A New Place to Stay Chapter 49 - Harry Potter

Deep in his private lab, Severus Snape finishes the most dangerous brew of his life, a basilisk venom Horcrux removal potion built from Zar’s willingly given fangs and every scrap of Dark lore he can find. While it simmers, he discovers Harry’s secret basilisk journal, complete with detailed illustrations and research notes that impress him enough to suggest publishing under a pseudonym. When Harry catches him reading, embarrassment turns into quiet pride as Severus calls the work enlightening and rare. Over coffee, cake and talk of Dumbledore’s Gaunt memories, they dissect Marvolo, Morfin and Merope’s story, rage at how little the Headmaster is really teaching, and plan more non verbal spell training. Snape openly says he is proud of Harry’s grades, Harry teases about Hermione being jealous of the Half Blood Prince notes, and the chapter closes with a sense of sharpened focus: the potion is nearly ready, the Horcrux will be challenged again, and father and son are very much in this war together.

Transcript

**Chapter 49: The Horcruxes**

Severus stood in his private Potions lab, tucked away inside his quarters. It was the perfect location, especially since Slughorn had taken over as the Potions teacher.

The main labs were reserved for classes and seventh-year students conducting their independent studies. This hidden space had always been his sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world.

Not even Dumbledore ventured down here, which he was grateful for. The Headmaster preferred to send Patronus messages or communicate during mealtimes.

Severus focused intently on the potion simmering before him. He was about to attempt something incredibly risky: adding Basilisk venom to the mixture.

Timing was critical; he had only five seconds to introduce the venom after stirring ten times clockwise. If he failed, the potion would explode violently.

Fortunately, Zar had willingly provided his venom; he seemed to have a peculiar fondness for Harry. It was true that any creature treated well would go to great lengths for their caretaker.

Zar could sense Harry from a distance and always returned to him. Now, Zar had grown to thirty feet long and was still getting bigger.

Severus recalled that the basilisk Harry had faced was likely sixty or even seventy feet in length. He had no idea how long they grew to be, since few could get close enough to a basilisk to observe their growth.

After completing the stirring, he carefully dropped in the venom, which was prepped in a dropper. With a final plop, the last drop joined the potion, and Severus held his breath.

His heart raced like a drum, adrenaline coursing through him. There was nothing quite like the thrill of creating a new potion or brewing one he had never attempted before.

The last time he had felt this rush so intensely was when he had invented the Wolfsbane potion. He closed his eyes in relief as he realized it had worked.

The venom blended seamlessly with the potion, just as he had hoped. This was the only solution he could think of that might eliminate the Horcrux.

The others had been destroyed with the basilisk venom: the diary, the locket, and, of course, the ring. The remnants of those were tucked away in a chest, secured with every spell he could muster to keep it safe.

He wasn’t certain if they would ever be useful again, but if they might be, they were worth holding onto. Severus began tidying up the chaos, casting cleansing spells to ensure no residue was left behind.

He knew the entire table had to be sterilized after each potion; otherwise, the remnants could interfere with whatever ingredient he planned to cut next. Once that was finished, he placed protection spells on the potion to prevent it from tipping over or having anything added to it.

It needed to simmer for another three hours, and once cooled, it would be ready for consumption. Hopefully, this would successfully remove the Horcrux from Harry.

As he closed the door, he surveyed his living area and shook his head. Harry's belongings were scattered everywhere.

Books were strewn across the table, along with the journals he took with him wherever he went. He must have been there before heading straight to Dumbledore's office.

A large stack of parchment sat on his favorite chair. Picking it up, curiosity got the better of him.

His eyebrow arched as he read the front page. Sitting down, he began to read, quietly impressed by how much Harry's writing had improved.

He had documented everything about Zar, from the time before the basilisk hatched to the present. There were seventeen long chapters, one for each piece of parchment.

The most remarkable aspect was the pictures; he hadn’t realized Harry could or even liked to draw. He wondered if Harry intended to publish it.

He certainly should; it was excellent work, and coming from Harry, that meant something. “Dobby?” Severus called out as he continued to read.

This was definitely something he would buy. It wasn’t just about basilisks, their habits, and reactions, but also the usefulness of their ingredients—an addition that would surely appeal to various audiences.

“Yes, sir?” Dobby replied. “Sir?” Dobby asked, appearing covered from head to toe in flour.

