The two older hunters obviously recognized what they faced, drawing back in horror for a moment before springing back to assist the man to the ground. One of them said something to the two boys…the man’s son crumpled beside him while Joao stared.

“What’s wrong?” Potter repeated.

“Is poison. He dies.”

Severus frowned. “There is no antidote?” The boy looked up at him in confusion. “No cure?” he repeated impatiently.

“No.”

Given enough time, a sufficiently stocked workroom, and a store of the toxin to work with, Severus had no doubt that he could concoct an appropriate antidote. In the middle of a jungle with a dying man in front of him…. This is going to be difficult. I hope their village isn’t far, and that there is a competent healer there. Surely anyone who would hunt these creatures would know of some means of defeating their venom. “Potter, wait here with them. Help them construct a sling to carry him back.

“You think you can help?”

“I have a Mastery in potions, and there are plenty of wyrsa corpses with fresh venom for me to work with. Stay with them.” The ones that had fallen without a mark on them he avoided—without knowing what took them he didn’t want to chance approaching and finding out that they were merely stunned. The ones with spears in them, however…. Both the claws and fangs carried poison, but since the man hadn’t been bitten he ignored their teeth for the time being. It was rather bloody work, cutting the venom pouches out of the creatures’ claws without damaging them in the process—he hardly needed to have his own scratches infected—but he managed to get four safely secured in the collecting jars in his cloak before his concentration was broken. “Professor!”

“What, Potter?” He returned to the group to find one of the older hunters on the ground frozen, and the other three staring at the boy, eyes wide. The poisoned man was trying to push away from him. “What did you do?”

“Stupefied that one,” Potter said with a wave at the frozen man. “I had to—they were trying to kill him!”

“What?” He glared at the others. “What are you people thinking?”

“Kinder,” Joao said quietly, eyes wide. “Bad death—long, painful death. Curare fast.”

Well, that explains what killed the other wyrsa. A wave of his wand unfroze the man that Potter had stunned. “Don’t do that just yet. I think I might be able to help him. How far is your village? How long until he dies?”

“You healer?” the other boy—Vicente?—demanded, ignoring his questions. “You help?”

“I will try.”

Joao was busy translating to the other men, who clearly took a moment to size Severus up before nodding. “Boats, this way.”

It only took a moment to fashion a sling—the men were clearly familiar with the fauna in the area and knew which vines would support weight, and then they moved back through the jungle to where boats were tied. Judging by the suspicious looks the men—including the poisoned one—were giving him and his student they hadn’t forgotten the wands but were willing to forgo questioning until they found out whether he could do what he claimed. Brilliant. At least they didn’t panic. “Mr. Potter, you had best be prepared to become the world’s best assistant.”

“What?”

“Unless there is a healer in the village who speaks fairly good English, I’m going to need you chopping, slicing, mixing, and doing all manner of other tasks. Kindly take more care than you do in my class.”

“Do you really think you can help him?”

“I hope I can, for our sakes as well.” Apparently Potter hadn’t considered the ramifications of claiming he could heal an obscure poison and possibly failing. Severus had—even at St. Mungo’s there were stories of family members who had become enraged when healers couldn’t save their loved ones. He had no idea what the customs were in this place for such occurrences. And didn’t particularly want to find out. Then again, they were willing to kill him themselves…. Neither he nor Potter was paddling downriver—they were passengers in the boat being handled by Joao and his other uncle while the injured man was in the other boat. Just as well, really, he knew nothing about river travel and doubted Potter had any experience beyond the trip from the Hogwarts Express to the castle either. “How far is your village?” he asked again.

“Close.”

Which wasn’t really an answer, but there was no guarantee he would recognize whatever time- or distance-keeping method these people used anyway. Potter sat behind him, silent for once. Severus was tempted to tell him to keep practicing thinking in parallel, but he doubted the boy would be able to concentrate. It was two hours later, by his judgment, that the boats were brought in to a dock and they climbed the bank to find themselves in a fairly large village. Cheers turned into cries at the sight of the man lying on the stretcher, and Severus felt the boy move closer against his side. “What happens now, Professor?”

“I find something approaching a cauldron and someone who knows the local plant life. And we attempt to make contact with Hogwarts—I would have a much better chance in my workroom there.”

