Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen - Snape's Worst Memory

Harry flexed his hand, testing the durability of the bandage that had been wrapped around it. The murtlap essence had performed its role admirably, and he no longer felt a stinging pain from the cuts he had been forced to inflict on himself.

He was grateful that he was no longer in Umbridge's clutches. He even appreciated the first-aid he received. But as he watched Snape stand over the stone basin, removing gossamer strands of memory from his mind, Harry couldn't help but feel that he had exchanged one punishment for another.

"You weren't joking when you said we were going to practice?" he said hopefully.

"In the entire time you've known me, have I ever told a joke?"

"Well, there was the time you kept removing points from Gryffindor whenever you were mad at me…"

Snape made no reply. Turning away from the basin, he looked passively at Harry and said, "Wand at the ready, Potter."

Harry sighed. His mind was still swimming from what happened in Umbridge's office. Surely Snape didn't expect him to perform Occlumency under these conditions? At the same time, he knew it would be pointless to object. Snape would merely tell him that Voldemort would never wait for him to be ready for an attack. And so, resigning himself to whatever flood of memories would come, he gripped his wand in his uninjured left hand and waited.

When Snape's spell hit him, the effect was instantaneous. Rather than a colorful stream of his childhood memories, Harry immediately fell into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He was speeding toward the plain black door. It flew open this time, leading him straight into the circular room lined with identical doors. He crossed it, placed his hand on the door directly opposite the one from which he entered, and it swung inward…

He was in a long, rectangular room filled with an odd, mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls, but he did not linger to investigate. This was not the room he was searching for…

Through another door at the far end of the room, he passed into a dim hall, as high and wide as a church. It was full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, spun-glass spheres. Though most were covered in an inch of thick, brown dust, he could see that they seemed to glow with their own faint, silvery-blue light. His heart began to beat fast with excitement. This was it! His footsteps made no sound as they carried him automatically forward, racing past the shelves. He was searching for something… Something he wanted was in this room…

"POTTER!"

He was on the floor again. This time he was laying flat on his back, and his scar was burning so painfully, he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. But more than the pain, he felt a crushing disappointment. He had been so close that time…

Reality soon came rushing back as he saw Snape looming over him. He was not bothering to hide his anger as he seethed, "What is the point of teaching you if you never bother to learn! I might as well hand you over to the Dark Lord now, and spare us all the grief of trying to help you!"

Harry laid his head back onto the cool stone floor and closed his eyes. For a moment, he wished he was back in the Department of Mysteries, rather than in Snape's office, listening to his lecture.

"I didn't mean to…"

"That is precisely my point! These visions you're having are not your own! The Dark Lord is clever, Potter. Far more clever than you. He will use these dreams against you and then…"

The door to Snape's office banged open, startling them both. Draco sped through the opening, obviously in a hurry. He paused, however, upon seeing Harry laying on the floor with Snape standing over him, wand in hand.

"Professor Snape, I… Oh, sorry…"

"It's alright, Draco," Snape said, hastily hiding his wand within the folds of his robes, "Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions, but it seems the strain of exerting his meager mental abilities was too much for him. He's had a little fainting spell."

Draco stared at Harry, his doubt for Snape's explanation written clearly on his face. Harry saw his gaze dart briefly to his scar, as if he guessed what had really happened, though he had no way of knowing about Harry's Occlumency lessons.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Snape continued, "What brings you here in such a hurry?"

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir," said Draco promptly, "She asked me to bring you to her office."

To Snape's credit, he didn't even flinch. He never glanced at Harry, who was climbing to his feet, but he could guess what the Potions Master was thinking. Perhaps his memory charm had not worked, after all, and he was being summoned only to be sacked or worse.

If he was worried about the pending confrontation, he didn't betray it. Calmly, he said to Harry, "We will continue this lesson tomorrow, Potter."

Draco lingered a moment longer after Snape left the room. He was watching Harry, who was silently counting himself lucky to have gotten off with little more than a lecture.

"Harry, are you really taking Remedial Potions, or…"

"Mind your business, Draco," Harry told him, though his voice carried no malice. In reality, he didn't care who knew about his Occlumency lessons, but he had been warned enough times not to mention them to anyone.

He could feel Draco's gaze linger a moment longer, and Harry began to fear that he would pursue the topic. To his relief, Draco merely followed Snape into the hall and out of sight. Not wishing to fall into step with him and invite further conversation, Harry remained alone in Snape's office.

