Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Hmm, I believe I said something about the next update being fairly quick. Oops. Blame NaNo - I certainly am! I sort of did this in two parts, so I'm afraid the connecting bit is a bit choppier than I'd like, and I may have lost the thread of 'young' Harry's voice . . .

The beginning bit may seem very familiar - that bit is not mine ;) And I grabbed the pronunciation/meaning bit from various websites/Wiki so it's likely not 100% accurate, but it's probably close enough for the purpose.

The ending of this chapter has been in my head for months, and I argued fiercely with Muse over it for weeks. Alas, she is more stubborn than I. So I'm very, very sorry! *throws chapter and runs for cover*
Chapter 22

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —”

Standing hidden in the shadows on the first landing, Ron winced as his mother faced down Fred and George. He could hear her clearly even from here. He was actually quite thankful now that the twins had slipped off in the middle of the night without him. (Although he’d descended into an epic sulk when he’d first found out – Harry was his friend, after all!)

Unfortunately, however, unless his friend had been stuffed into the boot of the car – and Harry may have been small and scrawny, and the car magically enlarged, but he still wouldn’t have fit – then Fred and George seemed to have returned alone.

“You could have died – you could have been seen – you could have lost your father his job—” Mrs Weasley was still ranting.

Ron snorted. He thought Hermione might get on very well with his mother if they ever met – she had the same sort of priorities.

Eventually, looking very subdued, the twins trooped inside the house. After backing up a few steps, Ron made a big production of stampeding down the stairs into the kitchen.

“And don’t think I don’t know whose idea it was!” Mrs Weasley snapped at him, causing him to jump. She brandished the wooden spoon she was holding at him. “Didn’t I tell you that Harry was fine?”

Ron glanced sideways at his brothers, who both shook their heads.

“No Dursleys,” said George. “Or Harry.”

“Looked like someone else was moving in,” added Fred.

Mrs Weasley made a noise like an over-boiling tea kettle, and the twins ducked their heads as they went to sit down at the kitchen table, Ron trailing after them.

Ron tuned out the banging and shouting over the next few minutes. If Harry hadn’t been where he was supposed to be . . . although how did he know that Fred and George had gotten the right house in the first place? If they’d just taken me with them, he thought.

“As it happens,” he finally heard his mother saying, “I received a message from Dumbledore last night, about the possibility of you lot meeting up with Harry and . . . his guardian in Diagon Alley.”

“He’s all right?” Ron burst out.

Mrs Weasley scowled at her youngest son. “Of course he’s all right,” she said, impatiently. “Dumbledore wouldn’t have left him there if he wasn’t.”

“So when can I see him?” demanded Ron.

His mother folded her arms crossly. “Harry is being taken to Diagon Alley today,” she said, then held up her hand as Ron made to spring up from his seat at the table. “You would have gone, too,” she informed him, “except now I believe your day will be filled with clearing the gnomes from the garden.”

“What?! But, Muuuummmm—” three voices chorused.

“No,” said Mrs Weasley, firmly. “It wouldn’t be much of a deterrent if I let you go haring off to have fun. So today, you three will be helping me around the house. We’ll go to Diagon Alley to get your things next week. Perhaps you can meet up with Hermione,” she added to Ron, as though that mattered.

Huffing indignantly, Ron slid down in his chair, arms folded over his chest. It’s not fair! 


‘Fun’ is not the word, Severus thought as he stalked past yet another small knot of people in his way. Perhaps ‘torturous’, or ‘aggravating’, or ‘I’ve lost my mind!’

There was a small “Oof!” from behind him, and Severus turned to see that yet another person had bumped into Potter. The boy was scrambling to catch up with Severus, idly rubbing his shoulder.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to disguise him, Severus reflected, but it had been this or suffer the crowds engulfing them because of Potter.

“All right, there, Po—Podraig?” he asked, barely remembering not to say the boy’s name out loud.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Potter said. He looked down at his feet, blinked a couple of times, then looked up again. “Sir, what does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” Severus slid his wand out of his sleeve surreptitiously to shorten the tether that he’d placed on Potter again. Most people in the alley tended to scramble out of the way when they saw Severus stalking towards them. It might help Potter if he were close enough to take advantage of the space that afforded.

“That name. Po – Pod – Podrag?” Potter tried, and Severus wanted to both wince and laugh at the mangling of the name.

“Podraig,” he corrected. “It’s Irish, and means ‘of the line of kings’. Although it’s actually pronounced as Paed-rihg, it was chosen mainly because it sounds similar enough to your own surname, and Mr Shunpike was unlikely to know the difference.”

“Oh,” said Potter.

Anything else he might have been going to say was interrupted by a wizard all but flinging himself out of a door nearby and almost crashing into them. Severus gripped Potter’s shoulder and swept the boy behind himself and out of the way.

“So sorry!” the wizard gasped, then looked up at them properly. Severus stifled a groan. Of course it would be Lockhart; today of all days. “I’m afraid I wasn’t quite watching where I was going,” Lockhart explained, grinning madly at them both. It was quite obvious that he didn’t have a clue who either of them were. “I’ve just been discussing my new book, Magical Me, with my publisher,” he continued, waving a hand behind him at the door he’d come out of. The sign over it said ‘Obscurus Books’, with each letter on the front of a different coloured book. “Due out just next week!” Lockhart added, clearly expecting them to be excited over the news. “I’m holding a signing next Wednesday in Flourish and Blotts!”

