Snape advanced on Harry, his dark eyes boring into Harry’s green ones. Harry was too afraid to even look away. He knew that Snape was an excellent Legilimens and he knew exactly what Snape was doing. He finally recovered enough to turn his face away, but Snape grabbed his chin and forced his face up. Harry felt cold dread as Snape delved through his memories, dragging up all the most recent ones, the ones with him in them.

Snape finally released Harry’s mind after seeing himself put the Cruciatus on Harry. He took a step backwards, looking startled. Harry swallowed his fear and said “Professor?” softly.

“Potter, that wasn’t me,” said Snape, his voice sounding strangely choked.

“What?” asked Harry.

“I have no idea who that was, but it definitely wasn’t me. The Dark Lord had sent me off to make more Polyjuice, a strengthened--” Snape stumbled backwards, looking sick. “That’s what they wanted it for.”

Harry had never before seen the cold Potions Master so shocked. His face as ashen and his eyes almost wild. All at once, he seemed to snap back to his usual acerbic self.

“Potter, I shall return momentarily. You will not leave this room,” Snape snapped and hurried out of the room.

Harry leaned against the head of the bed, confused by all of this. If Snape hadn’t been the one doing… doing those things to him... then who had? And why hadn’t Snape been allowed in there? Further, how had he gotten away?

He was pondering whether to go and investigate what Snape was doing when the man came in carrying a Pensieve. Harry’s stomach lurched as he realized that Snape was going to look at his memories. Snape set the Pensieve down on Harry’s bed and he tried to inch away from it.

“Potter, stay still,” said Snape irritably. Harry felt the tip of a wand being pressed against his temple and he fought not to flinch. “Think of all the memories that have me in them. Think hard.”

Harry unwillingly focused on the things he wanted to forget, of Snape carving words in his flesh, casting curses on him. He whimpered softly as Snape quietly uttered a spell. He felt a gentle pulling sensation and the memories were gone. He had a vague recollection of something Snape-related, but couldn’t remember more than that.

Harry felt the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the handle of a wand. His wand. Touching it made him feel cold and sick, but he kept holding it. Snape wrapped his hand around his wrist and pushed it forward, into the silvery liquid flowing in the Pensieve. And then they were falling, falling into his memories.

Harry scrunched his eyes shut as soon as he saw himself being pinned down, screaming for mercy he wouldn’t get. Snape’s grip on his wrist remained tight, grounding him to reality. He heard Snape’s silky voice and kept his eyes shut. He knew what would be coming next. The torture. Oh God, the torture.

His breath caught in this throat and he sank to his knees. Snape released his wrist and instead, he felt a hand fall lightly onto his shoulder. Harry covered his ears with his hands when his own screams started up again.

The memories seemed to last for an eternity, but finally, he felt himself being propelled back into reality. Snape released his shoulder, but Harry remained huddled on the bed.

“Potter, I am going to return your memories now,” said Snape.

“Professor, can’t you just not put them back. I don’t want to have to remember that,” said Harry softly.

“I have to. To heal fully, you need to know the extent of the damage. You will not be able to leave this house until you are healed mentally and physically,” said Snape almost regretfully. Harry heard a whispered spell and then he could recall everything.

“No,” he moaned softly as he held his head in his hands. He suddenly smelled something minty near him.

“Drink this Potter. It will help,” said Snape softly. Harry lifted his head and drank the cool liquid that had been held near him.

Instantly, his head cleared and the memories dulled in intensity. He looked intently at Snape, who was now seated beside his bed, ready for the discussion they were probably going to have.

Snape picked up the Pensieve and moved it to the floor, out of the way, and then looked at Harry.

“Potter, I was not the man that tortured you, nor will I ever display wonton acts of cruelty towards you. Do not think that I like you in the slightest, however. I am here to do a job, and that is to ensure that you are completely healed and able to face the world once more,” said Snape.

“What was the point of doing that to me?” asked Harry.

"To break you down so that he could secure the prophecy. In the end, it did him no good, though,” said Snape.

“What?” asked Harry.

“Knowing the prophecy di--has done him no good,” said Snape. “Now, if that is all, I have potions to be working on.”

“No, that’s not all!” said Harry loudly. “I want to know why we’re here, in this house, not in a Wizarding hospital or Hogwarts?”

“I can’t answer those questions,” said Snape. He handed another vial of potion to Harry, picked up the Pensieve, and walked out of the room. Harry shook his head slightly and downed the potion, not caring at that point what it did to him. His memories were of hell with Death Eaters and Snape wouldn’t answer his questions. He was currently living in a house with a man that hated him and was only helping him because that was what Dumbledore had told him to do.

He dropped the vial onto his bed and lay back against the pillows. His mind grew fuzzy and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch the room spinning crazily.

It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were full of darkness, screaming, and the smell of smoke.

He woke with a start and was immediately handed the orangish restorative. Though he wanted to refuse, he knew it would be best to get the memories over with. He drank it with a feeling that the parts with Snape weren’t going to be the worse and fell back into his memories.

It seemed quite a bit of time had passed, as he was lying, shivering on the stone floor. He was half-curled to preserve what little warmth was left in his body, with chills running up and down his spine.

When he heard the door open with a loud bang, he had barely enough strength to open his eyes and see who had come to torture him now. All he could make out was a dark blur, and he shut his eyes again.

He didn’t move when he heard the clanking of chains and felt them attached to his legs. His arms were yanked behind his back, leaving his head to fall to the floor and his wrists were chained too.

He was dragged up from the floor by the chains, and his feet scraped painfully against the rocky ground as he was dragged to another room.

His scar burned fiercely as he was deposited on the ground. He heard a loud clanking noise, and then the chains were picked up again and attached to something behind him, leaving him to dangle, his toes inches from the ground. Harry’s wrists took the brunt of the pain, as he didn’t have the strength to pull himself into a more comfortable position.

A blurry, black-robed figure made its way toward him. As the figure came closer, he recognized it as Voldemort. Voldemort circled him predatorily for a minute, then he raised his wand.

“Crucio!”

The curse was sheer agony for Harry, and he was glad when it was lifted. Voldemort circled him again as he began to speak.

“Harry Potter, the bane of my existence. How is it you could have possibly survived this long? Perhaps my Death Eaters weren’t harsh enough with you…”

Harry tried to ignore Voldemort over the pounding in his head and the protests of his stomach, but the man’s voice leeched into his very soul. Voldemort growled softly and stalked away.

“You may all have a go at him, but do be sure of one thing--make him scream.”

And scream he did. A seemingly interminable time passed, with each of Voldemort’s servants trying to get him to scream the loudest. Harry retreated into his mind, trying to keep his sanity, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he cracked. He could feel his wild magic straining to escape him, to wreak havoc on his tormentors.

He didn’t try to reign it in, and when it escaped, it sent a dazzling glow of light everywhere. Harry closed his eyes, temporarily blinded by the blast, and heard things crashing down around him. Whatever he had been chained to crashed to the ground, pinning one of his legs under it.

He lay still, having no energy to try and escape. He heard screams and smelled smoke. He heard the crackling of flames as they drew nearer to where he lay, then the acrid smell of burning flesh as the fire reached him.

The burning didn’t last long, though. He heard several spells and the chains and the heavy object pinning him to the ground were removed. He felt arms wrap around his battered body before falling unconscious.