A New Place to Stay Chapter 41 - Harry Potter

Back at Prince Manor, Harry’s new life as Severus Snape’s trainee and ward really begins. An early run leads him to the manor stables where he discovers Abraxans, Pegasi, Thestrals and a Hippogriff that Snape has quietly rescued, then breakfast turns into a growth potion that starts to undo years of malnutrition. The morning is spent brewing Hospital Wing potions side by side with Severus, but the real test comes outside when Snape forces Harry into a brutal training duel and shows him that relying on Expelliarmus will get him killed. That night, by the fire with a stack of Defense books, their lesson shifts from spell work to ethics as Severus pushes Harry to rethink “light” versus “dark” magic, why any spell can be deadly, and how even the Killing Curse can be a mercy in war. Exhausted, bruised and deeply challenged, Harry goes to bed sore but certain that this kind of hard teaching is what might actually keep him alive.

Transcript

**Chapter 41: Training, Brewing, and Dealing With Life**

Harry woke up abruptly, his breath coming in quick gasps. As he groggily sat up, the remnants of his dream slipped away from his mind.

He grabbed his wand from the bedside table, making sure it was his spare before casting the spell. It wasn't even five o'clock in the morning yet, and just recalling Severus's words from yesterday twisted his stomach into knots.

What did Severus have in mind? One thing was certain—he would never hurt him.

It was pretty ironic, really, since just last year, he had feared the Cruciatus Curse would be used on him. He had thought he might be safer with Vernon Dursley.

Looking back, it was truly laughable. So much had happened; so much had changed since then.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt confident in his own abilities—he believed he might actually survive Voldemort's attacks. Getting up, he dressed in loose-fitting clothes.

He didn’t have many anymore, now that he was being fed properly and was on a diet that suited him. The weight he’d put on was good for him.

He didn’t bother showering; there was no point since he was planning to go for a run. As he left his room and headed down the stairs, he realized he needed to buy toiletries soon.

He was running low after spending the entire year at Hogwarts. He ran for a while before stopping at the stables, a place he had never ventured into before.

Curiosity piqued, he opened the door, ignoring the sweat that drenched him and his clothes. Inside, he spotted the animals.

Was that an Abraxan? Also known as a Palomino, he had read about them in *Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them*.

They were much larger than he remembered. He had always thought they required a firm handler.

He idly wondered if these ones drank single malt whisky like the ones from France. Stepping closer to the stall, he smiled softly and held his hand palm up for the animal to sniff.

Once the creature determined that Harry posed no threat, it allowed the teenager to draw nearer. to pet him.

The feeling of the muscles beneath the coat was astonishing; they were undeniably strong and powerful. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against one of them.

"You are beautiful, aren’t you?" Harry murmured, stroking the horse in quiet awe. "Master Harry!" Rose exclaimed, clearly surprised to see him there.

"Hello, Rose," Harry replied, smiling at her as he continued to pet the creature before him. "I thought these animals needed strict handling?" he asked, turning to face her.

Curiosity sparkled in his gleaming green eyes, and his earlier worries about the morning faded away. "Normally they do, Master Harry," Rose agreed, using magic to clean up the mess left in the stall overnight before placing fresh bedding and hay in their proper places.

She worked with such efficiency and speed that it was clear she had done this many times before. "Normally?" Harry inquired, stepping aside to avoid interrupting her work.

He had never seen House-Elves as slaves; he respected them all, even if some had tried to seriously injure him in the past. He was especially fond of Dobby and was glad the little elf was staying with them.

Dobby had been quite handy, particularly at the Ministry of Magic. "Master Severus saved her," was all Rose would say on that matter.

"Is it the same for the rest?" Harry asked, surprised. "Yes, sir," Rose replied as she began to feed the animals.

The stable was filled not just with Abraxans, but also with regular horses, Pegasi, Thestrals, Aethonons, and a Hippogriff. It was vast, and there were even free stalls available, which was surprising given the number of animals currently housed there.

Harry grinned as he watched a small creature tossing dead ferrets to the Hippogriff. These animals were all incredibly useful, providing various potion ingredients, but he couldn't imagine Severus keeping them just for that reason.

Suddenly, Dobby popped in, startling Rose, who stared at him in confusion; it was her turn to feed the animals today. "Master Severus requires your—"

"Good morning, Master Potter," Dobby said cheerfully.

Rose relaxed and returned to her work. "Thanks, Dobby," Harry replied, wishing he had a watch.

Using a spell to check the time just didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was time to get one, he thought.

"Bye, Rose," he said as he quietly closed the stable door, not wanting to disturb the animals inside. As he walked back to the Manor, he pondered what Rose meant by "save." He silently vowed to explore the other buildings to see what else he might discover.

