Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Last chapter: They catch a snidget, which Harry has named Snidgen.

“...There are such powerful, protective potions that can be made, with just a bit of snidget fluff... potions that the enemy would never expect... This snidget may be a chance where there was none. It may be the difference between life and death.”
The Parent-Teacher Conference

Harry woke up very excited to meet his new friend, Snidgen the snidget. He remembered trying to stay awake last night, and then he must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew it was morning. He thought he'd heard Snape tell him last night that Snidgen was caught, but he could have been dreaming.

Throwing off the covers, Harry didn't even bother to get ready before rushing out of his room, then down the hallway, down the stairs, and to the kitchen.

There against a wall was the birdcage, covered with a blanket. Harry held his breath as he lifted one corner of the blanket, peering under it.

A small golden bird zoomed around in the cage, its motions quick and restless as if searching for an escape. Its body was fat and round like a ball. The snidget suddenly hovered in the cage before Harry, peering at him with tiny red eyes, its wings a blur. Harry regarded its rounded body, and its small, long beak before it flittered off, searching for an escape again.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked, striding over to tug the blanket away from Harry and back down over the cage.

“Looking at Snidgen!”

“Leave it alone for now,” Snape said, bending over so that he could look at Harry extra sternly. “It's newly caught and needs to calm down for a few days. We don't want to exhaust it, now do we?”

Harry shook his head and allowed himself to be lead away from his new pet.

“Go on up and get dressed. And straighten your room. No doubt it is a mess.” Snape knew that it was messy because he saw it last night when he put Harry to bed, but there was no reason to let the boy know. “And ask before even thinking about looking at that bird again.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry answered, trudging up to his room. Having a bird was a lot less exciting if he couldn't even look at it, or play with it.

That must change.

---

By the time Harry got to his classroom he almost forgot about Snidgen. That was because one of the boys was picking on Benny, the smaller nerdy boy who looked to Harry for friendship and protection.

Benny was an easy target. He was a nice kid, but the other children couldn't see much beyond his glasses, inhaler, and clumsy playground skills. It didn't help that he was a bit smaller than the other children too, and didn't have any cool things to show off. Even though Harry wasn't too keen of him, he couldn't help but be a friend to him.

Bobby, a large boy who Harry thought of as the classroom bully, tried to steal Benny's glasses. Of course, Harry couldn't help but intervene. Before it got out of hand, their teacher Ms. Kincaid came and made everyone sit down, giving everyone involved a demerit for being rowdy.

Ms. Kincaid was their only teacher now. The young, brown haired woman took over the class after the old Ms. Alkins stopped coming. The old teacher was in the hospital sick with something but was supposed to come back next week. Harry thought that Ms. Kincaid was nicer than the older teacher, less stern, but the class was more rowdy now and some of the children tried to make trouble. Like Bobby.

Harry rarely got a demerit, but when he did he thought that it was worth it. Surely Hoppity would too. Snape probably wouldn’t, and would probably make Harry help prepare some gross potions ingredients, so Harry would make it a point not to tell him.

The rest of the morning went fine until lunch. His lunches got better and better every week because Hoppity talked with the other mums while Harry was at soccer practice and learned what the other children got. Harry really loved how much she thought of him. It must be what having a mum was like, someone to think about your lunch, give you treats, rub your hair, and be nice.

Hoppity always gave Harry extra food in his packed lunch. He loved that too. He thought he remembered what it was like to not have enough to eat.

As Harry went through the items in his lunch, Bobby walked by and tried to steal one of Harry's desserts. Harry was too fast for him though, and snatched everything up before the bully could get anything.

“Hey, this is mine!” he yelled, gaining the attention of the lunch aides and getting Bobby in trouble.

As punishment, Bobby had to stand by the lunch aides for the first half of recess.

When Bobby was released, he was mad and looking for Harry.

The larger boy picked up a ball, and once Harry was in range he threw it at him. Harry evaded it easily, but Benny wasn't so lucky.

“Ow!”

“Stop that!” Harry yelled, incensed at how the bully was treating the smaller boy.

“Stop what?” the bully taunted.

