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 Thirty-Four: War

Too much had happened for anyone to think rationally. No one knew what was going to happen next and recent events were too horrible to be rationalized. The world shut down, except for the few groups who knew what had to happen.”

-Severus Snape

“Drink the damned potion Wood.” Draco shouted, holding the bandage over the man’s bleeding arm with one hand, and pushing a vial at his face with the other. If he drank it his blood would clot and he would see another day. If he continued to refuse he would be dead in a few minutes. Finally the obstinate young man relented and drained the liquid. Draco waited a few seconds for it to take effect, then pulled the scarlet cloth away and began to spell the gash closed. Wood glared at him angrily; the spells caused a small amount of pain.Draco snarled and left a scar that could have easily been avoided.

“Now get up, we have to keep going.” He stood and walked to the edge of the alley.

“We’re never going to find him in this Malfoy. He isn’t here.”

Draco swallowed, angry at having his fear pushed in his face. He closed his eyes, paused and turned to his companion. “But we are going to look anyway.”


Cornelius Fudge ran through the halls of the Ministry, flanked by aurors, trying to reach the emergency portkeys. His private one had malfunctioned, an anti-apparition ward surrounded the building, and death eaters were openly walking the streets. He was nearly carried by his guards, and could not have answered what was happening had his life depended on it.The portkeys were kept at stations throughout the building, and after the one in his desk drawer, the nearest was two floors away. Most of the workers had run to the streets—to the fight—but Fudge was running to safety.

It was, after all necessary to protect his life.

They managed to climb over the debris that had been an ornate statue, and halted abruptly before a small door. A auror ripped it open, wand at the ready, and surveyed the room.

He would not be allowed to enter until it had been cleared.

For his safety.

There was a shout a distance down the hall, and the Minister turned towards it. A tall figure, robed and masked watched them. His aurors ran forward, creating magical shields at the same time they made shields of their bodies.

Despite only being one man, he knocked several of the shields apart within a few seconds.

Corneilus Fudge was trembling, and falling backwards with uncertain steps. The world was falling to pieces around him.

A voice shouted his name, a voice that he vaguely recognized, and he turned, seeking salvation from the battle. He caught a glimpse of something coming towards him, and felt a tug behind his naval.


Fred and George Weasley ran a joke shop.They also worked for Harry Potter.

Their famous prank supplies were also scattered with more deadly devices. Their private collection was diverse, powerful and vast.

It was with these inventions that they entered the street a few minutes after the screams began.


Severus Snape and Charlie Weasley were grateful for their masks as they fought.They were fighting old friends, and their only hope at maintaining their positions within the Dark Lord’s ranks was to win, and win violently.

Charlie had already killed one of his classmates.

Severus was fighting a member of the Order who happened to have been shopping.

Children were weeping in huddled groups along the road, and Severus had been glad to see many children running towards Knockturn Alley.

It was, ironically, the safest location.

Its inhabitants had been—for the most part—warned of the attack, and had taken a holiday. The shops were of value to the Dark Lord, and he had ordered that the Death Eaters avoid harming that road. Unfortunately the training of childhood to never enter that street prevented too many from finding safety.

The Dark Lord’s plan was beautiful, no one could deny that sickening fact.

Diagon Alley was always busiest in the morning, security was thin, and, timed properly, the Ministry was full.

They attacked on a clear Monday morning. The four groups struck together. Two went to the Ministry, and two went to Diagon Alley. Every spell was cast at the same moment, and were being supported by entire teams.

No one could move in or out of the hidden streets.

No one on the outside even knew anything was wrong.

No one was coming help.

The Order had been given no warning, because the Dark Lord had told no one what was planned. They had merely been summoned at dawn, given their orders, and then sent to their assignments.

Lord Voldemort wanted to announce that the war had returned.

He wanted it to be loud, unforgettable, violent.

He had ordered a slaughter.

He was receiving one.


Dumbledore was sitting in his office, dozing, and pondering where Potter was hiding when Minerva burst through the door with a scrap of paper in her hand.“Albus this was delivered by owl a few moments ago.” Her voice was shaking.

I have granted your wish. There is no doubt that I have returned.

There was no signature. There was no need. Fifty years later, Albus still recognized his student’s handwriting.

The Order was in Diagon Alley ten minutes later.


I hate you Harry Potter. Draco knew that his hatred was born of the fact that he was cold, exhausted and bleeding from numerous cuts obtained pushing through the forest.

His feet were numb, and he was too tired to cast a warming spell. Most of his exhaustion was born of maintaining a disillusionment charm on Oliver Wood, who was hiding in Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. It had to remain up until the twins returned that night.

Dusk was already falling, but he was no longer certain it would hold even that long.

He and Wood had been exiting Gringotts, a meeting with the dwarves when the fight had begun. Wood’s stay in Azkaban had changed him enough that he could avoid recognition, but Draco had to immediately drain a vial of polyjuice potion Severus had given him.

They had rushed into the fray. It was how Wood had been injured.

