A New Place to Stay Chapter 42 - Harry Potter

Life at Prince Manor shifts fully into war footing. Severus wakes Harry at five thirty for potions and plans, then Apparates with him to Tom Riddle’s old orphanage only to find it gone and the area crawling with Dementors, proof that Voldemort has them under his command. Back home, a house elf report about Bellatrix and Narcissa at Spinner’s End makes Severus fear Draco is about to be Marked and handed an impossible task. Dumbledore Floos in to announce that Severus will finally get the Defence job and that Horace Slughorn is returning to teach Potions, using Harry’s fame as bait all over again. In the library, Harry pulls a Peverell based family tree, realises he and Voldemort share blood through the Gaunts, and digs through Founder lore for possible Horcruxes like Helga’s cup and Ravenclaw’s diadem while Severus starts hunting for a way to rip the soul fragment out of his son. Side by side over books, soup, and stubborn determination, they plan for Horcrux extraction, worry about Zar the basilisk, and brace themselves as the first Death Eater bridge attack hits the Muggle news.

Transcript

**Chapter 42: Digging For Information**

Harry jolted awake, his heart racing. Groggy and disoriented, he glanced around, trying to grasp what had just happened.

Then he heard it again—a firm knock on his door. He realized it could only be Severus; no one else would knock.

The house-elves simply popped in whenever they wanted, with no regard for privacy. Shivering from the cold, he got out of bed.

The house hadn’t warmed up yet; it must have been very early. He opened the door to find Severus fully dressed and seemingly wide awake.

"Breakfast in twenty minutes," Severus said, his voice as commanding as ever. "What time is it?" Harry asked, noting that there wasn't even a hint of daylight peeking through his bedroom window.

"Five thirty," Severus replied, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips as he looked at his disheveled son, particularly his hair. It was getting longer and less messy, but still unruly.

Potter had insisted on keeping it that way, claiming it was what the girls liked. Lily hadn’t shared that sentiment; she had absolutely loathed Potter and his friends until… no, he wouldn't go there.

He wouldn’t dwell on them or on Lily. It was harder than one might think, though.

This time, it wasn’t Harry’s fault; it was Pettigrew’s. The fact that he was harboring Pettigrew made him feel as though he were betraying Lily all over again.

"Why so early?" Harry murmured, still half asleep as he leaned against the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The cold nipped at him, urging him to get dressed quickly.

Cold hadn’t bothered him before; just a few years ago, it had been all he knew. There had been no warmth in his cupboard or in the bedroom the Dursleys had given him.

They had done something to the radiator to stop the heat from working. Heat wasn’t for freaks like him; they didn’t waste a penny on him.

"I told you we have a lot to do," Severus said. "Get dressed."

“Before you catch a cold,” Severus said, then walked—or rather stalked—off, his robes billowing out around him as they always did.

Harry watched him go, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Even during the times he had hated Severus, he couldn't help but admire the dramatic flair of those robes.

At first, he had thought it was a spell of some kind. It added to Severus's persona as the dungeon bat, the way they swooped around him.

Now, though, it was clear it wasn't magic; Severus had no image to uphold here. Perhaps that was why Harry loved being in this space so much—he didn’t have to play “the Boy Who Lived.” Even with his own godfather, he had to wear a mask, one that was often more about reminding others of his father.

The thought of Sirius made his heart ache. Back then, it had hurt deeply to hear Sirius say certain things to him.

What kind of godfather would say something like that to a boy who had never had the chance to know his parents? He was less like his father than Sirius believed.

In those days, he had thought his father was perfect—a Quidditch player, bright, successful, and talented at Transfiguration; a man who had died for his family. James had his flaws, too, though no one but Severus had bothered to tell him about them.

Even Dumbledore had misled him, suggesting that Severus was bitter over a life debt. He had accepted that then, thinking it was the truth.

How naïve he had been. There were always two sides to every story; he should have recognized that sooner.

