lomonaaeren

In response to the story of Sirius Black and his horrific betrayal, Harry grew quiet and cradled the cup of tea Severus had made for him far longer than it would have been necessary. Then he whispered, “And you said that Black is in prison and he’s never going to get out?”

“That’s right.” Severus sipped from his own tea and wished that he had a subtle way of slipping Firewhisky into it. He had strained himself not in speaking of the incident but in trying not to make his antagonism towards Black and James Potter too obvious. “And he is surrounded by Dementors, who bring up all his worst memories over and over again.”

“Do we know that his betrayal is the worst of his memories?”

“No. But he grew up in a household that was not pleasant, according to his brother. So that is perhaps what he remembers.”

Harry paused. Then he said, “His brother?”

“Sirius Black was Sorted into Gryffindor. His family—the rest of his immediate family, at least—was Sorted into Slytherin. Regulus Black, his younger brother, was in the year below us and spent some time confessing Black’s secrets to me when he found out—”

Severus cut himself off, silently turning his fury on his own soul. It was a good thing he could not have Firewhisky after all, if he would do this kind of thing.

“When he found out what, sir?”

Severus stared at the young man on the other side of the table—young man for all that he was only twelve—and then set aside his cup. Yes, he knew he could lose Harry’s trust easily if it turned out that he was lying to him. He would have to speak of what he had been keeping hidden, and hope that he could do it in such a fashion that he could spare Harry’s feelings.

“Sirius Black was a member of a gang of Gryffindors who called themselves the Marauders, and who bullied other students. I was their particular target.”

“You wouldn’t need to hide that from me, sir. What more is there?”

Severus stared again at those green eyes. Not guileless, but one might think they were. Not innocent, but one might think they were. And for the sake of preserving what innocence Harry had left, Severus would speak.

“Your father was one of the Marauders as well.”

Harry made a sharp gesture with one hand. Then he pulled his fingers back, and rested them flat on the table. His eyes were fastened on Severus, but his voice was calm as he said, “What did you do to them in return?”

Severus swallowed against the overwhelming bitterness. Of course he should have assumed that Harry would think Severus was the instigator, or the worse person in the situation.

He held his voice and posture still as he replied, “I did hex them. I cursed them a few times.”

Harry paused, although how he did that without moving, Severus did not know. Then Harry said, “I didn’t mean that I thought you—deserved what happened. I wanted to know how you retaliated. No one should simply accept that.”

Severus blinked and stared. Harry kept staring without blinking. Severus was the one who finally looked aside and said quietly, “I did not keep myself from retaliating. In the end, though, I spent my spite on the person who least deserved it. Your mother.”

“What happened, sir?”

And Severus found himself telling the story of his worst memory to a boy who looked at him with Lily’s green eyes and only said, when Severus had finished it, “I would have done the same thing you did.”

It was lacerating. It was forgiveness.

*

“Do you think it’s strange that the Headmaster hasn’t found out I’m not with the Dursleys, sir?”

Severus blinked away the mist of research ideas in his head and looked up from his book to see Harry standing in front of him with his hands folded behind his back. “No,” he said absently. “I do not think he would go and look.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he never has, has he?”

Harry’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he smiled. It was a sharp, glittering, foxlike thing. Severus had to admit that he enjoyed the sight of James Potter’s son smiling that way. And if gradually he was losing that kind of pleasure and only thinking that it was good Harry could smile that way…

He need not admit that to anyone else.

“Good point,” Harry said, and sat down with his own book. It was a tome of Dark Ars spells from Severus’s private library.

It was not, perhaps, the kind of book Severus himself would have picked out for Harry, but then again, trying to keep knowledge from him was what Albus had done. Severus would let Harry choose his own path, and only act to guide him away from it if he proved he was doing harm to others.

Severus doubted he would. Harry was much more self-protective than he was interested in causing others pain.

Later, too, he would have cause to doubt that conclusion.

*

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPED FORM AZKABAN!

Severus rubbed his forehead when he saw the headline. So soon after he had finished reassuring Harry that Sirius Black was imprisoned in Azkaban for the rest of his life, this felt like a mockery from the gods he had once believed in.

But at least Harry knew the truth, and would not be caught completely off-guard.

Harry did sit still for a long time when he saw the paper, his eyes locked on the photograph of Black with his hair tossing around him.

