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 Six: Rights

“You want to do the impossible?”

“Yes.”

“Then do the unpredictable, the rash, the idiotic, because if you're lucky, chance will be on your side, and you’ll succeed...It’s the theory I use every day.”

-Taken from a conversation between Harry Potter and Severus Snape

“Pick yourself up off the ground, Potter. The ground may be comfortable but you need to be standing. Up, now.” Harry’s head was swimming. He was confused and tired. His head felt like it had been beaten. Snape had shown up and told him something. It was important, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He concentrated and the thought sprung to life in his mind.

Remus. Something had happened to Remus.

Harry flung himself up from the ground. It made a rush of blood flood his head, and he nearly fell back down, but will power prevented it. As he clung to the wall, he looked around trying to identify his location. There were portraits on the wall of a deranged woman in black. She woke and opened her mouth to scream obscenities, but Snape closed a long curtain with a flick of his wand. He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him down a hallway to the kitchen where, on the table, lay an unconscious man.

Remus was paler than usual, paler than he had ever seen him. Even the moon failed to remove so much from the man. The few wisps of blonde hair had finally succumbed to gray, and his skin felt cool.

“Is he dead?” Harry asked in a flat voice.

“No, but close. If he wasn’t a werewolf, he would be.” Snape moved to a cauldron in the corner. “Gather those newts’ eyes in the bucket, and bring them here.” Harry stepped to a large wooden tub, big enough to house twenty or thirty gallons. Inside it, instead of the water he expected, were half a dozen bags of slimy gray spheres. He picked them up and handed them to Snape before allowing his gaze to return to Remus.

Snape scoffed over some action of Harry’s but the noise was followed a breath later by the low ‘poof’ of the potion finishing. In a small vial, it was brought to Remus’ lips and forced into his mouth. He sputtered, and spit it out.

“Damn wolves,” Snape muttered, “Potter, hold his head in place.”

Harry obeyed. The liquid was forced down, and after a few frantic thrashes, lay still.

Everything crashed down onto Harry a second later. “What the hell did you give him? What the bloody-hell did you give him that he couldn’t stand? What was it?”

“There was silver dust in the potion. It was necessary. Once he wakes up I’ll need you to-”

“No. Wait a minute. What the hell were you trying to do giving him silver dust? It could kill him, and probably is right now.”

Snape paused and sneered menacingly. “For your information, Potter, that silver dust may kill him. But it is essential to the potion and is also the only thing that has any chance at saving him. If you wish for him to die, I can administer a potion that will render the silver inactive, but it will kill him as well. Right now he has a chance, do you wish to eliminate that?” He did not wait for an answer. “Sit down in the living room. There is an hour to be wasted before we know if we were successful. In the mean time, I want your explanation. You won’t leave until you tell me, and if I think you are lying, I must inform you that I always keep Veritaserum on me.”

Harry met the icy glare for a few seconds and then smirked. “No.”

“What did you say? I want an explanation for your foolishness.”

“You are not going to receive one though.” Harry stood up abruptly. He had realized something again.

And realizations led to action.

“I am going to the Ministry for a short time. When I return we can talk, particularly the explanation of what happened to Remus. For now, you can just wait, Sir.”

He did not bother to wait for a response; he turned on his heel and strode from the house. A quiet fire was raging in him once more, hiding behind the cold exterior that had reemerged after his outburst. It would not be easily tamped down.

He was staring into the abyss of the future and knew that he might lose another friend. The only way he could help was if he was ready, and to be ready he had to use his wand. The only way to do that was to force the situation on Fudge. He jogged down the street, and never looked back.

*~~~*~~~*

The Minister’s office gave off an impressive air as Harry threw open the door. “Hello Sir.” He said passively.

“How, how did? What is? How?” The man bumbled. For a few seconds he could do nothing but mutter to himself and blink. Then he drowned a glass of some liqueur and took a deep breath.

“Why are you here Potter?”

“I need my wand rights.”

“I told you already, you do not need them, and therefore will not be receiving them. I thought that I had made that quite clear in my letter. The world does not need another of Dumbledore’s flunkies wandering around the world with more power than is good for him.” Harry ran a hand through his scraggly hair, intentionally using the same gesture that his father would have. It could only help for Fudge to associate Harry with his James. Both of them were powerful. He was about to speak, but was cut off. “How did you even get in here? That door is locked with magic and can only be opened with magic.”

