CHAPTER 3

Snape walks to the middle of this concealed room and turns to me, obviously expecting me to follow his lead. "What kind of meeting did you attend earlier?" I ask him innocently as the door in his living room slams shut.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now, I think we should start with your dueling skills. They were . . . lacking the last time I saw you duel."

"Really? I believe I held my own fairly nicely against you, Professor." How does he not remember me slamming him into the tree?

"Beginner's luck."

"I've been dueling for years! I even held my own against Lucius Malfoy!"

"And look where he is. He's not real competition. If I remember correctly, Bellatrix and I both defeated you pretty easily."

"Bellatrix may have destroyed me, but you certainly did not."

"I took your wand by force, Rodgers. That is a loss. Now, ready your wand, or I shall have to take it from you again."

"Why don't we work on Occlumency first?"

"At this point, it's more beneficial for you to learn to duel."

"I think, at this point, it would be more beneficial for me to learn Occlumency. If the Dark Lord finds out what I learned . . ." I drift, purposefully trying to spark his interest, but he doesn't look the least bit curious as to what I am talking about. "I mean, I don't think you'd want Voldemort—"

"Do not use the Dark Lord's name."

"I've told you already, if I am to have his child, I will call him whatever I want to call him."

"I assumed that you would learn better after meeting him, but I suppose you are either too stupid or too arrogant to realize how dangerous it is to speak his name."

"I learned some pretty interesting things at the Burrow earlier, Professor, things that I should hide using Occlumency. It is not advisable for Vol"—he casts me a very horrifying glare—"the Dark Lord to learn that you are a part of the Order of the Phoenix."

His lip twitches. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I say to him. "You should have told me! I mean, I've had my suspicions, sure, but—"

With no warning, a spells grabs me by the ankles and suspends me upside down the air—my wand slips from my grasp and clatters to the floor out of my reach as my blood begins rushing to my head. "I'm not a part of the Order, and it'd be wise for you to know that."

"All right, whatever, just let me down!"

"Not yet," he says calmly. He points his wand at me. "Legilimens!"

I'm eleven years old, running for my life down a poorly lit alley. With my wand pointed behind me, I blindly blast at a pursuer. The man, a wizard with a scruffy black beard and long black hair, follows me, shouting off hexes and curses that I can't understand. The Impediment Jinx hits me and throws me through the air. I stop only when I smash into a large dumpster. The man comes toward me and stands over me.

He points his wand at me, smiling at his victory. With a panicked movement, I shriek, "Confringo!" The man bursts into flames and screams in agony. His wand drops in front of me. I grab it and run, glancing over my shoulder to see the Death Eater fall to the ground, pleading for someone to kill him.

Snape releases the spell's hold on me, and I'm no longer in the alley but rather am still hanging upside down in the basement, my head throbbing, my body shaking violently, all probably due to him delving inside of my mind. Suddenly, I collapse to the floor and smack the floor, letting out a loud groan. I roll over and painfully push myself to my feet. Snape had no right to see that. It was the first time I had ever used magic to kill someone . . .

"Did you know him?" he asks me softly.

"No." I had never even heard his name before I ended his life.

"Again," Snape says. "One . . . two . . . three . . . Legilimens!"

Mrs. Stoico hands me the letter from Alphard on my tenth birthday. I read it, then crumble it and throw it down.

I'm looking in a mirror, and my face begins changing, as does my hair and eyes. Then I'm looking into the face of an older man. A plumber who had been hired to fix a leak walks into the room. I hit him over the back of the head and take his uniform. I throw my few belongings into a bag and run from the orphanage.

Back to my normal self again, I stand in Alphard's empty, abandoned, dirty, dilapidated house. A letter and a small bag rest on a table, and I rush over to them, then read the letter, grab the bag, and ransack the house. I leave with the pocket watch.

I'm back at the orphanage. The other orphans are gathered around a small room. I listen under the window outside when I hear a voice say, "Mrs. Stoico's death—"

"NOOO!" I bellow, now on my hands and knees on the stone floor.

"You're a Metamorphmagus. Who knows about that?"

"Only Tonks," I breathe, tears in my eyes. "Sirius did as well."

"The Dark Lord doesn't know?"

"I don't know," I say, still not looking up at him. "I don't know—if I displayed my abilities as an infant—"

"No word was ever given about Bellatrix Lestrange's child being a Metamorphmagus. It's possible that you didn't begin using that particular ability until after your parents sent you to Alphard's." I never even really began to practice those abilities until I was almost eight. "Clear your mind, Rodgers." How? "We go again. One . . . two . . ."

"Wait!"

"Three . . . Legilimens!"

