Harry Potter: The Healer Chapter 194 - 194

It turned out Hogwarts was considered a high-priority site in the eyes of the Ministry of Magic.

Who would have thought otherwise — and yet, seeing a group of Aurors and DMLE personnel here, within the walls of the school, was sowhat disconcerting. They arrived during lunch on Saturday, literally a few hours after the Prophet had published its piece on the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. They entered the Great Hall, made their way to the staff table, exchanged a few quick words with Dumbledore, and then just as quickly, efficiently, and smoothly... left the Great Hall. I knew perfectly well, however, that they hadn't left Hogwarts — the little spiders showed the adult wizards taking up what they considered strategic positions throughout the castle. Positions placed at points one could barely pass without using the secret passages.

"What do you suppose that ans?" Justin looked simultaneously curious, concerned, and had even lost a bit of his appetite.

Everyone who'd heard Justin — myself included — turned to Susan for an answer.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head and returning to her lunch. "Though it's not hard to guess."

"Well, guessing is one thing, and accurate information is another," Hannah said, and no one disagreed.

"True," Justin nodded. "The paper said important sites would be guarded and patrolled. It stands to reason the only school of magic would have security."

"I just hope they don't get too much in the way," Ernie said with a huff. "Security is security, of course, but in its na they can impose such restrictions that you'd want to scream."

MacMillan's concerns proved unfounded, at least for now. Throughout the day, as I went about my own affairs — talking with the others, sitting in the library with Daphne and a rotating cast of students coming and going — the Aurors and DMLE personnel made themselves almost invisible. Barring the occasional encounter in the corridors, where they'd fix you with a hard, suspicious look. But that was just their job.

Evening ca, and with it the additional Potions session, during which Daphne and I were a picture of professional focus — working on actual potions, precisely as intended — though only a blind man in my position would have missed the subtle shift in Daphne. Imperceptible small details in her expression, the way she moved — all of it composed a portrait of a girl who was, fractionally, more at ease. The cause was almost certainly her parents' agreent not to interfere in her personal life. I was certain that even such a minor degree of freedom made it easier to breathe.

"I see," Snape said, circling us as he always did, diligently generating sources of irritation and attempting to distract us from our work. Futilely, as it happened. "You are managing the material tolerably well."

"Tolerably?" Daphne said, without looking up from her two cauldrons. "I had rather dared to hope for at minimum very well."

"It is better to set oneself a high standard from the outset, with a clear view of the road and its difficulty, than to suffer the delusions of soone congratulating themselves over diocre or rely adequate work as though they'd brought rlin back from the dead."

Snape made a couple of circuits around us, breathed rather weightily, and lood in a manner intended to intimidate — but even his enthusiasm for that had its limits, it seed. He retreated to his desk, cast an unreadable look over a stack of student parchnts, and addressed us again.

"Your potions need only to steep now, I believe."

"Yes, Professor," we said in unison, both of us smiling slightly.

"Miss Greengrass. How do you feel about learning Occluncy by... accelerated thods? Pure practical work."

"I only know the very basics. I've never attempted real practice."

"The basics..." Snape's lip curled slightly. "I'm afraid this is not a discipline in which any instruction, absent practice, is of the slightest use."

My own knowledge of Occluncy was minimal. Essentially limited to the understanding that it was a discipline enabling one to protect the mind from various harmful external and internal influences. Discipline was generous, honestly. The few scattered lines in which I'd encountered the subject were unambiguous on one point: Occluncy was almost useless to study independently, and effective thods differed for every wizard, since the mind was not an open book, not a panel of switches, and how a person worked with their own consciousness — if they worked with it at all — was far too individual.

"Is it dangerous?" I asked, reasonably enough.

Snape looked at .

"Only if one considers the possible ergence of psychological discomfort — because the wizard instructing you has glimpsed fragnts of thought-images and mories — to constitute danger."

"In that case, wouldn't it be better to learn from soone the student actually trusts?"

"Not exactly. Excessive trust causes a wizard to be subconsciously less inclined toward resistance against external influence. This affects both the quality and the pace of learning."

