CHAPTER 24

I'm sitting on the sofa before the fire when my friends finally enter the common room. For reasons unclear to me, I had wanted to be alone and chose to forgo attending dinner tonight. I forgot how crowded and loud Hogwarts can be, and though being back among my friends is nice, part of me still craves being alone sometimes. That might be one of the things I miss the most about Spinner's End—how quiet it was. Even when both Snape and I were working on his potions or eating, it was so quiet compared to the castle. And on top of that, it never felt socially draining to make potions with him. Every interaction here has been draining.

Daphne plops down beside me and leans against me, then throws her feet across the armrest and props a book on her lap. "Missed you at dinner," she says casually.

"Oh well." I pull my legs underneath me while the rest of our friends gather around the sofa. Astoria lifts Daphne's legs and sits down, then lowers them onto her lap and places her Potions book on Daphne's shins. Grant sits on the floor in front of us, leaning against the open space on the sofa and bringing out a textbook to read.

I close my eyes and rest my head back on the sofa.

"The pudding was great," Daphne adds.

"It's a shame I missed it."

"Don't be too disappointed—I swiped you some biscuits."

She reaches over her head and hands me two. A large smile comes to my face. "Thanks."

At some point I must doze off, because when I check my watch again it's nearly time for me to go to Snape's office for our lessons. I gently tap Daphne's shoulder, and she sits up so that I can get off the sofa with very little resistance. Once I've vacated the seat, Grant takes my spot, and she leans back against him.

I leave the common room and make my way to Snape's office where I knock and wait for permission to enter.

I'm smiling as I enter his office and take my usual seat in front of his desk. He watches me curiously for a brief moment before saying, almost casually, "You seem to be in a better mood today than usual."

"Is it that obvious?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"I got some good news today, is all. Professor McGonagall has agreed to continue our Conjuration lessons. I almost expected us not to be able to, but we can, so it's been a good day." My smile just grows wider. "I missed Hogwarts more than I realized. Not that I didn't enjoy my time at Spinner's End. Granted, I miss how quiet it was a Spinner's End."

A small smirk tugs at his lips as he nods like he understands.

I clasp my hands together. "I'm in a good mood, and I have a good feeling about these lessons. Let's do this."

He raises his wand, then casts the spells.

I'm sitting under a bridge, rain crashing down around me. I pull a hole-filled blanket tighter around myself and stare out at the empty road to my right. I'm almost thirteen.

A small sound comes from behind me, and I whip my head that way. A small kitten—soaked, probably having just now found shelter from the rain—stumbles toward me.

"Hello," I say to it. It stops moving and watches me. I look away and lean back against the bridge. A short while later the kitten starts sniffing my hand. I turn to it again. "Hello." Hesitantly, I pick it up and place it on my lap, then place some of my blanket around it. "We'll stay warm together."

Snape appears in front of me and crouches down before me. "You cannot let me see this much, Charlotte."

"I know," the memory me says. "I'm trying to push you out. Why can't I?"

"You must try harder."

I start petting the kitten's little head. Then I close my eyes and focus as much of my energy as I can into forcing Snape out of my memories. It does not work.

Suddenly I'm awake again, sitting in front of Snape. My brain throbs against my skull. "I don't understand," I say quietly, closing my eyes against the pain.

"It simply takes practice." I take a deep breath and open my eyes once more. "Ready?" He casts the spells again.

I'm fifteen, sitting on a pallet made of blankets in what is obviously a rarely used shed. I'm eating a sandwich and drinking hot chocolate from a thermos. Each breath creates a small cloud in front of me; it's freezing. I need to get out of this memory immediately. When I finish the sandwich, I pull one of the blankets around my shoulders and walk to the door. I peer through a crack and look upon a beautiful brick house. A family of three—the mother, the father, and the seventeen-year-old son, Alex—sit in the kitchen eating a meal. I want to be in there. I want to be inside. I want to be a part of the family.

Snape appears beside me. "When was this?"

"The winter before I was caught," I say, sniffing and rubbing my running nose, then turning my attention back to the house.

"Make me leave."

"I'm trying."

In the kitchen, the mother and father stand up and begin clearing away the table. Once they're away from the window, the boy turns to me, looking directly at the shed, and runs his hand through his brown hair. He grins at me and makes a point of folding some of the food into a napkin and sliding it into his pocket.

"Professor, leave."

"Charlotte—"

"Get out! Please, I don't want you to see this."

"The point is to make—"

"Get out!"

"You'll never learn if you don't force me out."

The backdoor to the house opens, and the boy emerges, still grinning.

"Get out!"

"Charlotte—"

"Leave, please! Please just leave! We'll try again with another memory."

"Force me out."

I turn to him, grab him by the front of his robes, and slam him against the wall. "GET OUT!"

