Time Astral | Sirius Black

17||The Occlumens

December 31st, 1995

Harry was surprised when Ron had not even spoken a word of him being missing the night prior.

He had wholly expected Sirius to be telling him not to be reckless in this life-threatening way and Mrs Weasley to be lecturing him for hours, but it seemed as though they had no gist of him being gone. He'd sneaked in, and out like a pro.

Harry did not want to leave Sirius all alone again with only Kreacher for company, now that it was time for him to leave after New Year's. In fact, for the first time in his life, he was not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts.

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

"Harry dear," said Mrs. Weasley, poking her head into his and Ron's bedroom, where the pair of them were playing wizard chess watched by Hermione, Ginny, and Crookshanks, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."

Harry did not immediately register what she had said; one of his castles was engaged in a violent tussle with a pawn of Ron's, and he was egging it on enthusiastically.

"Squash him — squash him, he's only a pawn, you idiot — sorry, Mrs. Weasley, what did you say?"

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

Harry's mouth fell open in horror. He looked around at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all of whom were gaping back at him. 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?" said Harry blankly.

"Professor Snape, dear," said Mrs. Weasley reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."

He pushed open the kitchen door a minute or two later 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. A letter lay open on the table in front of Sirius.

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."

An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. Harry sat down in a chair beside Sirius, facing Snape across the table. "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 am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel . . . involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, letting his chair fall back onto all four legs with a loud bang.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel — ah — frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful," Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."

It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry. "The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?" said Harry blankly.

Snape's sneer became more pronounced. "Occlumency, Potter. The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."