Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 8

Harry gaped at the silver thing as it finished speaking and faded away. “Wha—?” he tried, but Snape was already swearing and springing up from his chair. A quick wand wave later, and yet another silver thing was standing in front of Snape. It looked . . . like a deer, Harry realised.

 

“Albus, Fudge is on his way here. I may need your assistance,” Snape was saying, and then the insubstantial silver doe was turning and bounding away – through the wall, just as the other one had entered by.

 

“Sir, what was that?” Harry asked, but there came a crack from outside, and Snape whirled to face the front door, his body tense and wand pointed threateningly, just as someone knocked on the door.

 

“Snape, I know you’re in there,” a smarmy voice called. The very same voice the first silver thing had spoken in. “If you don’t open the door, I will stand back and let the Aurors deal with you.”

 

Growling under his breath, Snape flicked his wand. Harry heard the front door click open, but Snape made no move towards the door. Instead, he moved so that he was standing between it and Harry.

 

Given Snape’s reaction, Harry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the man who entered wasn’t it. He was just on the short side of average, with a receding hairline. His remaining hair was short and fine but already mostly grey. He also had the spreading figure of a man who spent most of his time sitting down, and who enjoyed big lunches and even larger dinners. His cheeks were flushed red, and he wore a peculiar expression, somewhere between anxious and furious.

 

But it was his clothes that made Harry stare at him the most. The man appeared to have made an effort to dress like a Muggle – suit, tie, hat – but he’d gotten it completely wrong. The hat was a lurid yellow bowler, the tie was a glaringly pink-with-red-polka-dots bowtie, and the suit . . . was a ladies’ suit, complete with skirt.

 

Harry choked, and had to turn away, biting savagely on his hand to stop himself from bursting out into hysterical laughter.

 

“What do you want, Fudge?” Snape snarled, after one blink at the man’s attire.

 

“As Minister, it is my duty to be aware of the safety of the Boy-Who-Lived at all times,” the man replied, clasping his hands behind his back and raising himself up slightly on the balls of his feet. His voice positively dripped with oil. “That includes knowing when he has been taken from the sanctuary of his relatives.”

 

“Really?” Snape folded his arms, and although Harry couldn’t see his face, he had no doubt that the professor was raising an eyebrow at the strange man. “‘Taken from’ implies that he left his relatives unwillingly, and ‘sanctuary’ implies that it was a safe place. However, neither of those implications is true; which doesn’t say much for your duty to be aware, does it . . . Minister.”

 

“Now look here, Snape,” the man began to bluster, but he was interrupted by another crack – this time coming from the kitchen behind them. Everybody swung their heads around in time to see a beaming Dumbledore amble out.

 

“My dear Cornelius,” he greeted, cheerfully. “Fancy meeting you here!”

 

“D-dumbledore?” the man spluttered, and Harry rather thought he looked as though he wanted to turn tail and flee. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

 

“Why, visiting one of my professors, of course,” Dumbledore replied, as if surprised the man had to ask. He smiled benevolently at the man, whose face was starting to turn a rather vivid scarlet.

 

“Now see here, Dumbledore,” the man said, sternly, drawing himself up as straight as he could. “It isn’t right – the Saviour living here, with—”

 

“A trusted professor?” Dumbledore interrupted, crossing the room and laying a hand on the man’s arm. The man winced, although the headmaster’s grip didn’t look that tight. “Really, Cornelius, if Harry is safe enough with my professor during the school year – and he obviously isn’t injured, is he – then why on earth wouldn’t he be just as safe during the summer? But if you really want to discuss this further, then perhaps we should step outside . . . ?” And before he knew it, the stranger was being all but frog-marched out of the house.

 

Snape made a sound of disgust, and holstered his wand again. Crossing the room, he gripped the front door and slammed it shut in a display of temper.

 

“Um, sir?” Harry asked, tentatively. Snape was obviously furious, and Harry didn’t want to unleash that rage upon himself. “Who was that?”

 

“That,” Snape said through gritted teeth, “was Cornelius Fudge, our illustrious Minister of Magic. Goodness knows why on earth people voted him into office,” he added, more to himself than to Harry.

 

“Uh, what did he want? And what was that silver thing that came first?”

 

Snape spun around and folded his arms tightly. “Apparently his spies told him you were no longer with your relatives, and he came hoping to get you under his control. After all, with the prestige of the Boy-Who-Lived as his ward, he’d never be prised from his extravagant position.”

 

Harry shuddered. The prospect sounded just as appealing as living with the Dursleys.

 

“As to ‘that silver thing’,” Snape continued, “it’s called a patronus. Its primary function is to guard against Dark creatures such as dementors or lethifolds, but it can also serve as a messenger.”

 

“Is it hard to learn?” Harry asked, his interest piqued.

 

“Yes,” said Snape, brusquely, and refused to say anything more about it.

