Dungeon

Chapter 1 - All in the Mind's Eye

"How was your summer?" Dumbledore asked as he considered Harry over his spectacles.

Responses such as could have been worse and better than expected although that isn't saying much came to mind. "Okay," was Harry's quiet response. Harry as usual had thought he wanted nothing more than to return to Hogwarts, but the day after the Sorting Feast was proving to be a letdown. He felt even more isolated now than he did at the end of last year.

"I want you to continue to learn Occlumency, but I am going to teach you myself this term if you are willing," Dumbledore said kindly.

Harry's head came up at that. He nodded that he agreed. Dumbledore's gaze grew more watchful as Harry continued to sit silently. "When your schedule is set, we can pick an evening, then. Why don't you rejoin your friends, with whom I am sure you have some catching up."

It required a moment for Harry to realize he had been dismissed. He stood up with a quiet “good evening” and departed.

In the Gryffindor common room Ron and Hermione were arguing. Harry frowned slightly and went over to them. "But Ron, I don't want to take Potions alone! But I really want to take Potions. This year is the first year we'll get to do really interesting things."

Harry dropped into an open seat beside them. The armrests of this chair were worn almost through. He picked at the threads of stuffing that stuck out. "Yeah, Ron, now that all of the dummies are out of the classroom, it will get fun and interesting, and Snape won't be a total git anymore," he said in an oddly neutral voice.

Hermione frowned as she watched him damage the couch further. "Harry, what is up with you?"

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "It's like you would have preferred staying at the Dursleys the way you were acting on the train."

Harry kept the same even tone, refusing to be baited. "You've met my aunt and uncle; you really think that?"

Hermione gave Harry a worried look, then returned to her argument with Ron. "If you were really my friend, you would take Potions with me," she said moodily.

"If you were really mine, you wouldn't even suggest it!" Ron retorted. "Have you asked Harry?"

"Come on, Ron. Professor Snape hates Harry. I wouldn't put Harry up to that."

"I'll do it," Harry said factually.

"You will?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Harry looked at his fingernails. He felt detached, as though nothing mattered, including Potions. "Why not," he said.

"Well, thanks, Harry. I really appreciate it."

Ron frowned at him as though trying to read between the lines of his magnanimous attitude. Harry ignored him.

* * *

"Parkinson comma Pansy," Snape said as he read the roll on the first day of class. After a glance at the beaming Slytherin, he made a check mark in the book. "And, rather shockingly, Potter, Harry," Snape said and gave Harry a long look. Harry ignored him and stared at the blackboard and the rather stylishly written words, "Advanced Fifth Year Potions." Snape moved on to the rest of the class list. When the roll was finished, he paced along the wall as he explained of the goals of the class. Hermione had to nudge Harry to get him to realize he had to write down the syllabus on his parchment.

* * *

Harry's first Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore was that evening. Over the summer he had been practicing his mind-clearing exercise. He found it came in very handy for dealing with the Dursleys. His uncle Vernon seemed to find his new found stoicism a kind of unexpected virtue when Harry really managed to get on form. Harry didn't think he was going to continue to find it useful at Hogwarts, but he kept falling into that state of mind out of habit.

At the top of the escalator, Harry cleared his thoughts as thoroughly as he ever had and swung the brass door knocker. "Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said in a welcoming voice. When the young man had taken a seat, Dumbledore asked, "Happy to be back?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, why don't we just get started then," Dumbledore said, watching Harry closely. "You understand how Occlumency works, correct?"

"If I clear my mind, there is nothing for someone else to grab hold of," Harry replied flatly.

"Correct. That is the basic method, but it doesn't leave you much room to think for yourself. There are ways to distract the Legilimens attacker or even to outrightly show them false memories and thoughts."

Harry's eyes lit up a bit at that, but they still seemed much duller than Dumbledore expected. He supposed that he couldn’t have expected Harry to have recovered this soon from the events at the Ministry.

"Let's test your basic abilities then. Are you ready?" Dumbledore picked up his wand and said Legilimens, in a factual rather than shouting voice the way Snape had. Harry didn't really need to prepare but he did anyway. Dumbledore's mind slipped past Harry's as if he weren't there. "Very good, Harry. You have been practicing. Did you have any visions or dreams over the summer?"

"A few," Harry said in a flat voice. "I blocked them out."

Dumbledore linked his hands together and considered Harry. The boy's attitude was beginning to make more sense. "Well, I am glad you find that possible now. It certainly must make for a better night's sleep."

