I became Voldemort Chapter 282: That’s my mother! What does it have to do with

When Harry erged from the Chamber of Secrets, he felt he no longer feared death.

There was nothing terrifying about it; Jas had told him that death was lighter than sleep and entirely painless.

In fact, when Harry left the Chamber, the History of Magic class hadn't even ended. He hadn't spent much ti with his parents. Ever since he had been enthralled by the Mirror of Erised in his first year, Harry knew he shouldn't beco too attached to illusions.

Besides, he thought he wouldn't have to wait long to see them again.

...

Harry's first Occluncy lesson was on Saturday. That day, as usual, he headed to the dungeons and happened to run into Malfoy wandering around the castle.

Ever since Malfoy returned to Hogwarts under Cyrus's lead, his excitent had diminished significantly.

To be honest, Malfoy had initially felt nostalgic about his days at Hogwarts. After all, his two friends were still here. But this ti, upon returning, Malfoy realized that things had changed.

Goyle and Crabbe now regarded him with hostility, loudly declaring that he and his father were traitors who would eventually face retribution.

The rest of Slytherin wasn't much different.

Nowadays, the entire house seed divided into two factions. One side's parents still supported Voldemort, while the other had crossed the fire to rally around Cyrus.

Because of this, Malfoy found everything far less enjoyable. So much so that, even when he ran into Harry, he had no energy to pick a fight.

Coincidentally, at this mont, even looking at Malfoy gave Harry a faint sense of nostalgia.

However, as Harry approached Snape's office, that nostalgia quickly faded.

He realized his steps had stopped at the sa place as Malfoy's—right outside Snape's office door.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I could ask you the sa thing, Potter."

Although his dislike for Harry was still evident, and he frowned as if he wanted to start an argunt to relive the old days, he opened his mouth but said nothing.

He decided it wasn't worth wasting ti on an idiot like Harry.

Unlike Harry Potter, who could still carelessly enjoy his carefree school life, Malfoy felt he was being crushed by imnse responsibility and pressure. His family was caught between Voldemort and Cyrus, and he believed it was ti to act more maturely.

"It's none of your business!"

"That's exactly what I was going to say!"

Malfoy responded, insincere as ever. With a cold sneer, he pushed open the door to Snape's office. The two of them entered one after the other.

The room was dimly lit, with shelves lined with hundreds of glass jars. Sticky specins of plants and animals floated in colorful potions.

"I brought the Pensieve, Professor," Malfoy said as he entered the room. From a small bundle—likely enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm—he pulled out a shallow stone basin engraved with mysterious symbols.

"The Pensieve?" Harry imdiately recognized it.

At another ti, Harry had entered a Pensieve with Dumbledore. Malfoy's Pensieve looked older and more worn than Dumbledore's.

"Where did you get a Pensieve?"

"None of your business!" Malfoy snapped instinctively. But then, reconsidering, he smirked smugly. "Of course, it was a gift from Professor Cyrus! He personally taught advanced Alchemy back in second year! This Pensieve was sothing I repaired back then!"

Hearing this, Harry felt a pang of jealousy.

He had ti to teach Malfoy but not ?

"Close the door behind you, Potter."

Harry was still fuming when Snape's cold voice erged from the shadows, startling him.

It was unclear whether Snape had been in the dark from the start or had just stepped in, but his sudden voice made both Malfoy and Harry feel uneasy.

"Draco, place the Pensieve on the table, then you may leave," Snape said, his hollow gaze briefly sweeping over Malfoy. "And rember, do not speak of this to anyone."

"I understand, Professor. Headmaster Cyrus has already ntioned it to ."

With a nod, Malfoy left the office. Harry stepped forward and closed the door.

The creaking sound of the wooden door shutting felt to Harry as if he were being swallowed by darkness, trapped forever in this cold, oppressive prison. Snape, standing within this cage, seed like a venomous snake, his head raised and ready to strike.

But Snape didn't.

Instead, the man Harry considered utterly detestable moved toward the desk, standing in the only pool of firelight in the entire room. The flickering flas didn't make him look any warr; if anything, they only made him more sinister.

Snape silently gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

Harry walked over and sat down. Snape followed suit, sitting across from him, his cold, unblinking black eyes fixed on Harry. Every line on his face seed etched with disdain.

"All right, Potter, you know why you're here," he said. "Cyrus has tasked with teaching you Occluncy. I can only hope you're more competent at this than you are in Potions."

Perhaps because he knew his days were numbered, Harry felt bolder than usual.

At that mont, Harry summoned his courage, looked Snape directly in the eye, and asked, "Why does Mr. Cyrus think I need it?"

Snape did not imdiately answer Harry's question. Instead, he dragged out a long, disgruntled tone as he angrily corrected Harry's lack of respect:

"This may not be an ordinary lesson, but I am still your teacher. You should add Professor or... Sir!"

There was always a certain satisfaction in making Jas Potter's son address him with respect.

Harry did add a title, though not without a twist.

"Please tell , Sir, why does Mr. Cyrus, think I need it?"

He put deliberate emphasis on the word sir.

It was outright mockery!

Snape, however, didn't waste ti dwelling on it. He had long since accepted that Harry Potter, like his father, was an arrogant and insolent brat.

Ignoring the issue of titles, he shifted directly to a personal attack.

"Why does he think you need it?" Snape let out a cold, disdainful laugh. "Clearly, Cyrus believes your brain is as empty as a troll's—or perhaps like a lavatory, open for anyone to wander in and out of."

He paused for a mont, seemingly savoring the pleasure of insulting Harry.

Harry didn't get angry because he recalled how, during the incident at the Departnt of Mysteries, Voldemort had seen straight into his mind. Similar things had happened many tis before, but Harry had never paid much attention to it.

