Unofficial Portkey Archive

She returned the next week.

At first, Harry thought she was never returning. Longbottom's despondent state after extensive interrogation revealed that her parents had been in a car accident after Christmas day and died. A car failure or ice apparently were the potential causes as there were no other drivers on the road when they careened into a tree. Neville only learned the news from one of the Gryffindor Prefects who had been told that the status of Granger's return was uncertain.

Yet, she showed up within a week, calmly resolute as she walked into breakfast. Harry felt a heavy weight off his shoulders, relieved that she should return but not knowing why. There were a myriad of reasons, but Harry suspected it had to do with her loss. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents but to have them taken away when you already knew them seemed like a damnation that not even Salazar Slytherin would wish upon his enemies.

Tracey had noticed his despondent nature and chalked it up to the return of the term, but Harry had carefully disguised it afterwards. Word of the reason for Granger's late arrival spread like wildfire throughout the schools and Harry had to bear the brunt of some guffaws and laughs from Malfoy, gritting his teeth while he silently cast a Boiling Hex on the imbecile's legs.

Still, Harry came to breakfast with his shirt buttoned all the way to the top and his tie tightened to a slightly uncomfortable tension around his neck. Granger glanced up at him and noted his tie but made no indication that she was still meeting with him. Knowing that he would only find out later if she responded to his request, Harry made no other action to flag Granger down.

Regardless, an uncertain bubble burned in his stomach throughout the day as he coasted through Creatures and Potions. Whispers of the fate of Granger's parents reached his ears and he gritted his teeth as they grew more and more ridiculous. He almost snapped at Hannah Abbot in Potions when she relayed that Granger's parents had died at their Muggle dentistry but Tracey laid a calming hand upon his arm.

"What is wrong with you?" Tracey looked up at him with a frown.

"You think they'd have a bit more respect," Harry grumbled.

"And what makes you so interested in Granger's parents?"

Tracey's mouth snapped shut as soon as she asked the question, but Harry let it slide without comment. There was a certain amount of shame in using his parents as disguise for his true sympathy for Granger, but at the risk of Tracey discovering his relationship with the Gryffindor girl, Harry bore the brunt of that shame for the moment.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it."

And she left him alone after that, mindful of his own orphanage.

* * * * *

To his surprise, Granger showed up at her usual spot under the stairs leading towards the dungeons. Harry felt a flutter of nervousness but quelled it, urging himself to act normal. It wasn't easy, given their precarious arrangement as well as the recent development concerning her parents, but Harry managed a curt nod as he found her. He almost asked how her holidays were as a form of reflex but caught himself just in time.

Instead, he said, "Ready?"

She didn't answer for a moment and Harry noticed the hesitation, but she finally said, "Yes."

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and led the way, knowing the discrete path they took from numerous travels before. Avoiding the patrols of teachers and Prefects, Harry found himself in front of the wall that lead to the magical cave underneath the Great Lake.

The dark muddiness of the tunnel was suffocating and every step was filled with a tension that made Harry bounce on Granger's heels. Normally, he was patient with her progress and cadence, but he was bursting with inappropriate questions. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite pin down, an anxious wonderment of her state of mind. But he couldn't ask her, he didn't even want to ask her, but he should ask her.

"Don't, Harry," she said as if she was reading his mind. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if Granger already knew the finer points of Legilimency.

"I've gotten it from everyone else. Pity. Empathy. Even inappropriate things from some of your friends -"

"They're not my friends," Harry quickly interrupted.

"Regardless, I've been on the receiving end of every single sort of emotion. I've dealt with cops, social workers, extended family, Snape, the Prefects, my own House, other Houses. Honestly, I'm just bloody tired of it. I came back because I wanted to learn because learning and education are the only things I understand right now, so I would appreciate it if you didn't ask me how I'm doing or are you okay? I'm obviously not okay and I feel like shit, so can we get to work?"

It was said so precisely and with such disheartening precision that made Harry pause several steps behind her, remaining in the opening of the atrium that led towards the solitary table in the cavern. Nearby, the pool of water splashed against the stone but it might as well have been the roar of a tsunami.

