Of Herbs, Crowns and Soot by Tedi
Summary: During the 19th century London, Harry Potter falls down the chimney of the apothecary of one Professor Severus Snape; bringing with him dire inconveniences.

But not every family is found in blood, and not every story follows the same path. For Harry, Snape and Draco, the truth has never been harsher.

A Severitus AU, one without magic. A/N: Slow edits.
Categories: Healer Snape, Master Snape > Apprentice Harry, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Original Character, Remus, Sirius
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Controlling, Snape is Depressed, Snape is Loving, Overly-protective Snape, Snape is Secretive
Genres: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Hospitalization, Injured!Harry, Physical Impairment, Sibling Addition
Takes Place: 3rd summer, 3rd Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Physical Punishment Non-Spanking, Physical Punishment Spanking, Self-harm, Suicide Themes, Violence
Prompts: Chimney Sweep
Challenges: Chimney Sweep
Series: None
Chapters: 28 Completed: No Word count: 142312 Read: 33942 Published: 16 Jul 2020 Updated: 27 May 2021
The Adults Take a Tumble by Tedi
Author's Notes:
Thank you, absinthe, for the edits. :)

Some parts were taken from the original PoA book.

Enjoy!

Snape had left him in the hallway which was collecting more and more students as time went on (with very clear instructions to not move). At the end of half an hour, the teachers instructed all students, except first years, to enter the Hall. The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the candle lit ceiling when a voice called, "Patel!"

A few students turned with him to look up as well, though soon adjusted their glances and continued their conversations. Harry dived through the crowd, walking towards Professor Snape.

"Sir?"

"As you don't have a house yet," Professor Snape took him by the shoulder, often stealing glances at the crowd, "Sit towards the back of the hall with any familiar, or friendly, faces. If questioned, tell them I told you to sit there. Understood?"

Professor Snape nodded for him to continue, Harry hesitantly mingling into the groups of people. No familiar faces poked out from the crowd, and Harry took a spot at the end of the table closest to the door, awkwardly smiling at the older student that scooted to the left when he sat down. Fortunately, some members of the red-themed house seemed to notice him upon their entrance, and took the seats opposite and around Harry.

Harry pretended he hadn't seen Hermione pointing his way and whispering to Ron.

"So you're a Gryffindor now?" Ron asked, eyeing the plate in front of him. Harry had to admit, it looked better than most things he had eaten in his life, though he doubted anything could compare to Snape's culinary skills.

"I don't think so," he said, grinning tiredly when Hermione scoffed at Ron for tearing a piece of bread from the loaf, "How do they sort you into houses anyway?"

Ron shugged, glaring at Hermione when she slapped his hand, though made no grab for the bread again. Hermione shook her head, and turned to Harry, an occasional glimpse sending Ron's hand retreating, "First years come to Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer holidays for two months, so the teacher can catch them up on basic mathematics and reading, if they're not caught up already. From your behavior over the summer, and the Professor's evaluations, you get sorted into a house."

"Oh. What's the difference between them?" Harry asked, watching a few professors sitting down at the teachers' table, including Dumbledore.

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but the hall fell into silence. Harry looked up to find Dumbledore lowering his hand as, through the double doors, children filed into the hall with a stern looking woman who wore her hair in a tight bun, her sharp eyes framed with square spectacles.

Harry soon found out this was the sorting ceremony.

The children stood in front of the hall, while the stern looking woman read out the names of the children, and the houses they had been sorted into. Harry found it very boring, with the rain and soft candle flames tempting him to sleep.

The stern professor strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Harry placed his head down, closing his eyes, until Ron elbowed him in the side at the end of the clapping that had exploded through the hall.

Great old Dumledore stood from his seat easily. Extending his arms, he began to speak into the silence.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express-" his eyes flicked towards the crowd, searching, "-our school is presently playing host to some of the guards of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry

business."

He paused, and Harry remembered the guard on the train. He shuddered and clasped a hand over his arm.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the officials," he said.

Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound. "On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome a new teacher to our ranks this year.

"Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of the English teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Snape was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. Even Harry, who had some idea of the animosity between them, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing.

As the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away, Professor Dumbledore started speaking again.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

It was a delicious meal; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. At long last, when the last morsels of food had melted from the platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed. Hermione and Ron stood up, waving goodbye to Harry as they joined their other friends out the door.

Harry got some stares as he had continued to sit down, wanting to sleep in a bed more than ever with the exhaustion on his shoulders.

But with Harry Potter, it couldn't be that easy, could it?

Even from across the hall and without glasses, Harry could tell he needed to be seated. When the last person had left the hall, almost every professor started walking towards Harry, tightening the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He waited for them standing up, though Dumbledore's smile eased the tension of his shoulders, "A troubling train ride, I hear."

Harry smiled, not finding it funny, "Yes, sir."

"Well, come along, Mr Patel," Dumbledore said, eyes on Professor Snape and Patel, "There's a warm fire in the staffroom, I hear."

There was, and there was also the shocked expressions on all of the professors' faces as Dumbledore explained who Harry actually was. Harry felt like a child who had gotten into trouble, with Professor Patel and Snape on both his sides, their heads also bowed and the tea in their hands cooling.

Professor McGonogall -the physics teacher- actually wiped some tears from her eyes, making Harry feel guilty for some reason, while Professor Lupin who was standing furthest away from Harry actually stepped forward, staring at his face.

"So, he is Ali Patel during Hogwarts, yes?" squeaked the tiny little Professor Flitwick with a shock of white hair, the cup in his hand shaking and spilling tea on Professor Sprout's dress, a squat little woman with short, grey, wavy hair and a patched battered hat.

"I finally have some family other than my brother," joked Professor Patel nervously, her tea only a quarter finished. Professor Snape only stood silent, aggressively sipping his tea.

"Is there anything else you wish to ask?" said Madam Prompfrey, the school matron, who hadn't taken her eyes off of Harry since they had entered the staffroom and was told of the 'audacity of cheap, dunderheaded workers' (Snape's commentary).

"Yes," Dumbledore said, on his fourth cup of tea, "The sorting of Ali Patel."

Understandably, there was an argument.

Harry's parents were brought up for some reason by Professor McGonogall and Lupin both, arguing for him to be in Gryffindor. Flitwick, for Ravenclaw, and Sprout and Madam Prompfrey for Hufflepuff. Only Dumbledore, Professor Patel and Snape hadn't said anything, Harry downing the little drops of tea at the bottom of his cup.

Dumbledore intervened when the debate rose louder, holding up a hand, "Perhaps," he began, his robes brushing the ground while he walked towards the window, hands behind his back, " The Professors who have both spent time with him can assist us in deciding."

Both Professors Patel and Snape (the poor souls) straightened. Professor Patel, who already didn't make much eye contact, almost dropped the cold tea, and Professor Snape went rigid like a frightened animal. The glass still rattling in her hands, Professor Patel took a forced sip from the drink , and Professor Snape glared at his hands.

"Severus? My dear?"

Professor Patel swallowed her tea, grimacing, and cleared her throat, gesturing towards Professor Snape, "Professor."

"Ladies first, Professor," Snape said, not looking at her.

"Oh, I insist," Professor Patel said, tilting her head, "As the superior one in experience."

"You've sorted many more students than I have, Professor," Snape said, still not looking.

"You've taught many more students than I have, Professor," said Patel, also not looking.

Then, at the same time, "I insist."

They actually did look at one another over Harry's head once, before averting their eyes, each mumbling to themselves: Professor Patel to her cup, and Professor Snape into the air.

"Uh," Harry looked at them, smiling awkwardly, "At the same time?"

And, at the same time, where Professor Snape said Slytherin (which was a shock to everyone in the room), Professor Patel said a longer answer, which was a house in which the most prejudiced students (Snape did glare at her, for that) would have a harder time discriminating against him when his real identity was discovered.

