Walk the Shadows

'You didn't mind before,' the young man replied, his voice low and sensual, insinuating.

Harry swallowed. 'I . . .' Confused, Harry took a step back. 'You . . . I don't remember before.'

'It's all right, I'll help you.' The young man smiled disarmingly. 'Come and sit with me again, and we'll watch the children at play.'

The sky darkened considerably, storm clouds collecting. Harry couldn't remember. He didn't like not remembering. And though the young man on the bench had seemed decent enough earlier, he made Harry's skin itch. And then there was Snape . . .

'Professor?' he said, still rather uncertain, and hoping for some kind of guidance.

'Look behind you, Harry. Please.'

It was the pleading that made the difference, in the end. Harry'd never heard that particular tone from Snape before, not once. He turned to the carousel, squinting at what should have been a scene of innocence and happiness and youthful joy. But nothing was the way it had been moments ago.

Pallid, rotting flesh and dead eyes. Silence instead of laughter. A wave of cold dread rolled over Harry from the mob of Inferi. They perched on chipped and pitted figures in torment: demonic horses that rolled eyes of fire to gaze balefully at their riders and whose heaving sides were wet with bloody foam.

Harry stumbled back, away from the nightmarish scene. Away from . . . Tom Riddle, who jumped up and grabbed for him. Harry shrank back again, revolted. Bile rose in his throat and threatened to choke him. His hands went to his throat, and he almost screamed when strong hands grasped his shoulders. He jerked away, but caught his breath again as Snape's smooth voice urged him to listen, to remember. Snape's hands settled on his shoulders again, and this time he allowed it. Tom glared at him, and glared at Snape, and the hate he saw in the Dark Lord's eyes made Harry decide that maybe he was doing the right thing, finally.

'Remember, child,' Snape said. His voice was oddly soothing, lacking its usual sneering sarcasm. 'It's hard, I know, but you need to remember.'

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. 'What . . . what happened, Professor?' he asked.

Snape's hands tightened, pinching his flesh. 'Your relatives fled, leaving you behind. Do you remember that?' When Harry nodded again, Snape continued, 'The Dark Lord sent his servants to get you, once the wards were breached. I think it had been some days since the Dursleys left. I was there, and I tried to help you, gave you potions after Bella . . . after she cast the Cruciatus upon you. Do you recall that now?'

Harry started trembling, the nod of his head a spasm. He did remember that, and Bellatrix's laugh, and trying to disarm one of the Death Eaters, and Snape's potions. And then he remembered . . . NO!

Snape went on, holding him steady, 'You were imprisoned, and the Dark Lord tried to subvert you, tried to gain your trust and support, but after I killed Nott and you lost your sight, we tried to escape him, you and I. And we were caught.' Snape paused, and his voice was so soft Harry almost couldn't hear, and he didn't want to hear it, he didn't, and yet he knew, if he ran now, he would lose everything. Still, tears ran down his cheeks, unnoticed, unchecked, and tremors in his legs threatened to topple him.

'He . . . punished you,' Snape said, and squeezed his shoulders tighter. 'He and Lucius and Bellatrix. With curses and torture, and then they raped you. Remember, now, Harry. To get through this, you have to. The Dark Lord gained access to your mind while your defenses were low, and only you can push him out again.'

Harry clenched his teeth and hissed, 'No . . . You're lying.'

'I'm not. I know you don't want to believe it, but you must. Burying the truth will only help him. He hurt you, I know. I saw.' Snape paused. 'I'm sorry.'

'You're LYING!'

'No, Harry,' and Snape's voice was so filled with regret that it hurt him deep inside. 'I wish I was.'

'I can't . . . No. Don't make me . . .'

'You can. You're strong. You've endured so much already. Open your eyes now, and see the truth.'

Harry drew a shuddering breath. 'No, I can't . . . I can't do this alone.'

Snape's sigh was warm and gentle on the back of his neck. 'I'm here, child. You won't have to face this alone.'

Harry's vision was blurred with tears when he complied, yet he could see everything so clearly now. The obscene carousel crept by in a stuttering circle, in the middle of a black and barren landscape. In front of him was Voldemort in his current form: white skin, red glowing eyes and no nose but snake-like slits. One skeletal hand reached for him.

'Get away from me!' Harry shrieked. A sob caught in his throat and he screamed to get it out. 'Get away! Get out and LEAVE ME ALONE!' Red tinged his vision and light exploded everywhere, brighter than the sun and ten times hotter on his skin. Pain seared through him, radiating from his scar and a magical wind whipped up like a cyclone. The wind scoured the dreamscape from his mind: carousel, bench, Dark Lord, all gone.

Empty. Everything was gone.

The only thing that kept Harry from collapsing altogether were the arms surrounding him, an anchor in the storm. In the utter silence that followed, Harry turned in those arms, clung to his Professor and wept.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxox

Back in Harry's bedroom, the boy clung to him and cried as Severus withdrew from his mind. Merlin. Everything hurt. His mind was battered, his body knocked about like an old tin can. But Harry remembered now, and the Dark Lord had gone from his mind. That was all that was important. Severus suspected Voldemort would need to regroup after his own violent expulsion from the boy's mind.

For the time being, however, Severus offered what comfort he could, and let the Chosen One sob himself