"A pen-what?"
"Pensieve. A magical device used to store memories for later reflection."
"Well, why don't I put my memory directly into that then? Instead of having you take it out of my mind first?"
"Because the pensieve belongs to the Headmaster, and he has not given me its loan."
"Oh."
"Indeed." Snape paused again, then raised his wand and aimed it at Harry. "Let us begin. Keep your eyes open, as you did last night, and do try not to fight me, if you would. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. I'll try not to fight," Harry promised.
"Good. Legilimens."
Images flew by, first of Quidditch tryouts, and then Teddy and him in the library with the box of candy, and then, disconcertingly, a memory of being up a tree with Ripper far below and snarling, as Aunt Marge cheered the dog on and Dudley laughed, practically rolling on the ground.
That wasn't the right memory! Snape had no right to see that!
Harry pushed against the presence in his mind, and it receded a little, but the image was replaced a moment later with one of his cupboard, locked from the outside – he could tell from the angle of the door; it always hung crooked when locked, as Uncle Vernon had made a mess of installing the bolt – and himself curled up on his cot and reading a purloined comic that Dudley had torn in half and thrown away before Harry rescued it, and then the door shook, and Harry stuffed the pieces of the comic under his cot before Uncle Vernon's purpling face appeared in the frame of the small door, spittle flying from his mouth while he yelled, even before he caught sight of the corner of the thin book—
NO! Not that one! Harry pushed that memory away, too. What did Snape think he was doing?
Obviously he was going to have to show him the right memory, or Snape would keep ransacking his mind. So Harry called up the attack in the corridor, recalling everything he could in infinite detail, and shoved that right at the presence in his mind, so clear it couldn't be missed. Then, for good measure, he shoved the professor right out of his mind, too; his private thoughts were private!
The next moment, he opened his eyes, to find he'd fallen off the chair and was on his hands and knees, panting for breath. Sweat covered his skin and his robes clung damply to him. His head pounded, and he wanted more than anything else to bite Snape's throat out with his teeth. The Professor stood over him, his dark eyes glittering with some unnamed emotion, and for a second, Harry thought it might be fear.
But then Snape's face went blank, as did his eyes. Though he held out a hand for Harry to take, Harry disdained it, getting to his feet on his own. His stomach lurched, but he kept his balance through sheer force of will.
Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, well, Potter. It seems you are full of surprises."
"You. Stay. Out. Of my. Head!"
With a gesture at the chair Harry had fallen out of, Snape merely said, "Sit down. You and I have much to discuss."
"I'm not talking to you!" Harry growled. "You had no right—"
"Stop with the melodrama, Potter. I had every right to seek answers to your current dilemma. And you gave me explicit permission to do so."
"What about those other things, huh? You didn't have the right to see those!"
Snape pursed his lips. "I was also seeking information about your situation at home. As your Head of House—"
"Bollocks! You didn't ask to see that!"
The Potions Master drew himself up and glowered down with such ferocity that Harry was hard pressed not to flinch away when he spat, "No. I did not. But I will brook no more of your disrespect. Now sit down!"
Harry sat.
"Now . . . you will tell me when exactly you discovered you could speak to snakes."
TBC . . .
A/N:
The next chapter will be an unveiling of many mysteries, and we'll have the long awaited trip to see the Dursleys. Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful reviews. I should have the next chapter out by the weekend.
*Chapter 18*: Chapter 18
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 18
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
Previously on Better Be Slytherin!:
The Potions Master drew himself up and glowered down with such ferocity that Harry was hard pressed not to flinch away when he spat, "No. I did not. But I will brook no more of your disrespect. Now sit down!"
Harry sat.
"Now . . . you will tell me when exactly you discovered you could speak to snakes."
Trying to rein in his temper, Severus waited for the Brat to speak. His rage had a tendency to flare when something truly frightened him, though he would not admit to actually being frightened by the Brat. No, of course not. But it was rather . . . disconcerting to find that not only had the Boy Who Had Too Many Surprises Lurking Beneath His Scrawny, Tousled Exterior noticed what memories Severus was riffling through, but had then been able to expel him – a practiced and talented Legilimens – from his mind! Cheeky Brat! Severus should have been able to access those memories with no one the wiser, especially not the boy. He could have done it in his sleep! That he hadn't gotten away with it was almost more troubling than the memories themselves.
But it was worse than that. If the Brat had a natural talent at blocking his mind and shifting his memories around like he had done – as if he were playing Severus for the fool! – that was one thing. However, coupled with the Parseltongue Severus had heard spoken in the memory, which the Brat said only sounded like sibilant English to him, it was something else entirely. If he was somehow accessing two uncommon powers of the Dark Lord's . . . Well. It didn't bear thinking about. Not at this very moment, at least. Perhaps later. When he could get good and stinking drunk.
And the very worst of all . . . Severus had recognized the commanding voice that spoke Parseltongue in the boy's memory. Shivers, which he hoped were well masked as quivering rage, went up and down his spine. He was not ready for this!
Right now, though, he had a chairful of angry Savior of the Wizarding World, whose glare matched Severus' favorite one, almost perfectly. So he schooled his face to an expectant expression and lifted his eyebrows, to show the Brat that he was waiting. Patiently.
"I didn't know I was, sir," the boy grated out. "I told you, it just sounded like English, but like the person had a mouthful of sand or something."
"Have you spoken to snakes before?"
Potter considered, and Severus could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he decided whether or not to answer honestly. "Once. At the zoo."
Severus sneered. Horrible Muggle invention, the zoo, where brainless idiots threw food at monkeys, only to have it thrown back. Often with interest. "Well, Potter? What happened?"
"I was at the zoo. I talked to a snake. Then the glass disappeared and the snake got out."
With a frown Severus wondered, Accidental magic, too? He studied the boy in front of him. He was hiding something. "What else?"
Potter set his jaw. His eyes were twin emerald fires, challenging him, daring Severus to descend upon him like a wrathful god. "Nothing that concerns you."