"I think I'll decline," Daphne said, smiling politely with just the corners of her mouth. "I'd rather not entertain even the theoretical possibility of soone seeing my thoughts."

In principle, I understood that position entirely. The re thought of lacking the desired degree of privacy even inside one's own head produced a rather acute discomfort.

"Wouldn't it be better," a question ford in my mind that wanted answering, "to practise with a wizard who you don't particularly trust, but who is fundantally indifferent to your secrets and thoughts? It seems preferable to having to learn on the fly when an actual hostile party intrudes on your mind?"

"Hmm..." Daphne considered this.

Though, if I'd been an ordinary person, I'd have been frankly terrified at the prospect of anyone reading my thoughts. People tend to harbour thoughts in their heads that they would never voice to a living soul — thoughts that anyone who learned them would find alarming, so sharply do they diverge from what a person "shows," in word and deed.

"Might I ask," Daphne said, after her deliberation, "what prompts the suggestion?"

"It's no secret," Snape said. "By the will of our esteed Headmaster, a particular student has been foisted upon for rapid and effective instruction in Occluncy. I have no desire whatsoever to spend my ti on this less-than-gifted pupil, and since I am compelled to teach him, it would not be unwelco to simultaneously teach soone capable."

That was what I appreciated about the additional sessions with Snape — he didn't hedge or soften, speaking plainly about whatever he considered correct and necessary. And if a student needed sothing explained to grasp a point, he explained it. Dryly, without embellishnt, but he explained it.

"In that case, I see no objection. Will you also be teaching Hector?"

"Yes."

When the lesson wound down, Daphne and I submitted our potion samples and took a few vials each — so of the potions we'd prepared were genuinely useful, not rely instructive by virtue of having been brewed. We tended to take so with us; though complex and uncommon, their applications were extrely limited, being highly specialised. A case in point: a pair of modified Skele-Gro variants, considerably less revolting in taste, each acting locally on a specific area of the body, which greatly reduced the toxicity of the potion overall. It was fortunate that we had reserves of various versions of these potions, though there was nobody to use them on at present, and no need to use them on ourselves — and I hoped it would stay that way.

Once we'd tidied up after the session, Potter appeared in the doorway. He looked as though invisible hands had led him to the gallows.

"Mr Potter," Snape said, switching into mildly irritated professor mode.

I understood, broadly, why he did it. Harry, as a wizard, was quite dependent on his emotions. I'd observed more than once that he learned new spells most effectively when in a heightened emotional state — and it didn't particularly matter what kind. Given that Occluncy, if those few lines in the books were to be believed, required in its early stages a forceful, aggressive, willed resistance, this was a sound enough approach. Then again, it was also possible that Snape simply found Harry deeply annoying. Could one bla the professor for that? We were all a bit unhinged here, in our various ways, and one could find grounds to pick at virtually anyone, given the inclination.

"Professor."

"Co in, sit down."

Potter glanced at , then at Daphne, and in one look managed to convey the doubts floating around in his head — but he didn't resist. He ca in and sat at the adjacent desk. Snape, anwhile, launched into his performance: a one-man theatrical production.

"So, Potter, you know why you're here." Snape moved around his desk and produced a bundle from the drawer. "The Headmaster has asked to teach you Occluncy. I can only hope you'll demonstrate more aptitude for it than you do for Potions."

Snape unfolded the bundle, which contained several different wands each in its own pocket, various instrunts for magical procedures unknown to , and a couple of phials of potion.

"Right."

"These lessons may not be like your usual classes, Potter." Snape picked up one of the wands, turned it over in his hands, gave a satisfied nod, and moved around the desk to stand opposite us — though for now his attention was directed entirely at Potter. "Nevertheless, I remain your teacher, and when addressing you will each ti call 'sir' or 'Professor.'"

"Yes... sir."

"Excellent. As you have no doubt already noticed, I shall be teaching Mr Granger and Miss Greengrass alongside you. I see the question on your face: 'Why?'"

Potter simply nodded. He was looking distinctly pale, all told.

