Chapter Text
Cokeworth was just as Harry remembered it being: dreary and grimy, with the same gauntlet of suspicious neighbors eyeing them as they'd walked past. Very likely the same exact litter filling the gutters and clogging up the sluggish river under the bridge. The same smell of stale piss and spilt alcohol wafting from an ally frequented by vagrants.
Harry could barely hold in his smile as Snape paused them in front of the scuffed black door to Spinner’s End so that he could discreetly tweak the wards from guarding an empty house to one that would soon be occupied. Snape then fished a ring of keys from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, holding it wide for Harry to duck in first.
It was good to be back.
They had stayed at Hogwarts an extra day, to see to the arrangements for transporting Ximen across multiple international muggle and magical borders. It had been agreed upon that they'd wait until the student body had left the castle, to minimize fuss and potential danger on both sides.
Harry had been mildly surprised that Snape had gone to the gamekeeper straight away for help in the matter. Apparently Hagrid had contacts in the field of dangerously classified magical creatures. The giant man had gotten a little weepy when Snape had explained the situation to him, and Harry was subsequently relieved of any intimidation he'd felt towards the large gamekeeper.
Though he could have done without the firm back pats that had nearly flattened him to the ground.
“Aye, yer parents would’a been so proud of you ‘Arry!” Hagrid had exclaimed, as Harry rubbed at his sore shoulder and took a few subtle steps back. “Such a thoughtful lad! Saving such a magnificent being, and clearin’ my name as well!” The man paused to blow his nose into a bright yellow handkerchief nearly the size of a tablecloth. “An’ ta think, yer did it while bein’ stuck in Slytherin an’ all!”
Harry politely ignored the unintentional insult, as it was clear that the gamekeeper had not really meant anything by it. A quick glance at Snape showed the Potions Master with an exasperated, but still somewhat fond, look on his face. The man was obviously used to such statements and knew to take them in the spirit in which they were intended.
Harry hadn't known Hagrid was the one framed for the Chamber being opened the first time, but it was nice to have been able to glean some good out of this year's situation, at least.
After a somewhat tearful goodbye of his own to Ximen, the gamekeeper had even invited them to afternoon tea in his hut. The space had been cramped and a bit stuffy, but the tea was nice enough, even if the rock cake he’d taken to be polite had nearly glued Harry's teeth together. It was worth it to watch Snape sit stoically sipping his tea while Hagrid’s boarhound Fang did its utmost to drool all over the Potions Master’s robes.
Back at Spinner’s End now, though, Harry hurried up the creaking stairs to his room (and when had he started thinking of it as his?) to put away his trunk and things. Jax slithered out from Harry’s satchel on the bed and surveyed the room with a critical purple eye before instructing Harry exactly where he wanted his various warming rocks to be placed. He dutifully did as his friend said, taking a few of his own things out of his resized trunk as well. Mostly books to fill the empty shelves against one wall, but a few clothes into the closet as well, and some ink and parchment for the desk. All of his summer assignments still loomed before him.
By the time he was finished, Harry was surprised to find the room looked much more... homey, than it had during the last summer. Also surprising was how little he had hesitated in spreading his things around the space, as if he expected to be there a long time. Like if Harry put enough of himself into it he could truly claim the room as his own. It was a nice thought, which led him to digging out some of the few trinkets and non-essentials he owned and setting them out as well.
A triangular Slytherin pennant he’d picked up at one of the Quidditch matches went up on the wall next to his bed. A muggle Rubik's cube that he couldn’t quite remember the origin of got set on his nightstand. A few framed photographs of his friends were scattered around the bookcase. The overall effect of the small changes added to that slightly homey feeling from before and turned it up a few good notches into comfortable and undoubtedly his.
There was a knock on the door, making Harry jump. He’d been so distracted trying to dissect his way through the well of unexpected emotions that he hadn’t heard the approaching steps.
“Come in.” He managed not to squeak, which was something at least.
Snape entered. He was still wearing the dark wool jumper and trousers he’d had on during their walk up to Spinner’s End, but had removed his shoes, leaving his feet in (black) socks. No doubt that had contributed to the man’s lack of noise.
The Potions Master glanced around the sparsely decorated room and Harry suddenly wondered if he should not have put quite so much of himself out into it. It wasn’t as if the room actually belonged to him, not really. But Snape just gave him a short, approving nod that had an unexpected wave of warmth rising up in Harry and he had to duck his head a bit to hide the grin that refused to be smothered completely.
