Learning to Vanquish

With a Little Help From My Friends

Saturday morning dawned clear and chilly, perfect Quidditch weather. Harry ate breakfast calmly, but he was the only one. There were rumours flying around that the Slytherin team had decided to win the game no matter what they had to do. Harry had decided he was going to play a good and fair game and not let Malfoy, or any of the other players, get to him. When they got to the pitch, they found that Malfoy had been made the captain of the Slytherin team. He shook hands with Katie, apparently trying to crush her hand, and then got ready for Madam Hooch's whistle.

The Slytherins were playing the dirtiest game they ever had. Their Chasers continually bumped and interfered with the Gryffindor Chasers and their Beaters hit every Bludger they could straight at Harry. More than once, Harry found himself grateful he was flying a Firebolt; it was only his broom's agility that kept him from getting hurt. At the beginning of the game, the Slytherins were singing "Weasley Is Our King", but they quickly realized that, this year, it made Ron play even better. The Chasers started aiming the Quaffle directly at Ron, instead of the hoops, in the hope of hurting Ron badly enough to take him out of the game. Madam Hooch blew her whistle over and over, assigning penalties to the Slytherin team and getting louder and louder in her assessments of their strategy. After the first hour, the score was 90-30 in Slytherin's favour and the Gryffindor team was struggling to keep playing; they were all getting hurt.

Then, Harry saw the Snitch. It was circling one of the Slytherin's goal posts, right next to their Keeper. Draco was much closer to it than Harry was; he knew he'd have to fake the other Seeker out to have a chance at catching the winged, gold ball first. He turned toward the Gryffindor goal and dived for the ground. Draco saw him and raced toward him, obviously hoping to beat him to the Snitch. As soon as Draco was right next to him, Harry swung his broom around and raced toward the Slytherin goals. The Snitch was still there! Malfoy chased him, as did Crabbe and Goyle, the two Beaters sending every Bludger they could straight at him. Harry swerved and dived, using every trick at his disposal to avoid the Bludgers. Just as he came up on the Snitch, it decided to go through one of the goals. Harry circled to the other side and caught it just as it came through. As he heard "Harry Potter's caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" he was hit by a Bludger he hadn't seen. He hung onto both his broom and the Snitch, but went diving down to the ground. As he fell, he saw the second Bludger come up toward him. He tried to avoid it but wasn't able to. It hit his head and everything went dark.

Harry gradually woke up. He could hear his teammates talking around him; he suspected he was once more in the Hospital Wing. He decided to listen for a few minutes before he opened his eyes, to see what was going on.

"Since both Crabbe and Goyle hit Bludgers at Harry after he had caught the Snitch, Madam Hooch has suspended them from playing the next game," Katie said.

Harry couldn't resist. He opened his eyes and looked at his teammates. "Crabbe and Goyle have both been suspended from a match. Too bad she won't suspend them for the rest of the season," Harry snarled. "It'd serve them right."

"Yeah, but it's still pretty good," Jack Sloper said. "Not only did they both get the suspension, she told Snape off in front of the whole school for the dirtiest game she has ever seen. While we were getting you up here, Draco came up and started insulting Ron; you know the usual insults. Professor McGonagall heard it and took twenty-five points for unsportsmanlike behaviour. And, since Ron had been keeping his mouth shut, Snape couldn't do anything about it."

"Yeah, well, I was too busy being worried about you," Ron admitted, grinning. "I think he got as bad as he did because I couldn't be bothered listening to him. Draco Malfoy hates being ignored."

Harry grinned. "So their Beaters each get a game suspension, their House loses an additional twenty-five points and Snape gets publicly reprimanded. Can it get any better than this?"

"Yes, it can," Harry heard Madam Pomfrey say behind him. "You will once again survive the damage you've had done to yourself by playing this foolish game. Let me check you over." Harry had the feeling she was a little disappointed he wasn't more badly injured; she seemed to want to scold him some more. "You may go, but you're to come back straight away if your head starts hurting, you get queasy or you start seeing double. Do you understand me?"

Harry agreed with everything she said, and left the hospital wing for the party in Gryffindor Tower.