"Because I choose to," Snape answered curtly, visibly nettling Harry just slightly. "Now. Occluncy. As I told you in the Headmaster's office, this branch of magic allows one to seal the mind against magical intrusion and influence."

"Sir," Potter took advantage of a brief pause in Snape's monologue, "why does the Headmaster think I need this?"

"I imagine you've already worked that out for yourself, Potter. The Dark Lord is highly accomplished in Legilincy..."

"And what's that?... Sir."

Snape turned sharply toward us.

"Greengrass."

"Legilincy is the ability to extract feelings and mories from another's mind..."

"He can read minds?" Potter sounded alard.

"You clearly fail to appreciate the finer distinctions," Snape said, with unmistakable reproach in his voice. "Which is presumably the source of your blunt and one-dinsional repertoire as a wizard."

I had read about Legilincy, though I'd never practised it — fully aware that I could employ will-based magic for sothing similar. Though even there the nuances were considerable. For one thing, I had little enthusiasm for rooting around in other people's thoughts; my own were more than sufficient, and other people's would require actual interpretation on top of that.

"Only Muggles speak of 'reading minds.' The mind is not a book one can open at will. Thoughts are not printed inside a skull for any curious party to peruse. The brain is a complex organ. In most people, at any rate. Every individual thinks differently. The sa thing conjures entirely different associations and images in different people. And yet it is equally true that those who have mastered Legilincy are able, under certain conditions, to penetrate the minds of their subjects and correctly interpret what they find there."

Snape began to move around our desks, and Harry attempted to track him with his gaze.

"The Dark Lord, in particular, almost invariably knows when soone is lying to him. Only those well-versed in Occluncy can suppress the feelings and mories that contradict a lie, and thus speak falsehoods in his presence without fear of exposure."

Snape completed the circuit and ca to stand directly opposite Potter. Harry glanced in our direction a couple of tis with evident uncertainty.

"Should this really be discussed in front of... them?" Potter's indication to Snape of who he ant was, charitably, not subtle.

"Stop manufacturing secrets where none exist, Potter — stop looking for plots and conspiracies where there are none. If sothing once ca to you as a great revelation, that does not an others are not already aware of it. So questions, certainly, ought to be answered only in the presence of trusted individuals — so save those for a conversation with the Headmaster. But if you'd like to share certain secrets of your own..."

"I think not... sir."

"Excellent. In that case, we shall discuss causes, consequences, and speculation after the lesson. For now..."

Snape flicked his wand, and from the adjoining room a Pensieve sailed through the air toward us — a broad, shallow basin filled with a liquid like water. Snape touched his wand to his own temple and drew from it a silver luminous thread, depositing it in the basin. He repeated this several tis, removing — as I understood it — certain mories from his mind, and then turned to face Potter.

"You may take out your wand, if it makes you more comfortable."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to attempt to enter your mind," Snape said quietly. "We shall see how you resist. I understand you acquitted yourself reasonably well last year against the Imperius Curse. A comparable effort is required here. Your task is to concentrate as fully as possible, cast aside irrelevant thoughts, empty your mind. The goal is to locate the source — the intruder — the thing that is making you 'think,' see images, or hear them."

"Understood."

"I believe I ntioned that one should say 'sir' or 'Professor.' Legilins!"

Snape directed his wand sharply at Potter, and if the professor himself remained unreadable, the boy's face worked through a series of expressions — discomfort, sothing like floundering. Twice he cried out sothing, and from the tip of his wand a small jet of fla broke loose, singeing his own hand. That, apparently, was what enabled him to expel the intruder from his mind and return to the present.

"Were you attempting to defend yourself with a Stinging Hex?"

"No."

"As I thought. You allowed to observe your thoughts without resistance. Control lost imdiately — instantly."

"You saw everything I saw?"

"Glimpses," Snape said, with a crooked sort of smile. "Now sit quietly and think over the experience and what you felt. Your task is to identify the 'cause' — the source from which the foreign thoughts arose — and next ti expel it through an act of will. A useful parallel would be the ability to force yourself awake during sleep and break out of sleep paralysis. There is a certain similarity."

