Similar Memories

Da... da... da...

In the dimly lit underground corridor, the unhurried footsteps broke the long silence. The sound struck the thick, dark stone walls, echoing dully, and a chill permeated the eerie basement.

Snape's offices were all located underground, with corridors extending even beneath the Black Lake. The long, empty corridors sometimes echoed with faint rumbling sounds, as if the waves of the Black Lake were roaring overhead.

Torches were gradually arranged on the wall, their dim flames burning silently, but the firewood showed no signs of shortening, as if it were not fuel for the flames, but rather a vessel for them.

The torches near the stairs were a brilliant orange-red, their bright flames radiating a soft warmth. As one walked deeper into the underground corridor, the flames gradually became darker and more profound. Near Snape's office, the flames were still a pale green, their cold light dim and devoid of warmth.

The serpentine relief patterns shimmered and flickered, appearing and disappearing. A gentle breeze blew through the air, rustling softly against the uneven stone wall, like the sound of a venomous snake lurking in a dark corner, flicking its tongue.

Professor Snape, the master of Legilimency, Occlumency ... Harry silently recited Loren's description, feeling somewhat uneasy.

He paused outside the door for a moment, a sense of trepidation creeping in, and even an impulse to turn around and leave.

After taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the office door. "Professor Snape, it's me, Harry Potter."

"Go in." The words were brief and the voice was soft.

The room, with its high, round dome, was spacious but dimly lit, with only two or three glass lamps casting a faint glow. Two rows of display shelves stood against the wall, containing hundreds of glass bottles of varying sizes, in which slimy plant and animal specimens floated in liquids of different colors.

A faint crimson glow flashed by, and a tall, thin figure stepped out of the storage room and sat down behind the desk.

Harry glanced discreetly at the storeroom, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with the crimson glow, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.

Click.

With a soft click, the desk lamp on the desk turned on, its gentle light illuminating a small area and revealing Snape's cold eyes and icy expression.

Harry was stunned. The lamp looked so stylish it looked like it had just come out of the factory. It wasn't magical at all, but it was very Muggle.

"Close the door behind you, Potter."

Harry did as instructed in a daze, only snapping out of it when he sat down at his desk and saw the meditation Stone Basin engraved with mysterious symbols.

Compared to the magical Pensieve, the lamp attracted Harry more, and he couldn't help but glance at it.

The base is made of off-white plastic with a frosted texture, covered with a layer of rubber. It has one button and one knob, no wires, and most notably, a string of familiar handwriting on the lampshade:

Merry Christmas to my most respected Severus Snape.

Harry blinked. This was Loren's handwriting, right? This was definitely Loren's handwriting!

"Stop looking..." Snape stared coldly at Harry, every hair on his body radiating disgust. "Potter, you know what you're doing here."

A cold, emotionless voice echoed in the enclosed space, "Occlumency, a magic that is not high-level but very ingenious, requiring wisdom and talent. About two years ago, Dumbledore begged me to give you guidance, instruction, and teaching... I think Dumbledore also advised you a long time ago to find a highly skilled teacher."

Snape chuckled softly. "Clearly, you didn't heed my advice."

Harry remained silent, wondering whether Snape was insulting Sirius Black or him, or both.

Never mind, let them curse if they want.

He was mentally prepared when he came.

Snape paused for a moment, clearly savoring the pleasure of humiliation and sarcasm. "A shallow and uncultured mind can only employ rigid and inflexible teaching methods, so you wasted two years and accomplished nothing."

"Yes," Harry replied emotionlessly.

"Be more respectful and say 'professor' or 'sir'."

"Yes... sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits. "Alright, I think you already know that Occlumency can prevent the mind from being invaded and affected by magic, such as Legilimency and Imperius Curse..."

"Don't try to fathom these magic concepts with your shallow understanding. Only Muggle talk about mind reading. The human mind isn't a book you can just flip through. Thoughts aren't words carved into skulls that you can't just crawl into and read. The human mind is a complex, multi-layered thing..."

