A/N: Not your usual Potions class -cough- ;-) Please review/comment.
Thanks!
________________________
The six students lined up to face the rest of the class. Harry stared out into the dungeon gloom. His eye wandered across to Snape, who narrowed his eyes at him.
'Malfoy, step forward,' he ordered.
Draco advanced, making sure to cast a leer back at Harry and Neville. He swallowed the draught in one. Gagging at the taste, he stumbled on one knee.
The class gasped as Draco stood up. His face was changing, his sharp nose lengthening, his body turning brown and gold. The Slytherins were awed. Where Draco had stood, now sat a haughty looking Hippogriff.
He had been badly scratched by one of Hagrid's in the third year. Draco's stern eagle head looked down, and noticed his fingers had become talons, which were half a foot long, and razor sharp. He swivelled his head round, and cocked an orange eye toward the row of testers.
Maybe he could use this to an advantage.
Harry met the creature's cruel stare. He was certain that if a Hippogriff's beak was able to sneer, it would be showing one right now. The creature crouched, tensed, and flexed his calws. Harry glared back, and shifted.
The Hippogriff screeched, and reared. Harry's hand flew to his wand pocket.
'Petrificus totalus!'
The Hippogriff froze just as it was about to leap forward. The testers scattered as the creature keeled over on its front, revealing a smirking Snape standing behind it. He pocketed his wand, bent over and dripped the vial of antidote into its beak.
Ten seconds later, the rigid human form of Draco had reappeared, an evil grin split right across his face. Snape muttered the counter curse. The boy's face darkened, for a second before he spoke.
'Oh, thanks professor,' said Draco, slyly, as Snape helped him up. 'But no thanks to that great oaf in the grounds. I think the beast was beginning to take control of me, or something.'
Hermione glared at him.
Two other Slytherins drank. Nothing happened. According to Hermione this was because they had had less eventful lives.
'Longbottom. ' hissed Snape.
Neville stepped forward nervously. His hand trembled as he tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth.
Twenty seconds lapsed, and nothing happened. He sighed weakly with relief as he was dismissed, and went to join Hermione at the other end of the classroom.
The other Slytherin, Theodore Nott drank. Hermione and Lavender couldn't help giggling when he changed into a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and managed to tip over several cauldrons and set fire to a desk before Snape could fire a single hex.
'I'm surprised nobody died in those lessons in the third year,' sneered Draco.
The class had become tense, and had began to mutter again. This last one was the one they had been waiting to see. How much 'darkness' had Potter been in contact with?
'Settle down,' said Snape idly. His eyes began to glitter. 'As a precaution, I suggest that everyone remain behind me.' He whirled round, and fixed his last student with a curious gaze.
'Potter!'
As the last student stepped nervously forward, a terrible smile twisted the Potion Master's face. 'For an answer.to -that- question?'
Harry tensed. So here he was, all alone. Again. He took one last look at Hermione, screwed up his eyes and downed the vial.
The first thing he sensed was a feeling of rage. Then his stomach lurched, and his eyesight began to blur.
The class watched wide-eyed as Harry's eyes began to glow bright yellow. His body was contorting before their eyes. A long neck, a pointed head, wings.
'A Hungarian Horntail!' gasped Hermione.
The black dragon hissed at her, flame flickering out its nostrils. Its tail coiled round, and crushed several desks into the wall.
Several Slytherins were whimpering. 'Shut up!' Snape snapped. 'You know I can put a stop to this at any moment!'
Harry felt himself turning again-
He was feeling a different anger now. A low, simmering one. He was also feeling very cruel, and was hardly surprised when he felt a great desire to torture someone until they screamed in pain-
The class gasped as Harry's eerie red eyes scrutinized them coldly. His terrible, skull-like face standing out ghostly white in the torchlight.
