Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 22

The darkness in Potter’s mind was oppressive. Everywhere Snape went, it was tunnel upon black tunnel, a complex, twisting maze leading to nowhere.

“Potter, where are you?” he called, but there was no answer. It was frustrating and a bit eerie to be wandering these deserted channels. Not a speck of light or a shred of memory. Was Potter even still here? If he was, why was everything so empty and black? And where was his magic?

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard whimpering.

“Potter?” he called. He rushed through the tunnels, trying to locate the source of the sound. Just as he was getting nearer, it stopped. So, too, did the voices of his friends.

“Keep talking!” Snape shouted aloud to Granger and Weasley.

Returning his focus to Harry’s mind, his heart racing in anticipation, Snape waited. Potter’s friends had started chattering again, and so too did the sound of crying. “Potter, I’m coming,” he said, following tunnels, doubling back, trying to locate the source of the sound.

Then he saw it, a dim light in the distance. A light where there was no other light in this place of complete darkness. He raced toward it, only to come to a halt before a sphere of pulsating, arcing electricity. This clear, sparking bubble was Potter’s magic, and inside sat Potter, albeit younger than he was now. Snape lowered his wand.

“Pott… Harry, can you hear me?”

The boy was sitting on the ground, if you could call it that, his knees to his chest, his skinny arms wrapped around them, his head on his knees. The boy raised a tear-streaked face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Professor Snape, your Po… your science teacher.”

“No you’re not,” Potter responded.

“How old are you?” Snape asked.

“Nine. Why?”

Nine, Snape thought. The age Covey thought he was when he suffered the head injury that should have killed him. Snape crouched down outside the sparking sphere. “Po… Harry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to see if you were alright. We’ve been really worried about you.”

“Who’s we?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Your teachers, your friends.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Harry declared.

Snape scratched his head. This child didn’t know him from any other adult in his life, and he didn’t trust adults—for good reason.

“Why are you hiding?” Snape asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I care about all of my students,” Snape replied.

“No one cares about me,” the boy whispered, more to himself than to Snape.

“That’s not true,” Snape said. “I care about you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Harry said.

“I knew your parents,” Snape coaxed.

“My parents were killed in a car crash,” Harry asserted.

Snape was confused. Then he realized that that was what the Dursleys must have told him.

“I knew them before they died,” Snape said. “They loved you very much, Harry.”

The 9-year-old Harry curled in on himself. “I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember them.”

“But I can,” Snape said. “Your mother was my friend when I was your age. We went to school together.” He was hoping talking of the boy’s parents might draw him out, but it didn’t seem to be working.

The boy just shrugged.

“It’s awfully dark in here,” Snape commented.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” Harry stated.

“I am sure you aren’t,” Snape conceded. “But perhaps you’d like to come with me, to where it’s lighter and brighter.”

The boy shook his head.

“Why are you here?” Snape asked.

“Because no one can hurt me here.”

Snape couldn’t dispute that. “Aren’t you lonely here?”

Harry gave a bitter laugh that sent chills down Snape’s spine. For a boy of nine years old to be that jaded was heartbreaking.

“I’m sure your friends miss you, Harry.”

“I told you,” Harry said. “I don’t have any friends.”

Snape frowned. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the boy said, turning away.

“It matters to me,” Snape said.

No response.

“What if I told you that you did have friends. Two best friends. And I could bring them to you right now.”

“I’d say you were lying,” Harry replied.

“Would you mind if I proved you wrong?” Snape asked.

“Do whatever you want,” Harry said.

“Will you wait here for me?” Snape asked, afraid to lose the boy again.

“I suppose,” Harry said.

Snape pulled partially out of Harry’s mind, enough to be able to communicate with Granger and Weasley.


“You two,” Snape practically shouted, making both Hermione and Ron jump again.

“Take my hand,” Snape demanded, waving his free hand around. “I’m going to pull you inside. I found him.”

Hermione grasped Snape’s long fingers. His skin was cool to the touch. Ron grabbed onto his thumb, Ron’s palm resting against Snape’s.

“Whatever you do, do not let go.”

In the next instant, Hermione felt herself being sucked into blackness, cool air rushing against her skin. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Suddenly, she realized that she was in a tunnel, a long, dark tunnel, with a faint light in the distance. In the next instant, they stopped.

“Potter is surrounded by his magical signature. To us, that manifests as an electrically charged bubble. Do NOT touch it.” Snape commanded. “He is nine years old. He will not know you. You must convince him that you are his friends and somehow get him to want to come back.”

“Right,” Ron said, straightening his shoulders. “Let’s go, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled at Ron’s take-charge attitude. “Remember,” she said, “don’t touch the bubble.”

Together they walked to just outside the sparking sphere. It reminded Hermione of a Muggle plasma ball, except that all the blue and pink arcing electricity was on the surface instead of inside.

“Harry?” Hermione said tentatively. “I’m Hermione Granger. We haven’t met yet, but we will soon, and you’ll be our best friend.”

Nine-year-old Harry looked up, curious.

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said, “We met on the train, and we play Quidditch together. Or, at least, we will.”

“What’s Quidditch?” Harry asked.

Hermione nudged Ron and mouthed “He doesn’t know about magic yet.”

Ron’s mouth formed into an “O”.

“It’s just a game you guys made up,” Hermione covered. “We do lots of things together.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Well, for one, we go to the same school. So we have lots of subjects together.”

“And we eat lunch together,” Ron added. “And sleep in the same dorm.”

Harry looked doubtful. “You’re lying. My aunt and uncle would never pay to send me to a boarding school.”

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione elbowed him.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “in a couple of years you’ll start a new school and we become best friends.”

“So you’re from the future,” Harry said, clearly not believing them.

