Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Story Notes:
Thank you to my Beta Readers: Lun, Hemlock, ClairBear, and my friends in Ilvermorny at IWSC for helping me puzzle over word choices.

Updates will be a while, but once I have finished the last chapter, I will be posting the rest of the story weekly.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I apologise, but there is no Severus in the first or second chapter, but I promise, it's coming and it's good.
If I Could Find A Way
Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in front of Albus Dumbledore's desecrated tomb. The thick broken slabs revealed his aged, care-worn face, never at peace, not even in death. The secrets the man had taken to the grave, the mission that he had died for, still seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

They stood on a carpet of heather beside the white, marble tomb encircled by magically-grown ebony trees. The eerie silence was as heavy as the dark clouds in the overcast sky, and no one dared to break it.

Harry placed the Elder Wand in Dumbledore’s frail, blackened hand. He would much rather speak to the portrait—a part of Dumbledore that no one could extinguish. Like so many heads before him, it hung in his old office, there to watch over Hogwarts until its end.

‘I thought I would feel better.’ Harry stood over Dumbledore, and like his mentor, his back sagged beneath the pressure of the war and the wizarding world.

The survivors were already watching, wondering how he would rescue them this time.

'Are you really going to pardon the Malfoy’s?' Arthur Weasley had asked.

The words still rang in Harry’s ears. He hadn't even completed his final year at Hogwarts.

‘How can we feel better? I just walked past Tonks…’ Hermione had been transformed when the final wand had been lowered—standing tall and proud one moment, trembling like a leaf in a bitter breeze the next.

Ron walked away from the garden, kicking the grass and leaving divots in his wake. ‘Let's face it; it's just a less crap world now. Some prejudiced arsehole will likely try again.’

Harry and Hermione followed, forcing themselves to see the battleground. Hogwarts, once magnificent, was now blackened and crumbling in the distance, and the sweet smell of smouldering cedar filled the air. Students and teachers stopped, watching their approach.

‘Will we always be expected to fight?’ Harry asked, eyeing the crowd.

Ron turned his back to the strangers, standing between them and Harry. ‘You will be. You’ll always be the Boy Who Lived. There's no undoing it.’

‘I'd give every Galleon I have in Gringotts to change it,’ Harry whispered, but with Ron as a bodyguard, his feet dragged less.

‘Kingsley wanted us to meet him at the Ministry,’ Hermione said. ‘I know it's the last place you want to be, but there’s so much to do. There are still Death Eaters on the loose.’

Harry exhaled as he rubbed his face.

As they got closer to the castle and the crowd, he shrank back, allowing his friends to flank him. They set a course for Hogsmeade.

Hermione dodged all eye contact as she rubbed her arms incessantly. It was self-soothing. Harry knew because he did the same thing.

He gave the burning forest a wide berth. The smoke stung his eyes even at a distance. It had smelt like evergreens when he had explored it with Hagrid. It had been his friend’s domain: dangerous for everyone else but not for Hagrid. Now, Harry smelt the sharp scent of smouldering pine, and the Forbidden Forest had changed forever.

‘HARRY, NO!’

He turned away, but the scene played on.

Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree. ‘NO, NO, HARRY, WHAT’RE YEH—?’

Their path wound around the hastily dug cemetery for the fallen students and teachers, but they couldn’t ignore the courtyard. Harry closed his eyes to the blurry sight of the cracked, blood-stained slabs and balled his trembling fists. It didn’t stop him from seeing Remus and Tonks. Hand in hand. Stone-cold. Dead.

He choked.

The Whomping Willow loomed over them. The thrum of Snape’s dull, slowing pulse drowned out the crackle of the forest into the distance. It withered against Harry’s palm, the hot blood pouring through his fingers regardless of the pressure he applied.

‘Look at me.’

He shook his head, hating how he had almost ignored Snape’s memories. The potions professor had gotten what he deserved, Harry thought. Neville had changed his mind, though. In so many ways, he had been the real hero today.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else. Oliver Wood, who was carrying the tiny body of Colin Creevey. Lavender, covered in gashes, and Fenrir bent over her, feasting. Fred, laughing one moment and gone the next. All of their faces were imprinted in his mind. There was no escape. The final face to flash before his eyes was Teddy’s. Just like Harry, he was alone.

‘I’m sorry. Right after you’d had your son… Remus, I’m sorry—’

‘I am sorry too,’ said Lupin. ‘Sorry I will never know him… but he will know why I died—’

He cried, his breath coming out in desperate gasps. Finally, they were coming to Hogwarts’ gates, leaving the crowds behind. No one talked. No one mentioned the tears or the sights they had avoided. Instead, they Apparated as soon as they passed through the barrier.

The sudden noise of traffic and road rage blared, loud and brazen after the solemn silence at Hogwarts. A gust of air whipped Harry’s fringe from his face as a large red bus hurtled past, and Ron pulled Harry and Hermione away from the road. They bumped into a businessman, who shoved them aside as a child giggled and pointed at the ragged group of friends.

