Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:

A/N: Revised chapter

Chapter 4

The next day, when Harry awoke and stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, he found the Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry waiting for him. Mrs. Weasley was cooking and, as soon as he sat down, put a plate heaped high with eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. Harry eyed it with some trepidation. It had, after all, been some time since he had eaten that much.

“Good morning, Harry,” Albus Dumbledore said.

“Good morning, sir,” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

“I’m afraid you won’t be going back to your aunt’s house this summer, Harry. I’ve found somewhere else for you to go.” Harry looked at the Headmaster in some confusion, excited not to be going back to Little Winging, but wondering where else he would be sent. He couldn’t think of anywhere but Hogwarts or the Burrow.

“Where will I go, sir?” Harry asked before taking another bite of toast.

“Professor Snape has agreed to take you in.”

Harry choked. “Snape?” he gasped.

“Yes, all that he requests is that you follow the rules. And it might be a good opportunity for you to work on your Occlumency, too.”

“But, but, but,” Harry spluttered, “what if Snape gets summoned? And what about the list of chores Aunt Petunia left?” Harry was grasping at straws, there, he knew, but he loathed Snape. It was almost as much his fault as Harry’s that Sirius had died.

“I am sure your chores can be taken care of,” the Headmaster smiled. “Severus will tell Lord Voldemort that he is giving you the opportunity to study the Dark Arts without my knowledge. I dare say he will believe that, don’t you, Harry?” The Headmaster of Hogwarts peered over his glasses at Harry. Harry looked down at his plate. He knew Dumbledore was referring to attempt to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Yes sir.”

“Eat up, Harry,” Molly Weasley said suddenly, “Professor Snape should be here soon.”

“I’m not really hungry anymore, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll just go wash up and get changed so I’ll be ready when its time to leave.” Harry slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “Snape!” he thought to himself in disgust.

A few moments later, just as Harry was putting his things back in his trunk, which he had found in his room when he awoke that morning, the sound of the front door told Harry that someone had just arrived. Probably Snape. Mrs. Weasley confirmed his suspicions. “Harry, she called. “Come on down, dear, Professor Snape’s here!” Harry closed his trunk and began trying to tug it one handed down the stairs behind him.

Meanwhile, Molly Weasley was talking to Professor Snape in the hallway just above the kitchen stairs. She approached him with a determined air, as though she doubted he would appreciate her efforts, but she had decided she must speak with him anyway. “Severus,” she said carefully.

“Molly,” he acknowledged.

“Make certain Harry eats, will you? And take good care of him. He is not...entirely well just now.” She looked closely at him. It was apparent that she loved the boy from the maternal gleam in her eye.

Snape just rolled his eyes. “Molly,” he sighed, “I am hardly going to hand him over to the Dark Lord, nor am I going to string him up by his thumbs, regardless of how tempting it is.” He glanced toward the door and wondered where that blasted boy was.

Suddenly after a flurry of bumps, he saw the boy land on his rump on the floor with his trunk beside him. It was not a soft landing, and Severus walked toward him in some concern, though he advanced at a much more sedate pace than Molly Weasley, who immediately ran to him.

“Harry!” she gasped, “are you all right?”

“’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.” He looked slightly winded but was picking himself up, nevertheless.

“But what happened, dear?”

“I lost control of the trunk.” he said, blushing a little and glaring at the offending luggage.

Severus strode forward and murmured, ”Can’t even carry a trunk downstairs, eh, Potter?” The glare was intensified and transferred from the trunk to his person. Mrs. Weasley also cast a reproachful glance at him. “All ready then, Potter? I wouldn’t want to rush you, after all,” he asked in mock civility.

“I’m ready,” Harry said, lifting his chin in quiet defiance.

“As long as you are in my care, Potter, you will address me with proper respect. Is that clear?” His gaze was hard.

“Crystal, Professor Snape.”

Snape glowered at him a moment longer, then turned. “Come,” he ordered.

Potter, he noticed, turned to Molly and gave her a hug. “Say hello to Ron and Hermione for me, will you?” he asked, “and Ginny and the twins too?”

She nodded and made to shoo him along. “Don’t keep Professor Snape waiting, dear. And be good!”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” he said with a small smile. Severus turned at the door and stood impatiently. Potter picked up the handle of his trunk and an empty wire cage and began dragging it.

Severus noticed that he seemed to be struggling slightly more than he should, but he immediately wrote it off as fishing for attention. “Hurry up, boy!” he snapped. Harry jumped slightly, very slightly, though he quickly recovered, glaring at him but redoubled his efforts. Soon he and Harry were standing outside Number 12, and Severus put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. With a pop, the pair dissapparated.

