Chapter Nine.
Thank you once more for all the reviews. This will not be one of those fictions whereby Snape suddenly becomes sickeningly warm and cuddly...it simply would not happen in canon and wont happen in this story. Of course, it goes without saying that he will not get very far being as harsh and hateful as he currently is, but he will not be doling out hugs galore and suddenly becoming Harry's best friend. On with the story.
By the time Severus emerged from his introspection, several hours had passed and it was well past midday. Scowling across the empty study, he clapped his hands sharply to call his House Elf and stood up, roughly brushing imaginary dust specks from his robes. He had decided to do his utmost to ignore the extra presence in his home for the time being, opting instead to spend the majority of the day catching up on his Potions brewing and research. If there was one thing he sorely missed during the period he was teaching a horde of ignorant children, it was the opportunity to make full use of his formidable capacity for formulating new ideas for potions. He had, for some years, been sitting on an idea for a potion that would negate the effects of the Cruciatus curse, but had not, thus far, had the time to explore the possibilities. Now seemed the perfect opportunity and he was damned if he would allow the Potter brat to impose anymore than he already was. The child could occupy himself...goodness knows, if his ineptitude in Severus' classes was anything to go by, he needed all the study time he could get. He was torn from his thoughts by the grating voice of Minky, who had clearly been stood in the room for some minutes, too pathetically fearful to make her presence known.
"Master, Sir, what is Master wanting from Minky?"
Sweeping across the room towards the door, Severus called out instructions as he made his way out of the study, forcing the small creature to scuttle after him in a quite comical fashion.
"I shall be in my laboratory for the remainder of the day. Be sure to take Potter his lunch and let me know if there are any problems with the boy. Did he finish his breakfast?"
"Yes Master, nothing was left. Is Master wishing Minky to bring him food also?"
Coming to an abrupt halt as he reached a large door at the very rear of the hall, Severus retrieved a large, iron key from his robes and carefully unlocked it, roughly pushing it open before turning towards the Elf.
"I will take my meal in my laboratory...a simple sandwich will suffice. Aside from that, I am not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. Inform Potter that I will be collecting him for an Occlumency lesson at 7pm and that he is to be prepared. He will know what this means. I trust you will provide him a simple meal beforehand of rice and vegetables. He is not to have anything more solid than that over the next few days."
With one last, sharp glance at the rapidly nodding Minky, he swept through the door and retreated down an ornate, spiral staircase to the lower levels of the Manor where, presumably, his workrooms were.
In another part of the Manor, the Boy Who Lived sat in the same spot he had inhabited for the last four hours, his eyes glued to a Wizarding photograph of his first year at Hogwarts. In this picture, he stood waving, his two best friends, Hermione and Ron on either side, all grinning happily, without a care in the world. Had he only known then of the horrors he would face in the following years, his face might not have looked so obliviously innocent and carefree. No matter how many times he had tried to work out just why Voldemort chose him, he came no closer to getting to the heart of the matter. Sure, a prophecy had been made, but had not Voldemort known of this prophecy, would any of this have come to pass? He did not think so. And why him? Why was he chosen over Neville? How could anyone have known what powers he would possess when he was no more than a baby? It just didn't make sense to him and he did not believe for one moment that it was he, of all people, who had the ability to destroy the one who was destroying him. The way he saw things, the students of Hogwarts would be a lot safer without him than with him...he was determined to not be responsible for any more deaths, no matter the consequences for himself. He had spent much time thinking on death...wondering if he had the courage to leave all he knew in this life behind. Time and time again he had found one small part of himself that was unwilling to let go of life, no matter how hopeless and defeated he felt.
Placing his face in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried to clear all these thoughts from his head, preferring the numbness of an empty mind to the chaos of a full one. Within a matter of minutes his head dropped to the desk before him, coming to rest on the open photo album, as sleep pulled him into it's shadows once more.
