He had made it through dinner somehow, watching Snape like a hawk and not even able to talk to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Snape had shown no sign of remembering the bottle, and Harry hoped that by some miracle he wouldn't. He hadn't had the courage to just take it and try to hide it, for if Snape had discovered it gone, Harry would be the first to get his full fledged wrath. Instead, Harry had decided to nick just a few strands for now, but he'd not had the time to screen them. He could hardly wait until nightfall, so he could sneak to the Pensieve with the butterbeer bottle and hope that what he had found was important. But half of him still wanted to go down to the ballroom and see if the entire bottle indeed remained.

It was wrong, and dishonest, and probably dangerous, but Harry didn't care. There had to be something in there so important that Harry just couldn't wait until he was sure everyone was asleep.

It had been murder, keeping it away from Ron and Hermione, and Ginny too, but he could just hear Hermione's motherly tone while she tried to talk sense into him. ('You leave that bottle right there in that ballroom, Harry- you have no right looking into things he obviously wants kept secret!') He could just hear it…

So he decided to go at it alone.

It was well past midnight when he poked his head out the bedroom door, and saw that all the rooms were closed up and down the hall. That meant (perhaps) that everyone was in bed. He tiptoed down the hall, then made a straight shot to the Potions room.

The Pensive was there as always, but the key was not on the mantle. He frowned. It didn't matter anyway- the only memories he wanted to see tonight were in his hands. His heart began to race as he poured the strands into the liquid, as if he knew inside that he was about to find out something important, something he just had to know.

The memories spilled in, and Harry leaned over and felt himself falling.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

He was there on the floor of some dark house, and Severus Snape leaned over him, his eyes wild with rage, with a dark shadow of a beard and a horrible scar across his face.

Harry frowned. That wasn't right.

He looked to the movement at his side and saw a young boy, barely five or six, cowered on his back, trying to move away from the looming figure, but blocked by the wall. His black hair hung limply in his eyes, and he was letting out terrified whimpers, quite like a frightnened dog.

Harry suddenly put two and two together.

Even though Snape and Evie shared the same pale skin and dark hair, Snape had obviously gotten those cold, black eyes and that stony face from his Muggle father.

Harry jolted as a strap of some sort lashed out and struck the boy with a cracking slap. The boy screamed, and Harry scuttled away as the strap fell again.

"You'll talk back to me, will you?" the man was saying, and his voice had an evil, but familiar, taunting quality to it. He gave the young Snape another lash. "You'll tell me to stop hitting your mother?" He hit him again, and Harry swore he felt the sting. "Well, boy, before you go saving others, you better make sure you can handle it yourself."

Harry's eyes shot to a mound of clothes, and saw with a sick twist of his stomach that it was a woman, unconscious and bleeding from her mouth. He looked back to the man, and saw that he now had picked Snape up and was holding him by the neck, his hand large enough to encircle it. The boy was crying out, louder now, sobbing uncontrollably, open gashes across his face and thin, frail body.

"You're weak, boy- you know that? You're weak- you shouldn't carry on like that! A real man doesn't cry and shake and beg and plead! You should've been a girl, I guess! Crying and whining and carrying on! You're weak! And no son of mine is going to be weak! Shut it!"

But the boy couldn't, and the father gave him a good hard shake. "I SAID SHUT IT! OR I'LL MAKE YOU!" He drew back a fist, and Harry shut his eyes as it made contact, sending the boy's head to the side as if it might spin off.

This was enough. He didn't want to see anymore. He concentrated on pulling himself out, but panicked as he saw that he couldn't.

The cries had died, and the memory was spinning away, and Harry suddenly found himself looking down on the same woman he'd seen before, only now she was lying at an odd angle, her clothes torn off in places, and her eyes bulged vacantly.

He stumbled back, and felt something move through him like smoke. He saw that he had backed into a young Snape, and gone right through.

Snape's eyes were clamped shut, and tears were running down his face, but he wasn't uttering a sound. Harry saw that the father had him by the neck, holding him over the body.

"LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT HER, SEVERUS! LOOK WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE WEAK!"