Harry shrugged.

Dumbledore plowed on. He was growing worried, but believed that a few days or weeks around his friends would return Harry to his old self or something more closely resembling his old self. "Since you have mastered the basic mode, let's move on to creating a deception for a Legilimency attack. To do this, you must partition your mind into two distinct parts. The cleared one that repels attack and another where you can hold your own thoughts to yourself. Once you have mastered this partition, you can then inject false notions into the cleared part of your mind. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. He was listening intently.

"Clear your mind and push the cleared part forward towards me. Then in the back of your mind think of something, anything really, that I can try to get from you." He paused for a long minute, while Harry worked that out. "Ready? Legilimens."

Harry had thought about his broom in the back of his mind. It had been pulling a little down and to the left as though it needed a charm reworking. As Dumbledore said the spell, Harry's thoughts about his broom leapt to the front of his mind without effort. He shook his head. "That didn't work," Harry commented.

"It rarely does on the first try or even the hundredth. Have some patience with yourself. Push the blank part of your mind forward harder as you are considering the other topic and think about walling off the other part. It is hard to do simultaneously, but not impossible and it requires a great deal of practice."

"You are much more patient than Professor Snape," Harry commented evenly.

"It is true that Professor Snape is not known for his patience. But his skill at Occlumency is unmatched. Let's try it again."

Harry was tired by the time he left the Headmaster's office. In the common room the students were winding down for the night, having spent much of the night before catching up with their mates.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked Harry when he came in.

Harry sat down close beside his friends and whispered. "I have Occlumency now with the headmaster."

"Oh, that must be better than Professor Snape," she commented.

Harry nodded emphatically then cleared his mind and stared into the waning fire in the hearth.

Even Dumbledore's much more gentle lessons left Harry vulnerable, he discovered that night. Harry awoke with a jerk and realized he was not only laying in his bed but also standing in the dim, fire-lit room from previous visions. He was looking down at someone kneeling before him and heard Voldemort's voice, "Everything is going as planned. Excellent." Harry could feel a warm pleasure at being in control. "I have something else for you to do. Rudolph gave me an idea. . " The kneeling figure looked up in question and Harry found himself looking down at his Potions professor. He blanked his mind and shut down the vision. He didn't fall back to sleep again that night.

Harry trudged through Astronomy, Transfiguration, and Herbology the next day as though in a daze. At dinner he was dimly aware that Hermione's and Ron's expressions had grown more concerned as the day progressed.

They began what could only be described as a campaign to cheer him up. There were chocolates around at all times and more games between homework assignments. Hermione talked repeatedly of all of the charms and hexes she had looked up over the summer that they could do in the DA. After three days all of this was starting to piss Harry off royally.

Harry shrugged Hermione off in the hallway when she came up to him to ask what date she could charm her galleon to for the first meeting.

"Whenever you want," Harry replied. "Just take it over. That would be fine with me."

"I'm not trying to take it over, Harry," she said, a little offended.

"I'm trying to give it to you," Harry came back with a sharp tone.

Hermione looked at him, her frown deepening. "It is your group, Harry. You are the one everyone wants to learn from."

Great, so they can follow me to their doom, Harry thought to himself. "I'll think about it," he said in a tone that indicated his mind wasn't going to change.

"Harry," she whispered, "it is only going to get more dangerous, and everyone has a lot more to learn."

Harry pushed his hair down. "Yeah," he breathed and walked away.

Hermione turned around to find Ron just behind her. "I liked him better when he was yelling at us all of the time," he commented.

"I guess we just have to give him some time," Hermione said.

"He had all summer."

"That might be the problem."
* * *

The next morning was Double Potions. Since the class was optional, and much smaller, all of the houses were together. Harry kept his head down as the instructions were given out. He was angry with himself for some reason he realized as he neared the head of the pack of students picking up ingredients from the side table. He carried them back over to his table and set his cauldron on the burner. He stared at its burnished finish, black on the bottom to a dusty pewter at the top. He really couldn't care less about this stupid elixir he was supposed to brew.

Hermione hissed at him to get him started. Moving on automatic, Harry started putting ingredients in. As his beetle leaves steeped in vinegar and bat blood, Snape approached their table on his rounds.

"So, Mr. Potter, what would happen if the vinegar in this potion were too acidic?"

Harry didn't have the slightest idea. "I don't know, sir," Harry said evenly. Hermione shifted her feet beside him.