“Hogwarts?” a voice asked sharply.

Severus turned to face an older man. “You’ve heard of it? You speak English?”

The man held out a wand. “I was a student there, once, a very long time ago. Luciano Iacona, at your service.”

“Brilliant, you can help us!”

Severus glared at the boy. “Please excuse my student, he occasionally—” normally— “speaks without thinking. My name is Severus Snape; this is Harry Potter. One of you hunters was scratched by a wyrsa. I have a supply of the venom to work with, but I will need a workroom and ingredients in order to attempt a cure.”

“You believe you can help him?”

“I am a Potions Master; I am going to try. Certainly a better option than allowing them to kill him outright.”

“Why hasn’t anyone figured out an antidote already?” Potter asked.

“There was one once, but the knowledge has been long since lost. The fantasmas mortíferos —the deadly ghosts, what you call white wyrsa—disappeared into the forest when my grandfather was young and haven’t been seen since, and the fantasmas de caçada—ghosts of the hunt, your black wyrsa—do not have poison. I didn’t believe the creatures had returned until a group of children were attacked outside the village several days ago…two of them were taken, and the last three did not have easy deaths.”

“Why did they come back? The wyrsa, I mean?”

“The forests are being destroyed. If their territory was taken by the logging companies it was only natural that they seek out new hunting grounds.” He glanced up at Severus. “You are welcome to use my home for your work.”

Severus nodded his thanks. “How long do I have?”

“His muscles are unable to support him already…in perhaps a day he will begin to have visions. The stories say no one survives past the third day of visions; none of the children survived past the second day. The hunters were told to use the curare in case of infection…it is a far kinder death.”

So perhaps as little as three days using unfamiliar supplies…he had hoped for at least a week, which would have given him time to get back to Hogwarts and his ingredient stores. With less than that he would have to remain here; the time spent in transit would make it impossible for him to develop a cure and get it back to the village in time to save the man. “Can we contact Hogwarts and let them know that we’re safe?”

“I have a connection to the floo network in Rio de Janeiro…you can pass on a message to someone there to forward to the school if you desire.”

Severus thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Better the two of us go ourselves, when we are able.” Potter looked ready to argue, and he silenced the boy with a glare. The last thing we needed was the Dark Lord intercepting any kind of message. Surviving the jungle only to be captured on our way back to safety would be supremely ironic. “Three days longer will hardly cause any more consternation than our disappearance already has.” He glanced around and found that in the time they’d spent talking to the man, the area had emptied and the injured man taken away. “I had best get to work.”

Luciano nodded. “Of course, this way.”

“Are you familiar with the plants in this area?”

“Certainly. Unfortunately, while I have limited healing knowledge Potions was perhaps my worst subject and I haven’t improved a great deal in the interim. I am a teacher for several of the villages in the area, and occasionally a recruiter for the Escola de Rio de Magia—the Rio School of Magic.”

Severus nodded. It was the largest magic school in South America, with a fairly good reputation. Both in terms of the caliber of the students it turned out and which side of magic the majority chose to study. “That’s quite all right; Mr. Potter will be assisting me.” He glared down at the boy for good measure, and was pleased to see the boy gulp. So I haven’t lost all my powers of intimidation. Good.

“What do we do first?” Potter asked as they moved into the man’s hut and Severus began to organize the materials he needed. Luciano had disappeared, probably to speak to the injured man.

“Clean out those cauldrons,” Severus ordered. “Without magic.”

“On the wrong side of the planet and I’m still in detention,” Potter muttered. “Wouldn’t magic be faster?”

“Faster, certainly, but far less safe. If you ever paid attention, you would know that the presence of magic, even that of a simple cleaning spell, can have adverse affects on the potions being brewed. Since we have a limited time and unfamiliar ingredients to work with, I would prefer not to take chances.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“I gathered as much.” Luciano had given him free access to take whatever he needed, and fortunately followed the common magical convention of naming things in Latin so he had at least a general idea of the properties of each. “Today we are going to begin breaking down the venom and determining its properties. If we can isolate the factors having an effect on his body we can attempt to neutralize them.”

“How long does that usually take?”

Ideally, five days, minimum, just to isolate the components…. “In this case we’re going to have to begin with stopgap measures tomorrow…attempt to halt any damage being done to his body and slow the progress of the poison. We’ll begin with standard antivenoms, assuming that they do not react negatively with the toxin.”

