Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 4: The Portkey

"Albus," Snape said, leaning back in his chair. "He's watching Potter."

"Harry?" Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. "The spell is powerful enough to break through the wards?"

Snape had known that point especially would be cause for concern for Albus. He based Potter's safety on the strength of those wards, but as Snape knew very little of the spell itself he therefore could say very little to ease that concern.

"From what Draco told me, Potter was the only one the spell would work on. I believe he was being honest."

Dumbledore nodded and stood to walk towards the fireplace where he stood silently, waiting to hear more.

"Though there can be no assurance that Draco won't bring this spell to the Dark Lord's attention later, there is no doubt, in my mind at least, that at this time he has not even thought of taking that action."

Dumbledore turned his head slightly and asked, "What other reason would he have for a spying spell than to seek information that would aid Voldemort, Severus?"

"Though Draco has grown in some ways, his childish rivalry with Potter lives on with no sign of it ever diminishing. He wants to find some way of blackmailing him, learning some information that would give him the upper hand in any future argument."

Dumbledore faced the fireplace again, but now before Snape saw how the corners of his mouth lifted up with amused smile.

"Ah, I had not considered the length school boys will go to just to learn something dark about the other."

Snape sneered and pushed his teacup away. "Yes, but it seems Draco may have learned more than he expected and he doesn't know how to handle this new information, or even distinguish what is real and what he has made up."

The shadows in the room drew back some as Dumbledore spelled the flames of the fire larger, though there was still no heat that came from it.

Snape stood up and came to stand beside him. "In his own words," he began sarcastically, "'Potter isn't supposed to be like this.'"

Dumbledore did not look amused any longer. His expression was solemn and his arms were crossed behind his back in deep contemplation.

"Yes, I think several people might be better off if they realized that," he said quietly.

"Hmm?"

Glancing at him seriously, Dumbledore continued. "There is a lot more to Harry than many would want to admit. Some realizations change one's opinion so much that they may find that going back to the way things were before is simply impossible. That can be rather frightening."

Snape glared at the fire. Would Dumbledore never cease his insistent meddling? He could continue believing in his delusions of Potter's unfaltering moral goodness, but, if he didn't stop trying to change everyone else's mind to echo his own, he might soon find himself without a spy.

Perhaps sensing Snape's unwillingness to listen tonight, Dumbledore sighed lightly.

"What else did Mister Malfoy have to say about Harry?"

"I'm not sure I wish to repeat it all, hearing it once was quite enough."

"Pensieve, then?"

Snape nodded and Dumbledore went to draw it out from the large cabinet in the corner of the room. He placed the heavy object on the desk and turned away towards the fireplace as Snape drew forth the memory of his meeting with Draco.

"There."

Dumbledore came forward and placed a hand briefly on Snape's shoulder, "Thank you, Severus." With that, he bent his head toward the pensieve and was immediately enveloped in memory.

While Dumbledore viewed the memories of what Snape himself had lived only hours before, Snape stared at the fire, crossed his arms, and tried to think of how best to handle Draco.

It was only years of masking his expression that kept Snape from gawking when he'd entered the library earlier that day. At first he'd wondered at the length of Draco's vanity, to have such a large mirror placed in a library...then he'd noticed that it was not Draco's reflection it showed, but Potter.

Bloody Harry Potter, of all people, and what was he doing?

He was in the middle of an intense battle with a metal can. Hero of the Wizarding World my arse.

Snape had maybe half a minute to sort all this out, and think of what to say when he saw the realization creep into Draco that he was not in the presence of his house elf after all.

He'd come down hard on the boy and made it clear that he held no interest in Potter except that he was to be left unharmed for the Dark Lord. There was certainly nothing in his words that could be later held over his head should the Dark Lord ever break into either his or Draco's mind.