They had hoped against hope that Harry would emerge in that fight to help.

He never did.

Now Draco was following the last lead he had in his search. Cleopatra bounded through the trees before him, happier with every step she took. Draco had flown after Hedwig for some time with Cleopatra in his pocket.

Eventually Hedwig had realized she was being followed and veered off course, but she had brought him close enough.

He had landed in a field and set Cleopatra on the ground. The tiny white cat had wandered for a few minutes before perking up, pawing at Draco’s foot in a beckon, and bounding towards the woods.

That was two hours ago, and she had not slowed down since.

He had.


Fenrir Greyback enjoyed hurting people.Especially those who opposed him.

Yes, it was still fun to hurt an innocent, there was pleasure in it, but the screams of the guilty were even better. Lord Voldemort had given him the right to play with his victims. It inspired more fear from the world, he said.

The man he now worked on was to be returned, alive, to Dumbledore as a message.

But a message was only effective if it was properly written.

Fenrir did not expect that his message would be misinterpreted.

Remus Lupin was lying in the dank cell, dreaming.

The Dark Lord had long ago discovered the value of dreams and the effect that they could have. It could shake a man to his roots, and he would never recover from the self-doubt and paranoia it could invoke. It made a man’s tongue loose, and made him weak.

Lupin was muttering about Potter, begging him to stop, to forgive, to help him. Abruptly Fenrir ripped the lycanthrope from his nightmare. He woke to yellow eyes inches from his own.

A few gasping breaths later, Lupin lashed out, trying to catch his jailer’s throat. Instead he hit his chest, lost his strength and collapsed.

The old gnarled wolf looked at the thin line of blood, snarled, and opened a gash across Lupin’s face.


Lord Voldemort sat in his throne like chair with Naigini wrapped around his feet listening to reports from Death Eaters.His plan had worked flawlessly.

Only half a dozen Death Eaters had been injured, one fatally, one superficially, the rest would not be of use for several weeks. The Wizarding world was frozen as rumors spread. He smiled and pet Naigini’s cool brow.

The man who had been reporting bowed as he finished and stepped back into the ranks. The next approached.

“We found difficulties in only a few patches, most of which centered around the Weasley joke shop. It seems that they have a vast arsenal of weaponry and defensive devices that they distributed to everyone they could find. They caused all of the injuries, and it is reported that they succeeded in saving many lives.”

A sneer curved his lips as he replied, “They will be targeted.” Dismissed, the man fell back into the ranks.

The Dark Lord glanced across the mass and found his next target. He gestured to the door, which opened silently, and admitted Ginevra Weasley. “It seems that your brothers have caused us some trouble.”

She parted the Death Eaters smoothly and dropped into a low obeisance at his feet. “I have no brothers, save those in this room.” She answered, waiting.

He smiled again. She had been given a more specific task than the others.

“Report.” He hissed.

“As ordered sir, I entered the Ministry shortly before we began this morning. As Lucius kindly distracted the Aurors, I drew his attention and threw the portkey. I activated mine and followed. I have saved the memory of his screams for you to enjoy at your leisure my Lord. He gave me what little information he had quickly, but was too foolish to die with the same alacrity. After a few hours I grew bored.

“They will find his body before nightfall.” She raised her head slightly. “They will find his head in the morning.”

Then Voldemort laughed, cold and penetrating, and he motioned for her to sit at his right hand. She knelt so easily it seemed she was made of water.

She was a useful asset.

He dismissed the Death Eaters, and grew impatient with their lengthy formalities.

It had been an excellent day.

“Rise.” He hissed in Parseltongue. She was not a natural parselmouth, but had learned much of the language, and obeyed immediately. Naigini was already slithering away.

He reached out a hand to touch her, and stopped.

A tremendous roar was growing in the distance, and moved closer with every breath.

The pair rose, and was ready to follow the sound when it came through the door. Lucius Malfoy entered first, and was followed by those Death Eaters who had just departed. They rushed to take their places, and buzzed with energy.

“What is this Lucius?” The Weasley snapped, intercepting him as he walked.

“My son has brought you a present my Lord.” He said with a bow to the Dark Lord. “I was retrieving him for the evening, and arrived just after he had discovered your gift.”

The room turned to see Draco Malfoy enter the room with an unconscious body floating before him. Draco stopped beside his lover, and allowed the body to continue. It was wrapped in a black cloak—Draco’s.

It was placed where Naigini had lain a few minutes before.

The Dark Lord looked to the pair, an extremely powerful pair, with a question in his face.

Draco Malfoy bowed low and announced, “I have completed the mission that the others could not.” He flicked his wand and the hood of the cloak shot back.

Lord Voldemort looked down at the scarred face of Harry James Potter, the boy-who-lived, and supposed traitor to the wizarding world.

No one spoke.

He raised his hand and gestured for the pair to sit beside him. They moved smoothly, and stayed there as a cheer rose among the ranks.

No one saw the tear balance for a moment in Draco’s eye. It never fell.


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