He was abruptly awoken by someone prodding his right arm, which lay curled around his head, as though expectant of attack. Blinking slowly, Harry raised his head and turned to his right, finding himself staring at a pair of anxious, bulbous eyes. The house elf stared back, her gnarled hands firmly gripping a tray of food, which again, looked unappetising even to the hungriest of persons. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell and pushed his chair back as the tray was placed on the desk beside him. Minky, noticing this, folded her arms and pushed the tray further across the desk as if to make her point known.
"Harry Potter must eat or Master will not be pleased. Master is also saying that Harry Potter must prepare himself for an Occlumency lesson tonight. Master will be coming for Harry Potter at 7 O'clock and Harry Potter must be ready."
Allowing the Elf's words to simply wash over him, Harry responded by nodding silently then waited for the intrusion to make itself scarce. Minky stood for a few moments longer, just staring at the young Wizard then scurried away, closing the door quietly behind her.
Taking a deep breath, said boy turned back towards the desk, revulsion showing on his face as he glanced at the rice and pureed vegetables on the plate. Reaching forwards, he grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice, also provided, and quaffed half of it before placing it on the desk and snatching up the plate of steaming food. He followed the same routine as before, emptying the contents into the toilet, and hoping it didn't cause a blockage as he flushed it away. He just could not imagine actively engaging in the act of eating at the moment, the mere thought of it causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably. It wasn't that he particularly wished to starve himself to death, rather that he didn't think anything he did eat would remain put. Replacing the empty plate on the tray, he retreated to the bed and flopped down, suddenly feeling physically exhausted again. The room was not much warmer than it had been during the night and he shivered slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled onto his side, facing away from the door. Gazing sightlessly at the wall, he wondered if this was to be his life for the next few months and wished he could simply fall asleep and not wake up again.
Severus Snape cursed loudly as smoke billowed from the large, silver cauldron he had set up six hours ago. Snatching up an empty potion bottle, he swung his arm and watched as it shattered against a wall, sending fragments of glass in all directions. Slumping down on a tall, wooden stool, he glared in frustration at the green tinged contents of the cauldron and racked his brains for what he could be doing wrong. He never miscalculated a potion, but naturally, if he had made an error in his theory, the potion would also be flawed. Emptying the cauldron with a flick of his wand, he shoved the stool away and removed himself to a desk on the far side of the tidy laboratory, gathering together his scattered notes and perusing them with the utmost concentration. He pondered on the possibility of needing to reduce the number of Lacewings or maybe needing an increase of Pog Grass, visualising the resultant potency and coloration of the potion in his head as he went through all the options.
Time was running short, and he was now regretting his decision to give Potter a lesson, for it was already coming up to six O'clock and he had made little progress in his experimentation. Inwardly he cursed the child and spitefully wished a plethora of unhappy events to befall the boy. Severus Snape in a bad mood was not a pretty sight, and little put him in a viler mood than failing at what he considered to be his one true talent. His concentration lost, he stood abruptly, shoving the reams of notes from his desk, and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Emerging in the hall, he locked the door to his laboratory behind him and strode off towards his study to make preparations for the forthcoming lesson.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter remained curled up on his bed, his eyes lightly closed, though he was not asleep by any means. He was simply in a blissful state of numbness, having finally managed to still his thoughts and forget where he was and in whose home he was residing. It was an easy enough thing to achieve when left alone in silence for long periods of time, with nothing to remind him he existed. He had even managed to forget that the man who hated him most would be arriving to ransack his mind and dredge up the most painful and humiliating memories from the depths of his subconscious.
Severus marched along the passageway to Harry's room at exactly five minutes to seven, robes swelling out behind him as though caught by a windy gust. His mood had improved little in the previous hour and he was quite prepared to vent his frustrations on the potter boy should he fail to perform to expectations. Removing the locking charm, he harshly pushed the door open, striding in a few steps as it slammed against the wall behind. He sneered as the figure on the bed jumped slightly and sat up in a flustered manner, turning a pale, pinched face towards him. Glaring for a few moments, Severus took in the dishevelled, unwashed state of the the boy and the pile of clothing scattered across the floor, before allowing his harsh voice full reign.