Harry clenched his hands into fists. He wanted nothing more to pummel the bigger boy, and tell him that he was a big, fat bully! To stomp his face in. He deserved it. But no...

Maybe he could frighten him with magic, but no, he couldn't do that. It was a big mistake to use magic around people who didn't have it. What to do then ?

Nearby, Benny watched everything warily and took out his asthma medication. Harry knew that he could walk away from Benny, break their friendship off and the bullies would leave Harry alone to go after the other boy. But Harry could never do that. Never.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave us alone?” Harry demanded.

The question caught the larger boy off guard. Then he thought for a minute. “How about we play a game? If you win then I leave you alone, but if I win then you do whatever I want.”

“Fine. What game?”

Bobby smiled as only an evil six year old can.

The boys haggled over what game to play before discovering that they were both on soccer teams.

“Soccer, then,” Harry challenged. “When my team plays against your team.” He knew that his team would win, they were the best!

“Okay,” the bully agreed smugly. “When I win both of you have to stand in front of the ball wall and get hit with the balls when anyone gets out.”

Harry glanced over at the wall. The children there played a sort of hand ball, and if they touched a ball without catching it they had to run and touch the wall before the ball hit it or they were out. If they got out enough then they stood at the wall while the other children threw balls at them. It didn't happen often, and when it did the lunch aides usually told them to stop.

“Fine,” Harry said. “But until then you have to leave us alone. All the time.”

The bully wasn't happy about that but he agreed. “Fine. Can't wait,” he said with a threatening smile as he ran off to join some friends.

Nearby Benny was looking at Harry with a scared look. “Why'd you do that Harry? Now I'll have to stand against that wall and get hurt! I don't want to get hurt!”

“No, it won't happen! My team will win and then he'll have to leave us alone. And until I win he'll leave us alone too. It's great.”

Benny swallowed and dug the toe of his trainer into the crumbly blacktop. “Do you really think you'll win?”

“Yeah, of course!” Harry wasn't worried. He knew that his team with Michael would win and then Bobby and his goons would have to leave Harry and Benny alone. Michael was a great player, and they had lots of star players on their team, Harry heard some of the mums talking about it. They could win everything!

“Okay,” Benny said in a small voice. “But if you don't, let me know, okay? So I can stay home.”

“Bennnyy... I'm going to win. 'Sides, the ball wall probably doesn't even hurt. They got terrible aim.”

Benny snickered.

“Let's go play.”

The rest of the day was uneventful in comparison. They did the most boring math in the world. He finished so quickly that Jenny accused him of cheating.

Afterward he wrote another story, but he noticed that he wrote a lot more than the other children in his group. He was quicker, and the few words he did write looked neater than most of the other children around him.

Harry wondered if he wasn't doing a very good job of being a normal little boy today. It was frustrating because he didn't want to be different, but he also didn't want to act differently than what he was.

He knew that he'd feel better at soccer practice though. It was the one place where he felt normal, accepted. Harry didn't have to try to do bad there, he could try his best and still fit in. His best friend Michael was on his team too, and all the children liked him. There were no bullies there.

---

That afternoon, Severus Snape made his way to Harry's classroom for something called a Parent-Teacher conference. It sounded horrid, and Severus thanked Merlin that nothing like it existed at Hogwarts.

He shuddered at the thought of wasting countless hours meeting with each and every student's parents to discuss the achievements of their offspring, or in most cases their lack of achievement.

He'd probably get sacked.

It should be interesting hearing about Harry though, and just what mischief the brat was up to while at school... perhaps make the teacher squirm. It might even be enjoyable.

The twit and the boy were at football practice with a ride from the neighbors. Smirkett was torn between the two tasks, but when given the choice, Severus much preferred to go to the mandatory parent-teacher conference than babysit the boy and play nice with the Muggle American family two houses down. Afterward, they were planning to stop for pizza on the way back. Snape was not a fan of football or pizza, so the choice to go to the school instead was an easy one to make.

He hoped he would not regret it.

Severus sneered at the colorful cartoon characters on the walls of the school, and made his way down a hall filled with children's drawings. It was no doubt a very happy place. The Headmaster would have loved it had he seen it and requested the same be done in the dungeons.

