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Assistant: Title: Another Mind Game
        Author: May_May_0_0 May_May_0_0 
        Chapter: 5/17 
        Summary: Harry’s occlumency reveals his disturbing home life which sets off a chain reaction that cannot be undone. Snape finds himself begrudgingly caring about the bespectacled boy, Harry discovers what it's like to have adults who care, and Hermione finds herself becoming an accidental crime lord. Draco Malfoy is very much along for the ride, in all senses of the word.A ridiculous blend of hilarity and tragedy, Another Mind Game is the multi-faceted fanfiction you didn't know you wanted but will absolutely adore.Featuring a sassy Harry Potter, good friends, and a great deal of sarcasm. There are also ridiculous endnotes if you make it far enough.  (You can do it!)
        Contents: Chapter 5: Wands Away
    

    

        
          
          
            Nobody likes Umbridge. They never have, and they never will. Also, Harry sometimes hates people who aren't dark lords.
          
        

      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    “Wands away.” Umbridge chirped, settling her fuschia clad self in a comfortable chair and watching over the class with barely disguised loathing. Umbridge was staring at Harry very seriously, clearly expecting him to blow up as he had done previously in her class.   Not today toad woman, not today. Harry pulled out his textbook obediently and began to write a lesson plan for the DA in a notebook he had nestled inside the book’s cover. It was clever charmwork, to anyone other than himself the notes he took would appear to cover the day’s material.  Harry sighed inwardly. He felt like it was nothing short of a miracle that he still enjoyed DADA given his horrific teachers. He knew that Quirrel ought to have been the worst professor he’d had; the man had been possessed by Lord Voldyshorts himself and had attempted to kill an eleven-year-old boy. In the face of his replacements, however, Quirrell was forgettable and moderately competent.  Voldemort would be mortified to learn that he was my second best defense professor and the one I forget about the most. He probably thinks he’s never been forgettable in his life. Harry found himself wishing for the stuttering, garlic smelling man over the saccharine disgusting mess that comprised one Dolores Umbridge. In fact, Harry decided that Umbridge was the worst defense professor he had ever had, which was remarkable because currently all of his defense professors had made some attempt on his sanity or life.  
   Right, Lockhart would have wiped my mind clean, Lupin was amazing but he would have ripped me to shreds unwittingly, and Crouch was literally a death eater. Umbridge and her blood quill shouldn’t make me feel so upset. She’s not really a threat to my life. 
 But Harry was upset. Umbridge disturbed him in ways Harry could not explain to anyone really.  She reminds me of a mixture of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wearing Mrs. Figg’s clothes. Perhaps that was where the hatred stemmed from.  Harry shook his head and returned to planning his lesson. He was going to teach the DA the “Somnus” spell, which would cause the person struck to fall into a restful sleep. It was useful to cast on a friend if they were magically exhausted and one did not have access to dreamless sleep or the resources to brew the potion. It would render an attacker unconscious and was more enduring and disorienting than a “Stupefy.” It wasn’t an obscure spell per se, but it was not well known. It had two variants. The first was incredibly useful, the “Somnus Protectorae,” which would cause an attacker’s shield to go to “sleep,” and become dormant and useless. It could affect most shields, including a “Protego.” Harry was still trying to learn how to counteract the hex in the event someone cast it on one of his own shields.  