Severus swept up the stairs to Professor Dumbledore’s office with as much authority as he could muster. Each step seemed to be mocking him, to be laughing uproariously at his misfortune. For a moment he seriously considered turning back to Voldemort. He did not want his body at the mercy of that horrible Potter boy. He did not want to have to live the young Gryffindor’s life. He wanted to be in his office, curled up at the fire with a crossword and a do-not-disturb sign planted firmly on his locked door. Dumbledore was adamant, however. The older man was sure this was the only way of ensuring the Wizarding World’s survival. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry Potter was important and better he, Severus, die at the hands of Voldemort than Harry. His insides gave a dramatic twist as he thought about his mind, his soul, being in another vessel. He hoped Dumbledore was right when he said it was Harry’s mind, and not his body that held his power. For a moment he wondered if Harry would be able to speak Parseltongue within his form but he crushed the thought and billowed into the office, Potter just ahead of him.
“Ahh good, Severus. Harry, you had a nice walk I suppose?” Dumbledore said, standing by the window with his white beard flowing majestically.
“Yes. It was lovely,” the churlish child said belligerently. Severus momentarily considered all the things he could do to straighten out the boy’s temperament. Perhaps taunts about what he could do during Quidditch would work? But no. He wasn’t going to jeopardise the mission with mild amusements. It was too risky for that. He would behave himself if Potter would. Once again he squirmed slightly knowing that in one short week he would have to live a lie.
“Right, I really do think we’re going to have to have a series of extensive information sessions before we perform the ritual. And some practice sessions afterwards,” Dumbledore was saying, “Severus, you start.”
“Where do I begin, Headmaster?”
“Well, how about your favourite colour?” Dumbledore said with a slight twinkle in his eye.
“I really don’t know who would ask such an inane question, but the answer is Silver,” Severus replied, looking at the older man with cool politeness.
“Don’t address me, Severus, tell Harry!” Dumbledore said next, waving his hand at Harry, who had a look of mild surprise on his face.
“Your turn, Potter,” Severus simply said, bringing his arms across his chest.
“I don’t have a favourite colour, Professor,” Harry said. Snape sighed. He could tell this was going to take a very long time indeed.
***********
After a rather long time which yielded no results Dumbledore walked over to his bureau and extracted a small golden device. Severus had never seen one before, but he had read about them. It was an Accluma, a device used for storing information and transferring it to whomever needed it. To his knowledge there were only three which still existed.
“What’s that?” the stupid boy asked and Severus decided to allow Dumbledore to respond.
“It’s a handy little knick knack I almost forgot about, Harry. You hold it in your hand and it will gather facts about you, useful pieces of information which Severus can then learn. It takes things from your subconscious, things that you probably think are irrelevant but are no doubt integral to who you are,” Dumbledore replied. Severus raised his eyebrow at the tone he took towards Harry, whose expression became even more horror stricken and uncivil.
“I don’t get to choose what it takes?” Harry asked, Dumbledore shook his head. “Then I don’t want to do it!”
“Harry, what have I already told you?” Severus smirked when he saw that Dumbledore was growing more impatient and annoyed with the teenager. “You have to let Severus know all of your secrets, otherwise this won’t work.”
“But they’re secrets because no-one else is supposed to know them, Professor!” The boy practically yelled.
“Tough luck!” Dumbledore said, placing the Accluma into Harry’s hand. Harry looked as dumbfounded as Severus felt at seeing the usually patient and benign headmaster behave in such a forceful way.
Harry took on a dazed expression for a moment and then Dumbledore took the Accluma and placed it into Severus’s outstretched hand. He had learnt not to argue with Dumbledore in these situations. There was really nothing he could do so he might as well do as he was told. As he grasped the Accluma he had the most odd sensation. His stomach felt like it was inhabited by small fluttering creatures and little flashes of light seemed to be dashing across his eyes. It was taking all of his willpower to keep standing up straight.
It was over in a matter of moments and strange thoughts kept floating around his head. He liked pumpkin juice but he preferred butterbeer. His favourite colour was crimson. He hated summer. He loved Hogwarts but hated schoolwork. Severus shook his head a moment and looked at the boy these thoughts came from. There were so many things he would never have guessed at. Many things he’d rather not have known. He grew more apprehensive about this, wasn’t he giving the boy weapons to use against him? No, he had to stop thinking like this. He clasped the Accluma tightly again and concentrated. This time the feeling was completely different. He felt so light and airy, like he was floating up towards the ceiling. It stopped all too soon and before he knew it he was handing the Accluma over to an apprehensive looking Harry.