Harry felt sick again at that realization. Snape had probably even participated in whatever had happened to him. He was a Death Eater, after all, albeit a repented one.

As he thought about that, he felt his legs begin to tingle slightly. He felt as though his legs had fallen asleep and were just waking up. The sensation gradually increased until he was shaking slightly with pain. His legs hurt.

He clutched the blankets at his sides and clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. He did not want Snape back in there. In fact, anyone but Snape would be welcome at the moment.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but the pain. Thinking about it would only make it worse.

“Potter, you imbecilic child,” growled the voice of Snape. Harry opened his eyes again and glared at Snape.

“I don’t want your help,” he hissed at the man.

Snape ignored this and said, “You should have called for me as soon as you felt the pain.” He came over and began to reach for the blankets that were covering Harry’s legs.

Harry batted his hands away and said, “Don’t touch me.”

“Potter, unless you want to be in considerable pain until we can get a Medi-Witch here to examine you, I would suggest you let me help,” said Snape.

Harry remained glaring at Snape, but reasoned that he would have to let Snape help, however embarrassing it might be. He shoved the blankets back by himself, and then leaned back, watching Snape carefully. Snape handed him several brightly-colored potions.

Before consenting to drink them, Harry asked, “What are they for?”

“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you,” said Snape. “The yellow one is for the pain. The blue is a healing potion and the third is a sleeping potion.” Harry drank the yellow and blue, but balked at the third. If he was asleep, he was vulnerable. There was no way he would willingly do that.

“Potter, I will not murder you in your sleep. Now drink the potion,” said Snape irritably. Harry inwardly sighed.

If he refused, Snape would make him. Unwilling as he was to render himself helpless, he would have to. He drank the potion and handed the vial back to Snape.

“And what are you planning on doing while I’m asleep?” asked Harry.

“Working on healing you,” replied Snape.

'So much for being safe while he slept. Who knew what Snape would try to do to him,' he thought.

“Don’t touch me,” he ordered as sleep claimed him.

When he woke up, his legs were numb once more and he could see the blurry figure of Snape doing something across the room. Snape turned around and headed back over to him.

“What did you do while I was asleep?” he demanded to know.

“I told you before. I was healing you,” said Snape as he handed Harry a potion. It was blue, a healing potion. He drank it and passed the vial back.

“Why do I need to be healed?” asked Harry nonchalantly. Maybe if he acted unconcerned, Snape would tell him. Snape looked oddly at him.

“You mean, you don’t know?” asked Snape.

“Know what?” Snape turned away from Harry and picked something up off a table.

“Here. I will be back shortly,” said Snape. He handed Harry a box and headed for the door.

“Know what?” called Harry. Snape ignored his question and left Harry alone with the package.

Harry sighed and began to open the box. Was he ever going to get any answers?

Inside the box was a book whose cover he couldn’t read and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He grinned as he put them on and was finally able to see clearly. He reached for the book and saw that it was titled, Practical Defense Spells. Who had gotten that for him? Surely Snape wouldn’t have.

Regardless of who the book was from, Harry decided to read it. After all, there wasn’t anything else he could do until Snape came back.

He opened it up and a folded piece of parchment slid out onto his lap. He set the book aside and picked up the parchment. He carefully unfolded it and began to read.

Potter,

I do believe you shall find this book useful. I took the liberty of having the Headmaster owl it

along with your new glasses. The spells will be quite useful in your inevitable next encounter

with the Dark Lord. Do be sure and read all of it, as you and I are going to be staying here for some time, I might decide to quiz you.

Professor Snape

Harry folded the note back up and set it aside to use as a bookmark. He picked the book up again and opened it to the first page.

As he read through the first few spells, he began to realize something: the spells in the book weren’t exactly the usual sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts spells. Then, it hit him with startling clarity: these spells were Dark Arts. Had Snape gone insane? Giving a book like this to him?

Snape suddenly came back then, and Harry immediately voiced his concerns about the book.

“Does Dumbledore know what’s in this book?” To his surprise, the person who answered him wasn’t Snape, but the Headmaster himself.

