Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 7

“Harry!” Hermione cried outside of the Potions classroom. “Where were you? We’ve been incredibly worried! We asked Professor McGonagall, but all she would tell us is that you were fine and not to worry.”

“Yeah, mate,” added Ron, looking around cautiously and lowering his voice to a whisper. “When you didn’t come back to the tower last night after Occlumency, we thought Snape might have done you in.”

Harry smiled. Aside from all of his worries, he had his friends, which was much more than he’d had growing up at the Dursleys. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, Harry pulled his friends aside to a more secluded area and said, “Snape found out about the Blood Quill.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione’s mouth opened into an “O”.

“He told Dumbledore, and they made me stay overnight in the hospital wing to examine me since it’s dark magic and all.” Well, that was true enough. He wasn’t sure about how much detail he wanted to go into, nor how he felt about Snape, so he decided to leave the rest for later. “Has anything happened around here that I missed?”

Ron snorted. “Not much. When you didn’t show up for breakfast, Malfoy speculated that you had died, but of course no one believed him.”

Just then, the bell rang and they made their way into the Potions classroom, taking their regular seats at the back of the room.


After shepherding his students in and closing the door, Snape stalked to the blackboard. He had a headache and wasn’t looking forward to this class in particular. The fifth-year snakes and lions loved to antagonize each other and he had no tolerance for it. He’d had enough surprises in the last 24 hours; he certainly didn’t need anymore.

“Today we will be brewing a mind strengthening potion. You will have two hours to complete it. This potion often comes up in OWLs, so I suggest you pay special attention,” Snape intoned. “You will keep your eyes on your own potion, and if I catch anyone sabotaging another student’s work, no matter the house, you will receive a zero.” Snape locked eyes with the trouble-makers in his class, including, out of habit, Potter and his gang. “The instructions,” Snape waved his wand, “are on the board.  You may begin.”

A cacophony of stools being scraped across the stone floor echoed in the dungeon classroom as students got up from their desks and filed toward the stockroom where the ingredients were kept. While the pupils retrieved their supplies, Snape walked around the room and handed back the most recent set of essays on the many uses of powdered eel’s eyes in potions.

As the students got to work, he surveyed their progress. A sharp word here, a snide suggestion there, and his students, dimwitted as they were, generally avoided blowing up their cauldrons. This period, in particular, was fraught with mistakes as it was a double period before lunch, and the students tended to be tired and distracted.

He found himself watching Potter more closely; the boy was abysmal at potions. He used to consider the boy lazy and unmotivated, but after what the boy had shown him that fateful night in Occlumency, he began to scrutinize the boy more closely.

After all, he didn’t do as poorly in his other classes, so why this one? He no longer intimidated Potter, Snape knew, and after Potter’s efforts at proving him wrong, why did that not extend to potions? Did he dislike the subject that much?

Furthermore, Potter had made his intentions clear to McGonagall that he wanted to be an Auror, and in order to continue on with potions—a requirement to be an Auror—he would need to achieve an Outstanding on his OWLs. Thus, it was neither logical nor sensible for Potter to continue to perform so poorly in his class.

As the period was coming to a close, he walked to the back of the dungeons. Ms. Granger’s potion was near perfect, Weasley looked befuddled as usual, and Potter’s potion was…

“Atrocious as usual, Mr. Potter,” Snape remarked derisively. “Evanesco.” The potion vanished and Potter looked outraged.

“Time’s up. Bottle up a sample of your potion and leave it on my desk. Class dismissed.” Snape swept back toward the front of the classroom. “Potter, stay after class.”

Snape ignored the mutterings of the Golden Trio, considering instead a possibility that had never occurred to him before.

Potions were decanted, bottled, labeled, and set in the collection rack on his desk. He waited for the students to file out, shooing out Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger before closing the classroom door. Potter, he knew, was livid.

“Potter,” Snape said, noting the tension in the boy’s shoulders and the loathing in his eyes. He had been watching him closely all class and now came to stand beside him, facing the board. “Read the ingredients on the board to me.”

The shell of an English edgerbrind, pulverized
2 riggleworms, whole
¼ tsp powdered root of asphodel
8 baileywick pods, crushed
6 frog legs, diced
1 pinch heliotrope

Potter breathed heavily as he recited the ingredients, line by line. “The shell of an English edgerbrind, pulverized; two riggleworms, whole; one-half teaspoon powdered root of asphodel, three baileywick pods, crushed; six frog legs, diced; and one pinch heliobore.”

Snape frowned. Two possibilities ran through his mind. One was rare, while the other…

Snape pulled a piece of scrap parchment from his robes and set it on the bench. He tapped it with his wand, transferring his spiky writing from the blackboard to the parchment. He then handed it to Potter. “Read it again,” he instructed.

“I just read it!”

“Again, Potter,” Snape commanded.

Potter snatched up the parchment. “The shell of an English edgerbrind, pulverized; two riggleworms, whole; one-half…” Potter pulled the paper closer to eyes his, “no, one-fourth teaspoon powdered root of asphodel, eight—not three—baileywick pods, crushed; six frog legs, diced; and one pinch of… heliotrope.” Potter’s shoulders dropped. “Not heliobore,” he added in a whisper.

