Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

Chapter 11: The Pensieve

by Iva1201

A/N: Betaed by excessivelyperky. Thank you!

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Motto:

"… he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…"

(from the first Occlumency lesson)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix," GB children version (2003) – p. 472

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"No, Potter," Snape denied softly. His words interrupted Harry's maelstrom of thoughts. "I don't desire revenge for that incident, as you put it. Not right now, anyway."

Harry tore his eyes from the Pensieve. What then? Why I am here and what do you want, you bastard? he thought. From what he saw, his face once again became an open book for Snape.

The man chuckled darkly, in reality not amused at all. Inwardly, Snape cursed Dumbledore for not having found the time to hammer at least some of his exceptional mind shielding skills into Potter's thick skull. What exactly, in the name of Merlin, were you doing with the boy during all those bloody study sessions you insisted on having last year, old man? Snape pensively stared at Potter's face, hoping to read his features once more. But the boy's mind was elsewhere, with the boy mulling over his current prospects.

Naturally, Snape sighed to himself. Either you don't think at all, Potter – or you brood over too many things at once. Gryffindor through and through – just like your sainted father and Black. How the Sorting Hat came to the idea you would do well in Slytherin is beyond me... Snape frowned at the memory of Potter sitting under the Hat. If the Occlumency lessons served no other purpose, he had learned quite a bit about Potter's past – something he wasn't always very happy about. Nevertheless, the man hoped that the knowledge would serve him well now, were he to succeed in his present task.

He gazed at Harry's face again – only to discover that the boy's mind was still preoccupied. Right then, the man thought, yet another thing I will have to drag out of you in a less pleasant way. We are in for a long night, Potter. I hope you are up to it.

Slowly, Snape motioned to the opposite side of the teacher's table and the chair by it. "Sit, Potter," he said in a commanding tone.

Harry was about to protest, to shout at the man that he couldn't make even a single step with that damned laming spell still effective – but Snape was faster.

A meticulous movement of his wand, and Harry was finally able to move. Not enough to run away as he hoped to do (provided the Room was not locked as he feared), but his legs – when he thought hard enough about them moving, carried him forward once again, and no longer requiring a prompt from Snape's side. Harry sighed in relief.

Snape raised an amused eyebrow. "Who would have thought the Golden Boy would find satisfaction in such small things," he remarked acerbically, bemusedly shaking his head. Then he expectantly looked at the chair opposite him.

When Harry even now failed to move, the Professor's eyes narrowed in sudden anger. Snape pointed at the offered chair with his still bared wand. "In there, Potter – if you would be so good."

Snape's face bore an expectant smirk, the man clearly savouring the idea of forcing Harry to sit. "You just need to think about your legs moving forward, Potter. Now, I know this may be difficult for likes of you – but, please, try." The Headmaster's voice was honey-sweet now, the man smirking ironically.

Boiling on the inside, Harry bit his lip to center himself – and experimentally made the first, small step forward, just as Snape had instructed. It took quite a lot out of him, both physically and mentally – his legs heavy as lead, his mind suddenly concentrating only on his legs' moving – but they indeed worked. Harry gave a small, self-satisfied smile – and immediately anxiously thought about how far the exit of the Room was from him. Would he be fast enough to get there – and out of here?

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape turning from him, probably looking for a chair of his own. For whatever reason, the man didn't summon it magically – but rather walked over to get one. Very slowly, Harry noted and shook his head in silent disbelief. This is too easy. Still, the boy had to take the chance.

Harry turned to the door, thankfully in the wall behind him rather than on Snape's side of the Room. He focused on it, summoned all his willpower – and step by step, forcing his knees up and down, he moved forward, steadily towards the threshold. The wild turmoil of his thoughts calmed and Harry focused only on his task. Foot up, bend the knee, move the thigh forward, foot down. And then with the other side. Foot up, bend the knee, move the thigh forward, foot down…

Abruptly, a quick idea crossed Harry's mind: Was this what Snape called clearing his mind? It reminds me quite a lot of the feeling I had before he released me from the Imperius… NO. Please, NO. It can't be so easy. Harry forced the disturbing thought away and concentrated again only on moving towards the ancient oak door. Just a few more steps… just a few more, he repeated to himself like a mantra, over and over again. Unfortunately, all his efforts were to be in vain – he simply wasn't fast enough.

Suddenly, Snape's bony fingers painfully closed around Harry's shoulder and the dark wizard tossed Harry back, towards the chair prepared for him. Harry noticed another chair sitting across the table now – positioned quite neatly, as if Snape hadn't rushed. Really strange, Harry thought, and refused to mull it over any further.