I enter an empty cave. My wand lights up as I explore the area. I'm fourteen with bright red hair and brown eyes and freckles all over my face, one of my disguises. A big, black dog jumps at me, knocking me to the ground. Before I can aim my wand to kill it, it takes off, and I watch it disappear. Then I continue exploring the cave. Embers glow in a small area where a fire had recently been. A pouch next to the embers contains uneaten food, and I rush towards it.

"Get out!" I scream, throwing Snape out of my memories and finding myself on the stone floor again.

"Did the dog return?"

I take a deep breath. "Not while I was there. Why?"

"Where were you? What year was that?"

"In a cave not far from Hogwarts, actually." How would things be different now if I had gone to the castle or even Hogsmeade and ask for help? "It was 'ninety-four, I think. Why does that matter?" With a grunt I push myself back to my feet.

Snape grimaces. "That was no ordinary dog." I watch at him expectantly. "Did you not know that Sirius Black was an Animagus?" I shake my head. "That was him. I'd recognize him anywhere."

Unsure what to think about this, I remain silent rather than risk speaking. I wish I had known Sirius in 1994. Maybe he could have helped me run from the Death Eaters. Maybe he could have saved me from Lucius Malfoy. Maybe we could have been fugitives together.

"Again."

"Wait!"

"One . . ."

"Please!"

"Two . . . three . . . Legilimens!"

"Protego!"

Snape's attempt to see into my memories rebounds, drawing me into his mind and showing me memories I have no right to see. He is hanging upside down by the beech tree, and I immediately know what this is. This is the scene that Harry had described to Sirius and Lupin. He shoves me out of his thoughts seconds later.

He doesn't give me a moment before he shouts, "Legilimens!"

I'm sitting on the stairs of Grimmauld Place, listening as Harry speaks to Sirius and Lupin about the same scenario I had just seen in Snape's mind.

Snape leaves my mind, and I pull myself back to my feet. "You're not clearing your mind. You must clear your mind, or the Dark Lord will be able to penetrate your thoughts."

"How do you clear your mind?" I cry out. "You're not helping me!" And the Dark Lord penetrating my thoughts isn't even my biggest fear right now—it's never being able to control my emotions.

"Empty your mind of all thought and emotion. It's not that difficult." That definitely sounds difficult. He waits a second. "Again. Legilimens!"

I sit with Fred on his bed inside his room above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "I have to go," I say to him. "They're going to stop letting me leave . . ."

"You can stay here," he says. "Don't go back to them. I don't trust them. Who knows what they might do to you."

"I can't stay here. That'll be too suspicious."

"Suspicious? Who's there to be suspicious? George doesn't care! And who cares if the Malfoys are upset? I'm sure your parents won't mind you getting away from them!"

I bite my lip, desperate to tell him the truth.

"OUT!" I shriek, once again finding myself on the stone floor, sweat starting to soak my clothes and my hair. My relationship with Fred is private. Snape might know much of the relationship between me and Draco, but I don't want him to know about Fred. He has no right.

"Gain control of yourself."

"I'm trying!" I scream, not even bothering to stand back up anymore.

"Try harder! Legilimens!"

"We weren't simply 'reunited.' She buried me before I was a year old. Narcissa says Bellatrix can't . . . can't handle the idea of me being alive, because what if she loses me again?"

"And you were afraid to tell me this because you thought I'd hate you?"

I nod.

"You daft girl! I won't hold you accountable for who your parents are! If anything, this makes you that much more interesting. There's a whole new side of you I'll get to know!"

I quickly lean forward and capture his mouth with mine, my hands slipping away from his and grabbing his collar to pull him closer. His hands grip my hips tightly.

"NOOOO! That's private!"

Snape looks gravely serious. "You must learn to clear your mind," he says softly, "or the Dark Lord will see everything you fear him seeing. Nothing is private to him, and if he learns that Fred Weasley—"

"Shut up!"

"You must learn. Again." I meet his eye this time. "Legilimens!"

I'm entering the Room of Requirement for the first time. Draco and I sit at a table and enjoy butterbeers together.

We're headed down the spiral staircase and almost kiss but jump at the sounds of footsteps.

Draco and I are in the abandoned classroom on a date. He gives me the pendant. We start kissing. Draco lifts me and puts me on the table. Snape walks in on us.

I'm dueling Lucius in Malfoy Manor. He throws me into the ceiling and takes my wand.

I'm dueling Bellatrix. She uses the Cruciatus Curse on me. I do the same to her.

Snape and I duel in the Forbidden Forest.

The ice of the Black Lake cracks, and I fall in, crying aloud for help and not caring that I'm losing what little air I have.

I can't throw Snape out of my memories. Each time I try, a new memory comes to me, and I find myself trying to throw him from that one, only to send him to another.

I fall over myself to get away from Voldemort when I see him for the first time.

