Of Snake Bites and Dittany Cures

by Iva1201

Chapter 12: Revealing your Secrets

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A/N: Many thanks to excessivelyperky for betaing and improving this for me!

Enjoy. (-:

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Hogwarts

Christmas Day 1997

Snape entered Potter's mind with no expectations at all. If – or rather when, he resignedly corrected himself – the boy made no improvement now that he had been shown what was expected out of him (a luxury young Severus Snape had not been offered by either of his hugely demanding masters), then his next action would be simple.

He would search the boy's mind for all he knew about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes. (Snape inwardly shuddered again at the thought of their possibly great number, knowing the Dark Lord's attitude towards killing) – and then… Then, he would need to plant a few false memories of this night in Potter's head – and erase the true recollections so that the boy wouldn't give him and his real intentions away.

Snape briefly considered even fully Oblivating the boy where the Horcruxes were concerned – but almost immediately remembered to take in account the two noisy friends awaiting Potter's return in the Forest of Dean. No doubt the boy in his never-ending stupidity shared even this highlydangerous and clandestine piece of information with them.

Snape sighed. No, the boy needed to maintain the precarious knowledge. He couldn't afford any more mistakes. It fully sufficed that he had left the compromising memory vial with Granger – he still felt exceedingly uncomfortable over that act…

As he ruminated, Snape didn't notice the new resistance from Potter's mind to his intrusion. It only occurred to him the moment he began to search for memories relating to the Dark Lord's damned soul vessels. Potter had finally! attempted to Occlude his mind and clearly had – if still only to a degree – succeeded in it. The wild stream of mostly disturbing memories of the boy-hero's childhood Snape had become used to from their past lessons didn't appear this night (or actually rather today if one considered his use of the Time Turner).

No, the stream of Potter's recollections was slowed down for once; Snape could feel the boy's struggle to keep him out. Considering his potency in Legilimency that rivaled both the Dark Lord's and even Dumbledore's skill, he wasn't surprised the boy couldn't show him out yet – but, Snape almost smiled, it was certainly a start. About time.

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Harry attempted to keep his mind free of thoughts. He really tried to do his best – but Snape still entered his mind with brutal ease. What now? he thought frantically, his mind surprisingly still clear. How was he to protect the secrets Dumbledore had entrusted him with? How when he had no wand?

Despairing, Harry recalled what Snape had once told him back when they still had Remedial Potions lessons together. 'You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand…' Funny how clearly he suddenly recalled the instruction! The clearing of mind apparently worked, Harry noted, upset. Better not to dwell on it, he thought and forcefully brushed the thought of Sirius dying needlessly that threatened to overcome him aside.

Right, Harry, he told himself to concentrate on the here and now, expel the bastard with your mind only. But – how? How am I, by Merlin, supposed to accomplish that?

If he recalled correctly, the only time he had ever been able to force Snape out of his head was when the bastard was about to view the scene of him kissing Cho. But Harry wasn't inclined to offer any more private memories like this to the bastard. So that course of action was out of question, too…

Harry's thoughts were disrupted by Snape's pressing for a memory; the man's mind was firmly set on getting as much information on Horcruxes out of him as possible. The boy was startled by the sudden vehemence – this time Snape clearly wasn't going to thoughtlessly rummage through his unpleasant childhood memories. No, today the man's mind was persistently brushing against his – pressing for any information Harry had on Voldemort's soul vessels. In particularity, he wanted to know – needed to know, Harry felt the urgency – their number.

Number – Harry forced all his other thoughts aside and tried to distract the man. Number – number – number, his mind was full of the word – and yet, yet Snape still managed to force his way to the memory stream Harry was used to seeing from their previous lessons.

The clearing of mind had nevertheless clearly helped to some degree here as well. The stream of his recollections was by no means a wild, unstoppable flood as in the past. No – today, it felt rather like a planned show, with all the memories centering on the one word, number.

Admittedly, Harry was slightly disturbed with the number turning out seven in the first and second memory. He sincerely hoped it was only an unhappy coincidence. Then Snape drove in again and the third recollection started to replay in his head. He immediately knew that it would centre on seven again – and the hated Slytherin bastard would be led directly to his answer.

Groaning, Harry attempted to pull himself together. With gritted teeth, he set himself against Snape's mind, desperately trying to push it away from his recollections. For a time, he didn't appear to be managing it… the memory played on and on. Harry pressed harder. You are not viewing this! he commanded – and suddenly, suddenly, Snape's mind bowed back and Harry, for the second time in his life, entered the man's memories.

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Horcruxes, Potter. Show me how many are there! Snape pressed, absurdly pleased with the boy's starting reign over his mind. The harshness he had treated the boy with had clearly paid off. He was certain that if they had more time, Potter would finally learn how to block his thoughts.

