Heart of Gold

Snape's Memories

~Tessa's POV~

We sat in Occlumency once again. I sighed. These lessons were becoming more and more boring.

"You two desperately need to focus. Or you'll-" Snape started.

"Suffer a worse fate than private lessons. We get it" Harry and I said together

Snape was about to say something when the door opened.

We looked at the door to see the last person I wanted to see.

Draco Malfoy.

"Professor Snape sir- oh... Sorry" Draco said, looking at Harry then he looked at me. His eyes immediately showed sadness. But I couldn't look at him.

"It's alright Draco." Snape said, lowering his wand, "The Potters are just here for a little Remedial Potions"

What? I don't need that. I'm fantastic at potions I thought

"I didn't know" Draco said, staring at me. I avoided his eyes.

"Well Draco. What is it?" Snape asked.

"It's Professor Umbridge sir, she needs your help" Draco said, "They've found Montague sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor"

"How did he get in there?" Snape demanded.

"I don't know sir, he's a bit confused"

"Very well, very well- Potter." Snape said, looking at us both, "we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead"

He turned and led Draco from his office.

"Well that was embarrassing" Harry said, standing up.

I nodded and stood.

"Let's go before Malfoy sends the school to gawk at the private potions lesson" Harry said, rolling his eyes.

I nodded and went to follow him but then I saw a patch of silver light. I looked at Harry, who was looking at it too.

We both looked at Snape's desk. On top of it sat a Pensieve. It held Snape's memories.

What was so important that Snape didn't want us to see?

I could tell Harry was thinking the same when we both wandered over to it.

I looked at Harry.

"It may take a while. Getting Montague out of the toilet" he said.

I nodded.

We both leaned over the Pensieve. As we did, the silvery mist began to swirl and before we knew it. The room changed and we were... In the Great Hall?

I looked at Harry and he shrugged.

We looked around. The four house tables were gone and replaced with a hundred smaller tables.

I looked at the students. Surely Snape was here somewhere. This was his memory...

And there he was. Harry and I stared.

Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping onto the table. His hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the table and he scribbled.

I looked at the paper.

Defense Against the Dark Arts--
Ordinary Wizarding Levels

So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around mine and Harry's age.

His hand was flying across the paper. He had written at least a foot longer than any of his neighbors.