"Really Harry, it's your own fault." Hermione sniffed, her nose high in the air. Harry blinked at her. She looked quite Malfoy'ish, Harry decided. He really never noticed just how much she and Draco Malfoy had in common. He loved Hermione, but it was really quite unfortunate that she was so bossy and snooty about their marks.
Ron noticed Harry's pensive expression and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry shook his head at Ron and continued to trail behind Hermione to Gryffindor tower.
After a few steps in silence, he responded to Hermione in what he hoped was a light tone. "Hermione, you act a little like Malfoy sometimes." When she and Ron stopped walking and turned to look at Harry in shock, Harry gave a slight laugh and raised his hands, palms up. "I'm am just saying that you care about your grades and can be a little…intense."
Before Harry could go on, Ron voiced his opinion loudly "That great prat only cares about being a Death Eater, not his grades, Harry!"
Deciding it was at least half true, and pointless to debate, Harry nodded and started walking again. Draco actually was an arse and anyone could see that he only cared about joining Voldemort in the future. He did not care about anyone but himself and like all the other Slytherins, he used other people as weapons. The detention he and Ron received at dinner could attest to that.
On their way into the Great Hall, Harry had bumped into Malfoy and after a rather colourful exchange of words and murderous expressions, they had almost abandoned their wands, in favour of delivering sharp blows to each other. Before the first punch could be landed, however, Professor Snape had come around the corner and assigned both Harry and Ron detention, even though it was obvious that Draco and his cronies had the upper hand in the situation. Harry grumbled to himself at the memory. Goyle had grabbed hold of the back of his robes, and Crabbe had his fist pulled back, ready to attack him and yet, somehow he and Ron were the only ones punished. Harry shook his head. Yea, He definitely did not understand Hermione's attitude about the incident. She was supposed to be on his and Ron's side!
He had done nothing wrong. He and Ron were practically salivating after a particularly annoying Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Umbridge and were ready to do nothing more than shove their faces into the serving dishes and eat until they passed out, full and content. He would have loved to enter the Hall to do just that without all of the drama that had occurred. It wasn't his fault that he and Ron had bet a sickle on who would get to the table first. And it definitely wasn't his fault that just as he had started to sprint into the Hall, Draco had come sauntering out with his two idiot friends.
Well, Harry considered, maybe he was partially to blame. But he definitely hadn't started the fisticuffs.
Whatever the case, he and Ron had earned a detention and they ate dinner with a little less voracity than originally planned.
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After the trio made it to the tower, Harry hurried across the common room and up the steps. He had an occlumency lesson in tem minutes and he would have to leave early if he wanted to make it to the dungeons on time. He had decided a few lessons ago that he would start wearing his invisibility cloak to the dungeons. This allowed him to avoid Umbridge, who always seemed to turn up somewhere along the way to the dungeons. She would ask him question after question about where he was going, what he was doing and would throw in pointed reminders that participating, or being the leader of any unregistered club was strictly forbidden and grounds for explusion. This always made Harry late for the lesson and would cause Snape to be even harsher with him. So to avoid all of that, Harry left a little early every day and walked slowly to the dungeons in his cloak. Even with his relatives nearly starving him, he was still a little tall for the cloak and had to walk slowly so his shoes didn't stick out from under it. The last thing he needed was for Umbridge or a pack of nasty Slytherins to see him and hex him, then cover him with his own cloak. He'd probably get trampled in the race to breakfast that usually occurred every Saturday when students slept in and then remembered that if they didn't get to breakfast by a certain time they'd have to wait until lunch to fill their stomachs.
Yes, it was much simpler to take advantage of Dumbledore's gift. At that thought a wave of sadness hit Harry, followed by a strong urge to strangle the headmaster, to slaughter the old man. After a few seconds, the hatred and urge to kill completely left him, and with it, his energy. These bouts of murderous rage had been happening since the ending of fourth year and Harry really did not understand what was going on. But what he did know was that he needed to snap out of it and get himself to the dungeons.
Harry stuffed his cloak in his pocket, closed his trunk and headed for the door. He touched the door knob, only to have it open from the outside.