I open my eyes in Snape's office, my lungs furiously trying to take in breath. "Before you ask," he says, his voice smug, "no, you did not manage to force me out of your mind."

"You should've listened to me sooner," I hiss, tears of fury pricking my eyes.

My tone seems to shock him slightly, but he recovers quickly and settles back into indifference. "That's not the point of the exercise."

I'm on my feet in seconds, my hands coming down on his desk with a pent-up rage I haven't felt toward him in a long time. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE POINT OF THE EXERCISE! YOU SHOULD'VE LEFT WHEN I TOLD YOU TO!" He doesn't seem the least bit bothered by my anger. "IF THERE'S SOMETHING YOU SHOULDN'T SEE, THEN YOU NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT WHEN I TELL YOU TO!"

"Will the Dark Lord leave your mind because you tell him to? Or will you be forced to kick him out?"

"You're not the Dark Lord, you're my"—he's not your friend, Charlotte—"you're my professor and I trust you. You should leave those memories when I ask until I am skilled enough to make you leave." I deflate and land back in my chair.

He watches me for a long moment before saying, "Being able to control your movements so thoroughly within your memories is a step in the right direction."

This almost brings a smile to my face, but my quivering lip kills it quickly. "Should we continue?"

He raises his wand again and gives me a second to prepare. Then he casts the spells.

I'm walking along the road with a kitten on my shoulder—the same kitten from my earlier memory. I reach up and touch its head, then give it a bite of my chips.

Snape is suddenly walking along beside me. "What happened to the cat?"

I look at its little face. "I actually don't know. I woke up one morning and he was gone. It's better that way, I suppose. I mean, I couldn't have provided for it very long."

"You need to force me out of this memory."

"I've been trying from the start. I can feel my head throbbing. I just don't know how."

"Take a deep breath, Charlotte, and then with all the force of your will—I know you have a lot—push me out. Take me elsewhere. I know you can do it."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, as he commanded, then I let out a scream as I force this memory away. We're in the last house I borrowed before Lucius caught me. It's dark outside, and I'm lying in the bed, a lamp on the side table casting light throughout the room. Curled in a ball on the pillow beside my head is a small black kitten.

"Is this the same cat?" Snape asks from where he stands facing the kitten and me from the other side of the bed.

I smile. "No, I Transfigured this one. His name is Shepard." I rub my thumb over the top of his head, and he opens his eyes briefly to look at me. Somehow, they now remind me of Snape's black eyes.

"You need to push me from the memory again."

Another scream escapes me as I try to shove him out of my mind. Only, I fail again to push him from my memories altogether. Instead, we end up in another memory—one I don't want him to see—but try as I might to force him out of this one, I am too weak and continue to fail.

I sit at a kitchen table in clothes that obviously aren't mine. They're too new and too warm and too big. I'm eating some sort of pasta, and it's the best thing I've had in months. It's warm and delicious and actually makes me feel comforted.

Across from me sits the boy from the last memory I didn't want Snape to see. He's eating too. And there's another boy beside him, his closest friend from what I remember. "Eat up, Charlotte," the friend says. "We'd hate for you to go hungry."

Snape now sits in the chair beside me. "Why would you come back to him?" I ask, my voice sounding pathetic and broken even to me.

"I didn't," he says. "You brought me here."

"Yeah, we gotta make sure you have some energy," the friend, Timothy, continues.

"Professor, please leave. I can't make you do it again—I'm too weak. Please leave."

"Charlotte—"

"Please," I whisper.

I open my eyes in Snape's office once more and wipe the tears from my cheeks, making a point of not looking at him but rather down at my feet. "Why did I take you there? I didn't want that," I say quietly.

He leans back in his chair. "In the learning process, the harder you try to avoid a certain memory, the harder it is to get away from it."

A ragged breath escapes me, and I pull my legs up into the chair with me and wrap my arms around them. "Can we take a break?" I ask airily, unable to use my voice in fear that it will crack, which will only make me cry right now. I can just manage to see him over the top of my knees.

"Yes." He waves his wand and starts doing something, but I don't bother to watch him. I just close my eyes, breathe evenly, and refuse to look at him. After a few minutes of this, he says softly, "Did they hurt you, Charlotte?"

I hide my face in my knees, exhale heavily, and whisper, "Yes." Clearing my throat and forcing myself to look up at him, I rest my chin on my knees and wipe the tears from my eyes. "They did."

"Were they wizards? Was your magic—"

"They weren't wizards," I continue, my voice hoarse and quiet. "They hurt me in exchange for food and shelter and water for the duration of his parents' absence." Heat rises to my cheeks and tears blur my vision, but I don't look away from him.

Something akin to pain flashes across his face before he reins it in. "Charlotte . . ."

"Please don't pity me."

"I'm not," he says softly. "I'm angry."