Harry knew what had happened, but he lifted his hands up to see, anyway. There they were, the long, thin fingers of his visions, pale and spidery. He lifted his gaze again. Several of the Slytherins cowered. Now here at least, was one good thing about it all!
He decided to give them all, his most malicious leer. They cowered still more, whimpering. Harry suspected that Voldemort would only smile when he was thinking about torturing something.
He was changing again, becoming shorter. His head was getting closer to the floor, his body was stretching out. A voice had begun to sound in his head. A repeated whisper in an ancient language.
Kill. must . kill.
His eyes were just below desk level. He lifted his head up to stare across the dungeon, feeling decidedly - snake-ish.
In a flash Snape had whirled round, flinging out his cloak. But it was too late. The rest of the potions class had already been petrified. Snape cursed loudly as they keeled over rigid on top of each other.
But someone else had averted their eyes. Harry noticed that one other student was still standing, her back to him.
'I didn't fancy being petrified for the third time professor,' she said dryly.
Snape raised an eyebrow, and looked as if he was about to give her a wry smirk, but Hermione had looked round. He followed her gaze.
Harry felt very odd. Not different, but odd. He was standing at his normal height again. He felt human, but also in some way. inhuman.
He held up his hands again. His skin had a rather dusky tinge to it, as if he had been unwell. His fingers were thin and bony, the nails quite long.
He felt agitated, restless. Something was bothering him. Like a memory he had forgotten and was trying in vain to remember.
Hermione's eyes widened. Snape's narrowed.
The creature's nostrils quivered. There was human in this room, he could sense it. Harry looked up, his eye falling first on the female. She was unnerved, wide-eyed, but not afraid.
He slid his gaze across to the other. But this being. A deep hatred rushed up in him. This miserable, insufferable being, was a half blood traitor!
Harry opened his mouth and was horrified to hear himself snarl like a wild animal.
He knew instantly where he'd heard this noise before. It belonged to Snape's grim and shadowy memory. He went to lick his lips nervously.
His tongue brushed against something very sharp.
His hand flew up to feel his face in horror. His forehead felt different - his nose - his mouth had.
Fangs.
Fangs? Harry felt something deadly cold run down his neck. Snape: a vampire? But that was clearly impossible, he had refereed that Quidditch match in broad daylight. There were no clues, Hermione would have twigged.
But what - if not vampire blood?
'Feeling suitably educated yet, Potter?' said Snape softly, wearing a look of utter revulsion on his face. -He had to curb a raging urge to stake the creature.After all, what could be viler than a Vampire Potter?-
'Harry, but how. ?' whispered Hermione faintly. She gazed wide eyed at Snape, whose black eyes gleamed madly, the pale fingers of one hand pressed against his neck.
On the other side of the room Harry steadied himself against a desk. The feeling of restlessness was beginning to bother him. He was also beginning to feel a dull, pounding ache inside his head.
'This is unbearable,' thought Harry, grimacing. He could understand rage and anger, even coldness and cruelty.
But this feeling.?
'Please.' he rasped painfully, forcing himself to turn his gaze away from the humans, hiding his head under his robes. 'Please.'
This was like -hell.
'Please. enough!' He rasped out, cowering. He needed it to be darker. The torch flames suddenly seemed far too bright.
Then he heard Hermione's voice call out. 'Petrificus totalus!' Harry felt himself keel over, rigid.
_____________________________________________
Harry picked himself off the floor and dusted himself down. The class were bustling about him, clearing away and mopping up spills. The antidote must have returned them to normal, too. Snape's voice sounded above the classroom noise.
'There will be nothing new in next week's lesson either. I suggest that you continue with the revision.' he sneered. 'And I would prefer it if you uphold the standard you reached today. I will not tolerate failure in my NEWT classes.'
The Slytherins were all casting Harry filthy looks, and whispering. Snape had let them find out. Was this what he had to look forward to now? Where could it end? Would Ron shun him?