I enter the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort is. I have to get Snape out of this particular memory. If he finds out that I asked to be sent to him, he'll be furious, but my distress only makes it harder for me to get him out. "I need practice with dueling, my Lord, like you said before" I say to Voldemort. "I wish to be trained. I wish to be a great a soldier, like my mother and father." I swallow. "I wish to serve you to the best of my ability." I can't get him out of my mind—I can't even force him out of this memory.

"Bellatrix will gladly train you," Voldemort says.

"I don't want to take her away from her responsibilities to you, my Lord."

"Then how will you learn? Bellatrix is my greatest lieutenant. She would be the best for you." No, no, no, no.

"Send me to spend the holidays with Professor Snape. He can teach me." Damn.

I finally force Snape out, screaming with the pain of it, but it's too late. His face is contorted with fury. "YOU—" He closes his eyes, then continues in a soft but dangerous voice, "You appealed to the Dark Lord to come here."

"Yes." I don't even attempt to spin the story to deceive him.

"Why?"

"I couldn't stay in the same place as Bellatrix, as Vol—the Dark Lord," I say. "You are the only other Death Eater that I know. Yours was the only name that came to mind."He doesn't seem completely satisfied, but he doesn't seem as angry as before either. "Please understand that I couldn't stay there with them."

He's a very hard person to read. "We are finished with Occlumency for today," he says. "We will resume tomorrow."

I sigh with relief and shift off my knees and to my back so I can lie on the floor for just a moment. "Good."

"Dueling," he says, and a short fear pricks my heart at the idea of jumping into dueling with him while he's this angry with me. "When you are dueling, what gives away your next attack?"

"I . . . I don't know," I say, continuing to lie there.

"Speaking the spell aloud alerts your enemy of your intentions. You must learn to cast them silently."

With a loud groan, I force myself into a sitting position, then nod at him. "That makes sense." I pull my soaked, sweaty, thick hair off my neck and tie it up.

He waves his wand, and a dummy appears on the other side of the room. With another flick of his wand, a force yanks the dummy up and hangs it by its ankles. "That certain spell is designed to be cast nonverbally. If you cannot do that one, then there's no hope for you."

Professor Snape sure knows how to make someone nervous. "What's the incantation?"

He flicks his wand again, and the dummy falls. "Levicorpus."

I run the name through my mind, but nothing strikes me as familiar. "I've never heard of it."

"That's because I created it. Point your wand at the dummy and try it."

"You created a spell? How—"

"Try it."

With great effort, I push to my feet and trudge over to him, my body and my mind exhausted. Then I point my wand at the dummy and think, quite loudly, "LEVICORPUS!"The spell yanks the dummy into the air, and I smile, bending over and bracing myself on my knees.

"Now drop it."

I look over at him. "How?"

"Never cast a spell to which you do not know the counter curse."

"I assumed you would tell me." This is ridiculous. If he didn't want me to do the spell, he should have simply said so.

"Never assume anything." His voice gives a clear warning. "The incantation is Liberacorpus."

I force myself upright, point my wand at the upside down dummy, and think, "Liberacorpus." It falls to the floor.

My smile fades when I meet Snape's eyes. "Do not be overcome with joy," he says coolly. "As I said before, those spells are designed to be nonverbal." I watch him closely. "You seem to be rather proficient with the Shield Charm. Why don't you give that one a try?"

I try. And I fail. My body is exhausted, and I just want to lie down for a minute and regain some composure and some strength, but I don't say that to him. I chant silently to myself, "Protego!" over and over, growing frustrated is nothing happens. I just keep trying and failing.

I don't know how long Snape lets me do this. It could have easily been an hour (though I doubt it) before he tells me to stop. "That's obviously not working," he says.

"Obviously."

He walks to where the dummy lies and points his wand at me. "If you do not block my attack, I will take no credit for the consequences."

"What?"

"Cast a shield nonverbally to stop my attack, Rodgers," he says. "One." Does he really expect me to do this? "Two." I won't be able to, I just know it. "Three." I mentally shout for the shield charm to protect me. "Locomotor Mortis!" My shield doesn't appear, and his spell freezes my legs together. I lose my balance and collapse to the floor, Snape smirking at me before performing the counter curse to set me free. "You did not stop me."

"I tried!"

"You failed." His wand is now in the air, pointing straight at me again. "If you don't stop me this time, you may lose some fingers."

I look down at my hands and raise my wand to defend myself. I don't doubt for a moment that Snape is telling the truth. He wouldn't mind risking my fingers. In his mind, I will have several more.

"Ready?" he asks me cruelly. I nod. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

"Protego!" I shout aloud. His jinx hits my shield harmlessly.

"Rodgers."

"Sorry."

"Again." He casts the jinx at me again, but rather than cutting off my fingers, the spell throws me backward and rams me into the wall behind me. "Had that been the curse I said it would be, you would currently possess fewer fingers."