They reappeared outside a house that appeared to be old and was very isolated. It was a large house, obviously belonging to an estate that was the seat of a wealthy and moderately powerful family, though upon closer inspection there were scattered hints that that family had fallen upon hard times.

The taller of the two began walking toward the rather imposing edifice. “Come along, Potter, I haven’t got all day!” he called over his shoulder. With a flick of his wand the large trunk rose off the ground and began floating along behind him. As amusing as it would be to watch the impertinent brat struggling, Snape wanted to get Potter inside and establish the ground rules of his stay. He didn’t want to have to answer questions from any of his...acquaintances...who might drop by just yet, and he had thought of several new techniques he wanted to test, in addition to a list of things Poppy needed and the Dark Lord had requested. Maybe he could put off brewing a few of the darker potions for a time, using Potter as an excuse, of course.

Soon they had reached the entrance hall and Severus snapped his fingers. Instantly a small green house elf appeared before him. “Cinder,” he permitted his face to soften slightly as he gazed upon the small creature who had known him since birth. “This is Mr. Harry Potter. Put his things in one of the guest rooms and see that you set two places for lunch.”

“Yes, Master Severus, sir,” the house elf said, snapping her fingers as Harry’s trunk once again levitated into the air. This time it followed the house elf and both disappeared down a dark hallway.

Suddenly the Potions Master whirled on Harry. “I think we should go over a few rules, don’t you? You will not give my elf a hard time, nor will you distract it as you do that ridiculous creature, Dobby. You will treat me with respect. You will do as I tell you. Occlumency lessons will be from nine to eleven a.m. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You will ask me before leaving the house. You will not go wandering about my house poking your nose into things that do not belong to you.” Harry, who had been meeting his gaze, flushed and looked down. It was obvious that both of them were thinking of the pensieve incident earlier that year. “And Potter,” Harry glanced up, “when you are not with me, you will be in your room. I’m sure you can find some way of entertaining yourself there. Come,” he barked, abruptly walking off down the same hall the house elf and his trunk had gone down earlier. “That is the dining room. You will find your way to it and eat at least twice a day. I want no melodrama from you, Potter.”

As they passed the doorway, Harry peeked in and glimpsed a long table in an elegantly appointed room. They continued and, after a few more turns and a flight of stairs, Snape stopped and pushed open a door. “This is your room. See that it stays neat; Cinder will not be cleaning up after you.”

Harry entered with a nod. He sat Hedwig’s cage down on a desk and looked around. The room was done in blues. It was simple, but nice. Nothing was broken or even visibly patched. It was better than anything Harry had ever been given before. He continued gazing around with wonder.

“If everything meets with you approval,” a cold vice cut into his reflections. Harry turned to look at his professor. “Lunch is in two hours. You will be there.”

He had turned to go when Harry said, “Wait, where will you be, sir?”

Snape sneered as if questioning whether or not Harry was seriously asking. “I see no reason to tell you where my rooms are; I have no desire to be the victim of any expressions of your sense of humor. If you need me, you can ask Cinder to find me.”

With a final swirl of his robes Snape stalked off down the hallway and out of sight. Harry’s cheeks were flushed angrily, but after a moment he turned back to resume his inspection of his new room.

A bed, surprisingly soft, a desk, and a chest of drawers comprised the furnishings. Harry’s trunk sat at the foot of the bed. Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his clothes. It looked like he was going to be there a while, so he might as well put his things away properly. As he did he mused on how odd it seemed to get such nice things form Snape, of all people. Harry had no delusions on this matter; he was not wanted in this house. But he hadn’t been wanted at the Dursleys' house, either. They had shoved him into a closet for ten years then moved him to a too small room filled with broken toys, ripped books, and very battered furniture. Even at Hogwarts, the one place he considered home, the furniture was slightly worn-looking from the generations of witches- and wizards-in-training who had used it, and there was no privacy. Even abandoned girls’ bathrooms were usually haunted by some ghost or shade.

Harry finished unpacking quickly and was seated on the bed, thinking and absently tracing a design on the coverlet when Cinder appeared in his doorway to announce lunch. Harry rose and followed the hose elf to the dining room. Snape was already seated at the head of the table. Harry was idly wondering how far away he could sit without getting into trouble when his professor spoke, “Potter, so glad you could join us.” Harry briefly considered being angry, but decided that it was too much effort and anyway that was positively kind for Snape.