Harry swallowed bile that had started to rise in his throat, and shut his eyes. He didn't want to see this, and instantly wished for once he'd listened to Hermione's voice, even if it had been in his head.

"YOU DID THIS! IF SHE HADN'T TRIED TO PROTECT YOU, SHE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE! I WOULDN'T HAVE KILLED HER! BUT SHE WAS WEAK! SHE TRIED TO PROTECT YOU, AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED! DO YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE WEAK?"

It seemed to go on and on, and Harry finally put his hands over his ears, and hoped that this hell would soon spin away.

It did, and he straightened.

It was a gorgeous house, almost as elegant as the Manor, with mounted heads of Unicorns and dragons and a hundred other magical creatures on the wall that Harry didn't even recognize. There was a group of adults at a table in the dining room, and in the parlor sat two children, a boy and a girl, both dark-haired and fair-skinned. They were playing chess.

"I knew you were going to do that," the girl said as a knight shattered her pawn.

The boy made a face at her. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. I'm better at it than you are. I know what you're thinking right now."

"What then?"

"You think Miss Cornwell, the lady that does Daddy's tailoring, is lovely."

The boy straightened defensively. "I do not."

"Yes, you do. You want to kiss her."

"Shut it, Evie, I do not!"

Harry felt a shot of excitement. How stupid of him to have been confused- this was Evie, and Snape too, only a few years older. Harry hadn't recognized him, because he seemed to have put on some weight and had matured a bit.

Footsteps came from the dining room, and a thick man who instantly reminded Harry of Evie when she was angry came stalking in. He raised a finger and pointed it at Snape. "I told you, you little bastard, keep your voice down. I've got guests. And Evelyn, pick yourself up off the floor and go play with the Lorelei and Morgan. They're upstairs, and you're down here with… with him." His voice was a harsh Irish tone, and Harry could see where Evie had gotten her flaring temper.

"But it's not fair! He's all by himself!"

"Don't you cheek me, girl. He's got his job to do. Now run along."

Evie had lowered her chin, and Harry saw she remarkably had not changed in that many years. "He's not your house-elf, Daddy!"

The man Harry now knew to be Balthazar Prince narrowed his eyes and took a step towards his young daughter, and Snape was silent, staring at the chess board.

"You listen to me, you little snapper. I told you to get upstairs and play with your guests! No daughter of mine is going to talk to me like that..."

"Only if Severus gets to come, too!"

Prince lifted his chin. "I told you, he has work to do..."

"What? He gets to clean up after everyone and listen to them make fun of him? Even the house-elf gets treated better than Severus, and he's your own flesh and blood!"

"HE'S NO BLOOD OF MINE!" Balthazar Prince had hauled her up and practically thrown her to the arched doorway that led to a monstrous foyer housing twin curved staircases. She regained her balance, and Harry saw that many of the adults at the table were looking on, smiles on their faces. "GET UPSTAIRS!"

She rushed at him, her small arms pushing him back. "NO!"

And, to Harry's horror, Balthazar Prince pulled a wand and shot the young girl with something that sent her sprawling across the room, landing in a heap against the far wall.

The young Severus Snape was suddenly on him, screaming curses and his fists flying. But Balthazar Prince was not a small man, and he struck Severus through the face and then fired a curse that sent a gash open across his chest. He fell and lay on his back, looking up in shock.

Harry recognized the curse immediately.

Sectumsempra.

One of the adults let out a whoop of laughter, and Harry frowned at them. Who were these people, to think what they were witnessing was funny?

Balthazar Prince was laughing, too, now, and Harry watched him take a sweeping bow to the others. They applauded as if they were watching a duel, and some lifted their goblets. But all laughter died as Balthazar Prince was suddenly knocked to his face in the floor, as some force hit him from behind.

He flopped onto his back, and every head turned as young Evelyn Prince was staring down at her father, her small face pouted in sheer hatred. She walked right back to Snape and took his hand. "Come on, Severus."

Prince rushed to his feet and put a hand on Snape's head, shoving him to the floor before he could rise. "Evie, I'm warning you…"

She suddenly grabbed his wand from his hand, and shoved it at his chest. He fell back a few steps, and the adults at the table roared with laughter.

