Stiff—of course he was stiff.
Naturally Sirius knew that Snape was the most skilled master of Occlumency, but the problem was—it was Snape.
If it were anyone else, Sirius would have gone without hesitation to plead his case. But because it was Snape…
The bigger problem was that if he went to Snape to ask him to teach Harry the advanced use of Occlumency, he would inevitably be subjected to Snape's merciless mockery.
No one knew better than Sirius how venomous the greasy bat's tongue could be.
If he stepped into that office, he was bound to be torn apart by sarcasm.
And yet, if he didn't go to Snape, there was truly no one better suited for the task.
At the moment, Sirius was caught in an impossible dilemma.
If he went forward, Snape would make him suffer endlessly. If he retreated… he couldn't bear to see his godson shackled by two women, bridled and saddled like a horse.
Seeing his godfather's hesitation, Harry tentatively asked, "Maybe… godfather, perhaps we should just forget it?"
The moment Harry said that, Sirius knew he had no choice but to go.
"Go? Of course we're going!" Sirius slapped his thigh, wearing the air of someone determined to face duty head-on. "Don't you worry, Harry! I'll make that greasy git agree, and you'll be learning advanced Occlumency with him in no time!"
Harry lit up with delight.
Saved at last, he thought with relief.
Sirius was always a man of action. Once he made up his mind, he never delayed.
So without hesitation, he left the office, telling Harry to sit tight, and strode off toward the Potions classroom.
Left behind, Harry sat idly, bored out of his mind.
He noticed Sirius's desk was piled with letters, their envelopes decorated with hearts—obviously those kinds of letters.
Harry had no habit of prying into others' privacy, so after a quick glance he left them alone and went back to waiting.
He waited half an hour.
The longer he waited, the more uneasy he felt.
Bloody hell—what if the two of them had already started dueling?
In his mind, Harry began to picture all sorts of chaotic scenes playing out in Snape's office…
The more he thought, the more wrong it seemed. He ought to rush over and break it up—or at least shout, "Stop fighting, both of you!"
He was just standing to head out when Sirius finally returned, looking utterly defeated.
"It's settled."
Sirius sighed and dropped into his chair. "The greasy git agreed. From now on, you'll be learning advanced Occlumency with him."
Harry looked closely—something was… off.
He sat down again and asked carefully, "What's wrong, godfather?"
"Nothing." Sirius casually shoved the letters into a drawer. "Relax, Harry. Surprisingly enough, Snape was easy to talk to. That I didn't expect."
Easy to talk to?
Who?
Professor Snape?
If a Slytherin had said that—or if Lily had—Harry might have believed it.
But Sirius Black, a Gryffindor through and through…
Not to mention, one of Snape's greatest enemies in life…
And Snape, "easy to talk to"?
"Really? I don't believe it." Harry's head filled with wild imaginings—Snape taking advantage of his godfather, blackmailing him, forcing him into some terrible sacrifice just to let Harry receive special lessons.
"What's not to believe?" Sirius chuckled, clearly missing the point.
"You must have made a huge sacrifice to get me this chance!"
Harry, swept up in his own dramatics, threw his arms around Sirius and said passionately, "If it meant you had to sacrifice something, then I'd rather not learn advanced Occlumency at all!"
Sirius: ¿۰۰۰۰۰
When I use that symbol, it doesn't mean I have a problem—it means you do…
"What on earth are you on about…" Sirius muttered, exasperated. "No, you've got it wrong, Harry. The greasy git agreed right away. No threats, no bargains. He wouldn't dare!"
But Sirius's firmness only deepened Harry's conviction that his own suspicions were correct.
"Then why did you look so miserable when you came back?" Harry pressed.
Sirius's face twitched.
"It was Hagrid," he said with a shiver. "I ran into him outside. He tried to give me more than a hundred pounds of rock cakes. I made an excuse not to take them, but—you know how he is. Took all my strength just to escape…"
Harry pictured the scene and shuddered too.
Over a hundred pounds of rock cakes—Merlin's candied plums…
"Those cakes," Sirius continued, gesturing with his hands to form a circle, "those cakes! Even Hagrid could barely hold them!"
"True enough." Harry nodded. "Forget whether you can bite into them—just imagine how long it would take to eat them."
Sirius glanced at the closed door behind them.
"Although, maybe we could ask Hagrid for a few. They might not be edible, but when Moony transforms, they'd make perfect chew toys—you know how strong a werewolf's urge to bite is. Those cakes would keep him busy for hours."
Harry looked at Sirius, thinking, You really are Remus's best mate.
But then again—that's what being a brother meant. No one else would joke like that.
"Settled then!" Sirius said brightly. "I'll fetch some from Hagrid. The full moon's coming soon—Moony will love them!"
"…I…"
Harry thought better of speaking, and closed his mouth.
If the older generation liked their games, let them play. No need for him to butt in.