"Well, don't just sit there, boy. It might be beyond your comprehension, but my time is precious and as such, I will not waste it standing here waiting for you. I only hope your skills at Occlumency exceed your skills for keeping yourself looking like some semblance of a human being, Potter. When we are finished, you will make some effort to clean that disgustingly dirty body of yours instead of wallowing in self pity"
He watched as his student slid off the bed, eyes averted to the ground, and made his way haltingly towards where Severus stood. With a final glance around the chamber, Severus turned about and led the way through the passage and down the staircase, steadfastly ignoring the sounds of dragging feet and stumbles behind him.
Harry kept his eyes glued to the ground as he traipsed after the dark form before him, only looking up occasionally to avoid walking into anything. He felt terribly weak and his legs shook with each step, as though he had been afflicted with some form of palsy. Gripping the banister tightly, he carefully descended the staircase, catching himself a few times as he lost his footing and stumbled clumsily. Upon reaching the bottom, he was led into a large study, obviously chosen for it's lack of furnishings and breakables. Passing Snape, who had paused to close the door, he ambled to the centre of the room and stood still, his face not reflecting anything but the blankness he had composed it into. Inside, his gut was roiling and he was desperately battling to clear the thoughts that now seemed determined to make an appearance. It was almost as though his mind, in bringing so many images up, was challenging Harry to be able to prevent what was to come. Closing his eyes, he tried to make some attempt at focussing, but failed miserably, only making himself waver slightly as a dizziness overtook him. startling as Snape snapped at him to have his wand at the ready, he hastily pulled said item from his Jeans pocket and raised his head to look at his Professor.
Snape stood opposite him, a fierce glint in his eye that promised trouble if Harry failed to show any improvement on last year. The man still towered over him by a good eight inches, seeming at this point in time as some cruel beast just waiting to tear him apart and rip away the last shreds of his sanity. Gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, Harry placed his feet slightly apart and waited for what he knew was to come, even as his body trembled minutely in a fear he had not succeeded in repressing.
"Legilimens", Snape hissed out.
Harry did not stand a chance. His mind was immediately filled with a stream of images, passing through in rapid succession like some ill-conceived horror film. He did not even get the privilege of it being just the usual childhood images which he had grown accustomed to. Of course, there were the usual memories of Harry curled up in the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley punching him a few times and his Uncle spitting out the name 'Freak' in his face, but more came after. It went straight for the jugular, bringing forth memories of the battle at the Ministry, Sirius falling through that veil, his eyes wide in horror, Harry casting the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort announcing his arrival, Harry about to...No, no, he could not allow that to be seen.
"NO!", yelled Harry, as he pushed with what little strength he had left, crashing heavily to his knees and panting as the spell was abruptly ended. He lifted his sweat soaked face to see a livid Severus Snape glaring down at him and crawled backwards slightly as the man advanced on him, crying out as he found himself yanked roughly to his feet by his collar.
"Once more, Potter, you have shown yourself to be incapable of the simplest of tasks. Did I not give instructions that you were to prepare for this lesson, yet I am once more forced to watch pathetic scenes of the pathetic Boy Who Lived and his pathetic life. Do you want everyone around you to die? Is that it? You seem to be doing an incredibly competent job of it so far, don't you? Has the mutt's death taught you nothing at all, you stupid boy? Answer me!", Severus spat, shaking the boy in his grip harshly and ignoring the small whimper that escaped his lips.
Harry's insides filled with scorching heat and bitter bile trailed its way up to his throat as he shut his eyes tightly against the anger of the other man. It was a hard enough blow to realise for himself that he was becoming a champion murderer but to hear it stated so plainly and to be reminded of just how weak and useless he was sent him into turmoil. He couldn't think...he just wanted to run away and end it all...stop the excruciating pain he was feeling inside. It was agony. He stumbled backwards as he was abruptly released and finally dared a quick look at the furious man who stood feet from him.
Snape was glaring at him with a look so loathing, so hateful, that all at once, Harry felt very small and very stupid. The next words came as no surprise, for he had heard them so often, his response to them was well practised and automatic.
"Get out of my sight, Potter. You make me sick", Snape snapped, already striding past Harry towards his desk.
