Snape, in the midst of lesson-planning, was surprised to feel his Dark Mark tingle with the magic of the blood bond.
The Dark Lord lives? He’s managed to regain his strength so soon? Should I tell Dumbledore?
Before he could ponder some more, the Dark Mark stung like he was bitten by particularly nasty Kappa. Gripping his marked arm tightly, he Floo’d to Knockturn Alley.
Upon his arrival to the gloomy interior of Haphrentus’s Shoppe of Those Moste Cursed, Snape tipped his head in greeting to Haphrentus himself before immediately Apparating through his Dark Mark. Sure, he could’ve just done that from the beginning but then Dumbledore would be alerted to his departure, and right now Snape wasn’t sure he wanted the Headmaster to know about the Dark Lord’s speedy recovery.
After all, he was still a spy for both teams.
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“Ugh,” a young black-haired boy groaned into his pillow. “Why is this spell so hard?!”
Poor Harry had been attempting to cast the Memory Extractor charm, under the advice of the mindhealer he’d managed to connect with via Theodore Nott, for the past hour to no avail. Every time he thought he’d done it, the silvery thread that was his chosen memory would snap like old thread and disintegrate into nothing before his very eyes. It was infuriating!
Of course, the mindhealer had warned him not to be discouraged if he didn’t manage to successfully extract a memory for them to work with, but Harry was sure that he could manage with all the improvement he’d shown during Jin-Woo’s lessons! He’d been able to cast a Third Year spells with only some difficulty; just how advanced was this spell for him to be unable to cast it after so many failed attempts?
As tempted as he was to ask for help, say from Hermione or the twins, he was also a bit apprehensive. Not only was this a bit private, what with it being his therapy homework and all, but what would he say should they ask which memory he picked? After all, he trusted his friends, but memories were intimate, extremely so, and Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about other people seeing such raw, unfiltered parts of himself and his miserable life before coming to Hogwarts.
“One more go. One more go, and if I can’t successfully extract a memory on my own I’ll ask for some tips and advice from my friends,” he mumbled to himself resolutely.
Harry, more determined than ever to succeed this time, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying his hardest to visualise the memory he wanted to extract.
The sights, the sounds, the smells, the things he could feel in that moment both physically and emotionally, he tried to remanifest them with his senses with his eyes closed. Every cricket chirp, every tiny vibration he felt through his feet planted in the dirt, the feeling of his body moving as he breathed… he remembered how calm he felt. The freedom of being at peace. Harry could practically taste the cool breezy air, tainted with the essence of summer sun and fresh, vibrant, life-filled leaves.
It was the first time his aunt had left him alone to tend to her flowers in the backyard the year Dudley went on a trip with one of his friends for two weeks. Harry had relished every second he spent alone that he could hoard to himself. There was no Vernon waiting to beat him within an inch of his life for simply sneezing wrong, there was no Dudley to bother him in the midst of his chores, there was no Petunia hovering near the doorway reading to berate him for slacking off in the shade whenever he stopped watering, pruning and weeding her flower beds for longer than a minute. It was a full ten minutes of pure, unadulterated peace and calm.
YOU ARE READING
stop pissing me off (i can play god and cut off your oxygen)
Fanfiction"oh, so just because i'm a necromancer and in slytherin, i'm an evil dark wizard? must've missed the memo." slytherin!jin-woo au where he's literally just trying to keep to himself and find a way home while everyone is convinced he's a new dark lord...