"So, you're saying that once I learn Occluncy, I can avoid having my mind read?"

"Read minds? Only Muggles would think of it as mind-reading," Snape sneered again. "You fail to grasp the subtle distinction. You're careless—that's why your Potions grades are always so dreadful!"

My Potions grades are dreadful because you're constantly picking on ! Harry thought bitterly to himself.

To be fair, Harry's performance in Potions wasn't truly abysmal. Even with Snape nitpicking and creating problems out of thin air, Harry had managed to earn a solid passing grade on his O.W.L.s, which proved he had at least so aptitude for the subject.

"That minor aptitude of yours is hardly worth ntioning," Snape said as though he had plucked the thought straight from Harry's mind. "The insufferable know-it-all Miss Granger was brewing Polyjuice Potion back in second year." He pointedly referenced their past exploits.

"Now, listen to ! The mind isn't a book, Potter; it can't simply be opened and read at will. Thoughts aren't carved into the skull, waiting for soone to crawl in and decipher them. The mind is a complex, multilayered entity, Potter—at least, most minds are..."

At this point, Snape paused, a smirk forming on his face.

It was clear he was mocking Harry, implying that his mind was one of the rare exceptions—simple, one-dinsional, and foolish.

To so extent, it was hard to argue otherwise. Scoff~

"Legilincy is the ability to extract emotions and mories from another person's mind," Snape began.

In most cases, this ant—emotions.

"But for masters of Legilincy or natural-born Legilins, it can allow them to study soone's mind in certain circumstances and make accurate interpretations.

"For example, the Dark Lord can almost always tell when soone is lying to him. Only those skilled in Occluncy can seal away feelings and mories that contradict their lies, deceiving him without being detected."

"Isn't that mind-reading?"

As Snape had said earlier, Harry struggled to grasp the subtle difference.

In truth, Legilincy was like extracting a mosaic-like image from soone's mind. How that image was interpreted depended on the skill of the Legilins.

A highly skilled Legilins could see through the surface to uncover the essence, revealing the true picture hidden behind the mosaic.

A skilled Occluns, on the other hand, wouldn't simply make the mosaic blurrier. Instead, they would replace it with a false image of their choosing, achieving deception by showing only what they wanted the Legilins to see.

"Of course, ti and space affect magic, Potter. Eye contact is often crucial for Legilincy," Snape said, staring into Harry's erald-green eyes.

This made Harry instinctively avert his gaze.

For the first ti, he didn't stubbornly maintain eye contact with Snape until his eyes burned.

He thought to himself, if ti and space can influence the power of magic, and Cyrus insisted on him learning Occluncy, perhaps his earlier suspicions were correct.

That he would inevitably face the Dark Lord. That he would have to die.

'Of course, I won't run away!'

Perhaps because Harry had looked away, Snape couldn't sense his thoughts at that mont.

A flicker of disappointnt crossed Snape's eyes, so brief it was as though it had never been there. He quickly continued, "In theory, the magic of Hogwarts Castle would protect you. But since Cyrus insists you learn this, I trust he has his reasons."

Snape drew his wand from his robes and pressed it against Harry's temple.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation. Harry felt as if that small patch of skin was swelling, throbbing with a sharp pain.

"I don't care what his reasons are. My only task is to teach you," Snape said, his tone icy and detached, as though he thought Harry dying would be the best outco.

Of course, this was a lie.

If Snape had caught even a glimpse of Harry's belief that he needed to die, he would likely have stord straight to Cyrus and demanded an explanation.

"I have one more question," Harry asked nervously, feeling the throbbing in his temple. "What's the Pensieve for?"

"It's not for you. It's for ," Snape said, his wand doing nothing to Harry but instead pressing against his own temple. He smirked coldly as he drew a silvery, distorted thread from his head.

Harry recognized it as one of Snape's mories.

What Harry didn't understand was what kind of dark, unspeakable past the mory contained that Snape would go to such lengths to carefully extract and store it before they began.

"Stand up, take out your wand, Potter," Snape instructed. "You may disarm or defend yourself by any ans you can think of."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to enter your mind," Snape said softly. "I want to test your ability to resist. Now, prepare yourself... Legilins!"

Harry couldn't fathom how one could disarm soone probing on soone's mind. Knock their head off? That was ridiculous!

Even Snape hadn't expected how easily he breached Harry's mind—it was like a truck crashing through a thin sheet of paper.

Snape felt as though he were flying through a stormy night on a broomstick, with Harry's mories pelting him like raindrops.

Five-year-old Harry, watching Dudley ride a shiny red bike, feeling a surge of envy...

Sitting beneath the Sorting Hat, hearing it suggest Slytherin...

Seeing Cho Chang with Cedric Diggory at breakfast, nursing a quiet heartbreak...

And in the Chamber of Secrets, being embraced by Lily—!!

The scene shattered abruptly.

Harry found himself sprawled on the floor, gasping for air, bracing for Snape's inevitable scorn.

But the rebuke never ca.

Looking up, he saw Snape staring at him with an unfamiliar expression. There was a gleam in those black eyes that made Harry deeply uncomfortable, as though he were a piece of honey-glazed roast at.

"Hand it over!"

Snape extended his hand, his breath heavier than usual.

It was as if Snape had suddenly co alive—no longer looking like a lifeless gloomy guy but soone vibrant and pulsating with intensity.

"What?"

"The stone," Snape said urgently, "I saw you summon Lily's soul."

Unlike Voldemort, Snape, although also a half-blood, had heard the tale of The Deathly Hallows since he was a child. He imdiately connected the stone with the Resurrection Stone.

But whether it was or not didn't matter now—he was about to see Lily Evans' face!

It was what he had longed for!

"Hand it over!"

"That's my mother! What does it have to do with you?!"

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