Considering his small size, it wasn’t as much as it looked. Regardless, he was always delighted to see Master Severus, even more so to see Harry—though not today, since Harry wasn’t here.

“Having fun?” Severus asked wryly, observing the state of the little elf. “Can Dobby help Master Severus?” Dobby inquired, his wide green eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Severus wasn’t quite sure what for. Usually, no one asked Dobby questions; only the great Harry Potter had ever done so.

Harry had even invited Dobby to sit with him, proving to be such a good wizard. It was no wonder Dobby liked him so much, especially after having endured a life of abuse and mistreatment.

In a twisted way, they were all kindred spirits—abused simply for who they were and for having been born. “Coffee, some sandwiches, and anything sweet if it's available, please, Dobby,” Severus said, giving the elf his full attention for a moment before returning to the manuscript in front of him.

Just then, a pop signaled that Dobby had left. Severus realized he hadn’t eaten much that day and felt a pang of hunger.

It was late, nearly curfew already. Thankfully, he wasn’t on patrol tonight—that duty fell to Filch, the head boy, the prefects, and, of course, Minerva.

The teachers divided up the responsibilities so they could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. It was taking some time to adjust to not teaching dunderheads how to brew potions.

He preferred teaching Defense; it was much simpler, and at least nobody could get killed if he overlooked a mistake. Slughorn, however, was getting on his nerves—no surprise there.

He had been raving about how brilliant Harry was at potions, which filled Severus with both satisfaction and pride. He wasn’t the only teacher; all of them had been praising Harry since last year.

Harry’s O.W.L. scores had been very good, and Severus couldn’t have been happier with him.

That was why he had rewarded him for his efforts. Severus was pleasantly surprised when Dobby reappeared, carrying a large tray that was bigger than the house-elf himself.

The tray was filled with a delightful assortment of biscuits, cakes, sandwiches, and the coffee he had ordered. "Thank you, Dobby," Severus said with a hint of gratitude.

"Anything else, sir?" Dobby asked eagerly. "No, thank you, Dobby.

Why don't you get some rest?" Severus suggested, knowing that rest was a foreign concept to house-elves. They thrived on busyness, working tirelessly day in and day out.

"Yes, sir," Dobby replied, and with that, he vanished once again. Just then, Harry burst through the door, clutching his invisibility cloak in his arms.

"Hey, that's mine!" he exclaimed defensively upon seeing Severus reading his book. He couldn't believe that Severus had read it.

It wasn’t anger he felt, but embarrassment. He had never intended for anyone to see it, especially not his dad.

"Indeed," Severus said, fixing his gaze on Harry and placing the parchment on his lap. He pondered what was going through Harry's mind.

The downside of teaching him Occlumency was that he could no longer read Harry as easily. Yet, after all these years, Severus could still sense Harry’s initial reaction.

Harry seemed more put out, defensive, and perhaps a bit embarrassed, rather than angry. "You shouldn't have read that," Harry protested, standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say next.

"You shouldn't be ashamed; it's very good, Harry. It's certainly worth publishing.

It's an enlightening piece of work," Severus replied sincerely. "Not many have the ability to study such creatures, let alone the opportunity to do so.

Your insights could shed valuable light on basilisks and snakes in general. Your talent is highly coveted by many.

It's a shame you've primarily encountered those who fear it because of its association with the Dark Lord. Even so, the other students shouldn’t be scared; they should largely be unaware of…”

"The Dark Lord's ability," Severus said.

"You were scared as well," Harry remarked, settling into his seat, a warm flush of pleasure spreading through him. It was always high praise coming from Severus; he never said anything he didn't mean.

"Excuse me?" Severus replied, his voice low and tinged with indignation. "Alright, maybe it wasn't fear," Harry conceded.

"But it was something. You don't usually show emotion, yet that day, you looked stunned, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing and were waiting to wake up any second."

"I admit, I was momentarily startled, perhaps even a little envious.

As you know, it's a talent I admire. One day, I would love to have the ability to converse with them, but I'm also grateful for what I have at the moment," Severus said honestly.

Being able to understand them was more than he could have hoped for. "Harry, I really think you should consider publishing this."

"Why?

They'd just buy it because of who I am," Harry scowled, the dark thoughts of his fame swirling in his mind. It didn't help that he knew if he managed to defeat Voldemort for good, the fame would only multiply.

"They would," Severus agreed, "which is why people often choose to write under a pseudonym. That way, readers can appreciate the book for its own merits and judge it impartially."

