The Potter Twins and the Order of the Phoenix {5}

26. The Road to Freedom

"Disrupt and keep dividing, the government is lying. I'm not going to be a fallacy of this society" ~ Neck Deep, Don't Wait

Kreacher, it transpires, has been lurking in the attic. Sirius says he had found him up there, covered in dust, no doubt looking for more relics of the Black family to hide in his cupboard. Though Sirius seems satisfied with this story, it makes me uneasy. Kreacher seems to be in a better mood on his reappearance, his bitter muttering has subsided somewhat and he submits to orders more docilely than usual. 

I do not mention my vague suspicions to Sirius, whose cheerfulness is evaporating fast now that Christmas is over. As the date of our departure back to Hogwarts draws nearer, he becomes more and more prone to what Mrs. Weasley calls 'fits of the sullens', in which he becomes taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak's room for hours at a time.

I don't want to leave Dad and Sirius again with only Kreacher for company; in fact, for the first time in my life, I'm not looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Going back to school means placing myself once again under the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge, who has no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in our absence; I've got to see Draco again for the first time since our awkward encounter in Madam Hooch's office, and there is every likelihood that our burden of homework will increase as the exams draw even nearer; and Dumbledore remains as remote as ever. In fact, if it weren't for the DA, I would beg Dad and Sirius to let me stay at Grimmauld Place with them. 

Then, on the very last day of the holidays, something happens that makes Harry and me positively dread our return to school.

"Haylee, Harry, dear," says Mrs. Weasley poking her head into Harry and Ron's bedroom, where we're all sat watching Ron and Riley play a very serious game of wizard's chess, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."

I do not immediately register what she says one of Ron put's Riley's king in check. 

"Yes, Ron, you've got this," I egg him on. "Sorry, what was that Mrs. Weasley?"

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

My mouth falls open in horror.  I look at Harry instantly, my eyes almost popping out of my head at this point. Crookshanks, whom Hermione has been restraining with difficulty for the past quarter of an hour, leaps gleefully on to the board and set the pieces running for cover, squealing at the top of their voices.

"Snape?" Harry asks blankly. 

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

"What's he want with you?" Ron asks, looking unnerved as Mrs. Weasley withdraws from the room. "You haven't done anything, have you?"

"No!" We say in unison. I rack my mind, and there's absolutely nothing that we've done for Snape to be mad at us. 

A minute or two later, we're pushing open the kitchen door to find Sirius and Snape both seated at the long kitchen table, glaring in opposite directions. The silence between them is heavy with mutual dislike. A letter lays open on the table in front of Sirius.

"Um - hello," I say awkwardly, to announce our presence. 

Snape looks around at us, his face framed between curtains of greasy black hair.

"Sit down, Potters."

"You know," Sirius says 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 suffuses Snape's pallid face. Harry and I sit down in the chairs beside Sirius, facing Snape across the table.

"I was supposed to see you alone, Potters," says Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black--"

"I'm their godfather," Sirius says loudly. "And since their father isn't here, I'd like to be."

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," Snape says, whose voice, by contrast, is 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?" says Sirius, letting his chair fall back on to 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 lays a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."

It is Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curls in triumph as he turned to Harry and me. 

"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potters, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Occul - what?" I stutter. 

Snape's sneer becomes more pronounced.

"Occlumency, Potter. The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

My heart begins to pump very fast indeed. Defence against external penetration? But we're not being possessed, they had all agreed on that ...

"Why do we have to study Occlu--thing?" Harry blurts out. 

"Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea," Snape says smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," Harry says. "Who's going to be teaching us?"