Hermione looked at the Slytherins, and smiled to herself. Now they all knew it wasn't nice being petrified. If only she had had something slimy to flick at them.
Harry felt stiff, sore, and utterly defeated. It was like he still had some of that ageing potion left in him.
He also felt slightly weak and nauseous, as if he had been nearly suffocated. Like that day when Uncle Vernon had almost strangled him in a fit of rage.
He stifled that thought quickly.
As Hermione helped him pack away his things, she suddenly leaned across to him and whispered in his ear.
'They don't know, Harry.'
'What? Who?' Harry was confused. Did she expect everyone to understand her train of thought?
'The Slytherins. All petrified.'
Harry stared back dumbly. 'All?'
'Yes. And Neville too. When you're petrified you can't remember it. They're just whingeing about what you did to them as the Basilisk.'
Harry's heart gave a leap of hope. Maybe he could keep this a secret. Sharing a secret with Snape? He shivered, but was glad that Hermione knew too. Maybe she'd even figure the rest out. She smiled at him. They stood up, and slowly went to follow the others out of the door.
'Potter. ' It was Snape's cold voice. As Harry turned the professor's lip curled. 'I suggest you remain behind to repair the considerable damage your Hungarian Horntail did to my classroom.'
Harry stalled. -How predictable-. Never mind the Blast-Ended Skrewt that had torched a couple of desks, and sent cauldrons and newt brains flying across the dungeon. Hermione narrowed her eyes, while Neville gave him a supportive look. He stood back while the class filtered out.
He heard a snigger behind him. 'Have a nice spring clean, Potty!'
Malfoy walked past, smirking, closing the door behind him.
He looked across at the professor, who was sat idly at his desk on the raised platform, watching him closely. The torch flames illuminated his sallow face eerily, their light reflecting in, but failing to warm his cold black eyes.
'I suppose I couldn't exactly avoid spending more quality time with my tormenter,' Harry said wearily.
Snape's eyes narrowed. 'So you care to lay the blame on me as the creator of your torment?' came the sly retort. 'As far as I can envisage, Potter, you brought this whole sorry mess on yourself!'
Harry remained silent.
The Potions Master leaned back, spreading his hands and putting them together so just the fingertips touched. 'Well. Potter.' he whispered. You asked me a question, and I, as one of your professors, thought it only fair I should inform you of the answer. And, as it is woefully obvious, that your preference is for active learning, and not books. '
He trailed off for effect, raising one sardonic eyebrow. Harry set his jaw.
Snape smiled nastily and leaned forward, the greasy curtains of hair falling, throwing his face into shadow. 'After all, what's a dark secret between Occlumens? Now.what's that Muggle phrase?' he frowned, pretending to think. 'A problem shared, is a problem halved. Don't you think so, -Harry?'
His name again, sounding almost tainted the way Snape hissed it. Clearly this was turning into the latest form of amusement.
Harry couldn't care to answer. After all, they were just insults, and he knew how to treat those now. Instead he concentrated on fixing his eyes on a stone in the wall behind the Professor's head
Snape leant back in his chair again, this time tracing a thin finger over his mouth. The room was silent for perhaps as long as a minute.
'These silences really do add some depth to your character,' he sneered eventually.
'What happened to clearing up the dungeon?' thought Harry. Did Snape just call him back so he could throw 'perceptive' insults at him? Or - was Snape working himself up to revealing some other chilling secret, in his rather odd, roundabout way?
But he had to steel himself. He wouldn't stoop to Snape's cruelty. 'Hate is a fear of understanding.' This was the last thing his mother had told him, before she had let him go.
It also reminded him of something Luna had suddenly come up with one day. 'If everyone faced life with clenched fists, nobody would ever be able to shake hands.'
Harry wasn't sure if he ever wanted to take this literally and actually shake Snape's hand, but he saw that six years of returning his hatred had absolutely done no good whatsoever. Hearing his mother's voice had given him a reason to drag himself up from the floor, and strength to repair his shattered identity. She believed he could change, and if he let the world defeat him now, then her death would have been in vain.