Shaking off his dark thoughts, Harry ran to his wardrobe and quickly got dressed, realizing he had probably stood there for ten minutes lost in contemplation. Once ready, he made a dash for the kitchen, curious about what the day would hold.

It seemed Severus wasn’t the only one reminiscing about Lily and James. “What are we doing today?” Harry asked, sliding into his seat and spotting another potion on the table.

It was the same one he had drunk yesterday, and he briefly wondered if it might help him grow taller. Harry realized he should have more faith in Severus's potion-making abilities.

After all, he wasn't the youngest Potions Master in the world for nothing. He uncorked the vial and drank it without hesitation, feeling a warm glow in his stomach as he caught the approving look on Severus's face; he knew he would never get too old for that.

"We are visiting the orphanage," Severus said smoothly, taking another sip of his coffee. He was, quite simply put, exhausted.

The potion he had taken was only a temporary fix, and he knew he would feel even more drained in a few hours. The coffee would only serve to prolong the inevitable.

His dreams had been far from pleasant; the image of green eyes glaring at him was enough to twist his insides with guilt. Only two people had ever managed to breach Severus's defenses, and both of them had those same green eyes.

He had betrayed them both. Despite what Harry said, he still felt responsible, and he doubted that feeling would ever fade.

"How do you know where it is?" Harry asked, clearly impressed. Severus smirked wryly.

"Hogwarts gets rid of nothing. The acceptance letter was among the Slytherin papers." 

It didn't matter that Slughorn had been the Head of House back then; those documents were tucked away in drawers and forgotten.

Nothing in that castle was ever truly thrown out. "Slytherin papers?" Harry asked, confusion evident on his face as he hurriedly ate his scrambled eggs and finished off his orange juice.

Severus was already done and waiting for him. "There’s a lot about Hogwarts you don’t know," Severus replied, his tone calm as he considered whether to share this information.

He decided it couldn’t hurt. "Indeed.

Each House has its own records. Once students are sorted, the Head of House receives their information, including a copy of Poppy's reports if they end up in the hospital wing.

There’s also documentation of their classes, attendance sheets, and O.W.L. and N.E.W.T.

scores."

"Oh, they do something similar in Muggle primary schools, although it goes to the Head," Harry remarked, intrigued. Harry nodded in understanding.

"Perhaps Hogwarts did it that way too, back in the day, but with so many students, they had to divide them up. A Head of House sees their students much more often than the Headmaster does," Severus explained as the house-elves came to clear away their dishes.

"That makes sense," Harry replied, nodding as he stood up. He didn't flinch when Severus raised his wand; a year ago, he would have dove for cover at such a gesture.

Goosebumps ran down his arms as his appearance shifted. Severus then cast the spell on himself, transforming into a figure with long, bleach-blond hair, a bright yellow shirt, and Hawaiian shorts paired with sandals.

Harry would have laughed, but he suspected he looked just as ridiculous. He recalled what Severus had told him while they were learning the charm: "Always go for the opposite of what you truly look like; don’t just change your appearance slightly.

If they so much as suspect it’s you, then your cover is blown." Severus had always delivered that advice in his grave, death-becomes-you voice. "Let’s go," Severus said, taking hold of Harry before they Apparated to their destination.

A frown soon crossed Severus's face as he surveyed the area. Spotting a signpost, his expression darkened.

"Doesn't look like there's an orphanage nearby," Harry noted, glancing around with curiosity. "Evidently, the orphanage no longer exists.

We’ll never know if he created one here or not," Severus replied, a sneer twisting his lips. He was clearly frustrated by this turn of events.

"We need to get out of here," Harry said, shivering; a chill was already settling in his bones. For some reason, he felt an acute awareness of Dementors nearby.

It wasn’t just the cold he sensed. "Why?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow at his son, concerned about what was troubling him.

Harry wasn’t clutching his scar, so it wasn’t the usual pain. "It wasn't Voldemort," Harry said, shivering violently.

He could feel them—Dementors—closer now. Severus became alarmed, rightfully so, and immediately grabbed Harry before disappearing on the spot.

