Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 3
“What’s his name?” a voice said from in front of his face.

“Dunno, the neighbor who called it in said they weren’t sure what his name was or who he belonged to,” another voice, a male this time, said from his other side.

“How do you not know your neighbor’s names?” the first voice said, rather incredulously.

“Just moved in, maybe? I dunno. You ready to move him?” a third voice said by his feet.

“One second,” the second voice said, shuffling some papers around. “Ok, laddie, we’re gonna move you onto a different bed here.”

Harry felt the world tilt suddenly and a hard board was shoved under his back. He winced as the board grazed along his back, sending waves of pain shooting down his spine and through his legs. His arms spasmed involuntarily causing him to nearly smack the man standing next to him in the stomach. His head was swimming and he was extremely confused. What had happened? Where was he?

“Sorry about that laddie!” the male voice said. “Might want to check him for any fractures, he keeps wincing whenever his back is moved. One more move, lad, then you’ll be more comfortable. Count of three!”

“One, two, THREE!” the female voice counted as he was pulled bodily from whatever he had been laying onto a only slightly more comfortable cot.

The movement was far from smoothe, leading him to cry out as his back twisted slightly at the transfer. His arms and knees bent involuntarily as he panted and moaned. Why were they hurting him? What happened? Where was he?! He tried to open his eyes only to find the world was extremely blurry and the light overhead was a piercingly bright fluorescent. This was definitely not Hogwarts’s hospital wing.

“Sorry bud!” the female voice said, raising a bar next to him with a loud click. “Thanks Marcus! Have a good day!”

“You too, Lizzy,” the man’s voice said, another loud clunk was heard before the sound of the man’s footsteps was heard.

“Oh, there’s some cookies in the break room if you want any!” the other female voice, a slightly younger woman, said as she moved to the other side of the cot, clicking another rail into place.

“No thanks, Mads!” the male’s voice was heard outside of the room. “Tryin’ to stay on a diet!”

“Just thought I’d offer! See you later!” the younger woman said, before turning to Harry. “Alright, laddie, let’s get you changed out of those clothes and get your head cleaned up. You whacked it something fierce when you fell.”

Harry moaned as the two women removed his shirt and shorts and placed him in some sort of strange dress. What kind of place was this?! How did he get here?!

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to focus on what was going on around him well enough to make sense of anything. Opening his eyes hurt, moving hurt, breathing hurt. And he was so tired! Why wouldn’t they let him just sleep? Sleeping seemed like a good idea. Maybe he could get Madam Pomfrey to let him just rest and answer questions later.

“Can you wake up for me?” the older female’s voice asked loudly as her assistant removed his socks and began placing stickers on his chest.

Harry moaned and tried to open his eyes once more. The lights were just too bright for him to keep them open for long. Who were these people anyways?

“Can you grab my fingers?” she asked, placing her hands in his. “Goodness your hands are shaky!”

Harry squeezed as well as he could, though his fingers were twitching fiercely and he didn’t feel as though he were making a good impression on the healer who was with him. Was he at St Mungo’s? Did they have fluorescent lights? Where was he?

“Good job!” the voice said, prying her fingers from his quivering fingers. “Madeline, can you grab Dr. Sam for me? I want him to see this.”

Harry heard a set of footsteps rush from the room and down the hallway. From outside of the room he could hear the sound of many beeps and rapid conversations. Occasionally, a yell could be heard from down the hall and the occasional beeping alarm was heard. Telephones were ringing almost constantly outside of the room and the smell of antiseptic was overwhelming.

Not St. Mungo’s then.

But where was he? And why did he feel like he had just played Quidditch for 18 hours. That would be one hell of a game, not record breaking by any stretch of the imagination, but still. The idea of sitting on his broom for that long made his buttocks sore. He doubted he would be in that situation ever, he was generally pretty fast at finding the snitch.

Was that what happened? Was he playing Quidditch? Was he at St. Mungos?

He tried to open his eyes only to be blinded by the bright fluorescent light once more. How had he forgotten about that damned light? At least it wasn’t green. That would have been a horrible light to wake up to. Or red. Red like a cruciatus curse.

“What’s your name, laddie?” the female voice asked, shaking his shoulder gently.

“Harry,” he said softly, beginning to doze off once more.

