The Dark Gryffindor

Sorry to hear you found the last chapter boring. I agree it was in a way, boring but it had a point.

The chapter below is really difficult and draining for me to write below. Plus, the title does not fit well enough.


Chapter Sixteen: Release


Valerie and Professor Snape did not meet again until Tuesday for the next Dark Arts lesson, as that was the day marked in her timetables. However, Snape's plan was not to be studying Dark Arts. The agenda Snape had in mind was getting Valerie past the emotional barriers stopping her from being a master Occlumens.

She possessed the gall not to knock on the headmaster’s door. Valerie flinched at the scene before her and Snape hardly noticed her enter.

Another girl was in the room, considerably younger than herself, with her back turned, facing Snape. Before Valerie could react, she heard a cracking sound and a cry. Valerie could see Snape standing in front of the girl, his face towards Valerie’s direction. But his hooked nose down, eyes glued, narrowing down at the small girl. Valerie listened to her cry out again, her head bobbing to stare at the floor as Snape struck her again with a springy willow cane.

Valerie backed away, hoping the girl wouldn't look her way as Snape said, “Leave. Now. Your punishment is over. Tell the bloody Carrows I punished you like they wanted it. Meaning, however false, I used the Cruciatus Curse.”

The girl finally looked up at Snape terrified and squeaked a miserable “yes.” And she backed away from Snape, too afraid to turn her back to him, as she nursed her hand, still stinging from the cane.

“Turn around and walk out properly!,” boomed Snape, clearly aggravated and wanting the child to leave.

She jumped in terror and obeyed at once. Valerie watched her go. The girl had tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked terrified beyond words. That was understandable, considering Snape had killed the girl’s former headmaster, the beloved Dumbledore.

Finally, the little girl shakily held the brass doorknob and left the circular room, still sobbing.

Valerie turned back to Snape still standing in front of his desk looking like a villainous teacher. She was at a loss of words and could not think of a way to break the silence that now stretched in the room.

But the portrait of Dumbledore broke it instead, admonishing Snape with clear disappointment and anger, “Severus…I think you overuse caning pupils!”

“You know I disagree with you on corporal punishment, Dumbledore. But it would be worse for her if the Carrows sent Ms. Smith for detention in the dungeons!” retorted Snape.

Snape went on with rectitude, holding the small cane, poised at his shoulder over his chest as he paced the room, “I happen to be a headmaster, who believes this works. Sometimes caning – or other strong discipline is in order. However in this case…,” and Snape put the cane down, resting it across both his hands, “I would not have punished that poor little girl. She did not deserve it.”

Valerie strode over to Snape’s desk and asked nervously, “But why did you hit her across the hands, sir? I never heard of that?”

“Well, you wouldn’t have would you? It would not make sense to you. Wizards tendency is to avoid punishing their young physically on the hands. Naturally so, as the hands are so important for doing magic and holding wands.

“You see, Valerie…Cindy Smith, Pureblood Ravenclaw refused to bend over my desk. I asked her three times. So finally, I remembered something from the time I was in muggle primary school before I went to Hogwarts…I was struck on the palm with a strap by some muggle schoolmaster…,” said Snape indifferent to this memory and then he went on, “So I decided to do it there. Of course using the smallest cane.”

Valerie nodded watching somewhat intimidated as Snape absentmindedly brought the cane down into his own hand, slapping it lightly against his palm. She thought how strange it was, the other day she had been laughing with Severus Snape like an equal as they skated and picnkiced and. Now Snape was clearly back into his mode of being a sadistic schoolmaster.

Suddenly he took out other much more lethal looking instruments after tossing the cane aside on his desk. They were small shining blades wrapped up in a cloth.

Valerie did not want to forget it just yet so she persisted in asking, “But why was she crying? She was terrified of you, sir!"

“I have no idea, Ms. Powers. I mean Valerie. I only gave the second year child two strokes, I was lenient and dare I say, merciful.”

“Sir – I have to say it - it looked pretty cruel to me. Actually, it was very cruel of you,” she stated boldly. She knew if she didn’t restrain herself he could decide to punish her too, or worse make her leave, but she decided to continue with what she had planned to mention, “I’ve been thinking on everything. And I think Mcgonagall might be right. Maybe you are on the Dark Lord’s side. I still think you might be fooling me.”

Snape gripped his hands over the desk and looked directly at Valerie. “Well then….I suppose it’s high time I offer you more definitive proof. The final piece of the puzzle regarding all my past. That is, all the past of mine you need to know. I suppose I can show it to you today. But first- Sit.”

