As Harry took his old position in front of the desk, he noted that he was
now almost equal to his professor in height. Only after he had noticed this
did he realise that the Pensieve was nowhere to be seen.
Not on the shelf. Not on the desk. Nowhere near.
So Snape still had all his memories in his head?
But too late to wonder about it - the wands were up.
Harry braced himself for Snape's cry of 'Legilimens!' But instead.
'Petrificus totalus!'
It was too fast to block. The teenager's eyes goggled as he fell over backwards and hit the floor with a whump. Panicking, Harry darted his eyeballs toward the desk, where he saw Snape looming, smirking down at him.
'So shocking, isn't it, when people do things you don't expect them to?' came the cool remark. 'Now, let me see.' Snape narrowed his eyes and pointed his wand back at the immobile teen. The smirk widened.
'Extracto Memorius!'
Harry shut his eyes. There was a horrible lurch, and then a feeling as if his head was being ransacked. Bits of memories were flying everywhere, as if Snape was searching for something.
And then suddenly it stopped. His heart thumping wildly, Harry opened his eyes. Beyond all the haze of memories he could see Snape looking triumphant, his wand held up like a fishing rod.
As Snape raised his wand still higher, Harry felt himself run cold as a familiar memory came vividly into view.
It was Snape's Pensieve memory.
Harry thought then with the greatest sense of irony how useful Occlumency would have been at that moment - if only he'd bothered to master it over the summer.
'Very funny, Snape,' he thought angrily, hoping that the professor could somehow feel how annoyed he was right then. 'Thought you'd give me a taste of my father's torturing, eh? Never bothered to notice the glaring differences, have you, you prejudiced old git?'
Harry's anger increased as the memory began to be forcibly extracted from his head in a backwards order. The voices garbled as they went backwards too.
And then, Harry saw a bright light and looked up. It was a silver strand, emerging from his forehead. He watched agog as it began to travel in a steady line, straight toward Snape's wand. In his mind's eye Harry saw the teenage Snape once again hanging upside down.
'Fine! Have that!' thought Harry, lividly. 'It tortured me anyway!'
Snape on the floor - the gash closing up on his father's face, the curse travelling back to young Snape's wand - Snape on the floor spitting soapsuds.
His mother.
The silver strand reached the end of the professor's wand. Very carefully, Snape moved his head so it was directly under his wand. Slowly, he began to comb the strand towards him.
The memory began to disappear into Snape's head. Harry could only watch on as his mother walked backwards, to sit down amongst the group of girls again, and then panicked as he realised he couldn't remember what mum had done before that.
'No! You can't take her!' Harry wanted to bellow out loud. But he still couldn't move.
"Impedimenta! Stupefy! Expelliarmus!!"
In vain he tried to get a curse out at Snape, but not only was he unable to speak, his wand wasn't even pointing in the right direction! An unbearable, horrible feeling of grief overcame him. He must keep that memory - he desperately needed it!
For Sirius, as well as his mother.
Suddenly his inner turmoil was interrupted by a painful twinge from his scar. "Not now!" thought Harry savagely. He had to try and break the spell, the memory of his mother was fast disappearing from his mind.
Yet the more upset he got about the memory, the more the scar burned, until Harry could feel his eyes almost burning with the tears. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, and his brain felt like an exploded filing cabinet.
Harry looked up at Snape, and as he did so he felt once again that horrible surge of hatred, which made him feel as if he had fangs and burning red eyes.
Voldemort was looking into the room. And he was absolutely livid. Spitting mad.
Harry wasn't sure how he knew it, but somehow he was aware of another, completely different sensation. And something told him that Voldemort felt ill, as well as angry, and it was his own emotional outburst that had caused it.
Voldemort ill?
The power of Voldemort's poisonous temper seemed to interfere with the spell, and somehow, Harry suddenly and shockingly found himself screaming at the top of his voice.
'PROTEGO!!'
In one moment his scar stopped burning, and the spell was reversed.