"How long have you been up?" Severus asked as soon as Harry entered the kitchen, their usual morning gathering place. "About an hour or so," Harry said, sliding into a seat where breakfast was already served.

"Vision or nightmare?" Severus inquired. His voice was gruff, but Harry could sense the concern beneath it.

Whether Severus cared or not didn’t matter; the fact that he asked meant the world to Harry. No one had ever cared enough to ask him about his dreams before.

"Neither, I don’t think; I can’t remember," Harry replied honestly after swallowing a bite of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup. "Very well," Severus said, sipping his black coffee while Harry finished his meal.

He was surprised when he had called for Dobby to wake Harry, only to find that he was already up. Harry had risen earlier than usual, just as they had planned.

Severus felt a twinge of worry about Harry's connection to the Dark Lord. His mind raced with the implications of such a bond, terrified that Voldemort might influence Harry more than anyone could foresee.

The forced tiredness was not something to dismiss lightly. It could also mean that someone in that hall had cast a spell, a possibility he preferred.

That was saying a lot, considering Severus did not want his students becoming Death Eaters. However, he would rather that than have the Dark Lord exerting influence over Harry.

He cared deeply for the young man, and the thought of Voldemort affecting him was something he couldn’t bear. During a battle, it felt like all would be lost.

Harry had become quite skilled at Occlumency, especially for someone so young who had only been practicing for less than a year. "What are we doing first?" Harry asked, pushing his empty plate away.

It was no surprise to those who knew him; he had spent most of his childhood hungry. "Drinking this," Severus replied, handing Harry an oddly colored potion.

"What is it?" Harry asked, removing the stopper. He had never seen anything like it before.

While he wasn't an expert brewer, he recognized the colors of most potions from the books he had read. Sniffing the potion, he noted that it didn't smell too bad, but he understood that appearances could be deceiving.

Many potions smelled pleasant yet tasted terrible. It reminded him of Muggle medicine, which was often just as unpalatable.

"One that will help you with your height," Severus said bluntly, watching as Harry prepared to drink the potion. This potion was much stronger than the one created by Master Wiltsworth a century ago.

Wiltsworth's potion was designed to assist an average teenager through a growth spurt, but that was of little use to Harry. The potion Severus had concocted was meant to counteract the years of malnutrition Harry had endured.

Neither of Harry's parents had been this short at his age. He had grown taller, but without this potion, he wouldn't grow much more.

"Didn't taste too bad," Harry murmured to himself as he finished the remaining orange juice in his goblet, washing away the lingering taste. He turned his attention back to Severus.

"Come," Severus said, rising smoothly from his seat. Harry felt a pang of envy at Severus's grace.

Even when coming through the Floo or Apparating, he appeared as if he had been standing there all along. Harry couldn't remember what he was like on a broom, as he had been too worried to pay attention.

The only time he felt graceful was when he was flying. They spent the entire morning brewing the required potions for the Hospital Wing.

Severus was focused on three different cauldrons, while Harry struggled to manage just two. One of his potions was slightly off in color because he had taken too long to add the next ingredient.

Thankfully, though, the potions were still effective at full strength. “Bottle and label them,” Severus instructed, giving Harry’s work a quick glance before returning to his own cauldrons.

Harry followed the instructions, receiving no praise, but he felt confident that they were perfect. If they hadn’t been, Severus would have discarded them; he accepted nothing less than excellence.

He carefully wrote out the labels in his best handwriting, wondering idly if Poppy recognized it. He had been in her classes all year, completing numerous essays on spells, potions, and anatomy.

The first spell she had taught them was the diagnostic spell. It had taken some time to master, as you needed to pour magic into it to reveal not just the primary injury but all injuries.

“Can I brew the number nine pain reliever?” Harry asked once he finished, lining the vials up in the rack where they would remain until a House-Elf transported them to the Hospital Wing. “No; we are finished with brewing… for now,” Severus replied smoothly, casting protective shields over his potions before nodding in satisfaction.

Harry followed Severus through the manor and out into the daylight. “Where’s Zar?” Harry asked, noticing he hadn’t seen his familiar for days and feeling a twinge of worry.

“I have no idea; I assume he’s roaming the grounds. There are plenty of rats to be caught,” Severus said with a wry smirk.

“Wand out,” he demanded once they stopped. Harry stared at him warily but complied, the words from the previous night echoing in his mind.

“Duel.”

Severus commanded, his black eyes glinting in a way that made Harry want to run and hide. Instead, he squared his shoulders, let out a breath, and quickly fired off his first spell.

“Expelliarmus!” 

Instead of using a shield, Severus sent the spell back at him. Harry went flying, landing with an ungraceful thump on his back.

He groaned but forced himself back into a sitting position, staring indignantly at Severus. “Stop using that spell.