 

 


Not long after Fudge’s visit, Severus hustled Potter off to bed, although he did graciously allow the boy to take the book he’d been reading earlier with him. Although he kept half an ear out, it appeared that Potter’s subconscious had decreed one nightmare per twenty-four hours was all he could handle.

 

The following morning, Severus spent several informative hours brewing an experimental potion – one to allow flowers and other plants to grow out of concrete. The potion still didn’t work when he finally took a break for lunch, but he’d at least learnt that green hawthorn sprigs did not mix well with dandelion fluff, armadillo bile, tubeworms, or lovage. The scorched back wall with the dent in the middle proved that pomegranate really should not be brought anywhere near crocodile parts.

 

When he returned to the house, he was gratified to see that his estimation of the amount of Muggle paper to buy for Potter had been correct. Potter was three-quarters of the way through his first one already.

 

After lunch – which was sandwiches and salad – Severus transfigured a small thimble into an amulet, which he painlessly inserted just under the skin above Potter’s collarbone.

 

“There,” he said, with satisfaction, stepping away from the boy as he lifted a hand to prod at the spot. “If – no, when you get into trouble, Potter,” his hard stare met the brat’s mutinous glare, “then just push on that spot twice, and the emergency portkey will activate, bringing you back here.”

 

“What’s a portkey?” Potter asked, curiously. He suddenly looked wary. “Is it anything like apparating?”

 

Severus actually found himself uncertain and hesitating. He’d never had to explain the mechanics of wizarding travel before. “It is . . . not dissimilar to apparating,” he finally conceded, “although it uses the magic of the charm, rather than the magic of the person using it.”

 

“Guess I’ll try to avoid having to use it, then,” Potter said. He lifted his hand again and gingerly felt around the area. “What happens if my hands get tied up?” he suddenly asked.

 

“Are you expecting your hands to be tied up?” asked Severus, raising a dubious eyebrow at him.

 

“Fine; what if I break my wrist, then?” Potter said with a sigh and a jerky movement of his eyes that made Severus suspect he’d come very close to rolling them.

 

“Then you may use your chin, or your cheek,” Severus informed him. He cast a quick tempus. “I presume you will be wanting to spend this afternoon out at the . . . park?” He couldn’t prevent the sneer that curled the word ‘park’. The little area where he’d first met Lily had been rundown even back then, and with anyone with money moving away from Spinner’s End as soon as they possibly could, then the area had not become any more presentable over the years.

 

“Yes, please, sir!” the boy said enthusiastically. He was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

“Very well.” Severus crossed to the front door and opened it, then stood back to let Potter pass by him. “You’ll find it that way,” he said, pointing to the right. “Be back by seven, Potter.”

 

“Seven. Yessir,” Potter agreed, eager to be off.

 

“Seven exactly, Potter!” Severus warned, folding his arms. “I shall be here waiting, since you won’t be able to get back in through the ward otherwise. If you are more than ten minutes late, I shall leave you to sleep outside.”

 

“Yessir, seven on the dot,” said Potter. He was darting looks down the street.

 

Severus sighed. “Off you go, then,” he said, and the boy disappeared so fast he all but left a cloud of dust behind him. Stepping back inside the house, Severus shut the door, and then cast his patronus. “The boy has gone out, Albus,” he dictated to it. “We have a while before he comes back, so it will be safe to talk.” He gestured with his wand, and his doe blinked limpid eyes at him, then turned and bounded off through the wall.

 

Much quicker than Severus had expected, a soft crack heralded Albus’ arrival. Severus folded his arms and glared at his employer. “You were hiding out behind my lab, weren’t you?” he accused.

 

“Ah, no, but I may have been travelling through Berwick when your patronus found me,” Albus admitted, cheerfully. He seated himself in the spare armchair, and raised his wand. “Tea?”

 

“Oh, go ahead,” Severus grumbled, and sat in his own chair before accepting the large china cup filled with tea that Albus had conjured. He sipped at the tea, and made a face, before putting the cup aside on the arm of the chair. Albus always made his tea far too sweet. It was a wonder the man hadn’t lost all his teeth decades ago. “How did Fudge find out Potter was here so fast?” he asked, bluntly, seeing no reason not to head straight to the point.

 

“Apparently one of his spies noticed the paperwork generated when the wards at Privet Drive finally fell,” Albus explained, sipping his own tea and closing his eyes to savour it.

 

“But—” Severus paused for a moment. “Didn’t the wards fall back in December? When the family moved away without Potter?”

 

Albus sighed mournfully, and lowered his cup to rest it on his knee. “Apparently blood wards work a little differently than I had expected,” he said. “Providing the blood conduit – in this case, Petunia – is willing, the wards can protect anywhere the protectee considers home without necessarily living there themselves. Harry may not have thought it a good home, but as far as he knew, it was still where he lived and would return to. The wards did not fall until he saw the empty house and realised what had happened.”

