Harry, though he did eventually drift off into slumber, did not relax again that night. The dreams that plagued him featured Sirius, Cedric, and his parents standing before him with accusing eyes and Professor Snape standing to the side laughing.

Severus had crawled into bed after making his vow. As he slipped under the covers he unknowingly kicked the roll of parchment Harry had left off the bed. It landed on the floor where it rolled under the edge of the dresser, unnoticed.

The next day came far too soon in Harry’s opinion. He was unusually tired and doubted he would be able to do a good job at Occlumency that morning. After finishing a light breakfast he headed to the usual room to meet Snape.

Severus was waiting for the boy when he came in. Harry wouldn’t look up at first, he thought he should sit down before letting Snape try to breach his mind. He didn’t fancy spending all morning falling on the floor.

“Potter,” Snape said, trying to get the boy to look him in the eye so he could get started. When he was settled, the boy looked up.

“Legilimens.” Right away he could tell that Potter was weak from fatigue and worry. The boy fought, but it was only a few seconds work for Severus to get past Harry’s mental barriers. Severus had decided to pick up where he had left off on Friday; accordingly he began looking for early memories. When he found another memory featuring the tiny hole he had seen before he tried to look at it. Suddenly Potter was struggling with him furiously and this new-found strength felt very similar to panic. More intrigued than ever, Severus backed away intent on coming back.

He moved on to the next memory which consisted of a garden. Extreme thirst stood out as well as hunger and fatigue. A woman appeared and began yelling at a small child, Potter, Snape realized, after a moment.

The scene changed abruptly. Potter was running as fast as he could, but he suddenly tripped over a crack in the asphalt. Two larger boys grabbed him and hauled him, kicking and squirming, back the way he had come until they reached the largest child Severus had ever seen. The boy grabbed Potter’s glasses and threw them over his shoulder then started punching the smaller boy.

An enormous man was dragging Potter along by the ear, lecturing him for picking fights and breaking his glasses.

Potter was sitting in that dark place, crying silently, remembered hunger gnawing at his belly.

A girl smiled at him but turned away when the whale tripped him.

An enormous woman appeared and began insulting Potter’s parents. She handed the whale a twenty pound note and gave Potter a toothpick.

Potter was cooking bacon when his cousin shoved him into the cabinet.

The tall, thin woman had cut off Potter’s hair and the boy was crying about it. The next morning his hair was back to normal and the woman screamed at him, calling him a freak.

Potter was running away from his cousin again when he found himself on the roof. The large man was dragging him by the ear again. He opened a door under the stairs and tossed Potter into the small, dark space. The click of a lock was heard.

Potter was watching a car drive away when a cat crawled over his shoulders. Arabella Figg was approaching him with a large photo album.

Potter was sent to get the mail and found a Hogwarts envelope addressed to H. Potter, Cupboard under the Stairs.

Potter was standing before a window with bars on it, looking out at the setting sun.

Potter was watching out the same window as a taxi drove away.

Potter was hungry, so hungry, but he had to keep going.

Potter was sitting in a darkened room, listening to voices.

Potter was casting the Cruciatus Curse.

Wait! Severus examined the last memory more closely and saw himself and Lucius Malfoy as they had been last night, under the Dark Lord’s wand. But the memory was seen as if from Voldemort’s point of view, and highly colored by pain.

Potter was dropping a scroll on his, Severus’s bed.

Potter was handing him a washcloth.

Potter was leaning against his door sobbing.

Severus blinked as he exited Potter’s mind. All he could do was pant as he sat back in his chair and tried to process all he had just seen. Potter seemed to have had a singularly unhappy life. He needed to think about this.

Harry was curled in the chair across from Snape. The boy was trembling with a mixture of emotions. He was tired; he was hurt; he was furious with Snape; he was afraid that the man would use his memories against him; he was grateful he hadn’t seen anything worse. Both of them sat there for several minutes trying to collect themselves.

Finally Harry stood up and strode unsteadily toward the door.

“Potter,” Snape’s voice interrupted him. “I don’t think I gave you permission to go.”

“Forgive me, sir,” the boy said sarcastically, “but I just don’t care right now.” He opened the door and left the room, practically running to his bedroom.

