Do You Believe in Miracles?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Why Do You Do That?

Excitement mounted in Harry as he made his way to the Defence office, awaiting his first training session with Aberforth Dumbledore. He knocked on the heavy wooden door and pushed it open.

Aberforth looked as quirky as ever as he sat perched on his desk. “Good day, Mr. Potter. I hope you’re doing well?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, “thank you.” Harry deposited his bag on the closest desk, and approached his teacher with his wand in hand.

“Well, we’re going to try your hand at wandless magic today. Do you recall ever having used wandless magic before?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Well, I summoned my wand during the Dementor attack two summers ago, but that might have just been accidental magic, you know, like when I blew up my aunt….” Harry flushed at the memory and Aberforth smiled at him.

“Well, blowing up your aunt would most likely be wild magic that all of us experience, most commonly when we are young and distressed,” he explained. “But summoning your wand is much more specific - you wanted your wand, and used your magic to summon it to yourself. I believe I would be right to assume it was not a conscious act?”

Harry nodded. He had not deliberately summoned his wand; he had just known he needed it, and it had come.

“Then I reckon it was the desperation of that situation that allowed you to get what you needed. It does, however, prove you have the ability; it only needs to be harnessed. Given the trust and personal nature of these lessons, do you mind if I call you Harry, and we‘ll forget formalities during these times?”

“Yes, sir. That’s fine.”

Aberforth moved around Harry, walking in a calm circle around the boy.

“Close your eyes, Harry,“ he said. “Relax; the meditation techniques you’ve been learning should help. Feel the awareness of your body; breathe with your natural life pulse. Good.”

Harry quickly became aware of himself, as if every cell was making him aware of its presence. He focussed on his beach image, wind and sand blowing in face, cool waters at his feet.

“All right, now I want you to focus on your magical core. Imagine your magic flowing from deep inside your body. Feel it move up from your core, past your torso, down your arms, to your fingers and back again.”

Unconsciously, Harry rubbed his fingers into the palms of his hands.

“That’s it, Harry,” Aberforth commented at Harry’s reaction. “That tingling sensation is your magic wanting to come to the surface. Focus on bringing it back to your fingers, and hold it there.”

Harry focussed his magic and willed it back to his fingers, and nearly immediately felt the prickly sensation in his fingers, much like the sensation he would have felt if he had fallen asleep on them.

Aberforth continued his circles around Harry, stopping not far from Harry’s right.

“Open your eyes, Harry, but keep the magic at your fingers.”

The room took a moment to focus as Harry opened his eyes. The teacher stood at the closest desk, beckoning Harry forward. Harry joined the man near the desk, watching as he placed a battered quill on the desk.

“Place your hands near the quill, in whatever position feels natural. Concentrate on levitating the feather. You don’t need an incantation. You have to force your magic through your fingers, and use your will to manipulate it into the proper spell. Just thinking ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ won’t do it, you have to imagine the quill lifting from the desktop, and force it to do so.”

Harry stared hard at the brown feather quill. He held his palms down, over the object, trying with all his might to get it to move.

After several frustrating moments and eyes dry from not blinking, Harry threw his hands to his sides and looked up at his teacher.

“It won’t come automatically, Harry, but you have to focus. Find a position that will let you bring the magic from your hands, and get it to do your bidding. Concentrate on deep, even breaths, and let it feel natural.”

After several deep breaths, he collected his thoughts. His fingers itched and tingled as he refocused his magic.

Several hand positions and a pounding headache later, Harry made some progress. Palms facing each other, fingers pointed at the quill, he focussed his energy. If he could just get the bloody thing to move, he’d be okay.

The quill quivered shakily several inches above the table. Harry’s eyes widened in shock, but he immediately doubled his efforts to keep the feather in the air. In just a few seconds, Harry’s head felt heavy and his arms dropped to his sides, the quill falling back gently to its starting place.

“Excellent work, Harry! Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Harry beamed, although it was a tired smile. He felt slightly weary as he sat himself into a nearby chair and took a deep breath.

“It’s a tiring process, Harry. You will build a natural endurance for it, but you should recover in an hour or two in the meantime. That was a great start, but I think we both know you can do better.”

