Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Happy New Year! I apologize for my lack of updates. I will try to update on a regular basis. (Hopefully)

ENJOY!
Chapter 9: Relics and Runes

Harry didn’t feel like going to the Great Hall. There was a lot on his mind. The person who cursed his broom was an adult. He was glad that Professor Snape said that he was going to find out who it was, but it didn’t take away that fear that someone wanted to hurt him. 


Harry walked out of the school and decided to walk around the castle. While going down the pathway towards the lake, he saw Hagrid sitting on the front steps to his cabin. A smile graced his lips as he changed directions and made his way towards Hagrid.


“Hey, Hagrid,” Harry said, walking up to the half-giant.


“Hey there, Harry,” Hagrid said.


Barking could be heard coming from inside the cabin. Harry saw that the cabin door was open.


“Hush now, you mangy mutt,” Hagrid howled into the cabin. “You know Harry.”


Harry came down during the first week to talk with Hagrid. Hagrid helped him gather some of his school supplies and bought Hedwig for his birthday. (The best birthday present ever.) 


In that first week, Harry met Fang. Even though the Napoleon Mastiff was almost twice the child’s size and weighed significantly more, Harry loved being with the dog. Harry made it a point of coming to see Fang and Hagrid as much as he could. 


“Hi, Fang,” Harry called out. 


Fang ran out of the cabin, almost knocking the half-giant off the steps, to get to Harry. The dog almost bowled the child over, but because of Harry’s practiced ability to dodge someone bigger than he was, he moved out of the way just in time. He ended up on the dog’s back. Harry played with Fang for a little bit before Hagrid invited Harry inside for tea. 


“So, how’d things going, Harry?” Hagrid asked. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”


“Yeah, sorry, Hagrid,” Harry said. His head lowered towards the table as he climbed his way on the large chair. It wasn’t noticeable because the table and chair were ten times bigger than a normal chair. 


Harry got himself accustomed to being the smallest of the first years. But here he was dwarfed by the huge furniture. It didn’t change how comfortable he felt being in the cabin. He did feel bad about not visiting more; he made it a point to change that.


“I’ll do better at coming by,” Harry promised. “I’ve been busy with classes.”


Hagrid placed a mug in front of Harry. “No problem,” Hagrid soothed. “So, what have you been up to? Now the youngest Seeker of Hogwarts.”


Even though Harry was worried that someone was trying to hurt him and tried during the Quidditch game, he couldn’t help smiling when Hagrid brought it up.


“It’s been amazing,” Harry said enthusiastically. “Hermione showed me in the trophy room that my dad was on the Quidditch team.”


Hagrid nodded his agreement with Harry’s statement, then another thought came to the giant’s mind. “Oh, yeah!” Hagrid exclaimed, getting up bumping the table. He went to the back of the cottage looking for something.


Harry jumped a little at Hagrid’s outburst. 


“Here it is,” Hagrid said, walking back towards the table. “I found this the other day,” handing Harry a small maroon book, “I wanted to give you this.”


Harry looked through the book and realized it was a photo album. On the first page were two pictures. One was of a group of boys. The other was of a girl and boy. Both pictures seemed to have been taken during their time at Hogwarts as they all had on uniforms.


The picture of the four boys: on the one end was a small plump boy (not as big as Dudley, Harry thought), next to him was a slender boy with sandy hair, but had a scar that occupied one side of his face. Next to him was another slender boy about the same size as the sandy-haired one, but his hair was black with wavy shoulder-length. The boy on the other end made Harry’s heart skip a beat. He’d only seen his dad once before, on Halloween, but seeing another picture made him realize that his father was more than a passing thought. He was real. 


Realizing that the top picture was of his dad and friends, Harry’s attention quickly went to the bottom picture: his mum. This picture had only two people in it, making it easy to know which was his mum. She was beautiful. Tears burned his throat as he looked at the red hair flowing to the side because of the wind. Her green eyes danced with a huge smile on her face. She had her arms linked with the boy standing next to her. Her head was on his shoulder. After a while of staring at his mum’s face, Harry focused on the boy standing next to her. Harry squinted his eyes, getting a closer look at the boy. He looked familiar, but couldn’t place it. 


“Hagrid,” Harry said, his tone soft. “Who is this with my mum?”


Harry slid the album across the table towards Hagrid. 