Draco's unfaltering interest in Potter's life at his Muggle relative's home was odd, and Snape found himself wondering how much of what the boy had said was true. Had the uncle really locked up Potter's wand? That was probably for the best, in that house he was safe, and his use of underage magic had gotten him in trouble before, so Snape could understand that. But then there was the matter of the uncle shaking Potter 'so hard his head almost flew off.'

Snape smirked to himself. He was not able to deny that the mental image was quite amusing, and most certainly a bit exaggerated on Draco's part.

He meant what he said, Dumbledore wouldn't put his favorite Gryffindor in the care of anyone who would treat him wrongly. At that moment, the Headmaster emerged from the pensieve.

He looked oddly content.

"Severus," he began and smiled when he caught Snape's wary expression. "I think this may be a very good thing indeed."

He sat behind the desk, and Snape moved to return his memories to their rightful place.

"Care to impart how you came to that insane conclusion?"

Dumbledore laughed softly at him, and Snape scowled deeply into the basin as the wand withdrew the cloudy trail that was his memories.

"No need to look so utterly vexed, Severus. Now, consider if you would, a world where the Malfoy family was not sided with Voldemort."

Snape almost snorted, but instead remained quiet as he put the memories back in his mind and then raised an eyebrow at the headmaster in a show of delicate interest.

"You have my apt attention."

"Young Mr. Malfoy's interest in Harry's life and apparent confusion, could lead to doubts about his family's allegiance with Voldemort. That doubt, if fed correctly, could grow into fear and potentially leave Voldemort with a few less supporters."

Snape was not one to aid along foolish fantasies. He did not hesitate to sneer at Dumbledore and his fantastical imagination.

"I think you've been reading up on fairy tales, Albus. That would work all too well for us, so, it won't be happening anytime soon. We aren't that lucky."

"Ah, Severus. We make our own luck."

With a growl in the back of his throat, Severus threw one of his own favored quotes back, "Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect."

Dumbledore smiled, "Ah! So, you do agree that with the right preparation, we can possibly get young Mr. Malfoy to turn his life down a better path."

Snape scowled and looked away. "Since his mother has expressed her desire for me to monitor him and keep him from harm, it should be somewhat easy to see what effect watching his Lord's enemy will have on Draco. And, I will admit he seemed more troubled than usual."

"Hmm. That may have been borne from your sudden appearance," Dumbledore said with a light chuckle.

"No, no, I don't think so. I do disagree with your scheme, Draco's already frightened for the safety of his family, and has been raised with the mind set of loyally following the Dark Lord. You should stay out of it Albus. Meddling is not a pastime you should partake in."

"He is planning on murdering me Severus, but perhaps after his first attempts fail he'll seek other ways of ensuring his own safety and that of his family. You should go visit him again fairly soon, I'd like to learn the name of that spell."

Though he noted how his advise on meddling was overlooked, Snape only nodded reluctantly and turned towards the door. "Very well, Albus. I'll take my leave now. Thank you for the tea."

Dumbledore nodded, "Anytime, Severus."

......................................................................................................

Harry woke up to the sound of pounding footsteps. He blinked and with bated breath listened for difference of Uncle Vernon's steps to Dudley's. Once waking up, Uncle Vernon would get ready for work and go downstairs with the intent to not come back up until it was time to retire to bed. If those were his footsteps, then Harry was most likely about to have a very rude wake up call indeed.

He had just sat up when the door handle started to rattle, and he could hear little huffing breaths just beyond the door. Shit.

The door opened much slower then Harry expected and his danger radar seemed jump along with his stomach.

"What....is this?"

Resisting the urge to close his eyes, Harry licked his lips a bit. "A parcel?"

"Very good deduction!" Vernon spat out. "As if you weren't expecting this--this!"

He flung the parcel at Harry's head and all the little wrapped packages of food that Ron and his mum had sent him were scattered across the room and sent flying into various objects with sad smacking sounds. The box hit Harry's upraised arm and fell at his feet.