Aberforth gave him a toothy grin, and Harry gave a weak smile in response.

“Harry, there is one other thing we need to discuss before your leave, however,” Aberforth said seriously. “The content of what you are learning here is of a sensitive nature, and could be fatal if it falls into the wrong hands. I must request that you keep this information private from anyone who cannot ensure their mind’s privacy, is that clear?”

Harry nodded solemnly. He hated having to keep something like this from Ron and Hermione but vowed to himself to teach them Occlumency. That was, if he could ever learn it himself.

Harry bade his teacher goodbye and returned to Gryffindor Tower, keen on a nap before his lesson with Snape that evening.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“All right, Potter, it’s time we see if this has made any impact on your ability to resist attack.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes and stood up quietly from the dungeon floor. They had been practising meditation exercises of all kinds for a week, and Harry found it easier and easier to slip into his mental image every time.

He knew he was doing well with the meditation, but would he really be able to block Snape’s attack? Taking a deep breath, he willed himself calm before facing the man.

“Legilimens!”

Harry was seven, and Dudley was tattling that Harry had hit Perkins.

“It wasn’t me, I swear!” cried little Harry.

Calling on his image, Harry was suddenly on the beach shore, a cool breeze playing on his face.

Reality shifted back into focus as Snape ended his attack.

“Well, that was indeed somewhat of an improvement, Mr. Potter. You did not have to resort to screaming to stop me. Try to block me from the start next time.”

Harry stared at him. He pondered the man’s ability to make a compliment sound demeaning. Harry shook his head and waited for the next attack.

Harry continued to block Snape’s attacks quickly for a solid twenty minutes. Over the next half hour, the Potions master had broken his defences and dragged memory after memory out of the protesting teenager.

“Legilimens!”

Harry was in the Prefect’s bathroom, Moaning Myrtle spying on him as he tried to decipher the second clue….

A wave crashed at Harry’s feet and faded.

Uncle Vernon chased Harry through the house with a belt, and Harry ran in terror as he raced out the door….

The warm sun went cold.

Harry sat in his dormitory, as Dean told the listening third years what it was like to kiss a girl….

Hermione solved the Potions puzzle and left to tend to Ron, as Harry went forward, determined to stop Snape from getting the stone….

A burst of green light, and Harry screamed, as Cedric’s body lay dead on the graveyard ground….

“STOP!” shouted Harry, ferociously pushing Snape out of his mind. He stumbled back to the present as he panted, trying to catch his terrified breath, glaring daggers at Snape. “That’s enough, all right?!” he yelled. “It’s too much!”

“You’re slacking Potter! I can assure you, the Dark Lord will be much worse!”

“I’m still learning - “

“LEGILIMENS!”

The air was silent in the stone room as Bellatrix’s curse squarely hit Harry’s godfather. Harry’s scream tore the thick air as he watched Sirius fall through the black veil….

Harry stood in shock, disbelieving that Sirius was gone…. The one adult who had ever cared about Harry and not the Boy-Who-Lived. The first person to care about him like a parent…. The first person he truly loved….

Raw rage cursed through Harry as Bellatrix laughed at his pitiful attempt to cast an Unforgivable….

Intolerable pain set his nerves ablaze as Voldemort possessed Harry, who prayed for the pain to stop…even death would be welcome….

Harry’s body trembled with his grief as he smashed various artefacts and tools on the Headmaster’s desk….

He felt numb, as everyone offered their condolences. No one really understood…no one really cared. It was all his fault Sirius was dead, and he realized for the first time that he would never have a family, never be loved….

“NOOOOOO!!” Harry fell to the ground as a sob wracked his thin frame. Tears poured down his eyes as he relived the pain of emotions that he had been suppressing for months.

Harry cast a hate-filled glance at Snape and he noticed the man was clutching his chest, having shared Harry’s pain and torment.

Tears fell freely from his eyes as he stood back up.

“Are you happy now, Snape? Are you fucking happy?!” he yelled, not caring that he was swearing at a teacher.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor for your despicable impertinence! Have you no respect?! Perhaps now you’ll finally realize what is at stake here! Maybe you’ll understand how important it is for you to learn Occlumency, you insufferable brat!”