"She's cheeky, that one!" a dark-haired man chuckled.

"Remember to bow, Balthazar," a woman offered, and more ripples of laughter shook them.

But suddenly Balthazar Prince had lost all showmanship. He was looking at his daughter oddly, and she was staring right back, her eyes still hard and determined. It seemed that their eyes stayed locked for some time, then he looked away.

He stepped back, giving Snape a nudge with his foot. "Take him. He ruins the scenery anyway."

Snape seemed unwilling to move, and Evie helped him to his feet. They walked away, into the foyer, and Harry watched as everything melted away.

He was suddenly in the dark, and sitting on a bed in a room that was so tiny it was practically a broom closet.

He jolted. That couldn't be right. He looked around, and suddenly felt queasy. He was- he was in a broom closet, sitting on a lumpy bed and in the dark.

Dear God, surely all this… all these last seven years, surely they hadn't been a dream…

But it made sense- he'd gone mad, and he'd dreamed he'd been taken away from all this, from Number 4 Privet Drive, but here he was after all, no change, none at all, just..."

He let out a cry of surprise as something moved to his left, and He squinted to see Snape, now in his early teens, sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Harry then heard a commotion outside the door.

"STOP IT! DADDY, STOP IT! I SNUCK HIM DOWN FOR IT! DON'T BOTHER HIM! HE'S SLEEPING!"

"YOU GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU LITTLE..."

There was a short cry, and suddenly Snape was on his feet, against the wall and holding his wand behind his back.

The door opened, and light pierced the darkness so shockingly bright that Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes. As they adjusted, he saw that the room was indeed smaller than he had originally thought.

"Get out of there, you filth!" Balthazar Prince was hauling Snape into the hallway, and Harry followed.

Evie, now perhaps eleven or twelve, was against the wall, grotesquely contorted into some frozen pose as she was held by some spell. She was watching it all, though, and her eyes shone with terror.

Balthazar was holding Snape over a box of something, and Harry saw that it was an empty bread basket. "DID YOU STEAL FOOD FROM MY KITCHEN?"

Snape's eyes were closed, and he was breathing in blasts from his nostrils. He didn't answer.

Prince shoved his face into the floor, and Harry saw that Snape's wand was clutched so tightly that he feared hearing it snap. "DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!"

Snape was still quiet, and Harry watched as Prince flipped him over and kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over in pain.

But Snape didn't make a sound.

"OUT WITH IT! OUT WITH IT! YOU STEAL FOOD, YOU GIVE IT BACK!" He was kicking the boy repeatedly, his face growing redder and redder and a vein throbbing in his forehead. He pointed his wand at Snape, who immediately began to gag, and Prince kicked him more. Harry turned away before he fell sick himself.

He didn't want to see anymore, but he didn't know how to pull himself out.

But someone did it for him.

He fell back a few steps, and looked up in sheer horror.

The dark form was facing into the Pensieve, and Harry suddenly thought that this would be the end of his existence, that this would be the last day Harry Potter would walk the earth as a whole being, killed not by Lord Voldemort but by the man standing in front of him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry swallowed, his chest so tight he could barely speak despite Snape's gentle tone. "I… I only wanted to see… what you knew about… about Dumbledore…"

"But you saw something quite different, didn't you?"

Harry shifted very uncomfortably. "Yes."

Severus Snape turned to him, his eyes as cold and black as ever. Harry wondered if he should run and call for help, or wield his wand. Either way, he was sure he wouldn't get far.

"Where is the bottle, Potter?"

Snape's voice was as soft as cotton, but Harry knew he was struggling to hold back. His lips were a straight line, and his eyes were black and cold.

"I…I don't know, sir."

Snape was suddenly so close Harry could see each and every eyelash. He tried to move back, but the table was blocking him.

"Rest assured, Potter, that I could very easily find out and bring it to the attention of this entire house what an arrogant little bastard you truly are. But if you tell me the truth, I will refrain from blasting you into a few million particles."

