As fast as the Holiday started, it ended. It was the last day of our break, I spent it running around the house looking for my things and getting my trunk ready to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Halfway through my little break, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, in my room, a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Harry, Maisey," said Mrs. Weasley, poking her head into the bedroom, where Harry and Ron were playing wizard chess as Hermione, Ginny, and I watched, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you both."
Harry's and my mouth fell open in horror. I looked around at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as we were gaping back at us.
"Snape?" said Harry blankly.
"Professor Snape, dear," said Mrs. Weasley reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."
"What's he want with you?" said Ron, looking unnerved as Mrs. Weasley withdrew from the room. "You haven't done anything, have you?"
"No!" Harry and I said indignantly.
Going down the stairs, Harry pushed the kitchen door to find Sirius and Snape seated at the long kitchen table, glaring in opposite directions. The silence between them was heavy with mutual dislike. A letter lay open on the table in front of Sirius.
"Hello?" I cleared my throat to announce our presence.
Snape looked around at us, his face framed between curtains of greasy black hair.
"Sit down, Potters."
"You know," said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."
An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. Harry and I sat down in the chairs on either side of Sirius, facing Snape across the table.
"I was supposed to see you both alone," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black—"
"I'm their godfather," said Sirius, louder than ever.
"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel... involved."
"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, letting his chair fall back onto all four legs with a loud bang.
"Merely that I am sure you must feel— ah— frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful," Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."
It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry first.
"The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."
"Occulumecy?" I repeated.
"Yes, both of you," Snape sneered. "You do know what that is, do you?"
"Yes," I said as Harry said, "No."
"Occlumency, Potter. The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."
"Why do I have to study Occlu— thing?" he blurted out.
"Because the headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"Who's going to be teaching us?" I asked.
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"I am," he said
Harry and I gave each other the most disgusted face we could muster up. Extra lessons with Snape— what on earth had we done to deserve this? I looked quickly around at Sirius for support.
"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry and Maisey?" asked Sirius aggressively. "Why you?"
"I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Snape silkily. "I assure you I did not beg for the job."
He got to his feet.
"I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions, Harry, and Maisey is your tutor. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."
He turned to leave, his black traveling cloak billowing behind him
"Wait a moment," said Sirius, sitting up straighter in his chair. Snape turned back to face us, sneering.
"I am in rather a hurry, Black... unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time..."
"I'll get to the point, then," said Sirius, standing up. He was rather taller than Snape who, I noticed, had balled his fist in the pocket of his cloak over what I was sure was the handle of his wand. "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry or Maisey a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."
"How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that they are both very like their father?"
"Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly.
"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him whereas she just tags along— on second thought, she's more like you than her own father," Snape said sleekly.
Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius's wand tip to his face.
"Sirius!" I shouted loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him.
"I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better—"
"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?"
"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"
"Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform— gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"
Sirius raised his wand.
"NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't—"
"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry and me out of the way, but Harry would not budge even though Sirius had pushed me behind him.
"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.
"Harry— get— out— of— it!" snarled Sirius, pushing him out of the way with his free hand.
"Sirius, stop it!" I tried to move between the three.
"Maisey— this's— a— man's— fight," Sirius said angrily.
But before I could react to the sexist kind, the kitchen door opened and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, came inside, all looking very happy, with Mr. Weasley walking proudly in their midst dressed in a pair of striped pajamas covered by a mackintosh.
"Cured!" he announced brightly to the kitchen at large. "Completely cured!"
All Weasleys froze on the threshold, gazing at the scene in front of them, which was also suspended in mid-action: Both Sirius and Snape looking toward the door with their wands pointing into each other's faces, Harry immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each of them, trying to force them apart, and me trying to get out from in between Sirius and Harry.
"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face, "what's going on here?"
Both Sirius and Snape lowered their wands. I looked from one to the other. Each wore an expression of utmost contempt, yet the unexpected entrance of so many witnesses seemed to have brought them to their senses. Snape pocketed his wand and swept back across the kitchen, passing the Weasleys without comment. At the door he looked back.
"Six o'clock Monday evening."
He was gone. Sirius glared after him, his wand at his side.
"But what's been going on?" asked Mr. Weasley again.
"Nothing, Arthur," said Sirius, who was breathing heavily as though he had just run a long distance. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends..." With what looked like an enormous effort, he smiled. "So, you're cured? That's great news, really great..."
