Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Spoiler alert: If you haven't read all the books yet you might want to do that before you read this story.
This is my first HP fanfic. I am not a native so I'm sorry if my English sounds a bit weird sometimes. Read, enjoy and review :)
"Having fun?"
Harry felt something tighten around his upper arm, and he could feel himself rising into the air. He was floating upward through icy blackness, away from the summer's day by the lake. Then, with a swooping feeling as though he had turned head over heels midair, his feet hit the stone floor of Snape's dungeon, and he was standing again besides the Pensieve on Snape's desk in the shadowy, present-day Potions master's study.
"So," spat Snape, gripping Harry's arm so tightly that Harry's hand was starting to feel numb. "So… been enjoying yourself, Potter?"
"N-no…" stammered Harry, trying to wriggle his arm free. Panic was taking over. Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, his teeth were bared. Harry had not been as terrified when he had faced Voldemort himself as he was right now.
"Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?" growled Snape, shaking Harry so hard that his glasses slipped down his nose.
"I– didn't–"
Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard onto the dungeon floor, sharp pain shooting through his body.
"You will not tell anybody what you saw!" Snape bellowed.
"No," said Harry, getting to his feet and as far from Snape as he could. "No, of course I w –"
"Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"
And as Harry hurtled toward the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head.
Professor Severus Snape was beyond furious. That imbecile just had to look into the bloody Pensieve, didn't he? Probably got a kick out of it, seeing his arrogant father torturing him.
"Stupid… Arrogant… Attention seeking… Lazy… Swine… Just like his father…" he murmured, running up and down in his office, trying to contain his furry. He felt the burning humiliation of decades ago creep over his skin as if no time had passed at all. Along with rage that was so strong that he felt the urge to trash his office with a few well-placed spells.
He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. Why him? Why did things like that always happen to him? The universe didn't just want him not to be happy, no it wanted him to be as miserable as was humanly possible. Anger welled up inside of him again and he sent several jars flying with a flick of his wand.
More calming breaths. He could not let his emotions rule him.
When he opened his eyes again, something in the room had changed. Something inside the Pensieve caught his attention. Lights danced on the wall and the silver-white contents were swirling and ebbing within it. The memories seemed to be lively and strong but they weren't his own. Curiosity welling inside of him, he made a step towards the Pensieve and gazed at it. Curiosity won out and he made another step in the direction of it. He took his wand out and gave the silvery stuff a small prod with the end of it. The contents started to swirl faster and then became transparent. Severus found himself looking down upon the sleeping form of one Harry Potter.
Could this be? A cold smile tucked at the corners of his mouth. Revenge.
This was the perfect opportunity to get back at the spoiled brat. He plunged his face into the thoughts of one 10-year old Harry Potter.
After the feeling of falling and the spinning had stopped, he realized he was standing in front of a cupboard.
At first, Severus didn't know what to make of this but then he heard an all to familiar voice screeching, "Up! Get up! Now!" and he immediately knew who it belonged to. No matter how many years would pass, the terribly voice - always insulting, nagging, whining - would forever be edged into his memory.
Snape frowned. He knew Potter had been raised by relatives but he had never given it further thought.
He focused his attention on his surroundings. There were no pictures of Potter or his parents anywhere in the house. He snorted. Maybe the muggles had noticed how vain the brat was and removed any pictures of him.
He saw Petunia rapping on the door of the cupboard. She screeched "Up!" once more and made her way into another room.
Had all sanity left her? Not that there had been much to begin with, but shouting at a cupboard seemed inane, even for her.
She came back into the room and asked "Are you up yet?"
"Nearly," answered a sleepy voice from inside the cupboard.
What was the boy who lived doing in a cupboard? Had he been looking for something? But Petunia had told him to get up and- it couldn't be, could it? He knew Petunia could be vile, but surely...
But then the boy came out of the cupboard, wearing tattered old clothes that were several sized too big for him, and there was no more uncertainty. He had been sleeping in there. The boy who lived, who he had believed to have been showered with love and affection, had to sleep in a cupboard. Did Dumbledore know?
