Chapter Four: Occlumency

Evelyn...

   Hogsmeade's Disaster appeared on the top news of the Daily Prophet early the next morning; but the Ministry wasn't so happy, that all the Wizarding world were gossiping about the simple words: they couldn't catch a single Death Eater.

   But to Hogwarts's fortunate, none of the students seemed to be seriously injured; not by the Death Eaters or the Ministry at least __ some of the students had tripped when they were running, and some had got an extremely raspy voice caused by screaming.

   It was really funny that the Death Eaters they couldn't catch one were sitting in front of me, eating their breakfast like they didn't just destroy a whole shop yesterday. They were under my gaze every day, and even funnier: they were my friends.

   However, even though they were my friends __ some of them __ it wouldn't change the fact that I was still angry about their last day's attack at the Ollivander's shop. I could not ignore the fact that I, and Pansy, were both at Hogsmeade meanwhile and we could easily get injured __ by our so-called friends.

   I was angry, yes, but I wasn't stupid to blame them for Voldemort's orders. And, fortunately, me and Pansy were both as healthy as before the attack, so I decided not to complain about their last day's show, and either did I ask, or was curious, to know what was their point for exploding the shop.

   However, it wasn't a good thing that I didn't have any enthusiasm in me, because I was supposed to find out, anyway.

   When we arrived back at Hogwarts, I made my way straight to the dormitory and got in the bed; for Pansy would definitely ask me about the attack, and, well, I wouldn't be so keen to tell her that I mended my enemy's bones, and, also, the more I would tell her, the more unpleasant questions she would come up with.

   Speaking of: the so-called enemy, Mattheo, kept throwing me manipulative flirtatious glances since, and would randomly grin whenever I talked or didn't. It seemed like the world had turned upside down. But besides the odd behavior he had been keeping up with me, he looked as though his father had thrown him out of his home. He was pissed, and, other than me, he was looking at everyone as if he wanted to murder them.

   Or maybe he actually did.

   And that was the Mattheo I always knew and loathed.

...

   A day on I sat in the headmaster's study at eight o'clock. With the desk gone, I was unpleasantly facing my old guardian, sitting on the chair right in front of him.

   Dumbledore had decided I would need to study Occlumency before walking right into the danger __ right into Mattheo __ which, as long as I knew, was beneficial for keeping his intelligent plan safe.

   He explained there was a possibility that Mattheo would be studying Legilimency by his parents __ the most skilled Legilimens, Voldemort, and his subservience wife, my father's dear cousin __ and that we should not ignore the possibilities.

   If Mattheo knew Legilimency, I needed to know Occlumency. For if he would attempt to intrude my mind and I wouldn't be able to stop him, a disaster was going to be made, which Dumbledore did not benefit.

   "Surely you are having an enjoyable first week back at Hogwarts?" asked Dumbledore sweetly.

   He looked tired, even exhausted. And I noticed, when he locked his fingers on the table in front of his silver beard, that his left hand was badly injured.

   His hand was shrivelled and blackened, as if it was burnt. But surely, if it was just a normal injury like burn, a wizard like Dumbledore would have mended it the moment it got injured.

   An injury like this can be only caused by the Dark Arts.

   I tore my gaze away from his injured hand just to look at his face instead.

   "Yes." I don't know why a simple word like that was so weird to speak.

   "Very well." Dumbledore smiled weakly. His voice was tired, but still smooth. "I wonder," a pause, "if the little thing you have been expected to do is also going well?"

   I pressed my lips together. "He seems to be letting his guard down."

   He nodded. "Well then. Shall we begin?"

   At my nod, he started: "Very well. Occlumency is not quite hard to understand or learn.    Especially for you. I am aware of your strong mind, and that you have a very good control, and understanding, over your emotions and thoughts. And that is absolutely one of the reasons I have chosen you for this little mission."

   "To apply Occlumency, what you only need, that I am sure you already know well, is to close your mind against the intrusion of the abuser. You need to focus, take control over your emotions, and avoid thinking about the thoughts you might not want them to figure out. Or, perhaps, any thoughts at all."

   "In Legilimency, eye contact matters so much. However, skilled Legilimenses are capable of penetrating a mind with the least, or even with no eye contact at all. Meanwhile, the others might need a very strong eye contact. So, best for the Occlumenses, and for you, not to keep any eye contact at all." He gave me a light smile.

   "Well. That was the matters you needed to understand before we would start the practical part of our lesson. Which, I will try to enter your mind, and you will try not to let it happen."

   "You may have your wand out, however, better not to focus on using it. What you are trying to do is to close your mind, not to defend yourself. And the fact: you might not have it when a Legilimens is before you, trying to abuse your thoughts."