Not only that, but she had cursed twice.

"Okay." It wasn't often Harry was at a loss for words, but that seemed to be a phenomenon that happened frequently as of late.

"Good," she said, but the heavy way her bag slammed against the table indicated that this session would be anything but normal.

Bu at first, everything seemed normal. Hermione procured her two journals and ran down their set of immediate goals. Relative competence at Occlumency and perhaps Legilimency, if time permitted, and investigation into the feasibility of creating a spell. True to form, Hermione ran down the pros and cons as well as the estimated time frame of completion for both tasks. Obviously, there were more variables included within creating a spell, but Hermione was confident they would be able to achieve relative competence in Occlumency within just a couple of weeks. Therefore, they set out to begin with that branch of magic first.

"Okay. Most of the books I've read indicated that to achieve a good mental block requires clearing one's mind. There are various ways to do this and, honestly, it reminds me a bit of Muggle yoga and meditation and I suspect some Buddhists monks are actually wizards in disguise. Nonetheless, the spell to attack is Legilimens."

Hermione rattled it off from her special set of notes, slicing down several summaries of Occlumency until it suited her purpose. They were sitting across from each other and Hermione laid down her journal next to a few references she had borrowed from the library. Rolling up her sleeves, Hermione looked up at him and met his eyes for the first time.

There wasn't something as simple as profound sadness or even tears. Instead, Harry found a strange emptiness mixed with a dormant hint of determination. Perhaps the learning of new branches of magic and spells did indeed distract her from the horrifying memory of her deceased parents. If it helped her recover, then Harry would play along.

"So should I go first or you?"

Hermione shrugged. "Chances are that neither of us will be particularly good at it. I'll go first since I've been practicing the spell. Just remember to clear your mind. Would you like a minute?"

"Sure."

Harry closed his eyes - according to this book, decreasing visual stimuli improves your chances - and took a deep breath, mimicking some of the strange folks that he would see when avoiding Dudley and his gang at the park. They would sit cross legged with their fingers curled into some sort of circle, humming to themselves. A flicker of a smile crossed Harry's lips as he thought of those strange people.

"Take this seriously, Harry," Granger admonished.

"Got it."

He settled deeper and deeper into himself, trying desperately to clear his mind. Yet, there was always a thought that would run astray. Thoughts of the next Battle class. Thoughts of the spell he wanted to create. Thoughts of Tracey and her father shouting at the dinner table. Thoughts of Hermione sitting in her room and crying to herself after learning her parents died. Try as might, his mind wasn't fully cleared.

"Legilimens."

It was hard to describe the sensation the spell gave. To Harry, it felt as if something were being pressed against his head, a incisive object of sorts. Even though he knew it wouldn't hurt him, he could feel the magic pressing against his skull, slowly pushing into his brain. Perhaps it was Granger's inexperience with the spell that gave this strange feeling. Later, against far superior Occlumens, Harry would realize that his theory was right. Other wizards sliced through with the efficiency of a veteran swordsman.

Then came the images.

Hermione found them instantly, the calm reverie he tried to create shattering like a windowpane crushed by a Quaffle, the ornate pieces scrambled to the wind. Instead of falling to the ground, Hermione caught each piece, a refraction of his own life.

The first image was a flash of his first meeting with Tracey and Blaise. It played like a video in one of Trow's Strategy classes, but calling it a video would have understated the feeling that accompanied the memory. He could tell that Granger knew his emotions as Tracey extended her hand in friendship as they boarded the canoes that would take them to Hogwarts. He could see the impish smile on Blaise's face as he was introduced to the Boy-Who-Lived.

The second image was of the House Match during their First Year. Harry led his over matched First Year Slytherins in a kamikaze attack against some Fifth Year Gryffindors, nearly taking them all out but losing every member of his within the first five minutes. Harry himself had taken down two Gryffindors four years his superior with stunning ferocity. The image replayed as Hermione sifted through it easily.