You’re so predictable; being predictable will get you killed, do you understand me?” Severus snapped, fully in teacher mode. “What?” Harry cried, struggling to grasp what Severus was getting at.

“Expelliarmus is your signature spell. If a Death Eater came face to face with you, you’d already be dead.

Stop using that spell; it shouldn’t be the first thing on your mind!” Severus said, his tone less harsh but still firm. “It’s the one you used against the Dark Lord, isn’t it?” Harry replied, reflecting on the truth in Severus's words.

“Well, yes,” he admitted, considering everything he had just been told. It was true; the disarming charm was the first spell he always tried.

But it was the first defensive spell he had learned—what did he expect? “Do you have one?” 

“I did,” Severus said, his eyes darkening as memories of his youth surfaced.

He recalled how Lestrange had enjoyed using it, much to his disgust and horror. Each death she caused with that spell made him feel infinitely responsible.

“All right,” Harry said, standing back up with an air of determination and strength surrounding him. “Confringo!” he yelled, opting for a blasting curse.

Severus merely twitched his wand, and the spell evaporated as he continued to watch Harry with hawk-like intensity. “Incarcerous!

Petrificus Totalus!” Harry cried, launching both spells in quick succession. Once again, Severus countered them effortlessly.

“Locomotor Mortis!” 

“Levicorpus!” 

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, his frustration boiling over. Severus countered each one, then blasted Harry off his feet once more.

Harry barely had time to process what was happening. "Do not engage in fights where your opponent does not fight back.

They are merely tiring you out, waiting for you to exhaust your magical reserves so you become easy pickings!" Severus lectured, watching as Harry struggled to get back on his feet. Then the real duel began—well, as real as Severus intended to make it.

He wanted to drive his points home without causing permanent harm to Harry. Still, by the end of the night, Harry was bound to be bruised, having fallen on his backside more times than he could count.

Severus offered him no leeway; not one of Harry's spells had managed to hit him yet. "Shit," Harry swore, wincing as a cutting curse grazed his arm.

He found himself back on the ground, sweat pouring down his face, feeling magically drained and utterly exhausted. "Now, did you really think you could take on those Death Eaters?" Severus asked, advancing toward him.

"You've made your point," Harry panted, trying to lift himself off the ground. "I’m not doing this because I want to, Harry.

I’m doing it because I must," Severus replied, helping Harry to his feet. He reached into his robes and pulled out a pain reliever, removing the stopper and placing it in Harry's good hand.

With a swift motion, the cut on Harry's arm vanished as if it had never existed. "I’m impressed; you remained standing through the Electro curse," Severus admitted as they made their way toward the manor.

"It’s nothing compared to the Cruciatus curse," Harry reflected, thinking about how mild the Electro curse really was. It sent pulses of electric current through the body, and to anyone unaccustomed to pain, it could be quite uncomfortable.

Severus remained silent, leaving Harry unsure if he agreed or disagreed. "Go shower; dinner will be ready by the time you get out," Severus commanded in his usual tone.

"All right," Harry replied, hopping up the stairs, aching all over. It hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be.

He had certainly learned something over the past two hours. Now it was nighttime.

They had eaten dinner in silence, both too exhausted and preoccupied to engage in conversation. Currently, they sat in the living room, reading.

The fire crackled, warding off the chill that settled in the Manor at night. Earlier, Severus had dropped three Defense books into Harry's lap, insisting that he read them.

Harry didn't mind; one of the books was about Dark versus Light magic, which he hadn't read yet but was eager to dive into. Meanwhile, Zar lay on the rug, snoring—or was he purring?

It was hard to tell, even for a Parselmouth. "Give me an example of the difference between dark and light magic," Severus suddenly said.

Harry looked up from his book to find Severus watching him with a small smirk. "That's a trick question," Harry replied.

"Is it?" Severus asked, a sly glint in his eyes. "I think so," Harry said, now uncertain.

"Give me an example of a pure light spell," Severus prompted again. "A healing charm," Harry finally answered.

"Well done," Severus smirked, clearly impressed. "Now, give me an example of a known light spell that can be dangerous."

"How can a light spell be dangerous?

It wouldn't be a light spell if it was," Harry protested defensively. "Really?" Severus inquired, his interest piqued as he seemed to welcome a spirited debate.

"Well, it's true. It wouldn't be light if it were dangerous," Harry said, feeling exasperated.

"Very well. Are you trying to tell me you can think of no light spell that could be dangerous?

Set aside all preconceived notions—everything you've learned or been told—and think about it, Harry," Severus directed firmly. Harry frowned but complied; it seemed Severus was in a teaching mood today.

Hadn't he learned enough? His mind felt overwhelmed.