Not needing telling twice, Harry stumbled to the door and exited, making his way back up to his chamber. It did not occur to him to flee the house or to explore while he had the opportunity. He just wanted to get back to his room as fast as he could and stop the pain racing through his body.
Severus sat down at his desk and slammed his fists into the wood, causing the ink bottle to overturn and papers to fly off haphazardly. To say he was livid was an understatement. If Potter didn't learn to protect his mind soon, it would not only be a disaster for himself, but also a great danger for the entire world, Wizarding and Muggle. He could not comprehend why the boy was finding it so difficult to occlude his mind, considering he had already proved he could hide his emotions when needs be. The Dark Lord had already proved his astonishing competence in breaking into Potter's mind and Severus knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again...after all, so much useful information could be gleaned from such unguarded territory. As he calmed down, he tried to shove back the guilt that made its presence known when he recalled the words he had spoken. He realised belatedly that these were the worst things he could have said to a depressed teenager, especially one who already showed signs of blaming himself wholeheartedly for his Godfather's death. His wrath did a fine job of concealing the concern he felt at seeing one of his students in such a poor physical state. The large part of him thought the boy a selfish little imbecile for causing the Headmaster, and in time, his friends so much concern, but a small part understood the reasons he was as he was. Sighing, Severus extricated himself from his chair and left the study, crossing the hall and disappearing through another door into the sanctuary of his library.
Harry paced his room, his hands clenched in tight fists as his teacher's words repeated themselves in his mind, mocking him and daring him to disagree. He truly hated himself at this point as the extent of his weakness struck him solidly with it's reality. He was pathetic...he was a freak...he had been responsible for several deaths, and he could not deal with the pain of that knowledge. His insides felt cold and he started to breath rapidly as he gasped for air, choking on his misery and the reality of just how alone he really was. Dry eyed, he swiftly headed towards the bed and heaved up the mattress, retrieving his knife and blindly making his way to the bathroom. He stood before the remaining pieces of the mirror and stared in revulsion at the face reflected there, feeling an overwhelming desperation weave its way to his surface. Gripping the smooth handle of the knife, he turned away and held out his arm, inner wrist facing towards him, veins standing out clearly against his paper-thin skin. Pressing the sharp blade against the most prominent vein, he tightly closed his eyes and slashed downwards, the knife slipping from his hands as blood began to pour freely from the wound.
Nausea overtook him and as he opened his eyes, his vision clouded over, vague black spots dancing fuzzily. Looking down, his heart almost stopped in sudden fear as he saw the damage he had done and the blood that now was almost spurting from the wound. Tears started trailing down his cheeks as he realised he might be dead within minutes and no one would know for maybe hours. Panic gripped him even as blackness started creeping into the sides of his eyes and he stumbled from the bathroom, now whimpering in fear as he grabbed hold of the desk, desperately fighting the impending darkness. With one shuddering sob, he keeled over, the pull of his body wrenching the desk over on top of him with a resounding crash.
In the library, Severus dropped the empty glass he was holding as he heard the loud thud from the floor above. Standing up abruptly, the book in his lap falling to the floor, he hurredly strode out of the vast, book-lined room, a sense of foreboding overcoming him as he broke into a run once in the hall. Racing towards the stairs he almost collided with Minky who had obviously also heard the loud noise and fell backwards, a look of fear shining in her wide eyes. Ignoring the Elf, Severus took the stairs two at a time, and turned into the passageway, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the end room. With a few shouted words, the door swung open and he entered, his eyes automatically drawn to the right where Harry Potter now lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood. Realising almost instantly what the boy had done, the man strode over and hauled the desk aside, before kneeling down and carefully pulling the boy to lay across his thighs. Snatching both small hands, he quickly located the gaping wound on the left wrist and clamped his hand firmly over it, paling at the sensation of blood pulsing against his palm.
Almost all colour had drained from the child's face and his lips were taking on a blue tinge. Noticing the tear tracks down the sunken cheeks, a horrified Severus Snape tightened his grip on the boy's wrist as he rasped out a few words.
"Merlin, What have you done to yourself, Potter"
There was no answer.
