"All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black. Pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I dare say".
What little colour there was in Black's face left it rapidly, Harry feeling his own face following it rapidly as Hermione whimpered beside him.
"You – you've got to hear me out," the prisoner croaked. "The rat – look at the rat".
Snape was beyond reason though. He could see the mad glint in the Professor's black eyes, one he'd only seen on his Uncle Vernon's face whenever Harry had used accidental magic as a child. He could see that Snape more than knew what he was doing, the foul man was going to intentionally get Black Kissed, innocent or not. Merlin… Harry could practically feel the hatred and satisfaction radiating off the Professor.
"Now come along, all of you," the man said, clicking his fingers and summoning the ropes binding Lupin to his hands. "I think I'll drag the werewolf too, lead it about by its collar," Snape added mockingly, "Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for it too?"
As the Potions Professor turned to the door, Harry was moving, straightening his back and shoulders as he stood before the door.
"Get out of the way, Potter," Snape hissed coldly, not moving his eyes from Black's trembling form, "You're in enough trouble already. If I hadn't been here to save your skin-"
"Professor Lupin could have killed me countless times this year," Harry interrupted, "I've been alone with him loads of times, he's been teaching me the Patronus charm. If he wanted to kill me he would have done it already," he explained quickly.
"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape dismissed lazily, the man sending a warning glare in Harry's direction, "How would I understand how such a dark creature thinks? Now move".
Whatever Harry had been going to say, he didn't know, but he was pretty certain that it wasn't "You're pathetic".
"They bullied you in school, so you're not even going to listen to them?" he exclaimed angrily, "You – you're just disgusting! You treat me like shit, going on about how my father was an arrogant bastard, yet you're going to kill two innocent men because you're throwing a tantrum about what happened in school?"
"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT" Snape screamed furiously, looking like he was seconds away from losing his mind entirely. "You are so much like your father Potter! I have just saved your neck! You should be worshipping me on bended knee! Oh I should have let him killed you! You'd have died just like your father – too arrogant to believe-"
"AT LEAST HE DIED A HERO!" Harry shouted, cutting off the ranting (and frothing at the mouth) Professor, "He died to protect me from Voldemort! But look at you! You're going to kill two innocent men because of a grudge! I'm proud to be like my Dad, I'd rather be a hero than a murderous freak like you!"
Freak.
Harry had never called anyone that before.
Freak.
Freak had been his name growing up, before today he'd never even thought about calling someone that name. But if anything, out of everyone he knew, Snape deserved it. Not even Voldemort, for all his insanity and bloodlust, deserved to be called that name in Harry's mind. Voldemort was clearly insane, Snape however for all his bullying and bias, was perfectly aware of what he was doing.
As the Professor's wand snapped towards Harry, a flash of light already beginning to emanate from it's tip, the raven-haired wizard didn't hesitate to bring his own wand up – only for the flash to tear it from his grip and hurl it across the room. Straightening up again, he still refused to move as Snape aimed a glowing wand-tip at him, spreading his arms out to the side to block all access.
"Move," the Professor threatened softly, all traces of sanity gone as Harry knew that Snape would happily kill him if he didn't.
"No".
"Move," Snape snarled, "For once in your life stop acting like the spoilt brat you are and give someone else some happiness!"
"This isn't happiness," Harry corrected slowly, stepping forward with his eyes locked directly on Snape's. "This is cold-blooded murder, Professor. I'm the complete opposite of a spoilt brat, so 'for once in my life' I'm going to do something that I want".
"Oh don't feed me that bull, Potter," Snape spat, "I've seen you strutting around the castle like you own it!"
"I don't strut Professor, that'd be you," Harry countered, mentally begging that Snape wouldn't notice the way he was getting closer and closer with each half-step. "And if I could show you my life, then I would, and then you'd see that I'm not-" he cut off as something washed over him, like a quiet thought in the back of his head that was finally waking up from a long nap.
Why couldn't he show the Professor his life?
Lunging forward before he could stop and think about it, Harry swatted Snape's wand-arm out of the way and pulled back his right arm, slamming his palm onto the startled man's forehead.
And then he pushed.
Almost instantly Snape was letting out a low moan as they both stiffened, all the beatings and abuse from the Dursleys flashing past Harry's mind eye, the raven-haired wizard unaffected by what he'd already lived. Just knowing that the Professor was not only seeing everything that he was, but that Snape was also feeling the emotion that the younger Harry had felt with each slap, punch and kick that landed on his tiny body.
Stop
Harry knew instinctively that Snape hadn't spoken aloud, his voice echoing through the link between their minds, barely making itself heard over the barrage of memories that Harry was forcing into the Professor's mind.
Merlin… please make it stop!
Why? Harry asked back, automatically following in Snape's footsteps and speaking mentally instead of verbally. We're not even at my sixth birthday yet.
PLEASE!
Harry had to fight back a sneer as Snape collapsed to his knees, Harry's hand following him without pause as he forced memory after memory at him. You wanted to see, so you see.
He wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, Snape on his knees with Harry standing over him. All he knew, was that despite the way it felt like he was reliving some of his worst memories, something told him that only seconds had passed in the world outside of their minds. Merlin… he didn't even know how he knew, he just did, like it was some long awaken reflex that he'd forgotten about years ago. And it was because of this, that Harry knew Snape wouldn't make it much longer before passing out, the man's already feeble attempts to look away weakening faster and faster.