“What’s your birthday, love?” she asked, continuing to shake his shoulder to keep him awake.

“Soon,” Harry mumbled sleepily, trying to roll over without causing himself pain.

“What date is your birthday?” she tried again.

“July 31. Everyone knows,” he mumbled angrily. Why was she asking him these questions when everyone knew when his birthday was? He was just thankful no one random had decided yet to send him presents.

“What year, Harry?” the woman prodded.

“1980,” Harry responded, trying to pull the gown over his face to better block out the light. There was something sticking him in the elbow making it hard for him to bend his arm.

“Don’t scratch that,” the woman said, gently moving his hand away from the thing in his arm. “Can you tell me what kind of building we’re in.”

“St. Mungo’s?” Harry said unsurely, continuing to try and cover himself. Why was it so cold?

“Not … quite,” the woman said. “You’re at Children’s Hospital in London. You had a seizure and were brought to St. Peter’s but you had another seizure once you got there and they decided to send you to us. What month is it Harry?”

Harry frowned in thought. He’d had a seizure? What could have caused it? Did he hit his head? Had a bludger hit his head and he couldn’t remember? Why was he so tired? Nothing made any sense in his mind and the more he thought about it the less it made sense. Was he in London or Surrey or Scotland? Where was Madam Pomfrey? She would fix him right up. She always did. Better than Lockhart, that’s for sure. Better than Snape as well. Slimy git.

“Harry, what month are we in?” the woman asked again.

“May?” Harry said, unsure if he was right or not. He knew he had been outside, but what was he doing out there?

“Today is July 20th, Harry,” the woman said pulling a blanket over his shoulders.

“Oh,” Harry mumbled. “Bludger must have hit me hard.”

A set of footsteps entered the room and Harry blearily looked towards where they had come from. A young woman had entered with a plastic bag and was placing all of his clothing in it, looking through his pockets as she did so and pulling out any objects of interest. Had he had his wand on him? He couldn’t remember. The last thing he remembered was an owl dropping two letters on his head.

“Hey Lizzy, I think I found his dad’s name!”




“FIND HIM!” the Dark Lord screamed, slamming his hand down on the throne he sat in. “Are you wizards or are you not?! FIND THAT DAMNED BOY!”

The Death Eaters had spent nearly seven hours searching the whole of Surrey for the boy, even going so far as to attempt to breach the wards surrounding his house but to no avail. The boy was missing and no one knew where he was. Normal tracking methods weren’t working, it was almost as though the boy had disappeared off the face of the planet.

“Severussss,” the Dark Lord hissed, motioning the potions master towards him as many of the other Death Eaters disapparated to continue their search. “Go to the Headmaster and ask the old man if knows anything, anything at all. We must find that boy before he goes back under the wards!”

“Yes, my lord,” Severus said, bowing low before turning to leave.

“Before you go, word has reached me that you are requesting an assistant for brewing. Is this correct?” Voldemort said with a hiss, his words dripping with thinly veiled and barely controlled anger.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus said, feeling a cool sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “I am finding it difficult to keep up with the demands placed on me to keep my cover with the old coot, attend all of the meetings and revels, and to brew the highest quality potions for you, my lord.”

Voldemort sat back in his throne and stroked his pointed, pale chin as though thinking. No one in the immediate vicinity dared move or breathe for fear of angering their master. If he was making a decision, it was best not to interrupt him in the process of doing so, even if inadvertently. Finally, after several long moments, he leaned forwards and folded his long fingers together.

“I shall grant you leave from further revels unless I summon you directly. I cannot risk your potions being less than the best, especially now,” he said calmly but dangerously. “Luciussss!”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius Malfoy said, stepping forward and kneeling in front of the man.

“Your son shall stay with Severus for the remainder of the summer. Severus will train him in potions making and alteration. Our victory can only happen sooner with two of the best potions masters in the wizarding world working for us.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Lucius said, kissing the man's robes before standing and backing himself back into his position in line.

“Oh, yes,” Voldemort said flippantly to the potions master before him. “Next time you require assistance, do not go behind my back in choosing someone.”

“No, my lord,” Severus said, steeling himself for what he knew would come. “I meant no offense.”

“None taken. Crucio.”

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