Though it certainly wasn't time for mundane observations, Harry noticed that the appropriate number of stamps were neatly placed on the package, and wondered who had helped the Weasley's with mailing it.

"What did you tell them boy? Do you write to them and say that we don't feed you? Are you so bloody ungrateful of what you do have that you have to go begging others for more!"

"They were just being thoughtful," Harry murmured.

"Thoughtful!" Vernon shouted. "is it bloody thoughtful of them to mail you this shit in broad daylight so that all the neighborhood knows that a freak lives here! Eh? Answer me that, boy!"

Harry remained silent, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Nothing to say for yourself that would make you seem any less freakish? Not even going to try?" Uncle Vernon shook his head at Harry, his eyes narrowed with dislike. Those beady eyes shot to the rubbish bin and he pointed at it, his hand shaking with pent up anger. "Bring that here."

Harry picked it up as Vernon continued talking. "Got to make sure you aren't hiding food in here too," he said and bent his head to look inside the bin for any wrappers.

Due to Harry's forward planning, it was empty.

Vernon grunted and pulled back. "Well, pick all that up and put it back in the parcel. It's going straight in the rubbish."

Trying not to let his frustration show, Harry focused on that room of solitude inside himself where Vernon's hate filled tones could not reach and picked up all the carefully wrapped bits of food that he would not get to eat. Fresh bread, sandwiches with a preservation charm, several chocolate frogs that he was sure had been Ron's donation.

Harry kneeled down on the side of the bed Vernon could not see and slid one sandwich underneath and was careful to come back up with a bag of Bertie's Bots Every Flavor Beans in his hand so Vernon would not suspect anything.

He placed it all back in the box and held it out to Vernon who snatched it, sniffed and walked out of the room. Once the locks slid back into place and he heard his uncle once again downstairs in the kitchen, Harry thought it was safe to reclaim the sandwich.

"Thanks, Ron," he said and tried to enjoy the peanut butter and strawberry jam with slow delight. The Weasley's thoughtfulness hadn't gone completely to waste.

The summer was shaping up to be worse than usual. Harry could always count on them finding fault with him for something that would gain him a punishment of meager food supply. But it was going on five days with only water and a can of soup from the Dursley's. He was starting to get that near constant achy feeling he'd grown so used to when he was younger and his Hogwart's letter hadn't arrived. The ache was one that never went away and echoed the pain in his chest he felt when he saw how Dudley was never left in want.

It was a pain that made him realize later on just how fortunate he was when at Hogwarts he never had to go hungry, and when he would visit the Weasley's they all seemed so happy just to see to his well being.

Brent must have really stirred the pot with that bloody cat trick, they'd never been this harsh with rashenings before. Three days without food was the longest he could remember. After his first year at Hogwarts, Harry had hoped that maybe, along with his new bedroom, some other changes might come about in the Dursley household. Like more food for him, and maybe, just maybe, they'd be more affectionate towards him.

Harry had paid for that false assumption, the hunger pains were hard to get used to after being fed three well portioned meals each day at Hogwarts. He'd smartened up after that and started shrinking his stomach when summer break would draw near by eating less and less each day. It helped tremendously...sneaking food also helped but there was only so much he could hide. It was lucky that they didn't have an insect problem with all the wrappers Harry's had stowed away under his bed.

With only the crust of his sandwich left, Harry went to his bedroom window and stared out at the world still moving onward just beyond the bars.

If he could make it past this summer with all his social skills intact it would be a miracle, considering he was surrounded by people that detested him once again and considered verbal interaction with him burdensome.

At least all the quiet time had produced some good results. He was feeling rather good about his Oclumency skills. He'd 'borrowed' several texts from the Hogwart's library right before leaving, and even though they were locked away now, what he'd had a chance to read certainly seemed to be helping.

To anyone watching, all his silent staring would have seemed rather creepy if they were not aware that he was actually practicing. Good thing no one was watching. He didn't need anymore help being classified as a freak.

