Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 614 Tutoring and Tierra (Two chapters combined)

"You're taking Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Zacharys Smith cornered Harry in the foyer after breakfast on Saturday. He had originally intended to ask Harry about the Gryffindor Quidditch team's practice schedule, but he unexpectedly overheard this. "Oh, Merlin, Harry, didn't you already choose Tyrell's Dark Arts class? Why do you need to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts again?"

"Well, because my godfather came to visit me a few days ago. You know that," Harry said, racking his brains to come up with a reason.

“Ah, I know,” Zacharys Smith blurted out. “Your godfather almost got into a fight with Snape.”

“If Tiera hadn’t stopped them, they probably would have really started fighting,” Zacharias Smith said bluntly. “It’s such a shame they didn’t.”

Harry:
"But what does this have to do with you getting tutoring from Snake?" Zacharys Smith pressed on.

"Because my godfather wouldn't allow me to take Tierra's Dark Arts class. Sirius... he seems to have some prejudice against Tierra. He still believes that Dark Arts will absolutely taint our souls," Harry said, half-truthfully and half-fabricatedly. "That day, he came to discuss this matter with Headmaster Dumbledore. Of course, although Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't persuade him, he did get him to compromise. He only allowed me to take the principles of Dark Arts class, not the practical classes. If I couldn't advance to the practical Dark Arts class, I would lack the practical credits needed to become an Auror. So, I had to go to Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class to make up for those credits. And because the semester was already halfway over, Snape refused to let me join his current class because of the course selection rules. So, after Tierra and Headmaster Dumbledore took turns persuading me, he finally agreed to give me a private class. And then, I was able to get the practical credits."

“That’s such a shame, that’s terrible.” Zacharys Smith shook his head regretfully. He had obviously thought of the scene where his mother wouldn’t allow him to take Dark Arts class. Fortunately, his mother wouldn’t come to the school to see him, nor would she go directly to Headmaster Dumbledore, which would be too embarrassing. This allowed Zacharys Smith to secretly attend Tyella’s Dark Arts class, which was much more interesting than Snape’s.

After a moment of relief, Zacharias Smith asked, "Does this mean our practice this afternoon will be postponed?"

Zachary Smith finally asked the question that concerned him most. As a new member of the Gryffindor team, he was not very confident in his abilities. If it weren't for the increasingly heavy workload, he would have loved to spend every minute and second training in Quidditch.

“Huh? Oh no, our training this afternoon is still on as usual. Well, it's just that we might have to finish a little earlier,” Harry said. “Maybe. Probably at least an hour early. After all, Snape’s one-on-one tutoring is quite mentally taxing. I need to prepare in advance and think about how to deal with him.”

Harry thought about the books about Occlumency that Tyrell had given him these past few days, and he felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, that's a pity. Good luck." After offering Harry a perfunctory consolation, Zacharys Smith stopped asking questions and went about his own business.

This relieved Harry somewhat, since he was really bad at making up lies.

After seeing off the talkative Zacharys Smith, Harry took out the book "Occlumency: How to Close Your Mind" that Tyellas had given him a few days earlier and started reading, hoping to use this time to learn a little bit on his own.

At least don't let Snape make things too difficult for you at night.

Harry desperately wishes Tyrell were here with him right now, to be there for him during this anxious and difficult time.

But for some reason, Tierra has been getting busier and busier lately.

This was something Harry had noticed; he could hardly see Tyella except during class.

Furthermore, according to Hermione's description, many Tyellas have recently been involved in the forging of the Philosopher's Stone at Horace Slughorn—

At least twenty Tiera rushed back from outside the castle, appearing like bees returning to their hive in the various spaces created by the Room of Requirement.

They might be performing various calculations, or assisting in experiments by refining auxiliary materials for magic stones.

Although Harry had spent the entire day reluctantly and gloomily, time wouldn't stop just because he was unwilling—

Finally, it was six o'clock in the evening. Even the intense and joyful Quidditch training in the afternoon could not alleviate the ominous feeling that lingered in Harry's heart, and this feeling only intensified with each step he took toward Snape's office.

Harry stood outside the door for a moment, wishing he were somewhere else—

To be precise, it doesn't matter where it is, as long as it's not here.

Then Harry took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and went inside.

This is a dark and damp room—

Although Horace Lugghorn took over the Potions class, he used his old age and declining health as an excuse to refuse to use the Potions office in the basement. Instead, he set his sights on the sunny office on the second floor of Hogwarts Castle.

Therefore, Snape continued to use his original office, which was this dark and damp office in the basement.

Hundreds of glass bottles were placed on the office shelves, with sticky plant and animal specimens floating in colorful solutions.

In the corner, a cabinet was filled with Snape's past—

Not without merit – accusations that Harry stole the medicine.

But Harry's attention was drawn to the desk, where a shallow stone basin with mysterious symbols was visible in the candlelight.

Harry recognized it immediately; it was Dumbledore's Pensieve. Harry was wondering why it was there when Snape's cold voice came from the shadows, startling him.

“Close the door behind you, Potter.”

Harry did as instructed, feeling a sense of dread as he locked himself in.

Harry turned around, and Snape had already walked into the light, silently pointing to the chair opposite the desk.

Harry obediently went over and sat down, and Newnip also sat down, his cold black eyes staring unblinkingly at Harry, every line on his face etched with disgust.

“Well, Potter, you know why you’re here,” he said. “The headmaster wants me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope you’re a little smarter than you were in Potions class.”

"Yes," Harry replied, not daring to say more.