“Correct,” Snape nodded. “Tell me, when was the last time you had your eyes checked?” Snape had noticed the boy squinting every time he looked at the board. Could his poor performance be as simple as that? His other thought had been dyslexia, which was extremely rare in wizards and typically only seen in Muggleborns, but as Potter could read the ingredients up close, he had ruled it out.

“Er, I think it’s been awhile, sir.”

“How long, Potter?”

Potter bowed his head. “Primary school,” Potter all but whispered. “They had screenings in the first grade and the school notified my relatives that I needed spectacles.”

“And they never had your eyes checked after that?” Snape asked, his voice rising in outrage.

“No,” Potter said defiantly. “They said I wasn’t worth wasting the time or money on.”

“I see,” Snape said, clamping down on his anger. “You will come to my office this evening at 6 pm, where I will give you a copy of the instructions for this potion. You will have two hours to re-brew it. If you do so successfully, I will award you full marks.”

Potter looked stunned. Snape never gave students a second chance at potions.

“See that you are on time, Potter. You are dismissed.”

Leaving a bemused Potter in his wake, Snape swept from the dungeons. He found there was yet another task on his to-do list.


Potter arrived at Snape’s office at five minutes to 6pm and knocked tentatively. He had no idea how this would go. Would Snape be his usual cruel self? Would he stand over Potter and criticize his every move?

“Enter,” Snape’s voice called.

Potter stepped inside.

“Close the door and follow me,” Snape ordered.

Harry did as he was told. Snape led him to a room off the back of his office that had four lab benches. On the bench nearest the door was a cauldron, a set of ingredients, and handwritten instructions on a piece of parchment.

“You have two hours, Potter. I will be in my office if you have any questions. Do endeavor not to blow anything up.”

And with that, Harry was on his own. He was very careful to follow the instructions precisely and was pleasantly surprised when everything worked just as it should have. It was so much less stressful when he wasn’t distracted by his classmates, or feeling Snape’s cold eyes weighing his every movement.

Harry finished in a little under 90 minutes. Pleased with what he’d accomplished, he stepped back into Snape’s office. “I’m finished, sir.”

Snape looked up at Harry before checking the time. Then he rose, silently, and came to look over Potter’s progress. Snape stirred the potion once, clockwise, and then leaned in to inhale its aroma.

“This appears to be adequate, Potter. Decant two full vials. Then clean up your work area and meet me in my office. Bring the vials.”

Harry quickly did as he was told, excited to have met Snape’s exacting standards and to be getting out of Snape’s office early. When he was finished, he brought the small bottles into Snape’s office and set them on his desk.

“Have a seat,” Snape directed. “How are you feeling after last night?”

“Fine,” Harry answered, squirming under the potion master’s scrutiny. 

“No ill effects from removing the dark magic from the Blood Quill?”

Harry thought about it. “No, I don’t think so.” Remembering Snape curled up in pain on the bed next to him, Harry impulsively blurted out, “What about you?”

Snape gave him a sardonic look but didn’t answer. Instead, he uncorked one vial of the potion that Potter had brewed and handed it to him.

Then he picked up the other vial himself, removed the stopper, and saluted the boy across the desk from him. “Bottoms up,” he said and swallowed the potion in one long gulp.

Harry was startled. Had his second-most hated potions professor (second only to Umbridge, of course), the one that told Harry he was atrocious at potions, just drank the potion that he, Harry, had brewed? At Snape’s expectant look, Harry downed his vial as well.

“Let me see your hand,” Snape said.

Harry held out his right hand.

“Your other hand,” Snape hissed.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He felt like an idiot. He held out his left hand and jumped slightly when Snape took it and pulled it forward, examining the scarring on the back.

“Have you been using the ointment I gave you?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry responded. “Three times a day, like you said.” Snape was still holding his hand and it felt very awkward. Harry wanted to pull away but he wasn’t sure what was going on.

Snape nodded and pulled out his wand. “I am going to check the progress we made last night. This part shouldn’t hurt.”

Harry’s hand instinctively jerked in Snape’s.

“Be still,” Snape muttered. Then, with a wave of his wand, Harry watched as I must not tell lies glowed bright amber once again with the same colored streaks running up his arm and fingers. Unlike yesterday, the streaks only went to his mid-forearm, instead of past his elbow. And the ones that yesterday had stretched to the tips of his fingers now only reached his middle knuckle.

“It’s working,” Harry breathed, looking at Snape in astonishment.

Snape scowled. “Of course it is.” Taking a deep breath, Snape asked, “Do you know why I had you drink the mind strengthening potion?”

Harry shook his head.

“The headmaster and I think it wise to remove all traces of this curse from your body as soon as possible. The longer it remains, the more time it has to fester, and considering your cursed scar,” Snape paused to look pointedly at Harry’s forehead, “the more likely it is to become less tractable to being cured.”

“Meaning?” Harry asked.

“Meaning that if we don’t take care of it right away, it could become permanent.”

“The words?” Harry asked.

Snape scoffed. “The words are the least of our worries at the moment. Dark magic can damage tissue, and that damage can become irreversible if not tended to in a timely manner.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed, absently rubbing his forehead.

“As such, I would like to make another attempt at removing it again tonight.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. He thought he’d have a day’s reprieve, but it appeared he would not be granted that mercy.

“The mind strengthening potion should enable us to move faster in this endeavor.” Quirking an eyebrow, Snape said, “Let us hope that you brewed it well.”


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