The other variant was the “Somnus Maximae." Details about this variation had been hidden and were only found in old family libraries. Harry had found a book from the Black family library detailing the effects of this variation of the spell. The Somnus Maximae spell was considered to be more potent than Draught of the Living Death. It placed someone in deep sleep permanently unless the spell was canceled. The only way to end the spell was through a series of complicated runes that used the blood of the spell caster. The spell was not illegal only because it was viewed as impossible to complete and a kind of magical fool’s gold. The “Somnus Maximae” required the spell-caster to use enough magical energy to completely overpower the person on whom the spell was cast permanently. This meant that the spell caster needed to part with an enormous sum of magic forever. Most people who had attempted the spell did not have the necessary amount of magic and had died. As far as Harry could tell, the only recorded attempt to have worked was on an English princess named Aurora. Evidently, the story had gone on to become the muggle fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty. Harry would not explicitly tell anyone about the spell, but he would answer questions if they came up. Hopefully, anyone in the DA would know better than to attempt it. “Ahem, hem.” Harry looked up to find Umbridge peering over his shoulder and looking at what appeared to be impeccable notes on the dangers of Erodian dragon venom.  “May I help you, Professor?” Harry asked politely. Umbridge looked at him and then at his hand with a sort of grim satisfaction.  “I just wanted to check-in. Are you enjoying the reading?”  Harry smiled in the fakest way he could. “Of course, Professor. I find theory ever so useful in protecting myself against the dangers of the world.”  Umbridge narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think you need protection from, Mr. Potter? Surely you should know by now not to lie about any “dark lords” for the sake of attention?” She said.  Harry swore someone from the Slytherin side of the room muttered, “he doesn’t need to do anything to get attention, it follows him around like a sick puppy, that b@st@rd.”  Harry laughed and turned it into a fake cough. He turned his eyes up to Umbridge and clenched his fists to avoid a shudder. “Oh, I just wanted to be protected from Erodian dragon venom. My best friend’s brother works with dragons, and I thought it could be fun to go and visit. You can’t expect me to try and prepare for dark lords with  this class , could you?” Ron puffed up slightly, recognizing that he was the best friend with a dragon taming brother. Umbridge snatched out Harry’s notes and looked at them. “Mr. Potter, I think someone like  you  should have no place near dragons.” Harry looked at her blankly.  Neville Longbottom snorted. “Something funny, Mr. Longbottom?” Umbridge asked sweetly.  “Oh, just, you must not have watched the Triwizard tournament. Harry here outflew a dragon.” Neville said.  “Ah yes, the tournament. The misguided event from which Mr. Potter’s ridiculous lies begin.” Umbridge turned back to Harry.  Harry held back a snarl and desired very strongly to throw Umbridge bodily from the school and feed her to the thestrals.  Cedric died. Who else could have killed him? You know NOTHING. Harry took a deep breath and concentrated on the image of his stag. He thought perhaps he heard a gentle hum and felt a slight warmth settle around his shoulders. “Professor, would I be able to go back to taking notes on the reading for this class? As I said, the material is fascinating and I find notes the best way to help the information  sink in.”  Harry widened his eyes until he looked a mockery of innocence. Umbridge handed back the notebook with no small amount of suspicion and leered down at his hand.  I’m bad at lying anyway. Umbridge reluctantly left Harry to his lesson plans and went around the room and invaded everyone’s personal space. 
   Am I a bad person because I hate Voldemort nearly as much for cursing this g@dd@mn teaching position as I hate him for murdering my parents?  
 Harry took one look at Hermione’s enraged face as she sat with her book closed and her hand high in the air and allowed his shoulders to relax.  Ah, I guess even if I am, I am not alone in hating Voldemort so greatly for so petty a reason.   … Severus had spent his morning poring over letters Dumbledore had kept from his correspondence with Arabella Figg. Dumbledore liked to believe that Severus was a dangerous man on a tight leash, so ridden with vows and guilt and hatred that Severus was capable of thinking only when it suited the headmaster. Dumbledore forgot that although he had expertly crafted his chessboard and manufactured his pieces, Severus was still capable of independent thought.  And I will become a player, old man. You may look at me as a valuable tool and as evidence of your compassion, but I am bitter and angry. I did not cast off one master to yoke myself to another.   