The Daily Prophet finally confirmed Harry's vision in Thursday morning's edition. It was as bad as Harry had feared. A group of Death Eaters had evicted the guards of Azkaban. They hadn't hurt anyone in the process and had informed the guards as they were leaving that they would continue to guard anyone sent to Azkaban; that those sentenced would not be allowed loose in the general public. The Minister gave a statement in which he claimed that those now holding Azkaban weren't Death Eaters, but a concerned private company. Harry wondered if that meant the dementors would be back working for the Death Eaters or if they were roaming the countryside attacking innocents.

Looking for Malfoy to see how he was reacting to the news, Harry discovered that the other boy was nowhere to be seen. Neither Ron nor Hermione knew where he was, but Hermione recommended he ask Blaise at the DA meeting that night.

Throughout the day Harry felt waves of overwhelming joy. He would try using Occlumency, but found that he still felt the happiness; he could just be sure that the feelings came from Voldemort instead of him. Everyone was discussing the events at Azkaban; the level of fear in the castle was much greater.

That evening, after the DA meeting, Harry asked Blaise and Daphne to stay behind. "I've been looking for Malfoy today, but he hasn't been around. Is he in the Hospital Wing or just skiving off his classes?"

"Neither," Daphne answered. "His mother arranged for him to spend today and tomorrow at home; some family thing is what he said. It's the second time it's happened, too; he went home for two days in September."

Harry tried to think of two days when Malfoy hadn't been around, but couldn't remember. "What kind of family thing? Is it because his father's in Azkaban or something else?"

Blaise had been chewing his lip but finally sighed. "I don't know exactly what it's about; I've never been high on his list of confidants, but Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott know a bit about it. Nott's been complaining that he'd be just as good a candidate as Malfoy. I think it's a Death Eater thing, and something . . . Well, he acts like it's a huge honour, whatever it is."

"That agrees with what Pansy's been saying," Daphne said. "She keeps nattering on about how important her "dear Draco" is to the cause. I don't know if any of them know exactly what he's doing, but I'll bet it's nothing good."

Harry exchanged worried looks with Ron and Hermione. This didn't sound good at all.

That night, Harry was too restless to go to sleep. His stomach was in knots and he kept feeling overwhelming feelings of happiness. He went through every technique of Occlumency he'd learned but, although he didn't see or hear anything, the feelings didn't stop.

Sitting in the common room the next day, Harry started thinking about the dream he had had the night before Halloween. He had cleared his mind before sleep but had still seen, and felt, what Voldemort had. Was it possible that Occlumency couldn't block the connection? He spent the morning reading through his Occlumency books, taking notes on anything that seemed to apply.

By the time he joined Ron and Hermione for lunch, he had decided that he wasn't very good at this kind of research. Fortunately, Hermione was. He explained the problem and what he had found.

"You mean you can't control the connection at all?" Ron asked, horrified. "That's awful!"

"I'm not sure that's true," Hermione said. "Harry doesn't seem to be able to block it, or stop it, but . . . Harry, have you tried to initiate it?"

Harry thought about it. "No. I never even thought about trying to initiate it; everyone seems really sure I shouldn't be seeing these things at all. And we don't want Voldemort to see what I do."

"Has he?" Hermione asked. "Can he? I don't think he ever has. He can, sometimes, tell when you're in his head, but the connection seems to be one-way. Maybe you should be trying to use it instead of block it?" She thought for a moment. "I think you need to discuss this with Dumbledore."

Harry agreed. He sent Hedwig with a note to the headmaster and sat down to write the twenty-inch essay on sleep potions he still had to do. Just before supper, Hedwig returned with a note. Harry opened it and read, "Come immediately after supper." in the headmaster's loopy handwriting. He showed it to Ron and Hermione and tossed it in the fire.

After a supper that didn't sit very well, Harry knocked on the door to the headmaster's office. When he entered, he found Snape there as well. Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of the headmaster.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, "after reading your note and discussing it with Severus, I believe we need to take a more careful look at this connection you have with Voldemort. It does not appear to be any type of mental connection with which we are familiar. I will ask you to be patient while we ask you a number of questions; we appear to be under some, erm, misunderstandings when it comes to these visions. First, will you please describe the dream you had the other night? I will ask you to include any dream immediately before or after; it may be significant."