All he had learned seemed useless; he struggled to keep up with Severus, let alone a Death Eater who…

Harry felt a wave of realization wash over him. Severus's harsh words from the night before echoed in his mind.

He truly wasn’t prepared to face Death Eaters—not now, not ever. It was yet another lesson learned.

Shaking off his somber thoughts, he began to ponder light spells that could still cause significant harm. Ironically, his first flying lesson popped into his head, and then it struck him like a ton of bricks.

"The levitating charm," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Indeed," Severus replied, a note of pride lacing his words.

Harry felt himself flush; he knew he would never grow too old to cherish that praise. Hearing someone express pride in him was all he had ever wanted, and coming from Severus, it meant even more.

"Any others?" Severus prompted. "All spells can be dangerous, depending on the situation.

The tripping jinx at the top of the stairs or on a cliff... the same goes for the blasting spell.

If you leave the tickling jinx on someone too long, you could harm them," Harry said, gaining momentum as he realized Severus had a valid point. Was any spell truly light?

"Exactly. You mustn’t allow yourself to get caught up in the light versus dark debate, especially in a war," Severus cautioned.

"Every spell you cast at me was deemed light, and every Death Eater knows how to defend against them."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. "Here's a tougher question: can you give me an example where the killing curse could be considered light?" he asked.

"Nobody deserves to die," Harry said automatically. Even Voldemort.

He didn’t want to be a murderer, but he understood the grim reality of his situation. It was a matter of survival—him or Voldemort.

Not just because of the prophecy, but because that was why Voldemort kept pursuing him. Severus continued, "What about a dying animal?

Isn’t it better to grant it a humane death than to let it suffer for days, maybe even weeks?"

Harry pondered this, realizing how deeply Severus was urging him to think. "How about someone who's trapped in their own mind?"

“Can you imagine someone unable to perform even the simplest tasks without help?

Or watching someone with an incurable disease slowly waste away?” He thought to himself, adding, “Or witnessing someone being tortured to death.” He felt guilty about that; he hated torture and preferred to end a person’s suffering quickly. Fortunately, as a spy for Dumbledore, he didn’t participate in raids or torture.

“All right, all right, you win,” Harry said, sounding somewhat grumpy. “Harry,” Severus replied sternly, “this isn’t about me winning.

I’m trying to teach you how to survive.”

“I know,” Harry said, feeling contrite, but his mind was racing with all the new information. Plus, he was completely exhausted; all he wanted was to sleep.

“Good. I understand if you feel overwhelmed, but I don’t have the luxury of time.

We have too much to accomplish this summer,” Severus explained solemnly. Between Order meetings, Death Eater gatherings, brewing for the Dark Lord, brewing for Poppy, and training Harry, he had little time to search for the Horcruxes.

If his school year was busy, summers were a different level of chaos. He had thought last year was hectic.

“I know,” Harry nodded tiredly. “Good.

Go to bed. We have an early start again tomorrow.” Getting up early was the only way they’d manage to accomplish everything Severus wanted to get done.

“Would you like another pain reliever?” Severus asked, noticing how gingerly Harry was moving. He hadn’t seen him act that way since he first arrived at his manor.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Harry replied. Plus, he thought it would help him remember how foolish he had been.

In truth, he had endured worse, and the bruises weren’t that painful. He whispered goodnight to Zar as he left.

His heart ached; he was going to miss the snake dearly. He still hadn’t found a way to keep Zar with him.

He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t put him in the Chamber. Zar didn’t deserve that.

Harry realized he deserved that. He was starting to understand why Slytherin had been compelled to keep his basilisk hidden away.

Zar was growing too big! He occupied half the room, and soon, he wouldn’t even fit through the doors of Prince Manor.

Harry vowed to search harder for a solution, even if it meant sacrificing sleep. He had to find something… he just had to.

"Very well," Severus said, following Harry up the stairs. After a quick shower, he slid into his own bed.

He was a bit surprised not to have been summoned, especially considering that Pettigrew had complained about him never being at Spinner's End. He planned to tell the Dark Lord he was at Hogwarts.

With no children around and none of his spies present, he felt safe from detection. He would never reveal this place to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord had a habit of using their homes, particularly Malfoy Manor, which was where he was at that moment. Prince Manor had been standing long before Malfoy Manor, which meant its wards were older and stronger.

No, the Dark Lord could remain under the illusion that he preferred living in that dilapidated Muggle house; it didn’t matter to Severus. The Dark Lord had never set foot in Prince Manor, and he wasn’t about to change that now.

As he tried to sleep, his mind was weighed down by many concerns: the Horcrux inside Harry, the other Horcruxes out there, the ongoing war, Dumbledore's refusal to train Harry, the growing influence of the Horcrux on his son, and how to handle Pettigrew. It was no surprise that his sleep was restless.