He wasn’t really sure why, but something about the house was reminding him very strongly of Sirius. The boy couldn’t help wishing his godfather was there, but quickly repressed the thought. No reason to give Snape any more ammunition.

The two passed a mostly quiet meal. Severus silently eyed the small amount that Harry ate. Well, if the boy wanted to make himself sick, who was he to stand in his way? He watched as Harry suddenly stood up from the table without excusing himself, honestly, did the boy have no manners? Well, maybe he could change that, too. No reason why this shouldn’t be a productive summer, after all, he smirked cruelly. Potter-baiting was always entertaining, it always had been, and he assumed it always would be.

The subject of these thoughts was currently reentering his room. Snape was a snarky bastard. Harry had seen him watching him at lunch. Harry hated being stared at; it was so annoying. Not to mention he would have assumed that Snape’s house would be the one place in the wizarding world he would be safe from all that. After all, he was the one who had said "clearly fame isn’t everything,” the first time they’d met. Harry huffed and flopped on the bed, which was when he realized that he was tired. It had been a rather hectic morning, and two weeks of starvation-rations and copious amounts of yard work had taken more of his strength than he was willing to admit.

Harry was walking down a very familiar corridor. Not this again, he moaned. Upon opening a door he found himself in the room with the veil and the dais. Harry walked toward the dais sadly.

Suddenly, the veil began fluttering, though Harry could feel no breeze. A hand pushed it aside, and there stood Sirius. Harry rushed toward him, but stopped abruptly upon seeing his cold eyes and outstretched hand, ordering him to halt. The veil moved again and Sirius was joined by Cedric Diggory and Lily and James Potter. Harry just stood there watching them, and they watched him.

Finally Cedric opened his mouth. “It’s your fault.”

“What,” Harry asked, startled.

“Your fault,” Sirius repeated.

“That we died,” Lily and James clarified, speaking in unison.

“But I never meant for you to die!” Harry protested violently.

“But we are dead,” James replied.

“And it’s your fault,” Sirius declared.

“I, I’m sorry,” Harry stuttered. “I didn’t want you to die!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Cedric proclaimed with a steely expression.

“You must join us to prove your remorse,” Lily declared. The four wraiths advanced on him. Harry began struggling frantically as they seized him and dragged him up to the dais and tried to force him behind the veil.

“NO! NOOO!” he was shouting.

“MR. POTTER!” the sudden noise brought him out of his nightmare and he jerked upright, gasping. “Mr. Potter, must you seek attention even in your sleep?” The hard but quiet words brought Harry back to himself more quickly than his Uncle’s roaring ever had. “Mr. Potter,” Severus repeated himself, seeing that the boy still looked fairly disoriented.

Harry turned to the older man and blinked. “Professor Snape?” he asked wondering for a moment what the man was doing in Privet Drive when he suddenly remembered everything. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, sir,” he said as he once again fell backwards against the bed. Snape jut stood there for another moment. Harry wondered if that had been the wrong response. His uncle always demanded an apology, though he did very little to acknowledge it, Harry thought to himself wryly. He was just beginning to get nervous when his professor turned away and walked down the hall.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw this. After a few more moments he sat up and walked to the desk. Since he had the opportunity this summer, he might as well start his summer homework early. It would be nice not to have to wait until two a.m. for a change.

Snape meanwhile walked down to his private lab. He had better start making some Dreamless Sleep potion if he wanted to get any rest this summer.

Dinner that night was another tense and very quiet affair. Once again Severus couldn’t help noticing how little the boy ate. Just as Harry was about to get up Severus spoke. “Have you no manners, boy?” he growled.

“What?” Harry asked.

"Manners, boy! Didn’t your Aunt and Uncle ever teach you any manners, Potter?” Severus had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

Harry just looked at him, who was he to speak of manners? “Of course they did,” he said finally. He knew to say sir and ma’am; he knew to be quiet and unobtrusive, and not to ask questions.

“Well,” Severus paused, “Use them!” Harry just looked at him. What did Snape want from him, he wondered. “Say ‘excuse me,’” Snape sighed noisily while rolling his eyes. Really, the boy’s ignorance was ridiculous.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Harry said, getting up from the table and walking away.

Severus nodded and let him get nearly to the door before he spoke again. “Potter,” the boy paused. “Don’t forget we have Occlumency lessons tomorrow.” The boy nodded and continued walking.

Snape rubbed his temples. That boy was perhaps the single most annoying example of youth he had ever met. Perhaps he had better add a simple headache potion to the list of things he had to brew this summer.


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