Both Harry and Snape bared their teeth as the force of the rebound sent them dizzy. But Harry was more prepared, and sprang up jabbing his wand into the strand.
The teenager watched as an expression of mingled disbelief and horror fixed itself upon his professor's face.
'No!' shrieked Snape, as Harry pulled the memory back the other way.
Harry's father was calling after his mother - young Snape was getting up.
'No,' hissed the Professor, paling rapidly beyond the colour of chalk dust.
'Who wants me to take off Snivelly's pants?' roared James to the gathered crowd.
But Harry noticed the strand didn't stop there. Oh no - it kept on going. He watched the silver strand still moving toward him, unsure if he really wanted to see any more of it. But what would happen if he stopped the spell?
'NO!' shrieked out young Snape, his robes flying out as he writhed, making him look like some bizarre angry bat. 'No! '
'No - no?' grinned Sirius mockingly. 'Who's here for you? Evans has gone now, and I don't see anyone else around who wants a piece of your filthy mouth!'
James smirked. "What Sniv - don't you like a taste of your gang's favourite trick? Thought you were so cool - going around with Malfoy and co? Shame they've all left now - isn't it?"
"Yeah," shot out a voice in the crowd. "I heard they only let him hang about 'cus' they felt sorry for him!"
Sirius gave a bark-like 'Hah!'
And on this the crowd seemed decided. A murmur of 'pants - pants - pants!' began to sound from a few groups.
Harry saw young Lupin's nose move even closer into his book, while Wormtail was creeping closer to the action, rubbing his hands in furtive glee.
'Pants - pants - pants!'
Fifteen-year-old Snape was becoming more and more unnerved, especially now the crowd had began to chant. Harry could also see past the memory, to watch adult Snape leaning on the desk. Both Snape's had exactly the same look in their eyes - one of mounting unease.
'Aw look, Snivelly's crying!' jeered out a boy in the crowd.
'Again?' sniggered another. "Merlin save us!"
'No I'm fucking NOT!' spat the boy. But he was shielding his face with one arm, so it was hard to tell.
Snape crying? Now that really unsettled Harry.
'I didn't mean Mudblood!' came the muffled whine. 'So let me down!'
'And we all believe you Sniv,' sneered James sarcastically. 'You two faced, whiny little shit.'
'Yeah,' Sirius rallied. 'Last week you were too busy laughing over that sick little charm you pulled on Prongs!'
Harry was sure he heard several muffled sniggers go through some parts of the crowd.
'You deserved that, Potter!' spat the scruffy boy spitefully. His eyes glistened oddly. 'Let me speak to Evans!'
James glowered. 'Not a chance. You're not going near her again. Ever. And I can use my status as Head Boy to see to that!' he growled savagely. With lines of fresh blood still streaking down from the gash on his face and soaking into his collar, Potter looked particularly vicious.
Harry shuddered. How could this frightening boy grow up to be his father?
'Bastards!' hissed back Snape. Harry gazed at him wide eyed. With his screwed up expression Harry could tell the boy was definitely close to cracking. He had seen it far too often with Dudley's victims.
'Ooh - ooh, did you hear that Padfoot?' remarked James, twirling his wand lazily in his fingers.
'I did indeed Prongs,' was Black's cool reply. 'Shall we take the points, or the pants?"
"H'm, tough choice my friend, but I think this is the people's vote, and the people seem to really want the latter," replied James coolly. "So - how close do you feel to your pants, Snape?' he leered. 'So close you can't ever bear to take 'em off for the wash?'
"Fuck you Potter," screamed Snape. "I didn't mean what I said to Evans, so you can go stick that fucking wand up your fucking tight little Gryffindor arse!"
There were some intakes of breath from the crowd, and a few guffaws. Wormtail began to giggle, but soon stopped when James shot a glare at him.
Harry saw his father had gone completely red with anger, but he noticed it was Sirius who took most offence at the Slytherin's insult. In fact, he had never seen anyone look so insane.
