The young boy shivered in the cool corridors of Hogwarts as he made his way down to Professor Snape’s office. Once again despite his best efforts he’d managed to earn another detention with Professor Snape. Harry wasn’t quite sure what he’d done during his potions class to deserve punishment, but he went with his better judgment and didn’t question his professor. The last thing Harry wanted was to have more detentions with the Potions Master for being insubordinate.
The journey to Snape’s office was both far too long and far too short at the same time. On the one hand Harry wanted nothing more then to get his punishment over with and on the other hand he wanted to delay it as long as possible.
When he reached Snape’s office he timidly reached up to the door and mustered what he hoped was not a weak knock. Harry’s heart hammered in his chest as the seconds ambled away, and he prayed that he would get no response from behind the door so that he could just leave.
Unfortunately a smooth tone from behind the door bade the young man to enter.
Harry slipped inside the room and stood with his body pressed closely to the door. He tried to make himself as small and unnoticeable as he possibly could. A chill passed over him even though he was sheltered from the cold in Snape’s office.
“Potter,” Harry flinched as the Professor uttered his last name. “Good of you to grace me with your presence.”
There was a dangerously long period of silence in the office. Harry swallowed as his heart beat loudly in his chest. His heart was pounding so frantically that he was almost certain that the Potions Master could hear it.
“You are on time, much to my surprise. However, due to the sheer number of detentions that you have served under my supervision I do not believe that the normal punishments are penetrating that thick skull of yours, Potter,” Snape glared at Harry as he spoke with an evil twinkle in his dark eyes. “Therefore, I have decided that you deserve a special punishment.”
Harry felt his heart plummet. He gaped at Snape, whatever the Professor had in mind was not going to be good for Harry at all.
“I shall deal with you tomorrow during class. For now you may consider yourself free to go.”
“Professor Snape, I’d much rather just serve-” Harry stopped short, finding his protest cut off with a sharp wave of Professor Snape’s hand. It was stupid of Harry to think that he could negotiate with Professor Snape, after all the man seemed to really hate everyone. Especially Harry.
The Potions Master glanced up from the papers he was unfairly grading and spoke in a cool tone, “Potter, because you are being punished you do not have the privilege to choose the method of punishment. Perhaps you do not understand that is the nature of punishments. If it were something that you enjoyed it would not be nearly as effective.”
Snape turned his attention back to the essays he was grading. Harry stood frozen in his place, for some strange reason he could not bring himself to turn and leave.
“Potter, I told you to leave my office,” The cold voice echoed clearly in Harry’s ears and he snapped to attention. “Now, unless you’d rather serve a detention tonight as well as what I have in store for you tomorrow I suggest that you leave at once.”
Harry found himself out of the office in a second, and before he’d even realized how far he’d gone he had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
He mumbled the password so that she’d barely been able to hear it and he hurried into the dormitory before there was barely enough room for him to squeeze through.
It was probably going to be pointless to even make an attempt at trying to go to sleep. Between the nightmares of Voldemort and the anticipation of Snape’s impending torture Harry stood no chance at getting a decent night’s rest. But he tried anyway.
At breakfast despite his friends’ encouragement Harry couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. Hermione put food on his plate and Ron offered encouraging words as he watched Harry pick forlornly at his breakfast.
As the time for Snape’s class drew nearer Harry felt the life in him drain out of the soles of his shoes. He trudged dismally down to the Potions Master’s dungeons growing paler and paler with each step closer to the class. Harry took his seat with nervous reverence and waited for his impending doom.
When Snape entered the dungeon, Harry felt himself jump. The boy sank even lower in his chair in a weak attempt to make his presence go unnoticed. He knew that it would never work, but he didn’t seem to let that stop him from trying anyway.
Snape completely ignored Harry at first. The Professor was busy setting things up for the lesson in the front of the class. Harry didn’t bother wondering what Snape was doing. In contrast the rest of the class was on the edges of their seats. They wanted to know why Snape hadn’t growled out his usual instructions, snapped at them to get to work and then slithered about the room to insult their mistakes like he normally did.
Snape had finished what he was doing in the front of the class and focused his attention on Harry.
Harry could feel Snape’s dark gaze staring straight through him. The young Gryffindor squirmed and tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed that Snape had centered on him.
“Mr. Potter,” came the sleek voice, “report to the front of the classroom if you would.”