“Wouldn’t they have already tried that?”

“I plan to ask precisely what treatment regimen was followed when Luciano returns and work around that. Now, get those cauldrons clean. We don’t have time to waste.”

There wasn’t running water in the man’s home, Severus was rather dismayed to find, but Potter was able to clean the things down at the river where several others were also doing their washing. What that meant for the sanitary conditions…well, there was no point in worrying about that now. He was, however, pleasantly surprised at the range of ingredients available, including a few he had never expected to find in the middle of a jungle. Wormfern, that’s very useful as a neutralizing agent, and I doubt he would have thought to use it since it only works in conjunction with a stronger…

By the time he judged that they’d done as much as possible the sun had long since fallen. Several pots and cauldrons still simmered on the fire—by the next morning the results would be ready for analysis. He studied the boy in the remaining firelight. “Are you alert, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

To the boy’s credit, once Severus explained why he wanted things done in a certain way he hadn’t hesitated to comply. It would make my life much easier if he’d behave like this in class. Then again, lives do not generally hang in the balance in those situations. Of the two of them, Potter had done most of the physical work, running all over the village either in search of Luciano to ask another question or to get another cauldron or more water or a particular plant. Severus had found paper and spent most of his time making copious notes on the effects of the venom, both from firsthand accounts of those who’d seen the children die—not pleasant interviews, even through an interpreter—and from what he’d been able to establish with the more elementary tests. He has to be exhausted. But then…perhaps this is the best time to practice. Severus could hardly deny that he was tired as well, but he always had a hard time sleeping when he had a new problem to concentrate on. And they had the place to themselves; the older man was staying with his son while they used his rooms. “Do you believe you are capable of attempting Occlumency?”

“Now? I…yes, sir.”

“Take a seat, then.” Severus moved to sit down on the cot set up next to Potter’s. Clear your mind.” He took out his wand. “One. Two. Three. Legilimens.” There was confusion, a fleeting glimpse of a dusty attic at Hogwarts, and then he was in an outdoor maze. A woman—a girl, the Tri-Wizard tournament competitor from Beauxbatons, he recognized absently—was lying motionless in the dirt, and he spun, shooting red fireworks into the sky. That should have ended his participation then and there, Severus realized. Apparently Crouch meddled with more of the tournament than we realized. He body he was inhabiting looked around wildly as the girl disappeared, and then a man was there—Krum—

“Expelliarmus!”

Severus found himself flung backward off the cot. “Potter…”

“I—I’m sorry, Professor, honest, I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you meant to, you wanted me out of your mind. And I must admit it was effective.” He shook his head. “However, unless the Dark Lord is standing directly in front of you—in which case his use of Legilimency should hardly be your primary concern—it is not the best defense for you to develop. Give me your wand.”

“What?”

“I don’t intend to spend the entire evening getting blasted onto the floor, and I’m certainly not going to waste my energy needlessly in a shield. Give me your wand.” Child, if I was going to seriously injure you, I’d have tossed you off a branch days ago. “I give you my word that I will return it as soon as we finish.” Potter reluctantly passed him the thin stick of wood. “Thank you. Just for my peace of mind, how much wandless magic are you capable of performing?”

“It depends how desperate I am,” Potter admitted. “Unless it gets really bad, probably nothing will happen.”

“How much wandless magic have you performed previously?”

“Expelliarmus, once,” he admitted. “But it was a couple years ago—I didn’t know what it was at the time. And I made glass disappear and reappear another time—I wasn’t really desperate then, though, just mad—and I guess locks have opened when I needed them to. Once in awhile I could hide, but that might have just been stupidity on their parts.”

Severus didn’t comment on that, sighing as he set the wand aside and checked behind to cot to make sure that if he was sent backwards again he was in no immediate danger of a either a head injury or causing serious damage to Luciano’s property. “All right, Harry, clear your mind. One. Two. Three. Legilimens.” This time the view of the attics lasted a moment longer—he was fairly certain that it was the one just behind the owlry, actually—and then he was in a courtyard somewhere. There were young children everywhere…most of them were his size or larger so he surmised that Potter must have been only a year or two into primary school when this memory was created. He could feel someone pushing at his mind, but there wasn’t enough force behind the effort to evict him. Suddenly he was shoved from behind—physically—and landed face first in gravel. What the—?

A blond boy, as wide as he was tall, stood above him laughing, and Severus realized that he was still in Potter’s mind. There were two others with the one who’d shoved him, both dark haired and skinny. “We want to play a game, freak?” the blond asked. “We want to play Harry-hunting.”

Harry-what? Severus didn’t understand what the little whale meant, but the child whose body he currently inhabited clearly did, and almost before he realized it he was back on his feet and flying away from the trio. A panicked glance back revealed that the blond and the smaller of the two dark-haired boys had fallen back, but the other was right on his heels. Eric? Aaron? He vaguely recalled Potter mentioning that only one of his cousin’s friends had been able to keep up with him, but the name escaped him. When he looked back out of the child’s eyes, he found himself trapped against a brick building with the dark-haired boy standing in front of him blocking any possible escape route with an absolutely evil grin on his face. The other two were visible in the distance, closing slowly. And then, before they could get close enough to do any damage, the world twisted and he found himself perching on top of a brick structure, staring down at a group of children below.

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!”

Severus blinked, finding himself back on the cot staring at a shivering Potter. “Harry-hunting?” he asked when he’d gotten his voice back.

“Chasing me down and clobbering me,” the boy responded after a moment, shaking himself sharply to dispel the last of the tremors and rubbing at his forehead. “A fun game for all concerned, with the exception of me.” His voice was decidedly bitter.

“Why didn’t you inform anyone of this situation?”

“I tried. My teachers said I was either being a baby and tattling or just lying outright, my aunt and uncle think everything Dudley does is just wonderful…well, who else was I supposed to tell?”

That is…distinctly disturbing, Severus decided. “Surely someone noticed something wasn’t right when you apparated yourself to the top of the school building.”

“They said I climbed up there,” Potter said with a shrug. “After all, what else could have happened? I half-believed that’s what happened myself, at least until I got back to the Dursley’s and Dudley told them what he saw….” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I guess I haven’t thought about it in awhile, it just came back when you talked about wandless magic. I’m tired, Professor, can I go to sleep now?”

Severus wanted to question him further, but the look in the boy’s eyes didn’t encourage probing. “Sleep then. But attempt to clear your mind first.” He made a quick check of the cauldrons before settling himself into his cot, doing his best to banish the images he’d seen from his mind. “Your second attempt was much better, Harry,” he offered quietly, suspecting that the ‘sleeping’ child beside him was doing nothing of the sort. “You held me in the attic for several seconds. You just need to practice the part where you throw the invader from your mind.” There was no response from the cot behind him. “Goodnight, Mr. Potter.”

A few more moments of silence, and then, “Goodnight, sir.”

The next morning, the rising sun woke him before his student. Potter had curled himself so far into a ball that the light would never reach his eyes. Debating for a moment whether to awaken the boy, Severus finally decided to leave him alone. Most of what I need to do this morning is analytical work…the last thing I need is him interrupting me and disturbing my calculations. The first cauldron didn’t bear much of anything useful…just confirmed that the venom was deadly in its pure form. Hardly news. He’d have skipped the test entirely if it hadn’t been drilled into him during his Mastery exams to take nothing for granted. The second and third were strained components—he planned to use them to test possible antidotes for unpleasant reactions. More diluted would be better, but that could come later. The rest were what he needed to analyze what actually caused the reactions, and he settled down to study their contents.

“Professor? What are you working on?”

Severus glanced outside and realized that it was several hours after he’d first begun to work. “Mr. Potter, I knew my day was going too well.”

The boy ignored the comment. “Can I help you with something?”

Volunteering to work on potions, this is a first. “I suppose you could go scrub out those two cauldrons—make sure you don’t have any cuts on your hands, first—and find the woman who gave you the leaves with the bright blue veins. I’d like more leaves, and the stems with them if at all possible.”

“You think you found something?”

“Part of something, perhaps. Go on.” He checked the bandages on his hands and arms absently, but whatever was in the sealant that he’d been given was working wonders.

