The Gift of a Memory
It was obvious that Hermione was getting frustrated. Her wand was held out and she was flicking it waspishly as she recited the incantation for the Patronus Charm again. All she had managed to conjure so far was a bit of silvery vapour, but it did not have the strength and detail of Harry’s stag patronus. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong….”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” said Sirius. “This is extremely advanced defensive magic that many grown wizards cannot produce. You’re doing fine.”
Plans for a secret defence group at Hogwarts were well under way and Sirius had become a most enthusiastic advisor. That weekend at Grimmauld Place, he and the kids had all thrown themselves into scheming and practicing the defensive spellwork that was the Ministry’s greatest fear. They’d conjured at least a hundred cushions to toss everywhere to prevent bad falls during their work on Stunning Spells, but had spent just as much time bewitching them to chase after each other like harmless bludgers. The house was in total shambles once again, but Sirius was beyond thrilled with the noise and the chaos; silently dreading the abrupt end that would arrive soon in the form of Severus Snape coming to collect Harry, Ron, and Hermione to take back to school.
“Give it a rest, Hermione,” Ron said, after watching a few more of her attempts. He had not progressed any further than she had but did not appear to be taking it as severely to heart. He and Harry were currently resting, their feet propped up on a stack of cushions and bottles of butterbeer in their hands. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”
“This is important, Ron,” Hermione shot back impatiently.
“Extremely important, but I think Ron’s got a point,” said Sirius, walking over to place his hand on her outstretched wand before she could try and cast the incantation again. “The power behind a good Patronus Charm lies in your emotions. You can’t cast it effectively if you’re stressing about getting it wrong.”
“It’s OWL year though,” Hermione protested. “I keep getting everything wrong!”
“Come and talk to me again once you’ve received Outstanding in all your OWLs,” Sirius said, in what he hoped was a consoling voice, conjuring two more bottles of butterbeer and handing one to Hermione.
“I wish,” she scoffed disagreeably, dragging her feet over to an old armchair and sitting down. “I’m sure I’ll fail everything.”
“Well, if you’re in danger of failing, then I don’t even want to think about my scores,” Harry cut in.
“Take my advice, not worrying about scores is the best way to go about fifth year,” said Sirius, sitting down in the chair opposite them and taking a long swig of butterbeer.
“That’s what Fred and George did,” Ron told him. “And they only got about three OWL’s each.”
“Well, here’s some advice from someone who managed to get an OWL in every subject besides History of Magic and who also managed to devote a considerable amount of time in his fifth year to becoming Animagi,” said Sirius with a small smile. “The first thing you should do is figure out what classes you want to drop next year so that you don’t waste valuable time studying for them. If you want to be a high achiever, reading through your class notes about once a week should be sufficient - actually, that goes for every subject. Concentrate on getting in as much practice for the practical components of your exams as you can - far easier to remember theory when you’re putting it to use . And only do enough homework to keep the teachers off your back. Stick to that method and you’ll be fine.”
“Cheers, Sirius,” Ron grinned. “I think I can live with that.”
“But I just really want to get the Patronus Charm right,” said Hermione, not to be distracted. “I want to know what form mine takes. You caught on so quickly, Harry.”
“I didn’t get it right the first few times either,” Harry said modestly. “Maybe you’re not using a powerful enough memory? Thinking about a perfect score on an OWL won’t cut it. Remembering the first time I rode a broomstick wasn’t good enough either.”
“I don’t know, a perfect score on all her exams does seem like the road to complete bliss for Hermione,” Ron chuckled.
“We’re all different,” said Sirius, “but you need a happiness that inspires you deep down in your core to successfully perform a Patronus Charm. That’s why the Death Eaters cannot produce them - they assume a hateful, aggressive mindset when fighting which is counter-productive. You need to find joy in your soul for something when it comes to such light and pure magic. It’s not easy - I only recently became capable of producing a Patronus again.”
Setting his butterbeer down and rising to his feet, Sirius withdrew his wand and pointed it into the air. He called out the incantation in a clear and strong voice while his heart swelled with what felt like all the love and longing in the world. Then a large german shepherd exploded from his wand and raced around him.
“Hello, old friend,” he greeted it softly.
“What memory did you use?” asked Ron bluntly.
Sirius looked away from his Patronus and it disappeared. “I was remembering the day Harry was born,” he told them, retaking his seat.
“You were there?” Harry asked.
“I rushed over as soon as James gave me the word,” Sirius replied. “I got there and your Dad came out of the room cradling you in his arms. He just handed you to me and then we both just sat there for the longest time together staring at you while your Mum got some sleep.”
Harry’s lips curved up in a smile but he looked sad at the same time. “I wish I had my own memories of them.”
