can only be tolerated for so long without irreparable damage being done.”
“Sir?” It was Mulciber.
“Yes?”
“Do we get to practice the Cruciatus Curse? Sir,” Mulciber asked.
“I was wondering who would be the first one to ask,” Llewellyn answered mildly. “This is Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he said, simply, and then moved on.
“So, to answer the obvious questions: No, we will not be practicing casting the Cruciatus Curse on each other. No, I will not be casting it on you and seeing how you fight it. No, we won’t be using it on animals or insects. And no, I will not be demonstrating it by having one of the senior faculty practice it on me. I already get enough grief from them about how loud my classes are without giving them an opportunity to use the Cruciatus Curse.” Most of the class laughed in a somewhat guilty manner at this bit of humor, but Mulciber, Wilkes, Rosier and Avery brayed scoffingly and pounded their desks, mocking everyone who actually laughed along with the young professor. Severus opted not to join them.
When Llewellyn had finally regained control of the classroom, he spoke softly, and even the most talkative students strained to listen. “If this curse is used on you,” he said quietly, “and you’re too late to dodge it or block it, the best method of surviving a prolonged exposure to this degree of pain with your physical and mental health somewhat intact is to compartmentalise your mind and your body -- to separate the two. It’s impossible to do completely, of course, but separation of the two to some degree is possible. The more you can do it, the longer you can survive until help comes along or the perpetrator is distracted. Are any of you familiar with the practice of Occlumency?”
A few hands went up. Severus didn’t raise his; he had heard of it and knew about it in theory, but he would not have presumed to call himself “familiar” with the practice. Llewellyn nodded. “Occlumency is the practice of blocking or shielding the mind from probing or investigation by another, by one skilled in the practice of Legilimency.”
“Like mind-reading?” someone asked.
Llewellyn looked thoughtful. “More complex than that, in practice, but you have the correct general idea. To keep it in those simple terms -- if someone tries to use Legilimency to read your mind, you can use Occlumency, or blocking, to shield your mind from this kind of invasion. Those who are skilled in Occlumency can block their minds from invasive attacks.”
“Er, Professor?” It was Pettigrew this time. “What does this have to do with the Cruciatus Curse?”
“I’m getting to that,” Llewellyn responded, with a hint of impatience. “Occlumency is -- is something of an analogy for what I’d like to teach you over the next few lessons. You can block your mind from invasive probing by using Occlumency. I would like to teach you to block your mind from the sensations of your own body, and the skill is not dissimilar to that of Occlumency. It will not guarantee that even the most skilled practitioner of this kind of compartmentalisation will survive extensive use of the Cruciatus Curse intact. However, it improves your odds, by focusing the mind on something else and thereby blocking or redirecting it to some extent.”
He went on to explain in some detail the mental component of pain, the idea of pain tolerance and how that threshold differed in various people, and how the mind could, in certain extreme cases, choose to ignore pain altogether for a limited amount of time. “I’m sure you all know the examples,” he stated. “Mostly parents who suffered through some excruciating experience without even noticing, in order to save their child. The idea, basically, is that focus on something other than the pain itself can make you notice it less, and thus stand a greater chance of surviving it. Does anyone have any questions?”
After something of a puzzled silence, someone asked, “Yes -- what on earth we’re actually going to do.”
“We’ll get to that tomorrow. Any questions about the theory behind this?”
Severus had plenty, but having no intention of publicly looking even more like the swot he actually was, he remained silent, as did the rest of the class.
“There is actually a method to my madness,” Llewellyn stated, “based on the Muggle study of physiology, actually -- a bit of useful information from my wife’s Healer studies.”
“Figures,” Avery scoffed softly.
“Muggle-lover,” Mulciber replied. Severus was starting to discover that a bonus of no longer having to appease Avery and the others was that he could actually listen to something like Llewellyn’s fascinating discussion of a concept called “desensitisation,” how people could learn to become gradually less aware of offensive stimuli, instead of pretending to be too Pureblooded to learn from Muggle science.
The lecture ended when Llewellyn looked up at the clock, closed his text, and stated, “More on that concept tomorrow, and we’ll start the actual practice. Don’t forget -- essay on the Cruciatus Curse, one foot, due by the end of the week. Details are in the syllabus. Ave atque vale.” The same goofy Latin closure at the end of every class: every professor had their own tics and traditions, and this was one of his. Hail and farewell.
Severus was putting away his parchment and quill and heavily-annotated text when Llewellyn asked, out of nowhere, “Severus, is that correct?”
Severus looked up and nodded.
“You looked like you had a question.”
Severus considered for a moment whether he should even ask it, but then figured that his reputation probably preceded him, and went ahead and replied. “I did, but it’s more of a philosophical point. I was wondering whether the Cruciatus Curse is always considered Dark magic. Sir.” He had never actually spoken to Llewellyn individually before, and here he was forgetting the “sir” part just like everyone else. The professor was just so very young that “sir” didn’t slip off the tongue naturally the way it did with, say, Flitwick.