“Actually,” Hermione said, “we are from the same time as you. It’s just that, right now, you’ve sort of hidden yourself away at nine years old.”

Harry considered this. “I don’t believe you.”

“When I met you,” Hermione said, “you were really shy. And you were afraid all of the other kids would know way more than you. And that you wouldn’t fit in. You didn’t know it at the time, but we were all new too, and we were afraid of the same things.”

“But the school was really good, Harry,” Ron continued. “And you made lots of friends. And everyone liked you.” Ron said. “Well, except for this one git, but we don’t talk about him.”

Hermione shot him a look and Ron shut up.

“Harry, we really miss you. We were hoping you’d come back with us, so we can all be together again.”

“Why does everyone want me to leave?” Harry muttered. “I am safe here. Why can’t people just let me be for once?” To Hermione, he said: “I don’t even know you.”

“But you will,” Hermione coaxed.

“And you’re my best mate,” Ron added.

Harry shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s just it, Harry,” Hermione said soothingly. “We do know you.” Hermione glanced at Ron. “We know that your aunt and uncle aren’t very nice to you. They make you do all the housework and they don’t feed you very much and they make you sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. We know that when your uncle gets angry, he…” Hermione swallowed, “he hurts you.” In a quieter voice she added, “With his fists and feet and… and other things.” Hermione saw Harry shudder. “And we are really sorry about that. We want to take you away from all of that. We want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” Harry moaned.

“Yes, they can,” Ron said. “Professor Snape, that man standing over there, the one that found you? He works at our school. And he’s been helping you a whole lot this year. And in our second year at school, over the summer, my brothers and I drove to your house in the middle of the night and we broke you out!” Ron was building up steam and continued enthusiastically. “You had bars on your window, Harry, and we pulled them off with the car and we stole you away! Your uncle was really mad, but you got to live with me and my family for the rest of the summer. And my family really likes you. My mum always makes lots of food so you can eat as much as you want. She says the Mugg… the Dursleys don’t feed you enough.”

Harry looked up, a mix of shock and hope on his face.

“Please, Harry,” Hermione said, “Please come with us. We love you, and we want to help you. We want you to be our friend again, in our time. Please.”

“Yeah mate, no one will hurt you at school. No one will hurt you ever again, I promise!” Ron said. “I won’t let them,” Ron said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis.

“We’ll keep you safe, Harry. We promise.”

“Promise,” Ron confirmed, nodding.


Slowly, and much to Snape’s relief, Potter stood up slowly. As he did so, his magical essence started to expand outward, first encompassing Ron and Hermione, and then Snape himself, and then seeping through his whole being. Hermione reached out and took the nine-year-old Harry’s hand, while Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. As they walked, the tunnel started to expand, opening up more and more, and filling with light and color. The shadows started to recede.

“Are you ready to wake up, Harry?” Snape asked, keeping his distance.

The boy averted his eyes, scuffing his shoes on the ground. “Promise you won’t let them hurt me anymore?”

“I promise,” Snape said.

“I promise too, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Me, too,” said Ron.

“On the count of three, then,” Snape said, catching young Harry’s nod of assent.

“One – Two – Three!” Snape pulled himself, along with Weasley and Granger, out of Potter’s mind. The two teens fell to the floor, promptly picking themselves back up. Snape hadn’t moved a muscle. He vaguely recognized Covey humming in the background, a good sign indeed. But until Potter opened his eyes and spoke to them, he wouldn’t let his guard down. Maybe not even then.

Snape started counting the seconds in his head: one magic wand, two magic wands, three magic wands, four magic wands, five magic wands, six magic wands, seven ma…

Potter opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows at the same time.

Covey lifted her hands and stepped back.

“Harry!” Miss Granger screamed, rushing toward him and giving him a hug.

“Welcome back, mate,” Mr. Weasley said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

Poppy rushed over then. “Oh good heavens, Mr. Potter, you gave us all quite a fright.”

But Snape and Covey exchanged a glance. Something wasn’t right. Harry wasn’t moving, wasn’t smiling. His eyes were open, but there was no expression on his face.

“Harry?” Covey said, moving to squat before him so they were eye to eye. “Tis me, Healer Covey. Do ye remember me?”

“Cantse,” Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“What was that, dearie?” Poppy asked, leaning forward.

The monitors started beeping. Harry’s pulse was skyrocketing.

More loudly, Harry said, “I can’t see.” Pushing himself into a full sitting position, he rubbed his eyes harder. “I CAN’T SEE.” His breathing was fast and shallow, his panic clearly rising. “WHY CAN’T I SEE?” he shouted in desperation, swiveling his head this way and that.

Mr. Weasley looked dumbfounded, while Miss Granger had her hand over her mouth and appeared quite distraught.

“I CAN’T SEE!” Potter shouted again, his hands turning into claws as he started to scratch at his eyes in panic.

Snape grabbed his wrists to prevent him from injuring himself as he shouted, “Poppy, calming draught, now!”

Potter was starting to twist on the bed, fighting Snape’s hold. His feet were kicking out, his arms struggling against Snape’s grip.

Covey was speaking soothingly while trying to put her hands on his head, but he was bucking too hard to allow it.

Harry managed to get a hand free, and as Poppy brought the calming draught to his lips, his hand struck out, sending the potions bottle flying and giving Poppy another bloody nose.

Seeing things quickly getting out of hand, Snape tackled Potter back to the bed, using his strength to hold Potter’s upper body down, Potter’s wrists firmly encased in Snape’s grip.

“Weasley!” Snape yelled, “Hold his legs.”

Snape met Covey’s eyes for only a moment, but it was enough. Still holding the struggling teen, Snape said, “I’m going in.”


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