Harry agreed and did his best to recreate both the original dream, the vision with Voldemort and the feelings he had the next day. He included the precise Occlumency techniques he had used at each point and when and how badly his scar hurt at all times. It took a while, but he was finally finished. "That's probably more detail than you need," he concluded, "but I thought it was better to give you too much than too little."

"Just so, dear boy," Dumbledore agreed absently. He and Snape were both quiet for several minutes as they worked through all of the information Harry had given them.

Finally, Harry felt Snape try to push into his mind. He was able to successfully push the potions master out of his mind, before he was able to see any of Harry's memories. Snape nodded and gave Harry a narrow-eyed look. Harry felt a strange feeling of disdain flow over him, as his scar began to hurt. He thought it might be from Snape and tried to push the man out again, but this time Occlumency didn't work. Instead, he found himself looking at himself and Dumbledore from the other side of the room. He heard Dumbledore ask, "Severus, what are you doing?"

The spell ended abruptly. The throbbing in Harry's head faded slowly. Snape looked at him without speaking for a moment, but then the man started pacing angrily. "The boy's a bloody empath! The training we've given him is completely useless; you know that!"

Dumbledore's eyes flew open. "Dear Merlin," he whispered. "And Voldemort thinks he's dealing with a simple mental connection. A connection based on emotion . . . Harry, do you feel Voldemort's emotions through the connection? Even when you don't see what he's seeing?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. I didn't know it was important. I feel what he feels, sometimes even if there's nothing else. Like this last dream, I could feel him most of the next day. Occlumency helped," he added, hoping to calm the two men down.

"Occlumency helped," Dumbledore repeated faintly. "That's . . . good to know. Severus, do you know how to train an empath?"

"I know it's nearly impossible," Snape said. "About the only thing an empath can be trained in is shields and even that's problematic. Mostly, we try to keep them from going mad. Potter, do you sense anyone else's emotions?"

"Just what everyone does," Harry answered. "I think. I mean, no one's ever said anything about it. Does this mean I'm going to go mad?" he asked in a small voice.

"The question is if you aren't already," Snape said, smirking.

"Severus," Dumbledore chided, "that isn't helpful. It means that most of the training we've given you is of limited use at best." He was quiet for a moment and then sat up straight, seeming to have come to a resolution. "We'll continue the Occlumency lessons and add Legilimency as well. It may not break the connection but it does seem to lessen its impact. In addition, as soon as I can find the appropriate books, you're going to have to learn how to shield your mind from incoming emotions."

"How is that different from Occlumency?" Harry asked. The two seemed the same to him.

"In Occlumency, you are protecting yourself from someone else seeing your mind. In the shielding you will have to learn, you are protecting yourself from sensing the emotions all thinking beings project. Both protect your mind but from different things. Mmm, maybe that's why Occlumency has been of some limited help." Dumbledore sat up a little straighter, his eyes once more twinkling behind the half-moon glasses. "It's getting late, Harry; you need to be off to bed. Good night."

Harry headed back to his dormitory, his head spinning. One thought kept running through his mind: He couldn't have blocked out the image of Sirius being tortured. His leaving for the Department of Mysteries hadn't been his fault.

Harry's Occlumency lessons now changed. In addition to strengthening his Occlumency, to the point that he could block both Snape and Dumbledore at once, Dumbledore was also teaching him Legilimency and helping him learn how to create and hold shields against external emotions. This last was especially difficult since it was different for each individual and both Dumbledore and Snape admitted that they had never tried learning the skill for themselves. Harry slowly improved, but it didn't help the dreams. He was starting to see through Voldemort's eyes on a nightly basis. He no longer needed emotions to break into Voldemort's mind, just to be asleep.

