Strange Beginnings
Some lines taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Thank you for reading.
Severus refused to accept any blame for his potion inducing a several hours long sleep akin to a coma. He had warned Dumbledore of the risks in giving the boy such an experimental concoction. Yes, Severus had tested it on himself and believed it to be safe, but he wasn't the one with a connection directly into the Dark Lord’s head. Potter was a completely unique conundrum and it wasn't as if he had come to him well nourished, rested, and prepared for the rigors of learning Occlumency. Even now, Severus wasn't sure if it was the potion that needed tweaking or if Potter simply needed a good sleep and some food before he took it again. Nonetheless, he'd been working on it all afternoon.
“Accio,” Severus murmured, and a jar of powdered jewelweed rose off the shelf and towards him.
Catching it, Severus added two generous dashes into the cauldron simmering before him. Its turquoise contents suddenly glowed green and began to smoke, reeking of nail polish remover and something earthy. Leaving it to sit still for five minutes, Severus used that time to turn his attention to the peppermint leaves that needed to be sliced into even strips before being added to the potion. This was to reduce Potter’s nausea and was a rather simple adjustment to make.
However, reducing his drowsiness was more complicated when calming and blurring the outer walls of the mind was how the potion essentially managed to build its barriers. Severus had spent the majority of the time that day that he was supposed to be teaching the sleeping Potter Occlumency sitting at his desk wondering if such modifications were even possible. It might have been more prudent to simply provide Potter with Dreamless Sleep and a strict sleep regimen to follow in order to make him less susceptible to exhaustion, but Severus also didn't want to have other potions competing in the boy's system and was determined to find a better solution.
“He's fine,” said Dumbledore, walking back across the hall from the bedroom where he had just finished examining the boy. “I think this is the result of weeks of insomnia, isolation, and grief. His next dose likely won't have such a profound effect on him but for now, your potion has brought him much needed relief.”
“Well, I suppose we all have different standards for what's considered ‘fine’,” Severus said stiffly. “Nonetheless, I am working to reduce the potion’s side effects.”
“How do you hope to do that?” Dumbledore asked with interest.
“I think powdered billywigs,” Severus answered. He had considered several other alternatives but thought the billywigs would complement the rest of the potion ingredients nicely, while preserving alertness they really couldn't afford to lose.
Dumbledore nodded his head thoughtfully, walking a circle around the cramped little workspace that Severus had set up for himself after his father had died. “I'm sure you'll do very well, Severus and I know that Harry is in good hands. My primary concern at the moment is his aunt and uncle's refusal to take him back when the plan was for him to return there every evening after Occlumency lessons.”
“Perhaps you should have let his guardians in on your plan if you were so adamant about it,” Severus replied. “Potter’s uncle was very insistent that he not do precisely that.”
“I see that now,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I had hoped that Petunia might be more accommodating after all these years. I also hadn't expected you to give into them like you did.”
“Well then, you should have warned me that they were positively salivating at the opportunity to get rid of the boy six weeks early,” Severus replied. “Once Potter wakes up, I'll take him to Grimmauld Place and I will bring him back here in the morning. Only if you make it clear to Black that he is not allowed back here! Why you even provided him this address, I still don't know.”
“Sirius is Harry’s Godfather,” Dumbledore said calmly, reaching a hand into the pocket of his purple robes and pulling out a sherbet lemon to unwrap. “It seemed only fair to me that he be informed about where Harry would be spending such a significant amount of his time. I did not, however, authorize him to come here unannounced. We've already had words.”
“And when has Black - or Potter for that matter - ever listened when you said not to do something?” asked Severus bitterly.
“Now which Potter are we talking about?” asked Dumbledore lightly, popping the sherbet lemon into his mouth.
Fury rose within Severus as he turned away from the headmaster, who was smiling as he concentrated on pulling two sherbet lemons apart. Kneeling down, Severus began rummaging for the jar of powdered billywigs stored on the bottom shelf. He decided to try just a pinch for now, wait to observe Potter’s reaction and then go from there. Intently ignoring Dumbledore, Severus added the ingredient to the cauldron and stirred it precisely five times clockwise to one counter clockwise.
