Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
I accidentally hit the 'completed' button before, but this story has a way to go before it's finished, so no worries!

A bit of niceness here—but how long will that last, hmm? I figured Harry needed a bit of a break. The story will speed up from here—in 9 chapters, three days. Now it’ll be more later pockets of time showing Harry’s new life—and how his old one refuses to let go.

Review!
Chapter 9: Classes

Harry and Snape sat there for what felt like hours until Severus pulled his hand back. Harry tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

“You—you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Snape knew that Dumbledore would expect to be told. He knew that Minerva would skin him if he didn’t inform her. And he knew that the Dursleys won, at least a little bit, while Harry kept their secrets. But he also knew how it felt to have everyone know your deepest secret, look at you with pity and to hear them talk about it and you. And he knew that the Dursleys had already won, and Dumbledore knowing wouldn’t change that. So he hesitated.

“Please, sir. They—they’ll send me back.”

“Potter, they won’t—“

“The Headmaster won’t let me stay anymore, I know it. Please, sir. They won’t understand.”

And Snape nodded, slowly. “Not now. But someday, Potter, you’ll need to tell people.”

“I know, sir. Thank you.” Snape heard the lie in it as Harry shifted his weight in the chair. “Do I—Do you have another question, sir?”

Snape scowled at Harry and, after a moment, gruffly said “Not tonight, Potter. You look as if you’re about to toddle off to the potions closet and make yourself a little bed on the floor.”

Harry shrunk in the chair a little. “I can answer another if you want me to, sir.”

“Go to bed, Potter. I shall hold the question in reserve, if you would.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said quietly, and he headed to the door. Before he left, he turned around. “Professor?”

“What, Potter?”

“Uhm…will you be one of my teachers, sir?”

“Yes, Potter. Now get to your dormitory.”

Harry nodded and scurried away, before poking his head back in.

“G-goodnight, sir.”

He ran then, and Snape heard his shoes hitting the stone floor of the dungeon as he stared at the door, wondering how he had earned that little boys trust.

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Seamus and Ron weren’t back at the dorm yet when Harry returned. Neville and Dean were sitting on Neville’s bed, and Neville was gushing over the pictures in the book Harry had seen him reading yesterday—had it really only been yesterday?—and Harry paused outside the doorway to further compose himself before entering.

“—that’s the common field speedwell—uhm, Veronica persica—it’s not got any real powers, but my gran loves them, puts them on the table when she can find them. Muggles call them weeds, but magic seems to repel them, that’s why they don’t flower a lot over here. I like it, though.”

“Me, too. How do you know all this stuff?”

“My grandmother doesn’t like it when I play inside, she says it gives her headaches. But I’m not allowed to go far, because she’s scared I’ll get lost, and I’m not supposed to run around, so I used to just study the flowers. Then, my mum was a herbology fan, so my grandmother gave me all her books. I just like it.”

“It’s neat Neville, truly. This flower’s really pretty. I like the little petals.”

“Three of them are bright blue and big, see? But the last one, it’s paler and smaller than the rest. It’s my favorite Muggle flower.”

Harry entered the room then, and Dean and Neville greeted him warmly.

“Was it bad? Did he—did he make you scrub cauldrons?” Neville asked, a bit of fear in his voice, as if scrubbing cauldrons was really code for him throwing cauldrons at you. Harry shrugged.

“Erm…yeah. I just scrubbed cauldrons.”

Neville shuddered and Dean gave him a small smile. “You look tired, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “It’s been—I don’t know, I guess it’s just seemed like a long couple days. When do Seamus and Ron come back?”

“’Bout an hour.” Dean checked his watch. “Curfew’s in forty minutes.”

“Do I have time to—“ Harry started to ask, then stopped. He’d had one shower already today. He probably wouldn’t be allowed another.

“Time to what?”

“No, I just wanted to shower. But I, I don’t—“

“You have time. Go before Ron and Seamus come back, Seamus’ is a regular hog with the hot water.”

Harry bolted to the shower and, fifteen minutes later, was in his crisp new pajamas and sitting on his bed looking at his schoolbooks.

“Are you coming to classes tomorrow?” Dean asked, pulling his pajama top on.

“Yeah, Professor McGonnagal said at dinner. What classes do we have?”

“Herbology!” Neville cried joyfully from where he was brushing his teeth.

“Yeah, Double Herbology and Transfiguration—that’s with McGonnagal. You’ll like that,” Dean said confidently. “She’s nice, a little strict, but nice.”

Harry nodded drowsily and got under the covers to his cozy bed. Looking around to make sure that Dean and Neville were occupied (Neville was washing his face while Dean brushed his teeth) and he hid his wand under the pillow. In case Dumbledore came to take it in the night. He propped the Herbology book in front of him, determined to read a chapter before he fell asleep. He didn’t want everyone to think he was stupid.

He woke up to feel someone taking his glasses off, and he stiffened. He didn’t move, didn’t let anything show his was awake, because if he was awake they might not stop at glasses. He wished he’d had the sense to hide them! They’d probably seen them glint under a street lamp or something. And he wondered who it was, if it was that man he still had nightmares of, and he got ready. He would kill the man, if he had to, or if it was the Dursleys, he would kill them too. With his wand, he’d kill them, and he knew he could tell the wand to do it and it would. He wouldn’t go back—Snape said he didn’t have to.

Wait—Snape? Snape didn’t live in London.

“--fell asleep with his glasses on,” he heard Neville (wait, Neville wasn’t on the streets) say, and he heard someone place his glasses on his night table.

Harry made himself relax, but he couldn’t, not until he heard Neville get back in bed.

Then he turned over, pulled the covers over him, and started to quietly shake.

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The next morning found Harry in the greenhouse between Neville and Dean. Ron had glared at Harry the next morning, next to Seamus. When Harry said hello, Ron hissed “Don’t talk to me. Now no one but Seamus will be my friend, and it’s all your fault.” He ran ahead in time to be the butt of one of Seamus’ jokes.

Professor Sprout was short, sturdy, and very dirty. Not in the way Harry was on the streets, a more natural dirty, he thought. She talked the class through planting dandetigres ( a cross between tiger lilies and dandelions) and left them to it. Harry and Dean listened to Neville, who stammered through a description as Seamus poked him in the back with a trowel.

“Mr. Finnigan, I had no idea how much you loved Herbology,” Professor Sprout said when she caught Seamus at it.

“Huh?”

“You obviously enjoyed your detention last night so much you’re ready for another one!” The class tittered and Harry smiled at Neville. “However, the plants did not enjoy it as much as you seemed to, so keep that trowel in your pot before I have to assign you to tending the stink cabbage.”

Seamus was very diligent after that.

Harry had to stay after to receive a packet of work from Prof. Sprout.

“It’s not terribly difficult, dear. Just to get you up to speed. Mr. Longbottom’s in your dorm, correct?” Harry nodded. “If you have any questions, ask him. The boys a natural.”

Harry met the other two boys at lunch, where he had grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and told Neville how brilliant he was at Herbology. Seamus merely sulked and snapped at Ron, and when Dean asked Ron for help with the History of Magic work, Seamus snorted.

“Like he’d help you, Thomas. He’s too stupid.”

Ron’s ears burned and Harry felt quite bad for him, but when he offered a ssmile Ron glared as if he were on the verge of tears and started to pull his sandwich apart.

Harry then scurried to Transfiguration, where Professor McGonnagal seated him with Ron Weasley, who was in a foul temper all of class. He kept poking the seed they were supposed to change to a marble until it burst into flames and rolled off the desk. Harry simply watched helplessly.

“It’s not my fault, Professor,” Ron whined. “He doesn’t know anything!”

“Neither do you, Mr. Weasley, if your flagrant lack of care concerning where you put your wand is concerned. Try it again.”

Herbology hadn’t been bad, at least he’d been able to get the general gist, but in Transfiguration he was totally lost. Everyone already knew the wand movements and the spells, and Harry just sat there quietly with Ron glowering at him and poking their seeds until they exploded.

Harry almost had to stay after in that class, too, but a bushy haired girl was bothering the professor, so Harry made a quick escape.

“What now?” Harry asked as they trooped back to the dorm.

“Free time. Er, really not much before dinner. Just about a half an hour,” Neville said as he deposited his robe, tie, vest, and school bag on the bed. “I promised Professor Sprout I would come and watch her feed the Jupiter Traps—they’re wicked.” Neville looked at Harry guiltily. “You can come, if you want.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Dean had plans too—meeting his best friend from another house. “Padma, she’s brill. She’s Parvati’s sister, I’ll introduce you later—we were going to work on Potions.”

Harry smiled and said it was fine, and once they’d left, he sat on his bed for a half an hour looking at the photo of his parents before he even felt hungry.

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Hermione Granger was determined to be the smartest student in her grade before the month was through. She had to be—she had to prove herself to those stupid boys and Slytherins, and even some of the teachers didn’t think she could do it. When she asked questions in Defense, Quirell just smiled and told her that girls wouldn’t be doing the defending anyway. And Snape called her the know-it-all loudmouth every single day. But she would show them, she knew. She knew she could do it.

But that was really just the answer she gave to people that asked her why she worked so hard. Simply put, she worked hard because she loved to learn. She loved to know how things worked, why things worked, when they had first started to work, what different ways they worked. She breathed in and spat out dates and times and history like it was the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich that Harry had devoured at lunch. She wanted to learn because she loved to know. But she knew this didn’t make sense, so she stuck with the first answer a lot.

But when Professor McGonnagal approached her at tutoring another student, she jumped at it.

“Oh, Professor, do you really think me capable?”

“Of course, Miss Granger. Now, I’ve created a guide to what he needs to know and by when—“ Hermione snatched the papers and looked upon them greedily. “He’ll only be taught theory without supervision. Practicals will have to be done in the prescence of a professor or a prefect. Percy Weasley has volunteered to help you with that.”

“Yes, Professor,” and Minerva suddenly saw a small shadow following around Percy Weasley and teaching another shadow how to turn matches into pins.

“This is a great responsibility, Miss Granger. Do you think you can handle it and your own courseload?”

The only thing Hermione loved more than learning was responsibility. “Oh, yes Professor, I’m very responsible. Don’t worry, he’ll be caught up in no time! I’ll get him ahead, I know I can, there’s this wonderful book in the library called the Beginners Guide to Magic, it seemed it would be helpful—“

Minerva laughed at the joyous expression on her face. “Well then, Miss Granger, I’ll leave you to your dinner. Check in with me at the end of next Wednesday and we’ll see if this works.”

Minerva listened to the numerous outflow of ‘thank you!’ that left the small girls body and watched her dash, papers in hand, to the Great Hall.

She somehow suspected Harry’s dinner was to be interrupted.


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