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Harry was hunched over panting, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Snape had made him relive a particularly set of brutal memories from the Dursleys, some featuring Harry locked in his cupboard while Uncle Vernon cursed at him, some of Dudley lying about ‘freaky’ things Harry did so Harry would get the belt, or not get fed, or some other cruel punishment. In the last memory, Harry was sitting quietly watching Dudley on Christmas morning open present after present and shove them up to Harry’s face only to snatch them quickly back saying, “These are all mine! Freaks like you don’t get Christmas presents do they Mum?”
Dudley looked to his mother for approval. “No, of course they don’t Diddykins,” Petunia echoed her son, while looking scornfully at Harry.
Reliving that memory felt like a sharp stab to his heart, all those childish emotions of love and longing, and hurt and sadness being thrust back into Harry’s head after he tried so hard to squash them down.
Harry looked up at Snape to see if the Potions Master was at all affected by what he had just seen in Harry’s mind, but he was only looking curiously down his nose at Harry as he ran a finger over his top lip.
“Let’s end there, Potter,” Snape said sharply. “I should hope you will put more effort into practicing keeping me out of your mind before our next lesson.”
Snape turned away from Harry to go back to his desk, expecting Harry to let himself out.
Still panting faintly, Harry didn’t get up from his chair even though he had just been dismissed.
“Why don’t you ever ask me about what you see in my head?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.
Snape turned around and looked at Harry with an odd expression of surprise Harry had never seen on him before.
Harry was truly dying to know. Week after week, lesson after lesson, Snape snooped and pried into Harry’s head and became privy to the secret Muggle life Harry Potter lived before he came to Hogwarts. Snape had seen on multiple instances just how awful Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were, how Dudley had mercilessly bullied him for years, and how Harry had no one to stick up for him. Yet Snape watched it all wordlessly, his only constant critique was that Harry should’ve been trying harder to keep him out of his mind in the first place.
“You’ve been seeing inside my head for weeks now,” Harry said quietly. “Why haven’t you told Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall about my aunt and uncle?”
Snape froze.
“What on Earth are you referring to?” Snape questioned.
“You know…” Harry started tentatively. “What they did to me. Hitting me, and bullying me, and not giving me proper meals and stuff.” Harry shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
Harry continued, “Since coming to Hogwarts and meeting other wizard families, and like, um, being at Ron’s house, I’ve seen that other kids aren’t treated the way I was by their families.” Harry looked down at his shoes.
Snape inhaled suddenly as he realized where Harry was going. “You want to know why I haven’t reported your aunt and uncle after seeing how poorly they treat you.”
Harry looked up and nodded sadly before he realized half a second later who he was talking to and stated, “Yeah- uh yes sir.”
Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back against his desk.
“Your first year I - along with Professor McGonnagal and a few other teachers - noticed right away how skinny you were and how woefully unprepared you were for Hogwarts, a rare sight as most students are eager to learn everything they can about the school before they step foot on the train.”
Harry nodded, thinking back to his first year when Hermione was constantly spurting facts fresh out of Hogwarts: A History that she had seemingly memorized before their first day. Harry meanwhile was forbidden to read any of his wizarding textbooks at home, and only got to look at them once he was in the Gryffindor dormitory.
Snape continued, “The other teachers and I brought our concerns to Headmaster Dumbledore who assured us that you were exactly where you needed to be at your aunt and uncle’s, and that Muggles who raise magic children can sometimes have some issues accepting it, which is what he insinuated about your relatives.”
Harry scoffed, wanting to interrupt, but Snape held up a warning hand and shot Harry a look; he was not done.
“So that was that and when you returned to Hogwarts the next few years alive in one piece after spending the majority of the summer with your relatives, Dumbledore was convinced it was all a big misunderstanding and that your relatives were just typical Muggles, albeit Muggles with a strong distaste for magic.”
There was a moment of silence where Snape waited to see if Harry was following.
“So Professor Dumbledore knew,” Harry started slowly, the wheels in his head turning as his anger starts to rise. “He knew all this time how they were treating me and did nothing?”
“No,” Snape said firmly. “He had no idea the extent of their…. treatment of you until we began Occlumency lessons this term.”
“Oh,” Harry said quietly. “So you did tell him.” Harry said in a strange voice.
“Yes, I did Potter,” Snape said, eying Harry. “The Headmaster was quite alarmed at some of the behaviors I saw from your relatives in your memories. However, he stressed how important it is that you return to your relatives each summer. There is blood magic that protects you from the Dark Lord while you are at your aunt and uncle’s house each summer.”
Snape paused.
Harry seemed to be connecting the dots. “So because my aunt and my mum were sisters - related by blood - and my mum died to protect me, somehow my aunt’s house is able to protect me from Voldemort?”
“Do not say the Dark Lord’s name in my presence!” Snape barked with a glare.
Harry glared back, but with less venom than usual. “Sorry, sir.”
“But anyways, essentially yes, your aunt’s blood is warded to protect you from the Dark Lord. That’s why you must return there every summer for a few weeks instead of spending the entire summer with Weasley or Granger.”
“Oh,” Harry said.
“Yes,” Snape said, pressing his fingers together in front of him. “I wish I had a different answer for you Potter, but alas, that is life.”
“Right,” Harry said tersely.
“And regarding what I see in your head,” Snape said as Harry flushed, “I believe the majority of which is none of my business. I am not a psychiatrist and I doubt you want to be discussing your childhood memories with me, correct?”
“No sir,” Harry said, feeling his blush creep into his ears.
“Like I thought.” Snape said assertively. “Which is why I try so hard to impress upon you that you need to be trying harder to keep me from seeing your memories. If I can enter your mind, the Dark Lord can as well.”
Harry nodded reluctantly, rubbing his hand reflexively over his scar.
“Can I have a calming draught or something tonight, sir?” Harry asked. “My head really hurts and it’s harder to practice clearing it when it’s pounding.”
Snape took in the sight of Harry and for some reason agreed, waving his wand to procure the draught for Harry.
“Drink it now and let me know if you require another,” Snape said.
Harry downed the potion quickly and already began to feel a sense of warmth spread over him as his muscles relaxed and his headache ebbed out.
“That was enough for me, thank you Professor,” Harry said in a much more relaxed voice.
Snape nodded but said, “This is not to become a typical occurrence Mr. Potter. You need to do a better job of guarding your mind in your next lessons so you will not be requiring any potions afterwards.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be sure to practice tonight.” Harry got up from his seat and started to pull his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you sir for the potion, and for, well, you know,” Harry finished awkwardly as he ran his hand through his hair.
“Good night Mr. Potter,” Snape said finally, waiting for the boy to exit.
“Good night Professor,” Harry said as he twisted the door open.