“Scarpin Revelas,” he murmured quietly, the spell designed to check his work over and ensure that there were no errors; that Severus had considered all the ramifications of adding new ingredients so that they wouldn’t offset the potion’s delicate balance turning it void or even dangerous. Everything measured up however, and he was satisfied as he poured the appropriate dose into a clean vial. The side effects of drinking it should now be minimal or non-existent, and resentment aside, Severus was pleased with his results.
“There is nobody who does what you do better than you,” Dumbledore said generously, who hadn't spoken once in the time that it took for Severus to complete his potion. “Harry can be moved to Grimmauld Place once his potion regimen is stabilized and he has adequate Occlumency skills. For now, he will stay here.”
“No,” said Severus simply. He’d already had a nagging suspicion of Dumbledore’s intentions and had had his response ready, not that it would do him any good.
“I'm not asking you, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly. “This is the most convenient solution when you'll be working together each day anyway.”
After Dumbledore left, Severus remained rooted to his place for a long while afterwards, feeling broken and disrespected down to his very core. Dumbledore knew how he felt about Potter. He knew all of what Severus had endured and couldn't forget. It just didn’t seem to matter to the headmaster, who looked at Severus as a soldier in his army, a useful pawn, and nothing more. Imagining there to be anything beyond that in their arrangement was foolish. And now Severus was charged with even more unpleasantries because it was convenient for Dumbledore, and Severus lived to do his bidding.
“No! Nooooooo. Don’t kill Cedric! Noooo!”
The hairs on the back of Severus’s neck stood up the moment he heard the boy cry out from the next room. A nightmare surely, but what if it wasn’t? What if the potion had already worn off or been insufficient against the Dark Lord’s powers? Severus hesitated, considering the proper course of action, while the boy’s moans grew louder still.
“Dad, help me Dad! He killed Cedric. Noooo! He’s going to kill me too, Mum! No, Mum! Help me!”
“Potter! Wake up!” Severus said loudly, upon entering the room. “You're dreaming. Enough of this foolishness! Wake up.”
Severus shook him roughly by the shoulder until Potter's bottle green eyes stared up at him in alarm. Then Potter sat straight up on the bed and adjusted the askew glasses that he had neglected to take off before falling asleep.
“How long was I out for?” Potter muttered, once he'd caught his breath.
“All day,” Severus replied. “I'm not sure even your father ever went to such lengths to skive off a lesson; but tell me this, Potter, did you just see the Dark Lord?”
The boy nodded. “Vol-”
“Don’t say his name!” Severus snapped. “Were you dreaming or were you in his head? Think Potter, this is very important.”
“I was back in the graveyard,” Potter answered.
“So just a nightmare then?” Severus asked, feeling relieved. “You didn’t see anyone else? No information about where he is or what he’s doing? He didn’t tell you anything?”
“I saw him kill Cedric,” Potter said, staring determinedly down at the shaking hands in his lap. “He was going to kill me. My Mum and Dad got in front of me and he killed them.”
“So a nightmare then,” said Severus coolly. “That's understandable. Is your scar hurting?”
“No,” Potter shook his head.
Severus took this for a positive sign. His potion was working and hopefully would be less burdensome to take now that he'd made those changes. He got up to go back across the hall and retrieve the vial he had already filled with Potter’s second dose.
“Drink this, Potter,” he instructed, and the boy did not hesitate to gulp it down.
Severus watched as a slightly strained look crossed over Potter’s face but he made no word of complaint, did not threaten to be sick, or beg him for water. Satisfied for the time being, Severus silently took the empty flask back from Potter and went downstairs.
XXXXXXXX
After Snape had gone, Harry remained sitting on the bed watching as the sky outside the dirty bedroom window slowly changed from pink to black. He felt groggy and confused - but not ill. The only grievance he had about taking the potion this time was the tingling in his head, but he waited for that to pass like it had before and eventually it did. He wasn't weighed down by fatigue this time either. He seemed to have slept all that a person could for now - making up for all the nights at Privet Drive when he'd tossed and turned for hours, afraid to close his eyes and visit the graveyard once again.