Harry turned slowly to the door and said dryly, “Oops.” The minister prepared to blather on, but stopped. “Sir, tell me why exactly I don’t need to train with my wand.”

“You are protected, and any training you really need can wait until your return to Hogwarts. From there the almighty Dumbledore can protect you, just like he always has.”

“And what happens when Dumbledore is killed? What happens when there is no one but me to stand up against Voldemort and dare to fight back? What happens if when that time comes, I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“That would never happen.”

“Sir. It will. And when it does we won’t be expecting it. The attack could come in two years or in two days, and we don’t know. We can’t know. But we can be ready. If you won’t let me train legally, I will do so illegally. And don’t think I won’t.”

“You would be thrown in Azkaban.”

“I’d break out.”

“You’d be on the run.”

“Perhaps, so was Sirius, and he kept fighting.”

“You would give up your life, just so you can use your wand during the summer?” He said incredulously.

Harry sighed, the man was not understanding the severity of inaction. “Sir. I have to have these rights. And yes, I would risk Azkaban for this because the other option is much worse. If you don’t give me them, then you are sentencing the wizards of the world to servitude, and the Muggles to death. Can you handle that counterweight?”

“That would never happen. It would be impossib-”

“No, sir. It would happen. I would die unless I joined him. Families like the Weasleys would be killed for their affinity to Muggles. Families like you would be placed in chains and forced to work for him. It would happen.”

“Potter, what you are saying is foolishness. You-know-who hasn’t returned-”

“Yes he has.”

“Then why hasn’t he-” He continued without hearing Harry.

“Minister.”

“-attacked? That stunt you preformed-”

“Minister.”

“-with that murderer proved nothing but your desperation to-”

“Minister!”

“-fight ME! And your lies are what killed Black. Not that a wizard who claims to be on Our side should be upset when something so Dark and disgusting dies!”

Harry sighed and looked up, collecting himself and muttering curses. He looked back to Fudge and opened his mouth to repeat the name one last time. It was unnecessary. Fudge was dead silent and staring openmouthed and wide-eyed.

“What?” He asked.

“P-p-p-parseltongue.” The minister whimpered.

Mentally ripping himself apart for carelessness, he once again collected himself, and suppressed the subconscious second language. He would need to ask Snape about the habit later. When he spoke again it was with an enormous force of emotions behind every word.

“Minister, first, Sirius was not Dark. And second, I have to have my wand rights. You know as well as I do, and probably like it even less than me, that I have to fight Voldemort.” Fudge shuddered as he had every time. “You can’t even stand his name. You have yet to admit he has returned, just because you don’t like me. You saw the proof sir. You saw it and you have to accept it. It is my job to fight him, not yours, but your announcement would make everyone’s lives easier. I have faced him four times; eventually I have to win if by nothing but chance. If I don’t then we all die. The options aren’t wonderful, particularly for me. Now, it really is your decision, but if you have half an idea of what the world needs you will overcome your playground enmity for me and give me what I need. It is your choice.”

Harry waited a few seconds as the gears in the Minister’s head worked overtime. “Do you have an answer, Sir?” He asked quietly.

Fudge could not hold the gaze of the teenager, and slumped to the desk, dejected at his loss. Harry waited patiently while a quill floated over the parchment to write the dictation.

“I,” Fudge’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic, here give to Harry James Potter the full rights of a graduated and adult wizard, including full-year wand use, an Apparation license, and am hereby giving him leave to purchase or otherwise obtain non-tradable substances of any class.” He took the quill in his hand to sign it, and then handed it to Harry. “Is that all, Potter?”

“You added more than I asked for. Why?”

“I would rather you did not return to my office demanding anything again.”

He accepted the letter, and said “Thank you, Minister. Thank You.” He put into the last two words more emotion and honest gratitude than he had ever before in his life.

“The rights go into effect as of now, but the other offices will know about them within the hour.”

The bewildered young man nodded and turned around, exiting the room, and quickly the Ministry with a look of wonderment on his face. He headed back to Grimauld Place cradling a faint glimmer of hope.


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