Thank you once more for all the reviews. This will not be one of those fictions whereby Snape suddenly becomes sickeningly warm and cuddly...it simply would not happen in canon and wont happen in this story. Of course, it goes without saying that he will not get very far being as harsh and hateful as he currently is, but he will not be doling out hugs galore and suddenly becoming Harry's best friend. On with the story.
By the time Severus emerged from his introspection, several hours had passed and it was well past midday. Scowling across the empty study, he clapped his hands sharply to call his House Elf and stood up, roughly brushing imaginary dust specks from his robes. He had decided to do his utmost to ignore the extra presence in his home for the time being, opting instead to spend the majority of the day catching up on his Potions brewing and research. If there was one thing he sorely missed during the period he was teaching a horde of ignorant children, it was the opportunity to make full use of his formidable capacity for formulating new ideas for potions. He had, for some years, been sitting on an idea for a potion that would negate the effects of the Cruciatus curse, but had not, thus far, had the time to explore the possibilities. Now seemed the perfect opportunity and he was damned if he would allow the Potter brat to impose anymore than he already was. The child could occupy himself...goodness knows, if his ineptitude in Severus' classes was anything to go by, he needed all the study time he could get. He was torn from his thoughts by the grating voice of Minky, who had clearly been stood in the room for some minutes, too pathetically fearful to make her presence known.
"Master, Sir, what is Master wanting from Minky?"
Sweeping across the room towards the door, Severus called out instructions as he made his way out of the study, forcing the small creature to scuttle after him in a quite comical fashion.
"I shall be in my laboratory for the remainder of the day. Be sure to take Potter his lunch and let me know if there are any problems with the boy. Did he finish his breakfast?"
"Yes Master, nothing was left. Is Master wishing Minky to bring him food also?"
Coming to an abrupt halt as he reached a large door at the very rear of the hall, Severus retrieved a large, iron key from his robes and carefully unlocked it, roughly pushing it open before turning towards the Elf.
"I will take my meal in my laboratory...a simple sandwich will suffice. Aside from that, I am not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. Inform Potter that I will be collecting him for an Occlumency lesson at 7pm and that he is to be prepared. He will know what this means. I trust you will provide him a simple meal beforehand of rice and vegetables. He is not to have anything more solid than that over the next few days."
With one last, sharp glance at the rapidly nodding Minky, he swept through the door and retreated down an ornate, spiral staircase to the lower levels of the Manor where, presumably, his workrooms were.
In another part of the Manor, the Boy Who Lived sat in the same spot he had inhabited for the last four hours, his eyes glued to a Wizarding photograph of his first year at Hogwarts. In this picture, he stood waving, his two best friends, Hermione and Ron on either side, all grinning happily, without a care in the world. Had he only known then of the horrors he would face in the following years, his face might not have looked so obliviously innocent and carefree. No matter how many times he had tried to work out just why Voldemort chose him, he came no closer to getting to the heart of the matter. Sure, a prophecy had been made, but had not Voldemort known of this prophecy, would any of this have come to pass? He did not think so. And why him? Why was he chosen over Neville? How could anyone have known what powers he would possess when he was no more than a baby? It just didn't make sense to him and he did not believe for one moment that it was he, of all people, who had the ability to destroy the one who was destroying him. The way he saw things, the students of Hogwarts would be a lot safer without him than with him...he was determined to not be responsible for any more deaths, no matter the consequences for himself. He had spent much time thinking on death...wondering if he had the courage to leave all he knew in this life behind. Time and time again he had found one small part of himself that was unwilling to let go of life, no matter how hopeless and defeated he felt.
Placing his face in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried to clear all these thoughts from his head, preferring the numbness of an empty mind to the chaos of a full one. Within a matter of minutes his head dropped to the desk before him, coming to rest on the open photo album, as sleep pulled him into it's shadows once more.