“This may not be an ordinary lesson, Potter,” Snape said, his eyes narrowing menacingly. “But I am still your teacher, and you must always call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Professor.’” “Yes, yes, yes, sir,” Harry replied helplessly.

“Alright, Occlumency, just like I told you in the Great Hall, it’s a spell that prevents the mind from being invaded and affected by magic.” Snape glared at Harry for a moment, and seeing that Harry seemed confused, Snape said in a contemptuous tone, “I think you’ve figured it out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is extremely skilled at Legilimency.”

"What does that mean, sir?" Harry asked. Tyella often mentioned the word, which seemed to be a very bad spell, so Harry never dared to ask Tyella directly what it meant, for fear of stirring up painful memories. Therefore, when Tyella mentioned the word, Harry always pretended to know it.

Of course, Harry didn't want to ask Hermione either, lest she adopt a lecturing, condescending attitude.

Of course, Harry also considered going to the library to look it up himself, but...
He always forgets.

Now that Snape had brought it up, Harry, though reluctant, raised his own question.

“That is, extracting feelings and memories from another person’s mind—” Snape explained.

"Can he read minds?" Harry asked immediately, his worst fears confirmed.

“You’re not paying attention, Potter,” Snape said, his dark eyes gleaming coldly. “You don’t understand the nuances. That’s one of the flaws that makes you mix the potion so badly.”

Snape paused for a moment, clearly savoring the pleasure of insulting Harry. He obviously didn't know, or perhaps didn't care, that Harry had already achieved excellent results in Horace Slughorn's Potions class.

Of course, Harry didn't want to argue with Snape.

Because he wanted the upcoming lessons to be easier.

Seemingly satisfied with Harry's silence, Snape continued, "Only Muggles talk about 'reading minds.' The mind isn't a book you can just flip through, nor are thoughts words etched into the skull that you can't just crawl into and read. The mind is a complex, multi-layered thing, Potter—at least most minds are."

Snape chuckled. “However, those who can Legilimency can study other people’s minds in certain situations and make correct interpretations. For example, the Dark Lord can almost always tell when someone is lying to him, but only those skilled in Occlumency can seal away feelings and memories that contradict lies and lie to him without being caught.”

No matter what Snape said, Legilimency still sounded like mind reading to Harry, and he didn't like the pronunciation at all—

Because it would remind Harry of the hurt and pain that Tyrell had suffered.

"Then, then, then, can Vodka know what we're thinking right now, sir?" Potter asked somewhat fearfully.

“The Dark Lord is far away, and Hogwarts’ walls and grounds are protected by many ancient spells, ensuring the safety of everyone in the school,” Snape said. “Time and space have an effect on magic, and Potter’s eye contact is often crucial for Legilimency.”

Snape paused, then said, "Not to mention that Tyella is almost always by your side, so at least for now, you're safe."

Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief after receiving Snape's affirmation once again.

Harry's behavior was observed by Snape.

“Alright, now let’s get back to the lesson itself.” Snape chuckled coldly, stood up, and looked down at Harry with a cryptic smile playing on his lips, seemingly mocking Harry’s reaction.

“Occlumency,” Snape said, pulling his wand from his robes.

Harry tensed up.

But Snape simply raised the tip of his cane to his temple and stuck it into his greasy hair.

When he removed the wand, a strand of silver, like thick spider silk, was attached to the tip.

Snape tore it off and let it fall gently into the Pensieve, where it spun in the Pensieve and turned silvery-white, neither gas nor liquid.

Snape raised his wand to his temple twice more and added the silvery substance into the stone basin.

He didn't explain anything, but carefully placed the Pensieve on the shelf to the side, then turned around and held his wand to Harry.

“Stand up, Potter, and take out your wand, Potter,” Snape said in a deep voice.

Harry stood up nervously, and the two faced off across the table.

“You can use your wand to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of, including those playful little spells you learned from Tierra,” Snape said.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, looking at Snape's wand with a mixture of fear and determination.

“I’m going to get into your brain,” Snape said softly. “We’ll see how resistant you are. I heard you showed resistance to the Imperius Curse in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class taught by Barty Crouch Jr. in fourth year? You’ll soon find yourself using similar abilities here, in my office. Alright, now. Prepare.”
"Legilimency!"

Snape attacked suddenly, catching Harry completely off guard.
The office swayed and disappeared before his eyes, and images flashed through his mind like a movie; Harry could no longer see anything around him.

At the age of five, he watched Dudley ride his new red bicycle, and his heart was filled with envy.
When he was nine, he was chased up a tree by Lippi, Aunt Peggy's watchdog, while the Dursleys laughed on the lawn. At that moment, Harry was filled with anger.
At age eleven, Harry wore the Sorting Hat and felt fear and resistance when it told him he could go to Slytherin.
And then there was the time in their second year when Tyrell lay in the school hospital, her body as hard as stone, her face contorted with terror—a moment that filled Harry with despair and hysterical worry.
In his third year, when he learned that Tierra had deceived him, Harry experienced a complex mix of emotions and a sudden, volcanic eruption of rage.
One hundred Dementors surrounded him on the dark lakeshore.
And when Tierra died.
When Tierra was resurrected.
Tierra
"No," a voice in Harry's head cried, "You can't look at this, you can't look, this is private—"

He felt a sharp pain in his knee. Snape's office was back, and he found himself lying on the floor, one knee hitting the table leg hard.

He looked up at Snape and saw Snape rubbing his wrist, where there was a red, swollen whip mark, like a brand.

(End of this chapter)