Harry stood up once he felt able. The room was dark but he could make out the shadowy figure of his trunk returned to normal size on the floor and Hedwig's empty cage on top of the dresser. There were no personal effects in the room, aside from a corded lamp next to the bed and a stack of books beside Hedwig's cage. Still, the realities of this being Snape’s room inside Snape’s house did not escape him and now that he was becoming more fully awake, Harry had no clue what to do next.
He decided, after some deliberation, to go downstairs and came upon a very peculiar sight; Snape sitting on his sofa with a plate of food in his lap in front of a very old television set. This had clearly been a muggle home and its current occupant was apparently not above utilizing non-magic conveniences when they suited him. The room was even lit up - not by candles - but by electricity.
“There you are, Potter,” Snape said coldly, looking over his hooked nose at him with immense dislike. “There's a plate for you on the kitchen counter. I expect you to eat it all.”
Unsure what to think, Harry turned on his heel and found a supper waiting for him that immediately made his stomach grumble with want. Knowing Snape, Harry could have easily imagined being presented with a vile nutrient potion to choke down and fill his caloric needs. Instead there was a large steak, roasted potatoes, salad and what appeared to be a frothy chocolate milkshake. Sitting down at the table, Harry angled his chair so as to keep an eye on the television while he tucked into his food, feeling famished.
‘ - and finally, Bungy the budgie has found a novel way of keeping cool this summer. Bungy, who lives at the Five Feathers in Barnsley, has learned to water ski! Mary Dorkins went to find out more!’
Harry stabbed a piece of his steak in frustration. If they were discussing water-skiing budgerigars on the news, there was nothing worth hearing. No murders or mysterious disappearances - nothing that could be traced back to Voldemort. Harry had been taking the Daily Prophet that summer as well but he merely glanced at the front page before throwing it aside these days; when the idiots who ran the paper finally realized that Voldemort was back it would be headline news, and that was the only kind that Harry cared about.
“I’ve been listening to the muggle news all summer waiting to hear about things happening - things the muggles wouldn’t understand,” Harry told Snape, hoping to finally get some of his questions answered. “ But there’s been nothing at all.”
“Imagine that,” Snape said sarcastically. “Why would the Dark Lord be foolish enough to get noticed by the muggles when everyone is conveniently ignoring his return? Use your head, Potter!”
Harry scowled down at his plate. He wanted to point out that he knew Snape had met with Voldemort on at least one occasion and that he, Harry, deserved to have some of that information when he'd been the one to see Voldemort come back. However, he knew that would get him nowhere with Snape. So, he continued listening to the news in vain desperation that it would provide him with some clues while he finished his food. As soon as he'd eaten his last bite, Snape shut off the television and announced that they were going to begin Occlumency.
“I am going to attempt to break into your mind,” said Snape softly, once Harry had retrieved his wand from his trunk upstairs and they stood facing one another in the living room. “We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse, you will find that similar powers are needed for this ... .Brace yourself, now ...Legilimens!”
Snape had struck before Harry was ready, before Harry had even begun to summon any force of resistance; the living room swam in front of his eyes and vanished, image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings….and then he reminded himself that he didn't want this to be happening. He didn't want to let Snape in. Was supposed to fighting him. “No more….No!”
He felt a sharp pain in his knee. The living room had come back into view and he realized he had fallen to the floor; one of his knees had collided painfully with the coffee table. He looked up at Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry welt there, like a scorch mark.
“Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?” Snape asked coolly.
“No,” said Harry bitterly, getting up from the floor.
“I thought not,” Snape said contemptuously. “You lost control.”
“Did you see everything I saw?” Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
Snape suddenly looked very pleased. “I could not. I was aware of a rush of your memories but nothing of substance, nothing that made any sense to an outsider. Some blurred colours, muffled voices, and unidentifiable figures. The potion is protecting your mind. If I can't see inside it then the Dark Lord shouldn't be able to either.”
“Then why do I need Occlumency… sir?” Harry asked, rubbing at his knee. “Couldn’t I just spend the summer in hiding with Sirius and take the potion?”
“Your fate for this summer has already been decided by Professor Dumbledore,” Snape said coldly. “You're to remain here. As this potion is extremely experimental, you cannot take it unless under my supervision, and I have better things to do than chase you all over the country just because you fancy being waited on.”
“I don't expect to be waited on,” Harry retorted angrily.
