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.
Chapter Seventeen: Surrender

“Bravery is the greatest thing in the world. It will save you through anything, and will allow you to be not only a great and respected man, but also a man who is feared by his enemies. Bravery is going up against all odds, knowing you have almost no chance at survival, and still going of your own volition. It is a beautiful thing. However, it must be tempered with the idea that sometimes the odds are too great, and it is no longer brave to stay, only foolery. At that point I recommend a firm strategic retreat. A fast one.”

-Godric Gryffindor

Severus apparated into the large room as soon as the scar burned on his arm.

The Dark Lord rose from his chair and ordered them to discard their masks. They were instantly gone. Severus looked around and noted who was there.

Rodolphous. Goyle Sr. Goyle Jr. Zabini. Lucius. Macnair. Avery. Nott.

The inner circle.

It was important, whatever it was.

He choked on a gasp as the last person he expected to, appeared amid their ranks. Draco Malfoy looked at his father with a glare that screamed hatred, then turned and knelt before the Dark Lord.

“My Lord,” He said sleekly, “I answer your call.”

As the young blonde kissed the hem of his robe, Voldemort stepped away and the meeting began.

“Moments ago I received a piece of information that all of you have been searching for. You have searched for years, and you never found it. I am displeased with your work.” The Potions Master barely held his face in check as he panicked. It all came to what had been found, and who had found it. “Severus, come here.”

He walked forward, and gave a small bow, “My lord.”

“How long have you searched for the information of where Potter lives?”

Sweet Merlin… “Fourteen months, six days.”

“And in that time, what have you found?” He knew better than to answer, and concentrated on creating the proper lies in his head, arranging them precisely, and forcing his heart out of his throat. “Nothing, Severus. You have found me nothing. I am displeased that you were unsuccessful.” The fabricated memories fell into place a breath before Voldemort began to enter his mind.

Severus met his eyes and by a miracle, did not reveal any emotion.

False images of fruitless tiring searches, heavy warding, and unreadable files. Images of him slaving to find the information, and with only the thought of serving his Lord were pulled to the surface.

After several painful minutes, he was released, and left standing in the center of the room. “Unlike any of most here, one of you has managed to procure what I need. Lucius has found where Potter is.”

A collective shudder slipped through the group, and Snape nearly screamed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grimace on Draco’s face, but it was gone instantly, so fast it may never have been there at all.

“Number Four,” He continued, “Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Where he first appeared. Lucius, Zabini, Nott, Avery, Draco, Rodolphous. You will accompany me to the home, where we shall attack.”

Scarlet and Gold flashed in Severus’ mind and he stepped forward before falling to his knees. “My Lord, the wardings I have spoken to you of, they are very strong.”

“The Order has withdrawn support from the wretch.”

“But not the wardings. If I have failed you in locating the information of his whereabouts, please forgive me and believe the word of your most faithful servant. Ihave found record of the protections, I have passed all of it to you. Should you break the ward, both Dumbledore and the Ministry- floundering though it may be- will be alerted, and it would allow for a greater opportunity if-”

A wave of the Lord’s wand, sealed Severus’ mouth. Only a patch of smooth skin covered the lower part of his face.

Sneering icily, The Dark Lord gave orders for the others to retrieve the boy. They Disapparated, and then the other’s were ordered away.

Severus was still kneeling on the ground and remained calm as he was told, “Your loyalty is still in doubt. I must prove that otherwise. And remember, that if they fail, due to your counsel, I will be highly disappointed, I promise you.”

He nodded, and hardened the important secrets away in a distant corner of his mind, and waited for the spell to come.

His mind was again ripped apart, brutalized, and violently raped as knowledge of betrayal or disloyalty was sought out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lucius Malfoy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shit.

Harry closed the door quietly, and whispered, “Colloportus.” The door sealed with a squelch, and he knew that Lucius would have heard it.

He began to curse under his breath in a steady stream of obscenities that would have turned a sailor’s hair white.

He repeated the spell Tonks had used as she had packed his thing in the summer before his fifth year. His attempt was more successful. His things were flying into place and he blinked Hedwig and Cleo to the only place he felt was safe. Please let Neville know how to deal with them.

Harry’s heart was pounding heavily, and each beat caught in his throat and threw off his concentration. His mouth was dry, and suddenly every injury, every loss, every doubt he had ever harbored swelled, and tried to drown him. The room was spinning in his mind. Shattered by the introduction of the one thing he had been warned about, Harry could no longer concentrate.