.....................................................................

Draco hadn't slept at all. Knowing that someone else now shared his secret, even someone he had known all his life, had left him nervous and paranoid. He had ended the mirror spell after Snape left and even though he itched to start it again. He'd immediately cast wards around the room to keep even the members of his own family out and to warn him of anything approaching the room, elf, owl, or human.

Snape's words kept coming back to him, and when they did Draco almost ground his teeth.

No, he had not considered the laws he was breaking. At the time he was too caught up in the question, 'Why the hell is Potter being throttled by a bloody Muggle?'

It didn't matter now. Snape wouldn't report him, he'd vowed to Draco's mother that he would protect him. He'd seemed quite interested in the spell actually--ding.

Draco froze.

Ding. Then, much louder, the sound came again, then a voice that was neither male or female whispered in his head, 'Severus Snape'.

"Snape?" Draco muttered irritably and cast tempus. It was only eight in the morning, and though Draco normally got up earlier, he wondered at Snape thinking it was a good time for a visit.
Running his fingers through his oddly unkempt hair, Draco stood up to greet Snape just as he walked through the library doors.

There was a slightly pinched quality to his face that made Draco's heart stop beating for a second and all variations of bad thoughts race through his head.

"Did you tell someone about...." Draco swallowed when Snape's eyes seemed to grow, if possible, darker. He shut the library door and strode forward talking as he went and scanning the book laden table.

"Ah, yes. I can see the conversation now, 'Draco Malfoy? Yes, I know him very well. In his spare time he spies through a peephole watching Harry Potter eat noodles from a can' ." Snape turned scathing eyes on Draco, one eyebrow raised. "I have no wish to be placed in Mungos's Incurable Ward."

Crossing his arms, Draco tried not to huff.

"What can I help you with today, Professor?"

Snape raised one eyebrow at him, and crossed his arms to mirror Draco. "Why, Draco, you don't sound pleased to see me...and no, I haven't and don't plan on spewing information about your new hobby to anyone."

He turned and picked up a heavy book off the table and started flipping through it. "I just wish to know more about the spell you used."

"Why?"

"Down, Draco. You can keep Potter all to yourself, I want to know the spell for research purposes. Only."

Teeth clench, Draco bit out, "Would you stop insinuating--"

Seeing Snape's lip twitch as he remained bent over the book, Draco sighed and went closer to the table.

"I'll give you the spell, though I should make you just study for it until your eyes roll out of your head--"

"What a lovely mental picture that is," Snape said, dropping the book he held and reaching for another.

"Of course you would think so," Draco griped back and with a heavy sigh picked the stray piece of paper up that was separated slightly from all the other tombs. "This is old, please don't get spider blood, or some other disgusting ingredient on it."

Snape cast him a warning glance and carefully took the parchment.

"Certainly not what I would classify as easy reading," Snape drawled and narrowed his eyes at the tiny print on the stained page. "What did you translate the words to say?"

"I just thought it meant 'to view a enemy', or something along those lines."

"Hmm," Snape said, his eyes thoughtful as he gazed at the picture besides the words. "I'd like to see the spell working."

Draco blinked at him, "Now?"

In turn, Snape made a sound that was close to a snort. "Do you have a more preferable time to begin Potter watching?"

Not bothering to hide his irritation at that comment, Draco scowled and moved forward to cast the spell he'd memorized.

The view of Potter's bedroom materialized in front of them, just in time to see Potter's large uncle hurl a box straight at his nephew's head. Potter raised an arm to shield his face and flinched back as the box hit his upraised arm with a large thwack-ing sound. The contents of the box flew across the room too fast for either Snape or Draco to make out what they were.

"What did you tell them boy?" Potter's uncle yelled at him, spittle flying out of his mouth and his face turning red much too quickly. "Do you write to them and say that we don't feed you? Are you so bloody ungrateful of what you do have that you have to go begging others for more!"