He didn't care if the Muggles saw them; his son came first. He didn't want to encounter the Dementors again, not after last time.

He had nearly lost Harry; he himself had almost been Kissed. As they landed back at Prince Manor, Severus realized that Voldemort must already have the Dementors on his side.

That was not good; the war was advancing much more quickly than anticipated. "So what now?" Harry asked, his tone heavy with disappointment.

He had hoped they were on the right path to gathering the remaining Horcruxes. It was some consolation that the locket he found in Grimmauld Place had been destroyed, but there was still one in Malfoy Manor and one in Grimmauld Place.

Both were homes of Death Eaters; perhaps those were the places they should be searching. "Master Severus?" a house-elf Harry didn’t recognize popped in.

"Why don't you go to the library, Harry? Perhaps we need more information on Tom Riddle to figure out where these Horcruxes are," Severus suggested smoothly.

Harry looked between Severus and the house-elf, feeling a pang of hurt at being left out. It was probably the first time Severus had done so since they had started getting along so well.

"This has nothing to do with the war, Horcruxes, or even you, Harry, so wipe that look from your face and go up the stairs," Severus said, shaking his head in amusement. Harry was like an open book, regardless of whether he had learned Occlumency or not.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied sheepishly, feeling foolish that Severus could still read him so easily. Once he was sure Harry was heading in the right direction, Severus turned to Jasmine and said, "Speak." 

"Two people..."

“Someone came to the door,” Jasmine reported.

She was diligently following the orders Severus had given her. Along with Violet, she had been invisibly staking out her Master’s home in Spinner’s End.

Now, with her night shift just ended, she was here to inform him of what had transpired. She had been instructed to approach him only if anyone approached that wasn’t Pettigrew.

“Who?” Severus demanded, a frown creasing his brow, unsettled by the unexpected visit. “Bellatrix and Narcissa,” the elf replied.

She had overheard their conversation, which was the only reason she knew their names. Jasmine was familiar with Bellatrix; one of the elves her Master had rescued had once belonged to her.

It had taken years for the head elf to heal her, and all of them had been renamed in the process. Master Severus was the best Master in the world, and even better, they were free.

“Do you know why?” Severus asked, alarm creeping into his voice. “I’m not sure, Master Severus, but Mister Draco was mentioned a few times,” Jasmine replied.

Severus pondered this. She clearly hadn’t spoken to her husband; he was the only one who knew about Prince Manor.

Not that he could share that information; Severus had made sure of it. Now, her husband was in Azkaban, having let himself be caught—by his own son, no less, Severus thought with a feral smirk.

While he disapproved of Harry’s actions, he couldn’t deny a sense of pride that Harry had managed to pull it off without casting a single curse. But now, it seemed Jasmine was withholding something, likely wanting to help her son.

Severus’s heart sank. Draco was going to return to Hogwarts with the Dark Mark.

Narcissa had obviously come to him for help; did she suspect he wasn’t a Death Eater? Or was it merely because Draco was his godson?

Damn Lucius to hell; his capture had ignited the Dark Lord’s fury. His godson was doomed because of his father’s actions.

He didn’t typically Mark new Death Eaters so early; perhaps there was still hope to save his godson. The Dark Lord would assign Draco an impossible task, one destined for failure.

Severus knew the Dark Lord all too well, and this did not bode well. He felt trapped; it was worse than he had anticipated.

"You may go," Severus said, realizing the house-elf was still standing there. Jasmine bowed slightly before leaving to head to bed, where Violet was surely waiting for her.

Severus sank into a chair, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Dark times were already closing in on them.

Who had Draco been tasked to kill? He prayed it wasn’t Harry.

He would hate to put Draco through what he had done to Umbridge, but no one harmed his son without facing consequences. Then again, it was possible the Dark Lord wanted that task for himself—to prove he could kill Harry, to show he was superior.

Well, not if Severus had anything to say about it. Harry would survive; he would have a family and raise them the way his own parents should have raised him.