Valerie obeyed and Snape sat down at his head’s chair across from her. “Explain exactly what your father did to you, Valerie.”

Valerie’s mouth parted stupidly. “What?,” she said blankly, not processing what her ears had heard.

“I know he hurt you,” said Snape, with a little more sensitivity this time, but then he forcefully shot his index at her and said, “Explain.”

“About my father?,” said Valerie with confusion.

“Yes,” Snape said very quickly and firmly.

Valerie’s eyes went downcast, viewing the ornate carpeting of the floor and she said dully almost a slur, “My father is dead.”

“Your father was the wizard…the magical parent. Correct?,” said Snape. Although Snape knew this fact, he was just trying to get to her talk.

“Yes, sir. And my mother is alive. My mother was oppressed. He took advantage of her with his magic. They divorced when I was five but he had custody rights and I had to visit him often. And when I was alone….” But Valerie’s voice trailed off into the distance she could not bear discuss everything at once.

“Interesting,” said Snape delicately. “Interesting is the fact that in my situation, Valerie it was actually my mother who was the witch, in such a sorry state and abused by her muggle husband. It does not matter who has the magical means, then. I was also left alone very much like a divorce. For Eileen did not do much to care for me. I was a neglected boy. But still in the end she cared. Now tell me…What did your father DO to you?”

Valerie took a deep breath and finally answered, “He was sexually abusive.” It felt strange for Valerie to hear herself say it aloud. As a defense mechanism, she remained cold and detached as Snape prompted her asking what this meant and he couldn’t help add in he had guessed it correctly to himself before. She elaborated, still impassive, “He touched me and made me do things I didn’t want to….”

“Now that I’ve gotten you to admit it, we can proceed. I take it you don’t know how to use a Pensieve?”

“I actually do know,” Valerie said.

“Good. Remove your memories of the events – the ones alone with your father and put them in the pensieve.”

Automatically Valerie shook her head vigorously.

“Do it,” Snape said again.

Valerie said, “No, sir. I will not. I’m too scared.”

“Scared. Of what?” growled Snape, sharply.

Valerie whined, resisting her voice cracking into a sob, “Scared of what you’ll think.”

Snape rolled his eyes in irritation and said, “This is your problem. The problem you have with others. It’s all about relating to people.”

“What people?!,” screeched Valerie, incensed.

“You won’t trust me, despite all I’ve shared with you…,” and Snape bit his lip, looking pensive, recalling his conversation with Dumbledore the other night. The old man most certainly had been right on his observing of Valerie.

“Alright. I’ll do it!,” she relented and at once tipped her wand to her right temple. Out came a twirling blue strand, after twirling blue strand. Valerie could have went on for awhile. Snape stopped her suddenly, “That’s enough for the moment. I’m sure those memories will suffice for the gist of what I wish to understand about you…”

Valerie’s eyebrows scrunched up across the pensieve between them at the desk, a defiant look on her face. “I don’t want to hear you analyze it, sir! And I don’t want to talk about the details after you’ve seen it…Okay?”

“I understand, Valerie. I know this is traumatic for you to relive alone, and then to view it with another will make it harder. I will not exacerbate that.”

So Snape and Valerie were sucked into the pensieve at the same moment, landing in a small bedroom. Surprisingly it was far from underkept. It looked like the bedroom of a very happy little girl full of all sorts of toys girls' like and covered in pink.

“I don’t really like pink, professor. Not even when I was – six,” said Valerie, as she saw it was herself at that age.

The only really strange element of the bedroom was the number of dolls, and the fact that many of them were naked dolls, lining shelves. At least above the strange dolls was a more normal element, the all-girl Quidditch team, the Holy-Head Harpies depicted in shining posters.

A little girl with scraggly short hair, shorts and a t-shirt was ordering her favorite playthings inside her toy chest against the wall, doing cumbersome magic without a wand. A tall gray-haired man came in, who was clearly a wizard, wearing gregarious multi-colored robes, making him look even more freakish than what most muggles thought of them.

“Daddy – I don’t want to play dolls!,” cried the girl in terror, backing into the corner sobbing, holding out her teddy bear. Clearly, she associated playing dolls with something horrible. She was not hugging the teddy bear for comfort, but hoping it would distract her father from what she knew undressing the dolls meant and hopefully appease him to play with her teddy instead.

The father came closer – and Snape watched with curiosity, trying to get his make of the wizard. The present-time Valerie watched as well – a disgusted pout on her face.