'So, tell me,' the smooth and horribly smug voice began again. 'How do you feel about the educational value of today's potions lesson? Not that I care about your feelings, or the impact on your mental state, of course.'
'If he is keeping me behind to ask for such a thing, then he does care,' thought Harry, still averting his eyes from the chilling gaze. Snape had not just wanted to name his 'curse'; he had contrived a plot to enable Harry to physically experience it. The reality of this was quite disturbing.
'I think I would prefer to tell a counsellor that, sir,' muttered Harry quietly.
Snape laughed dryly, and mirthlessly. The tired sound echoed around the dungeon, sending chills through Harry.
'The cruel can suffer as much as the kind, Potter,' he hissed. He stood up and beckoned Harry over.
When Harry felt he was close enough, (Which would have been anywhere in, or near Snape's dungeon, to tell the truth) he stopped. Snape loomed over his desk, and glared down at him.
'Want to know what kind of suffering a fifteen year old went through after he heard his mother being -bitten- to death by his grandfather?'
Harry's eyes darted from the wall, and locked into the professors. His thoughts sped directly to the haunting memory.
Not a crucio scream - a vampire attack.
Snape wasn't finished, though. His eyes had begun to glint oddly. His voice came as a deadly hiss.
'When you had your little tantrum in my office the other day, you used the word, hate more than once. Hear me, Potter, you can't even begin to conceive how it feels to hate someone! You are too sickeningly noble, too upright, too -pure!' he spat out the last word, as if it had been a bitter nut.
Harry's shock deepened. For this memory had just linked itself to one several years old now. One he had tried hard to forget, one in where he had heard a woman screaming, and screaming. On, and on. growing weaker and weaker.
Now he knew why Snape's memory had haunted him so often. The dungeon seemed to plummet all around him.
'Well?' Snape snapped, breathing evenly. He surveyed the boy through narrowed eyes, impatient for a response.
'My mum screamed, too,' the boy mumbled quietly.
Snape started. He was hardly one for empathy, though, even in the best of moods. 'Don't try that game, Potter!' he hissed threateningly.
But Harry was already blinking back tears. 'The Dementors in third year showed me,' he muttered. 'My father was telling her to run.Then Vol- He, was laughing. 'Stand aside you silly girl.' he was shouting. My mum begged him for mercy. Not Harry.! Please.take me.! kill me instead.Horrible.oh, horrible. screaming.'
Harry was exhausted, physically and mentally. His steady hold on recalling the memory broke and he began to sob wretchedly.
The professor scowled uneasily as the boy put a shaking hand up to cover his face. This wasn't expected, he had wanted to see the boy turn green with shock again.
But the Dementors had to ruin his triumphs, like everyone else.
'Why in Merlin's name,' thought Snape darkly, 'should the son of James Potter decide to have all his breakdowns in front of me?'
'You're being pathetic again, Potter,' he rasped. 'This childishness will get you nowhere with me!'
In response, Harry simply turned aside and began to sob more loudly. He would cry all he wanted. He was in no mood to please Snape by shutting up. Suffering was good; he got a strange comfort from it now.
Feeling pain meant he was still human. Unlike Snape.
He was terrified of becoming like Snape.
Terrified.
Snape straightened up awkwardly, and stepped out from behind his desk.
'Stop this pointless nonsense, boy!' he hissed.
Out of the watery corner of his eye Harry saw a man walking toward him. As he closed in, Harry cringed. Then, unexpectedly, he felt a blind rush of panic overwhelm him. Where was he? Who was that?
'NOOO!' He shrieked out suddenly, cowering. 'NO MORE! PLEASE! NOT AGAIN! I CAN'T - NO MORE!'
The door creaked open. Snape stopped abruptly in his tracks.