Once at the table, Snape forced Harry to sit down. Mumbling something about unteachable Gryffindors, the man secured Harry with invisible ties produced by his wand. For the moment, Harry didn't care – the boy still cheered his small victory a few moments ago. He had almost made it… Just wait when another chance offers itself, Snape! Now, I know I can make it…

Unbeknown to Harry, Snape cherished his accomplishment as well – if he wasn't very mistaken, this little adventure had quite sufficiently cleared Potter's thoughts and concentrated his mind. Secretly, Snape congratulated himself for the idea of letting Potter apply his mind for once. Aloud, however, he sneered: "That was the opposite direction, Potter. My, my, haven't they taught you in the Primary school what the difference was between forward and backward?"

The boy swallowed, anger rising in him. Snape had definitely the talent to rouse it in him. For once, Harry managed to suppress it and instead of barking an insult at the older man, he expectantly stared at him.

If Snape was surprised, he hid it well. Openly, he only nodded in satisfaction. "See, Potter, when you are cooperative, things can be really easy." He pulled out his own chair and sat down opposite to Harry, comfortably leaning back in his seat. The Pensieve glittered like silver on the table between them.

Snape raised his wand and nonverbally summoned the rune-decorated bowl to him. Harry, fascinated, watched how memory after memory were pulled from Snape's temple and stored in the Pensieve, the man eyeing him every so often, to see if he kept sitting obediently in his place behind the large desk – as if he could do anything else with the invisible restrains in place.

Finally, Snape appeared to be finished. Harry hazarded a glance at the surface of the Pensieve. To his astonishment, the horse-like face of aunt Petunia, much younger than Harry had ever seen her, came into his view there. Before he could get any detail, however, Snape banished the Pensieve, frowning. Harry understood that the man didn't intend for him to see what he did…

But before he could start wondering about what he saw, Snape interrupted his thoughts once again. "You are of age now, Potter," he stated emotionlessly, the previous frown replaced by a mocking smirk. "Would Dumbledore be still alive, he would probably insist I offer you also access to a Pensieve now… But, that would hardly serve my purpose, I fear. You will thus excuse me for not asking the Room to provide you a second Pensieve.

Oh," Snape paused upon seeing the eager look on Harry's face, "and forget about getting one by yourself. For whatever reason," he smirked good-naturedly, "the school chose to recognize me as its head. Even here, you cannot override my orders – I am sorry."

Harry couldn't decide if Snape was trying to ridicule him now – or make him angry so that the thoughts he needed to protect so desperately ended up surfacing. Whatever, the man certainly was succeeding in the later. Harry bit his lips so hard that it hurt.

Get hold of yourself, Harry, he thought. It can't be that difficult if this bastard can do it all the time – and Dumbledore thought you would be able to learn it. Yes, that's it, Harry settled on, Dumbledore believed you would be able to Occlude! No better time to prove him right.

Harry forced himself to suppress all the thoughts of Dumbledore betraying and using him. The minor hurts the old Headmaster caused him were nothing comparing to what Snape did or what the man was about to do now.

"I wouldn't want the Pensieve anyway," the boy refused calmly, his voice proud. "I wouldn't trust you not to look in it, Professor."

Like someone else did in the past, Potter, right? Snape smirked sardonically. "I can't say I blame you, Potter," he said menacingly. "People usually tend to expect their own behavior patterns from their counterparts." The man's pale lips widened in something what might have been intended a smile – but in reality looked more like a repulsive sneer. "Shall we begin then?" he readied his wand.

Harry graced him with a rebellious glance. "Certainly. Is there anything particular you would like to see, sir?" He stressed the title in a parody of their previous lessons.

"Oh yes, Harry," Snape paid back, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "there are a couple of questions I would like to have your answer to. The one thing I am interested in most is the one that dear old Dumbledore failed to entrust me with." He paused for the effect and when he went on, he underlined each syllable: "The Dark Lord's Horcruxes. So, Potter, how many of them are there precisely – and what exactly Dumbledore tasked you to do with them?" I am very curious if the old man told you what your scar is in reality...

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's forehead, ironically directly at the cursed scar. "Prepare yourself," he barked and Harry hurriedly tried to restore the peace he had felt only minutes ago. Now, that he knew (or rather gathered) what a cleared mind felt like, it was certainly easier – but still he succeeded only partly.

Sadly, Snape had never been one to offer him more time. "Legilimens," the man incanted softly a few moments later and without much resistance (not that Snape had expected anything else), he entered Harry's mind.

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