Severus was the youngest potions master in Hogwarts history, and he had been so proficient at curse casting and spell crafting that he had joined the Dark Lord’s inner circle decades younger than other members. While in their meeting Albus had been struggling with his emotions and justifications, Severus had hidden behind his Occlumency barriers and carefully cast a geminio charm on the letters Albus held from Figg. He had turned his face away and concealed the duplicated parchment, leaving the office with the headmaster’s private correspondence.  I wonder, will you read them again now? Will you see the signs of your failure to the boy?  Severus's lips curled in disgust as he looked back down at the letters.  He looked at Figg’s fears for Harry’s food.  “I’m worried about Harry, Albus. He doesn’t look like he’s getting enough to eat at home.”   The response, foolish and uninterested.  “Ah, yes. Young Harry is at that age where they will be picky.”   Figg had responded with a bit of anger.  “He’s skin and bones, that boy. I swear I saw him looking through the bin the other day for a bite to eat. That is not what normal five-year-old children do, Albus. Something is wrong.”   Dumbledore had not responded to that letter, it would appear. He looked at another concern from Mrs. Figg.  
   “I always thought that he might have bruises, but today his cheek was black and blue. I think they are beating him in that home, Albus. You must remove him.”  
 Severus had never noticed how quickly one could be moved to hatred until he saw the response.  “How wonderful it is for Harry to have friends to rough house with. Family and friends like that are precious, just like young Harry.”   Severus bit the inside of his cheek.  Precious indeed. Like prized cattle, you treat him.   Again, Mrs. Figg had not given up.  “The other day, I asked him to come help me in the kitchen because the Dursleys were out and I saw his shirt ride up. Tell me, Albus, what roughhousing results in lash marks?”   Severus felt his pulse quicken.  Lash marks? No … Surely she was mistaken. Gods.  Dumbledore had sent back a nonsense letter, but Severus could feel something of a charm echoing softly from the duplicate he held. It was light, but it was a mood-modifier. Mrs. Figg wouldn’t forget anything she had seen, but the charm would make her feel unconcerned about her observations and she would let go of the need to do anything. Severus felt the same charm cast over much of the correspondence. Mrs. Figg had been charmed to feel at ease with the situation and let go of any anger or righteous indignation she felt.  No wonder she stopped writing letters. No wonder she was told to give up. No wonder she got more and more upset the more she talked to me. The reasons she was upset must have come back to her, bit by bit, so instead of just knowing the facts, she regained her emotional response.   
   “Give him hell for me, indeed.” 
 … Harry smiled on his way to meet with Professor Snape. It was Thursday, and by now the whole school had benefited from Snape’s ‘practical demonstrations.’ The first years had no idea how bad Snape was  supposed to be, and had all decided he’d had a hard time with Umbridge but had moved past it to become a wonderful professor.  Harry had nearly spat out his tea when one first-year Gryffindor, Marlena Mason or something, had said dreamily, “Oh I can just see why he became a potions master so young. He’s so quick with his fingers sometimes and that way he cuts through quartz like it’s butter is mmm. Do you think he’d want an apprentice?” Harry had started choking but had quickly regained his self-control. Then he had leaned over so that he could make eye contact with the girl, who had begun blushing immediately, and before any of the other firsties could answer, he had begun a new Hogwarts rumor.  “I can answer that, I think.” Harry had said. All the eyes of the first years fixed upon him, and some of the second years who still believed they could earn Snape’s favor despite being Gryffindors. “Snape has been so lonely for such a long time, that he favors quiet. The closer you can keep to absolutely silent, and the more you show that you can listen to him, the more Snape will care for you. I’ve heard from a reputable source that he also responds well to the reddest wine you can find.”  Harry had leaned back and forced his expression to turn mysterious, and perhaps a third of the girls had begun feverishly asking what would make them gain  Harry Potter’s affections because who wants Snape anyway, he looks like a bat. But enough students were nodding like Harry had spoken the truth of gods. And so Harry looked at all of them with his green eyes smoldering and his gaze slightly unfocused and he said, “I heard it all from Dolos.”  