"What if I added musk oil to it and heated it longer?"

Again Harry replied in his flat, unaffected voice that he didn't know.

"Look at me when I am talking to you, Potter," Snape said in a low tone.

Harry looked up, and the instant their eyes met, Snape's mind slid into his and then harmlessly aside. Harry just blinked at him in very mild curiosity wondering what that might have been for. Snape's eyes narrowed at him.

Yes, Dumbledore is much better at teaching this than you, Harry pushed to the front of his thoughts, but Snape didn't try again. Instead, he tore his eyes away and walked to the next table.

Classes plowed on. Snape grew nastier during the next session of Potions. "Potter, I fail to understand why you are in this class if you have no interest in understanding the topic," their teacher said after Harry shrugged off a question regarding the lecture. "I am beginning to wonder how it is that you manage at all to produce a potion that even vaguely resembles the intended one."

Harry shrugged again. Snape's jibes rolled off him the same way the assault on his mind had last class.

"Move to another table where you do not get so much assistance," Snape ordered.

Harry calmly collected up his cauldron and supplies. "Which table, sir?" Harry asked in an even, tired voice.

"That one." Snape ordered, pointing at three Hufflepuffs Harry didn't know very well. Harry moved his things, and they made room for him as he arrived. They looked a little unhappy with this. Harry figured they assumed Snape would spend more time at their table with him there.

Harry walked through the brewing like a robot. His potion didn't look like it was turning out and he had no idea why. He thought he had followed the directions; he looked them over and couldn't see what he had missed. Fredrica, one of the girls at the table, gave him a sympathetic look and winced at his cauldron.

Snape came over just after that and with a shake of his head, waved the contents of Harry's cauldron away. "You are, predictably I might add, starting out very much the way you averaged last year, Potter."

Snape stood there beside him and Harry realized he was waiting for him to meet his gaze. Harry looked up at his Professor with empty eyes. Snape spun away. "Stay after, Potter," he said brusquely.

At the end of class as everyone else bottled their potions, Hermione stepped over to Harry with a sad face. "I'm sorry I made you do this." Harry shrugged that it didn't matter. Hermione stuck beside him as the room emptied out.

"I truly don't remember telling you to stay, Ms. Granger," Snape said in a nasty voice when she and Harry were the last two remaining. Hermione picked up her bag and left with a worried frown.

"My office, Potter," Snape commanded. They walked out into the corridor and to the next doorway. Snape removed the charm on the door with a quick wave and lead the way inside. "Sit down," he said sharply to Harry and took the seat opposite.

"I am going to presume that, since even the headmaster cannot teach the basic mode of Occlumency in one session, you mastered it on your own over the summer."

Harry nodded.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape hissed at him.

"Yes, sir."

Snape considered him a long moment. "The cost is too high, Potter."

Harry's brow furrowed at that and he finally looked up.

"You are throwing away the one weapon you have that the Dark Lord does not possess, and that is a fatal mistake."

Harry's stared at him, then looked down again. "I make fatal mistakes either way," Harry said quietly, returning to his flat voice. "I was told to close my mind and that is what I am doing. I am not going to be a pawn anymore."

"We are all pawns," Snape snapped at him, bringing Harry's concerned gaze back again. Snape stood and came around the desk and bent over Harry to talk directly in his face. "You cannot simply wish yourself off of this board. You were born on it. Some might even argue that it is your chess board we are all playing on.

"As well, you have done more than closed your mind. You have thrown yourself away." Snape went on, relentless.

Getting this from Snape was confusing the hell out of Harry. He had half-expected this from Dumbledore, who had just let Harry go with a worried look.

"Sir, did you talk to the headmaster about me?"

"No. Should I have?" Snape said, standing straight and considering for a moment before answering, as though there may be a trap in the question.

"I just would have expected this from him."

"Hmmmm. He is far too easy on you. That is why you 'did not get this from him.'" Snape breathed out loudly and said in a low, angry voice, "We are all putting ourselves on the line, Potter, and you too must do your part. That includes not losing yourself over one mistake. Your father would not approve."

"What did you say?" Harry asked, suddenly focused and burning with something like fury.

Snape crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Harry. "Having known your father, unlike yourself, I can assure you that he would not approve of this state you are putting yourself in."

Harry wanted to find an angry retort but couldn't locate one in his now swirling mind. It had all seemed so clear before. Harry tried to clear his mind again and didn't quite make it now. "I don't want hurt anyone else," Harry tried to say in his flat voice but it instead came out sullen and injured. He winced at himself and tried to find that certainty he’d had before walking in here.