Professor Brown had just walked in, a pile of books cradled in her arms.
________________________
The six students lined up to face the rest of the class. Harry stared out into the dungeon gloom. His eye wandered across to Snape, who narrowed his eyes at him.
'Malfoy, step forward,' he ordered.
Draco advanced, making sure to cast a leer back at Harry and Neville. He swallowed the draught in one. Gagging at the taste, he stumbled on one knee.
The class gasped as Draco stood up. His face was changing, his sharp nose lengthening, his body turning brown and gold. The Slytherins were awed. Where Draco had stood, now sat a haughty looking Hippogriff.
He had been badly scratched by one of Hagrid's in the third year. Draco's stern eagle head looked down, and noticed his fingers had become talons, which were half a foot long, and razor sharp. He swivelled his head round, and cocked an orange eye toward the row of testers.
Maybe he could use this to an advantage.
Harry met the creature's cruel stare. He was certain that if a Hippogriff's beak was able to sneer, it would be showing one right now. The creature crouched, tensed, and flexed his calws. Harry glared back, and shifted.
The Hippogriff screeched, and reared. Harry's hand flew to his wand pocket.
'Petrificus totalus!'
The Hippogriff froze just as it was about to leap forward. The testers scattered as the creature keeled over on its front, revealing a smirking Snape standing behind it. He pocketed his wand, bent over and dripped the vial of antidote into its beak.
Ten seconds later, the rigid human form of Draco had reappeared, an evil grin split right across his face. Snape muttered the counter curse. The boy's face darkened, for a second before he spoke.
'Oh, thanks professor,' said Draco, slyly, as Snape helped him up. 'But no thanks to that great oaf in the grounds. I think the beast was beginning to take control of me, or something.'
Hermione glared at him.
Two other Slytherins drank. Nothing happened. According to Hermione this was because they had had less eventful lives.
'Longbottom. ' hissed Snape.
Neville stepped forward nervously. His hand trembled as he tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth.
Twenty seconds lapsed, and nothing happened. He sighed weakly with relief as he was dismissed, and went to join Hermione at the other end of the classroom.
The other Slytherin, Theodore Nott drank. Hermione and Lavender couldn't help giggling when he changed into a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and managed to tip over several cauldrons and set fire to a desk before Snape could fire a single hex.
'I'm surprised nobody died in those lessons in the third year,' sneered Draco.
The class had become tense, and had began to mutter again. This last one was the one they had been waiting to see. How much 'darkness' had Potter been in contact with?
'Settle down,' said Snape idly. His eyes began to glitter. 'As a precaution, I suggest that everyone remain behind me.' He whirled round, and fixed his last student with a curious gaze.
'Potter!'
As the last student stepped nervously forward, a terrible smile twisted the Potion Master's face. 'For an answer.to -that- question?'
Harry tensed. So here he was, all alone. Again. He took one last look at Hermione, screwed up his eyes and downed the vial.
The first thing he sensed was a feeling of rage. Then his stomach lurched, and his eyesight began to blur.
The class watched wide-eyed as Harry's eyes began to glow bright yellow. His body was contorting before their eyes. A long neck, a pointed head, wings.
'A Hungarian Horntail!' gasped Hermione.
The black dragon hissed at her, flame flickering out its nostrils. Its tail coiled round, and crushed several desks into the wall.
Several Slytherins were whimpering. 'Shut up!' Snape snapped. 'You know I can put a stop to this at any moment!'
Harry felt himself turning again-
He was feeling a different anger now. A low, simmering one. He was also feeling very cruel, and was hardly surprised when he felt a great desire to torture someone until they screamed in pain-
The class gasped as Harry's eerie red eyes scrutinized them coldly. His terrible, skull-like face standing out ghostly white in the torchlight.
Harry knew what had happened, but he lifted his hands up to see, anyway. There they were, the long, thin fingers of his visions, pale and spidery. He lifted his gaze again. Several of the Slytherins cowered. Now here at least, was one good thing about it all!
