Siriusly Drunk About Girls

Chapter 3

January 13, 1996, Hogwarts

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Harry stood in front of the dungeon door for longer than he knew was sensible. For one, anyone could see him down here. For another, Snape would not be in a good mood at all if Harry was late, not that he was ever in a good mood.

Finally, Harry summoned up the courage that he seemed to be famous for and knocked.

"Come."

Cautiously, Harry opened the door, stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The potions classroom looked the same as it always did any other time that Harry had been there for detention: the desks were bare and the stools were pushed in; all the spare cauldrons and ingredients were absent, obviously in their respective cupboards.

The only difference was Snape himself. Ordinarily, the professor was sitting at his desk, a quill in hand, the tip of it blood red, as he marked homework. This time he was standing in front of his desk, a large, familiar, shallow bowl sitting upon it. But it was what Snape was doing with his wand that had Harry stopping dead and staring.

As Harry watched, Snape placed the tip of his wand to his own temple before it glowed silver. Then, as he pulled it away, a long strand of silver light stretched from Snape's wand to his temple before, with a snap that Harry knew that he only imagined, the strand came free. The wand was then manoeuvred over the bowl before the silver strand was dropped in.

"You were almost late," Snape accused. "Next time, do not dawdle in front of my classroom."

Harry ignored the admonishment but did file away the information that Snape monitored the corridor.

"Professor, what are you doing?" he asked.

"This is a penseive," Snape replied. "I understand that you are familiar with it."

Harry nodded and Snape continued.

"I am placing certain memories of mine in it for safekeeping. The mind arts are very precise; you, however, are not. I don't want you accidentally seeing some of my private memories."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't want Harry to see his memories! But it was okay for it to be the other way around? At least, that is if he understood what was to happen here correctly. That simply did not see fair. Not that Harry's life had ever been fair.

"Place your bag over there," Snape instructed, "and then stand in the centre of the room."

Quickly, Harry complied.

"Did your godfather tell you what to expect here?" Snape asked.

Harry frowned and responded as Sirius had instructed. "Only the basics. That you'd most likely be trying to get inside my mind using legilimency as a way to help me understand what it felt like and to teach me how to stop other people from doing it."

"A simple but accurate definition," Snape allowed. "Were you informed what you have to do here?"

In fact, Harry had been. Sirius had managed to give him one single lesson. It was all that they'd been able to manage considering when the concept of these lessons had been dropped on them. The fact that that discussion and lesson had been in the dead of night when both of them were dead tired had meant that very little progress had been made. Still, Harry knew the basics and Sirius had promised to find a book about the subject, even if that meant he had to order it in from overseas – something about the Ministry of Magic banning such knowledge nearly a century ago and driving the practices into becoming mostly family secrets.