A New Place to Stay Chapter 46 - Harry Potter

Severus Snape finally tests his first real Horcrux removal potion on Harry, and for a moment it feels like a Portkey tugging at his scar and stomach as the soul fragment shifts but stubbornly refuses to let go. Shaken yet hopeful, Harry trusts Severus more than anyone alive and knows they are at least on the right path. Life at Prince Manor settles into a strange calm filled with runs around the pitch, Dobby fussing, and quiet meals while the war outside gets darker and the world starts looking to Harry as a symbol of hope whether he wants it or not. Letters from Fred and George reveal that Weasleys Wizard Wheezes is booming and that they are paying Harry a real cut of the profits, while yet another Sirius letter compares him to James and pushes him toward Ron, making Harry more certain than ever that he has to be his own person. By September, ten outstanding OWLs, a new broom from Severus, and a forced birthday at Grimmauld Place have come and gone, and Harry boards the Hogwarts Express with Neville and Luna as his true inner circle. A run in with Romilda Vane, fan girls at the windows, and a Slughorn invitation to a private lunch he flatly refuses set the tone for sixth year: Harry is done being paraded as a prize and is going back to Hogwarts on his own terms, with Severus as his anchor instead of Dumbledore.

Transcript

**Chapter 46: A Potion for the Horcrux and Going Back to Hogwarts**

"He took me to see Slughorn," Harry said bitterly, his body thrumming with tension that begged to break free. He felt an overwhelming urge to run; otherwise, he knew he would explode.

He was grateful that Severus had shown him a way to cope. If he hadn't, another incident like Marge's would have happened long before now.

He felt angry all the time—was it normal? Or was it just him?

He didn't know, and he didn't like it regardless. "He took the bait, and Dumbledore wants me to take private lessons with him."

"Did he say why?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

What was Dumbledore up to now? Why the lessons?

He had been adamant about not training Harry, so what was going on? Sooner or later, he would find out, especially with Hogwarts starting back up soon.

He still didn't like the idea of his son spending so much time with Dumbledore, especially considering what he suspected Dumbledore believed must happen. He had a feeling Dumbledore knew that Harry was a Horcrux.

As he had told Harry, he doubted Dumbledore would actually hurt him. Dumbledore would never dirty his own hands; he hadn't even truly defeated Grindelwald.

He had only imprisoned him—in his own prison, no less—which added insult to injury. "No, he wouldn't say," Harry replied, feeling a bit calmer now that he could talk to someone.

It was amazing how much of a difference it made to have someone there. Speaking helped him feel better, not just about this situation, but about everything else as well.

He no longer experienced such violent nightmares about Cedric and the final task. They were still there, but they didn't wake him up in a cold sweat like they used to.

Severus had been right—talking through it helped. He no longer doubted Severus.

Was it odd to wish he had grown up with Severus as a father? Then again, compared to the Dursleys, anyone would have been better...

even Fudge. "Well, there is nothing that..."

“There's nothing more that can be done about it for now.

Why don’t you go read the rest of your book? I have something I need to do,” Severus said.

He felt a sense of relief now that Harry was back and Dumbledore hadn’t tried anything. He had spent the entire time Harry was gone in his lab, and he believed he might be close to figuring out how to remove the Horcrux.

The only danger lay in the fact that he had no way to test it. After all, there wasn’t anyone else walking around with a Horcrux embedded in them.

He needed to be absolutely sure it would work; he couldn’t risk harming Harry for nothing. “Can I run first?” Harry asked, desperate to let off some steam.

“Of course. If you need me, just call Dobby.” Severus nodded at his son, silently conveying that he would always be there for him.

He wasn’t an overly emotional man and preferred to express his feelings through actions rather than words. It was remarkable that Severus could show kindness, especially considering the childhood he had endured.

All he had known was anger, abuse, fighting, and drinking. Life hadn’t been easy, and the fact that he had overcome it meant he was strong—strong enough to recognize that Harry was tough enough to fight his own past.

“I will,” Harry assured him before turning around and leaving through the door he had just entered. He stayed within the wards that kept him safe and began running around the pitch.