"That is to mean no Gryffindor?" said Professor McGonogall dryly, which Professor Patel responded by taking another sip of her tea, which had to be freezing by now.

"My boy, earlier you said no to Gryffindor, and now claiming Slytherin would be a better choice," Dumbledore stepped between Professor McGonogall and Professor Patel, "What drove your change of heart?"

The sofa dipped further down. Beside him, Professor Snape had turned in his seat to look at him, eyes flicking down Harry's arm before rising to meet Dumbledore's, "Sirius Black has escaped, the Ministry has infiltrated the school and the closer I am to Potter, the more I trust myself to intervene with the bad luck that seems to attach itself to him."

"Are you saying we wouldn't be able to protect him, Severus?" the silent Professor Lupin said from behind Professor McGonogall, cup and saucer in his hands. The hand of Professor Snape clenched into a fist, but he raised a brow, lifting his chin, "I'd rather not have him in a house where one would assume him to be, sorely based on his lineage. In fact, I'd rather not have him anywhere near a place or a person-" then, there was silence in the room, and a cold touch to Professor Snape's voice, "-which, or whom, is known to have affiliations with a murderous convict."

Professor Lupin opened his mouth to answer, but dropped his words before he began.

"Don't tell me you just tried to defend him to me, Lupin."

"If this is about-"

Professor Patel clapped her hands, silencing the two men, looking around the room in curious wonder, "Oh, I do wish it would have been more simple. Don't you, Ali?"

"Oh, uh," Harry looked around the room, nodding at the touch on his back from Professor Patel, "Yes, yes. Every house seems very, uh, interesting, doesn't it. If only I knew what made every house unique."

"I think someone wrote a song about that once," Professor Patel said, scratching her chin, "Must have read it in a library book, though I don't remember which one. However, in gross simplification-" she gestured towards the teachers, smiling crookedly, "-Professors?"

"Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity and logic, Harry," said Professor Flitwick, pulling off his glasses, "The knowledge you have and gain, and who or what you choose to help with it."

"Loyalty, tolerance and patience isn't to be overlooked, either," Professor Sprout said with a warm smile, "You'll do well in Hufflepuff with kindness and understanding. "

Neither of them sounded bad, actually. Harry was curious enough, and having a house full of loyal, tolerant people was, perhaps, exactly what he needed.

Professor McGonogall cleared her throat, refusing an offer of tea, her stern lips lifting in a smile Harry was sure she didn't display often, "Bravery and confidence, chivalry and daring. Your parents took pride in being valiant, courageous people, Harry. I see you're not far behind."

Harry nodded awkwardly, "Thank you. And, uh," he looked up at Professor Patel, "What about Slytherin?"

All eyes turned to face Snape, who, again like a tired mother, pinched the bridge of his nose under their stares, "Slytherin is what you make out of who you are. Of your goals. Of the many times you've fallen to your knees, and of the times in turn that you've risen back up.

"Ambition is a good word. Determination, talent," Professor Snape looked down at Harry and the rest of the group before averting his gaze entirely, his messy hair veiling his face.

Harry frowned, scratching the sides of his forehead, "You think I'm Slytherin?"

"Well, nephew," Professor Patel chimed brightly, slinging a hand around Harry's shoulder, "If I'm Slytherin, there's no reason for you not to be."

The reality of Professor Patel having been in Slytherin aside, Harry looked down at his hands, the frustration building up, "Can't I just be in none at all?"

"Houses will help you build friendships," Professor Lupin said, putting his tea cup on the table and walking around the sofa to stand closer to Harry, "Close friendships. You've already met some students in Gryffindor, staying in the same house helps grow that friendship further."

Harry wrapped his arms around his torso, "I don't know. I wish I could be in all of them at once."

