The walk from Snape's office back to Ravenclaw Tower was a blur. Harry's mind was caught in a storm of questions...
Occlumency, Legilimency, and most confusing of all, Snape's behavior.
Harry couldn't decide what unsettled him more, the mind-invasion or how Snape had looked at him when he mentioned his mother.
There had been no malice in his eyes.
Only something raw, painful, and deeply buried.
By the time Harry climbed through the entrance to the common room, Hermione was already waiting for him, a thick book resting on her lap. She looked up immediately when he entered, her eyes narrowing as she spotted his expression.
"What happened?" she asked, shutting the book and setting it aside.
Harry hesitated, then crossed the room and sat across from her. "You remember the letter I got?"
Hermione nodded.
"It was from Snape," Harry admitted, his voice low. "He wanted to talk to me"
Hermione's brows furrowed. "Snape? Why?"
Harry took a breath and launched into the full explanation. He told her everything, how Snape had revealed his natural Occlumency, how it protected his mind without him knowing, and how Snape had offered to teach him control.
He even mentioned the way Snape brought up his mother.
Hermione's expression shifted rapidly from disbelief to intrigue to mild concern. When Harry finished, there was a long silence.
"…He offered to teach you?" Hermione finally asked, sounding astounded.
"Yeah."
She leaned forward, still looking skeptical. "But why? Snape's… well, he's never been friendly toward you. Why would he suddenly care if you could protect your mind or not?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But he seemed serious about it — like he had to do it. He said my Occlumency was linked to something greater and that if I didn't learn to control it, someone could get into my head."
Hermione bit her lip, her curiosity piqued. "And you think it's true?"
Harry hesitated. "I mean… it makes sense. Remember how I told you about my dreams? The ones that felt different — like they weren't really mine?"
She nodded slowly.
"Well, Snape said a strong Occlumens can block out things like that. And… I don't know, I just feel like he's right about it."
Hermione mulled it over for a long moment before speaking. "But Snape hates you, always taking away points."
Harry hesitated. "…I don't think he hates me."
Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Harry, he takes points from you for breathing too loudly in class."
"I know," Harry admitted. "But today was different. He looked at me differently. And he talked about my mum a lot." His voice grew quieter. "He even said I had more of her in me than he thought."
Hermione's skeptical expression faltered slightly. "…That's odd."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a moment longer. Eventually, Hermione exhaled. "I mean… if he really wants to teach you, I don't see why you shouldn't learn it. Protecting your mind sounds incredibly important."
Harry nodded. "I think so too."
"But," Hermione added, narrowing her eyes. "I still don't trust him."
Harry let out a small laugh. "Yeah, me neither. Not completely, anyway."
After finishing his homework and bidding Hermione goodnight, Harry slipped into his four-poster bed, still unsettled, but Harry's mind never strayed far from his conversation with Snape. Occlumency. His mother.
Occlumens…
The word echoed in his mind as he slowly drifted to sleep.
It was cold.
Harry found himself standing in a grassy field, the sky dark with an impending storm. Trees surrounded him like looming specters, and in the distance, he saw the edge of a forest he somehow recognized as the Forbidden Forest.
Then he heard it, muffled voices.
"…I don't care, Snivellus!"
Harry turned sharply toward the sound.
There, standing a few feet ahead of him, was his father, a younger version than he saw in the mirror, clad in Hogwarts robes.
His face was lit with that same mischievous grin Harry had seen in pictures, but there was a sharp edge to his tone.
Facing him, standing rigid and tense, was a teenage Severus Snape. His hair was greasy, his robes slightly tattered, and his thin face twisted in anger.
"You think you're better than me, Potter?" Snape spat.
James laughed coldly. "I know I am."
A spike of discomfort stabbed Harry's chest.
"Leave him alone," another voice piped up.
Harry's head snapped around. There she was... His mother.
Lily Evans.
She was standing a short distance behind Snape, her vivid green eyes narrowed with fury. Her gaze locked on James, burning with disappointment. "What's your problem?"
James shrugged, trying to look casual. "Come on, Evans. Just having a bit of fun—"
"It's not fun, it's bullying."
James faltered slightly. "…It's Snivellus. He deserves it."
"No, he doesn't," Lily snapped. "And I don't know why I even bother talking to you if you think this is okay."
The hurt on James's face was clear, but it was nothing compared to the hollow, resigned look on Snape's face as he stared at the ground.
Harry felt his heart constrict.
"C'mon, Evans," James tried again. "I'm just messing around—"
Lily shook her head, disgusted. "You're awful."
The scene suddenly shifted.
Now, Harry was in the Gryffindor common room.
Lily sat near the fireplace, clearly upset, while James hovered awkwardly behind her. Snape was nowhere to be seen.
"…I just don't understand why you spend time with him," James admitted.
Lily's voice was quiet but sharp. "Because he's my friend."
"He's dark, Lily. Everyone says so."
"I don't care what everyone says," Lily snapped. "He's not like that — he's just… misunderstood."
James hesitated. "…I don't get it."
Lily turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "And that is why you'll never understand."
The dream shifted again.
Now Snape was alone. Older.
He was standing in a destroyed bedroom, his face gaunt and haggard. Tears streaked down his face as he clutched something in his hand, Lily's lifeless body lay behind him crumpled like a broken doll.
Harry felt his breath hitch.
"…Please," Snape choked out, his voice hoarse. "Anything. Anything to keep her son safe."
Dumbledore walked through the doorway behind him. "Then you know what you must do."
"…Always," Snape whispered brokenly.
The dream fractured.
Harry's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. His breath came in sharp gasps as he stared at the canopy above his bed, sweat clinging to his skin.
What was that?
It hadn't felt like a dream. It felt like… memories. Snape's memories. His parents' memories. But how?
Shaking, Harry sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. His mind raced, trying to piece it together. Why would I dream about that?
Then he remembered Snape's words. "You repel intrusion without realizing it, but someone skilled in Legilimency could still slip through the cracks."
Had he accidentally done the opposite? Had his mind slipped into Snape's during their lesson earlier?
Harry swallowed hard. He couldn't know for sure, but one thing was certain.
Severus Snape had loved his mother.
And it had destroyed him.
Harry pulled his blankets closer, trying and failing to push the image of his mother's lifeless body, and the shattered man who had loved her from his mind.