Harry felt raw anger burn through him, and suddenly lost all fear. "I told you, I don't have it."

Snape straightened, and Harry's stomach flopped as he watched the man take out his wand. "Very well."

Harry pulled his own. "You just try. I told you what I know. I took these earlier. I left the bottle downstairs. Try your Veritaserum if you don't believe me."

Snape frowned at him, pausing a moment. "You took only these in the Pensieve?"

Harry nodded, his wand pointed at him. "I was going down later to see if it was still there, to see if you had remembered, but..."

"I remembered well before dinner, Potter, I just let you believe I didn't so I could catch you in the act. You were so blatantly obvious, watching me like a hawk. But I know it is gone, and I know that you were the last person alone with it. Now tell me where it is."

Harry lowered his wand a hair. "How long has it been gone?"

Snape did the same, looking the slightest bit confused. "I went back shortly after I left the ballroom, and it wasn't there. You had taken it."

Harry's wand dropped more. "Maybe… maybe the house elves thought it was… maybe they thought it was something… we should ask Tilly…."

But Snape's eyes had taken on a new hardness, like a horrid realization, and he suddenly turned back to the Pensieve, drawing the strands out. He was halfway to the door, the strands flowing from his wand, before he spoke. "Get back to bed, Potter."

Harry followed him. "But who..?."

Snape was once again mere inches away, this time more assured in his threat. "Back… to… bed."

Harry swallowed, then gave a nod. He watched Snape move fluidly down the hall until he was out of sight and looked back at the Pensieve.

If he didn't have it, and Snape didn't have it, then who did?

And what he had seen, what had happened in that Pensieve, it was going to stay with him for a long time. Here was Snape, who had lost his mother to some horrible evil; perhaps not the same evil that had claimed Harry's parents, but an evil nonetheless. He had then gone to live with his cousin, who was given everything while he did without, locked in nothing less than a broom closet. He'd had Evie, and she had been tortured herself for protecting him, but the fact remained that Snape had been very much abused and treated like a servant for most of his life, by the very people who had taken him in.

Very, very much like Harry had been for his entire life at Number Four Privet Drive.

Harry disliked Snape; there was no doubt about it. He wanted in no way to be compared to him, and in no way to think that he and Snape had anything at all in common.

But maybe Quinn wasn't the only person in this house who understood him, after all.

The air was so thick with joy the next day that Harry found it quite sickening.

Hermione, Ginny, and Tonks spent all morning cooing at the house-elves, and the members of the Order could be heard laughing at joke after joke in the dining room as they were supposed to be talking 'business'. Quinn was with them, thoroughly enjoying himself, but Snape had elected not to come down to breakfast. Harry wanted to be concerned, but the air of the place wouldn't allow it. So he and Ron were sitting in the parlor, writing on the Shocker Stationary.

"RONALD WEASLEY IS A GIT!"

"HARRY POTTER SMELLS LIKE TOADSTOOLS!"

"I SAW HERMIONE SNEAK INTO YOUR ROOM LAST NIGHT!"

"AT LEAST I HAD A GIRL WITH ME!"

They snickered, and hid the quills quickly as they heard Molly Weasley, who had joined the Order at the Manor, hurrying into the room. She narrowed her eyes. "Did you two scream? Were calling for me?"

Harry shook his head, battling a smile, and Ron swallowed hard. "No. What's wrong with you? All paranoid?"

Molly tilted her head in confusion, walking back to the dining room.

Harry and Ron burst into fits of laughter.

Another person missing was Neville, who had been up and absent since before Harry had woken up this morning. It had been a long night, and Harry was sure that he should have been worried about what he had seen in the Pensieve, but for the life of him couldn't concentrate on it. All he knew was he woke up thinking how much Snape was like him, and that he was glad to be alive and so happy, with all the beautiful sunshine outside.

When he had asked about Neville, Lupin had simply said that Evie had taken him for a walk. And it was left at that.

Sirius was especially happy this morning, and spent most of the time barking with laughter about some story that Mad-Eye Moody was going on about, and it was then that Harry was positive that a charm was in effect.