That night's meal should have been a cheerful one with Mr. Weasley back amongst us; I could tell Sirius was trying to make it so, yet when he was not forcing himself to laugh loudly at Fred and George's jokes or offering everyone more food, his face fell back into a moody, brooding expression. After dinner, Harry and I told Ron and Hermione about having to take Occlumency lessons with Snape.
"Dumbledore wants to stop you having those dreams about Voldemort," said Hermione at once. "Well, you won't be sorry not to have them anymore, will you?"
"Why do I have to go? I don't have any dreams or visions or nightmares or whatever," I exasperated.
"No clue, but extra lessons with Snape?" said Ron, sounding aghast. "I'd rather have the nightmares!"
Harry and I spent most of Monday dreading the evening. Our morning Potions lesson did nothing to dispel my trepidation, as Snape was as unpleasant as ever, and Harry's mood was further lowered by the fact that members of the D.A. were continually approaching us in the corridors between classes, asking hopefully whether there would be a meeting that night.
"I'll let you know when the next one is," Harry said over and over again, "but I can't do it tonight, I've got to go to— er— Remedial Potions..."
"You take Remedial Potions?" asked Zacharias Smith superciliously, having cornered Harry in the entrance hall after lunch. "Good Lord, you must be terrible. And what about you? You're one of the top fifth years."
"I'm tutoring Harry with Professor Snape," I coughed.
As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, I glared after him.
"Shall I jinx him? I can still get him from here," I said, raising my wand and taking aim between Smith's shoulder blades.
"Forget it," said Harry dismally. "It's what everyone's going to think, isn't it? That I'm really stup—"
"Hi, Harry," said a voice behind us. We turned around and found Cho standing there.
"Oh," said Harry.
"Hi."
"We'll be in the library, Harry," said Hermione firmly, and she seized Ron above the elbow and dragged him off toward the marble staircase as I followed.
"I tell you, I don't have a good feeling about her," I grumbled.
"You only say that because you're his sister," Ron said.
"I don't like her either," Hermione mumbled.
By six o'clock that evening, however, I was left with the ominous feelings that intensified with every step I took toward Snape's office. Harry and I paused outside the door when we reached it, wishing I were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, knocked, and entered.
It was a shadowy room lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which floated slimy bits of animals and plants, suspended in variously colored potions. In a corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape had once accused Harry and me— not without reason— of robbing. My attention was drawn toward the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. I recognized it at once— Dumbledore's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing here, I jumped when Snape's cold voice came out of the corner.
"Shut the door behind you, Potter."
Harry, who had walked in after me, did as he was told as I was left with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning yourselves as he did so. Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chairs opposite his desk. Harry and I sat down and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry and me.
"Well, you know why you are here," he said. "The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions."
"Right," said Harry tersely.
"Yes, sir," I cleared my throat.
"Your sister seems to have the right idea," said Snape, his eyes narrowing malevolently at Harry. "This may not be an ordinary class, Potter, but I am still your teacher and you with, therefore, call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."
"Yes... sir," said Harry.
"Now, Occlumency. As I told you both back in your dear godfather's kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."
"And why does Professor Dumbledore think we need it, sir?" I said, looking directly into Snape's dark, cold eyes and wondering whether he would answer.
Snape looked back at me for a moment, flickered his eyes to Harry, and then said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency—"
"What's that? Sir?" said Harry condescendingly.
"It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind—"
"He can read minds?" said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed.
"You have no subtlety, Potter," said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. "You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker."
Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savor the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing, "Only Muggles talk of 'mind reading.' The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter, or at least, most minds are..." He smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."
"Professor, so Voldemort could know what we're thinking right now?" I asked actually intrigued.
"You cannot say his name so blatantly. It is Dark Lord or You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Snape snapped at me.
Harry and I stayed silent.
"But the Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them," said Snape. "Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."
"Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?" Harry said.
Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so.
"The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you both seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable— when you are asleep, for instance— you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord."
"But I don't have any visions or dreams or see any thoughts—"
"Miss Potter, although you do not share the sight of the visions, you are very well adept at feeling not only the Dark Lord's emotions, but also your brother's," Snape explained.
"But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it?" Harry asked abruptly. "I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean... I saw that snake attack Mr. Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to save him, would he? Sir?"
"It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you both and himself until very recently. Up till now, it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions and sharing his thoughts without his being any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas—"
"The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?"
"Do not interrupt me, Potter," said Snape in a dangerous voice. "As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Dark Lord's thoughts—"
"I saw inside the snake's head, not his!"
"I thought I just told you not to interrupt me, Potter?"