The first possible antidote was ready a few hours after noon. It didn’t completely neutralize the poison, but it did counter some of the more potent elements, at least for a limited amount of time. Luciano had stopped by for a few moments to suggest other herbs that might have a positive effect, but most of the man’s time had been spent with the injured hunter’s family. Severus was with them when the first dose of the antidote was delivered—he’d insisted that Potter remain behind in case something unpleasant happened. “Ask him how he’s feeling,” Severus suggested after they’d coaxed the first dose down the man’s throat and he stopped shaking and muttering. “Does he feel any numbness? Is the tightness in his chest releasing, even slightly?”

Luciano relayed the questions and passed the answers back. “He’s back in our reality, although he can’t feel his extremities. And it is marginally easier for him to breathe.”

The loss of feeling bothered Severus—it hinted at possible nerve damage that he might not be able to heal. However, there was no point in telling them that just yet. “Acceptable. Administer another dose every four hours, and inform me if there are any major changes.”

“For how long will this antidote work?” he asked.

“I do not know. Repeated exposure will likely lessen its effects…it may give him a day or two longer than he would have had otherwise, but it is unlikely to give him more than that. However, within that period it should lessen his pain and prevent the majority of the hallucinations.”

“I understand.”

Severus returned to the hut where the rest of his attempts at antidotes waited. “Potter, what are you doing?”

“I’m just looking, Professor.” The boy backed away from the cauldrons.

“Well, as long as you’re just looking, begin mixing this powder into that one, half a spoonful at a time while mixing continually in a counterclockwise direction. Make certain it is all absorbed before you add the next spoonful.” There was very little the boy could mess up with that cauldron...Severus was trying to create a diluted form of the poison that he could handle more freely. There were medical applications, of course, but mostly he wanted something that could be taken out and tested quickly without the precautions he had to take with the more concentrated samples. The three cauldrons nearest the fire held the best chances for antidotes, and those were what he wanted to focus on. Perhaps if I add more of the spiderroot base…

The first cauldron went up in explosive flames less than an hour later, and Severus waved them away with the ease of long practice. “Whoa, I thought only Neville did that,” Potter commented from his corner.

So help me, if you just compared my abilities in potions to those of Longbottom, I will turn you over to the Dark Lord. “Excuse me?”

The boy colored. “Uh, sorry, Professor. I just meant…ah…um…it blew up.”

He did. That little brat! “Your powers of observation astound me, Mr. Potter. However, I believe I can be excused as I am working with completely unfamiliar materials to devise an antidote than hasn’t existed for a hundred years. Your idiot classmate, on the other hand, manages to achieve such results even with ingredients you should all be well familiar with and a step-by-step recipe to follow.” Severus glared down at the cauldron, remains of the failed potion still smoldering in the bottom. The smell was somewhat reminiscent of the shed in which Hagrid kept food for his more…interesting pets. And a quick shake proved that the mixture was hardening quickly and adhering to the sides as it did so. “I believe I have had enough of your help in here, for the time being,” he decided. “Take this down to the river and scrub it out. Thoroughly.” With your tongue.

Potter made a face as he approached. “I could borrow you another one.” He tapped the side, studying the mixture inside and apparently coming to the same conclusion Severus had as to the difficulty of the assignment. “It would probably be faster.”

“Nonsense, this is a perfectly good cauldron, and I have several others if I need one immediately. Just make sure that all the…remains are scrubbed free before you bring that one back.” He gave a satisfied smirk as the boy disappeared with an unhappy look on his face. We’ll see if you make that mistake again. Setting up a pot with the same mixture as the one that had exploded for further testing—perhaps if I first added a unifying element before attempting neutralization?—and moved on to the next attempt simmering by the fire.

It too, was a disappointment—less spectacular than the first, but still the mixture inside wouldn’t cure a toothache never mind combat the poison coursing through the man’s blood. The cauldron he’d sent Potter to clean had reappeared at some point while he was working, but the boy had made himself scarce. Wise decision, child. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to leave the brat wandering the village alone—he didn’t speak the language and was bound to find some form of trouble sooner or later. Limbs protested as he stood, and again he missed his workroom. The working conditions here left a bit to be desired.

