Finally, the first of their Practical sessions was coming up. It was to be held on the Quidditch Pitch and, apart from the students that were going to partake in the lesson, the stands were packed with students and teachers who had decided to watch.
The first thing they noticed when they arrived was that the pitch had been transformed from the flat, grassy field to an area filled with large rocks, shrubs and trees and two wooden cabins on either side. The goal posts were transformed into what looked like score-boards. The students gathered around in the middle of the pitch, which was most devoid of obstacles. A bald, slightly chubby man with a rough beard stood in the centre and he was flanked by a woman with a ashen blonde bob.
"Gather round, gather round," the man's rough voice ran across the group.
Once everyone had gotten closer and fell silent the man continued.
"Good day everyone. Let me introduce myself. I am Ian Lautaro and this here is my wife, Maira Lautaro." He gestured at the woman next to him. "We have been asked to give you a workshop on reflexes and speed."
A soft murmur went through the student body but they fell silent again when Mr. Lautaro held up his hand.
"As you can see, your Quidditch Pitch has been transformed into a practice arena. In a minute, you will form two teams. You will face each other and try to eliminate the members of the opposing team. But first I will demonstrate what I would like to teach you."
In a split second, Mrs. Lautaro shot a fire-red beam of light at him. The burst of energy ended up splitting a rock in two on the other end of Mr. Lautaro. All eyes were back on Mr. Lautaro and Harry felt sure that he must at least have burned his socks off. But Mr. Lautaro stood perfectly unharmed and smiled at the students gaping at him. Then Harry realised that he had actually dodged the spell.
"You see, speed and good reflexes are two things that will save your life one day. It may also get you out of critical situations if you are able to think and move fast. It may even trick your opponent, especially when they feel overconfident. Now, to master these skills there is nothing else to be done but to practise. You cannot learn this from books, you cannot even learn this from me. You have to practise it to become proficient at it. But I will help you by giving you some tips."
The next half hour Mr. and Mrs. Lautaro explained the things they did to enhance their reflexes. It was all about focus and, surprisingly, relaxation. Because as Mr. Lautaro said, if you're too tense, your muscles will need more power and energy to make you move. So, taking a breather during a vicious battle, could be the key to survival. They got some tips on how to anticipate your opponents next move by analyzing his facial expressions and body movement.
Then it was time to start the real work. The Lautaro's formed two teams. It would be Slytherin and Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. They had to eliminate the members of the other team by casting colouring charms on their opponents. When they were hit, they had to remove themselves from the field by entering the cabin and waiting for the game to be over. The objective was to eliminate everyone of the opposing team.
At the Mrs. Lautaro's whistle, the teams set out. Harry set out with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny and hid behind a large rock.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" Ron asked.
"Try not to get our asses kicked," Ginny replied.
"Perhaps it's better to spread out a little," Hermione offered, "we're too much of a target huddled together like this."
But before anyone could react to this, Luna had peeked over the edge of the rock.
"They're coming," she said in a melodious voice that seemed totally unaffected.
Harry jumped away from the rock as it was hit by a purple colouring spell. He dashed away and lay low in the shrubbery. With a glance he saw that Neville had followed him, but the rest was nowhere to be seen.
Then two fifth year Slytherins came around the rock with their wands out.
"I would swear I saw someone here," one of them said.
Harry and Neville locked eyes and simultaneously jumped up and sent two orange colouring spells at the Slytherins.
"Argh!"
The two were completely covered in what looked like orange paint and glared at the Gryffindors, before making their way to their cabin grudgingly.
"Let's go, I'm sure they will tell their teammates we're hiding here," Harry said and he and Neville swiftly left their hiding place.
They had a few close run-ins with some Hufflepuffs but they managed to stay out of harm's way for quite some time. Just as Harry wanted to tell Neville that they were doing well, he heard an exclamation behind him.
He whirled around and saw Neville covered in purple paint. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another spell speeding his way and he quickly flattened himself against the bark of a large tree, barely dodging the spell.