Don’t let him know anything. Don’t let him find anything. Nothing. Don’t give in. Let him find nothing. Don’t let him bring back anything. Don’t give in. Don’t let him take me. Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

He could feel the hum of magic around him. The last of his items flew over his head and into the trunk. It locked itself.

His trunk shrank and flung itself into his pocket, anything of his was inside it, and now hidden.

He tried to apparate, and felt a ward stop him.

Don’t give in. Don’t give up. Don’t.

There was a vibration as his Imperturbable charm failed.

Harry whipped around, wand out, in full dueling pose, and watched Lucius step inside. The blonde who had used to tower over him, was now barely above him. With a mental wrench, he forced the panic into control, and held it in rein. He moistened his lips and hardened his glare. His calm bearing and cold attitude had reasserted themselves.

Don’t give in. The voice whispered, with a desperate conviction.

“Don’t worry, Potter, I have orders to bring you in alive. Rodolphous fancies a chat with you. So do others, actually. Just come along quietly.” The man’s silky voice barely made it across the room, but remained dominant nonetheless.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Hmm, Accio Glasses.”

Well, I think it is fair to, at this point, say, Double Shit.

He tried to concentrate on where the other man had been, and cast several fast and strong stunners at his best guess.

Unfortunately, Lucius was no longer there.

A faint poof was heard behind him, and then the same silken voice whispered, “Imperio.”

The spell was cast and hit him before Harry could turn. He relaxed as his mind slipped into the fog, and heard a silky voice asking him to hand over his wand.

Well of course he would. Why not. What did a stupid wand matter?

Harry’s mind rolled gaily through the fog, thrilled to be free of his hell, and was walking towards Lucius to surrender his wand.

Don’t give in.

Why not give the wand? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered! Everything was happy, and it would be so nice to stay in the surreal and peaceful joy of the fog.

Don’t give in.

The voice shook his happiness and he pushed it away, only to feel it come back, more pressing than before. Don’t give in.

He liked the fog, it was quiet, it was peaceful, there were no worries no doubts, no pain.

Don’t give in. The voice – it sounded familiar – cut apart his world. Don’t give up. Don’t give in.

His mind snapped back and he immediately summoned his wand with his left hand while casting an Ice Jinx at his opponent’s feet with his right.

Lucius stumbled, but cast a Heating charm that melted the problem away.

The pause was all Harry needed to step back regather his wits and fall into a full dueling pose. He was using the pose that Snape had in the Dueling Club.

Actually, the same one Voldemort used in my fourth year. He realized as Lucius surveyed him from the same position.

“Dear me, little Potter is starting to become more and more like his father every day. Soon you’ll follow in his footsteps, and end dead at the Dark Lord’s feet.” Lucius sneered. “Do you plan to do this according to etiquette?”

Harry barely moved, and made no response.

“What? Is the Honorable Gryffindor going to-”

“Locomoter Mortis.”

Lucius snapped into position, and Harry took a step towards him, lowering his wand to his side. As he move to take the wand, Malfoy moved, broke the spell with a screech like nails on a chalkboard, and shot him in the stomach with a spell he had never heard of and then with Expelliarmus.

While he was flying backwards he thought, How the hell do you break the full-body bind? Then he hit the bookshelves, and stopped really caring about magical theory. He fell prone to the floor. Then the bookshelf collapsed. First was an avalanche of books, old newspapers and broken toys, then came the shelf itself.

The books woke him up.

The shelf pissed him off.

He rose out of the mess and stood across from the older man, waiting for him to move. “What are you gong to do Potter? I have your wand.”

Harry blinked, and on instinct, so did Lucius. When the blonde opened his eyes again, Harry was directly in front of him, a sword in his hand. Godric’s blade had missed being packed and was humming with barely contained energy.

He raised it, prepared to strike, and felt a vibration.

As the Apparition Wards dropped it let out a small shock wave, enough to distract him for a few seconds. When he looked back Lucius was gone, and Harry’s wand was on the floor.

Four cracks were heard from downstairs.

He opened the door, looked out, and saw all of them gone.

Disturbingly drained from the bout with Lucius, he rested the point of the sword on the ground, and leaned on the hilt.

Looking around the room, he sighed, everything was packed save for the sword in his hand, and his wand – now in his pocket once more.