He slowly unwrapped his hand, wrinkling his nose as the sharp, acrid stench of the murtlap wafted upward. He was pleased to find the substance had done more than simply soothe his pain. In the short time since Snape first applied the bandage, it had completely healed the cuts on the back of his hand. Not even a scar remained. Delighted with these results, Harry took a step toward Snape's desk, searching for a rag or something he could use to wipe away the excess murtlap.

That was when he saw it. Sitting upon Snape's desk was the stone basin, forgotten in Snape's haste to attend Umbridge's summons. Inside, the silver-white threads of his most secret thoughts swirled in tantalizing circles, neither liquid nor gas. Harry guessed they were memories. The light they gave off reminded him of a patronus, and there would be no reason for Snape to perform this ritual at the start of every lesson if there were not some memories he was trying to hide. He gazed into the basin, a powerful curiosity welling within him.

Perhaps it contained the memories Snape had of his meetings with Voldemort. This would make sense, as everyone was desperate to keep Harry away from such knowledge. Then the thought that it had something to do with the Department of Mysteries occurred to him. Snape had clearly recognized the room in Harry's latest vision. That was why he got so angry whenever Harry got closer to the truth… It was why he had stopped him tonight, when he'd reached the room with those glass orbs… Orbs that had had been filled with the same ghostly light as these memories…

Harry looked over his shoulder, listening intently. What had Umbridge wanted Snape for? How long would she keep him?

Harry was now standing directly over the basin. His wand had found its way into his hand. He hardly knew what he expected to happen, but with a deep breath, he prodded the contents with the end of his wand.

The silver vapor began to swirl. Faster and faster it spun, until it was no longer a cloudy mass, but smooth and transparent as glass. Harry seemed to be gazing through a circular window on the ceiling of a large room. But it was not the towering shelves, heavy with the glass spheres, that he saw below him. Instead, he was looking down into the Great Hall.

All at once, the floor of the office seemed to lurch beneath his feet, and Harry found himself tipping headfirst into the room below. He was so surprised, he didn't even scream as he tumbled through a cold blackness. Just as quickly as he'd fallen, he was still once more, standing on his feet in the middle of the Great Hall.

The four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller desks, each facing the dais where the staff table usually stood. At each desk sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. There was a tense silence throughout the room, broken only by the sound of scratching quills and the occasional cough.

Harry looked around, wondering how he got there and why no one had said anything about his sudden appearance, and then he saw him. At the desk right behind Harry sat a boy with lank, greasy hair. His hooked nose nearly skimmed his parchment as he wrote furiously in a small, cramped hand. Harry was staring at a teenage Snape.

Harry experimentally waved his hands directly under Snape's nose, and was stunned to see his own hand pass straight through Snape's face, as if he were a ghost. He shouted in surprise, but his voice sounded hollow and distant. Then he realized that this made perfect sense. This was Snape's memory. Harry wouldn't exist in this world for many more years.

Amused, Harry positioned himself behind the younger version of Snape, reading the heading at the top of his paper:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

Ordinary Wizarding Level

Snape's hand was still flying across the parchment, though he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbors. Harry might have been impressed, but it was no secret that Snape had always desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Seeing him work, Harry merely wondered why he had never been appointed.

"Five more minutes!" shouted a voice nearby. Harry turned to see the top of Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks only a few rows away. He had just walked by a boy with untidy black hair…

Harry moved so quickly that, had he been solid and not a mere phantom of the future, he would have toppled the desks standing between Snape and his father.

There was no mistaking James Potter at fifteen. It was like looking into a mirror. There were some minor differences, of course. His father's eyes were hazel, not green, and his nose was a bit longer. Naturally, there was no lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. But they had the same thin face, the same mouth, same eyebrows… His father's hair stuck up in the back, just as Harry's did, and he could tell that when he stood up, they would be within an inch of each other's height.

James yawned and rumpled his black hair, making it even messier than it had been before. Glancing briefly at Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at another boy sitting four seats behind him.