“Dinner is ready,” Snape said, “after which, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry went to the desk to scoop a grumbling Jax off of one of his rocks and followed the Potions Master down the stairs, curious.
Dinner was spaghetti bolognese that Snape had added a few spicy peppers into, with some still steaming garlic bread and a green salad. It was delicious and Harry was barely resisting the urge to lick his plate and get at the last bit of sauce there.
“There is more, if you so desire.” Snape quirked an eyebrow at him, sipping from his glass of red wine.
Harry quickly stepped over to the stove and loaded up his plate again. He’d nearly forgotten that Snape did not mind him eating his fill. At Hogwarts, he didn’t have to worry about such things, but this was not Hogwarts. It was an annoying tick in his brain that equated a house with hunger and misery, when if he just took a moment to think, Harry would realize that it had never been so at Spinner’s End. He wondered if such instincts would fade over time, or if the Dursleys had messed him up forever.
“Thank you, it’s really good,” Harry told Snape, if only to distract himself from his own thoughts. “I like the peppers.”
“I thought you might.” The man’s voice was amused as he twisted a few noodles onto his own fork.
After the dinner dishes were cleared away, Snape produced a round carton of mint ice cream from the freezer and dished them both up a bowl. The sight of the Potions Master eating anything so undignified as mint chip ice cream was enough to startle Harry into silence, not that they’d been talking much over the meal in any case.
“I wished to speak to you about furthering your practical skills in Occlumency,” Snape murmured, taking a small bite of his dessert.
It was enough to knock some sense into Harry so that he could start in on his own bowl before it became a soupy mess.
“I believe that the incident this year might have been more easily prevented, were you more fully prepared to guard against such intrusions.”
Harry could feel his shoulders hunching up and he took a too large bite of mint chip to stop himself from blurting out more apologies for his failures.
“Given that you held out for as long as you did is a good sign. It means you have a strong foundation set and it should not be difficult to build off of it.”
“But I wasn’t able to keep him out, not really,” Harry sighed, poking at the pale green contents of his bowl. “He had me sleepwalking a lot and completely took me over by the end.” Harry was grateful he couldn’t really remember that part. Whenever he tried, it was like the impression of a half-forgotten night terror. He did not try often.
“True. But I believe your habit of clearing your mind before bed held him off for longer than he would perhaps admit.”
It was a bittersweet comfort, but Harry was used to such things and he took it to heart anyway. “So what else do you want to teach me? The barrier thing, right? To keep others out of my head?”
“Yes, along with training you to recognize when such a thing occurs. There are some very skilled Legilimens in the world that, if one did not know the signs to look for, could slip in and out of your mind without a hint of their passing.”
Harry shivered, not liking the idea of that one bit.
“Are you one of those people?” It was a blunt question, one he had not really meant to ask, but Snape just inclined his head.
“Indeed. Which was how I was able to enter your mind to confront the shade while you were otherwise... indisposed.”
Harry nodded, glad it had been Snape that had done so and not Dumbledore, which begged the question.
“The Headmaster?” Another nod.
“Very good, Harry. Though I caution spreading such news about, it is a somewhat closely guarded secret.”
“He doesn’t want to give away his dotty old man facade,” Harry snorted.
“Just so.” Snape gave him another little smirk, like they were sharing a private joke, and Harry scooped up the last of his ice cream to hide the smile that wanted to burst forth.
“So when did you want to start?”
“There is no time like the present. Go into the sitting room, I shall join you momentarily.”
Harry scooted back from the table as Snape floated the bowls and spoons over to the sink and started the whole pile to washing themselves. Harry and Jax retreated to their usual chair, settling into the worn fabric with another restrained grin. Jax nuzzled at his temple, knocking Harry’s glasses askew.
“You are happy,” the snake said as Harry scratched under his chin. “This is good. You should be so far more often.”
Harry rolled his eyes and was saved from trying to answer such a statement by the Potions Master stepping into the room and taking the other armchair.
“To begin, I will explain what makes a good mental barrier.” Snape had assumed his lecturing tone, and Harry made sure to pay close attention. “Some people picture walls, but I find such things to be unnecessarily vulnerable. Can you tell me why?”
Harry thought about it for a moment, before answering hesitantly. “They can be climbed over? Or dug under? Or broken through?”
“Very good. The problem with picturing a physical barrier is that it will have those selfsame physical limitations and weaknesses. It does not matter if you reinforce your wall with the strongest bricks when the enemy could simply tunnel underneath.”
“What do you use?”
“A fog, paired with a constant buzz of white noise. Somewhat more difficult to maintain than picturing a simple wall, but I have found it to be most effective.”