"Come on, Potter. Why don't you stop hiding and face me like a man?" came the derisive voice of Draco Malfoy.
Harry groaned inwardly but did not give in to the other boy's taunting, knowing it would mean his elimination.
Then suddenly the tree he was hiding behind cracked and creaked and fell over, exposing him to Malfoy and Crabbe, who both had a disdainful smirk on their face.
"Hey, colouring charms only, Malfoy!" Neville shouted at the blonde boy.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Neville to talk back to him like that.
"You're dead Longbottom. Now get to your cabin like a good little boy."
Harry saw Neville ball his fists but he made no move to leave.
"Now Potter, let's-"
"Harry!"
Hermione came from the left and shot an orange spell towards Crabbe, who yelled in indignation. Malfoy was quick to eliminate Hermione and managed to dodge Harry's spell at the same time.
"Just us now Potter."
They circled each other, occasionally daring to shoot a spell towards the other but managing to evade and dodge them every time. Harry wracked his brain to think of a way to distract or surprise Malfoy long enough for him to eliminate him. He knew Malfoy was doing the same though.
"What's the matter Potter? Lost your nerve?"
So he was going for verbal distraction then. Nothing he couldn't handle.
As Malfoy taunted him he risked a few glances around them. They were surrounded by tall rocks and that gave him an idea.
He changed the direction of his wand and shot a spell towards one of the rocks. It ricocheted off the rock and into the wrong direction but it had the desired effect, for Malfoy was briefly distracted by it.
He quickly jabbed his wand in the Slytherin's direction and with a satisfied grin saw Malfoy's robes turn a bright orange.
A loud bell rang through the arena and Harry looked around as all members of both teams left their cabins and gathered around them. He had not realised that he and Malfoy were the last members of their teams still standing.
"Congratulations to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Team!" Mr. Lautaro yelled loud enough so that he could be heard in the stands as well. The score-board showed a 1 - 0 at the wave of his wand.
They played a few more rounds, with the Lautaros giving tips and advice between every round. Eventually the session was ended and the Ravenclaw & Gryffindor team had won with a score of 3 - 2.
Elated and with wild excitement they made their way back to the castle. They talked animatedly about their failures and successes and the conversations turned into discussions about who had the best strategies.
After dinner Harry made his way to the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson with Snape. He was physically exhausted but in a good mood after the victory earlier that day. He was not particularly looking forward to having to spend another evening delving into his Dursley memories, but he was determined to give tonight his best shot.
Unfortunately his best never seemed to be good enough for Snape.
After they had relived almost every horrible memory Harry had of his time with the Dursleys, they had moved back to Snape's earlier method of him attacking Harry's mind while focusing on those memories. Snape's theory was that confronting Harry's mind with those memories would force him to accept them as a part of his being and thus make it easier to shift and replace them with other memories or to successfully throw off an attacker. In reality, Harry felt no closer to occluding his mind than he was before their trips down memory-lane.
"Abysmal, Potter," Snape said after a particularly disastrous attempt.
Harry got up from the floor and stretched his aching back. Along with the physical exertion earlier today, the constant falling on the cold, solid floor of Snape's office didn't do anything for his painful muscles.
"Would it kill you to get a rug in here?" he muttered as he massaged the back of his neck.
"If you're tired of falling down, perhaps you should try harder at throwing me out before that happens," Snape sneered at him.
"I am trying, Professor," Harry said tiredly, having repeated that phrase a great number of times before.
Snape gave him a look as if he doubted his intelligence. Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
"Seriously, Professor, I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"You're not doing anything wrong. You're just not doing enough right," Snape said cryptically. Harry rolled his eyes. His exhaustion was quickly getting the better of him and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the warm and soft sheets of his bed.
Snape folded his arms in frustration. "I'm convinced that you should have no trouble with this, Potter. Which either means that you are lying when you say you're giving this your best effort," Harry shot him a glare, "or... there are some vital memories we somehow missed."
"I can't think of anything else more horrible than the ones we already watched," Harry replied with a hint of regret for his invaded privacy.
Snape considered him thoughtfully. "So we have seen all the significant memories?"