Draco could feel Snape step closer, and knew those dark eyes would be taking in every detail of the scene before them both.

"They were just being thoughtful," Potter said quietly. His eyes trailed to the ground.

"Thoughtful!" His uncle shouted, hands flying up like he wanted to hit something, "is it bloody thoughtful of them to mail you this shit in broad daylight so that all the neighborhood knows that a freak lives here! Eh? Answer me that, boy!"

Potter didn't speak, but Draco saw how his fists clenched tightly at the offensive words.

"Nothing to say for yourself that would make you seem any less freakish? Not even going to try?"

He suddenly pointed at the rubbish bin in the corner of the room. "Bring that here."

Draco inhaled quickly, and not thinking, he breathed out, "That's why he did it."

He felt Snape look at him sharply. "What?" He snapped.

As Potter picked up the rubbish bin, Draco quickly explained.

"Potter has a hidden stash of food under his bed, but he never puts the wrappers in the rubbish, he always hides them--"

"Got to make sure you aren't hiding food in here too," the Muggle bent his head and looked down in the rubbish bin with an expectant look on his face, which quickly fell into disappointment and then he grunted. "Well, pick all that up and put it back in the parcel. It's going straight in the rubbish."

Draco glanced at Snape and said with a little more snideness than was probably necessary, "Still think I'm embellishing?"

His professor looked like he was barely holding back a snarl when he glanced at Draco.

"Please Draco, if you are so bored that you have to create sob stories from the normal lives of your fellow students, I suggest you take up a hobby."

As Potter's Muggle uncle left the room, Draco turned on Snape. "In what world is it normal to call your nephew a 'freak'?"

Snape raised his eyes to the ceiling, "People say all matter of things when they are angry Draco, you don't know what has caused this upset among the family, but I can assure you Potter is to blame for it. There have never been any reports of violence from their house before, and don't you think Potter would ask to be removed from the house if he truly felt endangered there?"

Snape suddenly froze and leaned toward the mirror, "What is he doing?"

Draco turned and they watched in silence as Potter got on the floor and dug underneath the bed frame. When he emerged, it was with a sandwich wrapped in wax paper that he'd managed to hide from his uncle.

"Oh, that's something else you might be interested to know...Potter has some Slytherin tendencies."

Snape did snarl then, and without a glance back, he turned on his heel and swept out of the library. Watching him go, Draco couldn't help but smirk a bit.

.....................................................................


"Danger," Snape mussed to himself not even an hour later and then leaned back in his high backed chair. He'd taken the scrap of parchment back to his rooms at Hogwarts instead of going back to his home. The majority of his older, more valuable books remained here all through the year, where he could keep an eye on them and have them close at hand. Plus, he trusted Hogwarts security more than his current abode he still grudgingly referred to as home. The longer his belongings went without being touch by the sullied hands of his 'fellow' Death Eaters, the better.

He'd translated the spell, and now wondered if he needed to alert Albus immediately, or if it could wait.

According to his translation, the spell was for 'watching enemies in danger'. With this spell, one man could see his foe drink the poisoned wine he'd sent him, or get mauled by the dog he'd set after him...it really was a grim little thing.

But that only brought forth the question...what was Potter in danger of?

.....................................................................

Behind the locked doors in his mind, Harry felt a bit more at peace. It was not a feeling he was not used to at the Dursley's. Things this summer were odd, and more than a little unsettling...but he could always rely on the fact that it would eventually come to an end.

Along with the dread he felt when summer approached, there as also something he'd never had before. A knowledge that he had somewhere better to go as soon as summer ended, and sometimes even sooner than that if the Weasley's decided to let him stay with them.

The sound of male voices downstairs did not alarm him, in his relaxed state brought on by Oclumency it was more so background noise...until one of those voices drew nearer.

"I'm go'in to the loo! Put the movie on already," shouted someone from just out in the hall.

Harry's eyes flashed open just as the locks on his door started to slide open from the outside.

