Disclaimer: Wish they were.
Authors Notes: Many thanks for the reviews. As always they are greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if this story is AU yet. When I saw stone-faced Severus in GoF I began to wonder. Thank you all for reading. 200 reviews!Woo Hoo!
The pensieve scene with Snape shaking Harry and hurting his arm is from OoP. When I went back to reread it I hadn't remembered Snape being so rough.
excessivelyperky is my hero. Come on! Isn't she your hero too? Many thanks for all your hard work.
Enjoy
Chapter 19
Memories
Harry stood for a moment and watched the tour bus whoosh by. It had not taken him long after viewing a portion of Riddle's memories via Nagini's mind in the pensieve to realize that he could probably get back to Hogwarts the way they had come. Now upon returning to the little beach town with a mix of triumph and trepidation, Harry stepped out across the road.
Destroying Hufflepuff's cup had been a bit anticlimactic really, now that it was over. And as with so many of Harry's victories, more luck than skill was involved. Harry had plunged into Nagini's memories after seeing Snape tortured. He reasoned that if another Horcrux could be destroyed, Voldemort might be weakened again. The boy hadn't really expected to find anything he'd be able to solve right away, but decided to give it a try. After dumping the memories in to the pensieve, and giving them a bit of a stir, he recognized an image similar to one he had seen with the Headmaster.
Once again Harry found himself in the pensieve alongside a young Tom Riddle in the home of Hepzibah Smith and her house-elf, Hokey. Unlike the memories Harry had viewed with Dumbledore, there seemed to be a greater degree of separation. It was as though Harry were looking at the memories via a reflection in a mirror that was badly in need of re-silvering.
Miss Hepzibah was not present in the memory, but Riddle sat in the kitchen with Hokey as though they were old friends. It was obvious that Hokey was as much enamored of Riddle as her mistress was, and the man blatantly flattered the little creature.
"But Master Riddle is too kind," squeaked Hokey. "He shouldn't take his time just to visit Hokey."
"Why should I not, Hokey? We are friends." Riddle intoned, and the little elf smiled wide in pleasure.
When Hokey's back was turned Riddle let a few drops from a dark blue vial fall menacingly into Hepzibah's tea cup that the tiny elf was preparing on the service. Hokey said she loved it when Master Riddle visited her. He did not visit her mistress on these days. Master Riddle was just there for Hokey. It was like with other elves, friends of Hokey's, whose young masters had grown up and moved from their parent's homes. But the good ones always came back to visit their elves.
Harry had viewed the rest of the memory in a bit of a daze. So much of what he and the Headmaster had speculated turned out to be true. Hepzibah died from the poisoned tea served by Hokey later that afternoon. Riddle altered Hokey's memories after relieving the tiny elf of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup.
Harry watched in horrible fascination as Riddle used the murder of Miss Hepzibah to carve off a piece of his soul. After uttering a long, complex incantation, Riddle began to spasm and twitch as though he were undergoing a particularly vicious Cruciatus. Harry heard a sound like the breaking of a bone, and a wet suctioning noise like the tearing of flesh. Then a single shard, black as onyx and sharpened by the act of being broken, embedded itself invisibly into the golden locket.
"Only by fire shall you be destroyed," Riddle incanted, kissing the locket as he shook off the last of the crucio-like effects.
Viewing Riddle's memories via the snake's mind had been a bit terrifying, but it had definitely paid off with his trip to Hogwarts, Harry thought, as he made way back into the little beach town of Glenbeigh, Ireland, that was now alive with people. The bright little shops were all open for business. And as he passed the restaurant his stomach growled in mild protest at the smell of rashers, eggs, and roasted tomatoes. He should have thought to eat again at Hogwarts but had been too anxious to get back. Harry vaguely considered stopping to get a bite, but since he had neither galleons or Muggle money he kept walking. He briefly thought of transfiguring a few shells or pebbles as he stepped out onto the sand, but small objects changed back rather quickly. And a 50 pence coin might well change back to a mussel shell just as Harry was paying for his breakfast.