It was lunchtime when Evie did reappear, wrapped up in a coat and boots with Neville at her side. Their cheeks were red and their eyes tearful, and Harry knew it wasn't just from the cold. He stood, approaching Neville slowly. "Um, hi, Neville," he said, smiling sympathetically. "I didn't get to speak to you yesterday."

Neville nodded, his lips forming a smile but the rest of his face not responding. "That's okay. I needed some sleep."

Evie rubbed his back, then moved through the foyer, shrugging out of her long coat, exposing black pants and a bright red sweater that seemed to radiate the mood of the place. "Lunch will be ready soon. Why don't you go wash up, Neville? That greenhouse dirt seems to stick."

Neville smiled at her, and nodded. She disappeared into the dining room and Harry looked at the other boy.

His eyes were lingering at the door where Evie had gone, and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, there was a smile on his face.

"She's quite nice," Harry said, a little uncomfortably.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, yeah, she is." He swallowed, and Harry fell into step next to him as they climbed the stairs.

He cleared his throat. "Um, Neville… are you alright? I mean, I know it must be hard, dealing with all this..."

"I'm alright, Harry," Neville said, staring at the floor as they walked. "I really am, I promise. It's happening everywhere, you know- they don't even know if we'll be able to have a funeral. Any place they think someone is meeting against V- You–Know-Who, they attack. Where better than a funeral for a member of the Order?"

Harry looked disgusted. "I'm so sorry, Neville, I really am. Are you sure you're alright? Is there anything I can do?"

Neville met his eyes, and another smile seemed to stretch his face. "It's all going to be alright, Harry. I know it is. Evie said so. She explained so many things to me today, things that could change everything we know. Don't worry, Harry. I know everything is going to be just fine."

Harry's steps slowed, and he watched as Neville walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Neville's words meant something to him, and he wondered why Neville could know things that no one in this house would talk about.

Evie eased into his room, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Severus."

He was looking out of the window, his brow furrowed and his eyes pained.

"What has happened? Is this about the bottle?"

He shook his head. "No."

She walked to him. "It's troubling you, whatever it is. I could feel it all the way downstairs." He didn't speak, and she sat down beside him. "Tell me what it is, Severus. Do you fear what was inside those memories?"

He looked at her for a long time, then shook his head again. She cleared his hair away from his face. "What then? What has burdened you so?"

He swallowed. "I… I can't explain what… It was so real…" He looked back out the window. "It was as if I was there, with him…"

Evie had suddenly pulled away. She was watching him intently.

"I… it's foolish, to dwell on it like this… I know it is, but… you don't understand…"

Evie lifted her chin, looking at him with her eyes wide. "You've had a dream."

He straightened, and she blinked, a realization creeping into her face. He looked at her, and his frown deepened. "What did you just say?"

She swallowed. "You've had a dream. Of Dumbledore. You two were walking there beside the lake, near a white tomb, and it was daylight."

He stood suddenly, and backed away from her a few steps. "How do you know this?"

She rose from her seat, her voice becoming more and more excited. "He spoke to you. He told you about Godric Gryffindor. He told you why you are here."

Severus was against the wall, looking like he may very well pull his wand if she didn't stop. "Evelyn, you must tell me how you know this."

She was in front of him, her hands taking his. "He asked you to do something, Severus. He asked you to do something for him. Tell me what it was."

He shook his head. "How do you know this?"

"Tell me what he said, Severus."

He stared at her for the longest time, then swallowed. "Why should I reveal what you already know?"

She let out a blast of air, and her eyes teared. She looked at the window, and after a few breaths closed her eyes. "The painting."

He frowned. "What painting?"

But she was already tearing out of the room, Severus on her heels. They rushed to the west wing, coming to a large set of double doors. She pushed through, and they were greeted by a circle of perched phoenixes. Evie rushed to the curtains and pulled them open.

Severus squinted against the light, then heard a cough behind him. He turned.

The painting was shielding its eyes, also, and Severus straightened as it looked down on him.

"Ah, Severus," it spoke, "it's so nice to see that you are well. And Evelyn, my dear, might I add these birds are beginning to stink?"