Hidden Memories
Chapter 4
Monday morning found Harry Potter strolling along the banks of the muddy river in Cokeworth. He'd apparated at sunrise in the same spot that he and Ron had the previous week. But instead of walking directly to Spinner's End, Harry crossed the old stone bridge to the other side of town. He found a worn footpath along the river bank on that side of the river. He followed it for awhile, letting his thoughts wander. He imagined his mother playing by the river, skipping rocks with her friends. Harry came to a bend in the river where an old willow tree drooped her many arms over the bank. Her petals fell like teardrops into the water below. Harry followed the trail of one green tear as it landed gently on the water, creating the faintest of ripples. Harry could feel his mother in this place. It was a strong, visceral connection. He looked around half expecting to see her standing there. But, he was still alone.
Turning from the river, Harry walked over the low rise and watched as the town awoke. The men and women of Cokeworth village kissed their significant other's goodbye, made sure their children were strapped safely in their car seats, picked the morning paper up from their driveways, and hurried off to work. Harry wondered when he'd hear back from the Ministry about his job interview. It was hard to believe but soon, Harry would be settling into a life of safe routine. He wasn't complaining, he'd had enough adventure to last a lifetime.
The church bell rang, sending a pair of doves soaring into the air. Harry watched as they circled each other before making their way back to the tiny bell tower as the eighth chime sounded. Sunlight glinted off of a marble rock behind the church. The cemetery sprawled over four or five acres. Harry guess it was where most of the village folk were buried. He decided it was time to find out if his grandparents were buried there.
Once he reached the graveyard, Harry realized that even if his grandparents were resting there, he wouldn't know which plot was theirs. Even if they were the only Evanes in the cemetery, that wouldn't be a guarantee. No one had ever mentioned his mother's parents' names. Aunt Petunia had distanced herself from her family so that she'd vanished into Vernon's. The only visitor's they'd ever had at Privet Dr. were Durselys. Harry had never thought to ask Dumbledore. Snape had never spoken of them. He'd need to remember to ask Professors Slughorn and McGonagall. Harry walked down a couple of rows reading the names of all the departed Muggles. When he turned down the third row, he found the Evanses. But there were multiple graves. Harry wondered if he were related to all of them or any of them. He counted six pairs of Evans graves before his eyes landed on a grey granite slab that read Harry Andrew and Caroline Petunia Evans. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Harry shared the man's first name and his aunt Petunia the woman's middle name. Harry smiled because he believed he'd found his grandparents. He wished he'd brought flowers. Then, he remembered he was a wizard, a wizard of age, a wizard who could use magic at will. Harry pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it a blade of grass. Softly he muttered Lilium Alba, and the grass transformed into a beautiful white lily. Harry plucked it and laid it on the granite base just below the inscription that read, "Together, Always."
"Always," Harry whispered. He shook off the memories he'd seen in the pensieve. He didn't need those memories distracting him. He needed to sort through Snape's belongings today and the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with those uncomfortable memories.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry had made his way back to the grimier part of town. As he turned onto Spinner's End, he saw Hargreaves crossing at the other end of the block. He made to wave at him but the realtor seemed to be in a great hurry. He jumped in his car and zoomed around the corner without ever looking Harry's way. Harry thought it a bit curious to find Hargreaves in Spinner's End this early in the morning. If he remembered correctly, Mr. Weasley had said the Hargreaves generally worked out of Birmingham, some fifty miles away. Hargreaves had only been meeting with Harry because of Mr. Weasley's referral. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had brought Hargreaves to Spinner's End had something to do with Snape's place.
Harry moved more swiftly. Snape's place was as cold and dark as Harry had remembered. He lit his wand and headed straight for the sitting room. He pulled the blinds open flooding the tiny room with daylight.
'Nox,' Harry thought to himself, extinguishing his wand. He tucked it back into his back pocket. Out of curiosity he flipped the switch on the small table lamp. No electricity. He made a mental note to call the utility company. Harry walked into the tiny kitchen. Try as he hard as he could, he just couldn't see Snape cooking! Maybe he'd used it for brewing potions. The image of the Potions master standing in the kitchen dressed head to toe in black and stewing up a pot of Veritaserum brought a bright smile to Harry's face. Harry flicked the switch for the kitchen light, just to be sure it was the electricity and not the little lamp. Nothing happened. Harry pulled the string on the kitchen blind until it slid all the way to the top.
He turned to go back into the sitting room but stopped abruptly. The three wine glasses that he, Ron, and Hargreaves had drank from the previous week were cleaned and lined neatly along the sink. The wine bottle sat next to them with its stopper back in place. Harry blinked. He looked again. How had they gotten there? He was pretty sure that they'd left them in the sitting room. He replayed that day's events in his head. Maybe Ron had cleaned up when he hadn't been looking. Perhaps when Harry had shown Hargreaves out, Ron had stepped into the kitchen and tidied up. Didn't sound much like Ron, but that was the most reasonable explanation.
Hardly, Harry could almost hear Snape scoffing.