My voice is weak and pathetic and slightly defensive when I say, "I didn't have a choice. It was that or suffer out in the cold and—"

"I'm not angry with you, Charlotte. I'm angry with them."

The look in his eyes makes it seem that he is genuine when he says this, and it feels nice to have someone this angry on my behalf, someone who did not judge what I had to do. Especially about something that has haunted me for years. A few grateful tears slip down my cheeks.

"You found a way to survive rather than perish in the cold," he says finally. "And that's all that matters." He gestures to the tray in front of him, a distinct sadness in his eyes that he surely will not elaborate on and that I will not ask about. "Would you like some tea?"

A smile tugs at my lips, and I drag my chair closer to his desk. "Yes please." I put some sugar in my cup and stir it around for a minute. "Professor, what made you—what made you switch sides? Why did you defect?"

"I haven't defected."

In spite of myself, I laugh. "Fine, whatever. What made you become a double agent for the Dark Lord?"

"It's complicated."

"That's unhelpful and vague." I take a sip of tea and let it warm me for a moment. "Thank you." He waves his wand again, and a plate of cookies appears on his desk. Taking this as a sign that he's sharing, I grab one and nibble on it. "I didn't want to ask before, but the potions you had me brewing over the summer—those were the potions you would've taught me had I arrived at Hogwarts earlier, weren't they? I'd read about some of them before."

"They were. And you were doing quite well. You seem to have a knack for potioneering—could possibly have been a top student had you started earlier."

Whether he's lying or not, I neither know nor care because his words make me smile, and I let them sink in for a moment before finishing my cookie, taking another gulp of tea, and saying, "Should we continue with the lessons?"

"If you're prepared."

"I think I am." I wipe my face and lean back into my chair. Then I wave at him to continue, and he casts the spells.

I'm seven, at the orphanage, lying in my bed, tears in my eyes as they jerk frantically around the room, looking at the other five beds around me. Though something has clearly frightened me, my memory is far too faded to remember the details. I'm just looking around, horrified, trying to figure out if the other children in the room are awake. Finally, I sit up quickly, unsure what to do but certain that I can no longer lie here.

I slide off the bed and look around suspiciously, trying to make sure that no one else is awake, that no one knows I'm up right now. When no one questions me, I step lightly and make my way to the door.

"You need to block these memories," Snape says, now walking beside me.

My memory self looks up at him but doesn't speak. What if I woke someone up? That's not how this works, Charlotte. But that doesn't matter, because even though I can't remember what has frightened me so thoroughly, I remember the feeling and cannot bring myself to speak right now. I just continue walking, then push the door open and step out.

From down the hall comes the light of a television, and I head that way.

"Charlotte."

"I know, I know. I think I wasn't ready to start this again. I'm tired."

I come upon the room and see Mrs. Stoico watching some movie with one of the other workers. "Charlotte?" she asks when she sees me. "What're you doing out of bed?"

I look over my shoulder before stepping closer to her. "Someone's after me," I whisper. "They're trying to kill me."

"Charlotte, make me leave," Snape says.

With as much effort as I can possibly muster, I push Snape out of that memory but once again end up in another memory that I don't want him to see.

I'm standing with Alex in the shed at the same house as before. I have got to stop dwelling on this so much or else it's going to be the only memory I ever push him into when trying to move him around my mind.

Alex comes closer to me, smiling. "So, my parents are going out of town this week. Dad's business or something, I don't know."

"That should be fun for you," I say, looking back at the house and wondering what it must be like to have something like that all to yourself for a week with no fear that the owner might show up and try to kick you out.

"Well, I'm telling you, Charlotte, because that means it'll be easier for me to get food to you." A smile comes to my lips. "And you won't have to sleep out in the shed for the week."

Snape now stands beside Alex. "Charlotte."

"I know, I know." I look back at Alex. "Are you serious? You'll let me sleep inside?"

"In a bed and everything. Warm. Out of the rain and snow. You can be comfortable."

I throw my arms around his neck. "Thank you!" I cry. "Thank you!" I look at Snape once more. "Professor, I need you to leave."

Alex pushes me away from him. "Don't get too excited," he says. "I could get into a lot of trouble."

"I appreciate—"

"And so you're gonna have to pay—"

"I don't have any money. You know that."

He grins and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. I try to push Snape from my mind, but the attempt feels like my brain is ripping in two. I almost scream in pain. "There are other ways you can pay me, you know."

"Professor—"

"It could be fun for both of us." He places his hand on my hip and pulls me closer to him. "Hot meals, a warm bed, a nice shower. It can all be yours. You just have to play nice with me." Snape's eyes jerk over Alex. "And maybe a friend or two."

"Professor—"

Snape bends slightly as if trying to get a better look into Alex's face. "Or you can go back to living in the cold on the streets."

