Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or the universe. I am not writing this fic for a profit. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Irish Eyes

Chapter Six: Let the Mind Games Begin!

"Those can't be my memories." Bridgette mumbled after Professor Snape called off the spell. "The only memories that were really mine were the memories of Daniel in the fourth form, and our trip to New York City. The ones with the Dark Lord… I don't ever recall even seeing him before."

"That is what he hoped for. The amnesia would confuse you as to which memories were real and which were false. Why is he using you, though?"

"I don't know, but I sure wish he would quit. It's rather annoying not knowing which memories are actually mine."

"I will have to speak with the headmaster. You must try harder if you want the Dark Lord to stop. This is the same problem Potter had. Only his was born out of arrogance." Snape lifted his wand. "Legilimens!"

Again, the pressure… and more memories came back. Swimming with friends over summer breaks… Christmases with family… the Dark Lord lifting his wand in his frail hands, and then a flash of green light…

"My mother is NOT dead!" Bridgette screamed. This time, she let her anger control what was going on in her mind, and she used it to force Snape out. It forced him out so hard, he flew backwards and landed on his bottom.

"Much better." He said. "Although, I could have done without the last bit."

"Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine. Hopefully it will have the same effect on the Dark Lord." Snape appraised her. She wasn't much to look at. She had shoulder length auburn hair, emerald green eyes, glasses. Her face was round, with an upturned nose dotted with freckles. She looked almost like a cross between… no. It was merely coincidence that she looked like a hybrid of Lily Potter and Arthur Weasley. He chuckled to himself. They weren't even in the same year.

"What's wrong, Professor?"

"Nothing. I think that's enough for today." He stood up slowly. "Do you know about…?" He started to ask her if she knew about Harry Potter's parents, but thought better of it. After all, it was merely coincidence.

Bridgette thanked Professor Snape for the lesson and left his classroom, feeling very weird. After everything she'd heard about Professor Snape, she didn't think he was all that bad. After all, he was willing to take the time to give her Occlumency lessons, which would probably prove quite useful later on in life. And he'd never really snapped at her for anything. She did feel a bit uneasy, having someone that deep inside her mind, seeing her memories. It would be worse if it were The Dark Lord, she told herself, and she shook off the feeling. At dinner, she told Hermione, Ron and Harry about her lesson with Snape.

"You got off lucky, then." Harry said, tearing into a chicken leg after an especially trying Quidditch practice. "Maybe it's because he doesn't hate you?"

"Oh, come off it, Harry." Hermione said. "He doesn't hate you."

"If that's not hate, I would seriously not want to be someone he loved." Ron said darkly.

Bridgette had nothing to say on the subject. Instead, she began to write down the real memories that had come back to her during her lesson. "Just in case." She said, when Ron questioned her about it. During Transfiguration that Monday, McGonagall asked Bridgette to go see Dumbledore. On her way out, McGonagall handed her a scrap of parchment. Bridgette read it in her head. It was the password to Dumbledore's office. Of course. She thought. Where else would they meet? The Astronomy tower?