“Considered Dark magic by whom?” Llewellyn asked. “In ethics or under the law?”
“Either. Both. I don’t think I’ve really thought that far.”
Llewellyn looked thoughtful. “I would have to say… I would have to say that you should ignore the topic in the syllabus and write your essay on that instead, if you’d prefer. And then we’ll discuss it. You’ll find what you need in the philosophy and ethics section of the library, if you’d like to start from sources. Bellingham’s Dark Magic and the Law is a good starter text on the legal end of the subject.”
It sounded a hell of a lot more interesting than the assigned topic, which was a brief description and history of the Cruciatus Curse. Severus nodded in agreement, thanked him, remembered to call him sir, and left the room.
The next day was the Practicum, which turned out to be less terrifying than most of the class had imagined it would be.
“So, after all this high-minded scientific theory, the spell I’m going to use to teach this skill is… rather silly, actually,” Llewellyn stated when he had concluded the physiology lecture from the previous day, leaving half the class riveted and the other half in slack-jawed boredom. “We’re going to use the Tickling Hex, which creates a different kind of intolerable physical sensation, one that I’m sure you’ve all experienced. You’ll be able to tell me better than I can tell you when you’ve achieved some measure of success at blocking it, but we’ll also have some more objective indicators: reduced laughter, increased composure, regaining the ability to speak in full sentences and so forth.” Severus had never been so glad that he wasn’t particularly ticklish.
“BEFORE WE START!” he yelled over the hubbub in the classroom as people ceased paying attention and began chatting with each other. The class quieted down a bit. “Before we start -- another similarity between this technique and Occlumency is that there are no baby steps, so to speak -- there is no building up to it. You have to jump right in. To learn Occlumency, you try to defend yourself as a skilled Legilimens attempts to invade your mind. In this practice…”
He paused. “In this practice, I suppose I could have you using light Tickling Hexes on each other to build up to the real thing, but that’s probably a much less useful way of learning it. There is nothing halfway about the Cruciatus Curse. Like all Dark magic, it is cast with either expertise or feeling, and usually both. Someone who dares to use an Unforgivable Curse on you will probably not be seeking to cause a little bit of pain.”
Llewellyn paused again to let this sink in, and then stated, “I believe you’ll learn more effective methods of redirecting your mind if you learn to focus while under a strong Tickling Hex. You alone will know what to focus on -- a good thought, an angry thought, a chant or meditation, or even just clearing and emptying your mind, but whatever it is, it should be something that helps you separate your mind from the sensations being experienced by your body. I can’t tell you what that will be; you’ll only find out with practice.”
The professor handed out parchments for tracking progress, and then went on to explain, “You’ll be working with a partner, and I ask you all to keep track of how long it takes for your partner to regain some semblance of control. This will help him or her figure out whether any improvement is being made. You can use the large clock at the front of the classroom. Row 1 will work with Row 2, and Row 3 will work with Row 4: pair off with the person next to you. I will be going around the room and checking on your work, and if there is any indication that any spell other than a Tickling Hex is being used on your partner, your wand will be confiscated and the Priori Incantem will be performed.” Apparently Llewellyn had learned a thing or two in a month and a half of teaching.
He finally announced, “Please pair up and begin.”
Severus turned around to greet a terrified looking Ravenclaw, Geoff Oglethorpe, and decided not to bother with pleasantries. Setting down his wand and opening his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender, he smirked “Do your worst,” and wondered what Oglethorpe was capable of. Oglethorpe looked as though he was going to be sick.
Clearly this was going to be a fairly useless lesson.
First sign that a hex is not working: when the object thereof is able to reach over, grab the wand out of one’s hand, and thereby stop the hex altogether.
Severus handed Oglethorpe his wand back and exclaimed, “Bloody hell, Geoff, I need to learn this stuff. I’m not going to sneak into your Tower and slit your throat for putting a Tickling Hex on me as part of a class assignment. Now would you please just bloody well do it?”
There, he’d said it. Perhaps he might actually convince Oglethorpe to perform something a bit stronger than whatever he had been doing, which appeared to be the Mildly Annoying Hex, if there was such a thing. The fact that Severus could continue to develop a persuasive argument while being hexed was evidence enough that whatever Oglethorpe was doing was very weak.
“You’re really not going to take this personally?” Oglethorpe looked very, very uncertain.
“Why would I do an idiotic thing like that?” Severus snapped. “I actually want to learn something. Consider that even if you do believe I’m in training to become a Dark wizard, I might need to know a thing or two about defending myself against the Cruciatus Curse. More so than if I’m not.” The possibility of Severus turning a wand on Geoff was not even remotely being considered at this point.