Harry often wondered why there was a pitch at all; nobody in the Prince family had liked Quidditch or played it professionally. They had always excelled in potions—in fact, there were a few very handy potions from the Prince family line.

It was easier to think about inconsequential things rather than the weight on his mind. The world was becoming a much darker place; he could sense it even from behind the Manor walls.

Worse still, the Muggles had no idea what was happening; they were completely oblivious to it. The Ministry had been fabricating events for each…

People watching the news had no idea about the real situation.

The world Severus had warned him about was starting to surface, and fear was spreading like wildfire. To make matters worse, everyone was looking to him for hope.

The papers had spilled the beans—whether the claims were true or not, people would believe them. They needed something to hold onto… but why couldn’t it be Dumbledore?

Harry thought bitterly as he sprinted past the starting line, now on his second lap around the pitch. Half an hour later, Harry returned to the manor, where Dobby greeted him with a late dinner.

He hadn’t eaten anything at Slughorn's, and for good reason. Not that he’d been offered, he reflected, bitterness creeping into his thoughts as he savored the onion soup.

With the fresh bread, it tasted absolutely divine. As he ate, Harry couldn’t help but wonder where Severus was; he had been unusually quiet lately.

Normally, Severus kept him busy with training—whether it was potions, runes, or defense. Harry had even managed to successfully cast the Fiendfyre spell, so if he ever encountered Inferi, he would know what to do.

Rumors aside, he didn’t want to take any chances. He was done relying on “sheer dumb luck,” as McGonagall had called it back in his first year.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry said as the house-elf collected his empty bowl and spoon. “Does Master Harry require anything else?” Dobby asked, his green eyes shining with adoration as he focused on “his” Harry.

He would lay down his life for him; after all, Harry had saved him from the terrible Malfoys. Not only that, but Master Harry had treated him like an equal since they met, allowing him to sit beside him and stopping Dobby from punishing himself.

Dobby had been taking lessons on speaking from Severus; the word “require” was a clear indication of that. He would never have said such a word, especially not when Harry first met him.

In fact, the elf had struggled to speak properly; Harry guessed that abuse and disdain could do that to anyone. Plus…

Dobby probably hadn’t been allowed to speak; the Malfoys truly were as wicked as they came.

Beating a defenseless elf—well, that was laughable, considering Dobby could defend himself quite violently. Harry suppressed a smirk as he recalled Dobby’s proud declaration: “You shall not harm Harry Potter!” Dobby had looked so satisfied in that moment.

There truly was no other house-elf quite like him. “No, thank you, Dobby,” Harry said, standing up.

Now that he was in a better mood, he felt it was the perfect time to do some reading. One thing was for certain: he wasn’t going to struggle in his classes this year.

He was well-read and ahead of schedule with his books. Normally, he didn’t have that luxury; in fact, he had already finished his homework.

“Yes, sir,” Dobby replied before disappearing, probably off to clean some more. Just as Harry settled into his room and picked up his book, there was a knock at the door.

He knew it wasn’t the elves since they didn’t knock; it had to be Severus. Curiously, he opened the door, and sure enough, it was Severus, holding a black potion and exuding a very satisfied air.

“Do you have a moment?” Severus asked, stepping into the room when Harry gestured for him to come in. As always, Severus noted how tidy Harry’s room was.

The books were lined up neatly, the one he was reading resting on the table beside his bed, and his homework stacked neatly in his open trunk. Harry loved this room, and he understood why.

That blasted cupboard… well, the Dursleys likely regretted that decision. They were still as rotten as ever, and unfortunately, he still fed them; he might be vindictive, but he wasn’t that cruel.

Or so he told himself. “Yes, I was just about to read,” Harry said, wondering what Severus wanted.

Did it have something to do with the potion in his hand? “This potion should remove the Horcrux; I have nobody…”

"I’m not completely certain it will work, Harry," Severus explained honestly.

"What I do know is that if it doesn't, it won't harm you in any way."

"I'll try it," Harry replied, placing his trust in Severus more than anyone else in the world. If Severus said it wouldn’t hurt him, he believed it.