Snape just sat, angry with Potter but not ready to confront him yet. He needed time to let his own mind stop spinning. He let his mind wander back to Potter’s memory of dropping a scroll on his bed last night. Severus hadn’t seen any parchment lying about. He made his way pensively up to his own bedroom and looked around the room. He didn’t see anything out of place.

He walked down the hall to Potter’s room. Severus knocked before entering. The youth was sprawled face down on his bed, shoulders shaking. As soon as he heard the door open, Harry sat up and wiped furiously at his face, although tears were not immediately apparent. He stared mutely at Severus, who was feeling very unsettled.

Somehow knowing that Potter had cried was very different from seeing him cry. “Potter,” he said after a moment, “did you leave anything in my room, last night?”

Harry stared at him a moment longer, trying to remember where he had left his report. “Yes,” he said at last, “a report for Professor Dumbledore. I think I dropped it on your bed.”

“A report on what, precisely?”

“The meeting last night, or what I saw of it, anyway. I was going to ask if you knew a better way to send it than Hedwig.”

Many things sprang to Severus’s lips, waiting to be said, none of them kind. He wanted to berate the boy for not practicing his Occlumency and not telling him sooner about the report and ask him how long he had been having visions and what he had seen last night. After a moment Snape satisfied himself with saying, “I’ll see that it is delivered.”

He left and returned to his own rooms. Severus looked around again and finally, when he saw nothing, he pulled out his wand and said, “Accio Potter’s report.” A scroll of fair size flew at him from beneath his dresser. He had better go and contact Dumbledore. Not only did he have Potter’s report to deliver, he had his own to make as well.

Severus quickly made his way from his bedroom to the study. It was much earlier in the day than he usually spoke to Albus, but he knew the older man always kept the mirror on his person. “Albus Dumbledore,” he breathed, fogging the glass slightly. A few moments later the familiar face came into view.

“Severus!” cried the old man delightedly, “this is indeed a very welcome surprise!”

“Perhaps not quite so welcome, Headmaster. I am afraid I have a report to make on last night’s little get-together.”

Much of the twinkle left the kind blue eyes. “Why did you not call me sooner, Severus? Are you hurt?” Concern laced Dumbledore’s voice.

“No, but I am afraid I was rather distracted by a few things that happened here.”

“What things, Severus?” Albus inquired sharply.

“Your golden boy saw what happened last night is all. He inquired after me when I got back. I am not used to such attention.”

“I see,” the older man was thoughtful a moment. “Is Harry alright?”

“I believe so,” the young wizard shifted slightly.

“Severus?”

“At any rate he will be with a little time.”

“Severus, what happened?”

“You’ve been pestering me to get to know the child for years now, Albus. I simply took advantage of this morning’s Occlumency lesson to do that,” he said defensively.

The Headmaster closed his eyes a moment. “Severus,” he said at last, “when I said you should get to know him, I meant you should talk to him, not ransack his memories.”

“Think of it as killing two birds with one stone. Not only do I know more about the brat, he now has greater incentive to learn Occlumency.”

“I highly doubt Harry needed more incentive, Severus,” the old man frowned. “I believe you have a report to give me?”

Properly chastened, Severus told his superior what he had seen and heard the night before. When he had finished he held up the scroll. “Potter wrote a report as well. How shall I send it to you?”

“Just read it to me, if you would, Severus.”

Snape dutifully read all that was written on the parchment. It was much the same as his own report but included small details about how Voldemort had felt about certain things. Severus was amazed that a child of sixteen remembered everything in such detail. At first he was curious about why Potter included the Dark Lord’s emotional reactions, but he realized after a few minutes that the self-styled aristocrat’s disappointments revealed which plans were most important to him.

When Snape had finished he stared at the report a minute longer. It seemed that, in this regard at least, he had underestimated Potter.

“Is that all, Severus?”

The words pulled him back to the present. “I’m sorry?” he looked up.

“I said, is that all, Severus?”

“Yes,” Snape nodded.

“Perhaps I should leave you to think, then. I would like to talk to you and Harry later on.”

“Alright, Headmaster.”

The mirror went dark and Severus was left alone with his thoughts. He called Cinder and requested a cup of tea. When it arrived Severus settled himself to do some hard thinking about what he had seen that morning.