A ping from the Floo Network interrupted his thoughts, alerting him that someone was trying to connect. Sighing in irritation, he made his way to the sitting room.

"Albus? What can I do for you?" Severus asked, staring at Dumbledore with an impassive expression.

If it weren’t for the war, he would have let the old fool know exactly what he thought of him. Imagine sending a child to be abused for the greater good.

The Dark Lord wasn’t the only one Severus knew all too well. It was a good thing he was Dumbledore’s spy; otherwise, Dumbledore wouldn’t be alive right now.

"Ah, Severus; how are things?" Dumbledore inquired, attempting to probe for information. Too bad for the old fool he couldn’t Floo directly into Severus's house.

He had wards set against it; anyone trying would end up with a splitting headache when the Floo Network rejected them. Only those with permission could Floo or Apparate in, and Dumbledore didn’t have that right now.

"Fine," Severus replied, curling his lip in disgust. Unfortunately, the old fool would likely think the disdain was aimed at his son.

"Tell me, have you—"

“Have you started your potion lessons for this year?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling even in the flickering firelight. The gleam was disconcerting; Dumbledore was up to his usual manipulative tricks again.

“No, I’ve been brewing potions for the Hospital Wing since school ended,” Severus replied, reminding himself that it had only been two days. He wondered what Dumbledore could possibly want.

“Then hold off on that. With any luck, I may have a new Potions teacher this year,” Dumbledore said, positively beaming at Severus through the flames.

Disbelief washed over Severus. After all those years of asking for the position, it was finally happening.

He didn’t need Dumbledore to tell him; he wasn’t stupid. Dumbledore wouldn’t let his spy be anywhere else but by his side.

He was finally getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position after years of applying for it. “Who?” he demanded, a possessive edge creeping into his voice.

The thought of someone else getting their hands on his labs was unsettling. “You’ll know him; he taught you, after all,” Dumbledore said smugly.

Severus realized that with Harry by his side, Dumbledore could persuade Horace to return. “Horace Slughorn?” he asked, feeling his stomach churn at the idea of his son learning from that incompetent fool.

Harry wouldn’t learn anything from him; everything he knew, he had taught himself. That thought reminded him of the book.

It would help Harry. He was very good at potions, and that was without Severus’s guidance.

The potions in the sixth and seventh years were far more complicated and required straying from the actual instructions. He had learned that on his own, scribbling the correct actions in the margins.

Slughorn was more interested in befriending students who could be beneficial to him. Severus wanted to close his eyes in fury but forced his expression to remain impassive as rage boiled within him.

He had no doubt about who Dumbledore intended to dangle in front of him. Dumbledore’s plan to persuade Slughorn to teach again was clear.

He was using his son once more, and Severus knew this would surely upset Harry. Harry despised being used because of his fame, and he hated that fame even more.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, a proud smile on his face. “Which means you should start planning the Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.

I also need to know in two weeks which books you require for each year so we can add them to the list for the upcoming term.”

“Very well,” Severus replied, struggling to suppress a grimace. “Excellent!

I shall see you soon, my boy,” Dumbledore beamed, disconnecting himself from the Floo network. As soon as Dumbledore left, a grimace twisted across Severus's face.

Shaking his head, he stalked out of the study and made his way to the library to see what Harry was up to. He found Harry surrounded by books and large rolls of parchment.

Severus didn’t recall seeing any parchment-bound books in his own library. “What are you up to?” Severus asked, prowling closer, his hooked nose hovering over everything Harry had laid out.

He was surprised to see a family tree in front of his son. “I’m related to him,” Harry said, his voice laced with disgust.

Severus didn't need to ask who “him” was. There was only one name Harry avoided using: Voldemort’s.

For good reason, too; sooner or later, Voldemort would place a geas on his name again. Severus didn’t want his son caught in that prideful trap, risking his life.

“How so?” he asked, studying the tree and wondering how Harry had discovered this connection. He hadn’t even known Harry knew the spell to call up his family tree.

