Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“Hi, Harry,” said a voice behind him. He turned round and found Cho standing there.

“Oh,” said Harry as his stomach leapt uncomfortably. “Hi.”

“We’ll be in the library, Harry,” said Hermione firmly as she seized Ron above the elbow and dragged him off towards the marble staircase.

“Had a good Christmas?” asked Cho.

“Yeah, not bad,” said Harry.

“Mine was pretty quiet,” said Cho. For some reason, she was looking rather embarrassed. “Erm… there’s another Hogsmeade trip next month, did you see the notice?”

“What? Oh, no, I haven’t checked the noticeboard since I got back.”

“Yes, it’s on Valentine’s Day…”

“Right,” said Harry, wondering why she was telling him this. “Well, I suppose you want to—?”

“Only if you do,” she said eagerly.

Harry stared. He had been about to say, “I suppose you want to know when the next D.A. meeting is?” but her response did not seem to fit.

“I—er—” he said.

“Oh, it’s OK if you don’t,” she said, looking mortified. “Don’t worry. I—I’ll see you around.”

She walked away. Harry stood staring after her, his brain working frantically. Then something clunked into place.

“Cho! Hey—CHO!”

He ran after her, catching her halfway up the marble staircase.

“Er—d’you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine’s Day?”

“Oooh, yes!” she said, blushing crimson and beaming at him.

“Right… well… that’s settled then,” said Harry, and feeling that the day was not going to be a complete loss after all, he virtually bounced off to the library to pick-up Ron and Hermione before their afternoon lessons.

By six o’clock that evening, however, even the glow of having successfully asked out Cho Chang could not lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step Harry took towards Snape’s office.

He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.

The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions. In one corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape had once accused Harry—not without reason—of robbing. Harry’s attention was drawn towards the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognised it at once—it was Dumbledore’s Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing there, he jumped when Snape’s cold voice came out of the shadows.

“Shut the door behind you, Potter.”

Harry did as he was told, with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself. When he turned back into the room, Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk. Harry sat down and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.

“Well, Potter, you know why you are here,” he said. “The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions.”

“Right,” said Harry tersely.

“This may not be an ordinary class, Potter,” said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, “but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me ‘sir’ or ‘Professor’ at all times.”

“Yes… sir,” said Harry.

Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, “Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather’s kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence.”

“And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?” said Harry, looking directly into Snape’s eyes and wondering whether Snape would answer.

Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, “Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency—”

“What’s that? Sir?”

“It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person’s mind—”

“He can read minds?” said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed.

“You have no subtlety, Potter,” said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. “You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.”

Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savour the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing.

“Only Muggles talk of ‘mind-reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter—or at least, most minds are.” He smirked. “It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter falsehoods in his presence without detection.”