He decided to give them all, his most malicious leer. They cowered still more, whimpering. Harry suspected that Voldemort would only smile when he was thinking about torturing something.
He was changing again, becoming shorter. His head was getting closer to the floor, his body was stretching out. A voice had begun to sound in his head. A repeated whisper in an ancient language.
Kill. must . kill.
His eyes were just below desk level. He lifted his head up to stare across the dungeon, feeling decidedly - snake-ish.
In a flash Snape had whirled round, flinging out his cloak. But it was too late. The rest of the potions class had already been petrified. Snape cursed loudly as they keeled over rigid on top of each other.
But someone else had averted their eyes. Harry noticed that one other student was still standing, her back to him.
'I didn't fancy being petrified for the third time professor,' she said dryly.
Snape raised an eyebrow, and looked as if he was about to give her a wry smirk, but Hermione had looked round. He followed her gaze.
Harry felt very odd. Not different, but odd. He was standing at his normal height again. He felt human, but also in some way. inhuman.
He held up his hands again. His skin had a rather dusky tinge to it, as if he had been unwell. His fingers were thin and bony, the nails quite long.
He felt agitated, restless. Something was bothering him. Like a memory he had forgotten and was trying in vain to remember.
Hermione's eyes widened. Snape's narrowed.
The creature's nostrils quivered. There was human in this room, he could sense it. Harry looked up, his eye falling first on the female. She was unnerved, wide-eyed, but not afraid.
He slid his gaze across to the other. But this being. A deep hatred rushed up in him. This miserable, insufferable being, was a half blood traitor!
Harry opened his mouth and was horrified to hear himself snarl like a wild animal.
He knew instantly where he'd heard this noise before. It belonged to Snape's grim and shadowy memory. He went to lick his lips nervously.
His tongue brushed against something very sharp.
His hand flew up to feel his face in horror. His forehead felt different - his nose - his mouth had.
Fangs.
Fangs? Harry felt something deadly cold run down his neck. Snape: a vampire? But that was clearly impossible, he had refereed that Quidditch match in broad daylight. There were no clues, Hermione would have twigged.
But what - if not vampire blood?
'Feeling suitably educated yet, Potter?' said Snape softly, wearing a look of utter revulsion on his face. -He had to curb a raging urge to stake the creature.After all, what could be viler than a Vampire Potter?-
'Harry, but how. ?' whispered Hermione faintly. She gazed wide eyed at Snape, whose black eyes gleamed madly, the pale fingers of one hand pressed against his neck.
On the other side of the room Harry steadied himself against a desk. The feeling of restlessness was beginning to bother him. He was also beginning to feel a dull, pounding ache inside his head.
'This is unbearable,' thought Harry, grimacing. He could understand rage and anger, even coldness and cruelty.
But this feeling.?
'Please.' he rasped painfully, forcing himself to turn his gaze away from the humans, hiding his head under his robes. 'Please.'
This was like -hell.
'Please. enough!' He rasped out, cowering. He needed it to be darker. The torch flames suddenly seemed far too bright.
Then he heard Hermione's voice call out. 'Petrificus totalus!' Harry felt himself keel over, rigid.
_____________________________________________
Harry picked himself off the floor and dusted himself down. The class were bustling about him, clearing away and mopping up spills. The antidote must have returned them to normal, too. Snape's voice sounded above the classroom noise.
'There will be nothing new in next week's lesson either. I suggest that you continue with the revision.' he sneered. 'And I would prefer it if you uphold the standard you reached today. I will not tolerate failure in my NEWT classes.'
The Slytherins were all casting Harry filthy looks, and whispering. Snape had let them find out. Was this what he had to look forward to now? Where could it end? Would Ron shun him?
Hermione looked at the Slytherins, and smiled to herself. Now they all knew it wasn't nice being petrified. If only she had had something slimy to flick at them.