"Professor—"

I'm back in Snape's office, my face hot with embarrassment, my chest heaving with fury. "What the hell?" I yell. "You—I told you to leave! I asked for your help and you—you did nothing! You just stood there!"

"Charlotte—"

"I trusted you to leave when I couldn't get you out of memories like that!"

"You could've forced me out on your own."

"NO! No, I couldn't have! I couldn't get you out of that memory if my life depended on it! I tried to get you out but instead you went to that memory!"

"Charlotte, lower your voice."

"No! I trusted you to respect me enough—fuck you! I asked you leave those memories, and instead you stayed. You just wanted more reasons to judge me! I can't believe I actually believed you were—you didn't care what they did! You don't know what it's like! Living in the street, not knowing where your next meal will come from, not knowing if you'll freeze to death in the night! You stayed so you could see what I did that I didn't want you to see! I hate you!"

Snape stands to his feet. "Charlotte, you must learn to push me—and the Dark Lord—out of your mind even when you're at your most vulnerable, when you absolutely do not want him to see what he's trying to see."

I try to look him in the eye, but I can't—the humiliation is too much, so I keep my eyes trained on his shelves of potion supplies. "Can we be done for today?" I was in such a good mood earlier, and he's ruined it. He has absolutely ruined it. I can't bear to even look at him.

"Rodgers, I don't—"

"I can't do this right now. Please. It's getting late anyway, yeah?"

It takes him a short moment—though it feels like hours long—before he agrees. I bolt from his office without looking back or slowing down.

I throw the common room door open and, despite the fact that all of my friends are still awake, storm up to the dormitory, ignoring their confused looks and the sound of them calling my name. With a loud roar I ram my fist into my bedpost—pain blinds me temporarily and forces me to consider the possibility that my outburst just broke this damn hand.

Trying to calm myself down, I sit on the foot of my bed, bury my head in my uninjured hand, and breathe evenly. This goes on for a few moments until I hear, "Are you all right?" I look up and see Daphne standing in the doorway to the sixth-year girls' dormitory. "We saw you come in and—"

"I heard all of you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I try to wipe the tears from my eyes with my injured hand but have to stop—it's shaking too badly and hurts too severely to do anything with right now. "Snape's just being a prick."

"He gives you private lessons?" I nod. "In what?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts." It's not a total lie, but oh well. "There are some aspects of my life that require me to know certain defenses. He's teaching them to me."

"What's he teaching?"

I just blink at her.

"How'd he upset you?"

"He brought up something personal, and started asking questions, and wouldn't back down," I say.

Daphne sits down on her bed, the one next to mine. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I really can't, actually." Because she's around me too much and I don't know her that well. Zoe's different because she's a Muggle-born and is no longer around most of these people anymore, so it's not like others can find out my secrets or whatever. I mean, they can, but the risk seems smaller when I tell her than it does now that Daphne has offered to be a listening ear. After all, Daphne is a pureblooded witch with a family well-connected with other families who could potentially be sympathetic to Voldemort. The smallest slip of information—even if she did it accidentally—could endanger me. "There are things that won't let me, you know?"

"I get that."

It's quiet for a while, neither of us speaking and instead just letting ourselves enjoy this moment of peace. Then I say, "You don't have to sit up here. I didn't mean to drag you away from everyone else."

She shrugs. "It's getting late anyway, so why not? I'll see all of them tomorrow. And no offense to you or anything, but I kind of don't want to leave you alone right now."

Laughter escapes me despite my efforts to hold it back.

"And I think you might have broken your hand."

We look down at my purpling, shaking hand. "It does smart a good bit."

She watches me for a moment. "You know what might do you some good?"

"What?"

"First, we go to Madam Pomfrey and have her fix your hand—because it looks like it needs it. Second, we don't come back directly after she fixes your hand. Third, we call some house-elves for some food. Then we just wander. We can skip breakfast in the morning."

"So you just want to wander around the castle, eating food and doing nothing?"

She shrugs. "I'm very good at hiding when professors are coming. The trick is to walk around in the dark. You see their wand light long before they see you. I've always done it. I get restless sometimes."

The idea of not going to bed right now does sound appealing. It'd be nice to just take a break and do something I don't normally do, especially because I'm too riled up to go to sleep right now anyway.

Daphne grins at me. "You're thinking about it, aren't you? I can see it in your face. C'mon, let's go."

"What do we say to Madam Pomfrey when she asks what I did to my hand?"

"You fell and broke it. These stairs around here are very dangerous, you know."

This pulls a smile to my face, and she knows she's won. So she stands to her feet, grabs me by the arm, and forces me to my feet. "It's also very dangerous to walk around in the dark when there's so much junk around the corridors."

"Don't worry, Rodgers, I know this place very well. We just have to watch out for professors wandering around. We should be fine."

I let her lead me from the dormitory.