He was abruptly awoken by someone prodding his right arm, which lay curled around his head, as though expectant of attack. Blinking slowly, Harry raised his head and turned to his right, finding himself staring at a pair of anxious, bulbous eyes. The house elf stared back, her gnarled hands firmly gripping a tray of food, which again, looked unappetising even to the hungriest of persons. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell and pushed his chair back as the tray was placed on the desk beside him. Minky, noticing this, folded her arms and pushed the tray further across the desk as if to make her point known.
"Harry Potter must eat or Master will not be pleased. Master is also saying that Harry Potter must prepare himself for an Occlumency lesson tonight. Master will be coming for Harry Potter at 7 O'clock and Harry Potter must be ready."
Allowing the Elf's words to simply wash over him, Harry responded by nodding silently then waited for the intrusion to make itself scarce. Minky stood for a few moments longer, just staring at the young Wizard then scurried away, closing the door quietly behind her.
Taking a deep breath, said boy turned back towards the desk, revulsion showing on his face as he glanced at the rice and pureed vegetables on the plate. Reaching forwards, he grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice, also provided, and quaffed half of it before placing it on the desk and snatching up the plate of steaming food. He followed the same routine as before, emptying the contents into the toilet, and hoping it didn't cause a blockage as he flushed it away. He just could not imagine actively engaging in the act of eating at the moment, the mere thought of it causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably. It wasn't that he particularly wished to starve himself to death, rather that he didn't think anything he did eat would remain put. Replacing the empty plate on the tray, he retreated to the bed and flopped down, suddenly feeling physically exhausted again. The room was not much warmer than it had been during the night and he shivered slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled onto his side, facing away from the door. Gazing sightlessly at the wall, he wondered if this was to be his life for the next few months and wished he could simply fall asleep and not wake up again.
Severus Snape cursed loudly as smoke billowed from the large, silver cauldron he had set up six hours ago. Snatching up an empty potion bottle, he swung his arm and watched as it shattered against a wall, sending fragments of glass in all directions. Slumping down on a tall, wooden stool, he glared in frustration at the green tinged contents of the cauldron and racked his brains for what he could be doing wrong. He never miscalculated a potion, but naturally, if he had made an error in his theory, the potion would also be flawed. Emptying the cauldron with a flick of his wand, he shoved the stool away and removed himself to a desk on the far side of the tidy laboratory, gathering together his scattered notes and perusing them with the utmost concentration. He pondered on the possibility of needing to reduce the number of Lacewings or maybe needing an increase of Pog Grass, visualising the resultant potency and coloration of the potion in his head as he went through all the options.
Time was running short, and he was now regretting his decision to give Potter a lesson, for it was already coming up to six O'clock and he had made little progress in his experimentation. Inwardly he cursed the child and spitefully wished a plethora of unhappy events to befall the boy. Severus Snape in a bad mood was not a pretty sight, and little put him in a viler mood than failing at what he considered to be his one true talent. His concentration lost, he stood abruptly, shoving the reams of notes from his desk, and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Emerging in the hall, he locked the door to his laboratory behind him and strode off towards his study to make preparations for the forthcoming lesson.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter remained curled up on his bed, his eyes lightly closed, though he was not asleep by any means. He was simply in a blissful state of numbness, having finally managed to still his thoughts and forget where he was and in whose home he was residing. It was an easy enough thing to achieve when left alone in silence for long periods of time, with nothing to remind him he existed. He had even managed to forget that the man who hated him most would be arriving to ransack his mind and dredge up the most painful and humiliating memories from the depths of his subconscious.
Severus marched along the passageway to Harry's room at exactly five minutes to seven, robes swelling out behind him as though caught by a windy gust. His mood had improved little in the previous hour and he was quite prepared to vent his frustrations on the potter boy should he fail to perform to expectations. Removing the locking charm, he harshly pushed the door open, striding in a few steps as it slammed against the wall behind. He sneered as the figure on the bed jumped slightly and sat up in a flustered manner, turning a pale, pinched face towards him. Glaring for a few moments, Severus took in the dishevelled, unwashed state of the the boy and the pile of clothing scattered across the floor, before allowing his harsh voice full reign.