Harry let out a strangled noise, halfway between a sob and laughter.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW?!” bellowed Harry. “You think I don’t wake up every day and know it’s my fault?! Know that I’m responsible for the death of every single person who cares about me? Know that more are going to die because I’m not strong enough to stop him?!”

Harry had never broken down so completely in his life and was terrified that he was doing so in front of Snape and Malfoy. Fear and sheer grief tore at Harry’s very soul, and he was sure he’d never felt anything so horrible in his life. It was as if his heart had split inside his chest and he would die from the pain of it all.

Snape seethed at him. “Your friends are going to die because you put them and yourself in unnecessary danger, Potter! You refuse help and believe that your idiotic Gryffindor bravery can get you through on your own! You’re arrogant, Potter, and more people are going to die until you take charge and do something about it!”

“Severus, what the fuck?!” yelled Malfoy, now standing between the two.

Harry snapped. How could Snape say that to him? Snape did not know him; he knew nothing about him.

“I - I-” Harry shook his head in mad disbelief. “FUCK YOU, SNAPE!”

Harry grabbed his bag and stormed from the room. He made it halfway down the hall before falling to the ground behind a suit of armour, back sliding painfully down the rough stone wall as his body wracked with tormented sobs.

He curled his legs to his chest, putting his head on his knees, and the fabric of his pants quickly became soaked with his tears. The approaching footsteps never registered to Harry before a thin figure came and sat next to him. He felt his body tense as he looked under his arm to the blond head of Draco Malfoy.

Harry opened his mouth to tell Malfoy to leave him alone, when the boy cleared his throat and cut him off.

“I… I’m sorry, Potter.”

Harry’s jawed dropped, and he forgot his embarrassing state as he lifted his head to stare at the other boy.

“Why?” he whispered incredulously. If asked later, Harry was not sure exactly what he was asking an explanation for; he was so confused with the boy sitting next to him, he felt any explanation would suffice.

“Why do you think, Potter?!” Draco sneered. Harry continued to stare blankly at him, and the boy sighed.

“For your godfather, for my father, for what Severus said. For everything,” Malfoy said, quiet but clear.

Harry’s heart clenched at Malfoy’s apology, for everything he had lost and been through. He banged the back of his head harshly against the wall and put his hands to his face. A light and timid pat on the shoulder made Harry realize Malfoy was trying to comfort him.

Harry instinctively reached over at the soft touch and pulled himself into the other boy’s robes, completely forgetting whom he was clutching. The warmer body tensed at the touch, and Harry cried harder, knowing he was once again going to be denied the comfort he so desperately needed.

A thin arm slowly came to embrace Harry’s shoulder, and he relaxed, crying freely. Unable as he was to describe it, Harry felt as if he mourned everything in those few moments. He grieved for Sirius, and Cedric; he mourned the loss of the loving parents he would never know; and the death and despair of all who had, and would, be touched by Voldemort’s wrath. Harry cried for the impossible task he was burdened with, and for every pain he was forced to endure.

After several minutes, a tired calm took him over, and he was able to collect himself. He slowly pulled himself out of Malfoy’s arms, blushing profusely as if he had just realized on whom he had been crying on. He grabbed his bag and shakily stood up after Malfoy.

Harry avoided Malfoy’s gaze as they stood in an awkward silence. Harry cleared his throat.

“Er, th-thanks, Malfoy…,” Harry mumbled shyly, both out of sincerity and decorum.

Malfoy nodded and Harry departed to Gryffindor Tower, ignoring Ron and Hermione as he made his excuses and went to his dormitory. He threw himself onto his bed, rubbing his face in frustration. He had broken down and bawled his eyes out on Draco Malfoy. Of all the people Harry could have gone to, why did Malfoy have to be the one he cried on? He knew Malfoy would hold it over his head, using it to embarrass him in front of the whole school.

Well, Harry thought as his eyes fluttered shut, at least I don’t have to see him until after the weekend….

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“ - wake up! Come on, Harry!”

