The last day of the holiday had arrived.
But Harry, who was staying at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, just couldn't bring himself to feel happy.
Aside from the dream that had been bothering him, there was another reason.
Inside the bedroom he shared with Ron, the two of them were playing wizard chess.
Ginny and Crookshanks were spectating from the side.
They watched as Harry's rook clashed fiercely with Ron's pawn, and Harry was enthusiastically cheering it on.
"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley poked her head through the door, calling for him, "could you come to the kitchen for a moment?"
"Professor Snape wants to speak with you."
Harry, who had been all smiles just a moment ago, looked like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on his head. He was stunned, like he hadn't heard her properly.
"Professor Snape is in the kitchen. He wants to talk to you," Mrs. Weasley repeated.
Harry's mouth dropped open in terror as he looked at the others, who were all staring back at him in disbelief.
"Snape?" Harry was completely lost.
He had no idea what business Snape could possibly have with him. But Mrs. Weasley gave him another gentle push before leaving.
"What does he want from you?" Ron asked nervously. Even though Snape was technically on their side in the Order of the Phoenix, he still gave Ron the creeps. "You didn't do anything, right?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry said indignantly. What was that supposed to mean—he had done something?
He racked his brain trying to recall anything he might have done—what kind of major incident could have brought Snape all the way to Grimmauld Place?
Could it be because he got a 'T' on his last Potions assignment?
Lost in thought, he soon found himself outside the kitchen door.
Pushing it open, he saw Sirius and Snape both sitting inside.
The two of them were seated at opposite ends of the long table, clearly doing their best to keep as far from each other as physically possible, as if the other carried some contagious filth.
Sirius was glaring furiously in the opposite direction, and both of them looked like they'd gladly tattoo the word "disgust" on their faces if they could.
Harry noticed an opened letter lying in front of Sirius.
This tense atmosphere shattered the moment Harry made a sound.
Snape's long, sallow face turned toward him from beneath his perpetually greasy, unwashed hair.
"Sit down, Potter."
That familiar snide tone—Sirius instantly exploded like a firework, tipping his chair back and shouting toward the ceiling, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't bark orders in my house!"
Snape shot him a cold glare, face contorted with disdain.
Harry had no desire to sit anywhere near Snape, so he took the seat closest to his godfather.
"I was supposed to speak to you alone, Potter," Snape said, his lips curling into their usual sneer.
"I'm his godfather!" Sirius's voice thundered, drowning out Snape's.
Snape very nearly stood up to cast a Tongue-Tying Curse right then and there, but managed to restrain himself.
"I'm here on Dumbledore's orders," Snape's voice grew increasingly venomous, "But do stay, Black. I know how much you enjoy feeling involved."
Sirius, who had just been about to leave upon hearing Dumbledore's name, slammed his chair legs back onto the floor. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Snape ignored him and turned a mocking smile toward Harry. "The Headmaster asked me to inform you, Potter—he wants you to begin studying Occlumency this term."
Harry blinked, confused. "Study what?"
"Occlumency, Potter," Snape's sneer deepened, like he was speaking to a particularly dim-witted log. "It's a rare branch of magic that shields the mind from external intrusion. Quite obscure, but very useful."
Harry's heart started pounding. Shield the mind from intrusion?
Did Dumbledore think he was going to be possessed?
He'd already talked to Ginny on the first day back from Christmas break—he hadn't been possessed.
He felt like he was being suspected. Bristling, he asked, "Why do I have to learn this?"
"Because the Headmaster believes it's necessary," Snape said, softening his tone slightly. "You'll receive tutoring once a week. You mustn't tell anyone. Understood?"
"Understood." Harry smoothed out his emotions, feeling maybe he'd overreacted. "Who's going to teach me?"
When this question came up, it was the second time Harry saw that playful look on Snape's face.
He raised an eyebrow and said slowly, "Myself."
At that moment, Harry felt like all his internal organs were melting.
He had been wrong—this wasn't just some new lesson.
This was punishment.
What in Merlin's name had he done to deserve such a harsh sentence?
Panicking, he immediately looked to Sirius for help.
As expected, Sirius—who had never gotten along with Snape—exploded on the spot.
"Why can't Dumbledore teach him?" Sirius had every reason to suspect that this greasy bat would deliberately make things difficult for his godson. He snapped, "Why you?"