"Potter," Snape said, as though believe he spoke to an idiot. "If Ms. Granger's expression today is any indication, you are hurting others right now."

Harry flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Snape stepped back around his desk and continued to watch Harry from there. Something inside the boy had clearly given way and his distress was a definite improvement over the cold emptiness when he first arrived.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked sullenly.

"Keep going. Just like the rest of us." Snape's voice softened slightly as he said this.

Harry stared at him.

"The path you are trying to set yourself on leads only to darkness and misery . . . and eventually to self-destruction.”

Harry swallowed hard. It was really hard to avoid considering this from when it came from Snape. The same words from Dumbledore would have rolled off of him. Having known your father, unlike yourself. . . Harry sighed. He wanted dearly to ask for something, wanted to ask Snape to tell him about his father. But he didn’t want to owe Snape for anything. He gave up trying to find words and stared at the far rack of potions and waited for something to happen.

"Come here, Potter," Snape said in a strange tone.

Harry blinked at him and stood slowly. Without his armor of indifference, he was realizing that he was completely vulnerable, and terrified that Snape would take advantage of it. He stood beside the desk with trepidation. Snape looked him over and then turned to the cabinet behind him and took out a pensieve. Harry stared at him, eyes wide.

"Just this once, Potter," Snape said and stirred the pensieve with his wand thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. I think you will like this one." Snape stepped back slightly and gestured for Harry to look into the liquid.

Harry hesitated, not used to the onslaught of fear he had been isolated from for the last few months. Swallowing hard, he leaned in mostly because curiosity got the better of him. He was suddenly in the bleachers of the Quidditch stadium seated next to a young Snape. The Slytherins were booing and jeering loudly as two players were carried from the field. It looked like a bludger for Slytherin and the seeker for Gryffindor. More jeers and a rude chant followed, then broke up and faded.

The teams were regrouping on the pitch, shooting looks of hatred at each other. Eventually with some consultation from their Heads of House, they took to the air again. Harry watched as his father rose to the top of the stands and began circling, looking everywhere around him.

"Coming in as Bludger for Slytherin is Wrenny Magree and coming in as Chaser for Gryffindor is Tayla Mubabe and taking over as seeker is James Potter."

Harry held his breath. This was the game where his father had changed positions.

The Slytherins went on the offensive immediately, their chasers dodging across the stadium with a ruthless intensity. The crowd around Harry erupted into cheers, making him want to shrink down in case anyone noticed the lone Gryffindor among them. The score was now 110 to 80 in favor of Slytherin.

The teams looked tired. Harry looked around for the snitch and saw it at the same time his father did. James turned hard in the air and flew ninety degrees to the direction the snitch was in, drawing the Slytherin seeker off course. Then he turned hard again and dodged past his opponent and closed on a snitch that didn't seem to dive away as Harry would have expected it to. Lucky bastard, Harry thought.

The Gryffindor fans rose to their feet in a wave of screaming. The teams were landing and the Gryffindors were literally pummeling each other in their glee. Harry watched his father hug the other chaser, a tall boy who couldn't stop bouncing on his toes in his happiness. At that, the memory faded out.

Harry stood up and took a step back, surprised to be returned so jarringly from the bright afternoon to the dank dungeons. He couldn't meet Snape's gaze. Somehow the fact that Snape of all people had done that for him left him weak and unsettled.

"You are going to be late for your next class," Snape said factually. He scribbled out a note on a torn corner of parchment and handed it to Harry, who took it blindly.

Harry felt too stunned to even say “thank you.” He headed for the door, working to regain his mental balance. Snape's voice brought him up short. "And TRY," Harry jumped at that sharp word, "to study for Potions before the next class."

Harry nodded and left the room.

His Transfiguration class was already well under way when Harry arrived. He walked over to McGonagall and handed her the note before going to the seat his friends had saved for him. As he put his books down he glanced at their faces and saw stark trepidation there.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered as he took his seat.

Harry shook his head in wonderment then looked up at her and smiled as the memory of the Quidditch match rushed through him.

"Harry?" Hermione nearly choked.

"Blimey," Ron breathed. "'d he give you some kind of potion?"

"No," Harry said as though that made no sense. He saw McGonagall moving toward them "Not now," Harry whispered.

"Potter, did you get detention from Professor Snape?" she asked as she peered at him through her half-moon glasses, still holding the note out in her hand.

