Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - C.1030: Sirius and Snape’s Conversation

Unlike Elaine, who had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts, Harry now had completely opposite thoughts.

He was still immersed in the events in Norway, and for the first time in his life, he was not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Going back to school would mean placing himself once again under the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge, who had no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in their absence, or she might ask him and Evan where they went this vacation. Then there was no Quidditch to look forward to.

As the exams drew even nearer, there was every likelihood that their burden of homework would increase.

In fact, if it had not been for the D.A. and Cho supporting him, Harry felt he might have gone to Sirius and begged him to let him leave Hogwarts and remain in Grimmauld Place.

He should go back, Cho was still waiting for him, this time, he must seize the opportunity to ask her out, and then…

Harry encouraged himself, but on the very last day of the holidays, something happened that made him positively dread his return to school.

This matter had something to do with Snape and his intention to teach him Occlumency.

“Harry dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, poking her head into their bedroom. Harry was playing wizard chess with Ron watched by Evan, Hermione, Ginny, Elaine and Crookshanks, “could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you.”

“What?!” Harry didn’t react for a moment.

One of his castles was engaged in a violent tussle with a pawn of Ron’s, and he was egging it on enthusiastically.

“Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He’d like a word.” Mrs. Weasley repeated.

“It must be about Occlumency. Go, Harry!” Evan said.

Harry stood up hesitantly, Elaine had taken his place. Crookshanks, whom Hermione had been restraining with difficulty for the past quarter of an hour, leapt gleefully upon the board and set the pieces running for cover, squealing at the top of their voices.

“Snape?”

“Professor Snape, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley reprovingly. “Now come on, quickly, he says he can’t stay long.”

Harry looked back at everyone, and then followed Mrs. Weasley out as if heading to the gallows.

He knew about it but hadn’t been ready for it until now.

Dumbledore had said that the connection between Voldemort and Harry was harmful to his soul. He might not have insisted on this if it weren’t for that.

But to be on the safe side, Harry must learn Occlumency to completely eliminate this hidden danger.

This was a very obscure branch of magic, and even with Evan’s deliberate study over the years, he had only just scratched the surface, enough to protect himself from Dumbledore’s prying.

Snape was the master of this spell; he could completely close his brain and heart.

Neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort would know any secrets he wanted to conceal from them.

Therefore, in theory, having Snape teach Harry Occlumency was the best option.

Sirius also said that he would talk to Snape and ask him to teach Harry with dedication.

A minute or two later, Harry pushed open the kitchen door to find Sirius and Snape both seated at the long kitchen table, glaring in opposite directions.

The silence between them was heavy with mutual dislike and it was clear that they were having a failed conversation.

“Er,” said Harry to announce his presence.

Snape looked around at him, his face framed between curtains of greasy black hair.

“Sit down, Potter.”

“You know,” said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, “I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It’s my house, you see.”

Snape did not retort, and an ugly flush suffused his pallid face.

Harry sat down next to Sirius and looked at Snape across the table evasively.

“I was supposed to see you alone, Potter,” said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, “but Black…”

“I’m his godfather,” said Sirius, louder than ever. “I want to discuss with you the matter of teaching Harry.”

“Keep your voice down, Black. I’m here on Dumbledore’s orders, having to accept this unpleasant task,” said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish as he looked at Harry maliciously. “Not for your sake; but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel … involved.”

Sirius stared at him fiercely, but Snape acted as if he didn’t exist.

“The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.”

“I know, I’ve worked with Evan before…”

“It seems that Mr. Know-It-All did not teach you how to close your mind, or else this situation wouldn’t have occurred, would it?” Snape disdainfully remarked. “You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Mason. You understand?”

“I understand,” Harry hesitated before reluctantly replying.

“Very good!” Snape got to his feet and continued to ignore Sirius. He seemed unwilling to stay for a moment longer. “I will expect you at six o’clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them.”

He turned to leave, his black traveling cloak billowing behind him.

“Wait a moment,” said Sirius, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Snape turned back to face him, sneering.

“I am in rather a hurry, Black!”

“I’ll get to the point, then,” said Sirius, standing up. He was rather taller than Snape who, Harry noticed, had balled his fist in the pocket of his cloak over what Harry was sure was the handle of his wand. “You understand, Snape, if I hear you’re using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“How touching,” Snape sneered. “But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?”

“Yes, I have,” said Sirius proudly.

“Well then, you’ll know he’s so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him,” Snape said sleekly.

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own.

They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius’s wand tip to his face.

The two had fought many times at Hogwarts before, especially during the half-year when Sirius took over Lupin’s teaching duties.

Therefore, they knew each other very well. Overall, Snape’s skills were superior to Sirius’s.

In the more than ten years since Sirius’s decline in strength, Snape’s abilities had skyrocketed.

But considering Sirius’s combat style, especially in such a small space, Snape wouldn’t be able to take much advantage once a fight broke out.

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