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Author: KEDme Story: Shadow of the Serpent Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 19 Words: 224,869
Harry awoke the morning after the ballgame feeling somewhat groggy, but physically much better. He had remembered some more last night, but he had not gotten much information from his dream. It all revolved around the park bench and Claire Smith. The groggy feeling intensified as he became more alert. He supposed it must be the after-effects of whatever spell or potion he had been under. Hunter had said something to that effect the night before, he seemed to recall. He decided his first priority of the day was to get answers. He stumbled blindly around, pulling on clothes and washing his face in the basin of water. After that he felt much better. Walking cautiously out of his room and into the courtyard, he found Hunter having breakfast in the garden. He was sitting under a gazebo-like structure, eating and reading a rather thick book at the same time. Even doing two things at once did not distract him from sensing Harry's presence, however. "Up early, I see," he said casually without turning around or taking his eyes off his book. "I suppose you're hungry. Care for some breakfast?" he said, waving a hand absently towards the food on the table. His tone suggested that he couldn’t care less either way. "Er... yes," Harry said, hesitating. What if the food were poisoned? As if reading his mind, Hunter said without looking up, "Don't worry. It hasn’t been tampered with." He still didn't know whether or not he could trust this man, but his hunger won out. It felt like days since he had last eaten. "What I really want is answers," he said as he slid into the chair opposite the older man and began filling his plate greedily. "Hmmm… Such as?" Hunter asked in a bored voice, still not taking his eyes off his book. He didn't sound in the mood to answer questions. Harry felt his anger stir. Hunter seemed so reserved and distant, cold even. But he couldn't shake the feeling that, beneath the rough interior, was a decent person. Despite the man’s less-than-friendly reception, Harry did not fear him. Certainly he was abrasive, but to Harry he just seemed like someone who had been alone a long time and wasn’t used to conversation. Right now, however, Harry didn't really care if he felt like talking or not. He was getting some answers. Today. "What am I doing here?" he asked pointedly. "And just how did I get here, anyway?" “Dumbledore contacted me a few weeks ago. He thought I could help you,” Hunter replied. He did not look up but kept reading and eating. He sounded as if he thought the conversation was over. “How did I get here?” Harry insisted. Sighing loudly, Hunter finally looked up from his book. Deliberately taking his time, he marked his place and closed it up, making a great show of putting it aside. With the cover closed, Harry was surprised to see the title. Everything You Ever Wanted to Know (And Some Things You Didn't) About Magical Defences Against Internal Penetration of the Mind, by Ludwig Von Steuben. “After I agreed to take you, some people – one of whom was Remus Lupin – met me in a small village in South America. They apparently had to sedate you at some point and you had been that way for a good week and a half. When I tried to bring you out of it, your body started to crash. Obviously things are more severe than I thought at home. It took them a good week to get you safely out of the country.” “Why didn’t anyone from the Order come here with me?” Harry asked between bites, satisfied the man was finally talking. Hunter shrugged. “I work alone,” he said. “Besides, others will only distract you from learning what you need to know.” Something clicked in Harry’s mind and he stopped chewing. "You're going to teach me Occlumency, aren't you?" he said, looking down at his plate and swallowing with great difficulty. He almost choked on his food. When Stephen didn’t answer right away, he absently pushed the food around on his plate. Suddenly he didn't feel much like eating anymore. "Yes. That is the general idea," Hunter said after a long pause. He continued eating and watching Harry thoughtfully, but refrained from further comment. Harry's stubborn streak kicked in. He regarded his companion intently, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at Hunter expectantly, challenging him to make the next move. About five minutes passed before Hunter finally broke. "All right, Mr. Potter," he conceded with a sigh. "What else do you want to know?" "Why am I having trouble remembering things?" Harry asked suspiciously. "How much do you remember from just before you woke up?" Hunter asked. "The last clear memory I have is of sitting on a park bench with a girl that I know." He frowned, uncertain of how much to reveal. "I remember bits and pieces afterwards, but it's fuzzy and I don't really know what to make of it. Some of the things I remember seem more like snatches of a dream rather than true memories. They don't make much sense." "You were pretty messed up when I got to you," Hunter explained, not seeming at all surprised at Harry's dodgy recollections of the past. "The fools never even thought to check you for mind invasion potions and spells." "Mind invasion