After all, Severus wasn’t the youngest potions master for nothing. However, he understood that if it didn’t work, he would be disappointed—just as Severus would be.

"Lie down; it might make you dizzy," Severus instructed curtly, his tone shifting back to business. He felt a twinge of apprehension about the potion, but he had gone over the ingredients multiple times.

There shouldn’t be anything that could harm Harry—aside from the potential removal of the Horcrux, of course. But that was only if it worked; if it didn’t, he would need to start his search all over again.

Severus watched as Harry lay down, trusting him with his life. It made his heart swell, though he would never show it.

Severus was not a man who displayed anything other than anger; he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, and he would help Harry do the same. "Here," he said, uncorking the vial and handing it to Harry, his heart pounding in his chest.

This was the moment of truth. He prayed it would work, that he had finally discovered a way to protect Harry, and that the horrific hold Voldemort had on his son would be broken.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tossed back the potion, swallowing it without tasting it first. It was a good thing he did; it was perhaps the foulest potion he had ever consumed since entering the wizarding world.

The room spun around him, and he let out a startled, "Whoa!" He closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle after the recent meal he had eaten. Then, he felt it—a tugging at his forehead, and another sensation pulling at his stomach.

It felt like a—

Harry could only describe the sensation as a Portkey. The tugging continued; it wasn't painful, but he felt it deep within.

After a few minutes, the tugging stopped, as if it had run out of power. When Harry finally opened his eyes, he saw Severus crouched nearby, watching him with a look of concern.

Harry shook off the lingering effects. "What happened?" Severus asked, glancing at Harry as he recovered.

His potions book lay open on Harry's bed, the quill poised above it, ready to jot down notes. "It felt like a Portkey," Harry explained.

"It was tugging at my head and stomach, pulling and pulling until it just... stopped." He paused.

"The dizziness didn’t last long, but it was enough to make me feel a bit queasy." He knew he had to be honest; otherwise, it wouldn’t help at all. Normally, he wouldn’t say anything, but compared to what he was used to feeling, this was child's play.

"Look at me," Severus commanded. Harry braced himself; he knew what was coming.

They would find out if the potion had succeeded or not. He nodded, meeting his father's gaze as Severus began to cast the spell.

Harry had to fight the instinct to close his mind. Years of practice made it difficult to let his shields down, requiring immense concentration and magic.

Then, abruptly, the searching stopped. Severus had found what he was looking for.

Carefully, he withdrew, making sure not to harm Harry in the process. "It didn’t work," Severus said, disappointment evident in his voice.

But Harry sensed a flicker of hope. It had moved.

Severus hadn't taken long to find it, which meant they were on the right track. He just needed to make the potion stronger.

How he would accomplish that was a mystery, but he was determined. His mind raced through the ingredients he had used, considering how to enhance them to make the potion more resilient—perhaps he needed to transfer the Horcrux instead of trying to eliminate it.

"It worked a bit," Harry said, hopeful. "I could feel it… like elastic being stretched, but not enough to pull apart," Harry said, contradicting himself.

"Yes, from your own magical core," Severus replied. He knew that if they succeeded, it could potentially damage Harry's core.

What was more dangerous? The Horcrux residing within Harry or the risk of losing some of his magic?

Not all of it, of course, but some could be lost in the process—including the possibility of losing his ability to speak with snakes. There was no point in dwelling on that now; the potion hadn't worked, so he needed to focus on the task at hand.

He would have to discuss the implications with Harry, ensuring he understood the possibilities. "Do you need anything?" Severus asked as he closed his book, having finished recording everything Harry had described.

"No, I'm fine," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Very well.

Goodnight." With that, Severus left the room, closing the door behind him. His thoughts were solely on the potion.

Instead of returning to the dungeons, he decided to head down for something to eat. "Dobby, bring me something to eat," Severus requested as he settled into the dining room.

He preferred to have all his meals here, unless Harry was injured; that had been the only exception. A bowl of steaming onion soup, along with three pieces of freshly baked bread, was placed in front of him.