A blurry red figured hovered above the bed. Harry reached for his glasses and gave a wry grin to see Ron standing near him, looking aggravated.

“Good morning to you, too, mate,“ he teased.

Ron huffed. “Hedwig’s brought a letter. She won’t let me take it for you.”

Harry sat up and noticed his snowy white owl starring contentedly at him, a small scroll tied to her leg.

“Come here, girl.”

Harry removed the note. Dumbledore wanted a meeting. Of course he does, thought Harry. He let out a long groan as he ran his hands through his dishevelled hair.

“What’s going on, mate?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore wants to meet with me this morning,” Harry answered.

“Why?”

“Er, I think he wants to talk about the D.A. or something,” he lied quickly. He knew why Dumbledore wanted to see him: he had yelled at Snape, and walked out on Occlumency after promising to follow through with it. Torn between feeling guilty for disappointing Dumbledore and not feeling any over his behaviour towards Snape, Harry sighed and resigned himself to the meeting.

Within a half hour, the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office was starring expectantly at him.

“Ice Mice.”

The gargoyle nodded and moved aside. Harry climbed up the stairs and knocked lightly before entering the antique study.

“Harry! Do come and sit down.” The man’s brilliant magenta robes, complete with lime green stars, made Harry squint. Taking his favourite chair opposed the Headmaster, Harry waited for him to speak.

“How have your Occlumency lessons been, my boy?”

“Why do you do that?” Harry blurted out. He had not meant to voice the question, but it had been on his mind for some time.

“Do what, Harry?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised in question.

Harry sighed. “You ask questions you already know the answers to. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know Occlumency was a disaster last night, yet you still ask like you don’t know anything happened.”

The older man’s lips turned up in a slight smile. “Harry, I may have knowledge of a situation, but that does not mean that I know how you view the situation, and, believe me, I am honestly curious.

“I told you I would not ignore you this year, Harry; I requested your presence to speak about another matter entirely, but there is no reason we cannot discuss two subjects in one meeting. I wanted to give you a chance to talk about last night, if you wish, and to inform you that Professor Snape still expects you in his classroom next Wednesday evening.”

Harry’s jawed dropped. Snape was still going to continue his Occlumency?! After he had sworn at him like that? Snape had kicked him out last year for looking in his Pensieve, but now he was going to act like nothing had happened? Wide eyes gazed in surprise at the Headmaster.

“Severus was not pleased, my boy. However, he is an intelligent man who knows when he is wrong, even if he does not like to admit it.” Dumbledore’s eyes held their unique twinkle.

“I believe he was as upset by last night’s events as you were, Harry. I do not believe that Severus has experienced true pain and grief in years, and the power of your emotions was as traumatic for him as it was for you. You do not yet understand the strength of that power, Harry.”

It was obvious the Headmaster was referring to the powers mentioned in the prophecy, even if Harry could not understand how that would help him defeat the darkest wizard in centuries. He bowed his head, feeling his insides clench painfully.

“Harry,” Dumbledore spoke quietly, “would you like to talk about exactly what happened last night? As I told you before, I am always here to listen.”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir. I’m just surprised he wants to keep going with it, that’s all.”

Dumbledore looked at him intently. Harry hated that gaze. He always felt as if he Headmaster was seeing directly into his soul. Maybe he was….

“All right, my boy. Just remember my door is always open.” Harry gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“On to other matters. Remus Lupin will be here a half hour early on Sunday evening to prepare for your first Defence Club meeting.” Dumbledore’s smile was suddenly warm and appraising.

Harry swallowed hard. He had been so busy with Occlumency and learning wandless magic, he had nearly forgotten his first upcoming D.A. meeting.

“Ah, Harry, I assure you that you will do just fine,” the older man said, as if he’d read Harry’s mind. “Go enjoy the nice weather with your friends, and relax for the day. You deserve it.”

To Be Continued…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author’s Notes: Thanks once again to KitBaiu and ShadowSamurai, my amazing betas, without whom this story wouldn’t be possible.

Comments and feedback are very appreciated!

Coming next week,
“They Do Seem to Always Enjoy That, My Lord“