“Both Professor Snape and myself are well aware of that particular book’s contents, and I must say, I am very much in agreement with his choice of reading material for you,” said the Headmaster with a small smile. “That particular book will be most informative to you, but alas, I am not here to discuss books.”

He pulled out his wand and conjured two squashy armchairs, then motioned for Snape to sit down and took a seat himself.

“Professor Snape’s discovery is most alarming, though not particularly surprising to me. After what you’ve……experienced this past year, it should not be much of a surprise to anyone,” said Dumbledore gravely.

“But I don’t know. That’s the problem,” said Harry.

“That is a problem for us as well. We also have no way of knowing what happened to you,” said Dumbledore, his eyes subdued.

“But what about Snape? He was there, I know it,” said Harry.

“Professor Snape was only there at the end, Harry,” said Dumbledore.

“But can’t I see his memories? You can put his memories in a pensieve or something,” asked Harry.

“I can’t do that Harry,” said Dumbledore gently.

“Why not?” Harry demanded to know.

“Because, Harry, I have seen those memories, and they are the stuff of nightmares. I would not wish them upon even Voldemort. Either way, you are not prepared to see them. Perhaps, when your memory is once again intact, you may, with Professor Snape’s permission. I want you to wait until you know what happened yourself.”

Harry was sobered by Dumbledore’s honesty. He still had that overwhelming need to know, but it was now abated, and for the moment, he was satisfied.

“I shall be sending Madam Pomfrey along as soon as possible,” said Dumbledore as he stood up and the chair he had conjured vanished. “I don’t know how long it will be until it is safe to send her, though.”

“We will manage,” said Snape. He stood up and his chair vanished too.

“I will return shortly, Potter,” said Snape and led the way out of the room, with Dumbledore following. Harry stared after them a moment, then returned to the book, though he was wondering what the two were doing.

Annuler Sommeil

This curse renders its victims unable to sleep, usually resulting in insanity, sometimes

even death.

The incantation is Annuler Sommeil, pronounced ah-new-lay soh-may. The wand

movement is a sharp point towards the intended victim.

This spell is restricted by the Ministry of Magic for its use in Dark Arts.

Harry stopped reading and looked up from the book. Reading about that spell had triggered something in his memory. Something…..just a spark of memory flashed into his mind…..and then it was gone, just as quick as it had come. He shrugged off the feeling of unease that had come over him and continued on to the next spell.

Eternal Sleep

Harry’s mind was piqued by this spell as well, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. He shoved the book aside angrily and glared at it. How could he have lost a whole year of his life?

However painful those memories might be, they were his, and he wanted them back desperately. As disturbing as they were bound to be, he needed to know. He ran his hand roughly through his hair, then tugged on it, making his hair stand on end.

“Potter, do you have nothing better to do with your time than make that rats nest you call hair even messier than usual?” drawled Snape from the doorway.

Harry dropped his hand and retorted, “Why don’t you go wash your hair?” He could swear that Snape actually growled. Rather than fighting, though, Snape stalked over and yanked something out of his pocket. He thrust the object at Harry, who could see that is was a vial of violently purple potion.

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Potter, do you actually believe that after risking my own life to save yours, I would poison you?” sniped Snape.

“No,” Harry muttered sullenly. Snape dangled the vial in Harry’s face. Harry glared at Snape’s hand, then grabbed the vial and downed it quickly. Oddly enough, he felt no effect at all from the potion.

“What was that for?” he asked curiously. Snape turned away and began shuffling some things around on the table.

Stalling for time, thought Harry. Either that, or just ignoring him. Snape then turned back to him, bearing a vial of sickly green potion.

“I’m not drinking that,” said Harry immediately.

“Yes, you are,” said Snape imperiously. Harry bit his lip and shook his head.

“Potter, have you any wish at all to get your memories back? I am trying to help you, and all you are doing is wasting my time,” said Snape nastily.

“Fine,” said Harry sullenly and reached for the potion. He grimaced at its bitter taste and handed the vial back.

“Now will you tell me what they’re for?” he asked irritably.

Snape started to reply, but Harry didn’t hear a word as he was plunged into darkness.