But I could tell Harry did not care if Snape was angry.
"How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?"
"Do not say the Dark Lord's name!" spat Snape again.
There was a nasty silence. Harry and Snape glared at each other across the Pensieve.
"Professor Dumbledore says his name," said Harry quietly.
"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Snape muttered. "While he may feel secure enough to use the name... the rest of us..."
He rubbed his left forearm, apparently unconsciously, on the spot where I knew the Dark Mark was burned into his skin.
"I just wanted to know," Harry began again, forcing his voice back to politeness, "why—"
"You seem to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment," snarled Snape. "He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it as well."
"And Vol— he— realized I was there?"
"It seems so," said Snape coolly.
"How do you know?" said Harry urgently. "Is this just Professor Dumbledore guessing, or —?"
"I told you," said Snape, rigid in his chair, his eyes slits, "to call me 'sir.' "
"Yes, sir," said Harry impatiently, "but how do you know —?"
"It is enough that we know," said Snape repressively. "The important point is that the Dark Lord is now aware that you are gaining access to his thoughts and feelings. Although, Miss Potter, you may not share the thoughts, you also may share his emotions—"
"P-Professor," I interrupted him absolutely terrified; Snape raised his brow at me, but did not scold me for cutting him off as he did Harry, "the night that Harry had the vision... before we were transported out of Professor Dumbledore's office, I felt... hatred a-and anger against him."
"Against Dumbledore?" Snape asked. I nodded. "That was most likely the Dark Lord's emotions towards him that you felt. You are intuned with his feelings."
I leaned back silently, afraid.
"He has also deduced," Snape continued, "that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realized that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return —"
"And he might try and make us do things?" asked Harry. "Sir?" he added hurriedly.
"He might," said Snape, sounding cold and unconcerned. "Which brings us back to Occlumency."
Snape pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and raised the wand to his temple and placed its tip into the greasy roots of his hair. Twice more Snape raised the wand to his temple and deposited the silvery substance into the stone basin, then, without offering any explanation of his behavior, he picked up the Pensieve carefully, removed it to a shelf out of their way and returned to face me with his wand held at the ready.
"Stand up and take out your wand, Miss Potter. You first, then your brother."
I got to my feet feeling nervous. We faced each other with the desk between them.
"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," said Snape.
"And what are you going to do?" I asked, eyeing Snape's wand apprehensively.
"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this. Brace yourself, now... Legilimens!"
Snape had struck before I was ready, before I had even begun to summon any force of resistance: the office swam in front of my eyes and vanished, image after image was racing through my mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded me to my surroundings.
I was eight, watching Lupin come back full of blood, and my heart was bursting with fear... I was nine and looked at myself, crying, after I went through Lupin's things to find out about my parents... I was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling me how I'd fit in different Houses... Harry was laying on the chamber floor, dying... A hundred dementors were closing in on Harry and me beside the dark lake... Fred touched my shoulder, asking me about my—
No, said a voice in my head, this is not—
"Flipendo!" I shouted aloud and the next thing I knew, Snape's office came back into view; Harry was sitting in his chair, looking at Snape, who was sprawled on the floor. Looking around, I was standing in my spot, my wand outstretched and pointed at Snape.
"You let me get in too far," said Snape contemptuously.
"Did you see everything I saw?" I asked, unsure of whether I wanted to hear the answer.
"Flashes of it," said Snape, his lip curling. "Fancy yourself Mr Weasley?"
"No," I said defensively, not looking at Harry's face.
"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," said Snape, raising his wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."
"How can I, sir?" I said quickly. "You haven't told me how."
"Close you eyes and clear your mind," said Snape's cold voice. "Let go of all emotion..."
I tried to allow myself to relax, but the anticipation of Snape entering my mind again scared me.
"Let's go again... on the count of three... one— two— three— Legilimens!"
Memories swirled in my mind again, but when I saw the image of my mother and father waving at me out of an enchanted mirror, I quickly built a wall and felt as if something fell out of my mind. Anger surged through my veins and I opened my eyes.
"Much better than the first time," Snape said coldly. "When did you see that reflection of—"
"My first year," I said curtly, "sir."
My head pounded from the force.
"Why did I feel like something was falling out from my mind, Professor?" I asked softly.
"You successfully pushed me out of your mind," his eyes narrowed at me. "But had you done it right the first moment, then I wouldn't have been able to see even a second of your memory."
I nodded and looked over at Harry. He looked annoyed and confused.
"Potter, your turn."