"Alright then, harry?" It was Neville. Harry smiled at the other boy and nodded. He'd sooner go and hug Umbridge then tell any of his friends about the weird bouts of rage. He also didn't want them to know that he walked the halls in his cloak because of Umbridge. Hermione would urge him to talk to Dumbledore about her abuse and Dumbeldore didn't really seem to be in a caring mood this school year. Harry preferred to leave him out of it.
Harry quickly walked out of the dorm room and down the steps. With a quick wave to Ron and a polite smile at Hermione's mouthed "good luck", he exited through the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once the portrait was completely closed, he looked to his right and left and upon seeing no one, slipped his cloak around him.
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Harry slowly made his way through the castle and down to the dungeons. Once he had reached the cold darkness of the dungeons, he slipped off his cloak and continued the rest of the way to Snape's office.
Once he reached the door, Harry checked his watch. Seven o' clock. His timing was perfect. He wasn't too early to be sneered at and wasn't too late to earn yet another detention, and so he knocked with confidence.
"Enter." Harry slid into the office and closed the door silently. He stood next to the door and after readying himself and hoping he'd somehow managed to raise some sort of mental defense, he looked at the potions master in expectation. It was for naught, as Snape was still seated behind his desk and looked to be grading potions essays. Harry resisted the urge huff. Here he was perfectly on time and Snape had the audacity to not be ready.
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After a few minutes, Snape had finished grading the last of the essays for his first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class. He would have made the boy wait even longer and started in on his N.E.W.T class' essays if he thought he'd be able to stand Potter's incessant fidgeting any longer.
Snape stood up and stretched his back. He was achy all over. He had stopped bothering with the Cruciatus brew he had come up with a long time ago. It no longer seemed to work for him. He figured if he stopped using it for a few months, his body would forget the tolerance it had built up to the potion, and he'd be able to take it again. Until then, he would soldier through the pain. He could stop spying of course. It was something he had considered briefly after being held under cruciatus for a full half an hour, but he had made a promise to himself and Dumbledore to protect the infernal child in front of him. Though he clearly did not like the boy, he had always been a man of his word and he would protect Potter until his last breath.
As he came around the desk, he saw Harry's indignant expression at having to wait so long for the lesson to begin. He sneered nastily at the boy. Honestly, who did Potter think he was? Snape was a Professor, an adult, a member of The Order and a spy for the side of the light. If he wanted to take an extra ten minutes to finish grading the terribly written essays of the first years, then he would. The Boy was so obviously spoiled by his relatives that he apparently couldn't conceive of adults having other things to do than serve him.
Potter really needed a lesson in humility. So without further ado…
"I trust you have readied your mind, Potter?" Snape asked, his face clearly showing doubt. The teenager opened his mouth, about to say something utterly stupid, no doubt. So Snape cast Legilimens on him before he could get a word out. Humility indeed.
Within seconds he found himself assaulted with memory after memory of the boy in compromising, embarrassing and frankly amusing situations. He was up in a tree getting growled at by a fat brown bulldog. He was standing in the middle of a small messy bedroom in under pants that were too big, being taken to task by his uncle for lazing about. He was being smacked around the head by his aunt for not completing a chore. Snape allowed a few more memories to overtake him before he forcefully broke the connection with Harry's mind.
He smirked when he saw him on the ground panting. When Harry raised hateful eyes to Snape's own eyes, Snape raised in eyebrow, daring him to protest. He had told the boy to clear his mind. He gave him three days between each lesson to practice. Was he to blame that Potter thought himself too good to learn occlumency? No, he decidedly was not. If the boy didn't want to learn to protect himself from The Dark Lord, then he would assault the boy over and over again until Potter faced reality.
"Get up, Potter." Snape growled. He couldn't believe he was still on the floor.
Harry glared at him.
Snape took that chance to legilimize him again.
Again Snape entered his mind and again Harry found himself on the floor after the spell ended.
"Get. Up. Potter." Snape hissed angrily. "The Dark Lord will not wait for you get up, he will attack!" he ended in a near shout. The boy was far too dramatic. He really couldn't understand what Albus saw in The Boy Who Lived. The pathetic, sweaty pale mess in front of him did not look like the savior of the wizarding world.
"Ready? Clear your mind…" Snape raised his wand again.
"Wait." Harry breathed heavily.
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"The Dark Lord will not wait Potter." Snape whispered icily.
Harry was emotionally exhausted. He wanted to stop. He wanted to turn away from Snape and his wand and go back up to his bed and sleep, The Dark Lord be damned.