The third and last image was of the Davis Mansion as the Ministry car pulled up on the driveway. Tracey stepped out and a rush of emotions swept across Harry's mind as it pulled them into that dark dining room. It was blurred around the edges as if they were viewing it through a viscous liquid and Tracey was standing up, the beginnings of a loud argument...

No.

Harry pushed her out for a moment, feeling that incisive weapon retreating within his own skull. To her credit, Granger didn't back down and renewed her efforts, forging her way into his mind again.

It was a house crammed between two other houses, a pristine lawn bordering a perfectly swept drive way with a car that was polished every weekend. The brown color gave the house an earthy complexion but as the door swept aside, it was clear that the house was anything but homely. Garish and simplistic at the same time, the house was perfectly kept. The image swept over a cupboard under the stairs and Granger felt a pang of panic and horror at the same time. Quickly, it traveled upstairs and Harry, unbeknown to either of them, started hyperventilating, knowing this memory.

No. This time, he was unable to push her out of his head as Granger continued forward.

Like a Muggle movie, a large man emerged out of frame to open the last door on the left. Inside, the room was sparsely lit and filled with minimal furniture. A little boy with jet black hair and hand-me-down spectacles looked up, his green eyes drowning with shame. The large man took one step inside the room and gently closed the door behind him...

NO!

The spell was snapped, both of them reeling. Harry pushed so far back that he toppled over his chair while Granger pushed against the table with both hands, breathing heavily as she lowered her head. They avoided eye contact as the memories washed away like a receding tide until it settled into the depths of his memory bank.

"I suppose there was some success there," Hermione finally muttered after they both caught their breathes.

Not wanting to embarrass himself any further, Harry nodded his head, hoping she wouldn't bring up the last memory. Granger stared at him and he knew that she didn't forget what she saw. He could only hope that she wouldn't bring it up. But she avoided any mention of it, only bringing her seat towards the table again and laying her wand flat on the surface.

"Let's test my progress, shall we?"

Eager to avoid any mention of his own memories, Harry agreed, trying to ignore the sweat rolling down his back and the shakiness of his hands. Picking up the wand, Harry gave Granger the same minute to compose herself. While her eyes were closed, Harry examined the bags underneath them and the blotchiness of her skin. Fatigue and lack of sleep were visible on her face and he could only imagine the horrors that lay underneath. A relapse of the freshly dug memories surged into his brain and only through practicing that momentary calm did he push it down.

"Legilimens."

This time, Harry felt himself holding the proverbial mental knife. Replacing his own vision were memories and picture of Granger's own. He was in a vast cloud of nothingness with flashes and pictures on either side of him. Reaching out to grab one, he was regaled with a memory of what had to be Mr. Granger feeding Hermione ice cream. Her hair was a bushy mess even when she was a toddler, yet the profoundly innocent way she reached up for the cone was endearing.

The image suddenly dissipated, yanked away from underneath him like a rug under his feet. He was back in that same, murky nothingness but there were less pictures and images this time, some of them far into the distance.

Yanking another memory, Harry was treated with the episode in which Tracey insulted Hermione several times after their exchange in Strategy class. Feeling the shame and utter shock welling up within the emotion, Harry felt a great deal of sympathy towards Hermione and a larger feeling of hate towards Tracey. It was as if their emotions were overlapping and Harry could literally feel Hermione's anger.

But again, that memory vanished faster than the last one and Harry landed in the gray, cloudy nothingness again with even more memories fading into the background. Only a select few were at the forefront and more were disappearing by the second.

She's good at it. She can clear her mind faster than I can. When she went through my memories, it was a knife going through hot butter, but she's kicking me out of her memories one by one.

Deciding to test the limits of the spell, Harry surged forward to grab several memories at once, testing Hermione's boundaries.

The memories came too quickly and Harry wasn't a skilled enough Legilimens to cipher through them with any efficiency. He could see House matches and duels, class lessons, a certain sense of pride as she witnessed Harry attempt to talk the Hufflepuffs down from attacking him en masse. There was fire and smoke and a jungle with a river running through it. Finally, there was snow falling all over the ground, blanketing it in a thick, white sheet. There was a car and...

Nothing.