"I suppose it's because the Headmaster reserves the right to delegate unpleasant tasks," Snape said smoothly, flashing his third amused smile. "As for why me?"
"I assure you, this is not something I asked for." He looked particularly pleased at the fury on Sirius's face. "Monday night at six. My office. Don't be late, Potter."
"If you don't like learning from me, you can choose someone else."
"Someone else?" Harry blinked. Sirius slammed the table. "Then I'll pick someone else!"
"The alternative," Snape said in his usual snide tone, "is John Wick."
The moment that name left Snape's lips, Sirius felt like his old injuries were flaring up again. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"Why John?" Harry quickly asked. "I mean, John isn't even in the Order of the Phoenix."
"Exactly. So you have no other choice," Snape glanced at Harry. "In all of Hogwarts, the only people proficient in this form of magic are myself and John Wick."
That completely crushed Harry's hopes—if Dumbledore wasn't teaching, then the only option left was Snape.
Sure, John Wick might know it… but would he teach me?
Snape said in his usual snide tone, "You'd better learn quickly—before your brain gets scrambled."
"Wait a second!" Sirius stood up, warning sharply, "If you use this so-called teaching as an excuse to bully Harry, I'll settle the score with you."
"How touching," Snape's hand tightened around his wand inside his robe pocket as he sneered. "You must see a lot of James in Potter, don't you?"
"I do," Sirius said proudly, thinking of his best friend's son.
"Then you must also know he's just as arrogant and self-important. Criticism washes right over him like the wind." Snape's words slithered like snakes, crawling right into Sirius's ears and igniting his fury.
"I warned you, you greasy bat!" Sirius was so livid he didn't even hear Harry trying to speak. His face darkened as he pulled out his wand. "Dumbledore might believe you've reformed, but I don't."
"Oh? Then why don't you go tell him?" Snape said mockingly. "Afraid he won't take the word of someone hiding out in his mummy's house seriously?"
"Scoff~ I almost forgot—though even hiding here, you still nearly got your arm chopped off," he added with undisguised scorn.
Sirius raised his wand, and Snape mirrored the motion—neither giving an inch.
Just as things were about to explode, the kitchen door swung open.
Mr. Weasley had recovered and returned.
Behind him followed the entire Weasley family, along with Hermione.
When they saw the scene in the kitchen, the smiles on their faces froze.
Snape broke the awkward silence and said to Harry, "Monday evening at six o'clock, Potter."
As he passed by Harry, he added in a low voice, "John Wick won't help you. You'd best stay out of his sight."
Truthfully, he suspected that John might not only know Occlumency, but perhaps also another kind of magic.
And Harry's empty head was full of gaps—best not to appear in front of John at all.
With that, he swept out of the room.
…
The holidays ended.
Students returned to school one after another.
John saw Daphne standing in the Entrance Hall, her beautiful gray-blue eyes scanning around in search of Pansy.
Just outside the hall near the staircase, Pansy stood with a miserable expression on her face, too afraid to show herself.
The two of them stayed like that for nearly an hour, until Daphne saw John walk in and let out a shriek before dashing away.
Pansy, finally relieved, bolted across the hall at top speed and fled straight to the Slytherin common room.
"Has she forgotten they share a dorm room?" Malfoy muttered with a jab of sarcasm.
John spotted Astoria returning—she had gone skiing in Finland.
Although Mr. Greengrass didn't see what was so fun about it, he couldn't say no to his daughter's filial piety.
Mr. Greengrass: This padded jacket of mine—her love is killing me.
The moment Malfoy saw Astoria, he rushed down to help her with her luggage.
John quietly watched Malfoy fawning over her, then looked up to see an owl flying his way.
He raised his arm for the owl to perch—but before it could land, Basil swooped down from above and kicked it mid-air.
Snatching the letter from the startled owl's beak, Basil landed smugly on John's arm.
The poor owl hooted in protest, only to receive a glare from Basil that sent it fleeing in terror.
Opening the letter, John raised an eyebrow and remarked, "That was quick."
"Respected Mr. John Wick, please arrive at the Wizengamot at 4 PM on January 9th to receive your medal."
Next week, John would be officially awarded.
A smile tugged at his lips as he tucked the letter away.
He then saw Harry trudging in with heavy steps. After briefly greeting Hermione, Harry walked off without another word.
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