potions?" Harry asked incredulously. "What potions? What spells?" "Voldemort used a combination of potions and spells to gain access to your mind and try to influence you. It's an old trick that is rarely used anymore," Hunter said. "The Imperius Curse is much more effective and requires less effort to achieve the same results. If that doesn't work, then there's always outright possession, but only a very powerful witch or wizard can accomplish that." Hunter looked thoughtful. "It puzzles me why he didn't try one of those methods. I mean, why bother with the old ways when there are quicker and more effective methods available? The Voldemort I fought against used to take the easiest route possible whenever he could." Harry snorted. "Probably because those methods don't work on very well on me," he said between mouthfuls. His appetite had returned somewhat. Hunter tried, but couldn't hide his surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked. He was intrigued in spite of his resolve to remain detached. Harry took the time to chew his food at a leisurely pace and then drink a long swallow of juice before answering. He could see the older man's interest and was greatly enjoying the fact that he had the upper hand. After all, Hunter had made him wait for answers. He looked at Hunter seriously, hoping to convey the message that he wasn't a child. He had faced Voldemort four times – five if one counted the memory of Tom Riddle and his Basilisk in the Chamber – and survived. That should be worth some measure of respect. "Voldemort hasn't had much success with either of those methods," Harry said finally in a matter-of-fact voice. "How so?" Hunter asked, curiously. "He's tried both the Imperius and possession, with very unsatisfactory results. I can fight the Imperius – as he found out for himself last year – and something about being inside me doesn't give him a warm, fuzzy feeling. He couldn't stay in my body for long last month when we met at the Ministry, although he tried." "And just for the record, it was no picnic for me, either," he added for good measure. "The pain was worse that anything I've ever felt, including the Cruciatus." Hunter was taken aback. He was absolutely floored that this skinny teenager was talking about the Dark Lord so casually, calling him by name. He was even more astounded that Harry even knew what any of the Unforgivables were like. Including the Killing Curse, it sounded like the boy had been exposed to all three Unforgivables and survived with his mind intact. No one in the history of the world had ever done that. Harry fixed his bright green eyes on the older man. "Now it's my turn. Why did Dumbledore choose you? Are you some sort of an expert or something?" "Let's just say that I have life experiences that have given me special insight into the art of Occlumency," Hunter said abruptly. Harry was not satisfied with that answer but didn't press. He could understand and respect Hunter's avoidance of direct questions about his past. He let it drop for now. "So… if I've been under the influence of a potion," Harry mused, thinking out loud, "how long do you think it's been in my system?" "My best guess would be a couple of weeks," Hunter told him, confirming what Harry already knew. Wormtail's visit to Privet Drive did have a purpose. He'd slipped him a potion in one of his drinks - a potion that had allowed Voldemort better access to his mind. "Of course, he'd also need a steady supply of something of yours in order for the spell to work." Hunter continued to eat his breakfast as he pondered the situation. "Like what?" Harry asked, buttering some toast. "Hmmm... Well, strands of hair are usually the easiest to obtain," he said. "But from the looks of you, I'd say it's been more than a few weeks since your last haircut." Harry felt sick to his stomach. "My hairbrush has been missing for a few weeks. I just passed it off as something I misplaced. Do you think it could be related?" he asked. "I'd say it's a good possibility," Hunter said. "How does the potion work?" Harry asked. Hunter's patient reply surprised Harry. He had been expecting another abrupt answer, but Hunter took his time explaining how it worked. "It's a three step process, really," he said as if gearing up for a lecture. Harry was strongly reminded of Hermione, and suddenly missed his know-it-all best friend. "The first step is getting the victim to drink the potion to open the mind," Hunter said. "The second step consists of another potion that's drunk by the one doing the controlling. Then the third step is usually an incantation that allows the controller access to the mind." "This potion is delicate business and not to be taken lightly," he said with something akin to reverence. "Only a very skilled potions master should even attempt it. If the potion is not strong enough, the person can't be fully controlled. If it's too strong, then the controller might never be able to return to his or her own body. Also, the strength of the potion is directly related to the victim's strength of mind. Negative emotions can make it easier to gain access." "So, if a person is feeling angry or... or some other negative emotion," Harry asked, a lump in his throat, "then that would make the potion more effective?" "Yes," Hunter agreed, watching