Harry tried to imagine it, an endless field of rolling fog, where he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. It was harder to keep up than he’d thought; shadows and forms were constantly trying to break through the soupy surroundings. It also made him somewhat uncomfortable, not being able to see everything going on around him, as ridiculous as that sounded what with it being his own mind. Harry shoved the attempt away after only a moment.
“I don’t think that’s the one for me, sir.”
“No?” Snape hmm’s, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and folding his hands together in front of his mouth in a contemplative gesture, his long pointer fingers making a triangle. “Perhaps not. I want you to think on it and tomorrow we shall begin work on whatever you have come up with. For now, I would like to enter your mind once more, so that you might get a feel for what such a thing is like.”
Harry grimaced slightly, not liking the sound of that. But he liked the idea of being possessed again a lot worse and so gave a jerky sort of nod and tensed, bracing himself for whatever Snape was about to throw at him.
“Relax, I will not probe as deeply as before. Clear your mind. I want you to attempt to force me out if you are able.”
“Okay.” Harry tried to loosen the grip his hands had on the armchair, reaching for that placid calmness, and met Snape’s black eyes with more daring than he actually felt.
“Legilimens.” The word was softly murmured, the last thing Harry heard before his vision went dark.
A burst of color and sound followed quickly on the heels of the darkness, a flash of images swirling by before settling on Harry’s library of endless memory-books. He watched in fascination as a random tome flew off the shelf to float before him, the pages ruffling in an imaginary breeze before revealing a scene spread across them. It was from one of his tutoring lessons with Neville, an early one by the looks of it. Harry watched as the Gryffindor nearly dumped in a full tablespoon of powdered doxy wings instead of the required half. Harry had grabbed onto the other boy's wrist to stop him from dousing them in another batch of half-finished potion, before just as quickly letting go. Neville hadn’t yelled at him for grabbing at him, just grinned and thanked him and measured out the correct dosage.
The book slammed shut and Harry suddenly remembered he was supposed to be doing something. He’d been so caught up in watching his old memory that he’d completely forgone the point of the exercise. As the book dropped to the floor and another took its place, Harry tried to feel out Snape’s presence in his head. There was something there, an odd sensation but too slippery to pinpoint.
The new memory being brought forth was not as nice as the last one: primary school, before he’d gotten Jax. Dudley had just shoved him into a mud puddle and was laughing uproariously with all his little friends as Harry struggled to get back to his feet, only to be tripped up again by his own too-big shoes and landing with a big splat back in the mud. Dudley laughed louder.
Embarrassed by the spectacle, Harry tried to force the memory away, only for another to replace it: his Aunt Marge and her yappy little monster dogs chasing him up a tree. At least Jax had been with him that time, so they could pretend not to be scared together.
Harry pushed again, the memories coming more rapidly, each one seemingly chained to the next, getting worse and worse until it ended with his hands on Quirrell's melting face and Harry screamed. He forced everything away in a rush of pure energy; he didn’t want to see that. He didn’t want Snape to see, to feel how much Harry had wanted to hurt, to kill the man who was mortally threatening his friends. The only friends he had...
“Harry. Calm down, it’s over.” Snape’s deep, slow voice pulled Harry back from the edges of a panic attack and he took a deep breath, followed by another, and another, until his heart had calmed down and he was able to look up with dry eyes again.
Jax was huddled close, wrapped around his right arm, and Harry gave the snake a fond stroke before facing Snape once more. The man was much closer than Harry was expecting, kneeling down in front of him with a hard look to his face. Harry sighed.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. I felt you there, but the memories were coming too fast, it was like I couldn’t get a grip on anything.”
“I would have been exceedingly surprised had you managed it on your first try,” Snape soothed, his features softening somewhat, giving Harry the impression that the man was not upset that he had failed, so much as by what he had seen. Thankfully, he did not seem to want to talk about it right then, as the man stood to retake his seat without further comment on the matter.
“What you did at the end was good instinct, if a bit extreme and energy draining. A last ditch option, if nothing else.”
Harry nodded. He could feel the heaviness in his limbs, as if he’d been running a few laps around the Quidditch pitch.
“Are you up to attempting it again?” Snape’s voice was even, giving the impression that he would not mind Harry’s answer either way, but Harry knew he needed to learn this. No matter how difficult, or painful, it might end up being.
So, he took a final deep breath and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Snape gave him an approving nod, and Harry thought he could detect something like pride in the man’s dark eyes before he murmured the incantation again and everything rushed to blackness.