The arm around his shoulder coiled back, and Professor Patel scratched her chin, glaring at her shoes. The rest of the Professors were also talking amongst each other, discussing the best house to place the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Uh, Headmaster?" Professor Patel lifted her chin, hands on her lap. Dumbledore allowed her to continue with a nod of his head, "I mean no offence to any faculty member, but what if we left the choice to Harry, by allowing him to stay in every house throughout the year?"

"In every house?" Professor McGonogal asked, also looking up at Dumbledore, "Would the Board accept such a thing, Albus?"

"They may not, but we haven't given Ha- Ali the opportunity presented to the first year students," Professor Patel continued, the almost empty cup finally set down on a stable surface, "The goal is to keep his identity hidden for as long as possible. It won't be forever, no doubt, but if we can get Ali Patel to stay in every single house, give students from every single house to interact with him, when Harry Potter is finally discovered, wouldn't it be harder for there to be discrimination?"

Beside Harry, Professor Snape straightened his back, "There'd be less accusations concerning favoritism directed to the staff and school."

"Won't this be tricking the students?" Flitwick asked.

"It would be more than tricking the students," Professor Lupin answered.

"We already take two months to assess every student before making a decision," Professor Patel's tone held a hint of desperation, which she seemed to have noticed, and cleared her throat to relieve it of the tone, "Fifteen days for each house, that's not too bad. I think."

"Are all the professors in agreement on this?" asked Dumbledore the room.

There was a mumble of approval, confirmed by a nod from Dumbledore.

"Very well. Then Hufflepuff first, I think-" Professor Sprout's back straightened, "-Would that be fine with you, Professor Sprout? Very well. Though I must admit moving houses every two weeks might be troublesome."

"I can do it," cut in Harry, shrinking when the heads of the adults turned to him instead, "I mean, my trunk isn't very heavy, I think I can carry it with some help."

Harry didn't contribute to the rest of the conversation, because it was about the lessons Harry was supposed to take after school each day: Mathematics, reading, writing, history and geography. One hour a day after school, save for Thursday, which Professor Patel requested to be taken off, and Sunday. When that was finished, Dumbledore dismissed every teacher except Professor Snape and Professor Lupin.

Before Professor Patel left, she had something to say to Harry, however.

"I asked Thursdays to be free of any lessons, because I wish you to come talk with me once a week. Just an hour, is that alright?"

Harry nodded.

"In the meantime, try writing the things you notice. But if you have no empty notebooks, I will give you a journal. Alright?"

Harry smiled, averting his eyes shyly when Professor Pattel ruffled his hair, "Thank you, si- Professor Patel."

Finally, when it was just the two professors and the Headmaster in the room, Harry sighed, leaning back on the sofa, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"Where is Potter going to sleep tonight?" Professor Snape asked, tapping Harry's arm to get him to straighten his back when Dumbledore took the seat in front of them, asking Professor Lupin to take the spot next to him.

"I will ask Argus to arrange for bedding," Dumbledore said, watching the empty teapot as though if he looked at it long enough, it would be steaming with a fresh batch of tea, "In the meantime, I leave the arrangements to you."

"Yes, Headmaster."

The rest of Snape's words had come out in a lazy haze, like a sheet of water draped over Harry's ears. The sofa, soft, embraced him like a warm bed and the crackling fire brushed over his skin, a cozy blanket. The eyes he had desperately tried to keep open now weighed stronger than his will, and he couldn't be bothered stifling the yawn escaping his lips.

"Potter."

"I'm awake," Harry mumbled, lifting his head and rubbing his eyes, "Very awake."

"Remus," Dumbledore said, "Thank you for being patient this evening. But while you wish to explain everything I must ask…"

The words once more blended into the background, as senseless as the rain and the fire. This time, when Harry's head dropped, it met with not the sofa, but the shoulder of a professor who stiffened at the touch before easing, his body rising and falling with his breaths.

The rest of the conversation Harry didn't comprehend, switching between sleep and awake and trying to get comfortable, pulling his legs up and leaning his whole weight against the soft fabric beside him.

