He had finally finished thinking of all the ways he could exploit his newly found leverage on Potter, and he had a rough plan in mind to move things forward. All that remained now was to go through with things. Potter still needed time alone, so to pass the time Snape sat studying a new potion manuscript at his desk. Normally the text would have captured his complete attention, but he found that he was only mildly interested in the contents of his book. He was really interested in other knowledge.

Snape rested his chin in the cool palm of his right hand and read his book through half-closed eyelids. Really Snape looked like a bored student trying desperately to focus on a dull assignment. The book he was reading really was dull when he compared it to the idea of trying to get Potter to confess what had occurred during his four-week absence from his relatives’ home. Snape tried his best to concentrate on his book, as well as to ignore his body’s nagging urge to take a catnap.

Snape would never admit to it out loud, but he really was very tired. Severus hadn’t rested much since arriving at Hogwarts with Potter. Everything had really been focused on Potter and his need to be cured of the poison he’d ingested. Within five minutes Snape had lost his battle to stay alert in the quiet of the dungeon classroom. It was unfortunate that there weren’t any students around to witness the stoic professor asleep at his desk.

********

He knew within moments that he was no longer in his dungeon classroom. This was another dungeon, and he knew this place from somewhere. There was a very strong presence of dark magic here. The sense of dark power seemed to emanate from the dungeon itself. In the distance, down a dark, damp corridor, Snape could hear the sound of cruel laughter, and familiar screams of agony. He knew that voice. Those were Potter’s screams. Snape slowly began the journey toward the source of the voices.

Severus felt a chill pass through him as he heard Potter release a particularly anguished cry. The boy’s subsequent screams were not nearly as intense; his voice was giving out. Snape approached Potter’s cell, and was startled when the magically locked door suddenly clicked open for him. He hadn’t even had the chance to cast an unlocking charm.

Snape withdrew his wand from the folds of his dark robes to defend himself against the dark wizard in the cell with Potter. Gently Snape pushed the heavy wooden door open a bit more and peered inside of the gloomy cell. There was only Potter. The boy had been left alone with his remaining misery.

Whoever had been torturing the boy just moments ago had gone without a trace. Perhaps whoever it was had apparated away when Snape had come too close for comfort. It didn’t matter where they had gone as long as they stayed away. He didn’t want to have to fight anyone here.

Snape kept his wand drawn and slowly approached Potter with catlike caution. The boy quivered on the floor in a puddle of murky water.

“Potter.” Snape reached down and gently shook the boy by the shoulder. “Potter, are you all right?”

At the sound of Snape’s voice, the young wizard suddenly became alert. His eyes opened wide, and he frantically attempted to shrink away from the Potions Master. The boy tried to speak; Snape had to lean down to try and hear him clearly.

“Please,” Potter whispered in a hoarse voice because of all of the screaming he’d done. “Please, Professor. No more.”

Snape pulled back from the boy, and he shook with new, unharnessed rage.

What the devil was going on?

There was anger building inside of him; this was an anger he couldn’t hold back for very much longer. His pale hand trembled slightly as he tightened his grip on his wand. Snape felt a new heaviness about his shoulders, and he realized that he was now wearing a thick, dark cloak over his already heavy wizard’s robes. He coldly watched Potter as he trembled on the floor from beneath the shelter of his cloak hood.

Potter whimpered in pain, and looked up at Snape with pleading eyes. With a sneer Snape aimed his wand at the unarmed boy. Without a second thought he cast the unforgivable curse of torment upon Harry Potter. Potter’s screams of raw, uncontrolled agony began anew. Severus felt no pity for the boy; he was glad to see him suffer this torment. Snape’s dark eyes glowed with sinister pleasure at the gruesome sight. The boy deserved every second of agony. Every moment of searing pain was justified. The Potions Master threw his head back and laughed as Harry Potter screamed out for mercy.

Snape started awake. Thankfully he was back in his own dungeon. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, as if he had been running. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, and he failed miserably. There was only one thing he could think of doing now. He needed to talk to Potter in spite of the fact the boy had no desire to reveal anything.

Snape entered Potter’s cell, and felt a familiar chill pass through him. This room was almost identical to the one he’d seen in his dream, and to what he’d seen in Potter’s memories. Severus swallowed a small amount of guilt. Now he understood why Potter wanted out of this room so badly. These were all too familiar surroundings for the boy.

***

Snape looked angry, upset even. Something was very wrong. Harry knew he hadn’t done anything. Harry had been quiet for hours, and he hadn’t broken anything else. The young wizard wondered what was the matter now.