Harry's heart leaped when he recognized Sirius. The teenager who would one day become his godfather flashed a thumbs-up at James. He was lounging in his chair, tilting it back on two legs, as Harry had often seen him do in Grimmauld Place countless times. He was very good-looking, with dark hair that fell into his eyes with a casual elegance Harry could never hope to achieve. There was a girl sitting behind him who seemed to be eyeing him hopefully, but Sirius didn't notice. His attention had drifted two seats down from her, where a young Remus Lupin sat absorbed in his exam. He already wore a few scars on his face from his monthly transformations. Unlike James and Sirius, who had apparently done all they could with their exams, Remus was busy re-reading his answers, scratching his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly.

With a sinking feeling, Harry realized that if the three of them were there, then that meant Wormtail was somewhere nearby. Sure enough, Harry spotted a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. He looked anxious. He was chewing his fingernails, scuffing the ground with his toes, and stealing glances at his neighbor's papers. Anything but commit an answer of his own to parchment.

Harry felt a deep sense of hatred for the man this boy would become, but the teenager sitting nervously before him knew nothing of the betrayal he would one day inflict upon his closest friends. Powerless to do anything to change the past, Harry settled for hoping that Wormtail had failed this exam and turned away.

James had begun doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters L.E. with great care. Harry smiled. He could guess what the letters stood for, but was surprised to find his father was such a hopeless romantic.

"Quills down, please!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!"

Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed through the air and into Professor Flitwick's arms, knocking him backward and off his feet. Several people laughed, but a couple of the students seated near the front desks got up and took hold of the professor beneath his elbows.

"Thank you, thank you…" Professor Flitwick huffed when he was restored to his feet again, "Very well, everybody. You're free to go!"

Harry looked down at his father. He had hastily crossed out the L.E. he had been embellishing, jumped to his feet, and stuffed the quill and parchment into his bag. Harry looked around for Snape and spotted him a short distance away, moving between the desks toward the doors leading to the entrance hall. Snape was absorbed with his examination paper, no doubt reviewing the questions and wondering if he'd managed to include all of his knowledge.

Harry worried that he would move too far ahead. This was his memory, after all. If he drifted away, Harry would not be able to stay and observe his father. To his immense relief, however, Sirius soon joined James, and together with Remus and Wormtail, they followed Snape into the hall, separated from him by only a few chattering girls.

"Did you like question ten, Moony?" asked Sirius as they emerged into the entrance hall.

"Loved it," said Remus briskly. "Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question."

"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in a tone of mock concern.

"Think I did," said Remus, mirroring his serious tone, "One: He's sitting in my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin…"

James and Sirius both laughed, but Wormtail continued to look anxious.

"It got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes, and the tufted tail," he said, "but I couldn't think what else…"

"How thick are you, Wormtail?" James said impatiently, "You run 'round with a werewolf once a month…"

"Keep your voice down!" implored Remus.

They had reached a throng of students waiting to exit through the school's front doors. Harry looked around for Snape once more. He remained close by as James's group emerged onto the sunlit grounds, making their way toward the lake. Snape still seemed distracted by his exam questions, and was walking with no apparent destination in mind. Harry stayed close to his father, keeping one eye on Snape while he listened to the conversation taking place between the original Marauders.

"Well, I thought the paper was a piece of cake," Sirius said, "I'll be surprised if I don't get Outstanding on it at least."

"Me too," said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nicked it," said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away and seizing it again. Harry smiled to see further similarities between them. How often had he done the same with the practice Snitch Blaise had given him?

They had stopped in the shade of a beech tree at the edge of the lake. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw to his delight that Snape had settled himself in the grass nearby, partially obscured by the deep shadows cast by a clump of bushes. Harry flopping onto the ground by his father's side, content to stay with him for as long as Snape's memory would allow.

The afternoon sun sparkled off the smooth surface of the water. On the opposite bank, a group of girls had taken off their shoes and socks, cooling their feet in the lake. Harry could hear snatches of their laughter as it rippled toward them across the water.

Remus had taken out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at groups of other students milling over the grass, looking bored, haughty, and handsome. He reminded Harry of Blaise, who had sat under that very same tree with a similar attitude several times before. James had continued to play with the Snitch, letting it zoom farther and farther away, almost letting it escape before he snatched it again. Wormtail watched him, his mouth hanging open. Each time James made a particularly difficult catch, he would gasp and applaud.

After a few minutes of this, Harry wondered why his father didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself. Instead, he kept looking at the girls across the lake, rumpling his hair to make sure it didn't get too untidy.

"Put that away, will you? Sirius finally said as James made another fine catch, "Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement."