The next part of Nagini's memories Harry viewed made the boy wonder if Snape or Dumbledore had somehow seen the memory as well. It fit Snape's theory as to who had destroyed Slytherin's locket. Harry had moved forward through the memories and found himself observing Riddle at Borgin and Burkes. The burgeoning Dark Lord had been just about to cast a series of spells to protect the Horcrux, standing in the questionable privacy of the back storeroom of the shop. He started with a long incantation that would make anyone who spent time near the locket irrationally fearful of it and desperately desire to be away from the thing.
Ruldolphus Burke entered the storeroom before Riddle had he a chance to continue. The round little wizard was wildly pleased to see the young man had somehow recovered Slytherin's locket. Burke asked no questions as he admired the piece heartily.
"Well done, my boy. Well done." The dumpy wizard exclaimed, as he spirited the locket away, slapping Riddle affectionately on the back.
Riddle looked as though he would spit fire as he watched the plump little man walk away. The memories hadn't shown Burke destroy the locket, though Harry hadn't seen all of them yet. He had been too excited to have stumbled next upon where Riddle had hidden Hufflepuff's cup.
In the here and now Harry wondered if his success in destroying the little badger decorated goblet had done anything to improve Snape's situation. The boy hoped his theory was correct and that Voldemort would be weakened with the destroying of each Horcrux, and that it was not just the connection to Nagini that had made it happen last time.
Harry wondered if Snape had returned to the beach house. As he made his way through the passage in the cliffs, he found himself wishing for the man to be there when he arrived. He was optimistic that Snape had survived the Cruciatus intact, and Harry shuddered to think of the alternative. The boy quickened his pace across the sand. He had just entered the front room of the beach house when Snape abruptly appeared before him sprawled on the floor.
"Professor," Harry exclaimed, more pleased than he would have imagined, but he took an involuntary step back just the same. The boy cringed slightly when he got a good look at the pale bloodless face and pain filled eyes.
"Can I..." Harry began tentatively, reaching for the older wizard's arm.
"I believe I can manage, Potter," Snape responded, rather haughtily, while attempting to gain his knees.
"Right..." Harry watched in painful silence as the man got to his knees and then was racked by spasms as he fell to the floor again.
"Wingardium..." Harry began gently.
"Don't you dare, boy!" Snape snarled with such quiet, pain-filled, menace that Harry's wand stilled mid swish.
He bit his lip as he watched the Potions Master struggle to his knees again. This time Snape was able to pull himself up to a chair, before being assaulted by racking coughs. Harry watched in horror as little flecks of blood peppered the man's fist as he coughed against it. The boy took advantage of the noise to whisper a Veraverto, transfiguring the lounger into a Muggle wheelchair. He waited for the coughing to subside before he began to push Snape toward his room.
"I said, no, Potter," Snape protested, in a voice Harry would not have believed could sound so dangerous given the shape the man was in.
"Yes sir. Sorry," Harry replied nervously, though he continued to push the chair.
When they entered his bed chamber, Snape stared rather furiously, for all his pain, at the vials on his night table.
"I don't remember giving you permission to use my potions lab, Potter?" he stated in snide anguish, indicating the bottles of purple liquid.
For a minute, Harry wondered what had possessed him prepare a potion for this mean bastard. But then the boy shook slightly, remembering Snape's screams.
"Its Cruciatuserum." Harry explained unnecessarily, as he helped the older wizard lower himself painfully onto the bed.
"The color is off in all but this one," Snape responded, picking up one vial disdainfully. His body was again racked by spasms. Harry waited for the twitching to subside before he responded.
"I added sleeping draught and nerve fortifier to one, just sleeping draught to the next two, and the fourth is straight Cruciatuserum." Harry explained.
Snape arched his eyebrow severely.
"How do you know those combinations are compatible?" Snape sneered in a hard, almost suspicious, tone.
Harry almost told the older wizard he had read about it, but decided that sounded bizarrely like Hermione so he stopped himself.
