An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. Harry sat Women Toms Cordones down in a chair beside Sirius, facing Snape across the table. ‘I was supposed to see you alone, Potter,’ said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, ‘but Black—’ ‘I'm his godfather,’ said Sirius, louder than ever. ‘I am here on Dumbledore's orders.’ said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, ‘but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel ... involved.’ ‘What's that supposed to mean?’ said Sirius, letting his chair fall back on to all four legs with a loud bang. ‘Merely that I am sure you must feel—ah—frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful,’ Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, ‘for the Order.’ It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry. ‘The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.’ ‘Study what?’ said Harry blankly. Snape's sneer became more pronounced.