A hand on his shoulder shook him to the point of at least understanding simple words, urging him to a stand while still keeping both hands on his shoulder and arm. A deep voice mumbled something behind him, and started to steer Harry somewhere, the still firm lest he trip.

Harry didn't know where or how he slept that night - vague memories of a rough blanket, fabric wrapping around his arm and a faint touch pulling his hair back forgotten, come morning.

Hogwarts on September first was an absolute nightmare.

School wasn't on schedule, chores and timetables were being distributed and who could even keep in mind the amount of hallways you had to take to find your way around from one classroom to the next?

Harry couldn't. And he felt as confused as the first year student that broke down crying, claiming he didn't remember anything from the summer.

When Professor Snape had woken him up this morning, telling him to get ready for the exhausting day, he'd assumed he was teasing, as he often did, and dismissed it with nervous laughter while Professor Snape watched him above his mug, the steam clouding the humour in his eyes.

He hadn't been lying, or teasing, or any of the things he did to get under Harry's skin.

Harry's trunk was officially lost, and so was he.

Even the first years, who actually got sorted during the summer, had their trunks safely in their dormitories, looking over their timetables and the chores they would be responsible for throughout the term, while Harry had his head down on the end of the Hufflepuff table, ignoring the stolen glances the students kept sending his way.

"So you're a Hufflepuff now?"

Harry shut his eyes to keep himself from groaning, lifting his head and glaring at the wall before he composed himself enough to turn around, face neutral.

"You know, Malfoy," he said airly, turning around in his seat, rolling his eyes at the very new and clean school uniform, "These days I'm not much of anything, so it would be very beneficial if you left me out of your jibes."

Some students turned around to look at them, both him and Malfoy shrinking under the glances. Harry cleared his throat, straightening his back and purposely raising his voice to say.

"No, I'm not a Hufflepuff. Since I only came to Hogwarts for the third year, the teachers agreed to have me stay in each house for two weeks until they know where to sort me," he tilted his head, picking up a spoon from the table, "Happy?

Instead of turning away, even more Hufflepuffs turned to look at him, including the older student sitting beside Harry, ceasing the conversation he was having with his friend.

"Oh, you've certainly made my day," Malfoy said, waving a hand, making the person sitting on Harry's other side scoot over so he could take the spot instead, "Does that mean you'll come to Slytherin as well?"

The oatmeal wasn't very pleasant. It was hard and dry, but it was a small enough excuse for Harry to stay silent.

"You probably won't be in Hufflepuff."

"Wath?" Harry said, hitting his chest to help him swallow the food, "Why?"

"Call it a gut feeling, Patel. And before you say anything, you're not a Ravenclaw either."

"We just met two weeks ago," Harry argued, scoffing when Malfoy just shrugged, pointing out the bit of oatmeal he had dropped over his trousers before walking away, a smirk on his face.

"Trust me, Patel," he practically shouted, "Ravenclaw is the last thing you're going to be."

Harry used a bit of water to wipe away the oatmeal off his trousers, fuming while doing so, feeling the tips of his ears burn. What did Malfoy know about being a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw anyway? Not more than Harry, who was actually going to have a chance to be in all of them. Oh, he'd show Malfoy that-

"Is that really true?"

The bowl shook dangerously on the edge of the table from where Harry hit in in surprise, both his hands and the stranger's hand wrapping around it to stop it from falling.

"Uh-" Harry snatched his hand back, opening and closing them uncertainly, "-Thank you?"

"No, uh, I'm sorry for scaring you," the tall student next to him said, scratching his face and running a hand through his dark hair. Harry was about to argue that he wasn't surprised, but the boy spoke before he could get the point across.

"Cedric Diggory," the chiseled boy said, his bright grey eyes crinkling in a smile while he said, "Prefect. Professor Sprout didn't tell us you were coming."

"Recent decision," Harry said under his breath, taking Diggory's burly hand, "H- You can call me Ali."