He had been trying very hard to protect his more personal memories by shoving his more humiliating ones to the front for Snape to find easily. He did not know how he did it or if he was truly practicing occlumency in doing so, but he did know that Snape only saw what Harry wanted him to see. At least that's what Harry saw too when Snape ripped through his memories. If Snape saw any of those memories, he certainly didn't let on. Not that he'd care, thought Harry bitterly. In that moment, Harry really hated Snape. He always had in his own childish way. But what he was experiencing now was true hate. Something similar to what he had felt for Dumbledore earlier, but his hatred towards Dumbledore was unwarranted. This was fully deserved. Snape was a horrible teacher, a horrible person and Harry really couldn't even be sure that Snape was on their side. Between Snape and Umbridge, he'd be happy to see either hauled off by Centaurs or strung up by their toes in full Filch fashion.
Harry nearly smiled at the thought.
"Do you think the Dark Lord rummaging through your mind is funny, Potter?" Harry swallowed loudly, perhaps he actually had smiled. He gave Snape a hard look. He wasn't an idiot. No one in their right mind would welcome the dark wizard in their mind.
But Snape didn't understand what Harry was trying to do, and Harry wasn't about to share it. He would allow Snape to safely look through whatever Harry slung to the forefront of his mind. Hopefully if he kept thinking of things he wanted Snape to see, he would have no need to delve further and see the truly awful things Harry had experienced.
Snape stalked up to Harry. When he was about six inches from Harry's nose, he waited for Harry to look at him and shouted "legillimens!" at him. Harry staggered back in surprise, but was forced to keep his head up and staring into Snape's dark eyes. Because of his surprise, or the proximity of Snape's eyes from his or the sheer force of which Snape yelled the curse, or maybe a combination of the three, Harry was unable to maintain the hold he had on his more personal memories.
One by one, his deepest, most horrifying memories floated to the top of his conscious and right into Snape's mind.
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Snape froze at the beginnings of a new memory. Potter's mind seemed to only allow the same fifty or so memories to come through their connection, and after several occlumency lessons, Snape assumed he had seen them all. Many were unpleasant, but none of them were considered important enough to worry about.
There had been a few of the boy in what looked like a cupboard, but he had only seen it a few times and never saw it again. He assumed it was a dream, maybe a childhood fear of sorts.
He had never expected pampered potter to be anything but spoiled, but as the first memory hit him, his entire world turned upside down.
Harry had been about 8. He was at a small, rather pristine looking sink, washing dishes. He was short for his age and so he stood on a step stool.
A round blonde boy came bounding into the kitchen just as Harry had grabbed the last glass from the sudsy water and loudly demanded a soda. Snape felt Harry's, irritation as he told the boy that the sodas were in the fridge and to get one himself.
Angry at being talked down to by 'the freak', Dudley opened his mouth and wailed at the top of his lungs.
"Mum! Harry's refrusin' to get me a soda!" The boy smiled evily at Harry and took a seat at the kitchen table.
Instead of correcting her son's entitled behavior and his awful mispronunciation of "refusing", Petunia snapped at Harry. "Get Dudley a soda, boy!"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and hopped off the stool. He walked to the fridge, peered in and stood up with a bit of a smirk. "There aren't anymore Aunt Petunia."
"Mum! Harry must have drunk them all!" Dudley whined.
Petunia, knowing that her nephew had done no such thing promptly turned to her nephew and gave him a dressing down for drinking the rest of the drinks. When Harry tried to protest and say that of course he hadn't drunken the sodas and that in fact, he'd never had one, he received a sharp slap to the face.
He looked at Petunia in surprise. It was the first time his aunt had laid her hands on him. He looked at Dudley. He too looked shocked.
Petunia looked stunned, herself. She did not want Dudley caught in a lie because that would mean that Dudley was worse than her nephew and she couldn't bare it. If Harry would have just said "Yes Aunt Petunia" and allowed her to yell at him, she wouldn't have lashed out at him like that. So really it was his own fault he was struck.
Snape felt the hurt and betrayal that Harry had felt that day. He knew, as he felt Harry come to the sad conclusion that something had changed that day. That getting yelled at or made to do chores was no longer the only form of punishment his relatives would dole out.
Snape had less than a second to think about the implications of that memory before he was assaulted again with another.
