Chapter Text
“Oh, come on, Potter. After all this time, I thought even someone with an empty brain like yours would at least grasp the basics,” said Snape, lowering his wand. “How exactly do you expect to oppose the Dark Lord without even a basic understanding of the art... of Occlumency?”
When Harry finally got up from the floor, he glared at Snape, his anger obvious.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, still recovering from Snape rifling through his memories.
It was embarrassing.
The thought of Snape looking through his memories always sent a chill down Harry’s spine. How could Dumbledore think it was a good idea to have Snape teach him? Didn’t he realize Snape wouldn’t just teach him but would humiliate him in a million different ways during these lessons?
He knew.
Harry answered himself.
Dumbledore knew, but still thought it was the best option.
“I don’t know, sir, Potter. Show some respect for the people who have to deal with you on a daily basis. Because, if you didn’t know, it is indeed a very malicious task.”
Oh, how Harry wanted to punch that bastard in the face.
“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Snape glanced, noting his hunched posture from the countless times he’d fallen to the floor.
“Lesson’s over, Potter. Leave,” Snape said, turning back to his desk as though Harry had already left. After a moment, he glanced at him again and added, “Nine o’clock next time. Now leave.”
Without hesitation, Harry headed for the door, muttering a quiet "goodbye," and left as quickly as he could.
As he made his way toward Gryffindor Tower, Harry couldn’t help but think about how many different ways Snape could publicly humiliate him—though, honestly, Snape already did that enough.
But now, he’d seen Harry’s memories, something that, at least in Harry’s mind, had always been his alone. It was too personal, too private for Harry to ever feel comfortable with.
Wasn’t there another way to learn Occlumency? Did it really have to involve violating his memories over and over again?
And did it even help at all? After all, he still had those strange dreams. From what Harry had noticed, they’d only become more frequent since he started learning it.
He was walking through another corridor, passing by the bathrooms, when something caught his eye.
A black notebook, lying on the ground, surrounded by a splash of water.
Harry stepped closer and examined it more carefully.
It was dry, as if it hadn’t been lying in the water near the bathrooms at all.
He took a few steps back, trying to see if the water was, in fact, flowing from the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Harry almost recoiled in disgust.
He didn’t want to go there. Who knew what Myrtle was up to alone at nearly eleven PM? A hundred horrifying images involving the strange ghost filled Harry’s mind.
He might regret what he was about to do, but as always, curiosity got the better of him. He stepped into the water and began heading toward the bathroom door.
He hesitated only one more time before pushing open the door.
Harry immediately regretted the decision when his eyes met Myrtle's. She was sitting on top of the sinks, crying, surrounded by a flood of damaged books.
Every sink was running, and water was spilling everywhere.
He tried to leave quietly before she could notice him, but the splashes of water as he stepped into the room and the creaking of the old door opening were surely enough to alert her.
Harry cursed under his breath.
Myrtle looked in his direction, her eyes widening. Without warning, she levitated toward him.
"Harry, what are you doing here? Are you here to drown another egg in the bathtub?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Before Harry could even think of an answer to this absurd question, she added, "Don’t bother. I won’t help you this time. I’m not in the mood. Someone just threw their entire bag of books at me! Funny, isn’t it, to bully a whiny, moaning, ugly Myrtle, huh?" she shouted, getting right in his face.
Harry was frozen.
„No, Myrtle, I really wasn’t going to throw anything at you. Why would anyone do that?”
He tried to make his voice sound pitiful, hoping it would work on her. He didn’t know why, but he needed the answer to that question.
She started crying again. Harry noticed with some annoyance, and she splashed her hands in the sink, dramatically leaning over them.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
„They didn’t throw it exactly at me, I must admit. That boy had it worse than me, poor kid.”
„Who?” he quickly asked.
„Some fourth- or third-year, I suppose?”
She explained quickly, as if annoyed that he wasn’t pitying her more and instead was asking about some unknown kid.
Harry looked around at their surroundings again, taking a closer look at the books surrounding them. All were old, now soaked, and all about things he had never cared about or even thought about.
„How to make wizards stay forever in your photograph?”
„10 spells to capture a ghost in a photo.”
„How to conjure light that will bring your picture to life.”
What the hell...?
„Ugh, Myrtle?” he asked, still staring at the weird books. „Why would someone throw books like that at that kid?”
Myrtle answered by splashing her hand in the water again.
Harry looked at her hand for a moment. He would never understand how ghostly physiques worked, but now wasn’t the time for such silly thoughts.
„It was that bullied kid, the one who's always with the camera. It all happened in front of that bathroom.”
Colin Creevey, Harry deduced quickly, quite proud of himself.
She paused, as if gathering the memory.
„The bullies were saying something like, ‘Why are you reading these stupid books anyway?’”
She tried to imitate their voices, doing a mockingly low tone.
„Oh, come on. Just give them back to me,” she said, now in a higher-pitched voice.
„And then, DONG!”
She shouted with excitement, her voice sharp and full of energy.
„They forcefully opened the door, they almost scared me to death! Then they started throwing these books at him. They ripped some of them and then threw them at him,” she said in disbelief.
Harry blinked, still trying to make sense of it all.
„And then… they flooded everything?” he asked in disbelief.
„No, stupid. That was me. They also threw some books at me, so I started folding them, of course!”
Harry blinked once again.
„Of course,” he mumbled, heading back to the corridor to find that weirdly unbothered-by-water notebook. He grabbed it and looked at it carefully. This one didn’t have any strange title—how did it get here? It seemed so out of place. He opened it, just to see blank pages.
"Myrtle? Did this also belong to Colin?” He showed Myrtle the black notebook.
She tilted her head to one side in curiosity.
„I’m not sure, Harry. There was so much going on, but it could.”
„Oh! I remember now!” she said after a moment with excitement. „They said something about him getting some of the ‘useless, unwanted books,’” she imitated the low voice once again. „I think they were chasing him since the library; kid must be fast.” She added with a bit of, respect?
Harry looked at the notebook with disbelief. He wasn’t sure if that’s exactly what had happened, but he had enough of talking to a ghost.
Harry started heading toward his bedroom, still staring at the notebook. It felt oddly heavy in his hands, even though it was empty. It didn’t make sense. He could feel his curiosity tugging at him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with this mystery anymore. The whole situation with Myrtle, the strange books, and Colin’s involvement—it all felt too strange, too tangled.
But something about that notebook wouldn’t let him go.
He turned it over in his hands, the cover smooth and dark, with no title or… markings…wait
Harry looked at the inside cover, showing the faint inscription 'T.M. Riddle'
“Maybe I’m just overthinking this,” he muttered to himself, though the words didn’t convince him. Something was off. He could feel it deep in his gut.
He took a deep breath, looked at the notebook one last time, then stuffed it into his bag. “I’ll figure this out. Somehow.”
With that, he turned and stepped into the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silence.
If only he knew that future him would curse him right now.