He stepped out into the light and realized that he’d worked through most of the afternoon…missed breakfast and lunch as well, as his stomach was protesting. “Potter?” A glance around the immediate area didn’t yield any sign of the brat. He moved towards where a group of women were working. “Hello? Have any of you seen a child named Harry Potter?” He held a hand a chest level, mimicking the size of the person he was looking for. One shook her head, whether to indicate lack of understanding or that she hadn’t seem him he didn’t know. “Thank you anyway.”

“Professor?”

He turned, glaring at the approaching boy. “Where have you been?”

“Joao and his brother Miquel found me when I was cleaning your cauldron…I’ve been helping them with English and they’ve been teaching me Portuguese. I was just coming to find you and tell you that we’re invited to join them for dinner.”

“And I don’t suppose it occurred to you to inform me of your whereabouts?”

Potter frowned. “I did tell you, Professor, when I dropped off the cauldron. You didn’t say anything, so I figured it was okay.”

That was possible, actually, Severus acknowledged. When he was working he tended to block out the rest of the world—during the summers when he was doing most of his experimentations back at Hogwarts Albus had made a habit of either dropping by once a day or sending someone else to do so to force him to stop and eat if he hadn’t done so already. Minerva had once resorted to jumping on his shoulder in her Animagi form to get his attention. As he recalled, she hadn’t been pleased when he very nearly dumped her into a vat of improved dreamless sleep in surprise. But then I wouldn’t have cared for the effects of cat hair in my creation either. “Very well; most of what I am working on will not be ready for more work until later tonight. I suppose you know the way?”

The boy nodded and fell into step beside him. “Did you find something that will work?”

“Not yet.” A quick glance around proved that no one was within easy listening distance. “After we eat, we will try another Occlumency lesson.” Potter didn’t look pleased with that pronouncement, but he didn’t attempt to argue.

“This is it.”

Dinner passed surprisingly pleasantly—Joao’s younger brother had a much firmer grasp of the English language than Joao did and was able to translate fairly easily for Severus. Potter and the older boy were trading phrases back and forth—judging by the expressions on their faces it was just as well that the conversation was too low for most of the others at the table to understand. No one brought up the wyrsa poisoning, for which he was grateful…all in all a pleasant distraction. He finally stood, excusing himself politely. “Come, Mr. Potter, we have work that needs to be finished.” At least two of his latest attempts would be ready for continued experimentation.

“Professor?” the boy asked as they walked back to their current lodgings.

“What?”

“Can you just call me Harry?”

“And why, if I may ask, would I want to do that?” The last thing I need is to encourage familiarity with the brat.

“Because it’s…I don’t know, I just like it better. You’ve done it a couple times in the last few days.”

“Mere slips of the tongue. We are not friends, and I have no desire to give these people the impression that we are.”

“Actually most of them think you’re my father.”

His—his father! Bad enough that I’m stuck with that…that arrogant Gryffindor, but to believe that I am related to him! Severus sputtered for a moment, before managing an explosive “WHAT!” Potter’s snickering didn’t improve his mood, and for a moment he considered the ramifications of strangling the little brat and blaming it on the snake they’d met the other day. Obviously the child had been saving this little tidbit of information for when it would prove most amusing for him.

“Well, we got here together, and I guess we’ve both got dark hair,” Potter finally responded when he managed to stop laughing. “I keep telling them you’re just my teacher, but most of them just ignore me.”

Well, I can hardly blame them for that. “Brilliant.”

“So, see, I know you can’t do it back at Hogwarts because of Vo—the Dark Lord finding out, but doing it here wouldn’t really make any difference.

I suppose he has a point, Severus had to admit. Not that he didn’t plan on hexing into oblivion the next person he caught referring to himself and the brat as any sort of relation, but compared to that calling him by his first name was hardly an issue. “You will continue to refer to me as ‘Professor’, understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Hm.” He checked the two cauldrons he was most interested in and found that they could stand to simmer a bit longer. “It seems we have time for an Occlumency lesson.”

“Great.” Potter took a seat on one of the cots and held out his wand. “I’m ready.”

“We shall see.” Severus set the boy’s wand on the table and drew his own, settling himself onto the other cot. “One, two, three, Legilimens.” Again he saw the attics at Hogwarts—that was definitely the one behind the owlry—and pushed a little farther. Instead of snapping immediately into a memory, he entered another attic…this one he wasn’t familiar with. And then he pushed again and found himself in a garden tugging futilely at some sort of weed. Nice try, Mr. Potter. This memory appeared to be fairly innocuous…certainly the boy was hot and he could use a pair of gloves, but he should be able to figure that out for himself.