   I nodded. "Then I don't need my wand."

   "Verry well." He brushed his silver beard with his wrinkled fingers. "Well, then. I want you to kindly close your eyes, take deep breaths, and prepare your mind to defeat my intrusion. And, I shall announce you, I will do it without warnings." He smiled.

   I nodded and did as he said so; with a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and threw the thoughts out of my head the best I could. I focused on my breathing; taking calm, deep, steady breaths, and let all the emotions leave my body.

   After some seconds of darkness in my mind, I felt it: blurry memories began to slide past my mind, while I had no control of it. A girl sitting on the grass... Black Lake... A drawing...

   The smaller me was crying... curled up in a corner of a room... It was my birthday...sixth birthday... No one remembered... not even my Dad... He wasn't my Dad... Dumbledore... He was busy...

   Stop it... stop it... Get out of my head...

   And It stopped, though I knew it wasn't me who stopped it.

   I could feel a thin layer of sweat covering my skin, my heart throbbing in my head; I gripped the arm chairs of my chair, trying to ease the dizziness, my head sagging lower and lower.

   After moments of recovering myself, I finally looked up, but I avoided Dumbledore's gaze, as if looking at him would make me feel sicker.

   "Evelyn," he said, his voice soft and pitiful. "I __"

   "I'm not a child anymore." I cut him off. My voice was calm, but, still, bitter. "I don't need your pity."

   I know he opened his mouth to continue the pathetic pitiful words, but fortunately, he understood it was not the best time, and that I did not want to hear them.

   "Do you need to take a __ ?"

   "No. We can continue." I cut him off again.

   Pathetically, a lot of pathetic emotions were going through me at the same time.

   I was ashamed that the little me was crying over such a stupid, pathetic thing; I was angry with my six years old self, but I could still feel how sick I felt at that moment.

   I was embarrassed that Dumbledore just saw me crying like a stupid little child, but, nevertheless, a part of me still wanted to show him, wanted him to see how he made me feel as just a six years old child. I wanted him to feel the guilt he was meant for, I wanted him to blame himself for life; for the father he was, that he never was.

   The time went by, more memories revealed; minutes and seconds passed and made me feel sicker and sicker. After long years, I got reminded of the dark memories a left buried in my past again. How I was a defeated, pathetic child getting bullied about her 'quirky' behavior.

   At that time, I was afraid of everyone. I was bullied, humiliated and mocked. But then I built a completely new person out of that weak child.

   When I came back to my senses, my hands were wet in sweats, my head and heart pounding worse in fatigue, and the annoying dizziness was blurring my vision; I was really tired. Not physically, for I didn't physically do anything. But my exhausted and overwhelmed mind was affecting my body, that I felt like I had been running for two hours straight.

   "I think that will do for tonight," Dumbledore spoke.

   I rubbed my palms on my skirt to dry the sweats off; I closed and opened my eyes, and the blurriness slowly faded away.

   "As I had expected, you did a really impressive job." He gave me a soft smile I didn't want to see. "Even though you let me enter at last, you managed to resist many times for a minute long. I am indeed very impressed."

   I released a soft breath, my nose stuck in the air.

   "One last thing before you leave," Dumbledore went on. "I am going to give you homeworks to do: Kindly, every night before you go to your sweet sleep, you will need to empty your mind. I am sure you know how to do it. It will very help you to train your mind for Occlumency."

   I nodded wearily, that small movement straining every muscle in my body.

   "I will let you know the time of our next lesson, when I'll make sure we both will make it." A pathetic smile. "Now, it is getting quite a bit late, surely you don't want to get into any trouble."

   I nodded yet again, lifting my weight upon my tired feet to step towards the entrance.

   "I wish you a good luck. And Goodnight, Evelyn."

   How pathetic.

   I had had no chance in fathers, even from the very beginning. When my present father __ I mean, my real blood-father, Sirius Black, was in Azkaban, and I didn't even know someone called "Sirius Black" had existed, Albus Dumbledore was my guardian; he was my father on the papers, but he, too, wasn't really my father at all.

   I mean, what a good father would stay in his study all the time, and would loose his child in a huge castle like Hogwarts, to only call his child to see her weekly, just to tell her "Take care of yourself" or tell her congratulations when she would pass her exams. And then, would put his child through a pathetic mission like this.

   I could never forgive him for simply forgetting about me since the moment he took me in.

   To be honest, my actual parent was always Hogwarts, and the people in it were my guardians. I lived under this roof, raised with the students running in these corridors, and learned with the teachers who were teaching in these rooms.

   Yet, I couldn't find a place any more pathetic than here.