“We’re both related to the Peverells. See here?” Harry pointed to where both names branched out.

“Ignotus Peverell is the brother my line comes from, ending up with Potter, of course. Cadmus Peverell’s line leads down to the Gaunts, then to Riddle,” a name familiar to both of them.

the Dark Lord, Voldemort."

"Does that mean my Parseltongue ability is my own? I mean, if the Horcrux is removed, I might still be able to talk?" Harry’s voice trembled with fear.

He dreaded the idea of losing his connection with his snake. Severus shook his head in exasperation.

Harry had a one-track mind and rarely thought things through before asking. "Regardless of where you got the talent from, there is a potion that will allow you to," he replied, letting his frustration show.

"I know, but it would be nice, you know, for it really to be mine," Harry said. He didn’t have many talents he could claim as his own—at least, not ones he valued.

Being good at Defense wasn’t particularly useful, especially with a maniac after him. He didn’t want to be an Auror, so that wasn’t an option.

Potions? He wasn’t skilled enough to pursue brewing after Hogwarts.

Quidditch would only make him more famous, and he had no intention of going down that path. He just wanted to blend into the background, to be known as just Harry, not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Severus had been the only one to treat him properly since he entered the Wizarding world. It was something he hadn’t fully appreciated until a year ago.

"We will find out someday," Severus said. This summer, he planned to find something to help his son.

He had been searching, but not for a significant amount of time—not with all the Order meetings, Death Eater meetings, teaching, and staff meetings consuming his schedule. He knew he would have the most free time during the summer to dedicate to this.

"Yeah," Harry said, biting his lip. He hated the thought of Voldemort being a part of him.

It made sense that he knew, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier. "According to these books, Ravenclaw had a diadem.

Could he use that?"

"It's been missing since... “During the Founders' time, I doubt the Dark Lord could have found it,” Severus said, shaking his head.

“Okay, how about Helga's cup?” Harry replied, flipping to a page marked with a yellow Post-It Note. “Who are the descendants?” Severus asked, sitting up with newfound interest in Harry's research.

Harry unfurled another long piece of parchment. “The line died out; a Hepzibah Smith was the last owner,” he sighed, feeling the weight of another dead end.

“When did she die?” Severus inquired, moving closer to examine the parchment himself. After reading the date, he summoned his notebook.

“It’s possible that the Dark Lord had her killed to take it. Unfortunately, we would be hard-pressed to find proof of that,” he scowled.

“Well, I know for a fact that the Gryffindor sword isn't a Horcrux,” Harry said, recalling how it had been in the Sorting Hat when he received it. Plus, it had been used to stab a Basilisk; the venom seemed to destroy the Horcruxes.

If it had ever been one, it certainly wasn't anymore, and it hadn’t carried the taint of Dark magic like the locket. “Back to square one,” Severus sighed, leaning back in irritation at the lack of information.

“I wouldn’t rule out the cup or the diadem,” Harry insisted quietly. “He was obviously obsessed with the Founders.

He used a diary—his own diary—so he clearly relies on things that are personal to him too, like his snake. We know that’s one; I wouldn’t have been able to see through its eyes otherwise.” He began twisting the small basilisk fang under his clothes, feeling that it meant more to him than all the gold in Gringotts.

“Perhaps,” Severus said as he started browsing his library for books on magic, foreign entities, souls, and anything that might help him devise a way to extract the piece of the Dark Lord’s soul from Harry's body. “Are there any heirlooms in the Gaunt family?” Harry wondered aloud.

“I have no idea,” Severus admitted. “But it’s worth looking into.”

"Investigating further," Severus said, his arms now laden with books.

He placed them on a separate table, away from the Horcrux information. "Did I hear Dumbledore's voice?" Harry asked, trying—and failing—to hide his curiosity and resentment for the old man.

"Indeed," Severus replied, his gaze fixed on Harry as he searched for a hint of what truly concerned him. "Don’t worry; it was nothing to do with you.

He was simply informing me of my new teaching position."