They had appeared on the London street where they had drugged and kidnapped Ministry workers. This time they wouldn’t need a disguise. Kingsley managed the Ministry after the survivors at Hogwarts had voted him into temporary power. Despite Harry’s apprehension, he took a deep breath and walked towards the toilet entrance.

Harry and Ron left Hermione and walked down the steps to the street-side bathroom. The same sickly, cream tiles covered the walls and floor, and on the left side of the room were five rickety stalls. Last time, there had been a queue of Ministry workers and Muggles, each for very different reasons. Today, Ron and Harry were alone.

Ron peered around the door, scrunching his nose at Harry. ‘Here goes nothing.’

A small laugh managed to find its way out of Harry. Ron nodded, the humour and the disgust wiped from his face as if he knew that they had done their job.

Harry opened his cubicle. The pungent smell came in waves of stale ammonia, and the cistern didn’t look much better. He gagged and placed one tentative foot in the bowl, holding his nose as he climbed in. He pulled the chain quickly, and the smell was gone. The plumbing pulled at his body, stretching it like melted plastic, and he spun through the pipes.

Harry emerged, teetering on the spot. The sound of silence filled the vast, dome-ceilinged atrium. Much like the night he failed to save Sirius, he was practically alone. That night came into focus. It haunted him.

'There’s nothing you can do, Harry—it’s too late, Harry.' Remus’ voice echoed.

It was always too late.

Harry flinched as a hand landed on his shoulder. His knees bent, ready to run.

‘It’s just us, Harry.’ Ron stepped back, looking around the vast chamber. His eyes landed on one spot. Harry followed his friend’s line of sight.

Magic is Might.

They had seen the monstrosity of a monument before. It towered over everything. The dark colours contrasted with the white marble floors, but it was the meaning behind the imagery that made Harry’s stomach turn. Hate pulsated from it. The faces of nameless Muggles cried in agony with unwarranted realism. It demanded attention.

‘C-can we go?’ Hermione’s frail voice broke as she tugged on Harry’s arm.

He tore his attention away and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers as they turned their backs to the monument and made their way to the front desk.

‘They’re investigating the administration staff?’ Hermione asked.

The witch who usually sat behind the desk was missing. They weren’t as alone as they had thought, though; Aurors stood like sentinels around the foyer. Two guarded the elevators, and Harry, Ron and Hermione didn’t pass without question.

‘Wands.’ The Auror on the left held out his hand, his eyes narrowing on Harry.

Harry handed over his wand, the one made of holly and Fawkes’ feather. The Auror instantly snatched it. They took Ron’s and Hermione’s too, and they were all scrutinised. Finally, the Aurors cast identification charms.

‘Mr Potter,’ said the Auror with kinder eyes, ‘if you will step to the side. We need to check for Polyjuice and any other disillusionment enchantments.’

Harry followed dutifully, his eyes never leaving his wand. The Auror handed him a sweet-smelling liquid, which Harry downed in one. He didn’t hear the incantations or notice Ron and Hermione join him.

‘All clear, Mr Potter,’ said the first, now more relaxed, Auror.

As he accepted his wand back, Harry let out a long-held breath.

Level ten, that was their destination. The elevator doors shut. Harry began pulling on his fingers, tugging and cracking his knuckles one at a time.

‘Ensure the Ministry is secure, catch the Death Eaters, find any hidden spies,’ he thought, his heart thumping harder with every problem to resolve. His foot tapped as they waited for the elevator to stop.

It took them deep into the bowels of the Ministry. As it sank lower and lower, the elevator rattled and jerked, but they didn’t have to wait long. Soon the intricate golden doors opened to a familiar sight.

The Department of Mysteries.

Diamond-sparkling light and clocks filled his mind’s eye, and suddenly, he knew. He saw the green door with a polished, brass handle, and his lip curled. It was as though he had been waiting to see it. As if this had been his plan all along, he grabbed the handle.

‘You're going the wrong way,’ Ron said.

For what felt like the first time, Harry ignored him. He ran through the first door, looking for the spinning room. It would disorient him, and he wouldn’t be able to keep track, but Hermione had given him the answer.

‘He's not lost!’

Harry heard her voice chasing him down the long corridor. Shrill and anxious, she had sounded like that before.

‘Hermione,’ said Harry suddenly, ‘what if we—we just run in there, and grab Pettigrew—’

‘No,’ said Hermione in a terrified whisper. ‘Don’t you understand? We’re breaking one of the most important wizarding laws. Nobody’s supposed to change time, nobody!’

The heavy door was no barrier. Harry pushed through, and there it was: the room of doors. But which one held the answer? They were all identical. The first opened to a dark and endless abyss.

‘Flagrate.’

The footsteps behind him grew louder, moving faster, but Harry simply moved on to the next door. An icy chill escaped. He closed it.

‘Flagrate,’ he said, moving on.

Diamond-sparkling light greeted him. Ron and Hermione had caught up with him, but he was already walking through to the time room.

‘I just want to take something back,’ he said. ‘I just want to save one.’