"Would you like to find out just how much I HATE Slytherins?" hissed the boy dangerously, creeping toward the helpless teen. "Because if you do I'm more than happy to demonstrate all I know -"
All the anger, and defiance Snape had been displaying suddenly seemed to drain away, leaving a look of horror on his scrawny, sharp little face.
Lupin shut his eyes. ('Had Lupin seen this before?' Harry couldn't help wondering.)
'Do it then, bloody do it, but do you really think I'd give a SHIT?' Snape spluttered in desperation as Potter began to edge closer too. 'And you can't stop me from speaking to anyone!'
'Oh can't we?' came Sirius' low growl. "Where there's a wand - there's always a way. To go by Slytherin's motto, that is."
"And I didn't say anyone Snape," whispered Potter. "I said EVANS. Now, that would mean more to you than just anyone, wouldn't it?"
'But, you c-can't do that.' The Slytherin stuttered, twisting and writhing around as he saw Potter raise his wand.
In the dungeon Harry was aware that his professor was making a last desperate fight against the spell, teeth gritted. For a moment the memory seemed to slow down, even stutter.
But despite this, Harry saw the Head Boy continue to smile nastily, quirking an eyebrow.
"Can."
The lank haired teen's black eyes glittered in a defiance, which he must have known was futile. "No - you can't, Potter!"
"Dis-"
"NO!!"
A shadow seemed to pass over the scene before it merged into something else. In a matter of a few seconds Harry saw a mass of black shapes, smelt candles, and caught a glimpse of a room that seemed familiar. Then utter darkness.
The sound of things clattering and breaking suddenly exploded in the air all around Harry, interspersed by freakish howls which almost made him jump out of his very skin -
"You miserable – miserable...!! Why is it? Why is it her?! Why does it have to be her!!?"
This lament was cut off abruptly by a series of curses, and then a final awful shriek -
"WHY!?!"
*
*
*
Harry quivered as this lament died away to silence, leaving him to his thoughts once again.
The spell had seemingly ended – but the howled words were still ringing in his ears.
Not on the shelf. Not on the desk. Nowhere near.
So Snape still had all his memories in his head?
But too late to wonder about it - the wands were up.
Harry braced himself for Snape's cry of 'Legilimens!' But instead.
'Petrificus totalus!'
It was too fast to block. The teenager's eyes goggled as he fell over backwards and hit the floor with a whump. Panicking, Harry darted his eyeballs toward the desk, where he saw Snape looming, smirking down at him.
'So shocking, isn't it, when people do things you don't expect them to?' came the cool remark. 'Now, let me see.' Snape narrowed his eyes and pointed his wand back at the immobile teen. The smirk widened.
'Extracto Memorius!'
Harry shut his eyes. There was a horrible lurch, and then a feeling as if his head was being ransacked. Bits of memories were flying everywhere, as if Snape was searching for something.
And then suddenly it stopped. His heart thumping wildly, Harry opened his eyes. Beyond all the haze of memories he could see Snape looking triumphant, his wand held up like a fishing rod.
As Snape raised his wand still higher, Harry felt himself run cold as a familiar memory came vividly into view.
It was Snape's Pensieve memory.
Harry thought then with the greatest sense of irony how useful Occlumency would have been at that moment - if only he'd bothered to master it over the summer.
'Very funny, Snape,' he thought angrily, hoping that the professor could somehow feel how annoyed he was right then. 'Thought you'd give me a taste of my father's torturing, eh? Never bothered to notice the glaring differences, have you, you prejudiced old git?'
Harry's anger increased as the memory began to be forcibly extracted from his head in a backwards order. The voices garbled as they went backwards too.
And then, Harry saw a bright light and looked up. It was a silver strand, emerging from his forehead. He watched agog as it began to travel in a steady line, straight toward Snape's wand. In his mind's eye Harry saw the teenage Snape once again hanging upside down.
'Fine! Have that!' thought Harry, lividly. 'It tortured me anyway!'