Harry felt stiff, sore, and utterly defeated. It was like he still had some of that ageing potion left in him.
He also felt slightly weak and nauseous, as if he had been nearly suffocated. Like that day when Uncle Vernon had almost strangled him in a fit of rage.
He stifled that thought quickly.
As Hermione helped him pack away his things, she suddenly leaned across to him and whispered in his ear.
'They don't know, Harry.'
'What? Who?' Harry was confused. Did she expect everyone to understand her train of thought?
'The Slytherins. All petrified.'
Harry stared back dumbly. 'All?'
'Yes. And Neville too. When you're petrified you can't remember it. They're just whingeing about what you did to them as the Basilisk.'
Harry's heart gave a leap of hope. Maybe he could keep this a secret. Sharing a secret with Snape? He shivered, but was glad that Hermione knew too. Maybe she'd even figure the rest out. She smiled at him. They stood up, and slowly went to follow the others out of the door.
'Potter. ' It was Snape's cold voice. As Harry turned the professor's lip curled. 'I suggest you remain behind to repair the considerable damage your Hungarian Horntail did to my classroom.'
Harry stalled. -How predictable-. Never mind the Blast-Ended Skrewt that had torched a couple of desks, and sent cauldrons and newt brains flying across the dungeon. Hermione narrowed her eyes, while Neville gave him a supportive look. He stood back while the class filtered out.
He heard a snigger behind him. 'Have a nice spring clean, Potty!'
Malfoy walked past, smirking, closing the door behind him.
He looked across at the professor, who was sat idly at his desk on the raised platform, watching him closely. The torch flames illuminated his sallow face eerily, their light reflecting in, but failing to warm his cold black eyes.
'I suppose I couldn't exactly avoid spending more quality time with my tormenter,' Harry said wearily.
Snape's eyes narrowed. 'So you care to lay the blame on me as the creator of your torment?' came the sly retort. 'As far as I can envisage, Potter, you brought this whole sorry mess on yourself!'
Harry remained silent.
The Potions Master leaned back, spreading his hands and putting them together so just the fingertips touched. 'Well. Potter.' he whispered. You asked me a question, and I, as one of your professors, thought it only fair I should inform you of the answer. And, as it is woefully obvious, that your preference is for active learning, and not books. '
He trailed off for effect, raising one sardonic eyebrow. Harry set his jaw.
Snape smiled nastily and leaned forward, the greasy curtains of hair falling, throwing his face into shadow. 'After all, what's a dark secret between Occlumens? Now.what's that Muggle phrase?' he frowned, pretending to think. 'A problem shared, is a problem halved. Don't you think so, -Harry?'
His name again, sounding almost tainted the way Snape hissed it. Clearly this was turning into the latest form of amusement.
Harry couldn't care to answer. After all, they were just insults, and he knew how to treat those now. Instead he concentrated on fixing his eyes on a stone in the wall behind the Professor's head
Snape leant back in his chair again, this time tracing a thin finger over his mouth. The room was silent for perhaps as long as a minute.
'These silences really do add some depth to your character,' he sneered eventually.
'What happened to clearing up the dungeon?' thought Harry. Did Snape just call him back so he could throw 'perceptive' insults at him? Or - was Snape working himself up to revealing some other chilling secret, in his rather odd, roundabout way?
But he had to steel himself. He wouldn't stoop to Snape's cruelty. 'Hate is a fear of understanding.' This was the last thing his mother had told him, before she had let him go.
It also reminded him of something Luna had suddenly come up with one day. 'If everyone faced life with clenched fists, nobody would ever be able to shake hands.'
Harry wasn't sure if he ever wanted to take this literally and actually shake Snape's hand, but he saw that six years of returning his hatred had absolutely done no good whatsoever. Hearing his mother's voice had given him a reason to drag himself up from the floor, and strength to repair his shattered identity. She believed he could change, and if he let the world defeat him now, then her death would have been in vain.