Severus would be sure to never tell him about it.

Potter's classroom was almost at the end of the hall. Snape entered and was immediately greeted by a young woman who introduced herself as Ms. Kincaid, “I'm Harry's teacher. As you know, I took over for Mrs. Alkins. Thank you for coming.”

The Potions Master took in the tiny chairs and desks, grouped in sets of four, the colorful posters on the walls, and hundreds of children's art projects scattered on every available wall space. The artwork was even taped along strings or rope running across the space above the children's desks. Colorful books and toys were crammed into every available shelf.

“Delighted to meet you,” Snape said, trying to appear pleasant while being tortured with such surroundings. “Yes, I'm Harry's... father.” What a strange thing to say, and yet he was slightly pleased at being able to say it.

James Potter must be kicking and screaming in his grave. The thought made Snape smile.

“Let me show you around...”

Snape followed the young teacher as she showed him the classroom, and the particulars Harry enjoyed before showing him where the boy's desk was.

“Harry sits here,” she told him as she pointed out the “Harry” name tag taped to the top of the desk. She pulled out some of Harry's work from the desk's cubby area to carry with her.

“Let's sit in some of the larger chairs,” Ms. Kincaid suggested as she led Snape to the front of the classroom. To Snape’s relief the chairs there were adult sized and not the horrid colors the children’s chairs were. He would of outright refused to sit on one of those tiny contraptions. The teacher put Harry's work on a nearby table before sitting down herself.

“Harry is a delight to have in class. He is very obedient, and willing to do work.”

Snape had to keep back a snort. Harry Potter, obedient?

“He also tends to stand up for some of the other students. He is kind and has a strong sense of justice. You must be very proud of him.”

“Very,” Snape answered carefully, wondering at this new information. He shouldn't be surprised though. For as long as Snape knew him, Harry was always trying to get into the thick of things, putting himself in danger to save others. Harry was a naturally troublesome child who tended to do things others praised him for. Snape wondered what the child had been up to in this Muggle classroom.

“Has he got into any trouble?”

“Well... no more than any other children his age. He has a couple of demerits, but I'd say that he is one of the most well behaved boys in the class.”

“Demerits?” Snape asked, wanting more information about Harry's trespasses.

“Demerits are one way we warn the children of their bad behavior. If they get more than three demerits a week, we request a meeting with their parents.”

“And what did Harry do to earn these demerits?”

“Hmm... let's see.” The young woman pulled out a notebook and flipped through it. “The first one was during his first week for trying to wander out of the classroom during lunch time.”

Classic Potter.

“I don't think he knew the rules. Apparently he was trying to find the bathroom.”

Snape folded his arms. “And the other ones?”

“For rowdy behavior. The boys tend to get that often.”

“I see...” Snape said. Nothing too bad then, typical childish behavior. If they weren't trying to fit in so well, Snape would have a talk with the boy about his behavior. As it was, it probably helped Harry to appear more normal and so, Snape would allow and ignore it.

“Your son is a very smart child,” Ms. Kincaid informed him.

“Oh?” Was Harry unfairly using his years of experience and education to show off? Was he capable of doing that with the potion that changed him?

“Yes, he learns quickly and is able to complete every assignment. He should have no trouble transitioning to the next grade.”

Snape smirked. Well they should hope so, if Potter was about to start his sixth year at Hogwarts.

“Harry seems to be particularly good at math. He is usually one of the first students done with the math assignments... Sometimes I think he may be bored. Have you noticed this at home at all?”

“I can't say that I've noticed,” Snape replied. “He does not do math around me.” Besides counting flobberworms, or how many beetle's eyes he's harvested. In fact, if he had to go off of the boy's past performance in potions, he'd have to wonder about the boy's ability to count correctly.

“I'd like to set up an appointment to test him... see if we can get some more challenging work for him.”

Snape thought about that for a moment. It would not be good for Harry to be any more different than he undoubtedly already was, and they were not planning on staying around for much longer. Perhaps he could somehow put off her request long enough that she would forget about it. “I will ask him.”

