A Jar of Dead Cockroaches by Clovergirl22

Harry Potter was never one who enjoyed watching others being bullied right before his very eyes. Of course who could blame him? The Dursleys hated their ward, he was a victim of both the muggle and wizarding world after all. Still, why was this such a hard concept to grasp? That his father had been one of them all along? A Bully? A berk? A prat just like Malfoy or Dudley. But how? Just why? Why did Snape have to be right?

Not that he was expecting any miracles anytime soon to drop from the sky, but why did this of all things had to happen to him? Now that was a question worth asking for Harry. There was little doubt that he could ever live the life of a normal teenage boy. First off hes a wizard, yeah isn't that brill right? That dissipates all forms of normalcy there. What could be more abnormal than that? Well, ok so how about the fact that he's also a very well known wizard? That's all thanks to a certain, malevolent Dark Lord who notoriously failed to kill him as an infant fifteen years ago and left him without parents. Oh but wait, theres more! His aunt and uncle, the ones who housed him since that incident, have never been much of the "coddling" type per say. Truth be told about the boy-who-lived, what is considered normal anyways? Harry couldn't be that definition of it in the muggle world nor in the wizarding world even if his very life depended on it! At Hogwarts he had to put up with more than just mere taunting from the people who hated him and countless threats from Death Eaters whenever they were near. How strange was it that he was still alive? Even after all those encounters of calls that were way too close for comfort, he had managed to come out lucky in the end. He survived Voldemort's wrath just by the skin of his teeth almost every year since he entered Hogwarts and if that was possible for him than what else more could be? What more pain could he bare to see rather than to feel?

Well, there was no doubt that there was plenty left to see and, of course, to feel. How can one possibly understand another's pain when they themselves had never been emotionally battered? It never occurred to Harry that he was not the only one who went through such gruesome tormenting. However, due to a recent discovery, Harry had come to find that one of his very own tormentors had once been tormented.

Yes, you've heard it clearly, just like him.

How was it even possible though that Severus Snape, the most disliked Professor in all of Hogwarts, was a victim in his youth? Also, the man had been very much like himself at a time, a brooding bloke just like the infamous Harry Potter. Although in the mist of such a shocking discovery, the brunt of the revelation had not lied within the character of Snape but that of James Potter, Harry's dead father, who had happened to be...a bully?

This was not what he was expecting at all. Pensieves hold so much useful information and the merely curious Harry had only wanted to know what was being hidden from him by the Order of the Phoenix and nothing more. All he wanted was some answers about the Department of Mysteries but no, of course he just had to invade someone else's privacy instead and cause total ruckus. What severe mistake made on his behalf was that? He had figured with Snape's memories right there only inches away that surely taking a peek wouldn't harm anyone. Boy had he been wrong for he was surly going to be more than just harmed when and if Snape found out what he did. Just damn his own blasted Gryffindor courage! It gotten the best of him once more, and for what good did that do?

He didn't even find out what he actually wanted to know.

No, he was surely not expecting to see his own father, just standing there and sneering with more ruthlessness than even a grown up Snape would be capable of. What surprised Harry more than anything else was how the insults that were hurled towards Snape from his father were just as, if not more, harsh than the ones that adult Snape inflicts onto Harry daily. But that was far from the point that was being made by this memory.

Harry was glaring daggers at his father as he viewed the atrocious scene and wished for nothing more to modify it in such ways. Sadly his desire to do so was a lost cause. The damage was already done and it was true; his father was an arrogant fool. All this time Snape had been right and had been for the past five years. Just wonderful how he was compared to his father by his professors and friends all along and how nobody dared to step up and tell him what he was really like...except for Snape that is, the greasy git! The worse part was how it took Harry just that long to uncover those past misdemeanors and how his father was probably the direct cause to why Snape torments Harry till no end.

Those thoughts about the image of his father were so... so alien. All of that Harry knew about Snape and his father just mashed in his head like pudding while he watched the scene transpire before him. Harry looked away in shame as Snape was then levitated upside down so that his graying underpants showed themselves brilliantly for the crowed. However, to Harry's surprise, not everyone was so pleased with the abashing demonstration of spells that James was performing with grace. The appearance and reaction from Harry's mother, Lily, was very intriguing. Her emerald, green eyes were shining with fury in the same matter that Harry's own had been doing since he landed in the unpleasant memory.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" shouted Lily at the bully James while Harry stared on with admiration. He himself would have loved to rip his father a new one too if it made a difference.

But of course, it was only a memory and he could not do a thing to save the soon-to-be revengeful Potions Professor.

The dreamlike state of awe that Harry was transfixed into as he absorbed the rest of Snape's horrid memory had ended abruptly when his conceited father started hanging the lanky boy upside down again. Harry shook his head. Snape was right. The realization hit him hard too. Snape was right about his father and how arrogant, ruthless, and self absorbed he had been.

‘More likely a Slytherin' argued Harry as all thoughts landed on Malfoy, the arrogant little twit who was also cruel towards the people that weren't pure blooded like himself. The similarities between his own father and the snaky ferret were more than just appalling, it was bloody insane!