Harry was sitting in the front office at his primary school. He and two other students were being allowed to read a poem during the "Say no to drugs" assembly. Harry thought it odd that the headmaster had requested poems instead of something he actually could do, like drawing a poster, but shrugged when the secretary had announced his name over the loudspeaker as the third student picked to contribute to the assembly. Really, he was only picked because they felt sorry for him. Harry was a terrible student on account of the Dursleys getting angry if he did better than Dudley and even as an eight and a half year old, he knew that he was given a sympathy position. But still he smiled brightly when the headmaster came into the front office from his private office and motioned the three students in.
The headmaster had given each of the students a topic and Harry's had been drugs making you do bad things. At least that's what Harry understood of it. He figured he'd just write something short about a fake person doing drugs and then turning into a bad person. Maybe he'd incorporate some of his more colourful nightmares. He could include the handsom, but menacing looking man he sometimes saw in his dreams. He looked like the sort of guy that had started off nice but then turned bad. With a plan firmly in place, Harry walked away from the front office with his head held high. Snape could almost smell the pride coming off of the boy in waves. Pride he'd never see in the boy while at Hogwarts. Had he really thought the boy arrogant?
As Harry was returning to his teacher's classroom, he encountered Dudley in the hall. Dudley looked a little heavier than he did in the first memory, but they were still only eight. Based on Potter's small legs, it didn't seem Harry had gained nearly as much weight. Actually, he could have lost weight, Snape thought idly.
Dudley stalked up to Harry and pushed him hard. Harry hit the floor with an "oof". Snape could feel the mix of fear, determination and a hint of dejection, like Potter was resigned to getting bullied by his fat cousin.
Dudley lifted his pudgy little leg to kick Potter, when a teacher started down the hall toward the commotion.
"Oi! You Dursley, stop that this instant!" Dudley immediately put his foot down and smiled sweetly at the professor. Harry jumped up and gave the teacher his best "Please don't make a big deal out of this" look. The teacher, catching Harry's look, told Dudley that if she caught him assaulting another student, he would be severely punished, and then turned and walked down the hall with the threat hanging in the air.
Obviously not effected by the threat, Dudley got as close as he could to Harry and whispered "I'm gonna tell dad that you tricked the headteacher into letting you speak in front of the whole school and he's going to get you!" Harry didn't bother arguing back.
Snape almost blinked in surprise. Harry hadn't said a word. He did not bother defending himself and instead bowed his head in defeat.
By the time the memory had shifted and Snape had watched Harry be slung about by his great whale of an uncle for the incident at school, Snape's hands were burning to strangle the Muggle.
As he watched more memories of Harry's family starving and beating him, Snape found himself getting angrier and angrier. It was getting hard to maintain the connection between he and Potter through his anger and so he finally relinquished control.
He stared at Harry for what felt like a full minute. Neither one said a word.
Harry's face was red, his eyes raw from reliving memory after memory of abuse, fear and hatred from his relatives. Snape's face was unfathomable.
His hands were more pale than usual, and his lips were pressed tightly together, but other than that, Harry couldn't tell if the man was going to sneer at him or laugh.
It turns out that Snape did neither.
He instead walked behind his desk and gestured to the chairs for guests. "Sit down Potter."
Harry struggled to obey. He did not want to discuss his memories with Snape. He didn't even want Snape seeing those memories, and now the man would demand he talk about them. Well he wouldn't. If Snape was wondering what the hell was going on in the Dursley household, he would just have to fill in the blanks. It wouldn't be that hard to figure out. After that day in the kitchen, the Dursleys started to regularly abuse Harry. Dudley had started his first game of Harry Hunting a few short days after the incident and not even a week after that, Vernon had locked Harry in his cupboard for a full week for saying he was too tired to clean the bathroom that he and Dudley shared.
After receiving a swift kick to the stomach for not getting up when called not too long after that, Harry had learned to shut his mouth and do as he was told. He had learned early on not to argue with Vernon. Even though the man was extremely overweight and not that fast, he was strong and found it easier to throw his fists out towards Harry instead of verbally assaulting him down.
Petunia favored slapping him about the head and had even aimed a frying pan at his head on more than one occasion.
Harry did not lead a happy life at the Dursleys and now Snape knew. Snape had not seen it all, for there was too much to see. But he had seen a lot.
