Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [222]
“Did you see everything I saw?” Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
“Flashes of it,” said Snape, his lip curling. “To whom did the dog belong?”
“My Aunt Marge,” Harry muttered, hating Snape.
“Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been,” said Snape, raising his wand once more. “You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand.”
“I’m trying,” said Harry angrily, “but you’re not telling me how!”
“Manners, Potter,” said Snape dangerously. “Now, I want you to close your eyes.”
Harry threw him a filthy look before doing as he was told. He did not like the idea of standing there with his eyes shut while Snape faced him, carrying a wand.
“Clear your mind, Potter,” said Snape’s cold voice. “Let go of all emotion. …”
But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. …
“You’re not doing it, Potter. … You will need more discipline than this. … Focus, now. …”
Harry tried to empty his mind, tried not to think, or remember, or feel. …
“Let’s go again … on the count of three … one — two — three — Legilimens!”
A great black dragon was rearing in front of him. … His father and mother were waving at him out of an enchanted mirror. … Cedric Diggory was lying on the ground with blank eyes staring at him. …
“NOOOOOOO!”
He was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands, his brain aching as though someone had been trying to pull it from his skull.
“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”
Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was.
“I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”
“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.
“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”
“I am not weak,” said Harry in a low voice, fury now pumping through him so that he thought he might attack Snape in a moment.
“Then prove it! Master yourself!” spat Snape. “Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!”
He was watching Uncle Vernon hammering the letter box shut. … A hundred dementors were drifting across the lake in the grounds toward him. … He was running along a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley. … They were drawing nearer to the plain black door at the end of the corridor. … Harry expected to go through it … but Mr. Weasley led him off to the left, down a flight of stone steps. …
“I KNOW! I KNOW!”
He was on all fours again on Snape’s office floor, his scar was prickling unpleasantly, but the voice that had just issued from his mouth was triumphant. He pushed himself up again to find Snape staring at him, his wand raised. It looked as though, this time, Snape had lifted the spell before Harry had even tried to fight back.
“What happened then, Potter?” he asked, eyeing Harry intently.
“I saw — I remembered,” Harry panted. “I’ve just realized …”
“Realized what?” asked Snape sharply.
Harry did not answer at once; he was still savoring the moment of blinding realization as he rubbed his forehead. …
He had been dreaming about a windowless corridor ending in a locked door for months, without once realizing that it was a real place. Now, seeing the memory again, he knew that all along he had been dreaming