“Fair enough,” Oglethorpe said, the logic clearly appealing to his Ravenclaw mind. He drew a deep breath, pointed his wand--
It had been a while since anyone had used a Tickling Hex on Severus, and he had forgotten how incredibly irritating it was. Oglethorpe meant it this time, and he was actually very good. In no time, Severus was doubled over in mirthless laughter, short of breath, trying to control his mind and focus it elsewhere -- fight it, focus, focus on something else -- and just as he was regaining enough control to catch his breath a bit, he felt an odd, slippery sensation on his head, and the hex suddenly lifted.
A cool, rather viscous liquid had either been dropped or charmed over Severus’s head while he’d been in the throes of the Tickling Hex. Wiping the dripping substance off his brow so that it wouldn’t trickle into his eyes, he quickly discovered that it was oil of some sort. Even with his eyes still closed, he knew who was behind it. The “greasy git” comment was an all-purpose insult that any member of the Hogwarts student body could use on him, but the Marauders in particular seemed to be fixated on the idea. And Sirius Black had still owed him one for the foul-mouthed Rolling Stones T-shirt. Apparently now Muggle Without a Cause once again had the lead.
As Severus blinkingly opened his eyes, he found that Oglethorpe was standing now, with his wand aimed at Sirius Black and James Potter, both halfway across the room and laughing as uncontrollably as all their classmates who were currently being hexed.
“That was just wrong!” Oglethorpe was saying angrily to the pair. “He wasn’t even in a position to know what you were doing, never mind defend himself. And you’re not bloody well going to make me look like I was involved in it.” He turned to Severus, all fear having apparently been replaced by anger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see them coming.”
Oglethorpe undoubtedly had nothing to do with it. It was another question entirely, of course, whether he would have been so sorry to see this particular event if he hadn’t been worried about suffering the wrath of a suspected Death Eater -- but he did seem genuinely angry that Black and Potter would perform a nasty trick on a classmate who was incapacitated as a result of a classroom exercise. Severus chose to think the better of him for it.
What to do about James and Sirius was another question. Llewellyn was making his professorial way over from the far end of the classroom, which limited the options, and Lily -- Lily was no where to be seen, which probably had determined Black and Potter’s timing. She didn’t even appear to be in the classroom at this point. Most of the class was too focused on the Practicum to notice anyway, but at least Lily hadn’t witnessed Severus’s latest humiliation at the hands of the Marauders.
Unlike the previous spring, he wasn’t going to let them get the upper hand this time -- although, in truth, it was a bit late for that. James Potter already had the upper hand, standing there nearly doubled over laughing with his friends while Severus stood mutely with oil of some sort dripping off the ends of his hair down his neck and shoulders. But regardless, Severus wasn’t going to let James goad him into doing something stupid -- not while he still had a chance to avoid being seen like this by Lily. Besides, there was no way that he would give James Potter the satisfaction of seeing him use what would probably be multiple Scourgification spells to clean himself up. The best response, much and all as it galled him to do so, was just to leave.
He couldn’t leave without getting in the last word, however. He belatedly shot what looked like a small jet of soot in Potter, Black and Pettigrew's direction, turned on his heel, and despite his efforts to amble, sprint, saunter-- anything but stalk -- stalked, head down, toward the door.
At which point, he nearly crashed into Lily, who was walking equally quickly inward through the door just as he was walking out. She gasped “Sev!” under her breath as both of them reared backward to avoid running into each other, an occurrence which would have probably been funny if they had still been friends but which was, under the circumstances, only painful and awkward.
Severus stepped backward and put out one arm to indicate that she should pass through first, averting his eyes so that she wouldn’t have to avert hers, and trying to make sure that the gesture could not be interpreted as mockingly gallant. She straightened her shoulders and walked past him with a quick, cold “Thank you.” Typical Lily -- he might be her worst enemy, but she still couldn’t accept a courtesy without saying thanks.
The yells and squeals from the classroom let him know that the cloud of fleas was having the desired effect. Severus was too angry to care how much trouble he would get into, but not too angry to grimly make a mental note that the section on ancient pestilential magic in Professor Binns’ class deserved some additional study. And Dumbledore was right: the fleas were not only less visceral than slurs and obscenities, but also apparently very effective.
On his way to the boys’ lavatory to clean himself up, though, Severus felt the anger gradually abating as a new realisation dawned on him, one that left him happier than he had been in months. He suddenly hardly cared that he had been humiliated in front of the entire class and mocked yet again by the Marauders for the same bloody thing, or that he was currently dripping some sort of herbal-scented oil that would probably require a great deal of trouble to remove.
She had called him Sev -- she had actually blurted out the same old affectionate nickname. She still thought of him like that, at least a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was something. No matter what that fathead James Potter thought, it wasn’t over yet.
Snivellus and the Head Girl by SeverusSempra
Chapter Notes: (Basically the second half of Chapter 4- it was too long to post in one piece.)
Chapter Endnotes: Thank you so much to my amazing beta, Sandy (Snape's Talon), and reviews are always welcome. :)