Snape on the floor - the gash closing up on his father's face, the curse travelling back to young Snape's wand - Snape on the floor spitting soapsuds.
His mother.
The silver strand reached the end of the professor's wand. Very carefully, Snape moved his head so it was directly under his wand. Slowly, he began to comb the strand towards him.
The memory began to disappear into Snape's head. Harry could only watch on as his mother walked backwards, to sit down amongst the group of girls again, and then panicked as he realised he couldn't remember what mum had done before that.
'No! You can't take her!' Harry wanted to bellow out loud. But he still couldn't move.
"Impedimenta! Stupefy! Expelliarmus!!"
In vain he tried to get a curse out at Snape, but not only was he unable to speak, his wand wasn't even pointing in the right direction! An unbearable, horrible feeling of grief overcame him. He must keep that memory - he desperately needed it!
For Sirius, as well as his mother.
Suddenly his inner turmoil was interrupted by a painful twinge from his scar. "Not now!" thought Harry savagely. He had to try and break the spell, the memory of his mother was fast disappearing from his mind.
Yet the more upset he got about the memory, the more the scar burned, until Harry could feel his eyes almost burning with the tears. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, and his brain felt like an exploded filing cabinet.
Harry looked up at Snape, and as he did so he felt once again that horrible surge of hatred, which made him feel as if he had fangs and burning red eyes.
Voldemort was looking into the room. And he was absolutely livid. Spitting mad.
Harry wasn't sure how he knew it, but somehow he was aware of another, completely different sensation. And something told him that Voldemort felt ill, as well as angry, and it was his own emotional outburst that had caused it.
Voldemort ill?
The power of Voldemort's poisonous temper seemed to interfere with the spell, and somehow, Harry suddenly and shockingly found himself screaming at the top of his voice.
'PROTEGO!!'
In one moment his scar stopped burning, and the spell was reversed.
Both Harry and Snape bared their teeth as the force of the rebound sent them dizzy. But Harry was more prepared, and sprang up jabbing his wand into the strand.
The teenager watched as an expression of mingled disbelief and horror fixed itself upon his professor's face.
'No!' shrieked Snape, as Harry pulled the memory back the other way.
Harry's father was calling after his mother - young Snape was getting up.
'No,' hissed the Professor, paling rapidly beyond the colour of chalk dust.
'Who wants me to take off Snivelly's pants?' roared James to the gathered crowd.
But Harry noticed the strand didn't stop there. Oh no - it kept on going. He watched the silver strand still moving toward him, unsure if he really wanted to see any more of it. But what would happen if he stopped the spell?
'NO!' shrieked out young Snape, his robes flying out as he writhed, making him look like some bizarre angry bat. 'No! '
'No - no?' grinned Sirius mockingly. 'Who's here for you? Evans has gone now, and I don't see anyone else around who wants a piece of your filthy mouth!'
James smirked. "What Sniv - don't you like a taste of your gang's favourite trick? Thought you were so cool - going around with Malfoy and co? Shame they've all left now - isn't it?"
"Yeah," shot out a voice in the crowd. "I heard they only let him hang about 'cus' they felt sorry for him!"
Sirius gave a bark-like 'Hah!'
And on this the crowd seemed decided. A murmur of 'pants - pants - pants!' began to sound from a few groups.
Harry saw young Lupin's nose move even closer into his book, while Wormtail was creeping closer to the action, rubbing his hands in furtive glee.
'Pants - pants - pants!'
Fifteen-year-old Snape was becoming more and more unnerved, especially now the crowd had began to chant. Harry could also see past the memory, to watch adult Snape leaning on the desk. Both Snape's had exactly the same look in their eyes - one of mounting unease.
'Aw look, Snivelly's crying!' jeered out a boy in the crowd.
'Again?' sniggered another. "Merlin save us!"
'No I'm fucking NOT!' spat the boy. But he was shielding his face with one arm, so it was hard to tell.