Snape turned his gaze to us, while Potter slumped at his desk and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Who is next?"

Daphne stood up from her desk without comnt or visible emotion.

"Miss Greengrass. I trust there is no need to repeat myself?"

"No, Professor," she said, with a slight nod.

Snape directed his wand sharply at her and spoke the incantation. The scene this ti was markedly different. Daphne's expression didn't change — only the corner of her mouth gave a brief twitch. Three seconds, and Snape lowered his wand. Daphne exhaled.

"Not bad. Very not bad," Snape said, nodding. "You have not practised Occluncy in this manner before."

"No, Professor. As I said, I only studied the fundantal concept. My parents insisted on control of one's thoughts and their origins — so that I would know how to keep my composure and maintain self-control in different situations."

"And in that you have succeeded. Comndable. However, you lack experience and speed of response. I believe in your particular case, practice alone is what's needed, and you will be able to defend against a direct assault of this kind without effort. More subtle manipulation you can work on independently, once you have accumulated experience through these sessions."

"Very well, Professor."

Daphne returned to her seat, and it was my turn.

"Mr Granger." In my case, Snape dispensed with any preamble. "Legilins."

It required so effort not to respond with a defensive spell or sothing else along those lines, out of sheer ingrained habit.

An odd and instructive experience. With the Imperius Curse, one's will is stripped away — one becos, even in one's own thoughts, a sort of vegetable, cheerfully impelling itself toward so external impulse. This was different. One didn't step back or retreat to the margins. It was more like rembering sothing of one's own accord, following an invisible thread. Images of mory had barely begun to flow, drawing back through the day, when I already felt that thread — the one along which consciousness drifts of its own volition, the way it does in monts of relaxation and lost focus. A directed act of will, and the thread was severed, crumpled, discarded.

"You do, Mr Granger, genuinely possess a very fast and powerful mind," Snape said, with a slight hum of acknowledgent. "Comparatively few are capable of detecting a foreign directional current in their thoughts so quickly. Do you practise divided thinking?"

"Occasionally, sir," I said, with a nod.

"Unsurprising. It would be remiss of you not to make use of the resource available to you. In your case, practice will consist of resisting intrusions of varying intensity and under varying conditions. During my lessons I will set you a task, having first cast a Muffling Charm. You will be unable to hear the incantation or detect its application in any way — and therefore unable to prepare in advance, using those fractions of a second."

"Excellent, sir."

"What about ?" Potter asked, having recovered himself sowhat.

"You, Potter, must first learn simply to identify the source of the intrusion — rather than, driven purely by anger, ejecting everything indiscriminately from your head. More concentration, more attentiveness, more patience. Again."

The process went round a second ti, then a third. Snape did no more than confirm the accuracy of his initial assessnts, after which he released us. Potter departed at speed, in a thoroughly dark mood — all one saw was the back of him disappearing. Daphne and I walked at an unhurried pace through the dungeons, discussing the lesson and checking in on each other, though not for long — the classroom was fairly close to the Slytherin common room, to which I walked Daphne. There were, naturally, a couple of goodnights that took a more tangible form than words.

Making my way through the empty corridors, barely five minutes before curfew, I ca across one of the Aurors patrolling the castle. He looked at with displeasure and appeared ready to reprimand for — I'm not sure what, exactly. But on seeing the prefect badge, he rely gave a slight grimace and went on his way. What a delight, really. Just what the castle needed — outsiders underfoot. The little spiders reported that DMLE staff and Aurors were weaving through every accessible corridor, their re existence scattering anyone who fancied a nocturnal walk through the castle. Resentnt would accumulate among the students, and resentful students were unpredictable. It was only a matter of ti before the minor conflicts and skirmishes started up again — and even the fact that the primary source of such things, certain Gryffindors and Slytherins, remained dormant for now on the lingering goodwill of the ceasefire — how long would that hold?

The most pressing question, however, remained unanswered: what would the Dark Lord do next, now that he'd been exposed, and what would co of it all.

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