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If only he knew.
His lip had curled, but for once, it was not out of enjoyment at Potter's expense.
Only Potter didn't know that, and Potter couldn't know that. Potter would never know that.
When Dumbledore had suggested this ridiculous venture, Severus agreed only because of his promise fourteen years earlier: to protect the boy no matter what, against Voldemort. Back then, he had not believed Dumbledore when the headmaster informed him that Voldemort would return and Lily's son would be in grave danger when that happened. It was eerie, how Dumbledore could make such educated guesses about the future. Far better than Trelawney, at any rate.
Which led them to why they were now practicing Occlumency.
What Dumbledore hadn't mentioned was what Severus was likely to see when he entered Potter's mind. Severus hadn't much thought about it himself, even. He had been more concerned with the possibility of Potter breaking through his defenses and seeing some old memory of Lily, of guessing the truth, that he hadn't considered what he might find beyond Potter's paltry defenses.
And it had been heartbreaking.
Angering.
He should have known, and he didn't guess, which infuriated him even more. When the boy appeared at Hogwarts five years earlier, he had been underfed and skinny – unmistakable signs of Petunia's negligence. Now, Severus was seeing real proof of that negligence: memories of what the boy had experienced living with a bitch who was so completely antagonistic of magic that she literally did not care about her nephew. It made Severus remember his own childhood: how unhappy he had been, how much he loathed his own father, how neglected and abused he'd been, how much he wished he had grown up like a normal child. How he wished he'd grown up like Lily. Hell, Harry Potter didn't even have the benefit of a friend like Lily – Harry had grown up completely alone, overshadowed (literally) by Petunia's overweight buffoon of a son who was given new toys while Potter received nothing.
But it hadn't been Dudley's red bicycle that made Severus's lip curl in fury.
It had been that damned dog.
What infuriated him so much was that Petunia had actually allowed her husband's sister's dog to chase Lily's son up a tree simply for the entertainment factor. That she stood by and watched as Harry frantically scrambled up the tree, that she laughed alongside her husband, son, and sister-in-law because she thought it was funny. That Lily would have never done that had the situation been reversed. And because Harry didn't have Lily, he had no one to protect him from that kind of abuse – much like Severus had felt during his childhood. No one had protected him, either. It made him want to find Petunia and give her a taste of her own fucking medicine…
He took a slow breath as he stared into the Pensieve. Slowly, he mastered the anger, rose from his seat, and headed for Dumbledore's office. Regardless of anything else, he had a duty to inform Dumbledore of the fact that Potter was far too familiar with the Department of Mysteries than he ought to be, and if he went into Dumbledore's office in anger, Albus would know something was wrong.
Dumbledore was waiting for him, his desk scattered with paperwork and those ridiculous educational degrees Umbridge kept pushing through. He glanced up and watched intently as Snape entered and closed the door behind him, taking rather longer than then he normally would have.
"Well?"
"For a first attempt, it could have been worse," Snape said stiffly, crossing to sit in the chair opposite the headmaster.
Dumbledore nodded. "Did he break your defenses?"
Snape's lip curled again. "No. But I did not expect him too."
"And yet, you still requested the Pensieve to store some of your memories," Dumbledore responded, his lip quirking slightly in amusement.
Snape flushed, but did not answer.
"But never mind that," Dumbledore went on, growing serious again. "You have other news, I can tell. I do hope you hide your emotions and concerns better when you're around Lord Voldemort, Severus."
"Of course, I do," he spat. "You know I do!" Damn it, how did this man see through him so easily?
"I'm exceedingly glad to hear that."
He was not in a mood to banter aimlessly with Dumbledore, so he got to the point. "Potter has been dreaming about the door that leads to the Department of Mysteries."
Dumbledore looked up abruptly, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "What?"
"The door that leads to the Department of Mysteries. Large, black, down on level nine – "
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, waving his hand impatiently. "I know which door. What do you mean he's been dreaming – ?"
"That door was one of the memories I accessed. Apparently, he saw it when Arthur took him down to the expulsion hearing back in August. But Potter's been dreaming about it ever since. When I saw it in his head, he yelled out that he suddenly knew what it was, and he asked me what was in the Department of Mysteries."
Dumbledore rose from his seat and began to pace through his office, clearly agitated.
Severus went on, "I told him there was nothing to concern him there and left it at that. He knows better than to press me for too much information, but he's still too nosy for his own good. He'll find some other way of discovering the information, mark my words."
"In all honestly, anyone would be curious if it were happening to them," Dumbledore conceded. "But it is disconcerting that he is dreaming about the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort is going to realize this soon enough, and I dread what he would do to make Harry think he needs to visit that place. This makes it even more imperative that Harry learn Occlumency – he must be able to shut his mind to Voldemort, to prevent Voldemort from entering and planting false memories and events…"
"I'm meeting with him again on Wednesday night, sir. Hopefully he'll make progress." He didn't tell Dumbledore that he wasn't hopeful at all; Potter's abilities were mediocre, at best.
Dumbledore nodded distantly, and then said, "Very well. And now, are you going to explain why you are so angry?"
Severus felt his face heat with annoyance. "What makes you think I am angry? I just spent an hour with Potter's arrogant son – "
"That isn't what I mean. Something else has angered you."
Sometimes it was best to humor Dumbledore instead of pretending otherwise, and it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it coming. So, rather abruptly, Severus snapped, "Petunia. That's what's angered me, damn it! How could you have left him with her? The way she's treated him throughout his life, as though he's nothing more than a servant, as if he's nothing more than a toy for her sister-in-law's bulldog to chase about the yard and up trees! All the toys he had to watch his fat, lazy, Neanderthal of a cousin receive while he gets nothing in return, while he's treated like dirt!" He rose from his seat and began to pace through the room, raking his hands through his hair in irritation and frustration. "Why the hell did you have to leave him there with her?"
Dumbledore was silent for a moment before he sighed heavily. "It is imperative that Harry be afforded sanctuary with Lily's blood at least once a year – "
"Why? Why is that so important? She hates the boy – "
"Much like you do?" Dumbledore arched his eyebrows.
Severus flushed again. "That is entirely different."
"Is it? You were jealous of James. Petunia was jealous of Lily. But she and Harry are connected by blood, and blood is a crucial component of this issue that Voldemort fails to understand. He cannot harm Harry while he is protected by Lily's blood, and Petunia did give him sanctuary – even if it was reluctant and even if she has not treated Harry well. But you knew she wouldn't treat him well fourteen years ago, so I find it surprising that the memories you saw affected you so deeply tonight. Do you care for Harry more than you used to, Severus?"
"No, but I do care about her memory," he snapped. "Lily would be horrified by all of this! She would be infuriated!"
"Yes, I suspect she would be. But that is neither here nor there, considering she is dead – "
"Enough." Severus felt his fists curl at his sides in anger. "I know you won't give me any satisfactory answers to this, so it's useless for us to discuss it. I will prepare myself better on Wednesday. I won't trouble you with this again."
Without looking at Dumbledore, he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Petunia had best be damned grateful for Dumbledore, he thought savagely – otherwise, he would be at Number Four right now, giving her a taste of her own medicine.