And thus, by the evening, the rumor had spread to all edges of the castle. It was said that Snape was looking for a quiet, peaceful, partner, one who was wealthy and could provide him with the best of the wine, one who would heal his soul from his past lover Dolos. When Hermione had heard the rumor she had laughed aloud and leaned over to Harry and whispered, “Dolos is the Greek god of lies.”  Harry had smiled at her like he was a goblin and said, “Oh, believe me, I know.”  Harry was in high spirits indeed when he entered Snape’s office. He paused for a moment when his foot crossed the threshold. The stone walls of the office had been adorned with silks of green, gold, and silver. The desk had been pushed to one edge of the room. In the center were two pillowed green armchairs with golden trim, facing one another and separated by a glass coffee table. Snape was sitting with straight-backed posture in one chair and he held a glass of a dark liquid in his hand.  Is that red wine?  Harry took a moment and found his voice. “You’ve redecorated, Professor.”  Snape raised a brow. “An astute observation. Sit, Mr. Potter.” Harry walked over to the offered armchair and sank down slowly. The chair was soft and comfortable. Snape smirked and sipped his drink. “A gift, from a secret admirer,” Snape said. “Wonderful red wine and it came with a promise of wondrous quiet.”  Harry did not know what to say, so he decided to say nothing. Snape gave him a glance and then continued to speak. “I have also received offers, from all ages of students, to avenge my honor against my former lover Dolos. He was, apparently, a dark and powerful wizard, with lots of money but no eye for my talents. Or she was Ariane Dolos, an enchantress who meant to steal my blood and immortalize herself as the first vampire to wield a wand.”  Harry blanched. “Well, Professor,” Harry said working hard to keep his voice steady, “that’s quite the story. It does look like good wine.”  Snape took a small sip. “Dark enough that it looks like blood, doesn’t it? A bi-product, of course, from my time with Ariane. Never let it be said that I did not know what she was attempting.”  Harry was so out of place he felt he was falling. “Ah, you never did mention her, Professor.” Snape took another sip. “Indeed, I was quite embarrassed. For a potions master to willingly expose the properties of his own blood ...” Snape tsked. “At least the students know now that I prefer the quiet.”  Harry bounced his knee slightly. “And that’s a good thing, Professor?”  Snape placed his wine glass on the table. “Delightful. A few students answered my questions today in a whisper so as to avoid disrupting my peace. You see, after I split with Dolos, I wanted solitude and they all understand how I value tranquility.”  Harry could not help himself. He began to laugh. Snape’s eyes narrowed at Harry’s laughing form, and then Snape himself let out a quiet chuckle. “I would have been angry with you, of course,” Snape said, shocking Harry out of his laughter, “if you had not accurately assessed my desire for quiet, told all of my students I wanted them to listen and named my former lover after the God of lies. All of my smarter students know the whole rumor is ridiculous based on that component, and I have effectively separated my students based on their intellect.”  Harry began to speak but Snape held up a hand. “I have become mysterious, now, Mr. Potter. And, I shudder to say this,  romantic. ”  “Ah, well then, I’m sorry?”  Snape leaned back in his chair. “I am not fond of pranks. They bring up bad memories for me. This is perhaps the most flattering one that has been inflicted upon me, but it is the only one you will ever perform. If I hear you start one more false rumor about me, or conspire with the Weasley twins to do one action that will disturb my most sought-after peace, I will destroy you, Harry Potter.”  Harry looked at Snape with wide eyes.  He sounds like Hermione. “I understand, sir. I meant no harm, I was just trying to save you from hordes of little girls trying to be your apprentice.”  Snape ran a finger around the edge of his wine glass. “Yes, adding in the practical component to my teaching has resulted in an unhealthy amount of adoration. I will endeavor to be very frightening in the future. Perhaps Dolos will send me dark magical items.” Snape chuckled again.  Harry shrugged. “I suppose you would be very angry if Dolos got a new lover.”  Snape looked at Harry appraisingly. “You would have done well in Slytherin.”  Harry shrugged. “The hat certainly thought so.”  