"Well, don't just sit there, boy. It might be beyond your comprehension, but my time is precious and as such, I will not waste it standing here waiting for you. I only hope your skills at Occlumency exceed your skills for keeping yourself looking like some semblance of a human being, Potter. When we are finished, you will make some effort to clean that disgustingly dirty body of yours instead of wallowing in self pity"
He watched as his student slid off the bed, eyes averted to the ground, and made his way haltingly towards where Severus stood. With a final glance around the chamber, Severus turned about and led the way through the passage and down the staircase, steadfastly ignoring the sounds of dragging feet and stumbles behind him.
Harry kept his eyes glued to the ground as he traipsed after the dark form before him, only looking up occasionally to avoid walking into anything. He felt terribly weak and his legs shook with each step, as though he had been afflicted with some form of palsy. Gripping the banister tightly, he carefully descended the staircase, catching himself a few times as he lost his footing and stumbled clumsily. Upon reaching the bottom, he was led into a large study, obviously chosen for it's lack of furnishings and breakables. Passing Snape, who had paused to close the door, he ambled to the centre of the room and stood still, his face not reflecting anything but the blankness he had composed it into. Inside, his gut was roiling and he was desperately battling to clear the thoughts that now seemed determined to make an appearance. It was almost as though his mind, in bringing so many images up, was challenging Harry to be able to prevent what was to come. Closing his eyes, he tried to make some attempt at focussing, but failed miserably, only making himself waver slightly as a dizziness overtook him. startling as Snape snapped at him to have his wand at the ready, he hastily pulled said item from his Jeans pocket and raised his head to look at his Professor.
Snape stood opposite him, a fierce glint in his eye that promised trouble if Harry failed to show any improvement on last year. The man still towered over him by a good eight inches, seeming at this point in time as some cruel beast just waiting to tear him apart and rip away the last shreds of his sanity. Gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, Harry placed his feet slightly apart and waited for what he knew was to come, even as his body trembled minutely in a fear he had not succeeded in repressing.
"Legilimens", Snape hissed out.
Harry did not stand a chance. His mind was immediately filled with a stream of images, passing through in rapid succession like some ill-conceived horror film. He did not even get the privilege of it being just the usual childhood images which he had grown accustomed to. Of course, there were the usual memories of Harry curled up in the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley punching him a few times and his Uncle spitting out the name 'Freak' in his face, but more came after. It went straight for the jugular, bringing forth memories of the battle at the Ministry, Sirius falling through that veil, his eyes wide in horror, Harry casting the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort announcing his arrival, Harry about to...No, no, he could not allow that to be seen.
"NO!", yelled Harry, as he pushed with what little strength he had left, crashing heavily to his knees and panting as the spell was abruptly ended. He lifted his sweat soaked face to see a livid Severus Snape glaring down at him and crawled backwards slightly as the man advanced on him, crying out as he found himself yanked roughly to his feet by his collar.
"Once more, Potter, you have shown yourself to be incapable of the simplest of tasks. Did I not give instructions that you were to prepare for this lesson, yet I am once more forced to watch pathetic scenes of the pathetic Boy Who Lived and his pathetic life. Do you want everyone around you to die? Is that it? You seem to be doing an incredibly competent job of it so far, don't you? Has the mutt's death taught you nothing at all, you stupid boy? Answer me!", Severus spat, shaking the boy in his grip harshly and ignoring the small whimper that escaped his lips.
Harry's insides filled with scorching heat and bitter bile trailed its way up to his throat as he shut his eyes tightly against the anger of the other man. It was a hard enough blow to realise for himself that he was becoming a champion murderer but to hear it stated so plainly and to be reminded of just how weak and useless he was sent him into turmoil. He couldn't think...he just wanted to run away and end it all...stop the excruciating pain he was feeling inside. It was agony. He stumbled backwards as he was abruptly released and finally dared a quick look at the furious man who stood feet from him.
Snape was glaring at him with a look so loathing, so hateful, that all at once, Harry felt very small and very stupid. The next words came as no surprise, for he had heard them so often, his response to them was well practised and automatic.
"Get out of my sight, Potter. You make me sick", Snape snapped, already striding past Harry towards his desk.