'So, tell me,' the smooth and horribly smug voice began again. 'How do you feel about the educational value of today's potions lesson? Not that I care about your feelings, or the impact on your mental state, of course.'
'If he is keeping me behind to ask for such a thing, then he does care,' thought Harry, still averting his eyes from the chilling gaze. Snape had not just wanted to name his 'curse'; he had contrived a plot to enable Harry to physically experience it. The reality of this was quite disturbing.
'I think I would prefer to tell a counsellor that, sir,' muttered Harry quietly.
Snape laughed dryly, and mirthlessly. The tired sound echoed around the dungeon, sending chills through Harry.
'The cruel can suffer as much as the kind, Potter,' he hissed. He stood up and beckoned Harry over.
When Harry felt he was close enough, (Which would have been anywhere in, or near Snape's dungeon, to tell the truth) he stopped. Snape loomed over his desk, and glared down at him.
'Want to know what kind of suffering a fifteen year old went through after he heard his mother being -bitten- to death by his grandfather?'
Harry's eyes darted from the wall, and locked into the professors. His thoughts sped directly to the haunting memory.
Not a crucio scream - a vampire attack.
Snape wasn't finished, though. His eyes had begun to glint oddly. His voice came as a deadly hiss.
'When you had your little tantrum in my office the other day, you used the word, hate more than once. Hear me, Potter, you can't even begin to conceive how it feels to hate someone! You are too sickeningly noble, too upright, too -pure!' he spat out the last word, as if it had been a bitter nut.
Harry's shock deepened. For this memory had just linked itself to one several years old now. One he had tried hard to forget, one in where he had heard a woman screaming, and screaming. On, and on. growing weaker and weaker.
Now he knew why Snape's memory had haunted him so often. The dungeon seemed to plummet all around him.
'Well?' Snape snapped, breathing evenly. He surveyed the boy through narrowed eyes, impatient for a response.
'My mum screamed, too,' the boy mumbled quietly.
Snape started. He was hardly one for empathy, though, even in the best of moods. 'Don't try that game, Potter!' he hissed threateningly.
But Harry was already blinking back tears. 'The Dementors in third year showed me,' he muttered. 'My father was telling her to run.Then Vol- He, was laughing. 'Stand aside you silly girl.' he was shouting. My mum begged him for mercy. Not Harry.! Please.take me.! kill me instead.Horrible.oh, horrible. screaming.'
Harry was exhausted, physically and mentally. His steady hold on recalling the memory broke and he began to sob wretchedly.
The professor scowled uneasily as the boy put a shaking hand up to cover his face. This wasn't expected, he had wanted to see the boy turn green with shock again.
But the Dementors had to ruin his triumphs, like everyone else.
'Why in Merlin's name,' thought Snape darkly, 'should the son of James Potter decide to have all his breakdowns in front of me?'
'You're being pathetic again, Potter,' he rasped. 'This childishness will get you nowhere with me!'
In response, Harry simply turned aside and began to sob more loudly. He would cry all he wanted. He was in no mood to please Snape by shutting up. Suffering was good; he got a strange comfort from it now.
Feeling pain meant he was still human. Unlike Snape.
He was terrified of becoming like Snape.
Terrified.
Snape straightened up awkwardly, and stepped out from behind his desk.
'Stop this pointless nonsense, boy!' he hissed.
Out of the watery corner of his eye Harry saw a man walking toward him. As he closed in, Harry cringed. Then, unexpectedly, he felt a blind rush of panic overwhelm him. Where was he? Who was that?
'NOOO!' He shrieked out suddenly, cowering. 'NO MORE! PLEASE! NOT AGAIN! I CAN'T - NO MORE!'
The door creaked open. Snape stopped abruptly in his tracks.
Professor Brown had just walked in, a pile of books cradled in her arms.