Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not own JK Rowling’s world or plotlines. I do own my own plotlines and since this is being written about things JK has not yet published, most of the plotline is mine. However, my brilliant sister inspired the story, and I lovingly thank her for her contribution.

This one begins in Dudley’s Perspective.

Chapter Sixteen: Found

“Considering how uncommon and unpredictable his life was, considering his ability to manage to succeed in the impossible and have the improbable happen to him against all odds, it was not surprising to his allies that Harry managed to get attacked anyways.”

- from The Second Great War by Quentin Trimble and Bathilda Bagshot

Being drunk was nice.

It meant that Dudley Dursley didn’t have to think about school, or boxing, or his damned cousin, or his twice-damned parents, or about the nightmares that had plagued him since the attack last summer.

Therefore, being drunk was nice.

He and his friends all agreed on this point and at least once a week would meet up in an alley with whatever they had managed to scrounge and steal. For the most part it was cheap beer and whiskey, but, as they had learned, cheap did not mean weak, nor were they picky.

It was a little past nine, Dudley and Piers were the only ones of the group left, and in the darkening night, they were sitting in the alley by Piers’ house when a man in an expensive black business suit walked up. He sat down beside them and pulled out a bottle of his own, and took off the lid. He took a drink, and Dudley saw a silver ring flash on his finger in the half light.

“Who are you?” Piers said, miraculously managing to avoid slurred speech.

“It’s not important.” He said silkily. “Who are you?”

“It’s not important.” Dudley mimicked.

“Would you like some? I’m sure that what I have is far better than what you have managed to procure.” The man’s voice was like silk on glass.

Piers reached for the offered bottle, but jumped up as he heard his mother shout for him. “Sorry, Big D.” He said before scampering away.

With only Dudley and the man left, the bottle was quickly passed to the younger boy. “So what do you do? Most people don’t wander around drinking in a nice suit.”

“I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you know them?”

“What’s in it for me if I tell you about whoever this is?”

“Nothing but good I assure you.” Dudley shrugged and gestured for the man to continue. Instead the man, blonde, Dudley noticed, pulled out another bottle and offered it.

“This is even better.”

Dudley tried it, the haze of liquor not letting him see the fact that he was taking food from strangers, and drinking this unknown substance willingly. But even if he hadn’t been inebriated, he would have taken it. After all, he was just Dudley Dursley; it wasn’t like he was Harry Bloody Potter.

The drink was warm as it slid down his throat. The man hadn’t lied: It was better. A calm swept over him as he took another drink, and then the man spoke.

“What is your name?”

There was no reason not to answer anymore.

“Dudley Dursley.”

“Have you ever heard of, or met a boy called Harry James Potter?”

“Yes.” His voice was dripping with contempt.

The man sat up straighter and his eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Describe him.”

“Black hair, always a mess, and always grows back. Has a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, green eyes. He’s short and skinny, and he’s a wizard.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s my cousin. He lives in my house, and stole my second bedroom.”

“Where, good friend, do you live?”

“Number Four Privet drive. Just down the street.”

The blonde man rose lithely, and pulled a wooden stick from inside his jacket. “Obliviate.” He whispered. Dudley, blinked, and blinked again, not sure what was happening, then there was a flash of red light, and it no longer mattered.

=============

Harry James Potter sat on his bed, with Hedwig on one knee, a thick book in his lap and Cleo perched on his head. It was an altogether unusual sight, considering the absurdity of his life. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. As he replaced them, he continued to scan the pages of the index for his quarry.

Swordplay, was not, unfortunately, listed.

“Damn.”

Harry banished the book back to the bookshelf, and summoned an even larger book. The Dark Arts and How to Use Them flew from the shelf and into his lap. He flipped idly through it, uncaringly, and stroked Hedwig with his other hand.

Finally, as the tense boredom of the room stretched to an insufferable level, all three creatures jumped. Hedwig shot into the air and then into her cage, Cleo jumped forward to claw at an incoming owl, and Harry slapped his palm over his scar.

Hissing from pain, Harry tried to close his mind as he had been told to, but as suddenly as it had begun, it faded.