Looking down, Hagrid quickly answered, “Why that there is Professor Snape. They were best friends growing up.”


Harry slowly brought the book back towards him. The child was completely floored. His safety was his mum’s best friend. Professor Snape knew his mum. There was someone that knew her and could tell him about her. Professor Snape was his mum’s friend. 


The rest of his time with Hagrid went by quickly as Harry stopped talking and stared at the two pictures on the first page. The boy needed to get back to the castle. Absent-mindedly, Harry walked out of Hagrid’s hut promising that he would visit him and Fang more often.


Harry was in a kind of auto-pilot as he walked back towards the castle. He had a lot on his mind and it mostly dealt with the photo album that was snuggled tightly in his arms. 



___000___000___000

Harry walked back towards the castle not knowing how he was feeling. So much had come to light for the child in the span of a few hours: an adult was trying to hurt him, and his safety knew his mum.


Not paying attention to where he was going, Harry bumped into something and fell back on the floor. Pain shot up his back from his bottom hitting the ground. The album tumbled out of his grasp. 


Looking up, Harry saw that he bumped into Professor Quirrell. 


“Sorry, Professor,” Harry mumbled, reaching for his book. It floated away before Harry could get his fingers around the spine of the album. “Hey,” his tone taking on a more harsh tone, “give that back.”


That book had his parents in there. He never had anything on his parents. The one picture he saw on Halloween pales in comparison to the album. 


“Mr. Potter,” Quirrell snarled. “Are we taking books from the school?”


Harry was so focused on getting his book back that he didn’t realize that the Professor’s speech was lacking his usual stutter. Not thinking, Harry rushed his Defense professor in an attempt to reclaim his album, but when he touched Quirrell’s robe, his scar started hurting. It was like someone was stabbing his forehead with thousands of sharp knives. The pain was too much that he fell back on his knees clutching his head. 


“Is there a problem, Harry?” Quirrell asked with a smirk. He was about to kneel next to the boy when he heard someone screaming the child’s name. 


After Harry left, Hagrid began cleaning up the cups they had their tea and noticed that the child forgot his robes. Hagrid knew it was starting to get cold, and he didn’t want Harry to make the trek back to his cabin in the cold without his robes, so he headed towards the school.


When Hagrid got close to the castle doors, he saw poor Harry curled up in a tiny ball, clutching his head. 


“HARRY!” Hagrid roared as he rushed to the child’s side. 


“Ah, H-hagrid,” Quirrell stuttered. “I f-f-found P-p-p-otter like th-th-this.”


Hagrid looked at the professor and saw that he was holding Harry’s album.


“Thanks, Professor,” Hagrid said, picking up the small child, cradling him in his arms. Memories flooded the half-giant’s mind of carrying Harry on Sirius’ motorbike all those years ago. Reaching his hand out, Hagrid said, “I’ll take his book, Professor.”


With a slight reluctance, Quirrell handed the album over. The Defense professor watched as Hagrid carried Harry into the castle. 


___000___000___000

Harry was in so much pain he didn’t realize that he had been picked up and was being carried. The small breeze didn’t register to the child that he was moving and moving fast. 


Hagrid wasted no time as he rushed towards the Infirmary. The whining moans coming from the child slowly broke the giant’s heart as there was nothing he could do to relieve the child’s pain. 


Poppy was checking on her supplies when the doors to the Infirmary crashed open. She got ready to berate whoever came through the door like that, but the reprimand died on her tongue as she saw Hagrid carrying a child. 


“Over here, Hagrid,” Poppy said quickly, rushing over to the closest bed to the entrance. She rushed over her wand already in her hand casting a diagnosis charm.


Seeing the hurting child was Harry, Poppy noticed that the child instantly curled into a fetal position clutching his head. 


“What happened?” Poppy asked as she waited to see what was wrong with Harry. 


“I don’t know,” Hagrid replied. “He came over to my hut today. When he left he was just fine. When I saw him again it was at the front of the castle and he was curled up on the ground.”


The diagnosis scan returned that there was nothing physically wrong with Harry. She didn’t understand it because it was obvious that Harry was in pain. The matron tried to give Harry a calming drought, trying to hope it would ease the pain, but the child was so tense with pain that he couldn’t fully be aware of what was going on around him. She knew she needed help. Rushing to her office she threw a pinch of floo powder in the hearth and called Severus’ name. 