“Well I’ve got plenty to share,” Sirius replied, reminded of how Snape had shown Harry a memory as it occurred to him that he might possibly do the same sometime. “Did I ever tell you lot about the time James and I had a run in with a pair of muggle policemen?”
“No way,” said Ron.
Sirius grinned, intentionally trying to raise the spirits in the room that had just suddenly taken quite a melancholy turn. “It was the summer after I ran away from home. James and I went out flying on my motorbike almost every night and didn’t get back until dawn - Harry’s Grandparents had no idea. Anyway, we were racing down this London street when these muggle police came up behind us, shouting, with their sirens blazing- we thought it was hilarious. We pulled over and gave them a bunch of cheeky answers before taking off into the sky. Those blokes are probably still out there somewhere scratching their head over what they saw that night. I’m sure we broke at least half the rules listed in the Statute of Secrecy.”
“You didn’t modify their memories?” asked Hermione in amazement, while Harry and Ron both laughed.
“No,” Sirius shook his head. “We didn’t think about it until we’d already gone. We were idiots, I know. At least when you lot decide to break the Ministry’s rules it’s for a good reason. Starting a group to teach yourselves and other students defensive magic is a much more noble pursuit than what James and I got up to at your age.”
“I don’t know,” said Ron doubtfully. “If you asked my Mum, she’d say we're a bunch of pretty big idiots.”
“Well don’t tell her what we were up to this weekend, or it’ll be all our necks on the line then,” said Sirius. “But be sure to tell her that I passed on her message because I don’t think she trusted me to.”
Molly Weasley had been, predictably, horrified to discover that they’d all been planning to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She said they’d be expelled for sure and their futures ruined. Molly had insisted that they were too young to be worrying about learning how to defend themselves right now, but Sirius believed it was better to be expelled and able to defend themselves than sitting safely in school without a clue. He’d been impressed to learn that Snape appeared to be on the same page as him when it came to this matter. Snape hadn’t encouraged them to continue on with their plans, but had implored them to be careful not to get caught if they did.
“I guess the biggest hurdle you still have to figure out is where to hold your meetings,” said Sirius. They had already rejected the Shrieking Shack as a possibility and the roomy secret passageway that had been a good hide out when he’d been in school had since caved in. “I’ll keep thinking and get back to you.”
He sent them upstairs a few minutes later to collect their things and tidy up the mess created by ricocheting spells. Sirius remained on the main level and began vanishing all the cushions that carpeted the floor while he waited for Snape to arrive. It was always a struggle to do his damndest to appear fine when it came time for him to be left alone again, but right now he was distracted by ideas that he’d need Snape’s help to employ. So he met him at the door as soon as he arrived and had already taken care to stun his mother’s portrait so her screaming couldn’t alert the others that he was here.
“Might we have a quick word before the kids come down?” Sirius asked, taking deliberate efforts to keep his tone cordial.
Snape’s black eyes narrowed instantly with a suspicion that Sirius was frankly getting tired of seeing whenever the two of them interacted. Having already waved a hypothetical white flag and admitted his wrongs for the sake of peace, he thought he was deserving of a little more reciprocation. He never said a word against Snape to Harry or really to anyone anymore. He went out of his way to be even friendly, though it seemed to make no difference.
“A quick word,” Snape said coolly.
Sirius led him into the Drawing Room and closed the door behind them for the sake of privacy. He knew that what he was about to say would probably not be well received, but he was going to say it anyway and hoped that Snape would surprise him. After all, Snape was the one behind setting up this weekend visit without any real obligation to do so. Dumbledore certainly didn't care about improving Sirius’s access to Harry.
“Harry doesn’t remember his parents,” he began. “Obviously he was only a baby when they died. Every memory of them shared with him is a gift - you realize that. You saw how much showing him that memory of Lily meant to him and there’s so much I can tell him about James.”
“Then tell him,” said Snape coolly, his eyes focused on the large grandfather clock with the swinging pendulum in the corner as though he were already late for some appointment.
“I felt like I was missing half my brain when I escaped from Azkaban,” Sirius pressed on.
“That’s to be expected,” said Snape, still not looking at him. “You were exposed to Dementors for years. It would take a lifetime to recover from trauma like that and you’re doing better than most.”
“We were talking about Patronus Charms just before you got here,” said Sirius. “More specifically, we were talking about the happy memories needed to do the spell properly. After twelve years in Azkaban with only my worst memories for company, I was unable to produce a Patronus. Even when happy ones started returning to me after I escaped, it was such a shock and they filled me with so much grief, that it took a lot of effort to hold onto one long enough to even say the Incantation. But I can handle them now.”