"Those who can Legilimency can study other people's minds under certain circumstances and make accurate interpretations. For example, the Dark Lord can almost always tell when someone is lying to him. Only those skilled in Occlumency can conceal the contradictions and memories caused by lies..."

"As for you, Potter, I think Dumbledore has already explained that the spell that failed to kill you seems to have created some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord, a fragile connection that is a dangerous bond..."

"Pray, pray that you can learn Occlumency and protect your stupid and fragile mind before the Dark Lord discovers this secret tunnel and turns your brain into a swamp of filth."

"..."

Harry listened intently, extracting minute bits of instructional information from the barrage of sarcasm and irony, silently memorizing them.

Snape inserted his wand into the roots of his greasy hair, the tip of the wand gently touching his temple, drawing out a soft, silvery-white ray of light, like condensed, persistent mist, which fell into the clouds of the Pensieve, transforming into wisps of a substance that was neither gas nor liquid.

"I'm going to get into your brain," Snape whispered, pointing his wand at Harry. "Focus all your energy, don't let your guard down, don't relax, and resist my invasion with all your might."

Harry's heart pounded, and a sense of urgency made him tense.

"Now, prepare!" Snape suddenly roared. "Legilimency!"

Before Harry could even prepare to resist, an invisible, slender venomous snake seemed to burrow into his head. Its hard scales were covered in slippery mucus, and it seemed to move without resistance, probing into his eyes, past his brow, through his skull, and deep into his brain...

The silvery-white mist in the Pensieve suddenly floated lightly, rippling in circles. Tiny particles gathered into lines, outlining images, and some faded and distorted memories emerged in the ripples.

When he was five, he watched Dudley riding his brand-new red bicycle and was filled with envy...

When he was nine, his guard dog Ripper chased him up a tree, and he didn't dare come down until late at night, while the Dursley laughed heartily on the lawn...

When he was eleven, the Sorting Hat whispered on his head that Slytherin could fulfill his ambitions...

He crashed into the Whomping Willow in his Flying Car... was disoriented by Ron's small mirror... and collapsed when facing the Dementor...

Seeing Cho Chang embrace Cedric, he...

Harry's eyes widened suddenly, and he screamed in his heart: You can't look at this, you can't look at this, it's private!

call out--

The venomous snake in his mind was pulled out, the connection was suddenly severed, and several clumps of thick white ink suddenly surged from the lower part of the Pensieve, stirring up the originally clear mist and making it turbid, and even scattering the memories.

Harry slumped into a chair, relieved, breathing heavily through his nose and mouth, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"Your brain is so empty that it can hold Hippogriff flying freely without any obstruction," Snape said dismissively. "You let me in too deep, and I almost lost control."

Exhausted, Harry ignored the double entendre and asked listlessly, "You saw everything?"

A glint of light flickered in Snape's dark eyes as images of childhood bullying brought back many distant memories—of Cokeworth, of Spinner's End ...

"Some fragments." Snape pursed his lips, then asked casually, "Whose dog was that?"

"Aunt Marge's."

Harry answered quietly, and for some reason, his initial dissatisfaction with Snape's prying into his memories had lessened, replaced by resentment towards Ripper and Aunt Marge.

"Go ask Miss Know-It-All, or Morgan. There are many little spells that can deal with vicious dogs... I recommend the Blinding Curse."

"What?"

"Take a five-minute break, then we'll practice again."

Harry pursed his lips; Snape.

Monday, September 12th.

In the Third Greenhouse, Professor Sprout paced slowly, observing the young wizards squeezing the pustules on the Bebop Tuber.

"Your brain is so empty it could hold Hippogriff..."

Harry mimicked in a strange, high-pitched voice, the glass bottle full of pus wobbling in his hand, his eyes practically rolling to the sky, "You didn't hear his tone of voice with your own ears, so I don't know if he was saying my Occlumency was rudimentary or if he was calling me simple-minded and empty-headed."

"Hmm? Is there any doubt about that?"

Ron asked in surprise, slowly pressing on the abscess on Bebop Tuber, "Isn't this both an insult to your Occlumency being rudimentary and an insult to your simple mind?"