"I know that," I growl, ignoring the throbbing in my back, not standing back up to my feet.

"Again."

In a panic, I verbally cast the Shield Charm around myself and lean heavily against the wall, still unable to bring myself back to my feet. "I can't—I can't do it, Professor," I say quietly, resting my head against the wall, my eyes closed. His footsteps approach me, but I don't put up a fight. I'm too tired.

When I open my eyes, he is crouched in front of me, a glass in his hand. "Drink this."

It's water, I soon find out, and I chug the whole glass, then smile appreciatively.

He takes the empty glass and sends it back to wherever he got it from. "We'll come back to nonverbal spells later." He stands back up, and I follow his lead, my legs wobbly. Then he suspends the dummy in the air. "No doubt, with your parentage and your duty to the Dark Lord, you will run into a time where the situation is kill or be killed, and after the Blasting Curse you used on that Death Eater in the alley, I assume that's not your favorite way to kill a man."

"I thought you said not to assume things, Professor."

"I'll take that as a yes. I guess you would also prefer another way besides the illegal Avada Kedavra?"

"I don't want to think about having to kill another person. I've done that enough in my life, sir."

"Being around the Dark Lord will force you to do things that you do not want to do—"

"Don't remind me."

He grimaces. "Sectumsempra!"The dummy is sliced apart as if an invisible sword has just lost its temper, and I watch in awe as the pieces fall to the floor.

"That's . . . not a curse that's any better."

"At least the victim will not burn alive."

I frown at him because he's right.

"Try it," he commands, lifting the dummy back into the air.

"Is there a counter curse?"

He almost looks pleased with me. "Vulnera Sanentur, if used quickly enough." I'm guessing that if the spell isn't used soon enough, the victim will die, but in fear that asking will make me look like an idiot, I remain quiet. "Go."

I take a few short breaths. "Sectumsempra!" The spell once again slashes the dummy apart. Though I don't intend to use this on any living creature, it seems rather pointless to tell Snape because if he's teaching me to kill someone or something, he must expect awful things to come about, and I really don't want to know what he thinks these might be. There's a brief silence before I ask quietly, "Can we be done for today?" I don't know how much more of this I can take. It all reaffirms the inevitable.

Snape gives me a furtive glance. "Occlumency, then we may quit."

"Why?" I moan, unsure if I have the strength to do it.

"You've had a bit to clear your mind. You've learned new things and no doubt feel different than when we worked on it earlier. You must learn to use Occlumency no matter what your emotions."

I nod.

"Legilimens!"

I am climbing my way to the top of a building which is under construction, continuously glancing behind me. Lucius Malfoy follows me closely. Knowing that throwing spells at him will only waste time and make it harder for me to keep moving forward, I knock things over as I pass them, hoping to slow him down as much as I can.

I start climbing a ladder that leads farther up. I point my wand at Malfoy and cast a spell. He dodges it, giving me enough time to roll onto the highest floor of the building and dart over to the edge. I'm looking down when Malfoy finishes the climb himself. "Don't come any closer!" I shout at him, my wand shaking in my hand.

"Come with me," he says calmly.

"Never! Avada Kedavra!" But with my shaking hand, the spell misses its target, instead hitting a stack of metal and knocking it over. Malfoy expels my wand from my hand and catches it. I look from him to the ground below, then take a step backward off the top of the building.

"Protego!" My spell draws me into his mind.

Bellatrix and Narcissa stand in the sitting room of Spinner's End. Narcissa is crying, pleading with Snape. "Severus, my son . . . my only son . . ."

"Draco should be proud," Bellatrix says. "The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn't shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at the prospect—"

"That is because he's sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why, Severus? Why my son? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance for Lucius's mistake, I know it!"

Snape doesn't seem to be trying to stop me. He could have pushed me out of his memories by now, but he has not.

Narcissa staggers towards Snape and seizes his robes. "You could do it!" she cries.

I feel as though he thrusts me farther into his memories and has me pick back up a few minutes later, but there's a sensation in me that says I've missed part of the conversation.

"It might be possible . . . for me to help Draco," Snape says.

"Severus—oh, Severus—you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?" she asks.

"I can try," he replies.

She falls at his feet, takes his hand in both of hers, and kisses the back of it. "If you are to protect him . . . Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

Bellatrix laughs, the same triumphant laugh I've heard from her many times before. "Aren't you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he'll try, I'm sure . . . The usual empty words, the usual slithering out of action . . . oh, on the Dark Lord's orders, of course!"

He's quiet for a short moment. "Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow," he says. "Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder?"

Snape kneels to the floor opposite of Narcissa. They grasp right arms.

A strong force throws me against the stone wall, but I hardly even notice. Two questions demand my attention: What is Draco being forced to do, and why has Snape allowed me see that?