Malfoy said nothing about why he had been called home where Blaise or Daphne could hear it, but it was affecting him. He stopped baiting Harry and Ron; in situations in which he would once have taunted, insulted or hexed them, now he simply ignored them. It was as if, Ron said, they were completely beneath his notice. Harry did catch Malfoy examining him carefully on more than one occasion, but he would turn away when he caught Harry looking back.

A week later, Errol, the Weasley family's owl, crashed into breakfast with a letter for Ron and Ginny. After hauling the aging owl out of the scrambled eggs, Ron read the letter first, and then handed it to Ginny with a slight smile. "For once, we're getting good news from home," he said.

"Did Bill propose to Fleur?" Hermione asked.

As Ron shook his head, Ginny exclaimed, "Bloody Hell!" She looked up from the letter in shock. "Percy apologized to Mum and Dad!"

"That's wonderful news," Hermione said. "What prompted that?"

"I reckon he got tired of everybody thinking he's such a stupid git," Ron said. "Mum said he stopped Dad at work, apologized to him and went to the Burrow and did the same for her. He's going to have Sunday dinner with them."

Harry knew this was good news for the Weasleys; Percy's estrangement had hurt the whole family. The news left him feeling very unsettled, but he couldn't put his finger on why. He shook off the bad feeling and congratulated Ron and Ginny on their good news.

In the next Potions class, Snape swept into the classroom and demanded their essays on a Petrifying Draught. Harry had found this interesting since one of the ingredients was basilisk scales. He found the idea of the potion itself disturbing; if not given the antidote quickly, its victim would die of suffocation.

After collecting the essay, Snape waved his wand and the instructions for the Draught appeared on the board. When they went up to collect their supplies, Snape carefully handed each student two basilisk scales. "Be very careful with these," he said. "Basilisks are very rare and the scales, harvested by the one who killed it, are even rarer."

Harry looked up in surprise, but Snape didn't look at him. Malfoy, walking back to his desk, said to Pansy Parkinson, "They wouldn't let us use anything that rare in class. I'll bet the basilisk was no more than ten feet long." Holding one of his up, he continued, "Brilliant that we get a chance to brew this potion, though; it's both powerful and useful."

Snape heard Malfoy's disdain and responded, scowling, "As you would know if you had a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the size of the scales show that the basilisk in question was quite large. In fact, it was measured, at death, at 93 feet. Since its slayer is still living, they are quite potent."

Impressed murmuring ran around the room as Harry felt sick. Ron leaned over and whispered, "Hey, even Malfoy's impressed with you. That's worth something." Harry nodded, although the sick feeling didn't go away.

He brewed the potion, knowing as he finished that he'd managed it perfectly. His triumph shortly became dismay when Snape walked over to his cauldron after everyone was done. "Let's see if you lot managed to understand what you're supposed to do. Potter, let's see if yours was successful."

Harry looked up at Snape nervously. "Do you have the antidote?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded firm and calm, rather than as scared as he felt.

Snape sneered at him. "And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be so brave." He reached into his pocket and held up a vial with a potion the colour the antidote was supposed to be. "Right here."

Harry nodded, chin lifting to look Snape right in the eye and took the dose. He immediately felt the potion working, freezing his muscles so he couldn't move. It was a horrible feeling; Harry couldn't move or fight against it. Just as he thought he might faint from lack of oxygen, Snape gave him the antidote. "Well, against all odds, you have managed to correctly brew the potion. Congratulations." Snape then dismissed the class.

As they left the dungeons, Hermione huffed, "If you were a Slytherin, he would have given you points for that."

"If I were a Slytherin," Harry said, "he wouldn't have used me as the test subject. It's just Snape; he'll never be fair. At least I'm likely to get a decent mark on it."

The original DA had doubled in size but didn't seem to be growing any larger. Harry was discovering that teaching gave him as much joy as flying did. He also thought ruefully one evening while dodging the curses Neville was practicing that it was every bit as dangerous. The second group wasn't nearly as much fun to teach. It was larger, with almost a hundred students, and many of the students didn't seem to want to work at learning but wanted it given to them. Harry wrote a letter to Remus complaining about the problems. When he finished it, Hermione, who'd been reading over his shoulder, commented, "Why don't you split the group into two or three classes?"

