"He's furious!"
Harry suddenly opened his eyes, wrenching himself back to the present. He was sitting in an armchair in Dumbledore's office, with Dumbledore leaning over him.
"Voldemort's had far too many frustrations tonight."
Dumbledore gave his wand a light flick, conjured a glass of butterbeer out of thin air, and handed it to Harry. "After all, you ruined a plan he'd spent over half a year putting together," he explained with a smile. "I imagine he must be very angry. Still, Harry, I would like you to close your mind."
"That's not easy. Albert was right. I don't have much talent for Occlumency." Harry did not think being able to sense Voldemort's emotions was such a terrible thing. At least he could get plenty of useful information from them.
"That was merely an excuse he made up because he couldn't be bothered to teach you," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "If you put your mind to learning it, you will succeed eventually. It depends on your attitude toward the matter."
"Maybe, but he rarely lies."
Harry had long since realized that he had little talent for Occlumency.
"Perhaps it is time," Dumbledore said suddenly. "Perhaps I should tell you what you need to know."
"The prophecy?"
Harry took a sip of butterbeer and asked curiously.
His guess had been right. Dumbledore really did know what was in the prophecy orb.
"Yes, it concerns that prophecy," Dumbledore said with a nod. "As you suspected, I do indeed know its full contents."
"Is that really a good idea?" Harry voiced his doubts. "If Voldemort keeps looking into my mind, he might actually uncover those memories."
"Possibly, but he will not do that."
"Why?"
"Do you remember Quirrell?" Dumbledore explained. "Your soul is too searing for Voldemort. It is like placing his hand on