Like a camera being turned off, Harry saw nothing but white now. There was no gray, no cloudiness. It was perfect nothingness. He was surrounded by an endless road that led to nowhere, the white background extending to an infinity he couldn't reach.

She had cleared her mind.

"I give up," Harry said as he pulled back the spell and felt himself withdraw from her mind. There was a certain discomfort in doing so, like pulling the knife from the wound.

Hermione was pale as sheet, perspiration dripping from her nose and dampening her hair, but still she nodded, a look of grim satisfaction on her visage. It didn't surprise Harry that she was a superior Occlumens. No one could doubt the mastery of her brain, even in protecting itself from outside intrusion. Still, it was a long way to go from competence. After all, they were Third Years casting their first Legilimens spell. But it was a feat worth mentioning.

"Good job," Harry offered.

"Thanks," she demurely answered, as if disappointed that it were so easy. "We'll have to try again once we've improved our ability to attack. You also have a lot of work to do. You didn't do nearly as well as I did."

"Quite obviously. But how'd you do it? I can't just clear my mind like you did."

"Do you want compartmentalizing is?"

"Roughly. Splitting your mind into different parts?"

"That's kind of the idea. I don't think we can ever really clear our minds, but in The Fifth Art of Occlumency, I read there were several ways to push our memories or even hide them so the attacker can't find it. That's what I did," Hermione explained.

"Clever."

Hermione shook her head. "Luck. I would have been found out against an experienced Legilimens. We still have a long way to go."

"It's okay to pat yourself in the back every once and a while, Granger. Merlin knows everyone else does it."

"What's the point if you're not perfect at it? Or at least, nearly perfect."

"Hogwarts wasn't built in a day, Hermione," Harry said as he stood up to stretch his back, his body strangely exhausted from the mental exercises.

As he stood up, Hermione quietly said, "Harry. What was that last memory of yours? Was that where you lived?"

Harry froze in mid-stretch, his arms dangling above him awkwardly. As he loosened his body, he did his best to masquerade the sudden panic rising within him. How much did she see? Did she see only what I saw or did she dig deeper? Did she see Vernon? The questions hammered at him despite his placid attitude.

"You said not to worry how you were feeling when walked in here. Might I make the same request?"

He caught her in a bind and she knew it. Curiosity still danced in her eyes, but it was a sad, slow dance, not a merry jig or a light foxtrot. She nodded, looking almost frail with her paleness and tired eyes. Despite her success in repelling his mental attacks, the defense obviously took a lot out of her. Little did he know how curiosity was like a rampant disease for her, burning through every synapse of her brain until she discovered the truth.

"You don't have to answer, but I assume that's where you live. I can tell by the way all of the houses are built in the same manner. There was a woman and a man and a fat child - Dudley, I think you've called him before - and a lawn that looks like it's been mowed every third day."

"Every other day," Harry corrected.

"How proper of them."

He was still standing, almost towering over her as she sat patiently in her chair, staring up at him with unabashed curiosity. Now aware of the feeling that a rudimentary Legilimens could accomplish, he knew that she wasn't reading his mind, but it still made him uncomfortable. She had come close, far too close to memories that were buried underneath layer after layer of mental protection.

She avoided it. "Well, onto your spell."

Breathing a sigh of relief that didn't go unnoticed by her, Harry retrieved his own journal and flipped open to the first page, the only page he had written on.

"This is what I was thinking..."

* * * * *

So they continued with their lessons over the next two weeks. Resolving to accomplish at least the Occlumency part, Hermione pushed for sessions every other day instead of sporadically during the week. This caused a little discomfort on Harry's part as he had to wait longer and longer as Blaise and Tracey grew more suspicious of his late night absences. Once or twice, they caught him sneaking out late at night and he explained that he was simply keeping a look out for any Hufflepuffs. He even had to miss a session when Tracey insisted on accompanying him as they kept an eye for Justin Finch-Fletchley or any of his kin.

There was no progress made on identifying the three other bullies. Harry had kept Justin's cryptic message to himself, assuming the we he referred to before he threw himself off the building was just he and the other bullies. With little communication outside of sparing glances from the Hufflepuffs, Harry was back to square one on identifying their mysterious identities. Luckily, he had the grueling Occlumency lessons to occupy his time.