Then he said, “He looks even madder than I thought he would,” and laid his paper aside to eat his breakfast.

Severus sighed, and went back to eating his own.

*

“Can you teach me Occlumency, sir?”

Severus blinked at Harry for a long moment. He’d just come out of the little lab that he kept at Spinner’s End, and his mind was spinning through improvements he might be able to make to the Blood-Replenisher, which hadn’t been truly improved in all the years since it had first been created.

Then he snapped back to the present and frowned at Harry. He could understand being asked for Defense training with Black on the loose, but why Occlumency?

“Is there a reason that you’d like to learn that, Mr. Potter?”

“So you do know it.”

Severus shook his head, amused despite himself by the test in the form of a question. “Yes, I do. But you should know that it’s intrinsically difficult, and will involve months of meditation and simple exercises before you manage to even begin defending your mind.”

“That’s all right, sir. I don’t care. But I want to learn it.”

“Why?”

Harry’s face shifted and changed. He had been looking at Severus with his eyes unshuttered, but now he turned away and stared out the window.

“I read about it in one of your books,” he said, voice so soft that Severus had to strain to hear him. “And I realized that I would be vulnerable to anyone who knew it. I know you did. What about the Headmaster?”

Despite himself, Severus was impressed that Harry had figured that out. He nodded. “And also the Dark Lord.”

“So maybe Quirrell was reading my mind during my first year?”

“It’s possible.”

Harry tightened his spine. “Then I’d like to know it. My thoughts are mine. Sometimes they’ve been all that was. I’m going to protect them, and that means I can protect myself better from the enemies who matter.”

“I will teach you if you agree to keep up your physical training. Black is also an enemy, and will attack you in ways that have nothing to do with Occlumency.”

“Of course, sir. I promise I won’t neglect it. But if it comes to it, I would prefer to run away instead of engaging him.’

“Sensible. Very well.”

As Severus went to take down the book of simple Occlumency exercises that he had learned from when he first began to battle Legilimency, he was startled to see the triumph etched across Harry’s face. But he shrugged off his uneasiness.

Even if Harry had manipulated Severus into teaching him, it did not matter. Occlumency would be a useful skill for him to know against the Dark Lord, and it would grant him a clearer mind and stronger memory.

Severus could see nothing in it to do any harm.

*

“Would you mind fetching Mr. Potter to the train station again, Severus?”

The request contented Severus extremely. It meant that Albus did not know where Harry had spent the summer—or, what might be equally as likely, that he knew Harry had spent the summer with Severus but saw no reason to make a fuss about it. Either way, Severus could live with that.

He started when they appeared in King’s Cross and stared wildly around. Then he told himself not to be stupid. There was not—they could not be here.

“Sir? What’s wrong?”

Harry had noticed, of course. Severus turned towards him and told the truth, as he had been doing since the last days of last term. “I thought I sensed Dementors nearby. But surely the Ministry would have put it about if they intended to have Dementors ride the train. In search of Sirius Black, I presume.”

“Would they have? Are you sure about that?”

Severus frowned. No, he was not. Not least because the Ministry wouldn’t have wanted to deal with outraged parents and the owls that were sure to ensue.

And because he did not mistrust his instincts, even if the Dementors were approaching King’s Cross at the moment instead of here, or if they had recently been here and the echo of cold was speaking to him.

“Could you Apparate me to Hogwarts, sir?”

Severus blinked at the boy. It seemed to him that he did that far too often, and the only redeeming feature of this particular gesture was that no one was paying attention to them in the crowd around the train.

“Do you not wish to ride the train with your friends?”

“What friends?”

“I thought that Mr. Weasley was—close to you. And Mr. Malfoy last year seemed to be on better terms with you.”

Harry gave a bitter little laugh. It lit up his green eyes in ways that made Severus shudder to recall from his own memories.

“I still talk to Ron, but he didn’t—take it well that you were the one who went into the Chamber of Secrets after his little sister and I didn’t. And Malfoy is just a sycophant like so many people who want the Boy-Who-Lived to pay attention to them.”

A distant echo of sadness touched Severus, that the boy had had to learn this so young. Then again, it was better than him being taken in by people like Draco. Severus had some fondness for Draco, but he was too much the born sycophant, the user.

“In that case, I would be happy to Apparate you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry grasped Severus’s arm, and they vanished with a crack.