“Boy, aren’t you done, yet?” Severus wanted to rub his ears at the shriek—such an irritating, grating voice.

“Almost, Aunt Petunia.”

“Well, hurry up or you’ll get no dinner tonight. I want everything looking perfect for my precious Duddlykins birthday.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia. Precious Dudlykins, my…” he trailed off muttering under his breath and Severus ignored the words. He could feel Potter—Harry—pushing at his mind, but was in no way budged, and he gave another push, moving farther into the boy’s memories. Now he was somewhere dark…dark and cramped. He—well, Harry—tried to stretch and his feet hung off the end of a small bunk. And then the room began to shake. An earthquake? Surely not.

Several loud bangs came from directly above him. “Potty! Potty, wake up! Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Each call was accentuated with another crash from above.

There was a loud bang on what Severus assumed was a door, and then, “Freak!”

This time the shove at his mind was much more forceful, but rather than snapping him back into his own body on the cot he was pushed farther backwards. He found himself crouched in front of his father, trying desperately not to cry. The man was ranting, towering over him with his fists clenched…. I know this memory…. It had been one of his first bouts of accidental magic; his father’s car had nearly hit his cat and he’d blown up something in the engine when he’d tried to make it stop. His father had not been pleased. Conscious thought caught up with him as he filtered the terror in the mind of his seven-year-old self from his own. How dare he go into my mind! I told him specifically not to even attempt it! I warned him…. Severus gave a practiced mental twist and found himself back on the cot, the boy facing him and breathing heavily.

“I—I’m sorry, Professor, I don’t know what happened!”

“I do,” he growled back. “You deliberately disobeyed me.” His wand was clenched in his hand as he stood.

Potter sprang up to face him. “But I didn’t!”

Severus ignored him. “I told you not to go into my mind…told you very clearly, and as I recall you agreed.”

“But I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

“Of course, you didn’t want me in your memories, so you accidentally invaded mine. I was—”

“But that’s what hap—!”

“Silence! I was under the impression, Mr. Potter, that you were finally beginning to use that brain in your head, but it seems that I was mistaken.” His glare intensified as the boy opened his mouth to interrupt again, and Potter’s mouth snapped shut. “Sit back down on that bed. We will finish this Occlumency lesson, and rest assured, I will not be as easy on you as I have been.”

Potter paled most pleasantly as he sat back down. “Professor, please, it was hones—”

“You are hardly in a position to speak about honesty given as you’ve already broken your word once tonight. And now you’re refusing to own up to it; so much for Gryffindor courage.”

The boy’s face darkened. “I’m not ly—”

“Legilimens!” Severus hissed. With anger strengthening the force behind the command, the image of the attics lasted only for a fraction of a second. He blasted through more darkness, images of bright light, a green flash, and suddenly he had a sharp pain in his head and something was preventing him from breathing freely.

“Worthless freak!”

What on Earth…? He was still in Potter’s mind, and the boy was trying valiantly to draw breath, but the man who had him by the throat was several times his size—several times my size, at least in terms of weight, Severus acknowledged—and wasn’t letting go. He was shoved backwards, his head banging into the wall behind him, and Severus realized what the pain had been before.

“We take you in, we feed you, we protect your worthless hide for years, and this is how you repay us! You dare to bring that freakishness into our house!” Another slam into the wall—he saw stars, but at least Potter was able to draw a full breath as the hand went slack for a moment. “I’ll teach you to respect this house.”

The grip on his throat was removed, and the hand refastened on his arm, dragging him down a hall and up a staircase. “No, Uncle, please, I didn’t do anything! I’m sorry, I swear, please!” The boy fought to get away, but he had no chance against the man’s sheer weight.

Sweet Merlin. The blood wards may protect him against the Dark Lord, but they’ll do nothing against his relatives. The world twisted as he was thrown to the ground and the man reached up into a closet.

“PROTEGO!” The world twisted again as Severus was thrown backward off the cot by the shielding spell. Potter was standing, his eyes wide and his entire body trembling. Their eyes met for a moment, and then the boy bolted from the hut and into the darkness.

“Potter! Harry!”