"More than I'd like to count," Harry mumbled.
"There is nothing else you might have missed?" Snape asked while scrutinizing him closely.
"Wouldn't you have found out anyway?" Harry replied. "I can't hide anything from you, remember?"
Snape narrowed his eyes at him and Harry felt like the man was trying to look right through him.
"We'll go again."
Harry groaned, but knew better than to protest and thus readied his usual stance.
Snape seemed to have found some renewed purpose as he invaded Harry's mind over and over again. His attacks were suddenly harsh and piercing, every trace of a gentle pull of memories gone. Harry felt like a drill was being bored into his skull and each time Snape relented for a minute-long breather, his head was pounding as if someone was hitting him with a hammer repeatedly.
In between the attacks Harry caught a glimpse of Snape and realised the man looked just as exhausted as he felt, but he had a determined glint in his dark eyes that promised Harry a long evening full of mental assaults.
Harry felt like Snape was trying hard to search for something particular, but had no idea what. And he had no way to find out as memory after memory shot past his mind's eye, unable to grasp any of them. He had already told Snape there was nothing more, didn't he? Was the man trying to get him go bonkers?
Endless attacks later Harry finally found the strength in his voice to speak up, hoping it would get Snape to understand.
"Professor... Please. No more. I'm... tired. I can't do this."
Snape didn't hesitate and lifted his wand once more. "I'm not going to allow you to give up!"
"Legilimens!"
Another sharp stabbing sensation drove through Harry's head as Snape dove in again. Harry could sense the fierce determination, the resolute strength of Snape's will run its course through his mind. Had his mind been any clearer, he would've realised that Snape desperately wanted him to succeed in this.
Finally Snape slowed down as a memory was pulled into the forefront of Harry's mind. A memory he had not known existed there.
He had just received a letter that he had been expelled from Hogwarts for the use of underage magic. His hands felt numb as the letter slipped from his fingers. Uncle Vernon picked it up and read its contents before looking up and pointing a pudgy finger in his nephew's face.
"You see! This is evidence for the fact that you used that... that... THING against my son! Even your kind sees that, and now justice shall be served."
Uncle Vernon grabbed him roughly by his arm and pulled him up the stairs, towards Dudley's second bedroom. There, he threw him unceremoniously against the wall and started fumbling with the belt that kept his enormous pants up.
No! Harry thought in his mind as he struggled desperately to get Snape out.
"Take off your shirt," Uncle Vernon said.
Harry's mind was blank, still numb from the revelation the letter provided. He was expelled... He no longer was allowed to go back to his home...
"BOY! Do not make me repeat myself!"
Harry was shaken out of his reverie and looked up at his uncle. He was mortified to see his uncle standing there with his belt out. He couldn't mean...?
"No, Uncle Vernon, I-"
But his uncle wouldn't have it. He shoved his nephew roughly against the wall, his back turned towards him and kept him there with a firm grip on the shoulders.
"It's no use to resist, boy. You know you deserve this, don't you?"
And he did know. He deserved all the pain and remorse in the world for leading Cedric Diggory to his death and for being responsible for bringing Voldemort back to full power.
NO! Stop it! Get OUT!
He struggled half-heartedly, a part of him recognizing the unfairness of this treatment and protesting against the enforcement, while another part of him hoped this would be enough to make atonement for his failures. As his uncle's belt came down on his back, he bit his lip to keep himself from crying out.
Loud footsteps could be heard on the stairs and the door was yanked open to reveal a frightened Aunt Petunia. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.
"Vernon, stop! Look, another letter arrived. His kind is coming to get him..."
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
With a tremendous amount of willpower, Harry gave a mental shove at the heavy presence in his mind, forcing it to leave. He registered a slight tingling sensation in his body as his magic coursed through his veins. The effort of repelling the mental attack was equal to lifting several cars, or so he imagined, but he didn't care. He gave it his all, determined to get Snape out.
Suddenly the memory of his uncle and the belt was gone, but it was replaced by a new memory. This one was completely unfamiliar to him, however.