"I never thought of that," Harry admitted sheepishly.

Deep down, he had never intended for anyone else to read the book—at least not consciously. But now, with Severus's encouragement, he felt a growing desire to publish it.

If his dad believed it was good, then it must truly be worthy of publication. "The illustrations are also very well done.

I had no idea you liked drawing," Severus added. "I do; I've always enjoyed it.

Back in my cupboard, I had a picture of Hagrid before I even met him here, riding a flying motorcycle. I thought it was just my imagination at first.

I also drew Hedwig once during the summer... using paper and pens that had been left in the room." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes.

Severus clenched his shoulders as he spoke. It frustrated him to think that all of Harry's talents had been stifled by both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

They expected him to excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts and maybe Transfiguration—thanks to James—but showed no interest in his other abilities. Perhaps Severus should get him some art supplies, just a starter kit.

It might not be something Harry pursued long-term, but it could spark something. The clock chimed, marking the arrival of curfew.

Severus glanced at Harry again; he didn’t seem magically drained, just a bit irritated, perhaps lost in thought about their earlier activities. “What happened?” Severus asked.

A vivid image flashed through Severus's mind of Marvolo Gaunt grabbing Merope, nearly choking her as he displayed that ridiculous locket—which was now nothing more than a useless piece of burnt metal. The last remnants of the Gaunt family's pride had vanished.

It was a strange sensation, hearing people around him speak Parseltongue in the Pensieve; humans actually using it as a secret language. He wasn't looking forward to the upcoming meetings.

His father would want to know more; he always believed in the adage, "Know your enemy, and only then can you hope to defeat him." 

Not that Severus was truly learning anything new. He had read all of this ages ago in the newspapers.

He was tired of playing the ignorant Potter card, but he couldn’t reveal that he knew about the Horcruxes. “He showed me a memory from a man called Ogden—Bob Ogden.

He used to be the head of the Magical Law Enforcement squad. Dumbledore said he managed to persuade him to share the memory of his dealings with the Gaunt family.”

“Typical,” Severus replied, his lip curling in disgust.

That was just like Dumbledore—making promises and then doing the opposite. Harry already knew most of this information, so the so-called "lessons" would likely be a waste of time.

Didn’t Dumbledore want Harry to survive? How could he not prepare him?

Severus was left grappling with the implications of what lay ahead. It baffled him, despite everything he already understood.

Did Dumbledore truly believe that Harry was destined to die for the greater good? Why hadn’t he sought a way to save him, instead of going about his business like the two-faced monster he was?

There were no words strong enough to express the depths of Dumbledore's depravity. In some respects, he was worse than the Dark Lord, and Severus was unwavering in that conviction.

Thank Merlin he had discovered the truth when he did; otherwise, Harry would still be the foolish, clueless boy he had been for four long years—a willing lamb to the slaughter. Lily would be rolling in her grave at Dumbledore's actions; she had died to protect her son, and this was how Dumbledore repaid her sacrifice?

“What was the memory about?” Severus asked, his curiosity piqued. “It was the time Morfin cursed Tom Riddle,” Harry replied, a hint of bemusement in his voice.

“It was in the paper, remember? Ogden went to the Gaunt property; it was just as run-down then.

They all spoke Parseltongue. You can’t imagine how strange it was to see an entire family communicating that way.”

“He couldn’t understand them, of course,” Severus noted.

“Marvolo chased Ogden off the property with a knife. What happened next?”

“From the paper, I pieced it together,” Harry continued.

“Marvolo attacked the Ministry workers and ended up arrested as well. Both he and Morfin were sentenced to Azkaban.

Merope drugged Tom Riddle, and they left together. She either forgot to give him the potion or stopped, thinking he would stay for the sake of the baby.”

“That’s it?

That’s all he showed you?” Severus demanded, struggling to keep his anger in check. Perhaps he should slip some poison ivy into the fool's clothes—it was nothing less than he deserved.

“Yes, Marvolo was insane,” Harry admitted. “The whole family had a screw loose,” Severus agreed.

“Growing up with Marvolo? I can’t blame them,” Harry scoffed.

“It’s ironic, really. Adding Muggle blood or mothers with hardly any magic…”

"Created such magically powerful offspring." 

"Indeed," Severus replied wryly.

His own mother's magic had been weak; she couldn't even manage a simple spell to defend herself against her husband. The only things she excelled at were Potions and Gobstones, both of which could have earned her a decent living.