The bed had even been stripped of the blankets he had collected over the years. Weariness swept over him, and he collapsed onto the bed. “Well Padfoot, I don’t quite consider that a duel, it was far too short, but it was very exhausting. And entertaining. Books falling on my head. Bookshelves falling on my head. Anti-Apparition wards. Lucius breaking a full-body bind; I really need to ask Snape about that. However Dad, there is a serious – no pun intended Padfoot – advantage to being attacked by a homicidal convict slash Death Eater. If they know where I am, then I can leave. Should leave.”

Harry shifted to stand, and failed. “Or I could rest for a bit, that sounds nice too.”

He rested on the bare bed with the sword over his knees as his heartbeat returned to a normal speed. “I wonder what you can really do?” He asked as he fingered the lettering on the blade. “Very good for killing oversized snakes controlled by teenage boys with superiority complexes, yes, but I doubt you were put in the hat for that. What can you really do?”

Hesitatingly, he closed his hand around the hilt, and closed his eyes. Thinking back, he remembered a passage in one of the books.

Magical enhancers, or Asaekas are objects into which pure magic has been infused. They often appear to be sentient because of their abilities to become attached to those who need them most. Once created, it is almost impossible to destroy one. Pure magic is highly dangerous to wield and only the most powerful wizards should attempt to build one. They are oft times made with swords or knives as it is not uncommon to see a wizard carrying a weapon.

The strength of the enhancer is dependent entirely on the strength of the wizard. No matter how much magic is instilled in the Asaeka, it is capable of only as much as the user can draw from it. Therefore, a highly powerful wizard could be capable of drawing more energy than is available.

To control one the user must be in physical contact for at least the start of the spell, and though it is possible to later move away, the strain is usually unbearable. Concentration on the energy is essential, along with the incantation Objicarian. It is cast without a wand. At first the item may have an increase in temperature.

Harry tried to concentrate as he had been instructed. The nagging feeling that Godric’s blade was an Asaeka grew the more he thought on it, and he cautiously whispered, “Objicarian.”Light flared in the room, brilliant white and painful. The sword flared in his hand, and an etched design on the largest of the rubies burned its mark onto the center of his palm.

With a sharp intake of breath he threw the sword out of his hand, onto the floor. His left hand clenched around his right, where a black picture was still smoking softly. A thick Celtic circle no more than half an inch across with five dots surrounding it was sitting in his skin.

The pain was already fading, and he groped in his pocket until he found a vial of healing potion. He poured a few drops onto the injury, and shouted suddenly, dropping the vial, and not caring as it spilled over the floor.

His hand was rapidly becoming the only thing he could think about. The pain was humbling and it felt like steel splinters were moving beneath his skin as the marks grew and moved.

The circle expanded until it filled his palm, but remained perfect. The five dots were dragged around the circle until one was beneath each a finger. Only by a great exertion of will did he avoid screaming. A fine line emerged from each of them and traced the center of each finger, ending, pointed, on the pad of each finger with a thing ring surrounding the tip. At their base, they flared out, and the line was bulbous at the bottom.

The pain receded with the color, and a few seconds later, brilliant white marks were all that was left on his hand. Not even ridges.

His energy, whether thanks to rest, the sword, or adrenaline, rose, and Harry stood up, paused to coolly whisper, “Well that was a hell of a day, wasn’t it? Let’s do it again some time, shall we?”

Then he apparated away, to the only place he felt he had a chance at survival.

Severus knew when Lucius appeared sooner than the others that they had failed. When the remaining four appeared, his thought was confirmed. Potter was not with them.

An emotion bordering on pride filled him, and had he had his mouth he would have taunted the defeated blonde.

But he did not.

The Death Eater’s gathered around in a tight circle to watch their Lord fulfill his vow.

The world was dissolving into a blackened husk of burned torture and tears. He wanted to scream beneath the curse, but had no ability to do so. He dug his nails into his palms and writhed on the ground in a relentless hell.

A Death Eater was given an order, one that he had had expected, and Severus found himself unable to move. He was forced to kneel before his Lord and Master, and take the abuse given. His mind raced, his heart pounded, torture swept through him in waves and as his mind was once more raped, the lies remained solid.

Finally, the body-bind was broken, his mouth was restored, and he was ordered to leave at once.

It was an order he had no qualms about obeying.


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