Snape crying? Now that really unsettled Harry.
'I didn't mean Mudblood!' came the muffled whine. 'So let me down!'
'And we all believe you Sniv,' sneered James sarcastically. 'You two faced, whiny little shit.'
'Yeah,' Sirius rallied. 'Last week you were too busy laughing over that sick little charm you pulled on Prongs!'
Harry was sure he heard several muffled sniggers go through some parts of the crowd.
'You deserved that, Potter!' spat the scruffy boy spitefully. His eyes glistened oddly. 'Let me speak to Evans!'
James glowered. 'Not a chance. You're not going near her again. Ever. And I can use my status as Head Boy to see to that!' he growled savagely. With lines of fresh blood still streaking down from the gash on his face and soaking into his collar, Potter looked particularly vicious.
Harry shuddered. How could this frightening boy grow up to be his father?
'Bastards!' hissed back Snape. Harry gazed at him wide eyed. With his screwed up expression Harry could tell the boy was definitely close to cracking. He had seen it far too often with Dudley's victims.
'Ooh - ooh, did you hear that Padfoot?' remarked James, twirling his wand lazily in his fingers.
'I did indeed Prongs,' was Black's cool reply. 'Shall we take the points, or the pants?"
"H'm, tough choice my friend, but I think this is the people's vote, and the people seem to really want the latter," replied James coolly. "So - how close do you feel to your pants, Snape?' he leered. 'So close you can't ever bear to take 'em off for the wash?'
"Fuck you Potter," screamed Snape. "I didn't mean what I said to Evans, so you can go stick that fucking wand up your fucking tight little Gryffindor arse!"
There were some intakes of breath from the crowd, and a few guffaws. Wormtail began to giggle, but soon stopped when James shot a glare at him.
Harry saw his father had gone completely red with anger, but he noticed it was Sirius who took most offence at the Slytherin's insult. In fact, he had never seen anyone look so insane.
"Would you like to find out just how much I HATE Slytherins?" hissed the boy dangerously, creeping toward the helpless teen. "Because if you do I'm more than happy to demonstrate all I know -"
All the anger, and defiance Snape had been displaying suddenly seemed to drain away, leaving a look of horror on his scrawny, sharp little face.
Lupin shut his eyes. ('Had Lupin seen this before?' Harry couldn't help wondering.)
'Do it then, bloody do it, but do you really think I'd give a SHIT?' Snape spluttered in desperation as Potter began to edge closer too. 'And you can't stop me from speaking to anyone!'
'Oh can't we?' came Sirius' low growl. "Where there's a wand - there's always a way. To go by Slytherin's motto, that is."
"And I didn't say anyone Snape," whispered Potter. "I said EVANS. Now, that would mean more to you than just anyone, wouldn't it?"
'But, you c-can't do that.' The Slytherin stuttered, twisting and writhing around as he saw Potter raise his wand.
In the dungeon Harry was aware that his professor was making a last desperate fight against the spell, teeth gritted. For a moment the memory seemed to slow down, even stutter.
But despite this, Harry saw the Head Boy continue to smile nastily, quirking an eyebrow.
"Can."
The lank haired teen's black eyes glittered in a defiance, which he must have known was futile. "No - you can't, Potter!"
"Dis-"
"NO!!"
A shadow seemed to pass over the scene before it merged into something else. In a matter of a few seconds Harry saw a mass of black shapes, smelt candles, and caught a glimpse of a room that seemed familiar. Then utter darkness.
The sound of things clattering and breaking suddenly exploded in the air all around Harry, interspersed by freakish howls which almost made him jump out of his very skin -
"You miserable – miserable...!! Why is it? Why is it her?! Why does it have to be her!!?"
This lament was cut off abruptly by a series of curses, and then a final awful shriek -
"WHY!?!"
*
*
*
Harry quivered as this lament died away to silence, leaving him to his thoughts once again.
The spell had seemingly ended – but the howled words were still ringing in his ears.