The boy must have been thinking about his parents because the scene switched and he saw an even younger version of Potter asking his aunt about his scar.
"In the car crash when your parents died. And don't ask questions," Petunia told the little boy.
"In a car crash?! Lily did not die in a car crash!" Snape gasped. How could they? Lily had been brave and selfless even as she drew her last breath.
Could it really be that he had had no idea who he was or who his parents had been? How could the whole world know about this except for the one person it affected the most?
The scene shifted again, back to the boy and the cupboard and Petunia.
He kept observing. He observed who he assumed to be Petunia's walrus of a husband - well done, Petunia. He watched a fat, greedy little boy celebrate his birthday. God, what had Petunia done? Who had allowed her to reproduce?
He watched as the fat boy got his presents. As much of a dunderhead the Potter boy was, at least he was able to add two to thirty-seven.
It pained him to watch, and he was happy when the scene finally switched to the zoo and into the reptile house. He watched the boy cast some impressive accidental magic, and felt little sympathy for the other boy.
The walrus punished Potter afterwards, and Snape knew he should feel satisfaction. He knew he would have, had he not seen what he had seen. But he had, and so something that he refused to call sympathy started to grow.
The next scene presented him with Potter's Hogwarts letter. He remembered when he had gotten his own - his mother had tried to hide it from his father. His father had found the letter, and had beaten both his wife and Severus. It had still been one of the happiest days of his life, because he knew, even while his father kicking him, that he would be leaving.
Petunia must have known about the letter, but obviously it only gave her more reason to resent the boy. Foolish woman.
He frowned, then. The spoiled brat image he had had in his mind didn't seem to fit anymore. Once again he asked himself: Had Dumbledore known about this? And if he had – how could he leave Lily's child in such a family? It pained him to think about how Lily would have reacted if she had known.
The memory switched again and again. He saw how the boy was treated by his relatives, in school by Draco and the other students, and he saw the boy's first lesson with him.
He shuddered and got paler and paler with every scene. Not only was the boy not the attention seeking brat he had thought he was, but he was being abused at home and bullied in school, just like... Just like he had been. With every memory he saw a bit more of himself in the boy. Or rather, he saw how their circumstances had been similar, because aside from that, they could not be more different. Where Severus had grown bitter and resentful, Harry had grown kind. No matter how terrible others treated him, he remained positive, protective and helpful - just like his mother. Now not even the assumption that the boy was arrogant and attention seeking seemed to work anymore.
He thought about all the times Dumbledore and Minerva had told him that he only saw what he wanted to see. The realization struck him hard - they might have been right.
But not only that: He treated the boy like James had treated him. He had become a bully himself and the boy had done nothing to deserve this punishment.
The anger he had felt earlier had faded, and instead there was now pain and grief. The boy had not enjoyed seeing him suffer, that much he understood. And he would tell no one what he had seen. Because the boy was kind, even if Severus was not.
More memories followed - the Mirrir of Erised. The Dark Lord. Dementors. The Ministry of Magic. Detentions with Umbridge. But he had seen enough.
Severus Snape left the Pensieve shaking. Potter had been telling the truth. He honestly had not found his father's actions amusing. He might have been too quick to judge the boy.
His anger was completely gone. He felt numb. "I am sorry Lily. I failed you. Again."
A few minutes he struggled with himself.
Then he decided that he would have to have a word with Draco. And with Harry. It was too late to change the past. But he could still do something about the future.
A.N.: I read quite a few reading the books fics lately. Sadly, they usually start with book one and are abandoned before it gets interesting. Well, while reading them I came up with this and just had to write it down. If Snape treated Harry differently from this point onward, and continued to teach him, who knows what might happen. Maybe Sirius and many others wouldn't have died. Actually, I'd love to continue this and develop it into a longer story but I'll study abroad the next two semesters and really won't have any time for this. So if you would like to continue this feel free to do so.