Another delightful weekend after my first Black Arts class since Christmas—

At least that's the case for most of the students.

Although Hogwarts courses have become more and more interesting under Tierra's continuous education reforms, students are students after all, especially this group of eleven, two, three, four, five, six, seven-year-old kid in adolescence Head, after all, not everyone is Hermione, and not everyone can spend weekends, or even the entire Christmas holiday, studying like Hermione.

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

It wasn't such a happy weekend for Harry though—

"Stand up, Potter!" Snape said sternly.

On the first Saturday night after Christmas, Harry was kneeling on the floor of Snape's office again, trying to clear his mind.

He'd just been forced to relive another string of childhood memories he didn't know he still had stored up, mostly the humiliation Dudley's gang had given him in elementary school.

"What's the last memory?" Snape walked over slowly and asked.

"I, I don't know..." said Harry, standing up wearily, finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish between the sights and sounds Snape kept eliciting, "my cousin wanted me to stand 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 met Harry's like drills. Harry remembered that eye contact was crucial to Legilimency, and he blinked and looked away.

"How did the man and the asking room get into your head, Potter?" said Snape.

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

"A dream?" Snape said.

There was a moment of silence as Harry stared at a dead frog soaked in purple liquid.

"Do you know what we're doing here, Potter?" Snape whispered menacingly. "Do you know why I give up my relaxing evenings to do this nasty job?"

"Yes." 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.

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

— Harry glared back at Snape, looking at him with hatred —

"I thought you should have made some progress after two months of class. How many dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just this one," Harry lied.

"Perhaps," Snape's cold black eyes narrowed, "perhaps you enjoy having these hallucinations and strange dreams, Potter. Perhaps they make you feel special—important?"

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

"That's good, Potter," said Snape coldly, "because you're neither special nor important, and it's not up to you to figure out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

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

He didn't intend to say that, but blurted out 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," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "that's my job. Now, are you ready, shall we come again??"

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

A hundred dementors were coming at Harry from the lake...his face contorted with tension...they were getting closer...he saw the The black hole...but at the same time he saw Snape standing in front of him, staring into his face, muttering... For some reason, Snape became clearer and the dementors faded ...Harry raised his wand—

"Armor protection!"

Snape staggered, his wand flew up, away from Harry—

Suddenly Harry's mind was filled with strange memories—

A hook-nosed man yells at a cowering woman, a dark-haired young boy cries in the corner... a greasy-haired teenager sits alone in a dark bedroom, shooting at the ceiling with his wand Flies... a scrawny boy trying to ride a jumping broom while a girl laughing at him—

"Enough!\', Harry felt a **** in the chest, and he staggered back a few steps, hitting a shelf by the wall, and something shattered.

Snape was trembling slightly, his face pale.

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

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

"Ah, Potter... that's an improvement." Snape gasped slightly, and straightened the Pensieve, as if checking to see if the thoughts he had stored before class were still there. "I don't recall telling you to use the Iron Armor Charm... but it certainly works..."

Harry didn't speak, he felt that saying anything was dangerous. He knew that he just broke into Snape's memory and saw Snape's childhood.

It made Harry uncomfortable, thinking that the little boy who had watched his parents fight and cried was standing in front of him right now, with such intense hatred in his eyes.

"How about one more time?" Snape said viciously.

Harry felt a twinge of fear, as he guessed that he would have to pay for what had just happened.

The two of them stood across the table, and Harry found it much more difficult to clear his mind this time.

"On the count of three," said Snape, raising his wand again, "One—two—"

Before Harry had time to concentrate and clear his mind, Snape had yelled, "Legiliency!"

He seems to have returned to the scene of the Ministry of Magic war that night, he rushed down the narrow corridor of the Department of Mysteries, stone walls and torches passed by on both sides-

They finally got rid of the Death Eaters chasing after 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 Hogwarts through the Floo network. Here we go, but—

A figure was standing next to the magic fountain. The figure was tall and thin, wearing a black mask, with a pale and emaciated snake-like face, and scarlet eyes with pupils like slits staring at him.

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

 …

"Potter!"

Harry opened his eyes, and he was lying on the ground again, but couldn't remember how he fell. He panted heavily, as if he had really run for that long.

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

"I... don't know what's going on~lightnovelpub.net~ Harry said honestly, standing up, a bump on the back of his head, he felt as if he had a little fever.

"You haven't tried hard enough!"

For some reason, Snape seemed angrier than when Harry had seen his own memory two minutes earlier.

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

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

Snape opened his mouth, and saw that the snarl was about to come out—

"Knock knock—"

But a regular knock on the door interrupted Snape's about-to-back angry roar.

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