From the onset, Granger was much more skilled at the task than he was. It only took about four or five sessions before she mastered the art of clearing her mind to such a degree that when Harry performed the Legilimens spell, he could see nothing but blankness as he entered her mind. Furthermore, as they grew more refined with their use of the attacking spell, Granger matched his knowledge by squirreling away her memories so that he couldn't find them even when he based stronger and stronger attacks on her.

Harry, on the other hand, was having a miserable time at it. Despite Granger's suggestions and advice, he had progressed to being able to hold her off for a moment before she savagely tore through his mind, exploring pieces of his past and present almost at will. Yet, Harry took a grim satisfaction in closing off the Dursley part of his head. Anytime Granger would try and explore Privet Drive, Harry could kick her out of his head. He couldn't hide the memory, but the force with which he responded to her potential intrusion was enough to snap the spell altogether. Unfortunately, his defense undoubtedly led to the unintended consequence of Granger repeatedly questioning him about his home life.

At first, he deflected the questions genuinely and expertly as he usually did, but she was relentless. How come they never stopped Dudley? Why won't you show me any memories of your Uncle? What are those feelings that I get when I start the memory?

It came to a boil one session as he snapped the spell but only after a relentless and almost brutal attack by her that left him shaking and sweating.

"Stop it!" he yelled, the cavernous room only enhancing his shout. "Give me a bloody break here."

"Why can't you bring that defense to your other memories? You have to be able to clear your head, Harry. What's the point in defending only one area? Whoever tries to use it against you will know that you keep it close to your chest."

"Last time I checked, Occlumency wasn't part of the curriculum. I even asked a few of the older students and there's not a single class that studies Occlumency!"

She rolled her eyes, brushing aside his concerns with a simple movement. "Nevertheless, we should be good at it. If no one studies, what happens when someone first uses it?"

"You don't need to lecture me about that," Harry snapped, frustrated with her attempts. "I'm not as good at this as you Granger."

She heaved a huge sigh, flipping through endless notes on her journal as she looked for a solution to improve his aptitude. Using that small reprieve, Harry bit out of a chocolate bear he took from dinner to replenish his thoughts. Granger would want to go again when he was ready, but each time she attacked, he was less and less likely to clear his mind.

"Maybe...if we talked about those memories and why you can defend them, you can prorate it to the rest of your mind," she offered.

"There is no reason. I just hate them so much that it manifests itself in my mind."

"Okay." Hermione pursed her lips like she would do when she was in deep thought. "Let's try something else then. All of these books focus on clearing your mind and clearing your mind. It seems sound and it works for me, but wizards aren't exactly known for their innovation. If it's not broken, why fix it? That seems to be their mentality. You're obviously not going to be able to clear your mind anytime soon, so let's try something else. You can snap the spell entirely. Even I can't do it. The best I can do is hide my memories so deep that you can't find them, yet you can break the spell by force. Why don't you try constructing a defense instead of trying to clear your mind?'

"How do I go about doing that?" Harry asked.

"Just take that feeling you have when I get to memories about your house. There's something within you that creates these defenses that force me out. If you can extrapolate that to the rest of your mind, it won't be as subtle as regular Occlumency, but it'll prevent people from reading your mind," Hermione explained, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"Okay," Harry said slowly, trying to think through the process. He imagined a wall of defenses constructed around his memories, repelling Granger's attacks repeatedly. It wasn't all that different from his carefully constructed barrier around memories of the Dursleys.

"Do it."

That familiar incisive feeling returned. It was subtler as Granger perfected the spell, barely alerting him at times. Prepared with a different tactic, Harry brought up his defenses instead of trying to maintain a clear mind. Already, Granger was having difficult accessing his memories, swishing about here and there as she frantically tried to latch onto one. But Harry was having more success this time, alternating between constructing mental walls and lashing out at her offensively. The latter tactic proved useful as he could feel her presence repel every time he pushed at her.