him with those irritatingly observant eyes. "This is a Dark potion, Harry, and the Dark Arts thrive on dark thoughts and feelings. Emotions like guilt and self-loathing are its best friends. These emotions, more than any others, give the Dark Lord his power." Harry sat in silence. What Hunter said made sense. He had been feeling more of these dark emotions since Sirius.... died. The times when Voldemort had been the strongest and had taken control were when he found himself dwelling on the past or feeling especially guilty, upset, depressed, or angry. The trouble was that he didn't know how to stop feeling this way. "So, if I stop feeling negative emotions, then he can't get access to my mind anymore?" Harry asked hopefully. "Ah, I didn't say that, Harry," Hunter said, shaking his head. "While it's true that the potion has been counteracted, your connection to Voldemort seems to be stronger than that. Dumbledore's letter said something about your scar. That is why you're here, after all. He mentioned certain incidents beginning when you were eleven. I saw evidence of your connection last night at the ballgame." He chuckled. "Poor Tlaloc was blamed for that, even though he deserved what he got. Tecuhtl is fond of the boy, but such public insolence can not go unpunished." "What will happen to him?" Harry asked. "I don't know," Hunter answered truthfully. "But I'm more concerned about Voldemort right now than Tlaloc." He leaned back in his chair and seemed to ponder the situation. When he finally spoke, Harry could tell he was choosing his words very carefully, trying to solve the puzzle. "The potions should have been out of your system by last night," he said, frowning. "Certainly it was weak enough that Voldemort shouldn't have been able to connect with you at all. There seems to be another force in existence here." "Dumbledore told me that we connected when he gave me my scar," Harry said quietly. "Now that he's back and stronger than ever, my scar seems to hurt all the time. The stronger he gets, the stronger the connection seems to be, and the worse the pain." "Yes, curse scars have been known to have funny effects," Hunter agreed. "Yours is a unique situation because you've survived the Killing Curse. That has never been done before or since." "So I've been told," Harry said bitterly. "Would you rather be dead, then?" Hunter's anger flared. His eyes flashed with rage as he thought of his wife and son, two victims of Voldemort's Killing Curses. Harry couldn't understand why his comment had affected the older man so deeply. "No, of course not," he snapped. "But you try being famous for something you don't even remember and see how you like it! It's not much fun having people ogle my scar all the time and have everyone think I'm touched in the head because I can feel Voldemort's emotions and dream through his eyes! I'm a marked man, Mr. Hunter, and I haven't even turned sixteen yet! How would you feel?" Harry's outburst deflated Hunter's anger. He knew he wasn't being fair and he silently berated himself for it. He had momentarily lost his objectivity. Knowing James and Lily, he knew Harry had possibly lost as much – maybe more – than even he had. Looking into Harry's tortured green eyes full of sadness and pain, he felt ashamed for his judgmental attitude. He may have lost a wife and child, but Harry had lost much more. He had lost his parents, his childhood, and his innocence. At that moment he felt very sorry for the boy. Harry broke off the eye contact and looked away, trying not to give Hunter more ammunition to judge him. His feelings were private. It was no one's business. "I don't suppose I'd like it much," Hunter conceded. "In fact, I'd downright hate it." Harry looked up in surprise. He had not expected the other man to agree with him so easily. He could sense the regret coming from his companion, and it gave him hope that perhaps they could learn to get along. He didn't need another enemy. "There's something else I should tell you," Harry said, fighting hard against the lump in his throat. He felt the snake begin to stir inside him, and he knew it was fighting against him – trying to keep him from telling. Remembering what Hunter had said about negative emotions, he took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm his mind before he continued. He filled his mind with images of Ginny and the snake recoiled. How was he to tell a virtual stranger that he heard a snake-like voice in his head and believed he had a something evil living inside his body? "Harry?" Hunter asked, uncertain if the boy was going to continue. He could tell the boy was fighting an internal struggle. When he didn't get a response, he added, "Whatever you tell me, Harry, will stay between us. You have my word." Harry screwed up his courage and took a deep breath. He stumbled over his words at first. "Sometimes... lately – I mean... in the last year since he came back. I feel like there's this snake-thing living inside me. Lately, I hear his... his voice hissing inside my head, talking to me." He did not look up, but continued to talk. Now that he had said it out loud, the worst was over. "The voice... it happened for the first time around the beginning of July and again yesterday," he continued, "...right before I passed out. I also heard him last night at the ballgame." He couldn't look Hunter in the eye. The ex-Auror must surely think him nutters. "Do you think it's a result of the potion?" The serious glint in Hunter's eye intensified. "Dumbledore didn't mention this," he said stiffly. "I-I never got the chance to tell him," Harry revealed truthfully. Of course, his conscience told him he hadn't tried very hard either. "Well, Harry," Stephen said with a sigh. "This does complicate things, doesn't it?" Seeing Harry's obvious discomfort, he took pity on the boy. "Perhaps we'd better begin your training immediately, then, as soon as you feel up to it," he said. "The sooner you get him out of your head for good, the better, eh?" Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he had expected. Perhaps he thought Hunter might laugh at him or refuse to teach him, thinking him far too mad to train, but he suddenly realized that none of those things had happened. In fact, Hunter wanted to start training him immediately. That sounded wonderful to Harry. If Hunter or Snape or anyone else could help him, he'd gladly undergo any amount of pain or hardship to achieve some measure of peace. * A few hours later Harry and Hunter were back in the courtyard. Harry felt much better. Hunter had arranged for a bath to be drawn and Harry had soaked for a long time in the tub trying to gather his courage to begin Occlumency training once again. His experience with Snape the previous year had been less than pleasant, and it was not something he wanted to put himself through with someone he didn't even know. Snape was bad enough, but at least Harry was confident that Snape had wanted the experience over as quickly as he, himself, did. Stephen Hunter was an unknown quantity. Harry had no idea what to expect, and the thought scared him. He had learned the hard way never to let his guard down. Enemies were everywhere just waiting to deceive him. He’d promised himself weeks ago, as he sat by the lake mourning his godfather, that he would never let his guard down again, no matter what. If he was to survive, he couldn't afford to. He vowed that no one he cared about would ever be hurt because he hadn't thought his actions through. It was a serious game, but he'd play along with Hunter for now. He'd be damned if he would ever trust the man, though. He wasn't sure he could trust anyone anymore. After his bath, Harry was pleased to find a clean set of clothes waiting for him, along with his Hogwarts trunk. Pouncing on his trunk, he quickly realized that he had nothing appropriate to wear in this tropical climate and contented himself with the island clothes that had been provided to him. Still, it was nice to have his own belongings here with him. It made him feel closer to his friends and served as a reminder that he still had something worth fighting for. All of the people who cared about him including Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were expecting him to give this his best effort, and he intended to do just that. Hunter first instructed Harry on breathing techniques. He told him the most important element in Occlumency was focusing the mind. In order to build a strong shield, one had to relax and look inward. For an hour they practiced deep breathing and meditation until Harry felt calmer. Then Hunter ran through a basic Occlumency exercise with him. The technique was for Harry to lie on his back and focus on Stephen's voice as he talked him through what Occlumens referred to as the meditative state. A little at a time Harry was instructed to relax his body, starting with his toes and working his way up to his mind. By the time Harry got around to emptying his thoughts, he was so relaxed that it was easy to focus on nothing but the sounds of the distant shore, the chattering of the birds, and the smell of the grass. He could feel the warm sunshine on his face and the gentle breeze tickling his nose. Harry didn't even realize he had fallen asleep. He awoke from his deep slumber to find the ex-Auror gone. He was alone in the courtyard, lying on his back in the grass and feeling more relaxed and at peace than he could ever remember feeling. He had slept soundly for the first time in weeks – on the ground, out in the open and lying flat on his back – without any interference from Voldemort or bad dreams. In fact, he couldn't even remember dreaming. Immediately, Harry was furious that Snape had not taught him this. All he had been instructed to do was to "practice emptying his mind." But Harry's mind was so full he had no clue how to empty it. Having experienced some success, Harry felt more confident now that he could eventually master Occlumency. If he could just learn to do this every night, maybe he'd be able to lock Voldemort out of his mind for good, and sleep peacefully for a change. These thoughts spurred him into action. He needed to find that book Hunter had been reading. Perhaps it held more clues that could help him. Looking around, however, Harry had no idea where his host might have gone. There were doors on every side of the square house and they were all closed. The only one he was sure about was his own door. He didn't know where any of the others led, and he wasn't comfortable just trying them at random. As he was thinking this over, he heard a noise