“Tom probably just killed someone, that seemed downright happy.” He commented to his pets. As he shook off the pain, he turned to the owl, and frowned. It was clearly from Hogwarts. He took the letter and sent it on its way, then waited for the remainder of his mail. For the most part it arrived at the same time, and holding with tradition, two more owls swept in. They dropped their letters and disappeared into the night. When Harry looked down he understood why: Owls were not particularly fond of Howlers.

With a smirk, Harry blinked, and they disappeared, reappearing suddenly, and about to go off, in the center of the Ministry’s offices.

Pleased with the chaos, and again making the note to ask Moony and Professor Snape about how he was teleporting objects without touching them, he opened the Hogwarts letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for the next school year. You must hold tryouts for all positions which are not already filled. If at anytime you are unable to fulfill your duties, a substitute will be located.

We are also pleased to inform you that the Educational Decrees and Decisions made by last year’s High Inquisitor have been completely voided, and your lifetime ban on Quidditch has been rescinded.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. You have been enrolled in all classes made available by your OWL scores.

Term begins on September 1, The Hogwarts Express will depart at 11:00 on the First from Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King’s Cross station.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

It was August tenth. “Well, won’t that be fun. Multi-hour practices with a group of people that probably hates me more than they hate Voldemort, and games against people who not only feel the same way, but, if they’re in Slytherin, will be putting out every effort to kill me. I’ll be taking probably around six or seven Newt Level classes. I have to deal with Snape in class. I have to deal with Malfoy. The entire school pretty much things I’m a psychotic homicidal maniac. The Ministry is after me, and I still have to find a way to train.” He paused. “You know, I really didn’t think life could get worse than last year, but, clearly, I was mistaken. Lovely. Simply Fucking Lovely.”

Cleo, sensing an oncoming emotional breakdown, jumped onto his shoulder and licked his cheek.

“I wonder why I’m captain. I’m probably the best for it, but I can’t see them letting me willingly do this. Accio book.” It jumped to his hand and he found the Age Spell he was looking for.

He quickly cast it, and laughed. It had been drafted before he had even received his OWL scores, and it was becoming obvious, that the school either couldn’t change their Captain decision, or they had forgotten. In either situation he could torture them with his position.

Harry sat contemplating how to purchase his new supplies, which, as he looked at the list were extensive, and began idly spinning his wand between his fingers. His cloak was out of the question. So was mail order: they had to have a name and a bank account, both of which could be tracked. Moony was almost as suspect as Harry. Snape had to maintain his visage of a greasy bastard. He wasn’t very good with Self-transfiguration, or with Disillusionment charms. Neville was a possibility, but it would put him in even more danger. Still, it was worth asking at least.

His musings cut off as the doorbell was rung. Harry jumped up and held his ear to the door.

Vernon complaining about late-night visitors. Petunia tittering about her Duddy-kins forgetting his keys. Vernon unlocking the door. Vernon opening door. Petunia screaming.

Harry tensed.

Vernon shouting. Vernon bellowing to know who they were.

Harry cracked his door open to hear better and listened with closed eyes and his heart in his throat.

“Who we are doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, Well what do you want?”

“We would just like to speak to Harry Potter. We’ve been told he lives here.”

“There is NO Harry Potter in the HOUSE. Get out! GET OUT or I’ll call the Police! I don’t want anymore of your FREAKINESS here!”

Petunia fainting.

“Exactly what are you speaking of?”

“You know what I mean. Your-” Harry could not hear what was said but knew it would be the dreaded, ‘magic.’ “Are you from that freak school of his? Or are you here to arrest him, maybe that sham Ministry you people have?”

“We are from neither.” Harry could not, for his life identify the voice.

“Then why are you here?”

“May we please come in? Thank you.” Footsteps entering the house. “We merely which to speak to Harry, perhaps take him off your hands?” Harry could hear the gears turning in his Uncle’s head.

His tone became businesslike, an much friendlier. “You want to take him then, eh? Well, who are you.”

“I’ll let he other’s remain anonymous for now, but I will happily introduce myself, that is, if you will agree to our taking the boy.” Vernon and the man must have shook. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Dursley. We will collect him immediately, and as to my part of the arrangement: My name: Lucius Malfoy.”


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