“Are you asking me to congratulate you?” Snape asked softly.
“No, I’m telling you this because I think I’ve got a decent hold on my memories now and I want to share them with Harry,” said Sirius. “Only I need your help.”
“My help?” Snape repeated, looking over at him and showing his first glimmer of interest in the conversation.
“Yes,” said Sirius. “I’m not a legilimens, like you, I can’t just show him what’s in my head. You can collect my memory though and I know Dumbledore has a pensieve.”
“Dumbledore’s pensieve? That’s not mine to take,” Snape replied. “Yes, I allowed Harry a brief glimpse into my memory one time, but that was only to compensate for me intruding into his.”
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself, then fine,” said Sirius. “That doesn’t change what it did for him or what I want to do for him now. He deserves to see his father, Severus - even just one memory. I don’t want to talk to Dumbledore.”
“But you want to talk to me?” said Snape slowly, and with suspicion.
“Yes,” said Sirius simply, and they stared at one another. “Please?”
It was as though he’d spoken the magic words. Severus raised his wand to conjure a glass flask from thin air that was the perfect size to store a captured memory. Then he moved over to stand directly in front of Sirius. The shorter of the two, Severus had to lift his arm to point the tip of his wand at the side of his head. They’d never been this close before and Sirius was suddenly struck by how truly profound such a display of trust between them was. Not only in himself allowing Severus Snape to point a wand at his head, but by the way Severus had taken him at his word and did not appear to be anticipating some kind of trick like he would have before.
“You have to concentrate really hard on the moment in time you want to show,” Severus explained softly. “Their faces - a line someone spoke. You don’t have to think about every single detail for me to capture the moment in time you intend. Your brain will gather all the relevant information to give me a copy of the full memory. Understand?”
“How will you know if you got the full thing?” asked Sirius.
“I’ll know if the connection doesn’t break prematurely,” Severus replied. “And it may hurt.”
“I can handle a little pain,” Sirius said, “or a lot.”
Severus twisted his wand in his hand and pressed it a little deeper into Sirius’s scalp. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Forget what you’re doing. Just go back to your memory.”
Sirius closed his eyes cooperatively. He hadn’t chosen a specific moment he wanted to bring forward yet. He’d just been concentrating on figuring out what to say to Snape that would persuade him to assist. He now allowed a picture of James Potter to fill his mind. James was laughing and Sirius was aware of his lips curving up into a smile of their own while he watched him.
“Do you have it?” Sirius was aware of Severus asking him from what felt like a great distance.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
“Think of the season,” Severus advised softly. “Are you hot or cold? Is it night or day? What are you doing? How does it make you feel?”
Sirius felt a single tear escape from beneath his closed eyelids and slide down his cheek. It was warm and they were outside. James was flying like he loved to do and talking about Harry. James had loved Harry so entirely. A boy couldn’t have asked for a better father. And then there was Lily, her belly swollen with the child that had been so wanted and so beloved before he was even born. Her red hair was long and hanging down her back, her skin was glowing, and her face was plump and cheerful.
And then Sirius felt his head suddenly explode with a pain that blinded him to his recollections and forced him abruptly back into the present. He opened his eyes to see Severus watching him intently. He had pulled his wand away from the side of Sirius’s head and there was a bright, whitish silver, cloud-like string attached to the end of it.
“What’s going on?” the door to the Drawing Room had been abruptly thrown open and both men turned to observe Harry standing there, looking at them with suspicion and alarm. “What’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” Sirius said at once, backing away from Severus.
“Are you sure?” demanded Harry. “I thought -”
But Sirius didn’t need Harry to tell him what he’d thought or why he had come bursting through a door that had been closed for a reason. Harry had likely come downstairs and instantly assumed some sort of ugly confrontation was taking place when he discovered that he and Snape were alone together.
“Professor Snape was just helping me with something,” Sirius explained gently. “Something for you, actually.”
“A memory?” said Harry, stepping closer into the room and eyeing the flask in Snape’s hand.
“Here,” Severus handed it to Harry.
“Do you think you got the whole thing?” Sirius asked him. “I wasn’t sure if I was focusing on the right things.”
“I got the whole thing,” Severus replied confidently. “A skilled Legilimens can recover even the most repressed thoughts and you made it easy for me by bringing most of it up to the surface.”
“Well, thank you,” Sirius said, quietly, but sincerely.
Severus nodded but said nothing, so Sirius turned back to Harry who was busy examining the swirling, neither liquid nor gas, contents of the flask as though he could get answers from it that way.
“I thought it would mean more to really get to see them,” Sirius explained, watching a look of wonder cross Harry’s face. “It’s a memory of your Mum and Dad. You should have one of your own.”