Harry swallowed and looked Snape directly in his eyes. He was confident that after that onslaught of memories, Snape would not want to legilimize him again.
"So Potter, it seems things are not what the seem" Snape stated flatly. Harry arched an eyebrow as if saying "No kidding".
Snape crossed his arms and sat back. "Fair enough" he stated. He eyed Potter a little bit longer before getting up suddenly and grabbing a stack of blank parchment from the cabinet behind him.
He handed the stack to Harry and waved his hand at the quills on his desk, indicating that he wanted Harry to choose one.
Harry grabbed a peacock feather quill and eyed it shrewdly. This pen definitely did not fit Snape.
"It was a gift from the headmaster" Snape allowed to come out, feeling generous.
After Harry had grabbed the quill and dipped it in ink, he touched quill nib to parchment, then looked at Snape and scrunched up his face in question. "What am I supposed to write, he asked numbly".
Snape, surprised that Harry had obeyed so easily simply looked at him.
Harry resisted the urge to scoot his chair back a was looking at him like he was a potion ingredient fit for dissecting.
"Everything." Snape stated evenly.
"I want you to write everything from the first time you can remember until just before you came to Hogwarts this year. I want it all, anything involving the Dursleys, that is."
This bothered Harry a little, but he shrugged. He shouldn't be trying to protect the family that had hurt him for so long. But first—"Can you make me a promise?" Harry's breaths came a little faster than normal. Was he really asking the evil, slimy bat of the dungeons what he was about to ask him? Perhaps he should ask Madame Pomfrey to schedule a meeting with a mindhealer for him. He was obviously losing it.
"I will do no such thing." Snape stated snidely. Harry simply stared. There was no way he'd be able to write about the stuff he endured in his relatives' house without being promised he never had to go back.
"I'm afraid, Professor, that I cannot write what you asked without being promised something in return." Harry winced. That came out a little more demanding then he wanted it. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew the headmaster made him go there every year, even though he didn't know why. If Snape wanted to know every thing about his home life, then Snape was going to have to help him find other living arrangements.
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Snape sighed heavily, looking as tired as he deared to look in the company of students. "What, Potter?" He said sharply. His mask fell a little further. He really was trying to be patient with the boy, but Potter wouldn't cooperate. He had simply told him to write. Why was his quill still hovering above the paper dripping ink messily onto the parchment, and not furiously writing away?
Harry dipped his head and stated clearly "I do not want to go back." The boy took a deep breath. "If I write what I am about to write, I am not going back. You have to promise, Snape."
Snape was shell-shocked. Where on earth had the teen gotten the idea that he'd have to go back to such abuse? More importantly, since when did Snape allow students to speak to him any old way? Honestly, would it have killed the boy to have said 'Professor'?
"Professor or sir" Snape commented stiffly. His heart wasn't in it. The boy was obviously worried.
"Why would you go back to your abusive muggle relatives?" Snape sneered as he said Muggle. Harry visibly winced.
"Professor Dumbledore makes me go back every year." Harry had a rough edge to his voice. He sounded angry.
"Yes well the professor doesn't know the extent of the abuse, but he will soon if you would close your mouth and write."
The boy glared at him, but Snape grabbed his own quill and a N.E.W.T essay so the boy wouldn't bother questioning him again.
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Harry glared at Snape, but decided to write anyway. Really, what else could he do? Snape had told him he wouldn't go back to the Dursleys as if it should have been obvious. Maybe he did have the power to convince Dumbledore that Harry should go to The Burrow each summer.
Once again he touched quill to parchment, but paused. He felt uncomfortable. He glanced up at Snape, who had stopped grading and was watching him intently. "Yes?" Snape questioned, the sneer back in his voice.
"I don't want to write this here with you over my shoulder." Harry stated as respectfully as he could.
Snaped looked almost like he would consider Harry's wishes, but in the end said "Tough. I didn't ask for your opinion Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes and got started.
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As soon as the teen had finished, Snape whipped the paper out of his hands and ignoring Harry's protests, marched him to the headmaster's office. After getting to the headmaster's door, he remembered Umbridge's presence in the castle and vowed to be more vigilant on his way back down from the headmaster's office, if he had Potter in tow.
Before he could knock, the headmaster called them in. "Severus, Harry, do come in".