It was a tango, Granger poking and prodding to see what she could find. This was by far the most success Harry had against her to date. Her mental knife swung around, trying to cut away a piece to examine, but he was a step ahead of her this time, raising proverbial walls and counter-attacking with blistering results. Still, she was skilled in this art and increased her attentions for the first time.

It felt like a thousand pinpricks right against his brain as she assaulted him with full force, bombarding and tearing away at his defenses until she hurried onto driveway of Number Four Privet Drive yet again. The door slammed open as a heavy sat man stomped up the staircase. There was no one else home and she was seconds away from opening the last bedroom on the left when Harry managed to regain his wits.

NO!

He threw her out with such force that suddenly he was in her head. Unprepared, Granger scrambled to dash out her memories, but it was too late and Harry flung himself at a memory of a burning car. Instantly, he was transported onto a snowy roadside, a car smashed against a tree, the hulking metal bent around it like an accordion. Flashing lights swirled in the air as the three cop cars and an ambulance blocked the roadway from anyone else. Inside one of the cars was a little girl, barely over thirteen, with bushy hair, staring horrified at the scene before her.

Then suddenly, he was in the cave yet again, gasping for breath as a deep headache settled right between his eyebrows. Somehow, he was standing and he was so weak that his knees were shaking. Granger was worse off, on the ground in a tight ball.

"Hermione!" Harry choked out, racing around the table to her.

Reaching out to touch her, Harry recoiled as she visibly flinched, suddenly uncurling like a caterpillar and staring up at him with wild eyes.

"Where am I?" she bewilderedly asked.

"We're in the cave, Hermione. You're here with me." Harry assured her.

A brief relapse of the snow buried against the tree popped into his mind and it must have had some residual effect on her. She snapped up, creating space between herself and Harry. Running a hand over her face, she swayed as she tried to regain her orientation. Harry took a half step and reached an arm out to help stabilize her, but she stepped back, enlarging the spacing between them.

"Don't," she quietly said. "Just don't."

At once, Harry realized his mistake: making her relive her worst memory. He opened his mouth to apologize, but a different voice flared his anger. Why should I apologize? She's been badgering me about Vernon all this time. He tried to quell it but only managed to freeze up on the spot, looking at her with a mixture of pity and anger.

"You shouldn't have done that."

It was probably the worst thing she could have said.

"Me? You're the one trying to get through that door all the time! Some things are meant to be private, Granger."

"Then why did you pick that one!" She was yelling now, the echoes bouncing around the cavern. "You could have picked any other memory, but you picked that one. Are you glad you know?"

"Stop being such a hypocrite. You're the one that wanted to see what was on the other side of that door! You're the one poking into my mind! I haven't even so much as gotten a sniff of what's going on inside there while you keep going at it over and over. Don't...don't project onto me!" Harry worked himself into a furor, pointing and gesticulating as his temper got the better of him.

"Project?!" Granger really did have a great offended expression. "My parents just died! I know you don't know how that feels since you've never had any but it hurts. It still hurts. You...you just won't talk about it! You think I don't know what your uncle did? You think I don't know what that looks like? I'm not an idiot, Harry! I was trying to help you. I was trying to let you come out and talk about it. What was the point of making me relive my parent's death?! WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT, HARRY?"

Her shrill voice ended with a finality that wasn't reciprocated by the bouncing echoes that surrounded Harry. He was shocked, unable to move as he processed her words, insults and all. He should have been offended by her slight about lacking parents, but she was right. They were taken from him when he was barely old enough to process memories. Judging by the way she sifted through his own, he could barely remember what they looked like. She, on the other hand, had just been home with them. Just celebrated Christmas with them. What was the point? But he knew why he did it. It might not have been the best way to go about it, but he, more than anyone, knew the dangers of repressed emotions.

So slowly, he loosened his tie and took it off, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked in alarm.

He didn't answer her, continuing to unbutton his shirt until it was fully free, revealing his pale and reedy body underneath.

"Harry, stop it!" Granger ordered.