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" His father smirked. With more insanity insured Harry felt like he would vomit at any second. It was his cousin Dudley's bulling ways all over again.

'To hell with that!' thought Harry. He had had enough of this blasted memory and he wanted out! Somehow then as if his desires had been fulfilled, his way "out" was standing right by his side. It had grabbed his arm roughly enough to tear it off. The unknown form was angry with him, that was predictable. Emerald eyes widened with nothing but surmised fear of the violence radiating off of the form. Pain shot into his arm causing him to look around for the ragging source. Harry gasped at what he found. Standing there with a hand clenched in a strangling grip on his flesh with knuckles as white as the face was one fully grown, enraged, livid Severus Snape.

The queasy feeling in the pit of the boy's stomach couldn't have been any more apparent.

.........................2 minutes before.................................

Severus wasn't in the mood for fun and games when he returned to his office.

‘Insufferable children.' he internally ranted 'always getting themselves stuck in nonsense situations' sneered the miserable man as he opened his door to his office. After having blasted his Slytherin Montague out of the toilet his fouled mood was already at it's peak.

'Ignorant br-' But as soon as the infamous Potion's Master stepped into his office ,his eyes became transfixed on a very activated, simmering pensieve.

And to think that he was already ticked off to begin with! Now somebody had activated his pensieve! and that particular somebody was now watching his memories! Severus's black robs billowed out quickly beneath him as he rushed over to the shimmering light. He looked down and underneath his rather large nose he saw not one, but two distinctive mops of black messy hair. Severus's body began to tremble with more than just rage realizing then that bloody Harry Potter, the boy-who-was-going-to-be-murdered-in-two-seconds, was snooping around in his memories. Without a minute to waste, Severus plummeted back into his worst fears fully intended to make them that certain somebody's very own. Mercy was not intended in the least for Harry bloody Potter.

--pause--

"Having fun?" He asked, his hand was already trying to break Potter's arm.

Potter's face however, which made Severus rethink his actions, was anything but amused as soon as he grabbed onto ignorant pest. How odd though, the boy looked to be rather mortified from the start. He had originally presumed that Potter would be laughing along with his insolent father as he viewed the memory. Luckily Potter hadn't seen too much of it yet. Severus didn't know what would happen if the blasted child discovered the true meaning of that day, how he lost his Lily Evans and everything he had with her. He had relaxed measurably then after seeing that he had arrived just in time. How fortunate that it wasn't too late, Severus himself had no desire to relive such a painful moment again, let alone would he allow Potter junior to see it! As soon as the confused boy lifted up his head and met the Potion Master's face all Severus could see was Lily's green eyes, a tangible reminder of such a memory staring right back at him.

"So," started Snape who deliberately griped the boy's arm until his hold was so tight that his own arm had began to shake, "So...been enjoying yourself, Potter?"

But it was not James' arrogant expression that he expected Potter to wear from all the commotion. No, It just had to be her eyes that were blazing right through him, eyes that were filled to the brims with a kindred sadness. Sensitive to such detail Severus was quick to take note of just how scared Potter appeared. His face didn't show his surprise to this, he knew it didn't but he was startled none the less. After all, the blasted Potter brat looked like he just soiled himself, this was different and it absolutely enraged Severus further.

Livid and ready to murder, the man did not even give the boy an opportunity to explain. With as much anger as he could muster up, which wasn't much of an issue, the Potions Master flung Potter out of the pensive with great force. Once again he was standing next to the boy back in his study ready to attack the damned child without mercy. Then after what seemed years of silence Potter decided to speak, even if the boy did seem rather incoherent.

"N-no..." shuddered Potter. Snape's scowl only deepened further as his features distorted. Well off with attacking the boy then, he was going to fillet him like he would a fish.

...............................................

Harry couldn't bring himself to look up at Snape who was fuming with more furious anger than the young wizard had ever seen the greasy git emit. Deciding to avoid all eye contact all together, Harry looked down at his crushed limb in Snape's grasp; it felt like it was being squashed between two rocks. Slightly panicked he tried to pull away from the man's ironclad grip but failed to break free when his arm went numb. Memories consumed his mind quickly; he could already picture his uncle Vernon crushing his arm to pieces in the same manner as the Professor was doing. Harry began to tremble like a leaf.

Again with the similarities!

What he said to Snape though was the truth, Harry hadn't enjoyed any of the memory. Unfortunately, his infuriated Potions Professor who was clenching his arm so roughly, would not see to this right at the moment. Harry couldn't pull away from the force either as it was screaming murder. What had made him look up at the blood, thirsty demon Harry did not know, but yet he did. The boy felt panic rise into his chest again as Snape bared his teeth full with malicious intentions to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Snape didn't seem to hear Harry...

"Amusing man your father, wasn't he?", drawled Snape in a way that scared the living daylights out of him. The man confirmed this rather well as he bent down to grab the boy's other arm to shake him furiously. Harry could not help but subconsciously note that such treatment from a physically bigger being was not a first for him. He frantically bit his tongue to try hold back whatever made him think back to his violent uncle's ways, yet he could not shake the image out of mind. There was no way Harry was going to break down in front of Snape. No. way! He loathed the man too much and so he had to forced the memory to stay in his head where it belonged.