“Then we shall be sure to avoid the Alley on that day,” Severus said, glaring at the odious wizard. He tried to steer Potter around the popinjay, but was thwarted by Lockhart throwing a hand out.

“Ha-ha, don’t want to admit just how much of an admirer you are, eh?” Lockhart suggested.

Severus suppressed the urge to growl at him – or hex him. The man’s loud voice was causing people’s heads to turn. They did not need this level of attention.

“Tell you what, why don’t I just autograph a copy of my new book for you now. That way you can keep the pretence going.” Lockhart actually winked at Severus, nudging him with his elbow, apparently completely oblivious to the other wizard’s glare.

MERLIN’S BEARD, IT’S LOCKHART!” a witch suddenly squealed from just beyond them. Two more were holding a fierce debate on the other side of them.

“You go.” “No, you go!” “I’ll turn into a blithering idiot!”

“Did he say he’s got a new book?!” someone else shouted from further down the alley.

“Where? Where! Let me at it – I must have it!” An elderly witch – who really should know better, Severus thought – all but pounced on the three of them. She gripped one of Lockhart’s shoulders tightly, and shook him. “Your new book – where is it?” she cried. “I need to complete my collection!”

Within seconds, what seemed like the entirety of Diagon Alley had descended upon them. Lockhart appeared to be lapping up the attention, but Severus heartily wished he could curse every one of the dunderheads. Potter was plastered against his side, clearly intimidated by the crowd. At least it’s not Potter they’re after, Severus thought, as he began edging through the mob towards safety. Ah, well – looks like I won’t be cursing Lockhart today after all.

Finally managing to push their way out of the crowd of Lockhart fans, Severus then received proof that either the gods hated him, or Potter’s ‘sheer dumb luck’ was spreading.

Standing just feet away from them – thankfully with his back turned – was Lucius Malfoy.

Hastily spinning back towards Potter, Severus leant close to the boy, lowering his voice as much as he could in all the noise.

“I have to send you back to the house,” he warned. “I will follow as soon as I can.”

“Wha—?” Potter began, but Severus had already tapped twice on his emergency portkey, and the rest of the boy’s words disappeared with him.

Hoping that his body had shielded Potter’s vanishing, Severus turned around again. 


Harry landed in the living room of the house in a tangle of limbs.

Not all of them were his own.

Scrambling off whatever it was he’d landed on, he hastily checked the room for other intruders before turning back to stare.

It looked a great deal like the creature at Mr Evergreen’s house that Snape had said was a house-elf, but a lot more ragged and . . . wild. It was staring back at Harry as though it had never seen a human before.

“Harry Potter, sir,” the thing said, breathlessly. “Dobby is not knowing you is coming back.”

“Er, what are you doing here?” Harry asked. “I didn’t think the professor had a house-elf . . .”

The elf shuddered, closing its eyes for a brief moment. “Dobby is not belonging to the dark professor,” it said. “Dobby belongs to a . . . proper wizard family.”

Strangely, the elf pulled a face on the word ‘proper’, as though there was an insult behind the insult.

“So what are you doing here?” Harry repeated, frowning.

“Dobby came to warn Harry Potter,” the elf said. “Bad things will be happening at Hogwarts this year. Harry Potter must not go!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Harry after an incredulous pause. “Where would I go?”

“Anywhere would be safer than Hogwarts!” said Dobby, nodding his head emphatically.

“I can’t live on the streets!” Harry protested, horrified. “And besides, my friends would still be there – I can’t abandon them!”

“Even if they have abandoned Harry Potter?” the house-elf asked, slyly. “Even if his friends don’t write?”

“I’m sure they would if they could, but they . . . Hang on,” Harry said, slowly, as realisation dawned. “You’ve been keeping the owls from reaching us!”

“Harry Potter must not attend Hogwarts!” Dobby repeated, clutching at his ears in alarm. Then he perked up, a gleam in his eyes that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. “Dobby will make sure of it!” he proclaimed, and snapped his fingers.

To Harry’s horror, Marble floated down from the top of the bookcase to land in Dobby’s hands. The Aethonian’s neck was straining, but the house-elf appeared to have clamped its magic around the figure, as Marble’s wings remained against his back and nothing else moved.

“Marble!” cried Harry. He took a step towards Dobby. “What are you doing? Let him go!”

“Not until Harry Potter agrees he will not go back to Hogwarts,” said Dobby, firmly.

“I can’t!” Harry shouted, clenching his fists.

“Then Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter,” the elf said, mournfully, and disappeared with a loud pop! An equally loud noise from outside told Harry where he’d gone. Running for the back door, Harry managed one step into the yard and then froze, his heart in his throat.

The crazy house-elf was standing on the roof of the shed, holding Marble over the edge of it.

“MARBLE!” Harry screamed.

Dobby let the Aethonian go.

The crack of someone Apparating into the yard was not loud enough to cover the terrible sound of Marble hitting the ground and shattering into pieces.


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