"I didn't interfere when Malfoy sat down because you seemed to know each other," Cedric said, folding his arms on the table, "He did call you Patel though. Are you by any chance related to Professor Patel?"

Well, that was what everyone just had to ask, wasn't it?"

Yes, Professor Patel was his aunt. Yes, he just started Hogwarts now because of financial problems and yes, he really wasn't sorted yet.

And yes. He really was lost.

"Well, if you're done, let me introduce you to the third years," Diggory said, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Oh, I'd rather find my trunk-" he lifted a finger, then dropped it with a frown, "And you're gone," he finished by hitting his head on the table a final time before standing up, tagging after Diggory. As they were sitting near the end of the table, they had to walk up towards the front, where more younger students were situated. Curious eyes followed them, both Diggory and Harry, with some girls even blushing and turning around in giggles.

The third years, only five students in comparison to the rest, were not averse to staring either, one girl having followed them with her eyes since they had started walking towards them.

On approach, Diggory put his hands on his hips, all five students stopping mid-conversation, ears perked.

"Everyone," he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, a smile as bright as his eyes on his face, "This is Ali Patel. He'll be a Hufflepuff for the next fortnight. No, Finch-Fletchley, I haven't yet been told exactly why. Ali?" Harry hummed in response, frowning and leaning back when Diggory took him by both shoulders, "If you have any questions, any at all, you come to me. Understand?"

Harry nodded desperately, returning Diggory's wide grin with a forced, small one, rubbing his arm when Diggory left him awkwardly standing there, the staring students all averting their eyes when he cleared his throat.

"That's a very threatening way of telling someone you'll help them," he mumbled, earning a chuckle from a boy with curly hair and an almost Malfoy-exclusive pride to his face.

"Prefects," the boy with curly hair said, widening the space between him and the stout boy with blond hair, "So, Patel, are you-"

"Professor Patel's relative? Absolutely," he nodded, ripping a piece of bread, "So are you all the only third years?"

"Unfortunately," the curly haired boy said, his long sleeve covering his extended hand, "Justin Finch-Fletchly. Welcome to Hufflepuff."

"Thank you, I-"

Harry had extended his hand, expecting to hold a hand in return, with five fingers wrapping around his own.

Instead, he snatched it back with a cry of surprise, almost falling over the bench and hiding his face in embarrassment at the burst of laughter from the people around him.

"Mate," Justin lifted his hand, flexing his two fingers, "I think you took my other fingers in your surprise."

"I did not need that," Harry groaned into his hand, rubbing his eyes.

"He does that to everyone," the blonde boy said, patting him on the back, causing him to turn around, "Ernest Macmillian. Just call me Ernie."

"Right," Harry said, "Any more pranks I need to be warned off?"

The girl sitting on a wooden wheelchair leaned forward, tugging her long braid above her shoulder, "Even if there were, we wouldn't tell you, would we? Susan bones."

The girl beside her with curly hair and red ribbons to her frills was next, called Megan Jones, wearing a deep frown. The last one of the group was Hannah Abbot, pink-faced and blonde, who tried to extend a hand before pulling it back when she didn't quite make it, face flustered.

"You get your schedules yet, Patel?" Justin said when breakfast was over, sweeping his very clean shirt of invisible dust.

"I'll be lucky enough to find my trunk," Harry sighed, smirking when Justin offered to kindly lend a hand.

"Seriously," Justin and Ernie followed him down the space between the tables, the girls following them on the other side, "Do you need help?"

"Well, I reckon you know this place better than me," Harry shrugged, the chatter dying away as they left the hall.

Susan rearranged the blanket over her leg, "We have an hour before we have to start with the chores, Justin."

"How long can it actually take? We'll start with the first year piles. Come along."

In the end, the trunk was still, truly, missing.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Are you having fun? I am. I am having a thrill imagining all the the coming up chapters. I think we can say we've reached the middle of the book, I hope. No matter how much I plan, in the end I still go with the flow.

Keep your feet warm this winter and if you can, get your flue shots too.

Salam :)


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