"Because they all have the same base ingredient?" Harry offered nervously. Snape was making him a bit more tense than usual even though the man was so ill, or perhaps because he was so ill.
"Are you asking me or telling me, boy?" Snape returned, coughing up blood again.
"Telling you, sir?" Harry replied, well aware that it sounded distinctly like another question, as he eyed a new set of spasms with concern.
"How do you know which is which?" Snape scoffed after the worst of the twitching subsided.
Harry waved his hand over the bottles. Words floated in the air above, detailing the contents of each vial.
Snape looked at the boy as though he had just transformed into a manticore.
"What spell was that, Potter?" Snape demanded, and fell into another coughing fit.
Erm... Revealo?" the boy responded, picking up one of the bottles so the magical label could be more easily read.
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This time the Potions Master did not bother to point out that the boy's answer still sounded like a question, as he wiped his bloody hand on a pant leg. Apparently no one had bothered explain to Potter that you could not do a wandless and non-verbal Revealo. Snape appraised the boy pointedly, wondering how many other spells he had taught himself this summer that were impossible to learn.
"That will be all, Potter," Snape told him finally, and the boy looked at him in surprise.
Although the boy seemed to clearly catch on that he was being dismissed, he blatantly refused to move. Potter ran a frustrated hand through his untidy hair and placed the vial back on the night table. He flicked his wand impatiently at the chair and transfigured it back into a lounger. Harry gazed toward the door and hesitated slightly as his eyes caught sight of Snape's pensieve on the edge of the desk. Snape noticed it at the same time. The man knew his pensieve had most definitely been on the shelf, along with the antique vials in which he housed his favorite memories, when he had left that morning.
Potter turned around and indicated the pensieve. "Ah..." the boy began uncertainly. "I think we should talk about this later," Harry stuttered as though he thought pretending the use of the older wizard's pensieve was common practice was a good strategy. Snape turned his head toward the bottles, which held his memories and then let his gaze fall menacingly on Potter, indicating that perhaps it was all too commonplace.
"So help me boy if you have been messing about with my memories again I'll show you a hex you'll never forget," Snape threatened in cough-ravaged rage, while pointing a long finger at several ornate vials of varying color, size and shape.
"Your memor...?" the boy began in alarm. "Is that what those are? I mean...I didn't know what those were." Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't... I mean I didn't," the boy was starting to babble. "That is to say, I wouldn't do that again, sir." Snape was a bit surprised to hear such a response and looked into the boy eyes to discern the truth. He was astonished to find the boy's mind for once completely Occluded.
"You are Occluding your mind?" Snape demanded, more in amazement that the boy had managed to block his thoughts, than the notion that he might be hiding something.
"Am I?" Potter asked showing surprise himself. "I didn't know..." And with this dumfounded response the boy's shields suddenly dropped.
Snape saw an image of himself in his dungeon at Hogwarts. He had caught the boy in his pensieve. In horrified, pain racked fascination, Snape was pulled unwilling into the boy's mind. Snape watched as the image of himself tightly grasped Potter's arm, and screamed into the terrified young face. He shook the boy so hard that his glasses began to slip down his nose. After departing at top speed, in a spray of glass and cockroaches, Potter stopped to massage his much abused arm with a soft hiss.
Snape had not recalled being quite so harsh. The memory bounced forward and Potter was talking through the Floo to Lupin and Black, asking them to account to him for his father's behavior, demanding in a slightly anguished voice to know how James could have been that cruel...
"Occlude your mind, Potter." Snape ordered, when he caught his breath and balance. The memory was immediately shut off.
The boy met his eyes expectantly.
"Did I do it?" Potter wanted to know.
"You did," Snape affirmed in shaky confusion. Potter had been upset by his father's behavior. "We shall work on your control later."
"Brilliant..." a smile lit the boy's face.
"As to the unauthorized use of my pensieve," Snape began raspily, effectively removing the boy's smile.