off to his right and swung around just in time to see a rather large woman exit one of the closed doors. She was round and plump, almost matronly. Harry was immediately reminded of Mrs. Weasley. She came up to him and spoke in broken English, smiling in a motherly way, "Did you nap nice?" Harry was surprised. He had not expected to be able to understand her. "Yes, thanks. I did sleep well." "You feel better now?" she asked, still smiling. "Yes, I do," he affirmed. "Who are you? Where's Mr. Hunter?" "I, Chuen," she said, indicating herself. "Xolotl go see Tecuhtl about Tlaloc. He come back soon." Harry's hopes fell. He really wanted that book. He looked around, hoping to see it still lying on the table where he and Hunter had eaten breakfast earlier. To his disappointment, the table was bare. "Chuen help, Sir?" she asked, noticing his odd behaviour. "There was a book... Mr. Hunter was reading it earlier at breakfast. Do you know where it is?" he asked hopefully. "Ahh... yes," she said, her face lighting up. "Book in library," she said. "Library?" Harry asked. "Where?" "Chuen show Sir," she said, indicating that he follow. "Come. This way." She led him to the third door on the side opposite Harry's room. He reasoned that it must be kept locked, because she waved her hand in front of the handle-less door and it immediately sprung open. Inside was a vast room full of books. Hunter's library would make Hermione drool, Harry thought. The trouble was he had no idea where to begin looking. There were so many books, that he reckoned it could take him hours to find the one he was looking for. He was about to ask Chuen for help when she abruptly disappeared. So much for that, he thought with a sigh. Figuring he had nothing better to do, he decided he might as well get started. First, he perused the large shelves stacked haphazardly with books, and quickly realised the situation was more hopeless than he had originally thought. The books were in no particular order. They were not grouped by subject, author, or any other means that Harry could ascertain. Finding the one he wanted would take hours, at this rate, he thought grumpily. After an hour, he was groaning in frustration when the door opened and sunlight streamed into the room. Expecting it to be Hunter or Chuen, Harry did not turn around. "I'm looking for the book on Occlumency," he said irritably from behind a rather dusty shelf, "but if it's here, I don't seem to be able to find it." "Xolotl files his books by when he gets them," a feminine voice said, with a heavy accent but in perfect English. "It would take hours for anyone else to find a particular volume, but him – two minutes," she said, snapping her fingers, "as long as no one moves them out of place." Harry poked his head out from behind the shelf. Standing in the doorway, looking at him accusingly, was a girl about his age. She was dressed in fine clothes made of a delicate material. Her dark hair was braided in one long braid and she wore gold jewellery. It was obvious she was nobility from the way she held herself. She moved with a grace that reminded Harry of a princess. He immediately felt his neck grow warm. "Er... sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone," Harry stammered. The girl raised her eyebrow. "No? It seemed you were expecting someone, just not me," she said haughtily. "Do you live here?" Harry asked. "Of course not," the girl replied rather disdainfully. "Then, in my world it is considered polite to knock before entering someone else’s room," Harry said coolly. "I was looking for Xolotl," she said snapped. She seemed taken aback that someone would address her in such a manner. "Who?" Harry asked with false politeness. He had heard Chuen refer to Hunter as Xolotl, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. "Your- how you say? Your brother," she said. At Harry's blank look, she said impatiently, "The one called Haunt-er." "He's not my brother," Harry said just as impatiently. "Are you not from the land across the water? Eagleland?" she asked. "That's England," Harry corrected. "And yes, I suppose we are both from there, but that doesn't make us brothers." "In my world, when two men are from the same tribe, they are considered brothers," she said just as coolly. Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He was saved from further discussion with the horrid girl by the appearance of the man in question barging through the door. "Ah, Harry," he said, his mouth twisting in a smile at seeing the two of them facing off. "I see you've met the lovely Masaya." "Masaya?" Harry asked, incredulously. "The chief's daughter? The one Tlaloc was making such a fuss about last night?" "Yes, the one and the same," Hunter replied. "Xolotl," Masaya said angrily, "who is this… boy?" She looked between Harry and Hunter expectantly. It was the same look Fleur had used when she had called him a little boy after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Harry immediately bristled. "Ah, forgive me, Your Highness," Hunter said with a courteous bow. "It's my pleasure to introduce to you Mr. Harry James Potter – your future husband." Pronunciation guide: Xolotl: She-o-lot-l Tecuhtl: te-cute-l Masaya: ma-say-a Tlaloc: tal-lock Chuen: chew-an
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