“Potter, do you remember who the Death Eater was that tortured you while you were being held captive?” Snape did his best to keep his voice even and smooth.

I’ve tried to forget, but you won’t let me. Harry nodded, he remembered it all too clearly.

“Who was it?” There was a twinge of desperation in Snape’s voice. He needed to know this now. Malfoy, it has to be Malfoy. He despises the boy more than any of us. Please let it be him.

“Are you saying that you don’t know, sir?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Was it Malfoy?”

At this Harry gave a small laugh, and Snape felt his dark heart fall a little. “No, sir. I’d know Malfoy’s drawling tone anywhere. And I don’t believe Malfoy has a great deal of knowledge concerning potions, sir,” Harry’s tone seemed to darken slightly with accusation.

Potter seemed to be toying with him, and apparently the boy was enjoying himself very much. Severus however, was not amused. This was no time for childish games.

“Potter! Who . . . was . . . it?”

“I told you that you already know who it is, sir. You just don’t want to admit that you know.”

Snape stepped back from the boy, anger was building in him. He needed to leave the room now before he did something that both he and the boy would regret dearly. He quickly stormed out of the boy’s prison, locking the bolt behind him with a familiar metal click.

This isn’t possible. I didn’t do it. Surely a man would remember doing a thing like that. Wouldn’t he?

Severus intended to owl Albus to see if he knew anything further on the matter. As the Potions Master attempted to put a quill to parchment, he found that he could not properly express what he had to say in writing. He needed to talk to Dumbledore. Snape glanced around stupidly looking for a fireplace in his dungeon classroom. He knew that he had no floo powder here either. Why was he even looking? With a growl of irritation at the inconvenience of the placement of fireplaces he trudged up the stairway toward his office.

Silently the Potions Master prayed that Albus Dumbledore would offer him some reassuring words about the subject. Severus knew in his heart that Harry Potter wouldn’t insinuate something if he didn’t believe it to be true. Snape could only hope that there was a first time for everything.

Once he had made it to his office, he quickly grabbed a fistful of floo powder from a small bowl on his mantle, and tossed the stuff into the fireplace. “Albus Dumbledore!” Snape shouted in an almost frantic tone.

Surely Dumbledore could set this right. If the Headmaster couldn’t help him, he didn’t know what to do next.

When Snape saw Dumbledore’s face he became more agitated than before. The Headmaster’s constant look of blissful calm was almost sickening. Dumbledore patiently instructed Severus to take a breath and compose himself before continuing. Snape obeyed the quiet order in spite of his furious desire to know exactly what was going on.

“Ah, now that’s much better,” Dumbledore said with a small, amused smile. “Now then, what is it that you wanted to tell me, Severus?”

Snape cleared his throat and searched for a proper way to begin things. “It is in regards to Harry Potter, Headmaster.”

“I trust that his health has improved since he has been under your care.”

“His physical health has started to improve; he grows stronger with each day that passes. It is his mental state that troubles me, sir,” Snape lowered his voice as though he feared a backlash of some kind.

“The boy has been put under considerable strain before, Severus. Harry is stronger than you believe him to be.”

“I do not doubt your word, Headmaster,” Severus halted as he tried to consider his next words with care, “but I have reason to believe that he was tortured by Death Eaters during his absence from his muggle relatives. The boy may have broken under the pressure.”

“Yes, Severus, I have been aware that Harry had been mistreated for sometime now. However, I have reason to believe that his mind is still intact.”

Snape almost asked how Dumbledore possibly could have known anything about Harry’s disappearance, but he immediately thought better of it. Still, it was strange that Dumbledore could have known about it when Severus hadn’t told anyone about his findings yet.

“The boy believes that he knows the identity of the Death Eater that kidnapped and tortured him,” Snape stated softly.

“Has Harry told you who this person is?”

Severus swallowed. “Well, no, but the boy has implied certain things,” Snape stopped. Suddenly many of the curious things that Potter had said and done made more sense.

The boy’s words and actions came back in a fresh flood of memories.

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

. . . “What is it that made you change your mind, sir?”

Snape bitterly recalled the way that the boy had frantically searched for a way out of the cell in the Hogwarts dungeons, and the way the boy had fought to keep Snape from viewing more of his memories. There was the way that the boy had flinched away at times, and the way he had refused to speak of anything that had occurred during his absence from his muggle home.

Perhaps the reason that he would not admit to anything was deeper than simply being stubborn; perhaps the boy was afraid to tell what he knew.

He’s afraid of me. For the first time in a long while there was no pleasure in the thought of Potter’s fear.