"What is it?" Sirius asked, concerned.
"Nothing." Harry shook his head, reassured that his godfather hadn't signed away his soul to Snape.
"All right then, off you go." Sirius waved a hand. "I've got letters to answer…"
Letters?
Harry perked up immediately.
"Is it to my new godmother?" he asked nosily.
Sirius gave him a flat look. "No. Just pen pals. Nothing exciting, Harry."
Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't press.
"I'll go to Professor Snape, then, godfather." He stood to leave.
"Go on." Sirius bit the cap off a quill and began scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment.
Harry discreetly cast a small observation charm, hovering it above Sirius's head to spy on what he was writing.
"My dearest…"
That was enough.
No doubt about it—he was writing to women.
Leaving Sirius's office, Harry headed straight for Professor Snape's.
He didn't want to waste time—what if Snape was bribed by Veratia or Cassandra and refused to teach him Occlumency? He needed to strike fast.
At least, he thought, if he could master the theory today, he could practice on his own later.
Knocking, then stepping inside, he was immediately greeted by that familiar greasy, drawling voice.
"I thought you wouldn't come."
Harry followed the sound. Snape sat at his desk, marking essays, not even bothering to look up.
Remembering Sirius's odd reaction earlier, Harry decided to test him—see if he had forced his godfather into some humiliating bargain.
"Sorry, professor." Harry smiled. "My godfather just returned to his office, and as soon as I got the message, I came right away…"
"Just returned?"
Snape let out a sharp, derisive laugh. "So that mangy black dog left my office only to go rummage through the garbage elsewhere…"
Harry's worries eased. Just as Sirius had said—Snape had agreed quickly.
"Since your canine godfather begged me to teach you advanced Occlumency, I suppose I'll bear the burden. But don't expect that thick skull of yours to learn much."
Snape began his trademark scathing opening remarks, dripping with disdain.
Harry was long accustomed to it. Everyone at Hogwarts was—Slytherins included.
"And what stage have you reached?" Snape suddenly asked.
"Emptying my mind," Harry answered simply.
Snape nodded, lifted his wand from the desk, and said, "Prepare yourself. Control your thoughts. Restrain your emotions."
"Legilimens!"
Moments later, Snape lowered his wand.
He had seen nothing—only blankness.
"Not bad," he said tonelessly. "I've nothing more to teach you. You may leave."
Leave?
Impossible.
Harry had worked so hard for this chance—he wasn't about to let it slip away.
"But professor," Harry said quickly, "that's only the most basic Occlumency. I've read that advanced Occlumency can project false memories to an intruder. I want to learn that!"
Snape narrowed his eyes, staring so intently that Harry's skin crawled.
"What is it?" Harry asked nervously.
Snape's mouth twisted.
"You're nothing like your father, Potter. He was arrogant, lazy…"
"Don't speak ill of my father, professor," Harry said wearily. "At least not to my face. Don't you agree?"
Snape's smirk didn't reach his eyes, but he relented. "Very well. I should admit, for your age—ah, I forget. You aren't really a third-year, are you?"
Harry thought about it. Fair enough. Back in his third year, he had been far more carefree, running off with Poppy into the Forbidden Forest, only to be scolded by Cassandra for being lazy, arrogant, and incorrigible.
Kids were supposed to play—that was normal. Anyone who didn't was extraordinary, rare beyond compare.
"So, do you have any advice, professor?" Harry tried to steer the conversation back on track.
"I have no advice, Potter." Snape tucked his wand back into his robes.
No advice? That wouldn't do. How could he teach with no guidance?
Before Harry could protest, Snape continued: "Brew a potion, Potter."
Harry frowned, puzzled, but did as told, moving to the cauldron.
"Ingredients for a Buffering Draught are on the table. Frog brains in the small vial below," Snape instructed curtly.
Harry didn't know why, but he understood the rules—if he wanted to learn, he had to follow.
So he prepared the ingredients, and after half an hour, a steaming cauldron of Buffering Draught was ready.
Snape didn't even look. "Too slow, Potter. That won't do. Start again."
Harry took a deep breath.
Fine…
He'd half a mind to pour the draught down Snape's throat, but thought better of it.
So he went back to the cauldron and tried again.
This time, he thought grimly, Slow? I'll show you speed and efficiency.
With a flick of his wand, he guided the cauldron with ancient magic.
Fifty seconds later, another batch of Buffering Draught was finished.
"Done, professor."
Harry placed it on Snape's desk, his tone flat.
Still, Snape didn't glance at it.
"So you remember," he said lazily. "You and your mother—both inheritors of ancient magic."
Harry felt as though he had grasped something important, but it slipped away.
Seeing his confusion, Snape snorted.
"Perhaps you should speak with Miss Grindelwald about applying ancient magic to Occlumency, instead of pestering your poor old professor to teach you trivial spells."
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