The teacher nodded, it was not the answer she wanted to hear, but it was better than saying no.

“He does seem to have trouble in other areas, however.”

“What areas?” Snape demanded.

“Focusing, for one. I am not sure if he's bored, or thinking, but he often finishes early, or stops in the middle of something and stares off into space. Frankly I'm concerned. And it's not just that that I'm concerned about.”

Snape watched intently as the young lady pulled open Harry's folder and started to lay some of the work out on the table for him to see.

His eyes caught onto the pictures of what were probably dinosaurs, hearts, unicorns, snakes, blobs of... something, and people. The scribbled people, a boy with a red scar, nearly cleaving his head in half in every picture he was in. Then he saw the dark, black circles, swirls of crayon. Why would the boy draw that? Was it supposed to represent something?

“I don't understand,” Snape told the teacher. “It just looks like a child's drawings to me.”

The teacher pulled out something from the back of the pile, a collection of papers stapled together filled with childish writing and drawings.

“I'd like you to see this. We have been working on writing our own stories in class. Mostly it is an opportunity for the children to draw pictures in a logical progression. This is Harry's story.”

Snape picked up the packet of papers and started to look at the pictures, the few words and occasional, very short sentence.

The little boy with dark hair and a red scar featured prominently, it was obviously a representation of Harry.

There were lots of monsters too, trolls by the looks of it, and a giant snake. But it was the trolls and how they were depicted that made Snape worried himself.

Or rather, how the little boy was depicted with the trolls.

The trolls were large, their heads small with tufts of yellow hair. They had big fists and feet. Two of them had even bigger stomachs. One was holding a club, another a frying pan. A third was holding the stick-figure version of Harry by the hair, a fist pulled back as if to strike. The little boy's face looked frightened, the mouth open in a big “O”, and there were blue tear drops falling off his face.

Another picture had the little boy in what looked like a black box off to the side. The trolls were outside, dancing, and eating huge slabs of meat and what looked like birthday cake (he could tell from the candles) and there was blood beneath them. The boy was still crying.

Snape flipped through the rest, noticing more trolls, blood, possible magical creatures, and a sword. It was quite the violent tale. Tears were a reoccurring theme.

He wondered at what it meant. Was it just a story? Some event from Harry's life? Severus knew that Harry had faced down a troll before, but it was only one, and as far as he knew the boy had not even been injured. It seemed more fiction than fact. Yet the emotions in the little boy were plain to see.

Severus covered up a snort at the picture of a giant snake with three big lumps in it, a decapitated troll head off to one side with blood pooling beneath it. A sense of justice, indeed.

Harry faced a giant snake in his second year, dreamed about one in his fifth, but no snake Snape knew of ate three trolls, not even the basilisk...

The last page had the boy again, smiling with the lumpy snake and some weird creatures – were they unicorns? Whatever they were, they had red manes and tails. All of the characters were holding some brown triangles. Severus had no idea what those were. Fruit, perhaps, the brown triangles were on some trees as well.

It was a puzzling story. Worrying, yes, but in that vague warning sort of way.

Snape looked up to see the teacher regarding him carefully. No doubt, she thought Harry traumatized in some way based off of the drawings. She was probably correct. No six year old would not be traumatized with the sort of things fifteen year old Harry kept in his unconsciousness. Even the most benign magical hex could bring nightmares in a child who didn't know better.

He had hoped that those would all be repressed, but apparently something was coming through, if the drawings were an indication.

Severus glanced around the classroom full of happy drawings of dinosaurs, flowers, suns and rainbows, and families. There was an absence of trolls, and blood in the other drawings around the room from what he could see.

Snape cleared his throat. “Yes, I can see why this might be worrying.” He then prepared himself to explain himself, and Harry out of this.

Ms. Kincaid regarded him, apparently waiting for more enlightenment on the matter.

Snape wasn't sure what to tell her. “I am not sure where it all comes from. Harry is very imaginative. I'm sure you've noticed.”

Ms. Kincaid nodded.

“I wonder if I was not vigilant enough, if he got into some grownup horror stories he wasn't ready for.”

The teacher pursed her lips before placing her hands on the desk, clasping one into another.