Snape paused for a moment, considering this new piece of information. “I will ask you about that later. For now, I would like for you to try casting a Patronus in your mind  and staying awake at the same time.”  Harry tried. He tried again. Three times he fell asleep as he summoned Prongs. On the fourth attempt, he cast a Patronus and kept his eyes open as he felt it in his mind. Snape had already said, “Legilimens,” and Harry could  feel Snape  and thought the sensation was unpleasant. He could feel his professor trying to go somewhere, but Harry would think, “no, not there,” “stay where you are.” The feeling became almost painful, like there was fire beneath his eye-sockets, and Harry wanted the sensation gone. Almost immediately he felt the presence vanish and Snape’s body jerked with sensation.  “You’re glowing,” Snape said.  “What?” Harry asked.  “You’re glowing.”  Harry looked down at his hands and saw a faint silver light.  Prongs, I’m safe now.  The room suddenly felt very quiet. He had not realized he’d been hearing the song until he could hear it no longer. Snape was staring at him again.  “It is uncommon magic, Potter.”  Harry looked at Snape. “All the better to defeat Voldemort with.”  Snape hissed but looked proud in spite of himself. “Don’t call him that, idiot boy. Not around someone who’s marked.”  Harry looked down at his feet. “Sorry Professor.” Then Harry looked up and made unconcerned eye contact with Snape. “But I won’t call him the Dark Lord either. Riddle, maybe, because of that diary I found second year.”  Snape crossed one leg over the other. “Ah yes, when you were twelve years old and slew a basilisk.”  Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, then. You make it sound so unbelievable and impossible. It wasn’t a big deal. I distinctly remember a sword and a phoenix. It was hardly as if I worked alone.”  Snape laughed and it sounded bitter as burnt coffee. “Your family must be some demons from hell for nightmares to appear to you like meaningless dreams.” Snape stared at Harry then, and his body language displayed an invitation.  He wants me to talk about the Dursleys.  Harry stood up, feeling like all the joy had left him. “I will tell you Professor, one day, I think. But I can’t yet. I can’t.”  Snape stood too. “I know, Potter. For what it’s worth, my father was not a good man.”  Harry bit his lip. “Did he hurt you, Professor?”Snape fell silent for a long moment, long enough that Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Yes.” Snape finally answered.  Harry was unsure of what to do, so he said the words he’d always wanted to hear. “It wasn’t your fault, Professor. Something must have been wrong with him for him to --” Snape placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I know, Harry.” Snape’s voice was impossibly gentle. “It wasn’t your fault either. You were not and are not unlovable.” Harry shuddered.  “Sometimes, I think I hate Uncle Vernon more than Vold--, more than Riddle. Because at least with Riddle, I get to fight back, you know?” Snape nodded once. “I understand, Harry. I know.”  Harry gave a half-smile, shrugged off Snape’s hand, and left the office quietly. Snape collapsed back into one of the chairs.  
   A child told me it wasn’t my fault. Lily, he’s just like you.  
... Snape was seated at his desk again, and he was looking down at a chessboard. Snape replayed his conversation with the headmaster and got stuck on one moment in particular.  “Have you given him a happy childhood?”  
   “He has been happy,”  
  He did not say, “he is happy.” He did not say, “I am trying.” He said, “he has been happy,” as though the happiness is ending and this childhood was the best Harry could have hoped for. As if the end of Harry Potter is already in sight, and not as if he is speaking about a fifteen-year-old   boy.   
   “He has been happy?” Such rubbish words.  
 “He will be happy.” Severus did not to whom he was making the promise, as he reclined heavily in a chair with golden trim and sipped expensive red wine from someone he had never met. “He will be happy.”
  
  

  
  

    
      
        
        
          I don't know how quickly I will keep writing this story, but I am overwhelmed by the response. This is my first ever fanfic and publishing of my work, and I swear I get so nervous every time I publish a chapter. I can't believe how positive everyone has been, and that I already have 1000 hits. Thank you, everyone!Stay tuned for Draco to become a real character next chapter. I see blonde hair in the future.'
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