"We should really talk about it later," the boy said again, a bit cheekily Snape thought. "You should have a bit of potion and rest. That way when we talk about what happened with the pensieve if you want to yell or hex me or anything you'll have your strength back."
"You examined Nagini's memories?" Snape demanded.
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "When I saw you being tortured I felt like Voldemort was laying a trap or something. I was able to shut him out too, and my scar stopped bleeding. When I saw your pensieve in here I thought there might be something in the memories that might help?"
"And was there?" Snape insisted.
"I dunno," Harry said cautiously. "Were his powers weakened again?"
Snape looked at the boy in awe. "You did not destroy and another Horcrux?" Snape asked with equal parts of dismay and admiration.
"I kinda think I did, Professor," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I'm fairly certain Kreacher destroyed Hufflepuff's cup for us."
"Potter...?" Snape said in clear confusion.
"Yeah. But like I said we should discuss it later after you have had a chance to rest. I think you should take this one first," the boy said indicating the potion which contained both sleeping draught and nerve fortifier.
Snape paused, making the boy squirm beneath a long hard glare before accepting the proffered potion and downing it in a gulp.
Harry pushed him gently back into the bed. He reached down to slip off the man's boots.
"I am perfectly capable..." Snape slurred a complaint.
"Right, sir. Sorry," Harry responded mildly, wrestling with the second boot.
"When I awake you will explain just what in the seven hells..." Snape began weakly before Harry cut him off.
"Later," Harry reminded mildly. "So you call yell and hex me. Remember?"
"Don't think I won't, boy..." Snape scoffed lightly as sleep threatened to overtake him.
"No, I don't think you won't, sir," Harry agreed as the man drifted off to sleep.
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Harry returned from his bedroom with his wandless magic text and allowed his hand to hover gently above Snape's form as he had done so recently with Malfoy. He sensed numerous tears in the soft tissue of the man's internal organs. Using the healing spell just as the book directed, he silently bade the tissue to mend. Harry was exhausted when he finished, but he thought it had done the trick. He would have to brew some magic replenisher for himself later, and perhaps some organ mending potion for Snape to reinforce his work.
Suddenly unsteady on his feet, Harry fell back into the chair and silently watched Snape sleep. As Harry settled himself into the lounger, he wondered if the man might really hex him when he awoke or worse. Harry's mind went unwillingly to the humiliating scene with Gryffindor's sword. Confused that he couldn't summon more anger about it, Harry was fairly certain that had been a one time occurrence. Still, Snape did seem to get the most angry at school when he thought a student was being reckless. And it was true that after realizing where Hufflepuff's cup was hidden, Harry hadn't gone to Hogwarts with much of a plan. Initially he'd only been going to look and see if the cup was there. Then he thought of calling Kreacher, and things moved fairly fast.
Harry had pushed himself out of the pensieve after the image in the storeroom with Burke. He gave the memories a stir hoping to skip ahead to the bit where the locket was destroyed. Instead Harry found himself in a scene of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle, who was no older than he had been in the last memory, was walking the Castle halls with a smiling Headmaster Armando Dippet.
"Remember when you used to take me to the kitchens, Headmaster," Riddle was speaking to Dippet in a sentimental way, "for cocoa, when I had bad dreams?"
Dippet smiled and nodded his head warmly.
"So kind of you to come and visit an old man, my boy," Dippet responded affectionately.
"No sir," Riddle said in a syrupy voice. "It is you who is kind to me. You always have been." Riddle stopped short, a boyish grin breaking his features.
"I've just had a delightful idea, sir." Riddle said mischievously. "Can we go to the kitchens now? It would be fun for old times sake."
Dippet acquiesced with a smile, and an indulgent grandfatherly chuckle.
It was plain to see that the house-elves were as enamored of Riddle as Hokey had been. It wasn't the way they reacted to Harry and Snape, plying them with food. It was like they were star struck and shy. Like the first years were with Harry. The boy watched the memory in dread as Riddle let his hand pass lightly over a distracted Dippet's cup of hot chocolate.