A few minutes later, the Professor dressed in all black rushed into the Infirmary. His robes billowed in his wake.


“Poppy,” Severus called out, rushing towards the bed.


“Over here, Severus,” Poppy said. “I’m at a loss. The diagnostic showed that there was nothing physically wrong, but you can see how distressed the child is. I couldn’t even give him a potion to try and soothe his pain.”


Severus could hear the panic in the matron’s voice. And hearing the cries coming from Potter, it was becoming disconcerting. Severus saw the child gripping his head, so he carefully pried the child’s hands away. 


Harry’s scar was inflamed. Traces of dried blood were on the skin around the infamous wound. He was about to reach for a soothing cream he always carried on his person, but he could smell a faint aroma of sandalwood that was used in the potion.


Poppy predicted what Severus was about to do and quickly said, “I tried to put some balm on his forehead, and that didn’t work.”


Severus, like Poppy, was at a loss as to how to soothe Harry. 


___000___000___000

Within the midst of his excruciating pain, Harry realized that he was in someone’s arms. In the back of his mind, being in this person’s arms felt familiar but knew this wasn’t the one Harry felt truly safe. 


Everything sounded muffled through the earthquake happening in the child’s head. The pain was so much that Harry wished it would all end. Never had he hurt like this. His beatings from Uncle Vernon didn’t hurt this much. Having rocks and bottles from Dudley and his friends didn’t hurt that bad. And there had been plenty of times Harry narrowly escaped without broken bones. Uncle Vernon would punish him until he couldn’t sit or walk straight for a week; rarely did Harry come back to the house without blood spilling from a cut or gash that he received from Dudley and his friends. 


Harry would gladly trade it and suffer through the beatings just to stop the excruciating pain behind his eyes. 


Harry didn’t know how much time passed when he felt the bed dip. Someone sat next to him. He felt cool fingertips slide alongside the scar on his forehead. Surprisingly, the pain started to ebb a little. Harry wanted more of that touch. The sweet relief from his head feeling like it was going to explode off his body brought tears to his eyes.


Squinting his eyes, Harry saw the blurry figure of his safety. Withstanding all the pain, Harry crawled onto Severus’ lap. He wrapped his arms around the Potion Master’s neck while burying his face in the hollow crook of the man’s neck. He draped himself on Severus’ chest with his knees squeezing the man’s sides.    


___000___000___000

Bill walked into the Ministry of Magic. He never got tired of going there. The atrium was magnificent. He could do without an oversize draper of Minister Fudge, but it can’t be all perfect. 


The vestibule wasn’t as crowded as it normally was. It wouldn’t take long for Bill to reach his destination. Taking the elevator, Bill went to the Hall of Records. There were ancient runes he found around the base of the scroll. He wanted to familiarize himself with them before he started working on them. One thing he learned being a curse breaker, you didn’t just assume runes were harmless. Helping to take care of Fred and George, Bill was quite aware of the damage of small insignificant things the twins could produce. There was still a small section of floor that was permanently damaged in his room at the Burrow courtesy of his twin brothers. 


Bill found what he was looking for; the origins of the runes. But it raised more questions. Luckily, it wouldn’t be difficult to get some answers. The origin came from family. 


Walking out of the Hall of Records, Bill decided to see if his dad was still in his office. It didn’t take long. Arthur’s door was slightly ajar. Senior Weasley was fiddling with random muggle objects trying to figure out their use. 


Bill knocked on the door, getting Arthur’s attention. 


“Billy,” Arthur called out, smiling. He stood up and walked over to his oldest son.


“Hey Dad,” Bill said, smiling at the nickname he’s been called since he was small. Not that he minded. 


The two Weasleys embraced.


“What brings you here?” Arthur asked, walking back to his desk. 


“Searching for answers,” Bill answered. “Something for work, you know I can’t divulge.”


“I’m not asking,” Arthur said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Arthur knew how secretive the Goblins could be. 


“Well, this time,” Bill began, “I’m going to need some information from you.”


Shocked by this turn of events, Arthur gave his son his full attention. Arthur was proud of all his children. Yes, even the twins. He would support them the best way he could. Bill would never come and seek advice or get his opinion about his job. So, if he was coming now, it had to be important. 


“How can I help?” Arthur asked. 


“There is a mysterious charm that I’m researching for an assignment,” Bill started. “I just learned that one of Mum’s brothers was the one that created these particular runes.”