"No ma'am," Harry replied politely.

"All right. Seemed a little early in the year for that, frankly." She stepped away.

Later, out on the lawn, Ron and Hermione wouldn't let the topic rest. "Look, I don't want to go into it in detail," Harry snapped at them which brought them up short instantly. He sighed at their ultra carefulness and tried to explain. "Snape just repeated a few things Dumbledore had said and somehow coming from him they seemed much more . . critical."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that I care and feel pain. That’s the one weapon I have that Voldemort doesn't and giving that up is going to get me killed."

"That doesn't sound like a weapon," Ron said.

Harry gave him a pained look, finally, he said, "Ron, I didn't tell you guys this but, in the middle of the battle in the Ministry Entrance Hall, Voldemort completely took me over and tried to get Dumbledore to kill me to get at him."

Ron squeaked in horror and Hermione put her hand over her mouth.

"What happened?" Hermione managed, muffled by her hand.

Harry hesitated a long time. "I wanted him to. I was in agony. It was like crucio times ten having him inside me. And I thought, if he kills me, I'll get to see Sirius. Voldemort couldn't keep a hold of me when I was feeling that emotion." He paused, pained by memory. "So it is a weapon, you see."

His friends didn’t look too convinced but they didn’t argue.

* * *

After dinner, Harry had Occlumency with Dumbledore again. Harry didn't hesitate to use the knocker. "Come in, Harry," Dumbledore invited and Harry opened the door. On the desk were two cold butterbeers. Harry sat down in the straightbacked chair opposite the Headmaster's. Dumbledore pushed a bottle over to Harry, watching him closely.

Harry thanked him and, suddenly thirsty, drank down half of it. "Are we practicing the same partitioning thing again today, sir?"

"Yes, Harry. We are." Dumbledore sat back with his bottle. "Are you feeling a little better?"

Harry nodded, flushing a little.

"I am very glad to hear that," Dumbledore said.

Harry frowned. "I was trying to get away from the pain," he commented.

"Was it working?"

"Yes. But I was getting away from everything else too."

"Fun is one of the reasons for existing," Dumbledore said.

Harry smiled lightly at that.

"Well, shall we see how well your basic mode holds up before we return to the partitioning?" At Harry's nod, Dumbledore said, "When you are ready, just nod."

Harry closed his eyes a moment to prepare. He looked at the headmaster and nodded

Dumbledore's mind caught for just an instant then slid away. He smiled broadly. "Very good, Harry." He toasted the Harry with his butterbeer before banishing the half-full bottle.

They fell into a rhythm of Harry thinking of something to hide and Dumbledore retrieving it. After a half hour Harry didn't feel like he was making any progress and he was getting tired.

"Are we on the hundredth time, yet?" Harry asked.

"Not yet, my boy. Don't get discouraged, let's go again."

Harry realized that the repeated practices he'd had with Snape last year were really how you had to learn this. At that thought of Snape, Harry thought of the Quidditch Match just as Dumbledore got through. The Headmaster froze. "Did you steal another look into Professor Snape's pensieve, my boy?" he asked in a serious tone, eyes sharply blue.

"No, sir," Harry said honestly. At Dumbledore's extremely doubtful look, Harry added, "He let me."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "Since I am certain you have not mastered partitioning, I have to believe you."

"It was after he yelled at me for being glum."

Dumbledore leaned back with a stunned expression and steepled his fingers. "He yelled at you?"

"Yes." Then in a rush, Harry explained, "He said everyone was doing their part and I had to do mine and repeated what you said about feelings being the only weapon I had and that my father would not approve." Harry took a breath. He almost wanted to laugh at Dumbledore's expression.

"Well, I had believed Professor Snape beyond surprising me, but apparently I was mistaken. I am very grateful he did that, Harry. Some of those things are much more powerful coming from him."

"Yeah," Harry breathed. "He doesn't normally have any concern for my well-being, so it jolted me out of it."

"I do trust Professor Snape completely, Harry."

"Hermione keeps reminding me of that."

Dumbledore smiled at that. "Well, Harry. Why don't we stop for today. I apologize for falsely accusing you."

"It's all right, sir. I learned my lesson about pensieves last time."

* * *

Harry continued to feel more like his old self as the term progressed. He found he could manage to have enough fun to balance out the pain that was slowly loosening its grip on him.

Unfortunately for Harry, at the same time, others were starting to get their grip and darker plans were falling into motion.