Ignoring her, Harry turned around, holding the shirt within his grasp but lowering it so his back was exposed, and heard her gasp. No doubt she could see the several scarred lines running across his back. No doubt she could see the wisps of faded red marks across the back of his shoulders. No doubt she could see the criss-crossing paths of the scars, tracing a map. No doubt she could see the ones that were more faded than others, a time line of his punishments.

Making a turn so he could face her again, Harry slowly pulled his shirt back up, taking a perverse pleasure in noticing the grim expression on her face and the way she held her hand to her mouth. Once he was fully clothed again, Harry gathered his belongings as Granger stood frozen against the wall, her hand still against her mouth.

"I'm not the only one that needs to talk about it, Granger."

* * * * *

Occlumency was harder than it seemed. Each session left him exhausted and felt worse than any duel or House match. Harry expected that his mind would be tired, but it also took a toll on his body. Every night, he dragged himself back to the Slytherin Common Room. Perhaps, on this night, the combination of several Occlumency sessions coupled with his emotion-draining fight with Granger left him a bit lackadaisical in his return approach.

Perhaps it was why he missed the blue eyes staring at him as he emerged from the wall.

Harry had his head down, his feet dragging as he tried to bring himself back to the Common Room. His hands were shaky, but he didn't know whether it was from the Occlumency or his revelation to Granger. It was the first time he had ever let anyone see those scars. It was part revenge and part catharsis. Part uplifting and part damnation. Their relationship was forever changed, but he left to her to decide which direction it would go. Frankly, he was too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to decide.

Perhaps, lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that another person followed him through the Common Room entrance.

And as he slumped into bed, not even bothering to change his clothes, perhaps he ignored that slight twinge in his chest that broke and allowed a tear to roll down his cheek as he fell asleep.

* * * * *

"This is...unexpected."

"Did you think you could drive her away? Did you think she would give up?"

"Perhaps I underestimated her."

"Maybe my words still hold some council then? Are you surprised she picked it up this quickly?"

"Surprised is the wrong word. I always expected it, but I didn't think that her parents dying would..."

"...be a catalyst? Not all plans bend exactly to your wishes. No, not even ones as unnecessary as killing her parents."

"It might have been rash."

"Humble too? My Merlin, should I retrieve the werewolf to let him see this show?"

"Don't jest. Her grasp on Occlumency is tenuous but she will recognize any intrusion into her mind now. The boy isn't quite as handy, though that doesn't surprise me."

"How could he be with what we've put him through?"

"Still, despite the problems that it may incur by withholding our access to his mind, it will undoubtedly help against his fight with the Dark Lord. I had hoped to introduce him to Occlumency by his Fifth Year, but it seems the Muggleborn has proved to be far more useful than I thought. Don't mistake this as a summons for her though, she still possesses other dangers to him."

"Emotional attachment? It's not something that is always dangerous. We could use it to our advantage. Place her in a situation that would awaken a deeper understanding of magic from him."

"Use her as bait? And I thought I was sinister."

"It's not bait. It's a controlled situation. It might be time to utilize the four yet again."

"Agreed, though I don't think I will be using Legilimency this time. The Hufflepuff boy has devolved into something unmanageable at this point. Other methods must be utilized."

"There is one other troubling matter as well."

"You've noticed it too? For once, I don't think we can do anything about it. He would have realized the difference of his upbringing sooner or later. There are methods of keeping him from shutting down entirely, but I fear he may cross the threshold."

"He is stronger than you think, despite what we've put him through. Wasn't the reason we did it? To harden his shell so that he could numb any other distress?"

"There are limits. I know them best of all. A perfectly brewed potion must neither be overheated nor should it be cooled to an extent where it becomes useless. It should be simmering, waiting to be applied at the right moment."

"Is it time then?"

"Not yet. He has one more lesson to learn. Only then will we pit everyone against him."

* * * * *

A/N: Early update time as I've found myself with a couple days free. Harry's Third Year should only last around 8 or 9 more chapters give or take and then I'll decide if I want to continue the story. That doesn't mean I'll end the story after that, but I will just take that time to reevaluate and see if I want to keep writing at that pace. Once again, I enjoy all of your reviews and hope to hear more from you.

Estimated Update Time: 14 days

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