Mind Over Matter

Well this is awkward

CHAPTER ONE

It took Hera exactly one lesson with the zero preparation given of Snape raping her mind to decide that he was probably never cleared for teaching by the board of directors and that it would be easier to teach herself Occlumency instead, as she highly doubted that a supposedly delicate mind art would be learnt by being screamed at and a setting magical mind drill to attack her head, so she went to the first place she thought would have some sort of information.

The Library. Capital letters too because the Hogwarts library was huge.

There was not, in fact, a single book regarding occlumency in the whole thing and after a small inquiry to a forever dour looking librarian informed her that Occlumency was actually illegal as it was a mind art, which made so little sense to her that she wasn't even going to try and work it out, and that there hadn't been any books published by reputable authors (and this was said with a sneer that could rival her suspiciously similar looking colleague snape) since the law was taken into effect some 40 years ago.

It begged the question of how Snape had learnt it in the first place.

Which was suspect because it was just after Dumbledore became headmaster that he personally pushed that bill apparently, Madam Pince had been almost bored in relaying that as a possible subtle threat that she would in fact tell the headmaster about it if she didn't drop the subject. Considering it was him forcing her to go through this in the first place she was suitably unimpressed. More persuasive questioning led her to the fact that the house elves had put all of the questionable and downright illegal material in storage.

So she went to the kitchens next, and Dobby gleefully informed her between comforting an absolutely distraught Winky (having been informed of both Crouches demise some weeks earlier) that there was a room that the elves just plain dumped anything they didn't know had a home somewhere in the castle and that was considered the 'storage' because teachers rarely asked for any of it back and simply never asked the house elves where they put it. That seemed... negligent on a whole manner of levels as Dobby informed her that she merely needed to stand opposite the tapestry on the 7th floor and ask in her mind what she wanted. No wards to keep students away from a magical room that could become whatever they needed it to whenever they needed it to full of illegal contraband.

Convenient that.

So on that note, it was another trek up the stairs, that she never would have made without the secret passages because even with her impressive stamina 8 flights of stairs up from the dungeons and multiple long corridors between staircases was too much. The room itself was actually rather impressive and at Dobby's suggestion, she merely asked for the materials needed to learn occlumency, and the room provided a small very comfortable seating area and a bookshelf organised by skill level.

As she was once again a social pariah and not currently talking to her friends due to their disregard of her and her feelings over summer, also with it being the weekend, she could spend as much time as she liked and so 4 hours later she slouched into the impressively cushy sofa in something of a snit over what she had read so far.

Occlumency apparently required trust between teacher and trainee for one, which sure as hell wasn't happening. Both of them were supposed to have made binding oaths never to reveal the contents of each others memories which most assuredly had not happened. And what had currently worked her up into a slightly frothy rage was that repeated battering of her natural occlumency shields, which were admittedly determined by magical power and aptitude to the mind arts, would tear them away and leave the person vulnerable and likely damage them semi permanently.

Snape wanted her natural flimsy shield torn away on Dumbledore's orders of this she had come not to doubt, as the old coot knew that they didn't get along, and had not mentioned vows in any stretch of the imagination anywhere along the line.