Not needing telling twice, Harry stumbled to the door and exited, making his way back up to his chamber. It did not occur to him to flee the house or to explore while he had the opportunity. He just wanted to get back to his room as fast as he could and stop the pain racing through his body.
Severus sat down at his desk and slammed his fists into the wood, causing the ink bottle to overturn and papers to fly off haphazardly. To say he was livid was an understatement. If Potter didn't learn to protect his mind soon, it would not only be a disaster for himself, but also a great danger for the entire world, Wizarding and Muggle. He could not comprehend why the boy was finding it so difficult to occlude his mind, considering he had already proved he could hide his emotions when needs be. The Dark Lord had already proved his astonishing competence in breaking into Potter's mind and Severus knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again...after all, so much useful information could be gleaned from such unguarded territory. As he calmed down, he tried to shove back the guilt that made its presence known when he recalled the words he had spoken. He realised belatedly that these were the worst things he could have said to a depressed teenager, especially one who already showed signs of blaming himself wholeheartedly for his Godfather's death. His wrath did a fine job of concealing the concern he felt at seeing one of his students in such a poor physical state. The large part of him thought the boy a selfish little imbecile for causing the Headmaster, and in time, his friends so much concern, but a small part understood the reasons he was as he was. Sighing, Severus extricated himself from his chair and left the study, crossing the hall and disappearing through another door into the sanctuary of his library.
Harry paced his room, his hands clenched in tight fists as his teacher's words repeated themselves in his mind, mocking him and daring him to disagree. He truly hated himself at this point as the extent of his weakness struck him solidly with it's reality. He was pathetic...he was a freak...he had been responsible for several deaths, and he could not deal with the pain of that knowledge. His insides felt cold and he started to breath rapidly as he gasped for air, choking on his misery and the reality of just how alone he really was. Dry eyed, he swiftly headed towards the bed and heaved up the mattress, retrieving his knife and blindly making his way to the bathroom. He stood before the remaining pieces of the mirror and stared in revulsion at the face reflected there, feeling an overwhelming desperation weave its way to his surface. Gripping the smooth handle of the knife, he turned away and held out his arm, inner wrist facing towards him, veins standing out clearly against his paper-thin skin. Pressing the sharp blade against the most prominent vein, he tightly closed his eyes and slashed downwards, the knife slipping from his hands as blood began to pour freely from the wound.
Nausea overtook him and as he opened his eyes, his vision clouded over, vague black spots dancing fuzzily. Looking down, his heart almost stopped in sudden fear as he saw the damage he had done and the blood that now was almost spurting from the wound. Tears started trailing down his cheeks as he realised he might be dead within minutes and no one would know for maybe hours. Panic gripped him even as blackness started creeping into the sides of his eyes and he stumbled from the bathroom, now whimpering in fear as he grabbed hold of the desk, desperately fighting the impending darkness. With one shuddering sob, he keeled over, the pull of his body wrenching the desk over on top of him with a resounding crash.
In the library, Severus dropped the empty glass he was holding as he heard the loud thud from the floor above. Standing up abruptly, the book in his lap falling to the floor, he hurredly strode out of the vast, book-lined room, a sense of foreboding overcoming him as he broke into a run once in the hall. Racing towards the stairs he almost collided with Minky who had obviously also heard the loud noise and fell backwards, a look of fear shining in her wide eyes. Ignoring the Elf, Severus took the stairs two at a time, and turned into the passageway, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the end room. With a few shouted words, the door swung open and he entered, his eyes automatically drawn to the right where Harry Potter now lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood. Realising almost instantly what the boy had done, the man strode over and hauled the desk aside, before kneeling down and carefully pulling the boy to lay across his thighs. Snatching both small hands, he quickly located the gaping wound on the left wrist and clamped his hand firmly over it, paling at the sensation of blood pulsing against his palm.
Almost all colour had drained from the child's face and his lips were taking on a blue tinge. Noticing the tear tracks down the sunken cheeks, a horrified Severus Snape tightened his grip on the boy's wrist as he rasped out a few words.
"Merlin, What have you done to yourself, Potter"
There was no answer.