What else could he say? “As far as I know, Harry has not encountered such violence in his life. He is a sheltered, happy little boy.” Think, where could the images have come from? “He does play some games, there is a game console on the television… and I don’t know all the programs he watches on the telly as well. Perhaps he came across a story like this, and recreated it with some embellishments.”

Ms. Kincaid stayed silent, and Snape would be breaking out in a sweat if he wasn’t so good a spy. This young teacher had nothing on Voldemort’s interrogations, yet Snape felt uneasy and worried at the situation he found himself in. He also had some foreboding as to Harry’s mindset and coping with his repressed memories. Obviously the boy needed more targeted help if they were coming out in such a fashion, likely scaring the teacher and other children if the story were shared.

“I shall ask his mother,” Snape said, referring to Harry’s adoptive mother for the summer. “Perhaps she will know where this came from,” Snape waved his hand over the makeshift booklet. “May I take this home to ask her?” And hide the evidence away from Muggle prying eyes. They did not need another visit from child protective services. Although, perhaps he should Obliviate her if there was any indication she might think of involving them.

“Of course,” the teacher graciously allowed, but did not seem content to leave it at that. The teacher motioned to all the drawings of Harry, “As you can see, tears are a prominent feature in nearly every drawing of the little boy. Harry is expressing sadness, or pain. Is there someone in Harry's life who might of hurt him?”

Snape sighed. Time for some elegant truth wrangling. “As you know, we did move here recently.”

The teacher nodded, all ears for an explanation.

“Part of the reason why we moved to this particular location is because of your school. It has a glowing reputation, and since it meets year round, Harry always has a safe place to spend his day with other children and caring staff.” A little bit of flattery, and now for some sympathy. Snape leaned forward and lowered his voice, noticing that the teacher leaned forward too, “I’m afraid that the last people we entrusted to watch over Harry were not kind to him.” Snape opened the book to where the three trolls were introduced, “In fact, they rather looked like this.”

The teacher had a look of surprised alarm, and Snape hastened to explain. “As far as I know, they were neglectful, and at times verbally unkind, but never physically harmed him in such a manner.” A half-truth, Snape had seen the bruises, Harry had admitted to them, but never was a club and a frying pan mentioned. “This… tale worries me and makes me wonder if they had...” Snape played up the character of the worried father for his son. “I shall have to ask him and find out.”

Ms. Kincaid reached out, and placed a well-meaning hand over Snape’s in a comforting manner. “Regardless, it may be a good idea to look into some counseling for your child.”

Snape merely nodded.

---

When he arrived home, Snape took a couple of moments to compose himself before leaving the garage. If he played his cards right, perhaps he could get Harry to explain the drawings easily, without noticing anything amiss.

The boy and Smirkett were likely to be still out though, socializing with the Muggles. Snape opened his pocket watch to be sure. It was the pocket watch Dumbledore had given him near the beginning of summer, not only did it tell time, but it gave the status of anyone added to it. For now, the clock hand with Harry’s face was firmly pointing to “Away but safe” and not the nearby “Up to mischief,” or the more alarming “Danger,” “Mortal Peril,” or “Death’s door” selections that Snape hoped Harry would never visit on his time piece. Only this boy would necessitate such distinction on a watch.

There were other areas listed on the watch, and Snape learned that some areas could come and go, or move about, based on the activities the boy engaged in, or places he frequented. For now it listed on the face “Home,” “School,” “Traveling,” “Playing,” “Shopping,” “Lost,” and “Needing attention.”

It was very useful, Snape had taken to checking the watch periodically, to discreetly see what the boy was up to. He wondered if Dumbledore had done the same while Harry was at Hogwarts, or before that when the boy had been staying with his Muggle relatives.

Snape tucked the pocket watch away, and went to check on his newly acquired Snidget. The bird was still in the covered cage, Snape could hear it fluttering about. The water dish was full but messy, and the food dish still had some grubs and bits of seeds from produce, but much of it was gone. The bird had a fast metabolism, and much of Snape’s larvae supply for his potions making was already eaten. The floor of the cage already had feces material, and Snape was excited at the prospects of potions he could try with this new ingredient. Eventually, bits of the bird’s downy under feathers would shed, and he could use them as well.