Wormtail blushed, but James grinned.

"If it bothers you," he said, putting the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that he would only have compiled for Sirius. Otherwise, he might have never stopped showing off.

"I'm bored," Sirius announced, "Wish it was full moon."

"You might," replied Remus from behind his book, "We've still got Transfiguration. If you're bored, you could test me… Here."

He held out his book toward Sirius, who merely snorted and said, "I don't need to look at that rubbish. I know it all."

Remus rolled his eyes and retreated behind his book once more. James, in the meantime, had been glazing around them.

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," he said with a sly air, "Look who it is…"

Sirius's head turned. He became very still, like a hound who had just scented a rabbit.

"Excellent," he said softly, "Snivellus."

With a feeling of foreboding, Harry's head swiveled in Snape's direction. He was on his feet again, stowing the exam paper in his bag. As he emerged from the shadows of the bushes and began making his way across the grass, James and Sirius stood up.

Remus and Wormtail remained seated. Remus steadfastly examined his book, but Harry saw a faint crease between his brows. His eyes were no longer moving across the page. Wormtail, on the other hand, was looking from Sirius to James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face.

"All right, Snivellus?" called James loudly.

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack. He dropped his bag and plunged his hand inside his robes. But this teenage Snape was not as quick to draw his wand as Harry had often seen his adult counterpart do. His wand was only halfway in the air when James shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand flew out of his hand and fell uselessly in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

"Impedimenta!" he cried, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a desperate dive toward his fallen wand. All around them, students had paused in their own activities to watch the scene unfold. Some looked apprehensive, while others looked on with mocking smiles. A few had risen to their feet, drawing closer as if to get a better view.

Snape remained on the ground, gasping with anger and from having the wind knocked out of him when he fell. Harry watched with growing horror as James and Sirius advanced on him, wands at the ready. James glanced over his shoulder again at the girls near the water's edge. Wormtail was on his feet now, an unpleasant, hungry expression on his face.

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" asked James.

"I was watching him," said Sirius viciously, "His nose was touching the parchment. There'll be great grease marks all over it. They won't be able to read a word!"

Several people laughed. Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail snickered as Snape tried to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him. His struggled in vain, as though he were bound by invisible ropes.

"You… wait…" he panted, staring up at James with an expression of the purest loathing, "You… wait…"

"Wait for what?" Sirius asked toyingly, "What're you going to do Snivelly? Wipe your nose on us?"

Snape uttered a stream of mixed swearwords and hexes, but his wand was still lying several feet away. Clearly, he had not practiced wandless magic as Harry had done.

"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly, "Scourgify!"

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth, covering his lips in froth and making him gag, choking him…

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

James and Sirius looked around. James's free hand jumped to his hair again. They were staring at one of the girls from the edge of the lake. She had left her shoes and socks by the water, and stood before them, barefoot and breathing heavily from racing over. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were a startling green, and eerily familiar.

"All right, Evans?" James said just as Harry felt a jolt of recognition. His father's voice sounded odd to him. It was suddenly deep, pleasant, and almost mature…

"Leave him alone," Lily Evans repeated. She was glaring back at James with every sign of revulsion. "What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included. Remus, still pretending to read his book, did not join them, and neither did Lily.

"You think you're funny," she said, "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

"I will if you go out with me, Evans," said James, and Harry thought he had never heard something more despicable in his life, "Go on… Go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

Behind him, the impediment jinx was wearing off. Snape began to inch toward his wand, spitting out soap suds as he crawled.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," said Lily.

"Bad luck, Prongs," said Sirius. Then, catching sight of Snape, he cried, "OY!"

Too late. Snape had directed his wand straight at James. There was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled around, and a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air. His robes fell over his head to reveal two skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter. Many of the students in their small crowd cheered. Lily, who continued to look on with a furious expression, instantly demanded, "Let him down!"

"Certainly," said James. He jerked his wand upward, and Snape fell into a crumpled heap. Disentangling himself from his robes, he scrambled to his feet, his wand up, but then Sirius said, "Locomotor mortis!" and Snape keeled over again, rigid as a board.

"Leave him alone!" Lily shouted for the fourth time, only now she had drawn her own wand. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

"Ah, Evans. Don't make me hex you," said James.

"Take the curse off him, then!"

James sighed, then turned to Snape and muttered the countercurse.

"There you go," he said as Snape struggled to his feet once more. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus."