What a pity that Dumbledore wouldn't approve less sensitive teaching methods when they had had their original lessons! Severus surely wouldn't have hurt the boy – no, not even James Potter's frustrating offspring, especially when he hadn't unintentionally hurt anyone, including Dumbledore in his most irritating days after he had learned how to block the seductive power of Dark Magic through his Occlumency shields.

It might have spared them all much trouble, to force Potter to learn that way… – or maybe also not. Snape sighed. The Unforgivables were called such for a reason – and if Umbridge had found out that Dumbledore had approved of him using them at school… No, it wouldn't have worked either, despite her own amateurish attempt at the Cruciatus against Potter. The Ministry taking over Hogwarts at an earlier date in the year of the Dark Lord's return to power would have created possibly even a worse situation than the precarious reality Snape lived in presently. The puppet Headmaster of the Dark Lord acknowledged by the School on Dumbledore's bidding only, hated with passion by everyone except the Carrows, who feared him. Snape smirked unhappily. Funny how fast he had relearned to appreciate Narcissa's and Lucius's friendship – no matter the impossible position the fair-haired witch had forced him into just over a year ago.

Snape resolutely halted his running thoughts here. This was not happening – he wasn't getting distracted! Not when their time was so limited – no matter how tired he felt after not having slept two nights in a row and poorly too many nights to count before that. Taking deep breath, he attempted to regain his usual tight rein over himself.

Knowing the urgency and having a great deal of practice, he succeeded momentarily – and almost started to laugh over Potter's tactic to keep him away from his recollections. Number – number – number. Indeed, Potter. Sorry to disappoint you, but this is only the best way to lead me to the memories I asked to see. You could have at least attempted to think in Parseltongue – not that it would have helped you much against the Dark Lord! What you were attempting was distraction, you imbecilic boy, not summoning your recollections centering on number! I bet you would give me what I want with your first memory… But then Snape needed to know, didn't he?

Show me, Potter! he commanded forcefully, not willing to lose any more of their precious time on this struggle – and was immediately rewarded with the stream of Potter's recollections replaying in front of his inner eyes.

Potter was six or seven, helping Petunia serve the table. In the middle of it, a huge cake with chocolate icing and seven candles in the shape of small racing cars was awaiting the arrival of its owner, no doubt the whale-like son of Petunia. Potter fiddled with napkins, just to be able to admire the cake and the candles a little longer – clearly not being allowed to taste even a small piece of it. The seven – seven! – candles were lit and Potter swallowed a jealous tear…

Second or third year Potter was at a Gryffindor Quidditch team meeting, following Oliver Wood's account of their newest tactic – Wood sketching his new idea on the board, representing each of his players with a dot. One – two – three – four – five – six – and the Seeker, ironically Potter - seven.

Snape smirked. Just like I said, he thought – and frowned over the number. Seven. Not the quantity he had originally feared – but still a considerable amount. Would Potter know more about them? Did Dumbledore? Snape's thoughts were again about to race – and he had to force them to stop running. Better be sure first, Severus, on at least one thing. Try one last memory to validate the number – and press for more only then.

Snape pushed for another memory, another number. Potter tried to block him, more vehemently than before, but he still wasn't strong enough. A moment later, Snape was shown what he asked to see…

Potter was panting for breath, just having reached the door of the Dark Arts Professor's office. He couldn't have been much younger than now – and surely late as usual. Still somewhat out of breath, the boy raised his right hand to knock – and was immediately rewarded with the door opening in front of him…

As Potter struggled to keep him out, the memory flow slowed here – but Snape immediately recognized the thick hands with numerous fingers and disgustingly pink sleeve of Dolores Umbridge, the second most hated Head of the school – just after him. Swiftly recalling the dispositions of the office under her reign, Severus knew also what he was about to view when Dolores would move aside to allow Potter in. He remembered the small table behind her back where the Blood-Quill no doubt lay prepared for Potter – and the ceramic clock with a Technicolour kitten on the wall behind her head. He would bet anything, that the clock would show just over seven. Dolores liked her Detentions to occur earlier, but Severus recalled a couple of times when she had postponed them for a Ministry visit's sake.

Snape pressed a little bit more and finally, Dolores's face came to full view and then, the insufferable woman started to move to the side. Just a moment more and he would have his confirmation…

And here Potter caught him unprepared. Unexpectedly, the boy summoned his mental power and pushed against Severus's intrusion. The sudden vehemence unbalanced Snape for a moment. Before the man could react, the memory flow turned against him, and now they were viewing one of his memories. One would say an innocent one – but what had ever been innocent in Snape's life?

Hogwarts Express was standing at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the students bidding their parents and siblings good-byes before another school year. In the middle of the platform, a girl with red hair stood just next to a dark-haired boy, a woman and a man bowing to embrace her and shake hand with him. Just behind the woman, a slightly older girl with a horse-like face was sulking, clearly wanting to be far away. Petunia, him and Lily. And Lily's damned son recognized them clearly too, for their connection abruptly broke.

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Sorry for the delay, I had quite a writing block. A review, please? (-: