You're Not a Horse, Harry!

Number 27

The first thing Harry did, after telling his friends to go ahead and save him a seat in the Great Hall, was reach in his pocket and pull out his phone. While Dumbledore led the way through the corridors with rigid steps, Harry started a video call with his parents and the rest of the Avengers, just as they’d planned.

Harry’s parents weren’t idiots. They’d insisted Harry contact them at once should Dumbledore try to make some kind of move. In fact, just at that very moment, all of the Avengers plus Bucky were camped out in Hogsmeade, ready to come to the rescue if needed. None of them had forgotten that Dumbledore had effectively ordered Harry imprisoned for the Christmas holidays.

When the video call connected, Harry didn’t say anything, but just winked at his parents and Tony, whose faces he could see on the screen. He moved the phone around so his parents could see Dumbledore’s back as Harry followed him to his office. Loki returned his wink while Tony gave him a huge grin. Thor simply nodded at Harry while he sat back to watch the show.

Dumbledore didn’t speak to him until they were both seated in his office, Harry with the phone in his lap so the Avengers could see his face and hear the entire conversation.

“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said, hands folded on his desk, face scrunched up in his most severely disappointed expression yet. “Your godfather was tremendously saddened that you not only refused to spend the holidays with him, but that you had your supposed parents absolutely wreck Headquarters.”

Harry managed to keep his expression straight, remembering Natasha’s lessons to keep his emotions under control. Flying off the handle wouldn’t help him in the slightest right now. “That’s an interesting way of saying you ordered me held captive while I wanted to spend the holidays with my family.” Harry swallowed back other replies he might want to give, about Sirius and how his godfather’s denial of Harry’s real parentage truly did hurt Harry. It was none of Dumbledore’s business and Harry refused to give him that sort of private information.

Dumbledore kept quiet for a moment while his severely disappointed expression endured. Then he sighed, long and deep, as though having to deal with Harry was the most exhausting thing in the world. “There were many reasons it was vitally important that you remain at Headquarters.”

“Such as?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“I had asked Professor Snape to start teaching you Occlumency over the holidays,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry over the top of his glasses with narrowed eyes. “It is the art of shielding the mind, and I believe it will help you keep Voldemort out of your head.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t had any strange dreams of being in Voldemort’s head for months now, ever since his mother had removed the soul piece from his forehead. Since then Harry had learned meditation from both Loki and Clint, and that had also helped tremendously to keep his thoughts straight and his emotions under control. Not to mention his therapy sessions with Agatha were starting to become truly helpful in making sense of his own inner workings.

“I doubt my parents would give permission for me to receive some kind of private lessons with a professor who hates me and enjoys nothing more than to make me suffer,” Harry finally said, clamping down on other, far less polite ways of phrasing his horror at the thought of Snape teaching him anything during private lessons.

Dumbledore sighed again. “Harry, Professor Snape wants what is best for you.”

Harry shrugged, because he knew without a doubt that wasn’t true. Snape might want to keep him alive, sure, but Snape didn’t mind one bit if Harry’s life was a gigantic mess of pain and suffering. Then he remembered Ron’s speculation on the train and he couldn’t help but say as he looked around the office, “Where is Snape? I would have thought he’d be here if we’re discussing private lessons with him.”