He didn't stand, even when the door opened to show Brent leaning against the doorframe with has hands both shoved into his pockets. His eyes laid upon Harry who remained sitting under the window with his arms crossed over the top of his knees.

"I think you're lost, this is not the loo."

Strangely, Brent smiled. "No, even though it smells like it. When was the last time you showered?"

"Probably about the same time you had anything knowledgeable to say...so a very, very long time ago."

Brent stepped forward angrily and it was Harry's turn to smile. "Won't your little friends be looking for you? How long does it normally take you to piss?"

"Oh, they won't be looking for me for a while, and by then they'll be too late."

He moved further into the room and the door shut silently behind him.

Suddenly feeling very small and alone, Harry stood up and tried to keep his growing anxiety off his face.

"if you're here to beat me up you'd better get on with it, the Dursley's will be home soon."

Brent guffawed, "Like they'd really care after all I've done to make sure they'd hate you."

Harry glanced at the bars on the window that had been there long before Brent arrived. "You can't take credit for them hating me, not full credit."

Brent shrugged, "I just made it grow is all."

Feeling suddenly a fierce annoyance at him, Harry snapped, "Why?"

A strange look came over Brent's face. The look was full of frustration and for a moment Harry wondered if Brent was all right in the head. The answer came to him immediately.

He'd killed a cat just to make the Dursley's mad at Harry, of course he wasn't right in the head.

"Why?" Brent said in a low tone of voice, "It's what I was supposed to do. That...and this."

With that being said, he stepped forward with a menacing air. Harry reached for his wand--and his hand grasped at air just as his other hand moved to punch Brent across the face.

Dodging his blow, Brent pulled a small dagger from the hidden pocket of his jacket and with one swift and practiced move, he stabbed Harry in his leg. The blade slid in deep even as Harry tried to push Brent away.

"Agghh!" Harry screamed in pain and anger, he ducked his head down and saw that the knife was buried up to the hilt into his leg. Blood was already soaking his pant leg and leaking on his Aunt's floorboards.

"Brent--"

His attacker moved back, and suddenly unable to hold himself up, Harry slid down the wall. Still and silent, Brent watched.

Words left him, and so he didn't try to speak. Harry moved a shaking hand to pull the dagger out, but Brent's words stopped him.

"Goodbye, Potter. It was fun, this little one-sided game, but it's served the purpose it was meant to, as has my little pawn. So, it's time to end both."

Harry stared at Brent, his hand hovering in the air and mouth slightly open in shock. Because it hadn't been Brent's voice that spoke, even though it had been his mouth that moved. Even as he watched, Brent's eyes rolled back in his head and in what seemed like slow motion, his body collapsed loudly next to where Harry still sat.

Though he didn't check, Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he was dead.

His leg spasmed then, and Harry lurched forward as pain shot through not only his leg, but through his entire body.

"Brent! Hey, Brent!"

Dudley was shouting from the bottom of the stairs. Harry's eyes shot toward the shut door of his bedroom, at the same time he felt a tugging from somewhere behind his navel.

"Oh...oh, God." Harry muttered, and reached again to pull the dagger from his leg.

He was too late. At the same time that the room started spinning, Dudley started pounding up the stairs and Harry knew the first thing he'd see when he entered this room, was Brent's dead body lying alone on the floor....and then, the Portkey activated.

Chapter End Notes:
Author's Note: Ahhhhh! Finally getting to the meat of the story, I hate and love the set-up part of writing a fanfic. What are ya'll thinking? Please review! Sorry this update has taken so long, I got offered a chance to go to Australia for a year--but I've had a bloody hard time getting a passport, 7 months and I still don't have it! See, I have a delayed birth certificate, so I have to prove I was born here...which is apparently pretty difficult. So, even though my dream of traveling may not come true anytime soon, you can keep my spirits up by reviewing! Any readers from Australia, in the state of Queensland?

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