The class hushed with anticipation of what Snape had in store for Harry.
Harry stared at his shoes and moped silently toward the front of the class. Ron and Hermione shot him looks of sympathy, while the Slytherins sniggered as he passed. He was oblivious to it all.
Snape directed Harry to a chair directly front and center of the room. Obediently the young wizard took a seat and looked out blankly at his classmates.
Snape pulled a small vial of liquid from his robes and when Harry saw it his heart dropped once more. He thought perhaps the Potions Master had decided to poison Harry after all. Harry knew that Snape utterly despised him and the thought of watching Harry suffer in front of his classmates would probably please the Professor and his Master very much.
“Drink this, Mr. Potter,” Snape ordered, stuffing the small vial of baby blue liquid into Harry’s trembling hand.
Harry glanced up at Snape, horrified. Snape expected Harry to simply down the mystery potion without so much as the name of the poison, no, he wasn’t gonna comply with that. Reluctantly Harry carefully unstopped the vial and gave the contents a cautious sniff.
“Hmmm . . . minty,” Harry thought to himself, not what he‘d expected at all. Well, at least it didn’t have a malicious odor to it like some of the potions he’d been taught to brew.
“What is it?” Harry asked looking up at Snape with wide eyes.
“Potter, that is of no concern to you. Now, either drink the potion or suffer the consequences,” Snape’s cold tone was accompanied by an equally icy glare.
“What will it do to me?” Harry said holding the small vial up between his fingers to squint at it in the dismal dungeon light.
“The effects of the potion will cause you no permanent harm, if that concerns you,” came the calloused reply.
The words ‘no permanent harm’ stayed in Harry’s thoughts and thoughts of horrid temporary pains danced in his mind for a moment.
“Mr. Potter,” came the smooth voice edged with impatience, “the entire class is waiting. If you’d rather serve a week’s worth of detentions with me, I certainly could arrange it.”
Harry immediately shook his head. He couldn’t afford to miss more Quidditch practice because of detention, it would be unfair to his team. With a defeated sigh he gave the potion a sickened glare, sniffed its minty contents once more and quickly sucked the liquid down before he could think to regret it.
Harry had expected the potion to taste simply wretched, but to his surprise it was quite pleasant tasting. The minty scent of the liquid was true to the taste and it sent a soothing coolness throughout his body within seconds. Strangely Harry felt his fear leave him, it was replaced with a calm, relaxed feeling instead.
“The potion that Potter has just drank is called Lamentation’s Release. Within a few moments the potion should take full effect and I shall explain the effects as Potter experiences them. Then, if time permits, we shall begin to learn the process of creating this particular potion as a class. Or if there is not time today we shall do it tomorrow.”
Harry could feel his body relaxing completely to the will of the potion. He felt almost as if he had the Jelly-legs Curse cast over his entire body. Harry could feel something pushing his unpleasant memories forward, so that he’d be forced to relive them again. He struggled with the soothing feeling that was trying to squirm through his thoughts and make him face everything he wanted to hide from.
“It appears that Mr. Potter is resisting the effects of the potion as it is manipulating his thoughts. Very soon he will be forced to lower his defenses and the potion will run its course,” Snape spoke in a low silky whisper as his students watched Harry with intense interest.
Harry was vaguely aware of the Potions Mater’s voice, but all of his concentration was set on keeping control of his thoughts. The young wizard’s face was taut with focus and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed so that he would not be distracted by anyone.
Something flashed briefly in Harry’s mind, like the flash of a camera. It was a part of a memory. Harry started with surprise and opened his eyes, blinking uncertainly. His classmates stared at him with gaping mouths, wondering if he’d been able to fight off the potion as he had the Imperious Curse with the Moody imposter in his fourth year.
Snape looked down at Harry with a sneer of victory, “In just a few moments the potion will begin working. Potter’s mental defenses are being broken at this very instant.”
Harry felt nothing different, save the cool, unnatural calm given to him by the potion. A moment later he felt his vision grow dark and he was pulled away from Snape’s class and into his thoughts.
Harry found himself in the familiar setting of his uncle’s home. Unpleasant pangs of hunger ripped through him and he glanced hopelessly at his owl. Poor Hedwig, she deserved so much better then him. Maybe it would have been better for her if she’d found a proper wizard family instead of living with the famous Harry Potter. It was his fault that she was locked up, his fault that they were both completely miserable.