“Now, now Valerie. When you visit Daddy, that means you’re away from mummy. So you do what Daddy likes,” said the father softly. He did not seem mean. Quite the contrary there was a sort of weird kindess in his light blue-gray eyes with a gleam that made one realize he was practically crazy. Something was not right with him upstairs.

Snape saw this in the man’s body language and now Snape had a sickened look on his face, his sallow complexion actually turning green in colour. Snape watched for another moment as much as he could stomach – the father had picked up the small girl, kicking and screaming and laid her on the bed, undressing her and calling her his favorite doll. Meanwhile he fondled and touched six-year-old Valerie everywhere, all the while speaking softly to her as if that would calm her.

“I’ve seen enough!,” cried Snape, and he grabbed the present-day Valerie’s elbow and they sailed out of the pensieve. Back inside the present day headmaster’s office, Snape watched Valere very carefully to see her reaction. She was expressionless. “But I think I must see one more. Just to understand it better. Stand and bend into the pensieve.”

Valerie stood up from where she had hunched in the armchair. Once again she went with Snape, dipping their heads into the pensieve. At their heads skimming the surface, like a magnetic force they were drawn in.

In this memory Valerie was nine-years-old and her hair was long and not as straggly as it had been when she was six.

Her father was on top of her in this memory as Valerie huddled on a living room couch. The man was holding a large ice cream in a cone, and in the other hand, fingering his penis, showing it off. Young Valerie was cowering in the couch, wanting to escape.

“Lick this Valerie and you get the ice-cream sundae. Daddy wants to enjoy your hot tongue on his stick,” the man said softly, like he was being seductive. There could be no doubt he was insane at the time of this memory as well.

Valerie shook her head vigorously resisting her father and then shouted, “I don’t want ice-cream!”

The man’s eyes narrowed at this becoming stern, but his soft cooing voice did not falter, “You will eat your ice-cream after you have a taste of daddy! Daddy made this ice-cream special for you Valerie. Now lick.”

The little girl clamped her mouth shut and stared at her father defiantly. “Lick it or I’lll have to hurt you. I’ll have to hurt you,” said the father.

The girl seemed to know what this meant and she closed her legs in terror and began licking where she had been instructed. After just a few seconds, the father handed her the ice-cream. Nine-year-old Valerie took it reluctantly, and did not look the least bit enthused at eating it. “Come on now, Valerie. Eat your ice-cream,” he said in a sickening voice, as if he was being a great caretaker.

Snape and seventeen-year-old Valerie sailed out of the memory, coming to the surface and popping into the present time once again.

Snape surveyed Valerie across from him, between the desk and asked gently, “I’ll have to hurt you, he said. What did this mean? Did your father beat you Valerie?”

“No, sir. Not at all. He didn’t even spank me. I guess this is why I kind of it enjoy it when you’ve er- spanked me, sir.”

“Yes, I agree,” said Snape and he stated explicitly “You enjoy pain to deal with the incest whether or not you were aware of it, it is true. That is what makes you a masochist to the point of wanting to be Crucioed at times. Is it not?”

“Yes, sir,” Valerie whispered and her body shook at admitting this truth. “Pain is good. It removes weakness.”

Snape sighed and sat down again. He did not wish to see any more of the horrible memories of Valerie’s past. They were making him feel a whole spectrum of feelings he had never felt before for Valerie. Things like pity, and a deep sadness. He merely commented, “I finally understand you, Valerie. I can see now why you are the way you are….You are full of hypocrisy or rather, to put it amenably, you are quite the contradiction.”

“Excuse me?,” said Valerie irritated and trying to suppress the anger rising inside her, she demanded, “Explain what you mean.” She wasn’t sure whether to be offended by his comment.

“It is your nature. Your nature to act as if you are what you are not. In the process you lie to yourself. Such as now with your statement about pain being useful. That is quite contradictory.”

“Yes, but why?,” she demanded him. She wanted him to explain why he thought it a contradiction in her to enjoy pain.

"You mask pain for something else much deeper. I cannot explain it. It is for you to realize in yourself, I'm afraid."

And at these words, Valerie seemed to fall into a dark epiphany. She avalanched into sobs on the floor, bawling and kicking and screaming at her loss of power. Of all that loss of power she had experienced with her father. Snape was very kind. He simply held her and let her release the inner turmoil she had been bottling for so many years, knowing it would make her a strong witch in the end. “There now. It’s not happening now, Valerie and what’s more the man who did all those things to you is gone. And I have a pensieve to give you to keep it off your mind.”