Unfortunately before Harry knew what had hit him, he was sprawled across the cold, cobblestone floor. After slamming his shoulder into the hard rock he had groaned in pain. Once again, this was not the first time that he was knocked to the ground. Thinking back to Occumency lessons with Snape he had fallen onto this floor perhaps a hundred times so far, surly he of all people could handle one or two more without the water works. What good was one more bruise now? He deserved it to serve him as a reminder about just how much he screwed up. Harry didn't even care now that it was Snape any more, his father had been a bloody git, a prat, a swine that he Harry did not stray far from resemblance of. Just like Snape said he was... like his father.

'Just another memory' thought the boy bitterly to himself. He wished he never acquired it in the first place.

"You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!" bellowed the taller man who was literally towering over Harry with all intentions to squash him like an insect.

"No," Harry got to his feet again and moved away from the man who was ready to explode,"No, of course I w-"

"Get out. Get out! I don't want to see you in this office ever again!" Snape was on the verge of screaming now; his cool, collected demeanor had completely vanished.

The boy-who-lived couldn't finish, he did not even have a chance. Only two thoughts came and smacked him across the face as he hobbled to his feet. One: He had to get out of there as fast as he could and Two: he had to hurry the hell up before he becomes the boy-who-died.

Harry would not object to this, he scrambled to his feet and ran over toward the door as fast as his feet could allow. He didn't want to take the chance to find out what would happen to him if he lingered around any longer. Surely he was going endure a deadly curse from Snape if he didn't leave quickly enough.

Time however was not on his side, a sharp pain flew into his head to confirm that his luck had just ran out before he was safely out of the door. The boy immediately cried out in agony as he endured an inflicting source that dug deep into his skull. Harry reached up to his scar believing that Voldemort was the only being able the cause him such discomfort, but it wasn't his forehead that was taking the brunt the inscrutable pain. Realizing this he had brought his hand over to the side of his head, then withdrawn away after he felt a gash there. He took the hand away immediately as he felt something sharp. Staggering in place from the confusion, all Harry could do was try to focus on the blood dripping off of his sliced up hand. He looked down and didn't bother to suppress a moan as a dizzy spell destroyed his vision.

The disoriented boy glanced down to realize that there was shattered glass all around him and dead...dead things all over the floor. Everything was going out of focus, his vision was blurry despite that he still had his glasses on. Crying out in more pain all he could do was grasp his head in a tight embrace. Memories! His memories! so many of them, all filled with past mockeries had totally consumed him.

They were all there: his Uncle's abusing hands, his cousin's pummeling fists, his Aunt's shrill voice screaming into his ears, "Freak!" He heard the Dursleys taunts flare in his brain as he swerved on the spot. "useless, ungrateful, good for nothing..." Harry staggered again losing his balance as more insults were tossed at him without benevolence. He heard his name, he heard "Potter" pound against his wounded head.

More memories followed, those he hated like Malfoy and his cronies, "Pathetic Scum!" they mocked, masking his name and making it even more spiteful as they said it. "Whats the matter scar head? Frightened?" He turned away from them and buried his face in his hands. He was that, terrified even. And he was wanting it to stop, all the voices, all his enemies once and for all. However nothing would make them cease their attacks.

Then Voldemort's memory, the worst of it first like the killing of Cedric "Kill the spare!" had rang in his ears and then the words, "Harry Potter, your time to die has come at last." Red snake like eyes burned right through him, wanting him to suffer.

The voices were leaving him just as fast as the memories came and went like an old film strip. All faded inside him until Snape's sneer came to mind,"Your just like your father!"

'NO! 'Harry rebuked but felt tears drip down to his cheeks instead. "Lazy, insufferable, arrogant..." But It wasn't true! He never done anything that his father did! He brought his other hand to his cheek, his tears weren't clear anymore nor did they retain that salty taste. It tasted like bitter metal. More blood. Red was spilling all over the place, he felt light like he was drifting away.

Harry could have even sworn he heard somebody calling out his name again but it was different somehow. It wasn't Potter, it was his first name. It was very faint, but it was there. He just couldn't remember who said it or where he was. Before the boy got the chance to ask all darkness consumed him and he felt himself falling, falling into nothingness. His knees gave way and out of his fuzzy vision he could see that he was hurtling towards the hard ground, towards the shards of glass and the dead things...

He embraced the fall waiting to die. Nobody was there to save him, nobody ever wanted to. Nobody cared for him that much, so why should they start now? And willingly at that? It didn't matter anyway, nothing mattered anymore. Harry was willing to let the darkness consume him this time.

Oddly though, he never did come in contact with the hard cobblestone floors, instead something or someone broke his fall. The last thing Harry was able to recall was the sound of his name being called gently and his body being cradled in stronger, more protective arms. Then warmth surrounded him like it would never have the chance to do so again, and the smell of sweet potions filled his nostrils all the same. Harry's last thoughts that night were focused on such senses. It smelled like rue or maybe sage, smells that were not at all bitter like one may think. In the next moment there was nothing, nothing was left.