“No, it’s not my fault! I didn’t ask to be this way!” Harry whispered desperately, so that only Snape was able to hear.
“The purpose of this particular potion is to allow the drinker the opportunity to release certain events that bother them, their unforgiveables if you will. Potter is reliving a memory right now, the only way to stop it is to accept the fact that the past cannot be changed and that blaming oneself for unfortunate events is not acceptable,” Snape spoke softly, almost as though he feared he would wake Harry if his tone was any louder.
Harry watched in disbelief as his room melted away before him, like a piece of ice. And when he realized where he was he prayed to be back at Uncle Vernon’s house again.
“Oh, not this again. Please, no,” Harry whispered as he found himself staring at the lifeless body of Cedric. “Oh Cedric, I’m so very sorry. I wish that things could have turned out differently.”
It had been Harry’s fault that Cedric had died. Harry had done nothing to save the other boy, the thought that he should have at least tried something shuddered through him. If only I’d done something more . . . but what could he have done? The death curse had no counter, there was no salve or potion that could restore its victims no matter how much they deserved another chance.
He stared at the dead youth and could only hope that Diggory had found peace. Harry knew in his heart that if there had been something that he could have done to spare Diggory he would have done it in an instant.
Harry reached down to touch Cedric’s hand, just before he grazed the pale skin his surroundings faded away once more. Harry looked about, dazed.
He recognized that he was now in the ministry of magic staring straight at the veil that had stolen his Godfather away from him.
A million regrets swept through his thoughts. That if he’d done things differently, if he’d studied Occlumency as he should have, if he had stayed put instead of trying to rescue Sirius in the first place. Then . . . perhaps . . . Sirius would still be alive. Maybe Sirius was better off at Azkaban, Harry thought. No, I’m glad for the time I had with him at least.
“Sirius, oh please, no!” Harry cried out as he thought he could distinguish his Godfather’s features among so many swirling in the veil. Harry fell hard to his knees at the foot of the veil and his vision blurred with tears, he knew just as he had with Cedric that he could do nothing to bring Sirius back to him. The closest person he’d had to loving family had been sucked away from him.
The class gasped as Harry fell hard from the chair, some of the meaner spirited students laughed quietly and Snape silenced them with a glare.
Once more Harry watched as his surroundings fell away one last time. He cringed at the thought of reliving more bad experiences.
The young wizard opened his eyes to behold a pair of black leather boots peeking out of long black robes. The boy was on the floor at Professor Snape’s feet in a huddle of sweat and tears. Harry felt both physically and mentally drained of all of his strength. The cool feeling from the potion was steadily fading away and his grip on reality was coming back to him.
Harry pushed himself to a sitting position and blearily glanced around. To his relief Snape had released the class on time, the classroom was empty. The boy attempted to stand and failed miserably, he fell back to the cold dungeon floor.
“You shouldn’t stand for a while. Your body has been put through a lot in the past hour,” Snape’s smooth tone filled Harry’s ears as the Potions Master knelt and offered a small vial of liquid. “That will help you with the dizziness.”
Harry realized he did feel very, very dizzy. Without thinking twice, he drank the potion. Within seconds he felt his vision starting to clear, the fuzz in his head was smoothing out.
“How do you feel, Potter?” Harry thought that there was almost a hint of concern in the smooth tone.
“Much better, Sir.”
“As soon as you have the power to stand up and go to your common room you may consider your punishment over.”
“Yes, Professor Snape.”
As soon as he found the strength Harry wandered slowly back to his common room, feeling weak but strangely releived. The wieght of guilt had left him and he couldn’t help but wonder why Snape had done him such a kindness. Perhaps the Professor was not as cold as he made himself out to be, just as Harry was not as happy as he pretended all the time.
As he sat watching the fire in the hearth in the Gryffindor common room, he remembered what Snape had said about the nature of punishment.
“If it were something that you enjoyed it would not be nearly as effective.”
While it was entirely true that he had not enjoyed the experience Snape had put him through it had helped him. Harry couldn’t help but think that while it was easier trying to hide from the horrible things he’d been through it was better to face them.
The question remained, How had Snape known that Harry had been harboring guilt all this time and why had he helped him at all?
Harry although he was curious would not dare to ask Snape of this. Well, not tonight anyway.