 

Severus raised an eyebrow. That seemed very careless of Albus, to not check on how the wards worked before risking the life of the Saviour of the Wizarding World to them . . . No; on second thought, Severus thought to himself, that’s EXACTLY like Albus.

 

“So what do you think the chances are that Fudge hasn’t trumpeted this news far and wide all through the Ministry?” he asked.

 

“Oh, I don’t think it’s gone quite that far yet,” Albus replied, smiling at him. He sipped from his cup again, then put it aside to hover on the air beside him. “I believe that so far Cornelius has only spoken on the matter to Lucius Malfoy.”

 

“To Luci—” Severus actually spluttered. “You think it’s a good thing that Fudge has specifically told Lucius Malfoy that the Boy-Who-Lived is unprotected?!”

 

Albus raised his eyebrows and peered at Severus. “He has you, doesn’t he?” he pointed out.

 

Severus growled at the old wizard. “You know what I mean,” he grumbled.

 

“Technically,” Albus pointed out, “Harry won’t be unprotected, as long as Petunia is alive, and as long as he is somewhere that he calls home.”

 

“And you think that will be here?!” Severus shot to his feet and began pacing – not that he could pace very far, considering the limits of his living room. “Oh, no, Albus! If I’d wanted to become a parent, I would have found someone to settle down with!”

 

“And how long would they have put up with being compared with Lily?” Albus retorted.

 

Severus froze, then whipped around to glare at the headmaster. “You dare . . . you dare to mention that!” he spat.

 

“Oh, come now, Severus,” Albus tutted, shaking his head. “If you were going to find a nice young witch to settle down with, you would have done so by now.” He lowered his voice, sympathetically. “Lily has, after all, been gone for ten years now.”

 

“I – I –” Severus couldn’t find the words to finish that sentence. Or even his voice.

 

Albus banished his teacup and slowly got to his feet. He approached Severus and rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, my dear boy,” he offered. “But we must think of Harry now. Lily’s boy,” he added, as if he thought Severus had missed that salient point. “At this moment, you are the most capable guardian Harry could ask for. Perhaps, once he returns to Hogwarts in September, things may change. But I’m afraid he must at least spend the summer here.”

 

Still motionless, Severus just watched as Albus headed for his front door. “And who knows,” Albus continued, turning to look back at Severus again. “You may come to like having the boy here, too.”

 

 


Snape hadn’t been kidding. There was an area that looked like it had once been a park of some sort – or had at least had actual grass – but now it was almost scrub land, with a rusted swing set sitting forlornly in one corner and an old roundabout that tilted alarmingly to one side and squealed like fingernails down a blackboard when Harry tried to push it around.

 

For all that, though, Harry was just pleased to be out of the house and moving. He spent several minutes just jogging around the area, before sagging against what could laughably be called a tree.

 

Just over to his left he could see the jagged remains of what had once been an iron fence, blocking off access to a stream. Although most of the iron stakes were now in pieces scattered around, given that the abandoned factory was just up the hillside from the stream and the faint whiff Harry kept getting when the breeze was blowing his way, he thought he’d better give that area a miss.

 

In front of him to his right he could see the ends of several rows of houses. Quite a few of the houses had their front windows and doors boarded up, and graffiti was scrawled across every available bit of plywood, as well as some of the end houses’ brick walls. An old woman – or at least, Harry thought it was a woman – was slowly shuffling her way up one of the streets, pushing a shopping trolley in front of her. The cart was full, but it just looked like rubbish to Harry. He was half wondering if she was homeless, when she suddenly stopped and let herself into a house halfway up the street, tugging the trolley backwards over the step. The door slammed shut with a bang that seemed to echo around the now-empty street.

 

Harry shivered, even though he wasn’t cold. This seemed to be a terrible place to live in. Of course, he couldn’t tell what the inside of the rare, occupied houses were like, but suddenly Snape’s house seemed quite posh. Maybe that’s why Snape was more angry than usual at the end of term, Harry thought. He would be as well if this was what he had to look forward to return to.

 

His introspection was interrupted by loud shouts and laughter coming from somewhere nearby. Instinctively disliking the sounds, Harry slid around behind the dubious shelter of the tree and crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to run if he had to. Dudley’s gang had trained him well.

 

But instead of coming closer, the sounds faded into the distance, and eventually, Harry stood upright again. He began wandering towards the houses, aiming more towards the edge of the estate, rather than heading straight down the road towards Snape’s house. If he was going to be here for the entire summer, it’d probably be in his best interests to know the layout of the surrounding area.

 

Just in case.

Chapter End Notes:
Wow, I think we're actually getting to a point in the story where I can start advancing through the summer (*gasp* *shock* *horror* Yeah, I know. Everyone all right, there? No one fainted? No? Good.)

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