Harry Potter and the Old Ones

Another delightful weekend after the first black magic class after Christmas—

At least for most of my classmates.

Although the Hogwarts curriculum has become more and more interesting under Tierra's successive educational reforms, students are students after all, especially a group of teenage brats who are eleven, two, three, four, five, six or seven years old. Head, after all, not everyone is Hermione, and not everyone can spend weekends, or even the entire Christmas break, studying like Hermione.

So despite just a happy Christmas break, the little wizards at Hogwarts are happy to have another happy weekend -

But this weekend wasn't so happy for Harry—

"Stand up, Potter!" Snape said sternly.

On the first Saturday night after Christmas, Harry knelt again on the floor of Snape's office, trying to clear his own brain.

He'd just been forced to relive a string of childhood memories he didn't even know he had, mostly the humiliation of Dudley's gang in elementary school.

"What's the last memory?" Snape asked slowly, walking over.

"I, I don't know..." said Harry, standing up wearily, finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish between the images and voices Snape kept eliciting, "my cousin wanted me to stand there. The one in the toilet?"

"No," Snape said softly, "a man kneeling in the middle of a dark room??"

"That's... nothing."

Snape's dark eyes looked like drills into Harry's. Harry remembered that eye contact was crucial to Legilimency, and he blinked and looked away.

"How did that guy and that room get into your head, Potter?" Snape said.

"That—" Harry avoided his eyes, "that—was just a dream I had."

"A dream?" Snape said.

There was a silence, and Harry stared at a dead frog in a purple liquid.

"You know what we're doing here, Potter?" Snape whispered viciously. "Do you know why I gave up my evening relaxation time for this nasty job?"

"I know," Harry said stiffly.

"Tell me what we're doing here, Potter."

"Teach me Occlumency," Harry said, his eyes wandering around the room, staring aimlessly at a dead eel.

"Yeah, Potter...yes, even if you're stupid..."

-Harry stared back at Snape, looking at him hatefully-

"I thought after two months of class, you must have improved a little. How many dreams have you had about the Dark Lord?"

"That's it," Harry lied.

"Perhaps," Snape's grim dark eyes narrowed, "perhaps you like having these hallucinations and strange dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special—important?"

"No." Harry gritted his teeth, fingers gripping the wand handle tightly.

"That's good, Potter," said Snape coldly, "because you're neither special nor important, and you don't have to figure out what the Dark Lord said to his Death Eaters."

"Yeah—that's your job, isn't it?" Harry yelled at him.

He didn't mean to say that, but said it out of anger.

They stared at each other for a long time, and Harry thought he had gone too far.

But there was a strange, almost satisfied look on Snape's face.

"Yes, Potter," his eyes gleamed, "that's my job. Now, are you ready, let's do it again??"

Snape raised his wand again: "One-two-three- Legilimency!"

A hundred dementors came at Harry from the lake...his face contorted with tension...they were getting closer...he saw under the hood Black hole...but he also saw Snape standing in front of him, staring at his face, mumbling words...for some reason, Snape became clear, the Dementors faded ...Harry raises his wand—

"Armor protection!"

Snape stumbled, and his wand flew up, away from Harry—

Suddenly Harry's mind was filled with unfamiliar memories—

A man with a hook nose is yelling at a cowering woman, a little boy with dark hair is crying in the corner... A teenager with greasy hair is sitting alone in a dark bedroom, shooting a wand at the ceiling Flies...a scrawny boy trying to get on a bouncing broom, a girl next to him laughing at him—

"Enough!" Harry felt a shove in his chest, and he stumbled back a few steps, hitting a shelf by the wall, and something shattered with a click.

Snape was shaking slightly, and his face turned pale.

The back of Harry's robes was wet, he had just smashed a bottle, and inside a slimy thing swirled in the draining potion.

"Back to normal!" Snape hissed, and the bottle was closed again.

"Ah, Potter... that's an improvement." Snape panted slightly, straightening the Pensieve, as if checking if the thoughts he had saved before class were still there. "I don't recall telling you to use the Iron Charm...but it certainly worked..."

Harry didn't speak, he felt there was danger in anything he said. He knew that he had just broken into Snape's memory and saw Snape's childhood.

It made Harry uncomfortable, thinking that the little boy who was crying watching his parents fight was standing in front of him right now, with so much hatred in his eyes.

"Again, how about that?" Snape said fiercely.

Harry was terrified because he guessed he was going to pay for what he had just done.

The two stood across the table, and Harry felt it was much harder to clear his mind this time.

"Count to three," Snape said, raising his wand again, "one-two-"

Before Harry could concentrate and clear his mind, Snape had already shouted, "Legilicon!"

He seemed to be back at the time of the war at the Ministry of Magic that night, galloping down the narrow corridors of the Department of Mysteries, stone walls and torches passing by—

They finally got rid of the Death Eaters chasing behind them, they finally ran into an elevator, they finally came to the reception hall of the Ministry of Magic, and they only needed to run a few more steps to return to the safety of Hogwar through the Floo network. Yes, but—

A figure was standing beside the magic fountain. The figure was tall and thin, wearing a black mask, with a terrifying snake-like face that was pale and haggard, and the slit-like scarlet eyes stared at him.

"Ah, Harry." Voldemort smiled viciously, "I'm still wondering when you'll be up."

......

"Potter!"

Harry opened his eyes, and he lay on the ground again, but couldn't remember how he fell. UU reading www.uukanshu.com He was gasping for breath, as if he had really run for so long.

"Explain yourself!" Snape said angrily, standing in front of him.

"I...don't know what's going on," Harry said honestly, standing up, knocking a bag on the back of his head, feeling as if he had a fever.

"You're not working hard enough!"

For some reason, Snape seemed more angry than when Harry saw his own memory two minutes earlier.

"You're lazy and sloppy, Potter, no wonder the Dark Lord—"

"Can you explain, sir?" Harry fumed again. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord? I've only heard Death Eaters call him that—"

Snape opened his mouth, seeing the growl about to blurt out—

"Knock Knock Knock-"

But an even knock on the door interrupted the angry roar that Snape was about to back off.