Humiliated, Snape spat, "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Harry let out a hollow, echoing gasp. It went unnoticed by the group around them as they fell silent and stared at Lily. She eyed Snape with a distant expression. He seemed to realize his mistake, for his mouth fell open, as if to apologize, but then Lily blinked, seemed to regain her composure, and said, "Fine. I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologize to Evans!" James roared once Lily's words had broken through the silence that had held them all transfixed. He pointed his wand threateningly at Snape.

"I don't want you to make him apologize!" Lily shouted, rounding on James, her green eyes flashing, "You're as bad as he is!"

"What?" yelped James, as if he'd been slapped, "I'd never call you a… you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick. Showing off with that stupid Snitch. Walking down the corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can… I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick!"

Then she turned on her bare feet and raced away, leaving James, Snape, and the rest of them behind her.

"Evans!" James called after her, "Hey, Evans!"

She did not look back.

"What is with her?" asked James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question and of no real importance to him.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Sirius, as if his friend's terrible attempt at courtship delighted him.

"Right," said James. His expression changed from one of disappointed wonder back to anger. In a tone of indignation, he repeated, "Right…"

There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"

It was not a sight Harry cared to think about, much less see for himself. But he still might have preferred that to what happened next. A hand closed over his upper arm, so tight he cried out in both shock and pain. He turned his face to see who held him with such a vice-like grip, and saw Snape standing next to him, fully grown, and white with rage.

"Having fun?" he said in a terrifying voice.

Before Harry could respond, he felt himself rising into the air. The bright summer's day evaporated as he floated upward through an icy blackness. Still feeling Snape's tight grip on his bicep, Harry felt a strange swooping sensation, as though he had been turned head over heels in midair. His feet hit the stone floor of Snape's dungeon.

"So…" Snape said slowly, gripping Harry's arm so tight that his recently healed hand was growing numb. "So… You've been enjoying yourself at my expense, Potter?"

"No…" Harry said truthfully. While he had been delighted when he first recognized his father, what had followed only confused and horrified him.

Snape, with his lips quivering and his face white as a sheet, was not helping relieve his confusion.

"Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?" he said, abruptly pushing Harry away from him with all his might.

Harry staggered, catching himself before he fell to the floor.

"Professor, I didn't… I wasn't…"

"Out!" Snape bellowed, "Get out of here! And don't you dare repeat what you saw to anybody!"

"I would never…" Harry started to say, but Snape continued to shout at him.

"I said get out! I don't ever want to see you in this office again!"

Harry, frightened by his anger and still reeling from the memory he'd witnessed, turned toward the door. His hand was on the knob, ready to comply with Snape's demands, when something stopped him.

"No," he said, turning back toward Snape. The Potions Master had turned away from him, his hands gripping the sides of the stone basin, his shoulders slumped in an attitude of despair.

"No," Harry said again, removing his hand from the doorknob and taking a bold step toward Snape. "You need to explain that to me."

"Haven't you seen enough?" Snape growled dangerously, "What more is there for me to explain?"

"I don't understand how that… How could he be so… so awful?"

"You were under the impression that your father was some kind of hero?" Snape spat scornfully, "Are you disillusioned? Surprised to find that he was nothing more than a bully?"

Harry hated to admit it, but Snape was right. In his mind, he'd pictured his father as another Cedric Diggory, but with Harry's looks. Perhaps he was never Head Boy, but he had imagined his father as smart, popular, and a loyal friend. He had always thought Snape's hatred was nothing more than jealousy. Any accusations that James Potter was an arrogant menace he considered a projection of Snape's own insecurities. But what he had just witnessed was a boy who gloated in the attention of others, and who was willing to humiliate a rival who had done him no harm, merely for the entertainment of his equally unlikable friend…

"How could she do it?" Harry finally asked, "How could she marry him after… She hated him!"

Snape seemed too angry for words. His back was still facing Harry, but his shoulders were tense now, as if he were fighting the urge to scream at him again.

Faced with nothing but his silence, Harry felt his own rage building inside him. He was disappointed by who his father really was, angry with Sirius for telling him stories of his greatness, stories that he now considered nothing but lies. And he was furious with his mother for having married such a man.