Harry sighed. "I've got too much going on as it is. If I split the second DA into more groups, I won't have any time to do homework. I'm struggling to keep up as it is; you know I'm up late most nights."

"Maybe you just need to make things more efficient," Hermione said. She dug out her homework planner and tore out one of the blank calendars from the back. "What is your schedule like?"

They filled in his classes, Occlumency and Legilimency lessons, Quidditch games and practices and the DA meetings. Once he'd filled in his classes and other activities, she pursed her lips. "Isn't there anything you can give up?" she asked. "This is almost as bad as my schedule in third year and you remember how mad that was." She sat quietly for several minutes and then shook her head. "Let me think about this for a couple of days, all right?"

Although the sixth years were taking fewer classes, those classes had become much harder. With everything he was doing, even with all the late nights and long hours on the weekends, Harry found himself falling further and further behind in his classes. Hermione was always willing to help him, but he never seemed to have enough time. It began to feel like last year, when he was doing his detention with Umbridge; no matter what he did, he never seemed to have enough time. The DA and Quidditch were the only things he could drop, but he didn't want to do so. Although they took up a lot of his time, they were also the most enjoyable things he was doing these days.

In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Gillespie had begun a unit on curses and countercurses based on blood. These were curses, and countercurses, that used blood to increase their strength. He had started by going over those that were based on the shared blood of family and now moved to those that used blood taken from another. When he mentioned that, Harry sat up straight. "You can make spells more powerful just by taking another person's blood?" Harry heard Hermione breathe in sharply beside him and felt Ron sit up straighter.

"That's right, Mr. Potter," Gillespie answered. "These spells are only increased on the wizard whose blood is being used."

Before he could continue, Harry asked, "Other than what's in the text, can you point me to any books that go into this deeper?"

Gillespie frowned thoughtfully. "Since we're only going into the curses to understand the countercurses, I hadn't planned on going any deeper into this subject. And it is school policy not to teach Dark Arts." He paused, cleaning his glasses while he thought. "I'll discuss what books are, er, appropriate to recommend to you with the Headmaster." He gave Harry a piercing, thoughtful look before turning back to the blackboard and writing a list of countercurses intended to block the blood link.

After the next senior DA meeting, Hermione asked Harry to stay behind. "I have a solution to your time problem," she said.

In addition to Harry and Hermione, Ron, Susan Bones, Mandy Brocklehurst, Anthony Goldstein, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood stayed behind. When everyone else had left, Anthony started, "Hermione's talked with all of us about the insanity of your schedule. Looking at it, it's obvious that something has to give. So, we're here to help you. Susan is great with Potions, Mandy is top in Transfiguration, I'm second only to Hermione in Charms and Neville is great with Herbology. You, of course, are at the top in Defence and you do all right in Care of Magical Creatures. We'll tutor you in our best subjects. We thought we'd divide the junior DA into two groups, put Ron in charge of one and Luna in charge of the other. Hermione's great at organization and she's the best in our year overall. Are you interested?"

It took Harry a minute to get his voice under control. "I don't know what to say," he said. "I don't know how I could ever make it up to you, but I can't deny I could use the help."

Luna looked at him gravely. "I don't think you realize how much you've given us all," she said. "A lot of people died the first time around with Riddle; if you hadn't stopped him, even more would have. But that's the least important of what you've done." Anthony, Mandy and Neville looked at her as if she'd gone mad, but Hermione smiled. "Just by standing firm, you give us someone to look up to. No, you're not the best student, but that makes it easier to look up to you. You're not impossibly perfect; you're just Harry. Just Harry who lets Draco Malfoy bait you into doing stupid things, whose grades aren't anywhere near the best in the class, who probably loses your house more points than anyone else in your history and who doesn't let the pain in your life stop you from helping others. You make being brave look easy but even better, you make standing up to You-Know-Who and all the evil around us look possible. And we want to make it easier for you to be just you." All the others nodded, smiling at him.