“Huh, really?” Arthur sighed. 


Bill was confused about his dad’s response.


“Don’t get me wrong,” Arthur amended. “Your uncles were exceptional wizards. And hearing that one of them created runes that stumped Goblins-I’m assuming they asked you,” Bill nod confirms his dad’s assumption. “They were..well let’s just say Fred and George and your twin uncles are very much alike.” 


Bill nodded as to the meaning of his father’s statement. Fred and George were prodigies; if only they worked their magic for good (or more safely). Bill loved his twin brothers, but he and Charlie had a wager on what would kill them first: their products or mum. 


“Your mum could probably help you,” Arthur suggested. “And even if she can’t, it would be nice to have you home for the evening.”


“Sounds great.”


“Let me clear this up, and we can go,” Arthur said. 


___000___000___000

This was becoming a regular occurrence. 


Severus sighed. 


Once again, Severus is sitting in an overstuffed armchair with Harry attached to him.


He, along with Poppy and Hagrid, was shocked when Harry crawled onto his lap. There was no mumbling of words, no tears, no mewling from pain, nothing. Just quiet.


The way Harry was lying on Severus’ shoulder, Poppy was able to get a closer look at the boy’s scar. Surprisingly, the swelling and irritation were going down. 


Being bullied by the matron, he was once again being a human-size pillow for the brat who won’t go away. 


Severus sighed again.


Honestly, Severus couldn’t say that the child’s presence was awful or annoying. The look of appreciation the child gave him when he came near made up for anything else. The boy didn’t let the rumors of his reputation of how he acted towards the students deter him. 


The only good thing about having this child, once again, velcroed to his chest was that neither Albus nor Minerva was-


“Severus, my boy.”


Severus let his head fall back causing a muted thump against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. 


“Why is it that either you or Minerva always show up when I have the human spider monkey attached to me?”


“Now, now, Severus,” Albus said, sitting on the cot next to Severus’ chair. “I just learned about what happened to poor Harry here. I didn’t expect the child to be cuddling-”


“I am not cuddling the boy,” Severus said, stopping Albus from trying to start something he didn’t want to finish.


“It had to be scary for the child,” Albus continued, not caring that Severus tried to cut him off, “to be in pain like that and there was no way to ease it.”


Severus’ irritation lowered, thinking about the pain Harry was in. He may not care for the child, but the cries were heartbreaking.


“Whatever the problem was,” Severus said. “It was with his scar. I know this is uncharted territory, but I’ve never seen a scar to cause this many problems on its own.”


“True,” Albus agreed. “But remember the scar on our dear Mr. Potter isn’t an ordinary scar. I will do some digging to see the reasons why this happened. And hope to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”


Severus nodded in agreement.


“But if it does,” Albus said, standing. “We know that you will soothe the child’s aches and pains.”


Severus’ eyes were like steel wanting to crush Dumbledore where he stood. A small growl escaped his throat. 


“Now, now, my boy,” Albus said, smiling. “There is no need for a temper tantrum.”


“Get out,” Severus growled. 


“Severus.”


“I mean it old man,” Severus snarled. 


“Is that any way to treat your dad?” Albus asked. His eyes twinkled as he smiled, looking over his half-moon glasses.


“I told you not to bring that up,” Severus said stubbornly, pointing a potion-stained finger at Albus. “It was a lapse of judgment on my part that it even happened.”


Albus left the Infirmary laughing at his adopted son.


“Insufferable old coot,” Severus muttered, bringing his hand to cradle Harry’s head while letting his fingers soothingly rub the child’s scalp.


___000___000___000

Quirrell paced back and forth in his chambers, muttering to himself. 


“There has to be a way. This is unacceptable.”


“I’m very disappointed,” said a strained voice.

“F-forgive me, Master,” Quirrell whimpered. “I-I am tr-trying.”


“NOT HARD ENOUGH!” cough, cough, wheezing breath


“Please, Master, you must stay calm,” Quirrell pleaded. “I can’t raise suspicion. The oaf of a groundskeeper almost caught me, but he hasn’t noticed the creatures yet. And we must—”


“Do not dictate orders to me,” the voice wheezed. “I may not be whole, but you will show your respect.”


“Yes, Master.”


“Now, I want you to get Potter.”


“But there are always people around to save him,” Quirrell complained. 


“Get. Me. Potter.” 


TBC


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