Oliver struggled to walk, his legs seemingly having given out on him. Hermione and McGonagall flanked him, providing support as they escorted him to Dumbledore's office, where he recounted the unsettling vision that had plagued his sleep.
Seated in a chair, facing away from Oliver, Dumbledore inquired, "How did you see this?"
"Um... I don't know, inside my head, I guess. Why does it matter?" Oliver responded, his voice shaky.
"You misunderstand me," Dumbledore said calmly. "I mean, can you remember where you were positioned? Were you perhaps standing next to Mr. Weasley or looking on from above?"
Initially puzzled, Oliver took a few seconds to process the question. Then, it all clicked. "I was seeing through its eyes. It must have been a snake."
Dumbledore walked purposefully to a portrait to relay instructions. "Everhardt, Arthur's on guard duty tonight. Make sure he is found by the right people."
"Sir, please-" Oliver began, but Dumbledore swiftly cut him off, moving to address another portrait without acknowledging Oliver's plea.
"Phineas, you must go to your portrait at Grimmauld Place. Tell them that Arthur Weasley is gravely injured, and his children will be sent by Portkey."
Frustration welled up within Oliver as Dumbledore continued to dismiss him without a glance.
"LOOK AT ME!" Oliver shouted in anger, the force of his voice demanding attention.
Finally, Dumbledore halted in his tracks, turning to meet Oliver's gaze.
"What's happening to me?" Oliver questioned, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.
Dumbledore remained silent, his eyes reflecting concern as he studied Oliver.
Abruptly, the sound of approaching footsteps reached Oliver's ears.
"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Snape inquired, entering the scene with an air of calculated composure.
"Well, Severus, I'm afraid we can't wait. Not even until the morning. Otherwise, we will all be vulnerable," Dumbledore declared.
Snape nodded with a grave understanding. "Right away, Headmaster."
Without hesitation, Snape seized Oliver's arm and briskly led him out of the office. Their destination was a secluded spot tucked away in the depths of Hogwarts' basement. Once there, Snape forcefully seated Oliver in a chair.
"What's happening?" Oliver questioned, his uncertainty palpable.
"It appears there is a connection between you and the Dark Lord. Whether he is aware of the connection is, for the moment, unclear," Snape explained, reaching into his desk to retrieve an assortment of foreboding tools.
"Pray he remains ignorant," Snape advised with a somber tone.
"So if he knows about it... he'll be able to read my mind?" Oliver inquired, anxiety lacing his words.
"Read it, control it, unhinge it. In the past, it was often the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade the minds of his victims, creating visions to torture them into madness," Snape elucidated, his pace deliberate as he slowly approached Oliver, intensifying the gravity of the impending ordeal.
"Only after extracting the last exquisite ounce of agony, only when he had them literally begging for death would he finally kill them."
Snape took a dramatic pause, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room.
Fear tightened its grip on Oliver, manifesting in heavy, anxious breaths.
"Used properly, the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence. In these lessons, I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist."
"Now stand up and ready your wand, Montclair."
Oliver hesitated before rising, cautiously retrieving his wand.
"You may use your wand to disarm me or defend yourself in any way you can think of," Snape instructed.
"What are you going to do exactly?" Oliver asked, a hint of fear evident in his voice.
Snape's face contorted into a sinister smile. "I am going to break your mind... Now, Legilimens!" he declared, unleashing the formidable power of Legilimency.
Snape had struck Oliver when he wasn't ready, leaving him with no opportunity to resist. Vivid memories flickered in front of his eyes, as if it had happened just moments ago.
At six years old, his heart ached as Henry stole away his favorite toy.
And at ten, as he blew out the candles on his birthday cake, little did Oliver know that it would be the last celebration he would share with his father, who would tragically pass away soon thereafter. The bittersweet memory mixed with both happiness and grief, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.
But at eleven, destiny intervened, revealing to Oliver that he was not simply an ordinary boy, but a wizard. It was a moment filled with wonder and excitement, as his world expanded beyond his wildest dreams. Meeting Hermione for the first time, his heart skipped a beat.
Under the sorting hat, as its voice whispered the traits and potential within him.
The memory of encountering Tom Riddle in the chamber of secrets was a haunting one. The malevolence in Riddle's eyes seemed to penetrate Oliver's very core, leaving a lingering residue of fear and unease.
A first kiss with Hermione. The sweetness and tenderness of that moment filled Oliver's heart with warmth and hope, reminding him of the power of love amidst chaos.
The image of dementors swarming over his family, threatening to devour any ounce of happiness, sent shivers down his spine. It was a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the world, a constant battle to protect those he held dear.
The memory of Henry dying right in front of him resurfaced. The grief and guilt never truly subsided, a weight he carried ever since.
Oliver was abruptly pulled back into the room with Snape. He glanced up, witnessing Snape rubbing his wrist with an angry scowl etched across his face.
"Did you mean to cast a stinging hex?" Snape asked, clearly irritated.
"No," Oliver replied.
"I thought not."
"Did you see everything I saw?" Oliver nervously inquired.
"Only flashes. You're quite fond of Miss Granger, aren't you?" Snape remarked.
Oliver looked down, his embarrassment evident, as Snape's penetrating gaze seemed to dissect the complexities of his emotions.
"Well, for a first attempt, that was not as poor as it could have been. You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. Focus, Montclair; repel me with your brain, and you will not need your wand," Snape critiqued, raising his wand once more.
"I'm trying! But you're not telling me how to do it!" Oliver shouted in frustration.
"Manners, Montclair!" Snape spat. "Now close your eyes."
Oliver shot Snape a dirty look before begrudgingly closing his eyes.
"Clear your mind, Montclair... Let go of all emotions," Snape instructed with a stern voice, his eyes piercing into Oliver's.
Oliver fiercely fought to empty his mind completely, though it proved to be an arduous task. Overwhelming anger towards Snape still coursed through his veins, threatening to disrupt his focus, but he was determined to give it his all.
"Brace yourself... Legilimens!"
In an instant, a majestic dragon from the Triwizard tournament soared past Oliver, its fiery breath illuminating him with an awe-inspiring display of might and danger.
Oliver was dancing with Luna at the enchanting Yule Ball, the weight of the world temporarily lifted from his shoulders.
Hermione was petrified and motionless, confined to the sterile walls of the hospital wing. Oliver's heart clenched with a mix of anxiety and sorrow.
"No!" Oliver shouted, jolting back to reality. He found himself sprawled on the floor, disoriented and disheveled.
Snape, with a sudden burst of aggression, yanked Oliver up from the floor and forcefully guided him back into the chair. The intensity in Snape's eyes mirrored his exasperation.
"You're not even trying!" Snape exclaimed, his frustration palpable.
"I am trying!" Oliver retorted defiantly, standing his ground against Snape's criticisms.
"I told you to empty yourself of emotions!"
"Yeah? Well, that's a lot harder than you'd think," Oliver shot back, his voice laced with a hint of defiance.
"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" Snape spat, his face contorted with a chilling mixture of anger and urgency.
An unsettling silence hung in the air as Oliver and Snape locked eyes.
"I want you back here the same time on Wednesday," Snape said.
"Fine," Oliver replied tersely.
"Empty your mind of emotions every night before you sleep. Believe me, Montclair, I'll know if you haven't been practicing."
"Right," Oliver said, as he exited the room, a palpable desperation to distance himself from Snape evident in his hurried steps.