In time, perhaps the bird could be domesticated and preened by his hand, but for now, Snape was content with the bird’s discard and waste. What the bird would shed in the cage would be more than enough while he sorted through which theoretical potions might benefit from these new ingredients.

In a couple of days he would start putting his hand into the cage and leaving it inside for some minutes, accustoming the bird to his presence. He would have to find where to buy larvae and mites as well. Perhaps a fishing store? Maybe the pet store would know where to go. Keeping to the bird’s natural diet would be best, he assumed it was like a hummingbird’s, as the snidget had a similar beak. Perhaps he could get some flowers.

Snape summoned his working potions journal, intending to read through those potions while he waited for Harry and Smirkett to return home. Perhaps have some tea as well to reward himself after braving Potter’s childish classroom.

At the table is where Harry and Hoppity found him later, when they arrived from their outing. Harry was busy chatting away, regaling Hoppity with his childish escapades.

“-And we’ll win the next game too, and the one after that. We’re the best and Michael is so good, I just know we’ll win.”

“I’m sure you’ll all do very well,” Hoppity said, smiling, and bending down to give Harry a fond pat on the head. “Now, come sit down, Harry-bean” she said as she led him to the kitchen table. The boy beamed at the attention and praise.

Snape put away his potions journal and quill.

“How did the meeting go with Harry’s teacher?” Hoppity asked, sitting down at the table and helping herself to the still warm teapot.

“Fine,” was Snape’s first answer. “She said that Harry was… obedient and very smart.” Green eyes looked at him hopefully, but warily. “He is fitting in well with the other children, even as far as getting some demerits.”

“Demerits?” Hoppity turned to look at the embarrassed little boy, who seemed rather keen to stay silent.

Snape decided to rescue Harry, in hopes that it may make the boy more amiable to his later questions. “Yes, apparently it is expected especially for the male members of the class. Harry has neither too many nor too few to stand out. Well done,” he added in Harry’s direction.

Young Potter seemed shocked at the unexpected praise and his pretend mum added her congratulations as well, patting the shy boy’s hair fondly.

Snape continued, “He has done a little too well in his classwork, the teacher seemed to think he might be bored and wants to see how much he knows, which of course we will not be pursuing. It would be the very opposite of fitting in if she found out he could do maths years beyond his agemates.”

“I knew you were bright,” Smirkett beamed, and Snape had to suppress his snort as Harry’s face reddened in embarrassment. One would hope the deaged golden boy could manage such things as simple, basic maths or the Wizarding World was doomed.

Snape did wonder though just how much the boy retained, and how much knowledge he had as his older self to retain from. If Severus had more than a summer to care for the boy perhaps he would put in enough effort to discover such things, but there were far more pressing matters to see to first.

“We looked at some of Harry’s work, and I thought you might want to see something yourself since you could not be there to see it all.” Snape pulled out Harry’s story from where it was hidden underneath his potions journal, and placed it between his two surprised companions. “According to Harry’s teacher this is a story, some recent work. Perhaps the boy can explain it to you, there are not many written descriptions due to the children’s age.”

Hoppity seemed delighted at the prospect, Harry seemed shocked and looked owlishly up at Severus. Snape purposefully avoided the green eyes and picked up his tea cup, taking a deep draught and appearing uninterested. Of course, the master spy was paying attention to every word but the boy would share more if he did not expect anything amiss.

“Oh, will you tell me about your story, Harry-bean? I’d love to hear it.”

The boy smiled up at his temporary mum and eagerly sat up, pointing at the first page.

Snape opened his potions journal to appear uninterested to the others when he was in fact intently listening to every word. He readied his mind to take note of anything that might clue him in to Harry’s mental state, or the boy’s living conditions outside of school.

He could ask questions later, once he had more information and ideas of what to ask about.

To be continued...
Chapter End Notes:
I can't believe it's been SIX years since I last updated! I'm so sorry! Don't worry, the story is not abandoned. I will try to update at least once a month from now on until it is finished.

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