"Has Harry had dinner?" Severus asked as he began to eat. "Yes, sir," Dobby replied immediately and left once he realized Severus no longer needed him.

As Severus ate, he couldn’t help but wonder what this year had in store. His green eyes gleamed with mischief as he recalled everything that had happened last year.

He had been allowed to participate in the revenge against those who had harmed Harry Potter. Umbridge would never hurt his wizard again—or anyone else, for that matter; she had succumbed to her illnesses, ailments that St.

Mungo's had been unable to cure. Dumbledore had been a surprise.

He hadn't really wanted to take action against such a powerful wizard. Harry had always been a bit wary of wizards, but after Master Severus explained everything, he was eager to help.

Bad Dumbledore shouldn’t be hurting his wizard in any way. Now, Harry finally had someone who cared for him, and Dobby really liked Severus.

“Harry, sir,” Dobby said as he popped in, surprising Harry, who was deeply engrossed in his book. “What’s wrong, Dobby?” Harry asked, finishing his sentence before looking up.

The more difficult the books became, the more interesting they were. He could see why Hermione enjoyed reading so much; there was a wealth of knowledge out there waiting to be discovered.

He needed this if he had any hope of surviving the war. “Your mail,” Dobby said, handing it over.

He had already checked it for curses, hexes, jinxes, and anything else that could be hidden in the letters. There was nothing wrong, so Dobby, loyal as ever, was bringing it to his wizard.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry said, taking the envelopes eagerly. He could tell from the handwriting who each letter was from: Sirius, Neville, Luna, and one more that he didn’t recognize.

Knowing it was safe was the only reason he dared to open that letter. Severus had warned him about the Dark Lord’s tactics—portkeyed letters, cursed messages, and charms that could break down all wards.

As Harry opened the letter and glanced at the bottom, he discovered it was from the Weasley twins. He hadn’t been in touch with any of them since his falling out with Ron.

Curiosity piqued, he wondered what they could want, especially since they had told everyone they weren’t returning to Hogwarts this year. “Hey Harry, Ron’s really pissed off by the way about us coming to the Ministry with you instead of him.

Anyway, we just wanted to let you know our shop has taken off! We’ve finally bought premises and a flat above the shop, where we’re staying now.

Here’s a Gringotts check—it's one month's percentage of the shop’s profit. We need your vault number to deposit the money.”

"Next month, we’ll send you a box of our products—free, of course—since you’re our financial backer.

We started off making Shield Hats as a joke. You know, dare your friend to hex you and watch the curse bounce back.

Then the Ministry bought all five hundred we had in stock! We've now expanded to Shield cloaks and gloves.

Sure, they won’t be much good against Unforgivable curses, but they’ll help. Then there are Decoy Detonators, which make a noise while you move away, keeping anyone off your back.

We’ve even created instant darkness powder—handy if you need a quick getaway. We’ll be sending you one of each; hopefully, you’ll find them useful.

Gred and Forge. Harry was surprised they’d already bought premises; they must be doing really well to accomplish that so soon.

He was also taken aback that they bothered to give him a percentage. He hated Ron...

and Percy, especially after that letter he sent. What an idiot, abandoning the family for a career with Fudge.

Hopefully, he’d get his head out of his arse—especially, Merlin forbid, before one of them died. Harry might not be close with them anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

It would devastate him if anything happened; after all, he had saved Ginny’s and Arthur’s lives. Well, actually, Severus had saved Arthur’s life.

If not for his quick actions, Arthur would have died. “Harry, I’m surprised your homework is already done.

Your father and I always left it to the last minute. I guess Snape’s being a hard arse about it?

He was always one to have his homework in on time at school. A real teacher’s pet; Slughorn always went easy on him.

He wouldn’t understand fun if it bit him on his abnormally large nose. Have you been having any visions lately?

I hope not! You do know you can tell me if you do, right?

You can talk to me about anything. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been.

When will you tell me about what happened with your friends? Why did I have to..."

"Did you find out from Professor Dumbledore?