He saw a young boy, no more than ten years old, standing with his hands against a stone wall, his back exposed. Behind him stood a tall, menacing looking man with dark hair and goatee. He had a belt in his hands and looked quite deranged as he lifted it. The boy set his jaw and had a determined glint in his eyes that told Harry that whatever may come, he would not break mentally. As the belt came down, the boy bowed his head, his long black hair hiding his face.
With a mental push, which felt more like an actual physical shove, Snape threw Harry out.
Harry opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of Snape's office, realising that he had landed flat on his back. He was panting heavily as if he had run a mile or two. His fringe stuck to his head and he thought he could feel actual beads of sweat roll down the sides. His cheeks were wet as well, but he didn't dare to think what that could mean.
He rolled over to his side and looked towards the other end of the office. Snape was on the floor as well, though he was sitting up and leaning heavily against his desk for support. Though he too was panting, he didn't look as undone as Harry probably did.
Suddenly Harry dreaded this next confrontation. Memories of himself invading his Professor's privacy came to mind and this was probably one of the most personal, private memories he could have witnessed. Last time, Snape had only thrown him out of his office. And that was after witnessing a far less humiliating memory, in Harry's opinion. Snape would probably murder him now.
Feeling very vulnerable on the floor, Harry tried to get up but got no further than a sitting position. How come his limbs felt so weak and shaky?
He risked a glance at Snape and gulped as he found the man was looking at him directly.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You successfully occluded your mind."
Harry felt his eyes widen. He'd done it. He'd actually done it!
"Also, your attempt at Legilimency was... adequate."
"Sir, I didn't-" Harry started to protest but Snape held up a hand to silence him.
"I know you didn't deliberately attempt Legilimency. It must have been a reflex of your mind. But the fact that your first attempt was done wandlessly and non-verbally is a sign that you have the aptitude to become very proficient at it, with time and practice.
Harry stared at the man, unable to believe that he had just complimented him. He must have hit his head on that desk or something.
He watched as Snape slowly pulled himself up with the help of the desk and then tried to get up himself. He found it impossible, however. His body was completely drained of all energy.
"Stay down," Snape told him as he went to the back of his office. Harry had no other choice but to comply and awkwardly sat on the floor, listening to the clanking of glass vials.
Snape went up to him and handed him a Pepper-Up Potion, indicating he should drink it immediately. Harry did so and felt a rush of warmth spread through his body and the tremble in his limbs ceased. After handing back the vial, Harry was surprised that Snape held out his hand to help him up off the floor. He took it, partly because he didn't want to be rude and risk the activation of the man's anger after all, and partly because he was too surprised to think twice about it.
Snape steered him towards the armchairs and lighted the fireplace.
"Sit down, Potter. I will return shortly." He turned and exited his office through a back door.
Harry sat staring into the fire, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. First his own memory that he had somehow forgotten about. A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about it. Uncle Vernon had never before seemed this deranged and he considered himself lucky that it hadn't happened ever since. The look on Aunt Petunia's eyes as she came into the room was also one he had never seen before. Perhaps she was scared of the consequences of her husband's actions. Or perhaps she didn't approve of it, somehow. Perhaps that was the reason she kicked him out of the house this summer. Uncle Vernon might have lost it again and she could prevent that by taking Harry out of the equation.
Harry scoffed loudly in the silent office. Of all the things she could have done to stop her husband's torment on her nephew, this was by far the worst and easiest of choices.
Then his thoughts fell on the memory he witnessed of his Potions Professor. He marvelled at the fact that both of their memories were so... similar. It was quite eerie to think that he and the snarky man, the bat of the dungeons, had something so profoundly personal in common. He would never have imagined it.
Snape returned with a pot of hot tea and poured a cup for each of them, before he sat down in the other armchair across from Harry. He gestured with his hand that Harry should drink. Harry picked up his cup and sniffed, frowning at the scent.
"It's lavender. It reduces stress and has calming properties," Snape said as he brought his own cup to his mouth.
"Oh," was all Harry could think to say and he took a sip to give himself something to do.