And then it was over.
Harry's hand fell from Snape's brow as the man fell to the side unconscious, the heavy stream of memories cutting off the moment his hand dropped, forcing a heavy shuddering breath from his lungs as a wave of fatigue washed through him.
"Harry?"
Head snapping around to stare at the concerned-looking Hermione, he managed a weak reassuring smile as his friend edged forward to hand him back his wand, the bushy-haired girl looking down at Snape with a mix of hatred and shame.
"Is he?"
"Unconscious," Harry said simply, "He couldn't handle it".
"Just like your mother," Black's voice croaked, making them both turn, their wands raising to aim at the escaped prisoner. As he finished untying Professor Lupin, the man looked up at Harry with tears welling in his eyes, "Your mother was a powerful Legilimens, a mind-reader, she could walk right into Professor Dumbledore's mind and back out without the man even noticing, slipping right past his shields".
For a moment Harry was desperate to know more about his mother, his wand dipping slightly before a squeak coming from the bed made it snap back up. "You. You said you had proof," he demanded, ignoring the tears in the man's eyes as he glared at Black, "So prove it".
In the end the proof wouldn't matter. Not to anyone bar Harry, Hermione and Ron. (Even if the latter was still convinced that Sirius Black was a psychotic lunatic; innocent or not).
Peter Pettigrew had escaped. Sirius had been forced to go back on the run with Buckbeak the Hippogriff, after Harry and Hermione had gone back in time to rescue them under Professor Dumbledore's instructions. Lupin had been fired after Snape had 'accidentally' let slip about his condition at breakfast one morning, and even then the dungeon-dwelling Professor had missed on the chance to mock Harry as he avoided the raven-haired wizard to the point of fleeing the room when Harry entered it.
Of course, while Harry would normally have been pleased about the lack of Snape in his life, there was the matter that Ron had decided the hated Professor had a point, and was now treating Harry the same way – only putting up with him during classes and in their dormitory. What little he'd managed to gather from the red-head, was that he was afraid of having Harry read his mind, despite the fact that Harry couldn't.
Whatever it was that had awoken within him in the Shrieking Shack had since returned to its slumber. And aside from a couple of moments during the end of the year that Harry would just look up at someone and just know what they were feeling, all he had to even remind him of what had happened were the headaches that had become common that year and his best friend's absence.
"I can't wait to stay in bed all day tomorrow," Hermione's voice said suddenly, pulling Harry's attention away from what lay beyond the window and across the compartment to his only friend. (Only human friend, Hedwig would bite him if he forgot to add 'human'). "Lavender and Parvati were gossiping all last night about what they were doing these holidays, I barely got any sleep. Besides," the bushy-haired girl added with a guilty smile as she noticed Harry was watching her, "What's the point of the holidays if we can't sleep in?"
"You mean you'll be in bed doing your homework," Harry corrected simply, making the girl blush.
"Maybe after the first day," Hermione confessed sheepishly, "What's the point of the holidays if I have to spend all of them doing homework? It's best to get it finished as soon as possible, especially since you could get inspiration later on and still have time to alter your essays to include it," she explained knowingly as Harry grinned at her.
"I can totally imagine you at one of those spas Aunt Petunia always talks about," Harry mused slowly as Hermione busied herself in brushing her hair away from her face, "Your face would be covered in that green stuff, you'd have those people massaging your feet, and then you'd have a book bigger than my head on your lap and your homework on the table beside you".
Hermione mock-scowled at Harry for a moment before pausing, a pleased expression crossing her face as they both heard the train's horn going off as it started to slow. "That's actually a good idea," she admitted thoughtfully, "I wonder if Mum'll like it?"
Sniggering as they grabbed their luggage and made their way off the train, Harry was grateful for Hermione's squeal of "MUMMY!" when he saw the dark look Molly Weasley was giving him from across the station as Ron spoke to her at a mile an hour. Letting himself be dragged over to Hermione's parents, who had apparently been helped onto the station, he mumbled out a greeting as Hermione led them all off the platform and back to the Muggle part of the station towards where his Uncle Vernon was waiting for him.
"Oh Harry!" Hermione blurted suddenly, "Here. My address and phone number," she explained as she shoved a piece of parchment into his hands, "I know it didn't work out so well when Ron tried last year, but if you manage to call me we might be able to meet up during the holidays".
"BOY!"
"I'll try, Hermione," he promised as she threw her arms around his neck in a quick hug, gently pushing him towards his Uncle as her parents exchanged a knowing look.
"What do you think you're doing making me wait around for your worthless hide?" Vernon hissed the moment Harry reached him, the man's pudgy face turning a dangerous yet normal shade of red.
"Mr Dursley," a voice interrupted, making Harry turn to see a suited man with red sunglasses scowling at his Uncle. "I'll have to ask you to not talk to my charge like that".
"Right," Vernon said smugly, turning to Harry with a pleased look on his face. "You're going with him boy," the man announced proudly, "We're finally getting rid of you".
"Professor Scott Summers," the red-glassed man introduced as Harry blinked in shock and confusion, "My companions and I run a boarding school in America, the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, it's a school for Mutants. For you".
MEMORIES
So… it's surprisingly difficult to get back into the swing of things after your muse has been attacked in a dark alleyway by plagiarists, but thankfully they're coming along well in the hospital and should be back on their feet in no time.
The Undercover Operative cannot claim to own either Harry Potter or X-Men.