Bill and Fleur are engaged and planning to marry next year. Ron was a good friend, Harry.

He’s devastated by whatever has come between you. Even Hermione wasn’t her usual self during their visit.

Your father always got angry at me, but we made up in the end. Hopefully, you’ll find it in you to reconcile with Ron too.

Padfoot. P.S.

What would you like for your birthday?"

Harry shook his head. No matter how hard he tried, Sirius always found something to compare him to his father.

Every letter seemed to contain a reminder of James. Why couldn’t Sirius see him as his own person?

Maybe once he was out of Hogwarts and not an Auror, it might finally dawn on his godfather that he wasn’t James Potter. He was done trying to be what everyone expected him to be.

This year, he was determined to let his true personality shine through. He couldn’t keep playing Gryffindor’s golden boy much longer.

They wanted him to be a leader? Well, that’s what they would get—a sarcastic leader, but a leader nonetheless.

---

September - Kings Cross Station - Hogwarts Express

Harry made his way onto the train, unnoticed by everyone; they were too worried and anxious to care about a student wandering off by himself. The past few weeks had been surprising, to say the least.

When he received his O.W.L. results, Severus had been genuinely proud of him.

It wasn’t just words; Harry had seen it in Severus’ eyes. For a brief moment, they had been warm and filled with pride.

That fleeting look meant more to Harry than anything else in the world. The real surprise had come later that day in the form of a brand-new broomstick.

He’d been given the day off, and Harry hadn’t argued—he’d gone straight to the pitch. All the tension that had been building throughout the year bled away as he soared through the air once again.

It had been worth every bit of effort he’d put into training. He had made Severus proud.

Harry felt a surge of pride; for the first time, someone was genuinely proud of him. He had never experienced such happiness or a sense of accomplishment regarding his own abilities before.

He had passed ten O.W.L.s, and the only reason his History of Magic grade was Exceeded Expectations was due to the vision he had received. The O.W.L.

results were as follows:

**Pass Grades:**  
Outstanding (O)  
Exceeded Expectations (E)  
Acceptable (A)  

**Fail Grades:**  
Poor (P)  
Dreadful (D)  
Troll (T)  

**HARRY JAMES POTTER**  
Astronomy: O  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: O  
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: O  
Herbology: O  
History of Magic: E  
Potions: O  
Transfiguration: O  
Healing Course: O  

Dumbledore had interfered with his life once again, whisking him off to Grimmauld Place for his birthday. As expected, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and most of the Order were there.

It felt more like a party, but Harry’s heart wasn’t in it. Not even the pile of presents could lift his mood; he just longed for a quiet day brewing potions with someone who truly cared about him.

At the end of the day, they all seemed to want their weapon, their hero. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way.

For years, he had wished for a celebration; yet when it finally arrived, it felt like the wrong time. There was a war raging outside, people were dying, and here they were, pretending to be a happy family.

Listening to the others talk, he realized they were aware of the situation. It was all just a façade for the kids.

He overheard that Karkaroff had been found dead in the Shrieking Shack of all places, and that Fortescue and Ollivander had vanished. Thankfully, he was sent home after “dinner,” which had been lovely.

Molly Weasley truly knew how to cook. Harry had taken a piece of cake home for Severus, showing him that he hadn’t forgotten.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t unnoticed for long. As he boarded the train, he saw people pressing their faces against the compartment windows just to catch a glimpse of him.

He shuddered; he hated the attention. Harry felt the weight of attention on him, wishing people would just leave him alone.

Damn the Daily Prophet. “Hi, Harry!” a familiar voice called out.

He turned around, a smile spreading across his face as he saw Neville. “Nev!

Want to grab a compartment before they’re all gone?” Harry asked eagerly. “Hi, Harry,” Luna chimed in, appearing behind Neville; they had become inseparable lately.

“Hi, Luna! How are you?” Harry replied warmly.

They soon spotted an empty compartment and squeezed inside. Harry's backpack contained a few galleons, his uniform, his shrunken trunk, and of course, his invisibility cloak.

“They're staring at us because we’re with you,” Neville complained, looking quite uncomfortable. “That’s what you think.