First things first, Snape decided. Identify the participants in the memories. The tall, thin woman must be his Aunt Petunia; Potter had mentioned she made him garden. The man was next, Potter’s uncle, what was his name? And the small whale would then be their son, Potter’s cousin. Snape didn’t know his name either. The large woman he had seen resembled the uncle, his sister perhaps. Hadn’t Potter once mentioned he had another aunt; Aunt Meg, or something?

At any rate none of them seemed to treat Potter as though he were a hero, or even particularly special. In fact, Snape mused, they seemed to hate him. He thought a little longer. Aunt Petunia yelled at Potter. Aunt Other taunted him. Cousin Whale beat Potter up and Uncle What’s-His-Name dragged Potter along by the ear and tossed him into a cupboard. Granted, these could be isolated incidents, but Potter had had no control over the memories Severus had seen, so if the behavior was unusual he should have seen some happy memories of the Dursleys too.

Suddenly Severus realized what exactly it was he had thought a minute ago. Uncle tossed Potter in a cupboard; a small, dark space like the one Potter had all those memories of. It couldn’t be, though...could it? Potter would have had to spend a lot of time there. While Snape knew Potter was no angel, even he doubted the boy had done enough wrong to merit that much punishment. This led to the rather disturbing conclusion that Snape had been entirely wrong about Potter. It seemed the lad was not spoiled at all; he was mistreated.

Severus Snape was not a nice man, he knew it. He often taunted and teased his students and said things that made them cry. At the same time, however, he was very protective of the students he thought of as his children. The very idea that someone could physically mistreat a child, even an annoying one like Harry Potter, was utterly repugnant to him. It was a sentiment that had gotten him in trouble more than once, but it was his sentiment, and he fancied that as long as it was his he was redeemable.

Perhaps Albus was right, and he should talk to the lad. Severus looked up at the clock. It was long past lunch, nearly dinner. That would most likely be the best time to talk; the boy would be too busy eating to run away.

Harry had not gone to lunch. He had lain curled up on his bed for awhile feeling sorry for himself for being required to deal with Snape and hating Snape for being so cruel and for betraying him by violating his memories that day.

For all he had thought he hated the man before it had never occurred to him that the man could be so hypocritical. After the pensieve incident Harry would have thought that Snape would be he first to respect the privacy of his memories. Apparently he had been wrong. Snape had gone digging through his memories twice, not just probing for weaknesses, digging.

Harry couldn’t understand why his professor was being so mean to him, especially after Harry had been nice to him. He had suffered under Cruciatus, too, and he would have been grateful if anyone had been around afterward to take care of him. Unless that was Snape’s problem, he was embarrassed that Harry had seen him when he was weak. And Snape called him arrogant, Harry snorted.

What did he hope to accomplish, looking through his memories like that? It was almost as though the man was looking for something. But what could it be? Harry didn’t know of anything Snape would find valuable. The only thing it could be, Harry decided angrily, was more ammunition to use against him in class and elsewhere.

Well, Harry thought standing quickly; he wasn’t going to allow Snape to take advantage of him that way! Harry made his way stealthily to what he had unconsciously dubbed “his laboratory.” When he had reached his haven safely Harry seated himself on the floor in a corner of the room where he could lean against the walls. Sitting in a cross-legged position Harry began trying to clear his mind. It was quite difficult.

Harry had been practicing since he had arrived at Snape’s house and it was much easier than it had been, but Harry had a fair amount on his mind that day. Once it had been accomplished, Harry focused on building his defenses. This was also difficult, particularly since Snape had never told him how exactly to do it. Harry imagined that he built brick walls around his mind and reinforced them with steel.

He had been practicing for several hours when Cinder appeared before him. “Harry Potter must go to the dining room!” she squeaked. “Master Snape is waiting for Harry Potter, sir!”

“Alright,” Harry said with a hand on his chest; the small elf had startled him. He got up hurriedly and ran to the dining room where his professor was seated.

Severus had made his way impatiently to the dining room. He wanted to talk to Potter as soon as possible, before the child did anything to annoy him and make him change his mind. Severus had been sitting at the table for twenty minutes waiting for Potter. He wondered if the boy was planning to skip the meal. Snape called Cinder and asked how man meals the boy had eaten that day. “One, Master Snape, sir,” was the prompt reply. One? That meant that the boy definitely had to come to this meal.

Ten minutes later Potter still hadn’t turned up. A very exasperated Snape sent Cinder to find and fetch him. It was time he and Potter had a talk.