"What was she thinking?" Harry said, "She can't have loved him… She couldn't! After all the things she said… But she still chose him! She must have been mad, or just as awful as…"

"No," Snape said quickly, unable to listen to Harry insult his own mother's memory, "No, Lily wasn't… It wasn't like that…"

Harry stared him in the eye and said, "So explain it to me."

Snape shook his head, but it wasn't a refusal. He spoke, but his voice was tight, as if the words were being forced from him against his will.

"James… He changed after that year. Something happened that… It doesn't matter now. But you're wrong to think that Lily fell in love with him just as he was. She had too much sense to marry James Potter… Not unless he changed… for the better…"

Harry could see how difficult it was for Snape to admit that his hated rival was capable of reform, particularly to that rival's own son. Harry remained silent for a moment after this confession, processing everything he had seen and what Snape had just told him. It seemed impossible that his father could make amends with Lily after what he just saw. There had to be more to the story. He wondered what Snape wasn't telling him. What happened after their fifth year to make his father change his ways?

"All this time…" Harry said softly, "All this time, I thought you hated him because my mother chose him over you. But I was wrong."

Snape sighed. All the anger and outrage seemed to leave him with that sigh, and with a look of resignation, he said, "I seem to remember telling you that your mother had too much sense… It was never a question of picking me over him or anyone else, for that matter. No… What you just saw was my worst memory, Harry. But it wasn't because of what your father did… It was what I said to her…"

His voice broke over these last words, and for a moment, Harry thought he was going to burst into tears. Instead, he turned back to the stone basin, prodded the contents with his own wand, and beckoned Harry forward.

After what he had seen the first time, Harry almost didn't want this second vision. But Snape was giving him permission now, and Harry's curiosity won out. He tentatively stepped forward. The glass-like surface looked down upon the hidden entrance to the Gryffindor common room. With the same tilting sensation as before, Harry dropped down into the scene, where the same scrawny teenage boy he'd witnessed in the last memory sat sullenly before the portrait of the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung forward, and Lily Evans stepped through the hidden door. Snape promptly scrambled to his feet, looking shame-faced.

"Mary told me you were out here," Lily said, crossing her arms over her dressing gown. "What do you want, Severus?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath. I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just…"

"Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends… You see? You don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

Snape opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking.

"I can't pretend anymore," continued Lily, "You've chosen your way. I've chosen mine."

"No… Listen, I didn't mean…"

"To call me a Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

He struggled to speak, but before the words to make things right would come, Lily turned away with a contemptuous look, and climbed back through the portrait hole…

This time Harry did not need to be dragged from the memory. It dissolved on its own, and he found himself once more standing on the stone floor of Snape's office, gazing at the professor with the pity his mother had exhausted all those years ago.

"You see?" Snape said, "Your mother would never have chosen me… I was too obsessed with the Dark Arts… With power… I refused to change, even after that… James Potter did what I couldn't do. He made himself into a better person for the woman he loved, while I selfishly, foolishly clung to my ways… Until it was too late…"

He sounded so heartbroken, Harry didn't think there was anything he could say. But a question was still burning in his mind. A piece to this puzzle that remained out of place.

"But why did he change?" Harry asked tentatively, "You said something happened after that…"

Snape seemed to be weighing his options. He had already shown Harry so much of his past, it seemed possible he would reveal all. Instead, a shadow passed over his expression, and he merely replied, "Ask Remus."

Without another word on the subject, he gently guided Harry toward his office door, adding in a more measured voice, "It's getting late. You don't want Umbridge catching you out of bed after hours. I don't know how many more detentions I will be able to save you from."

This reminded Harry of the reason he'd been left alone with Snape's memories to begin with, and with a note of anxiety he asked, "What did she want to see you for?"

"It seems Draco petitioned to join her Inquisitorial Squad," Snape replied without concern, "She wanted me to provide a reference for him."

Harry was both impressed and pleased that Draco had followed-through so quickly with his request. His feelings must have shown in his expression, for Snape promptly asked, "Did you put him up to this?"

He considered lying, but with Snape's skill at Legilimency, he knew that would be pointless. Besides, after everything Harry had just learned, he felt he owed him honesty.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I just… I thought it would be good to have someone to keep an eye on Umbridge. See what she's planning…"

Snape stared at him, wearing his usual blank mask he reserved for when he really didn't want anyone to read his thoughts. Then, suddenly, the mask cracked. Snape smiled at him.

"Well done, Harry. We might make a Slytherin out of you, yet."