They’re staring at you because you were at the Ministry,” Harry said, smirking. “Oh, that,” Neville said sheepishly.

“I thought Gran would be angry, but she was really pleased. She even promised me a new wand!

I had to tell her about it. She was over the moon!

I’m finally living up to my dad at long last.” 

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to live up to your dad, Neville,” Harry gently advised, shaking his head. “I’ve tried to tell him that too,” Luna added with a wry smile.

The three of them chatted happily about their summers, with Harry deliberately leaving out certain details. They exchanged thanks for their presents and expressed how excited they were to be returning to Hogwarts.

“I have something I need to tell you about,” Harry said, “but only when we get to the Room of Requirement.” 

“Is this about what the Prophet said?” Luna asked, her large, colorful spectacles fixated on him. Neville, who had been trying to get Trevor to cooperate, turned his attention to Harry, concern etched on his face.

“They weren’t right, were they?” he asked, horror creeping into his voice, though he seemed resigned to the answer. Harry nodded solemnly.

“How do you feel about that?” Luna asked sympathetically. As the sweet cart rolled by, Harry and his friends were caught off guard when someone suddenly burst into their compartment.

"Hi, Harry! I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said, brushing her black hair back.

"Why don’t you join us in our compartment so you don’t have to sit here with them?"

Harry snorted at her boldness. "They just happen to be my friends.

So why don’t you toddle off to your own compartment before I hex you… and maybe you’ll find out what I did to Voldemort."

Romilda squeaked, her face pale with fear, and rushed past her two friends, dashing out of the compartment and down the corridor, her terrified squeals echoing behind her. Neville and Luna stared at Harry, wide-eyed.

They hadn’t expected him to react that way, but it didn't take long for them to recover. Soon, they all burst into laughter, just as Ron walked by.

He shot them a jealous and sad look—clearly upset about the sweets he usually shared with Harry—before continuing on his way. "You know, I feel kind of sorry for him," Neville said.

"Unfortunately, he learned all too late that you shouldn’t be taken for granted."

"Damn right," Harry agreed, shaking his head. But whatever Luna was about to say was interrupted when the compartment door swung open again.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter," said a third-year girl, her face turning bright red at the mention of the Boy Who Lived. Neville and Harry exchanged a brief, puzzled glance before taking the letters from her.

She stumbled back and hurried out of the compartment. Shaking their heads, they opened their letters to read the contents.

"What is it?" Luna asked, peering out from her Quibbler. "An invitation," Neville replied.

"Who's Slughorn?" 

"He's the new teacher," Harry said, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else than where this invitation suggested. "Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely, Professor H.E.F."

"What does he want from me?" Neville asked, looking confused. "Good question," Harry replied.

"He's a collector. He likes making friends with people who will go on to do something significant in the wizarding world or those who are related to someone influential.

He taught our parents, Neville."

"Oh," Neville said, his expression growing even more anxious. This invitation only added to his nerves; living up to his parents was a tough challenge.

Harry understood that well and wished Neville wouldn’t put that pressure on himself; it wasn’t healthy. He knew from experience, having spent four years trying to measure up to his own parents—and feeling like he hadn’t quite succeeded.

"Are you going?" Neville asked, looking as if he’d rather catch the plague or eat his own intestines. "No," Harry said, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to sit there and listen to him prattle on about me and my accomplishments."

Neville looked visibly relieved. "Strange, isn’t it?" Luna said, tilting her head to the side.

"What?" Neville asked, both he and Harry glancing at her with curiosity. "Malfoy hasn't come in; he always does," Luna explained.

"He's probably bothering the younger students," Harry shrugged, although Luna's observation did pique his interest. Malfoy had been avoiding him ever since that day last summer.

Severus had given him detention all last year; hopefully, the idiot had learned his lesson. Harry still remembered Draco's face after he’d cast the spell, just before he’d collapsed.

Malfoy had looked deathly pale, almost sickly; deep down, Harry knew he didn’t have the guts to become a Death Eater. Still, it was curious… what was Malfoy up to?