The silence between them stretched on awkwardly as they both took slow sips of their tea. While Snape seemed content for it to stay that way, Harry desperately wanted to break the tension he felt at the awkward situation, though he couldn't find the right words to do it.
"Say what's on your mind, Potter," Snape said calmly as he looked him in the eyes.
Harry swallowed his pride and went for it.
"That memory... I had forgotten that it happened," he said tentatively, still unsure if the Professor would choose to mock him for it.
Snape frowned slightly in thought. "It seems that you have suppressed the memory. The intensity of it must have triggered you to protect yourself by erasing the memory from the forefront of your mind. It does sometimes happen after experiencing traumatizing events."
Harry furrowed his brow. "But I'm okay though. I've seen the memory now and I'm fine. I'm not having a mental breakdown or something."
"Sometimes the strain on the mind can become too much. Especially when this memory was just one of many troubling ones at that time." Snape looked at him knowingly and Harry averted his eyes.
He thought back to the summer before his fifth year. It was one of the worst he had endured since he knew he was a wizard. And not because of the Dursleys, they were actually a pretty stable and predictable factor at that time. No, it was a bad summer because he had just returned from the graveyard where he had seen Voldemort be resurrected and had watched his classmate get murdered right in front of him.
"Would you happen to know why?" Snape inquired imploringly.
"I think you already know, professor," Harry said.
"I want you to tell me," Snape said, his voice lacking his usual malice but still had a kind of finality in it that left no room for protest.
Harry looked down and was silent for a long time. But Snape was too. It was probably the fact that Snape was patient enough not to push him for answers that compelled him to finally speak.
"That whole summer was... hard," he started. "It was just after I fought Vol- er, You-Know-Who in the graveyard and I returned knowing he was back to full power. That summer, I had nightmares almost every night, where I had to relive that whole scene over and over. And that's also when the visions began and I began to feel Him stirring within me. I was alone. The only person I could have talked about it with was Dumbledore, but he was unreachable. He was for that whole year, in fact."
He looked up at Snape, who had his obsidian eyes on him.
"I understand why that would make your mind more inclined to suppress a traumatizing memory," he said.
Harry averted his eyes once more, feeling awkward. "I guess."
"We will focus on those memories next time. I think you have sufficiently shown that your able to push away the memories of your childhood."
Harry frowned at that. "It still took a tremendous amount of effort, though. I'm not sure if I can reproduce that without proper... incentive."
Snape leaned forward a bit in his seat. "Trust me, you will."
And Harry found that he did trust that Snape was right. He wasn't sure what had caused that sudden change, but the fact that the man had not sneered at, berated or belittled him helped a lot.
Snape's words sounded like he was about to dismiss him, but the man made no move to stand up or show him the door. In fact, he was looking thoughtfully at Harry and fingering his empty cup as if contemplating whether or not to continue the conversation. Then he sat up and poured himself another cup of tea and after a slight pause, filled Harry's as well.
"Drink."
Harry took the cup awkwardly. He got the feeling that Snape was battling his nerves, but the thought that the Potions Master could be nervous about anything seemed just too bizarre.
"What happened that day to cause your uncle to be so... ruthless?" Snape finally said.
Harry swallowed down a big gulp of tea, and felt it burn down his throat. He took a minute to recover before answering the man before him.
"That was the summer before last. That was the day that a couple of Dementors tried to attack me and my cousin." Harry glanced at Snape under his fringe and saw the recognition in the man's eyes. "I managed to drive them away with a Patronus, but they had quite an effect on Dudley. So when we came home and my aunt and uncle saw how lethargic he was, they went berserk. At the same time I got the letter saying I was expelled from Hogwarts for having used magic. I guess that was enough to encourage my uncle to... do what he did."
Snape shook his head unbelievingly and then looked away, glaring at the fire. It occurred to Harry that Snape was angry on his behalf and it felt strange for someone to feel that way for him. He felt the need to alleviate his mood.
"That was the only time he did that though. As far as I know at least," he said, suddenly wondering if he had any more suppressed memories like this one.