It must have been a different potion than he had used with Hepzibah, for Harry had never heard a rumor that Dippet had been murdered. After a hearty chat and the cocoa finished, the Headmaster begged off saying he was suddenly tired. Riddle claimed to want to visit a few other friends and Dippet gave him his leave to do so. Shaking his hand warmly, he told him he was welcome at Hogwarts anytime.
As Harry watched Riddle sit alone and sip his drink, he knew the exact moment that Dippet died. There was an eerie red gleam in Riddle's eyes, and he wore and oddly triumphant smirk. Riddle excused himself to the toilet and Harry watched in dismay as he repeated the process of depositing a newly severed Horcrux into Hufflepuff's cup. This time he did have time to add the protective curses. In addition to the same one he had placed on the locket, any wizard, save Riddle, who touched the cup would feel the effects of the Cruciatus curse torturing them and the Imperious not allowing them to put the cup down. Anyone trying to destroy the cup would be burned from the inside by an Incendio.
Riddle reentered the kitchen after his visit to the toilet, and told one of the little elves he had a gift for Hogwarts and the Headmaster. He told her that his work had allowed him to recover Hufflepuff's cup. They raised their eyes towards the ceiling above the four house tables that would send meals to the great hall. Magically suspended, and enclosed in glass cases, were the place settings for the Four Founders. They were complete with plates and cutlery, all designs unique to the particular founder. All had a drinking cup save Hufflepuff's. The badger design matched perfectly and it was easy to tell it was a set. In the memory, Riddle handed the elf the cup. And Harry exited the pensieve.
The boy had tried to apparate from several places inside and outside the beach house before realizing there must be some sort of barrier. Finally he sprinted to the spot on the road were he and Snape had entered the town. Almost immediately a tour bus appeared. And upon stepping through the door, Harry found himself on the other side of the painting of the beach house in Hogwarts kitchen.
It was extremely quiet, and none of the elves were about. Harry had no idea where they might be. He looked up at the Founders place settings. Hufflepuff's cup seemed identical to the one in the memory. The little glass cupboards floated perhaps thirteen feet in the air. Could it be that simple? Had Riddle really hidden it in such plain sight? Harry had a vague recollection of one of his visits to the kitchen of an elf on a ladder polishing one of the place settings. On a hunch he called for Kreacher who appeared immediately.
"Yes, Master," the disgruntled litte elf responded looking at Harry disdainfully.
"Kreacher, do the elves clean those?" Harry asked indicating the cupboard which held Hufflepuff's place setting.
"It's not Kreacher's turn, Master," the elf muttered. "Kreacher did it last month."
"You cleaned that last month?" Harry asked excitedly. "All of it?"
"Master's complaining about how hard Kreacher works," the elf muttered in an aside.
"No, no, Kreacher. I'm not. Would you mind fetching that goblet down?" Harry asked in mild trepidation.
"Master intends to make Kreacher do it over," the elf said climbing a golden ladder that suddenly appeared. "Poor Kreacher," the elf sighed. "Filthy Half-blood master!" he muttered to himself.
"Wait!" Harry called out before the elf could touch the cup. "Your certain you won't be hurt?" the boy asked anxiously.
"Master intends to punish Kreacher," the elf muttered pitifully. "As you wish, Master," Kreacher said grabbing hold of the cup, and making his way down the ladder.
Harry looked at the elf rather breathlessly.
"Now, Kreacher," Harry said cautiously. "Is there some way you can burn this?"
"Master means to punish Kreacher by making him sit in the oven," the elf muttered. "Oh, Kreacher hates that punishment most of all," he mumbled sadly. "But how did filthy Half-blood master know?"
"No, Kreacher," Harry interrupted impatiently. "I just want you to burn the cup. That all," he said emphatically. "If you feel burning it is harming you in anyway, you are to stop immediately. Is that clear?"
"Of course, Master," Kreacher responded a trifle shrewdly.