“You do expect to be waited on,” Snape said after a moment’s pause. “You expect to be handed all the answers. I'm wasting my time trying to jam some information in that over inflated head of yours and you--”
“I’m doing Occlumency! I just pushed you out!” Harry interrupted.
“Yes, for a first attempt it could have been a lot worse,” Snape said dismissively. “But you’ve already forgotten the reason why we’re doing this, Potter.”
“No, I haven’t,” Harry replied. “I’m learning how to block him out.”
“While still wondering why Professor Dumbledore isn't jumping to confide everything we know about the Dark Lord to you and bring you to headquarters?”
“I have a right to know some things,” Harry argued. “I’m the one who saw Voldemort come back!”
“Do not say his name!” Snape hissed, and he automatically jerked his branded arm protectively towards his chest as though hit with an electric shock. He glared at Harry as though he had done it on purpose, but Harry glared right back at him.
“It is none of your concern what the Dark Lord is doing,” Snape said in his most dangerous whisper. “That is why you are learning Occlumency; so you can separate yourself from him. Do I make myself quite clear to you, Potter? You are only a child and it doesn’t matter to me how essential you want to think you are to this war. It’s my job to learn the Dark Lord’s plans, not yours.”
“Because you’re so essential and irreplaceable to this war, sir?” Harry asked tauntingly, sure he had gone too far this time. He didn't care though. He wanted Snape to be as angry as he was, but at his words Snape actually looked mildly pleased.
“Yes, Potter,” he said with a smirk. “And you want to know why? Because fighting this war is my life. It isn’t yours. You’ll have a life of purpose beyond the Dark Lord if you don’t run out and do something stupid to get yourself killed in the first five minutes. Don’t act like you’re someone with nothing to lose just because you want to play the hero”.
“I don’t care about being a hero,” Harry protested, while Snape made a derisive snort of disbelief. “But Vol--he killed my parents! He killed Cedric. I want to help fight him. I want to end him.”
“Then start by learning Occlumency properly,” Snape said boredly.
“I am!” Harry thundered.
“And remember that you are barely above mediocre and no more important to this war than anyone else,” Snape added coldly.
“Tell that to him,” Harry snapped, “he’s the one who wants inside my head so badly.”
“And once I die and am unable to be at your beck and call with potions, I would hope you'd have some skill of your own to fight him with instead of depending on -”
Snape cut off mid-sentence and gripped onto his arm. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.
He was out of the room and up the stairs in a flash, before Harry even realized what was happening. He returned in under a minute, changed into black wizard’s robes. There was a sudden impatient rapping on the front door and Harry startled, though his fears were immediately put to rest when Sirius hurried into the room.
“Are you alright, Harry?” were the first words out of his mouth. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been summoned, Black,” Snape said, before Harry had a chance to say anything. “And you were the only Order member I could think of who had nothing but time on his hands and could be here in a second’s notice. You've just proven me right, haven't you? Stay here until I get back. Potter is not to leave this house under any circumstances. You know Dumbledore’s orders.”
“Dumbledore also ordered me to stay inside Grimmauld Place but you’re sort of playing fast and loose with that one right now, aren’t you, Snape?” Sirius replied angrily. “Did you miss me that much already?”
“He took the potion a little more than an hour ago,” Snape said, as though Sirius hadn’t spoken. “You’re to watch for signs of confusion, rash, or fever. If his scar hurts, contact Dumbledore immediately. Otherwise, just lay low and stay inside.”
“So you’ve said,” Sirius replied, opening the front door of the house and motioning impatiently for Snape to go. “Didn’t you also say that Death Eaters were supposed to apparate to Voldemort’s side immediately once they felt their Marks burn? You’re running a little late, aren’t you?”
The look Snape gave Sirius before exiting the house was murderous, but if he was afraid, then he didn’t show it. He didn’t say another word to either of them before stepping out into the darkness. Many of the street lamps on Spinner's End were burned out which made Snape almost impossible to see in his black cloak. Harry rushed forward to join Sirius at the door while they watched together as the shadowy figure disapparated with a loud pop to Lord Voldemort’s side.
“Good riddance,” Sirius muttered, slamming the door shut and then placing both of his hands onto Harry’s shoulder so to get a better look at him. “Now tell me for real. How are you?”