"It was," Snape said determinedly.
Harry stared at him. Just how much does he know about my mind?
"It is my understanding that no one knows of this, yet I will have to inform the Headmaster," Snape said after a minute of silence.
"What? Why?" Harry asked, unable to stop the hint of panic in his voice.
"Because it is my duty, as a teacher at this school, to report any incidents of child abuse."
Harry flinched at that word. "Sir, it's not..."
"Hurting and neglecting a child, any child, but in particular one under your care, is child abuse," Snape interrupted, finally looking back at his student. "Professor Dumbledore needs to be notified. In fact, I should have done so earlier when it became apparent to me that your relatives mistreat you during the summers," Snape said with a surprising hint of remorse in his voice.
"Sir, I..." Harry struggled to find the right words. "It really isn't necessary. Dumbledore has more important things to busy himself with. Besides, it doesn't matter for I'm not going back to the Dursleys."
Snape narrowed his eyes at his pupil.
"What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing!" Harry said loudly, hoping that his insolence would get Snape angry enough to dismiss him.
"Why is it so hard to tell the Headmaster?"
Harry heaved a frustrated sigh and looked down at his hands.
"Because Dumbledore doesn't care, okay?"
"Explain."
The cool, baritone voice of his professor made Harry look up at him incredulously. "I have asked him every single year not to send me back there. Dumbledore knows they hate me. But the answer is always the same. I need to go back there for the blood protection. It doesn't matter how miserable I am when I'm there, as long as Dumbledore can sleep peacefully knowing I'm protected from Voldemort."
Snape tensed and clenched his jaw, but surprisingly refrained from correcting him about the name.
"And you think Dumbledore will reject you even after hearing of this?" Snape asked.
"I know he will," Harry said darkly.
"I don't believe that."
Harry heaved another sigh, feeling tired.
"I will talk to the Headmaster," Snape said.
"Sir, it's really no use."
"This is not up for debate, Potter," Snape said firmly.
Harry bowed his head in defeat. "Yes sir," he mumbled.
Snape nodded, apparently satisfied, and shifted forward in his seat so he was closer to Harry.
"Now, turn in your seat and lift you shirt."
Harry widened his eyes. "What?"
"Do as I say, Potter," Snape said with a hint of annoyance.
"But, why?"
Snape looked at him as if he was simpleminded.
"Because I need to take a look at your back," he said slowly, heavily articulating each word.
"Sir, it's been over a year ago. It's probably all healed up already," Harry replied.
"That may be so. Nevertheless, I need to ascertain that it's healed properly since you've had no treatment for it in any way. Now turn around."
Harry surmised that this too was not up for debate and reluctantly did as he was told. The cold dungeon air made his skin shiver as he lifted his shirt awkwardly, feeling self-conscious as he knew the man would now be staring at his back.
He heard an intake of breath from the professor, but was glad it wasn't followed by a snarky comment.
He felt Snape shift closer, as if the man wanted to touch him and he tensed.
"May I?" Snape asked with such a gentle voice that Harry thought there was someone else sitting behind him. He nodded uneasily.
He had expected Snape's hands to be cold on his back, but they were surprisingly warm as he gently prodded the slightly raised lines.
"There's a bit of excessive scarring. Let me apply some salve to lessen those," Snape's calm voice came from behind him.
Harry nodded and heard Snape summon a jar to him and twist the lid to open it.
"This might be a little cold," he said and then gently applied the salve to Harry's back.
Harry felt himself relax a little. Though the situation was still awkward and tense, the cold substance and the gentle administrations on his back helped calm his nerves. A question popped up in his mind that he felt compelled to ask.
"Sir, did you ever tell anyone?"
Snape's hands stilled and for a moment Harry thought he would yell at him to get out. But after a short pause, Snape continued smearing the salve.
"Yes, eventually I did."
"Who-" Harry cut himself off, thinking it was a way too personal thing to be asking.
Snape surprised him by answering anyway. "I told Dumbledore."
"Oh," Harry muttered. "Did he... Was there anything he could do to help you?"
"There wasn't anything to help with anymore. The threat was gone before I told him of it."
Harry wondered what that meant. Did that man he saw... die?
"Was that...?"Harry trailed off, unsure if he should be even asking these questions.
"My father, yes." Snape said as he closed the lid on the jar and stood to put it away. Then he returned and poured the last of the tea left in the pot in both of their cups. Harry pulled down his shirt and took the cup, glad the tea had cooled down. His curiosity peaked and he wondered about Snape's father and what his life had been like and why he had treated his son that way. But he didn't dare ask any more questions, afraid Snape would change his mind and start berating him for being nosy.
Unexpectedly, however, Snape seemed to be inclined to elaborate.
"My father was a muggle. He generally didn't like anything, much, but he absolutely hated magic. My mother married him without telling him she was a witch, for reasons I do not even want to know. When it turned out that I was born a wizard and I started showing signs of raw magic, she obviously had to tell him. From that moment on, he never passed up an opportunity to put me in my place. He probably needed to feel in control, as he was the only one in the household without magical powers."
Harry blinked, thinking it was a very sad story. And eerily resembled that of his own.
"So, when you say the threat was gone, you mean...?"
"He died when I was seventeen," Snape said staring into the fire, his thoughts miles away. "It was for the best."
Then he seemed to come back to his senses and turned back towards Harry. "My mother died a year before that. And that's the end of it."
He stood abruptly and with a wave of his wand the empty teapot and cups disappeared.
"I believe we have dwelled enough on these memories for now. In any case, you will have no trouble fighting off an attack that is focused on them. But it will take time and practise to master the skill. In future lessons we will dedicate a part to practising fending off an attack, and another part on other lingering memories you may have yet to confront," Snape said in his teacher-like voice, showing none of the emotions that he may have let through before.
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Don't forget to clear your mind before bed. Good evening, Potter."
"Good evening, Professor."
That night when Harry lay in bed, his mind lingered on his lesson with Snape. He would never have imagined him and Snape having so much in common. They both had families who hated magic, and both their tormentors had hurt them because of who or what they were. And both of their tormentors were muggles who needed control over their situation and enforced it with abuse.
It felt strange that Snape now knew of this secret, abusive childhood he had had. But now he knew that Snape was probably the only one who could completely relate and understand how it felt. The powerlessness, the guilt, the shame... Snape must have suffered those things as well. And, looking back on it now, it was quite easy to talk to the man about it. He wouldn't say it felt like a relief to be able to put everything out there, but after the initial shock of Snape actually being somewhat nice about it, he did feel a bit lighter. It was pretty weird to see the man actually trying to be civil and attempting normal conversations. And it had worked, hadn't it? He had finally been able to occlude his mind tonight! He realised that he believed Snape when he said that it would get better and easier from here on out. The fact that Snape was confident about that fact drove any of his insecurities away. He would succeed. Snape would make sure he would, just like he had tonight.
"I'm not going to allow you to give up!" The man had yelled. And he hadn't. He pushed through till the end, which was exactly why Harry had chosen him as his teacher over Dumbledore. He would push him no matter what, regardless of how uncomfortable it would be, he would not give up on him. It gave him a fuzzy feeling in his stomach, knowing that Snape would go out of his way to help him get rid of Voldemort's visions.
His mind wandered to the story of Snape's family and he again grew curious. Why did Snape's mother not tell his father that she was a witch? And how come they died at such a young age, assuming they were not that old when they had their son? Were they sick? Or did something else happen to them? It was curious that their deaths were only a year apart. And that Snape had become an orphan early in his life, at just seventeen years of age.
Yet another thing we have in common...
Feeling his eyelids getting heavier, the exhausting events of the day catching up on him, he pulled the sheets up to his chin and closed his eyes.
With a smile he realised that today he had actually talked about Snape's family over a cup of tea, exactly as he had joked about with Ginny back at the beginning of his Occlumency lessons. He couldn't wait to tell her.
Chapter 16 Progress
To be continued...