The elf snapped his long fingers and Harry watched while the goblet melted out of existence while resting on the palm of his hand.
After a few moments of awed silence. Harry shook himself and spoke.
"That will be all, Kreacher," he told the elf happily.
"Stupid Half-blood master," Kreacher mumbled as he walked away.
Harry gave a bit of a victory whoop as he skipped across the room to the painting and gleefully scratched the brass door knocker.
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Severus Snape awoke just as the sun was beginning to set. He was very aware of his body, and in particular how good it felt compared to when he had first lain down. He sat for several minutes in deep contemplation. The boy's potion seemed to have worked on his nerve endings and the worst of the spasms seemed to be over. It was obvious Potter had healed his internal injuries as well, and as the man coughed delicately against his fist he failed to produce any blood. He wasn't completely healed by any means, but he felt immeasurably better.
Snape was slightly startled by the sound of a soft whimper. He turned and was astonished to see the boy asleep in the lounger by his bed. Potter looked small and incredibly pale, and it was obvious he was in a fitful sleep. Snape sat up a bit too quickly and waited for the dizziness to subside before reaching out to the boy and gently pushing aside the dark hair to examine the lighting shaped scar.
"No, don't drink it, Headmaster," the boy whined. "It's poison." With a pang of guilt Snape realized the boy must be dreaming about the cave. But he was relieved to discover his scar was not bleeding and that he wasn't dreaming about the Dark Lord
"Potter," Snape said gently.
"Riddle's trying to poison you," the boy said more clearly. "Oh, Headmaster Dippet," he said sadly. "Poor Headmaster Dippet."
Snape had been wrong, the boy was dreaming about the Dark Lord. There had been rumors about how Dippet had died. The man looked on in quiet interest and let his gaze linger on the young face. A large wandless magic volume marked the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Snape resisted the urge to smooth the deeply furrowed brow. Who was this strange boy who was arrogant enough to take on the Dark Lord in bare feet and baggy pajama bottoms, yet whimpered like a pup at a bad dream? Severus suddenly couldn't figure out this careless, neglectful student who was abruptly competent enough to perform healing spells and brew complex potions. And had suddenly taken up brewing them for him of all people, in addition to sitting vigil by his bed. Snape listened to the sad little voice so full of empathy for a Headmaster he had never met, and tried to fight against the feeling of protectiveness that abruptly took hold inside him.
"Potter," he said, more sternly than he meant to.
The boy woke with a start. His untidy hair sticking out at odd angles.
"Wha...?" The boy said groggily, rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes and yawning widely. "Are you okay sir?" the boy asked, scratching himself.
Snape bit back a flip response and perhaps an admonishment regarding scratching oneself in the company of others.
"I am well, Potter. Thank you," he said civilly.
The boy paused mid-scratch and his eyes widened slightly at the mild tone before he recovered himself.
"You still don't look so good," the boy said frankly. "You should drink more potion," Potter suggested, yawning again.
"I have every intention of doing so, Potter," the older wizard replied. "And you will go down to the lab a brew a batch of magic replenisher," Snape told him. "Are you alert enough to accomplish that?"
"Sure," the boy said, coming to complete wakefulness and getting to his feet a trifle unsteadily.
"You are then to drink the potion and go rest in your room. I am certain your magic is weakened from the wandless healing."
"I was going to brew some, but I fell asleep."
"That was fairly obvious from the horrific snores and the great piles of drool."
"I was snoring?" the boy asked aghast, "I drool?" he wiped a hand across his mouth and glanced at the lounger.
"I'm certain you do, Potter." Snape said smartly.
"I do not drool," the boy said with some concern.
"Of course you do, Potter," Snape said firmly, enjoying the boy's unexpected discomfort with the topic. "Potion and then bed," Snape ordered, dismissing him.
He distinctly heard the boy mumble.
"I don't think I snore," Harry said as he made his way down the hall. The man fought off the urge to laugh as he opened up the Angelth for a chat with Albus.
Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming.