Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
And here's Harry's part of the story!
The Mole

Day 3 continued

 

Evelyn and Severus having left, Harry was led through the Potioneer's Society, up staircases and down corridors. The building was surprisingly big, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it was designed to confuse newcomers or those who were not supposed to be there.

"Now you mustn't feel overwhelmed by all of this," said Richard cheerfully when he glanced back and saw the confused look on Harry's face. "You'll figure out how to get around soon enough."

"This place is so much bigger than my parents' farm," he said in wonder, allowing his anxiety to be heard slightly in his voice, even if his nerves were for different reasons than he stated. "Do you at least have a map I can use for a couple of days?"

"A map? Well ... we haven't got any on hand."

"Oh. It's just, I don't want to bother anyone with asking where to go," he said with his eyes wide. "Everyone looks so busy, and they're all doing such important work, I don't want to make them lose track of it."

"Hmm, you know, I suppose I could draw you out a quick one. I will try to have it sent to your tomorrow morning."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Prince," said Richard with a genuine smile. It was clear he enjoyed his job.

Harry smiled winningly, feeling more Slytherin than Gryffindor, but also relieved that he would be able to get a rough map of the building copied onto the magical parchment and sent to Evelyn and Snape sooner than he had anticipated. His stomach fell briefly to his feet as he contemplated the distance between himself, Evelyn, and Snape. Evelyn's house was really only a few blocks from the Society, but at the moment, it felt like there was an ocean separating them.

"Ah, here we are," said Richard, knocking on a large wooden door. A polished metal sign hung on the stone beside it, which said the name Gregory Peakes upon it.

"Hello?" said a rather short man when the door was opened. He was only about a foot taller than Harry, and had dark blue eyes, which rested behind very old fashioned looking wire glasses. In addition to this, there were a few teeth missing in his smile. He didn't have much for hair, but what little he had left was grey, with a few traces of what must have been a sandy brown once. He had a friendly face, and upon it were many laugh lines, which Harry felt to be a good sign.

"Hello, Gregory," said Richard cheerfully. "This is Harold Prince. He was the boy I spoke to you about. All that is left of the paperwork is for you to put your signature on the apprenticeship form, and he's yours."

"Wonderful," said the man cheerfully. "I could use a hand around here. Come in Mr. Prince. You may take a seat while I sort out the papers with Richard."

"Yes sir," Harry said rather shyly, entering into the small office space and sitting down in a rather stiff chair, with what looked to be horsehair covering the seat and back.

After a few hasty signatures, Richard rolled up the small parchment and left with a cheerful goodbye. When he had left, the man stood back, surveying Harry.

"Now, Mr. Prince," said the man, "first of all, you shall refer to me as Mr. Peakes, or sir, just for the sake of formality. I am your mentor, and you are my student."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Good," he said. "Now, I am Gregory Peakes, as you surely have been told. Has Richard told you much of how your apprenticeship is going to work here?"

"A little, but not a lot, sir," Harry said as Gregory took a seat opposite him.

"I'll just skim over it then, to make sure you have a basic understanding at least," he said. "Your first year will be mostly comprised of book work, and a little bit of simple brewing toward the end of the year. It is better if you start with theory, for brewing can be quite dangerous if you do not have a proper understanding. Which leads me to ask, can you read?"

"Yes sir, quite well," Harry assured him.

"Excellent. And you needn't tack on a sir to everything, I'm afraid it could become wearisome to you if you do," he said with a good natured smile and a wave of his hand before ploughing on. "So, as I was saying, much of what you learn during your first year will be from books. I will do demonstrations on certain topics, but you will not get to brew potions of your own for a while. I want to make sure that you fully understand the art of potion making before you begin. Some days you will only do book work for the morning, and during the afternoons you will be assisting me. This does not necessarily mean that you will be helping prepare ingredients. You may end up doing simple tasks such as cleaning, running errands, and getting small things out of the way so that I might focus more on my research. This is how you will earn your keep, and in return for your efforts, I will bestow upon you as much knowledge as I can. It is up to you to be willing to learn it. Although, a willingness to learn shouldn't be too much trouble from what I have gathered. I understand that you are a pretty lucky boy to be here, having come from a farming background." His eyes were twinkling. "Your father spoke very highly of your in that letter he sent."

"He did?" Harry asked, pretending to sound pleased. Snape had obviously had to talk him up a bit to get him in here. Feeling rather glum, he thought to himself that a lot of what Snape had said probably wasn't true.

"Indeed," said Mr. Peakes, eyes still sparkling. "I have no doubt that you can do great things if you put your mind to it. Once upon a time a little farm boy not unlike yourself became apprenticed in this very same institution, and perhaps someday you too will get a chance to research in these fine halls. Would you like that one day?"

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Work hard, and you will get there," Mr. Peakes assured him with a small smile. He looked upon the clock for a moment, ticking upon a shelf. "It's almost time for lunch, so why don't you come with me and I'll show you around a little bit before we go eat?"

"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly.

 

***

 

For the remaining hours in the morning Harry was shown around the main floor of the Potioneer's Society, which he found to be a bustling, busy place. The main floor was mostly comprised of offices that were in charge of the more administrative side of things. There were a few tables along the walls here and there with request forms for some of the more dangerous ingredients. A form from those tables, Mr. Peakes told Harry, was then forwarded to one of the offices, where the attached write-up detailing the ingredient's intended use was evaluated before being approved. These were some of the many precautions taken so that accidents were avoided. Although, there were a great many ingredients that did not need to have forms filed for, and they were kept in the storehouse just off the side of the hall, not far from the tables. Mr. Peakes led Harry into it, and let him look around for a little while. It was a spectacular room, not overly wide or long, but extremely tall. Just looking up, Harry was sure it went up at least three stories. There was a magical lift in the very centre of the room, which rose up so that you could reach the large shelves on all sides of you. Riding the lift up into the storehouse, Mr. Peakes pointed out various ingredients, kept under bell jars or in sealed canisters. There were beetle eyes, frog livers, spider legs and bottles filled with mysterious, shimmering substances.

All through this tour, Harry asked as many questions as he dared, especially when they took a small detour down the staircase that went into the lowest floor of the building, which went partially underground. They passed a vast room where the laundry was done, by house elves, said Mr. Peakes. The sounds of water running and steam hissing could be heard beneath the door as they passed it. A few storage rooms later, they reached a stone staircase beneath an elaborately carved arched doorway. Mr. Peakes said that it led down beneath the building and into the catacombs. According to him, those who died and had once worked at the Potioneer's Society had the right to be buried down in the catacombs. Few refused the chance for a permanent resting place, according to Mr. Peakes. Not many were lucky enough to be buried anywhere other than out in the middle of a field, to be forgotten in a few years.

"Sir, do people go down there much? Into the catacombs I mean?" Harry asked in a hushed voice as they stood at the top of the staircase that led down into them. From what he had seen, this lowest level was quite deserted, and he imagined the catacombs to be that way as well. At least he hoped.

"Sometimes, but usually people do not venture into them often, unless someone whom they have known has been put to rest down there. There is nothing down there to hurt you," said Gregory, clearly trying to sound calming, as he seemed to think Harry was afraid. " Besides, you'll probably only go as far down beneath the main floor of the Society as the laundry room, if you need to drop something off that cannot wait to be collected. And as you've seen, the entrance to the catacombs is a fair ways from there, so you needn't worry.

"Of course, like many boys before you, you may be tempted in time to go down there to explore, but please refrain from doing so. The catacombs are quite extensive, as this building has been here for a good one hundred years despite the fact that the Society has only relocated here during the last twenty. It is a sacred place of rest, and should not be disturbed for such frivolous things as exploring. "

"Yes sir," Harry said, knowing full well he would have to venture into the catacombs to get the layout in order to find a good place for Evelyn and Snape to surface from.