There was a note of smugness in Severus' voice that had been absent when Dumbledore had contacted him through the Floo network. "He gave you the Defence job, didn't he?" Harry inquired, aware of the rumors surrounding Severus' desire for the position, and Dumbledore’s repeated refusals.

"Who's going to teach Potions?" His heart sank; he hoped that both Potions and Defence wouldn’t turn into a complete nightmare. "Horace Slughorn," Severus said, his tone dripping with disdain.

"My old Potions teacher."

"What’s he like?" Harry asked cautiously. "Let’s put it this way: he shouldn’t be teaching," Severus replied dryly.

"He is nothing like me, but I have a feeling you won’t like him."

The knowing look on Severus' face made Harry's heart sink further. Oh no, what was he going to have to endure?

He didn’t need to be a genius to grasp Severus' implication. "Another Lockhart?" Harry gulped, his green eyes wide with concern.

"Actually, I think you’d prefer Lockhart," Severus remarked wryly. Harry groaned as his forehead hit the books on the table.

Lockhart had been unbearable, but at least Harry had been only twelve then. Now, he was more aware of the world, how manipulative people could be, and how everyone seemed to like him simply because he had survived as a baby.

Severus smirked as he continued with his research, resolute in his mission to extract that Horcrux from his son. Even if it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would see it through.

Nobody was better at Potions than Severus. If he, an expert brewer, couldn’t find a solution, then there was little hope for anyone else.

Harry continued to read the books he had retrieved from the Chamber, but he had shifted his focus. Instead of searching for Horcruxes, he was now investigating his own project—finding a way to keep Zar out of the Chamber and in his life.

He was surprised that Severus hadn't already ordered his familiar to go down to the Chamber. Zar was so large; Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Severus would have to tell him to do it.

The thought broke his heart. What would it be like to hear those words?

He didn't want to find out, thank you very much. “Have you read the book on the different kinds of magic?” Severus asked abruptly.

“Yes. I’m halfway through; it’s very interesting,” Harry replied.

The book had changed the way he viewed magic entirely. “No doubt,” Severus said smoothly, returning to his reading.

“Master Severus, lunch is ready,” Dobby announced, appearing before them. “We will eat it in here,” Severus said, breaking his own rules, but there was no time to stop for a meal.

“Yes, sir,” Dobby responded, disappearing only to reappear five minutes later with two individual trays floating beside him. He placed them on the tables where the wizards were seated before vanishing again.

“Do not get food on those books,” Severus warned in his teacher voice, one that hinted at a thousand detentions. Harry grinned, no longer afraid of Severus’s wrath.

Still, he pushed the books aside, not wanting to take any chances. The meal consisted of vegetable soup, fresh bread, fruit, ice cream, and yogurt in various bowls for him to choose from.

He would never get over how wonderful it was to be fed three times a day. Even now, after all this time, he silently wondered if he would ever stop feeling grateful and happy to have food.

“Eat before it gets cold; think later,” Severus said without looking up. Harry shook his head, feeling his thoughts slip away.

He was certain that despite his defenses, Severus could read him like an open book. He always seemed to know when Harry was feeling down, depressed, or lost in thought.

Quickly, he finished his meal without burning himself, then pushed the tray away. He had to find a way; he just had to.

Both of them immersed themselves in their books, determined to unravel their quests. If someone had seen them sitting together, resolute and purposeful, they might have mistaken them for a biological father and son.

But after everything they had endured over the years, surviving against all odds, they shared a bond deeper than that of any traditional father and son. They were on their respective paths, yet the question remained: would they survive the dangers that lay ahead?

With so many threats lurking, it was clear the road would be fraught with crossroads and challenges unlike anything they had faced before. However, if they stayed strong together, they might just make it through.

It was time for Harry to leave his mark on the world. Neither of them had seen the news yet—a bridge in London had been destroyed by Death Eaters and Dementors, resulting in the deaths of two witches, one of whom was an Order member, Vance.

No doubt, an Order meeting would be called soon. Poor Severus just couldn’t catch a break.