Dark Magic

The Worst Memory

The following day, I discovered Harry had been gifted a Firebolt Quidditch broom from an anonymous provider. To say that I was jealous was an understatement. But I was overjoyed with the gift from Remus Lupin, along with the promise that I would be going to live with him at the end of term, so long as the Wolfsbane administered by Professor Snape worked to its fullest extent.

My jealousy was short-lived, however, when Hermione decided to snitch on the broom to Professor McGonagall. The Gryffindor head of house confiscated the broom from Harry immediately, warranting a wedge between the trio for the foreseeable future.

On January 2nd, the rest of the students headed back to Hogwarts, instantly making the school feel smaller and more crammed than before. I felt excited at the prospect of a new year; but still apprehensive at what may await us in the coming months.

We began the term with new studies; Salamanders with Hagrid, Palm readings with Professor Trelawny, learning about Antidotes to common poisons with Snape, Banishing charms with Flitwick (which I had mastered in my first year), and how to transfer an owl into Opera Glasses with McGonagall. The first day was so exhausting, I could hardly wait for my first lesson of the new term with Snape, on the following Saturday.

I dressed as casually as possible, making a mental note to go shopping with Remus in the next school holidays, for my clothes were getting too small, again. I knew I was growing up, as much as it pained me to admit. Tying my hair away into a bun, I grabbed my dad's backpack and headed for the Room of Requirement. I was late! Shoot! My walking pace soon turned into a sprint, bursting through the doors to the secret room.

Snape stood at the other end, turning impatiently to meet my eyes, "You're late." He spat, unimpressed. I gasped for breath, "Sorry, I didn't realise what-"

"-Oh nevermind! Did you revise the Art of Occlumency?" The man asked, cutting my explanation short. I nodded, taking the book from my backpack and handing it to him. Without blinking, he tossed it aside and readied his wand.

"Legillimens!" I felt the world dissolve around me, flashes and images forcing their way into my mind that all surmised parts of my life; they were memories. My memories. Every memory I could think of being drained from my mind and exposed for Snape's picking. He filtered through each one like they were a filing cabinet, a scene playing through my mind like that of my mother and Severus in the meadow, when they were young...

Snape latched onto his chosen memory, and I watched as it played through my mind from a bird's-eye view; I saw the morning unfold as it had, the day Harry and I fought the Basilisk. Dumbledore chastising us in his office, his promise of my potential power...Snape bursting into the room with that panicked look in his eyes. Dumbledore leaving us alone and him flying across the headmaster's desk and pulling me into his embrace...

He then flitted back to the days I spent alone, in the orphanage. The days I spent in solitude, crying in my room as the other children excluded me, alienating me from the world entirely. The earliest memory I had when I was five years old flashed across my mind. Sitting in a house on the floor, watching as my foster parents screamed and shouted amongst themselves, over none other than the child they were supposed to be taking care of.

I watched as the young child, hardly past a toddler's age, walked towards a tiny cupboard under the stairs, locking herself inside. The screams grew louder and louder, causing the young girl to cover her ears and close her eyes. Those shouts turned to violent thumps, causing the walls around her to move. The child reached the brink of breaking before a blood-curdling scream emitted from her; the cupboard door that once protected her now weaponized, bursting from its hinges and flying towards the arguing couple, knocking the both of them to the floor with an immense force. 

They laid on the floor, each of them sharing a small scrape on the side of their heads from the trauma as they stared at the tiny child. Sharing a horrified glance, the memory faded to a few hours later, as the husband and wife left the child on the doorstep of an Orphanage in London. It was raining...And they did not even ring the doorbell as to alert the orphanage of the child's presence. She was too small to reach the doorbell and alert them of her presence, and it was hours before anyone knew she had been returned to them, once again...

"STOP!" I cried out, forcing the memory and Snape from my mind. The tears were streaming down my cheeks at the memory-the worst memory I could remember having...Snape looked as though he could cry himself, his bloodshot eyes posing the threat of tears to fall. "I'm sorry."

My lip quivered at his words, as I took my own wand from my pocket and pointed it towards him, "Legilimens." I sobbed, regretting the words I spoke the moment the spell emitted from my wand and onto my Professor. He did not have time to deflect the spell, as much as I momentarily hoped he would. 

Dragged into his mind, it went to that of only one memory, that he must have been thinking of in comparison of my own...

I watched a man in his early twenties as he stood outside an abandoned house, nearly in ruins; lifeless. He stalked towards the front gate, swinging open for him to etch closer to the old building. Only, it wasn't old. It had only been lived in less than an hour before this memory, for the feeling of life lingered inside.

I followed him, watching over his shoulder as he stepped through the front door, making his way up the stairs of the cottage. Atop the steps, there was a man; distorted and lifeless on the ground that I could only compare to my brother; perhaps ten years from now. But it wasn't my brother; no. Because this was a memory. It was my father...James Potter.

The young Severus Snape hardly pondered the man's death, instead heading towards a room on the opposing end of the hallway; a baby's cry sounding from inside. Lightning struck, causing streams of water to filter through the small cracks in the, now, broken ceiling. As a young Snape's hand pressed against the door, it came to a short halt from something on the other side, partially blocking his entrance. 

Entering the room before him, I found an almost identical woman to myself laying on the ground, devoid of life. And as Severus' gaze lied on her, his knees gave way and he fell to the floor with an almighty thud, bursting into tears. He crawled towards the woman's body-my mother's body-cradling her in his arms. A strangled wail emitted from the man in agony, as he wept over my mother's body, the baby beside him crying as a small, barely noticeable lightening cut had etched its way onto his forehead...

"We're even."

I gasped for breath, being plunged from the memory as I stood opposite my Potion's Master; standing opposite me as his own tears cascaded down his porcelain cheeks. He had intentionally allowed me to see into his mind....He wanted me to see his memory. Perhaps, his worst memory...To make me feel better about my own...And to even the playing field...

I nodded, wiping my tear away with a swift swipe, "Yes, indeed, Professor. Now, we're even."