The rest of the main floor was not overly interesting, or all that useful to Harry's purpose for being there. So it was with much relief when he arrived in the dining hall, where lunch was just about to be served. It was not as grand a room as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and a fair bit smaller despite the fact that the same number of people was packed into it.

"After lunch we shall return to my quarters so that you may begin your studies," Mr. Peakes informed him, much to Harry's disappointment. "Now, apprentices eat separately from their mentors, so you may go and sit -"

"Ah, Gregory!" said a voice nearby.

Mr. Peakes did not look pleased to see the man who spoke. Harry turned to look and see who it was, and he took a step back in alarm. A man with a thin black and grey moustache and dark, slicked back hair stood before them. It was most definitely James McTavish, for he resembled his brother in more than just the eyes. His jaw was similar, and he too had a prominent brow ridge. But it was the coldness that emanated from his voice that made Harry think most of the other McTavish.

"Go sit down with the other apprentices, Mr. Prince," muttered Mr. Peakes, nodding his head toward the table for the young boys.

The tone of his voice made Harry take a step toward it immediately, but James McTavish spoke.

"Come now, Gregory, don't be shy, I would love to be introduced to your new apprentice," he said with a warm smile, but on his face it looked alarming, because his mouth was the only part that smiled. "He will meet me eventually - our labs are across from each other after all. Or have you been too busy all these years to notice?"

A few of the men who were milling about with McTavish gave appreciative chuckles.

"James, this is Harold Prince," began Mr. Peakes with the air of someone who wanted to get something over with quickly. "Mr. Prince, this is James McTavish."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Prince," said McTavish, reaching out to shake Harry's hand.

Knowing that now was the time to be brave, Harry did not hesitate, and kept his grip firm as they shook hands.

"And you, sir," he muttered, trying to refrain from wiping his hand on his robes. He felt contaminated, knowing what kind of person he had just exchanged greetings with.

"I think he will do," said McTavish, attention on Mr. Peakes again. "Shame what happened to the last boy you had, eh?"

It was a very clear warning, and with the bustle of the people dishing up for lunch, McTavish did not try to disguise it.

"Mr. Prince, why don't you go join the other boys?" said Mr. Peaks in careful tone that Harry knew meant he was not to object.

"Yes sir," said Harry hastily, leaving Mr. Peakes and McTavish's gang to go to the apprentice's table. A few steps away, however, Harry bent down to tie his shoelace, which he had purposefully stepped on to untie a moment earlier.

"You stay away from this boy, McTavish. You know where I stand. Just because I cannot prove what you did does not mean I have forgotten it!"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Peakes," McTavish said, dismissing him coolly.

Getting up quickly, Harry did not pause to look back on his way to the apprentices' table. None of the other boys paid much attention to him, and they continued to eat and talk rowdily. Harry filled his plate, and picked up his fork. He looked away from other boys, briefly directing his gaze across the hall. He caught sight of McTavish, who was talking with his friends. Harry looked away quickly.

"Shame what happened to the last boy you had, eh?"

McTavish's words rang through Harry's head, and without taking a bite of food, he set down his fork, swallowing thickly. He was glad the other boys did not notice him. He was sure he was pale as a ghost, for the true danger of his situation had started to sink in, and panic welled up inside him. What was he going to do? What if McTavish did to him what he had done to whoever the last boy was? For a second, Harry closed his eyes tightly. He counted down slowly from ten, calming his breathing. He opened his eyes again, trying to think of what Snape would do if he was here. Heart beating fast, he tried desperately to conjure an answer.

After a few minutes, an answer came. There was only one thing to do. Snape did not run from danger. He had not done so when they were back in time in 1612, and he had yet to this time, so neither would Harry. He would stay, and do his job, because if he didn't get the inside story on the Potioneer's Society, nobody would.

Taking one last deep breath, Harry picked up his fork again. He started to eat, though the food was ash in his mouth.

Chapter End Notes:
Got this one to you guys a little earlier than usual, so enjoy! Hope Harry's side of the story was interesting. What about McTavish's warning, eh? Do you guys think Harry make the right choice to stay?

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