Harry couldn't respond. He knew a lot of people thought highly of him because he was "The Boy Who Lived", but this meant so much more. It wasn't what had happened when he was a baby, no one was really certain what had happened then; this was them wanting to help him. "I'd be a fool not to accept," Harry said when he was sure his voice was under control. "There's no way I can thank you for this."

Anthony grinned. "Be slow catching the Snitch against Ravenclaw; that'd be wicked."

"No way," Harry said, grinning back as Ron started objecting to that. "I'm just glad no one's making me give up Quidditch this year."

"Actually," Hermione said as the group headed out of the Room of Requirement, "I considered suggesting that, but Ginny and Ron both threatened me, so I changed my mind." She looked at Harry with a perfectly neutral expression, which collapsed into giggles when he stared at her in horror. "I'm not serious," she managed to say. "I know how much Quidditch means to you. I don't understand it, but I do know it."

That night, Harry wrote another letter to Remus. Since the full moon was in three days, he made it a long and chatty letter, thinking to give Remus something pleasant to do while recovering. Then, after finding an unused classroom, he pulled out the mirror and called to the other universe's Sirius. It only took a minute for his face to appear.

"Harry!" he said. "It's great to see you. It is great, isn't it?" he asked, as if suddenly realizing that things might not be great on Harry's end.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Something happened today and I wanted to talk it out with someone a little more objective." He proceeded to tell Sirius about the meeting. "It feels like a cheat, somehow," he finished. "Why would everyone want to help me? I understand it of Hermione and Ron and even Luna, but why would the others want to give up their time just to help me?"

"Y'know, Harry," Sirius said, "if you get any more arrogant, we're going to have to find some way to deflate that head of yours." When Harry looked at him, confused and a little insulted, Sirius shook his head. "They want to help you because you help them. What's one of the biggest reasons you're having trouble?"

"I'm involved in too much," Harry answered. "Having Ron and Luna take over the junior DA is a huge load off me; that I understand."

"Got it in one," Sirius said. "As for the rest, I suspect that they see that you're struggling to keep up while standing between them and this Voldemort character. They may not know everything, but they know enough to know that you're trying to live up to responsibilities they won't ever see. Placed against a few hours of tutoring, they probably feel it's the least they can do."

They talked a while longer and, as they talked, Harry felt himself resolving that he would stop waiting for Voldemort, but would actively begin training. Since Sirius was encouraging him to leave things in the hands of the adults, Harry didn't bother mentioning his resolve. He decided he would ask Snape for lessons in Defence; from everything he had seen or heard, Snape would be able to help him. It wasn't something he could look forward to, exactly, but it was time to grow up and start fulfilling this destiny he seemed to have.

Two days after the full moon, Harry got a letter from Remus with the normal morning post. Since it was long, he decided to wait until he could read the whole thing without being rushed. It was lunchtime before he was able to read the letter in peace, or at least straight through.

Harry,

Two letters in less than a week; I feel quite honoured. It was nice to have something long to answer while I rested up from the moon. The research Severus is doing with the other universe is working out very nicely; this was the easiest transformation I've ever had. I had a bit of lie-in and was back to normal. Even if they can't come up with a cure, which is what they're aiming for, their results will make a large difference to people like me.

It's quite strange to have a young man who was one of my students complaining about the things I found so annoying when I was teaching. That, by the way, is a direct quote from Minerva after my first month of classes. Unless you're doing more nurturing than teaching (which has its place, don't get me wrong), teaching upper level courses is more satisfying than teaching the lower levels. Students are more interested in the subject and more willing to put in the work. I taught to the students who were willing to work at learning the material and let the rest struggle on their own. Getting someone else to teach the junior group is even more effective.

As for feeling bad about getting help, don't. None of that lot is being forced to help you. It doesn't surprise me that your classmates, all of whom are in the senior DA if I'm not mistaken, have decided to give you a hand. Accept their help with good grace and keep this in mind: they may feel it is the only way they can fight Voldemort. And everyone we can get actively on our side, in whatever capacity, is one more that won't be swayed to him.

I'm looking forward to the next time you and I can sit and talk together. Try to stay out of trouble or, at least, don't go looking for it.

Remus