Instead, she had retreated into the Muggle world, getting herself disowned, marrying the first man who showed her any attention, and quickly becoming pregnant. She had lived the life span of a normal Muggle, likely due to her lack of magic.

It seemed that magic extended life; the stronger the magic, the longer the life. Just look at Dumbledore or Bathilda Bagshot.

Bagshot, though, was as ancient as her History of Magic book—well past its sell-by date. "Come down tomorrow after lunch; I want to work some more on non-verbal magic," Severus said, shifting the topic.

He had begun teaching Harry just before the break, and he wanted to continue. Harry was quite good at non-verbal spells, and Severus was eager to see how far he could push him and what he was capable of.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. He really enjoyed non-verbal spells; they came naturally to him, much like everything else in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms.

"Good. Your teachers are very impressed with your homework and participation in class.

Well done; I’m proud of you, Harry." Severus knew that a bit of praise went a long way with Harry. Having gone so long without it, receiving compliments now motivated him to strive for more.

"I’ve also noticed you speaking to Miss Granger; have you worked out your differences?" Severus inquired. "No, she’s still angry," Harry replied quietly.

He grabbed a piece of cake and a small fork, taking a bite before continuing. "She hates that I’m doing better than she is in Potions.

I think she brewed the Draught of the Living Death again after class, but it didn’t turn out the way I did it. She’s practically accusing me of cheating.

Maybe you should give her some calming draught; she looks like she could use it."

He actually felt a bit sorry for her; she was exhausting herself. Every morning, she came down to breakfast looking as if she hadn't slept at all.

Whenever she wasn't in class or doing homework, she was reading every book she could get her hands on, primarily about Potions, trying to figure out how Harry was managing it all. Even Ron had started spending more time with Finnegan and Thomas.

It was obvious that Ron didn’t realize Thomas was currently dating his sister. Ginny had flushed red in embarrassment when she caught them together, her eyes reflecting shame and disappointment for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

He couldn't help but wonder how Hermione would feel about his success if they were still friends. Would she still be jealous?

If he had been excelling since his first year, would she have remained his friend? Was it so wrong to want good grades to impress someone he cared about and loved?

His dad expected him to do well, especially after learning what he was capable of. For those good grades, he had even received a broomstick as a reward.

Flying again had been incredible. He’d missed it more than he realized; the freedom it brought was exhilarating.

"She's jealous of the Half-Blood Prince," Harry said with a cheeky grin. Severus felt his lip quiver with amusement.

It was strange to see Hermione so unhinged; she was usually composed and calm, except when she was waving her hand in the air and standing on her toes. It was infuriating.

She was annoying, but Harry seemed to be making it worse. His son’s success was pushing Hermione to try harder, but she wasn’t the center of attention anymore, so her efforts weren’t yielding the results she probably envisioned.

"The book is amazing! I don’t know why you didn’t publish it," Harry exclaimed, clearly impressed.

"With the revised instructions, the potions are turning out brilliantly. Slughorn’s singing my praises; apparently, I’ve inherited my mum’s knack for Potions." His tone turned teasing.

"Indeed you have," Severus agreed, hating the fact that... He hadn’t seen it before.

If Harry had been allowed to truly thrive, just how much better would he have been at Potions? Even during detention or at times like this, could he have kept it a secret at such a young age?

It was an awful expectation for an eleven-year-old to bear. Then again, he had kept a much bigger secret.

Unfortunately, there was no way to undo the past—only to try to repair the damage. Not everything was reversible; while the physical scars might have faded, the mental ones would linger until the day he died.

“Go on, get some sleep. You’re going to need it.” 

Harry quickly finished his chocolate sponge cake, placing the empty plate and fork down before getting up.

As his invisibility cloak wrapped around him, he walked to the door. “Goodnight, Sev,” he said, wishing he had the courage to call him what he really wanted to.

If they both survived the war, he promised he would express his gratitude for everything Severus had done for him. However, the chances of both of them making it through were slim.

He would do everything in his power—admittedly, that was a lot more now that his dad was teaching him all he could. It was a shame that one person couldn’t read another's magical strands; otherwise, Severus would have known long ago just how much Harry cared.

As it stood, those strands were private and changed according to the wizard’s feelings. The question was whether they would run out of time.

All anyone could do was wait and see. One thing was certain: Harry would regret it forever if he never got the chance to say it.