Hogwarts was in uproar. Everywhere Harry could look, papers flooded the library. The titles were different, but the content was all the same. Voldemort was back, You-know-who has horcruxes, He-who-must-not-be-named can resurrect the dead. The death eaters were loose, and a battle was looming at the ministry of magic. 

Students dropped books to pick up papers, teachers yelled and left their classrooms. Dumbledore himself was there, overlooking the chaos with his serene expression. A clamor had risen, so much so that Harry couldn’t hear a word of anything being said. He saw students pointing at him, students covering their mouths, and students tripping over news articles. Belongings laid strewn on the floor in a disorderly chaos. 

It was as if the apocalypse itself had arrived. Owls swooped overhead in confusion, letters dropping from the ceiling but not finding their target. Angry pecks and swooping only quelled by a collection of charms and curses. Colourful light flew through the air like a rainbow within the library, but the storm had not ended. 

Howlers exploded over their heads, parents screaming a thousand different names to stay at the school where Dumbledore would keep them safe. Normal letters of all sorts decorated the ground like collected snow. Sorting through them all would have taken Harry a whole week. Maybe even more. 

It was a mixture of shock and relief that Harry felt when all the papers turned to cheese. There was a stunned silence for a moment as what used to be a newspaper was replaced with a dairy product, then the shouting began again. That is, until Dumbledore spoke up. 

The headmaster’s voice had a way of carrying across the room. It was as if he were a light in a room without electricity. All eyes turned to him as he spoke, and he never had to raise his voice to be heard. “Students, return to your classrooms. The issue at hand will be dealt with, and is none of your concern. Leave, your letters will be found and given to you.” He said. His words had an effect instantly.

Students picked up whatever they dropped, and began leaving the room. Harry gave his silent applause. What he wouldn’t give to be respected like that. He saw Snape hurry over, the students parting as he passed by. But Dumbledore reached him first. 

“Hello there, Harry.” He said. His voice was all calm serenity, as good a mask as anyone could receive. 

“Hello, Professor.” Harry said. His eyes darted around for Snape. Why had the headmaster asked for him now of all times? 

“I’ve heard very much about you from Snape. Students seem to agree that you have mastered potions that most fourth years would struggle with.” He said. 

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Harry felt his blood run cold. “An exaggeration, Professor.” He said. 

“Quite modest for a boy so young. You are talented, Harry. Can you introduce me to your teacher?” 

Harry’s heart beat faster. “Don’t you already know professor Snape and my mother?” He asked. 

“Not them, Harry. You have another.” He said. 

“I can show you where Uncle Sirius lives when I visit this Sunday.” Harry offered. 

“Not him either, Harry. Your first teacher. He was teaching you before your mother bought you a picture book. Before you used magic. I can promise that I mean no harm. His identity is secret, and that is concerning. He may have put a spell on you. Would you mind telling me about him?” As he finished, Harry could feel as if something had entered his head, poking through his mind. 

He ran. At least, he tried to. Harry felt the world dissolve around him, his surroundings fading away like storm clouds after the rain. 

The kitchen was red. Harry looked up to see a dim room closed in by stone walls. A balled fist drove him half to the ground. He heard the sound of bones crunching as he heaved for breath. Pain took him, the only feeling he had. He tried to scream, but couldn’t move his mouth. 

“Harry”, he heard. 

“Useless thing! Friends, huh? Where are they now? Think they’ll come and help you?” Another crunch filled the air as Harry felt a kick on his shoulder. Not his shoulder, he realized. This body was too large to be his. 

“Harry”. The voice was more forceful this time. 

“Why are you silent, huh? Think you’re tough? Get back to work!” Harry felt himself scream as blood spurted out from his back. 

“Harry!” He felt himself snap back to reality as his eyes met Snape’s. He was shaking, and tears had filled his glowing green eyes. Inside of his head, he thought he could hear Magnus panting. His scar burned like a fire, and touching it scorched his skin. 

Snape’s eyes were colder than a glacier. Even so, Harry would not have been surprised to see smoke emerging from it. “Legilimency, Dumbledore. On a child of four. Explain yourself.” His voice was quiet, and terrifying. 

“The child has something in his head that shouldn’t be there. Dark memories of a past that does not belong to him. I suspect this is the work of-” Dumbledore began. 

“Dark magic? So you searched his mind, without permission? Be thankful that this is not my son, or I would curse you right now.” He snarled. 

“...I must examine him, to ensure no damage has been done to his mind.” He finished.

“I daresay you’ve done enough. Come, Harry.” Snape said, grabbing his shoulder. They left, Snape never looking back.