Harry glared at him, annoyed. "Thanks, you even went out of your way to explain it to me."

Next to the adjacent platform, Hermione stood slightly back, her hands, gloved in Dragon Hide Gloves, raised to her sides in front of her chest, her eyes wide as she watched Loren squeeze the abscess, occasionally swallowing hard.

Slurp—

A thick, yellowish-green pus spurted out, most of it falling into the glass bottle, while a small amount spilled onto the soil, emitting a complex stench.

Loren turned to look at her and handed her the glass bottle. "You're next?"

Hermione shook her head, holding up the Dragon Hide Gloves; she'd rather watch someone else do it today.

Loren turned around and continued collecting the pus, his movements fluid and pleasing to the eye.

This drew frequent glances from Ron and Harry, who were sitting nearby, who were swallowing hard.

After a week of this process, the pus from the Bebop Tuber seemed less disgusting, but the subtle sense of satisfaction from squeezing the pustules became more pronounced. Some young wizards even had a strange physiological reaction while watching the pus being squeezed, secreting large amounts of saliva as if they were seeing a delicious meal.

As the school bell rang, the young wizards walked out of the Greenhouse with complicated expressions, the subtle feeling still lingering in their hearts.

The second lesson was Professor Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures, which was also an outdoor course.

Loren, Hermione, Harry, and Ron put their notebooks into their bags and headed out toward Hagrid's Hut. After turning a corner, they reached the vegetable garden. Following the path along the field, they saw the lush greenery stretching endlessly. When they could vaguely make out the branches, they had reached the Edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The journey, which wasn't very long, hadn't gone far before Loren, dragging Hermione, fell behind.

The lavender in the fields is in bloom.

One by one, purple flowers bloom gracefully, forming clusters and patches...

An untended lavender field is not pure; the continuous purple is interspersed with scattered wildflowers of various colors, bursting with vigorous vitality in late summer and early autumn.

Loren stopped, took out his outdated camera, and pointed the lens at the flower bushes.

After a moment's hesitation, Loren adjusted the direction slightly, capturing the graceful girl in the frame. He adjusted the focus and softly called out, "Hermione?"

The little Witch turned around leisurely, tilted her head, and her bright eyes seemed to speak:

"What?"

The open space in front of Hagrid's Hut.

Hagrid announced to the young wizards with a beaming smile, "I can't wait to share some good news with you!"

Looking at the several large wooden crates placed beside them, and listening to the constant Exploding Snap sounds coming from inside the crates, Loren and the others felt a sense of foreboding.

The other young wizards didn't react much; they knew without guessing that the wooden box still contained the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

Oh, it's an even bigger Blast-Ended Skrewts.

If the Blast-Ended Skrewts undergoes metamorphosis, the Sickle be different.

Hagrid winked at Loren and the others. "With Headmaster Dumbledore's approval, I have submitted an application to the Ministry of Magic for a special training program for the Triwizard Tournament. That's right! It's the Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"With approval from multiple departments of the Ministry of Magic, these Blast-Ended Skrewts will be used for setting up the Triwizard Tournament stages. Darling, focus on studying these little guys..."

Harry and Ron opened their mouths slightly, their expressions somewhat blank.

I just can't understand it. Dumbledore gone senile? How could he allow Hagrid to conduct such an experiment?

Loren glanced at Hermione and said quietly, "It seems Hagrid has seriously considered your suggestion; he's studied the laws concerning Fantastic Beasts..."

Hermione silently lowered her head.

This isn't the learning method she's looking for.

Although no one has figured out exactly what they like to eat, Hagrid seems to have identified part of their diet, and the little monsters are growing rapidly. Compared to their six-inch length the previous week, the Blast-Ended Skrewts have doubled in size in just one week, their maggot-like bodies are more segmented, and their whitish-gray, sticky skin is showing signs of hardening into a shell.

The stench of rotten fish and shrimp grew even stronger, and whenever Blast-Ended Skrewts's tail shot out sparks, the little wizards who were nearby would feel slightly dizzy from suffocation and lack of oxygen.

The young wizards wailed in despair.