A hundred mahogany tables lined the room in neat, orderly rows. Harry’s heavy breaths filled the room. The once-packed tables were now empty. On Harry’s last visit, he silenced a thousand timepieces. Not just silenced, he and his friends had destroyed everything the night they had tried to save Sirius.

Every Time-Turner, except one.

‘Harry…’

She said one word, and it suffocated him in ice-cold, mind-numbing reality.

‘You can’t use it,’ she said.

Harry didn’t move, but his shoulders stiffened.

‘Harry,’ Ron said, ‘look at us?’

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the last Time-Turner.

It was bigger than the one that Hermione had during their third year. Two entwined golden oak trees encased the glass bowls, and inside, moving up and down of their own accord, were the glowing sands of time.

‘How far back do you think we can go?’ Harry asked. ‘Six hours? I think that would be enough.’

’Harry, you can't change anything. Surely you know that,’ Hermione said. ‘You know from last time...’

He heard her shuffling about and pictured the restraint she was showing. Breaking the law on this magnitude was not within her comfort zone.

He reached for the golden Timer-Turner. ‘It could fix everything.’

She stepped forward, more sure of herself than before. ‘Harry—‘

‘I need to save… ’ Harry choked.

His hand fell to his side. These sands that trickled back and forth had the power to do the impossible. He spun on his heel, staring at Hermione.

'I could have taken Peter from Ron while he was in Hagrid’s hut. Think about the chain of events: we would have proved Sirius’ innocence. He wouldn’t have trapped in that house, which means he might even have been here today. You wouldn't let me. You wanted to play by the rules.’

‘The rules are there for a reason. Harry…’

He stepped back from her, running his hands through his hair, tugging until he felt a sting at his scalp.

‘Ron, please.’ Hemione took Ron’s hand in both of hers, tugging. ‘Make him see sense.’

‘Ron,’ Harry said, taking his other hand. ‘I know Time-Turners can cause a lot of damage, but they could do so much more. Where has playing by the rules ever gotten anyone? My parents died, Sirius got locked up, and the Longbottoms have been hospitalised—they’re insane. They all fought for what was right, and they all played by the rules. I’m starting to think that maybe getting your hands dirty gets things done.’

Hermione stepped back, shaking her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Harry, it’s wrong. Y-you used to be able to see that.’

‘How high is the death count, Hermione? Do you know? Look to those who don't play by the rules: the Malfoys. Narcissa Malfoy told one lie, and Kingsley might forgive everything she and her family did. Playing by the rules… ’ Harry’s laugh was hollow.

Hermione said with furrowed brows, ‘When you’re on the right side, you don’t have the luxury of doing whatever you want.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to be on the right side anymore. Maybe I want to play by their rules.’

Stepping between them, Ron pulled him into a brotherly embrace. ‘Don’t let them change you, mate. If you spoke to Kingsley about the Malfoys, he’d change his mind.’ He was strangely calm as he backed up. ‘What if we mess things up? What if we turn back time and do more damage?’

Hermione folded her arms, with her chin jutted forward. ‘He’s right, Harry. Don’t—’

‘What if we can save Fred?’ Harry shouted, angry tears finally spilling down his face. ‘Tell me you don't want that. Tell me it isn't worth the risk. I dare you!’

Ron swallowed hard, and he kept turning towards the Time-Turner, staring at it. ‘We can save Fred?’

‘Yes. He’s at the top of the list.’ Harry grinned, slapping Ron on the back. ‘We can do th—’

’You think I don't want Fred back?’ Hermione shouted. ‘Do you think there isn’t a long and extensive list of people that I wish I could save? But I can’t, and neither can you. Please, Harry.'

’You don't understand,’ Ron whispered. ‘Your parents are safe in Australia. How could you possibly understand?’

Harry grabbed the Time-Turner and felt the weight of the gold, the glass, and the sand within. It was cold against his sweaty palm, and he listened to the faint trickling of sand.

‘If you can answer that, I’ll consider not going back a few hours.’ Harry looked at her with wide, crazy eyes and a grin to match.

'Harry’—she looked at her friends, her lip trembling—'you know I can’t possibly understand what you're going through, but this won't bring your parents back. It won’t bring Sirius back. It won’t change anything. Please.’

Ron placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. ’I'll come for the ride.’

‘Come with us?’ Harry looked at Hermione, pleading with his eyes. ‘Please? You're like a sister to me. You're the only family I have.’

‘No,’ said Hermione, her voice breaking. ‘You’re letting them change you. This is wrong, and I can’t watch you give in like this.’

Harry tested the Time-Turner, feeling how smoothly the glass bowls moved. There was so much promise at this moment.

‘Please, Hermione? I’ll go without you if I have to,’ Harry said.

‘Please, don’t do this.’

Harry began his turns, just like he recalled, one for each hour. He turned the glass bowls within the golden casing five perfectly.

‘Stop!’ Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm.

Harry couldn’t complete the sixth turn. For an eternity, her nails bit into him. His eyes flickered to the date and time along the top of the Time-Turner. The numbers changed faster than he could follow, but the year told him everything he needed to know; this Time-Turner’s reach far exceeded that of a clock.

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