Harry turned and looked into the sitting room. The old frayed armchair sat vacant by the empty fireplace. Harry pulled and pointed his wand at the fireplace. A low fire caught and danced blue to orange. Harry looked back at the rickety table and he could've sworn he remembered leaving the wine bottle there.
Hargreaves. It had to be Hargreaves. He'd been in here. That's what he'd been doing in the area. Snooping around! Harry realized he'd been careless not to cast protective spells all over the place when he and Ron had left.
A flurry of words poured from his mouth as he rectified the situation. When he placed a shocking spell on the doorknob to the front entrance, Harry could almost hear Snape criticize, Overkill, Potter.
"Alright, then," Harry called as he came back into the sitting room. "Let's see what we have," Harry started with the bookshelf behind the armchair. As he looked at the leather bound volumes, he wondered if he should just wait for Hermione. He'd thought it would be a good idea for him to go ahead and weed out books he knew he'd want to keep. But, looking at the sheer number was making him wish he'd waited for his friends to help.
He tilted his head and began reading titles: Advanced Alchemy by Albus Dumbledore, Alchemy for Beginners by Lancer Spire, Alchemy for Lovers, by Lana Larue, Alchemy through the Ages by Nicholas Flamel, and Ancient Alchemists and their Theories by Bathilda Bagshot, Immortality through Alchemy by Phareba Kaler. So, Snape had organized them by category. Apparating across the Continents by Hardy King, Apparating for Beginners by Wilkie Twycross, Apparitions: Ghosts, Shades, Specters, Spirits, and Wraiths by Horn Gadney, Arcane Arts by Michelangelo Malfoy. Malfoy! Harry sneered. Yes, he owed his life in part to Narcissa Malfoy but that whole family line just reminded him of Voldemort, it wasn't an association he expected to wear off soon.
Harry had only been through a handful of books and already he was having a difficult time deciding which ones he wanted to keep. The one by Dumbledore he'd keep for purely sentimental reasons. But the ones about History like the Bagshot book could go straight to Hogwarts as far as he was concerned.
Harry pulled down the copy Immortality through Alchemy. The binding was solid but the cover turned as if the book had been opened many times. Harry looked at the page, it was underlined and marked much in the same way the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making had been. Snape had been an eager and diligent student, Harry had to give him that. Harry turned back to the title page where he expected to find the familiar scrawl of Snape's handwriting laying claim to the copy. Instead he found a brief note.
VVVVVVVVV
Severus,
I trust that this book finds you well. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation of all the information you've passed my way. I find you a most faithful and humble servant. I hope you reconsider the request I made of you regarding the girl. Trust that I have my reasons.
Voldemort
VVVVVVVVV
Harry slammed the book closed and tossed it onto the rickety table as if it had burned him.
It's only a book, Harry knew that Snape would say. Don't give it power it doesn't have.
Still, Harry could barely look at it.
The book, the neat handwriting, hearing his voice as he'd read the words, it all rattled him. Harry walked into the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a tea kettle. He filled it with water, tapped his wand to the side of the kettle and searched the pantry for tea bags.
As Harry sipped on his cup of tea, he ambled through the sitting room looking at the pictures on the wall and the other mostly Muggle artifacts that decorated the room. Harry thought the house had seen a lot of sadness. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him that Snape had come from an abusive household. He was always so controlled and contained. Wasn't that what abused children learned to do, contain themselves until they nearly disappeared into their surroundings. It was a survival mechanism. It was odd that there were no pictures of the young Severus on the wall, Harry thought. Maybe they'd been there once but Snape would've probably taken them down when he inherited his parents' home. Harry pictured a framed photo of a snaggle-toothed six year old. He couldn't help but chuckle.
Harry turned to look at the objects resting on the mantlepiece. Blue flames sputtered in the space below. The wooden candlesticks still held white tapers. The wax drips would have been witness to Snape's last visit home. Harry blinked back tears from his green eyes. A wooden clock sat in the center, it didn't appear to be working properly. Harry wondered what kind of battery it needed. He tuned it over and was surprised at the logo emblazoned at the bottom. H. A. Evans, Clockmaker. Harry wondered if the Evanses had given the clock to the Snapes or if Lily had given it to Severus.
He placed the clock back on the mantle with great care and looked at the print behind it before moving on to the old binoculars. They looked innocuous but Harry felt the magical energy thrumming through them as soon as he laid hands on them. He brought the binoculars up to his glasses but could see nothing but blackness. He checked the front of them to make sure there were not caps over them. Finding nothing to stop the light from coming in, Harry tried them again. Again, only darkness. He rolled the focus hoping that that might help, but it did nothing.
Harry considered putting the binoculars back on the mantle but then a half-remembered conversation flitted through his mind. Harry pulled out his wand, then held the binoculars out in front of him, and called, "Reveal your secrets." Tiny gold sparks dances across the eyepieces. Harry waited for them to stop sparking and then moved the binoculars toward his eyes again. But suddenly, a gush of air blew down the chimney causing the blue flames to jump around. Then, with a loud pop, a secret stairway opened up behind one of the bookshelves. Startled but excited by the discovery, Harry sat the binoculars back on the mantle and headed up the creaky staircase.