A New Place to Stay Chapter 51 - Harry Potter

October closes in cold and tense as Harry juggles fake “detentions” with Severus, real Horcrux lessons with Dumbledore, and a quietly dangerous Draco Malfoy. Down in the dungeons, Severus finally unveils the completed Horcrux removal potion, powered by basilisk venom and a vial of Fawkes’s phoenix tears. The price, however, is brutal: Harry must literally die for the soul fragment to be forced out. Over coffee and Dobby-delivered snacks, Severus explains the plan and asks the only question that matters—does Harry trust him enough to go through with it? Harry says yes. What follows is agony as the venom stops his heart, Zar nearly attacks in grief, and Severus fights to bring his son back with phoenix potion, CPR, and sheer stubborn will. When Harry finally gasps a breath and squeezes his hand, Severus knows the risk paid off… but the hissing in the corner now sounds like meaningless snake noise, and Harry realises that in losing the Horcrux, he may also have lost his Parseltongue—and his way of speaking to Zar.

Transcript

**Chapter 51: A Few Weeks Go By**

Three nearly four weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye. October was almost behind them, and the weather was steadily getting colder.

It had been cooling down for the past month, but thankfully, Hogwarts was always warm. It must have had warming spells woven into its walls.

Still, when the harsher weather began, it was clear that the warmth wasn’t enough to keep everyone comfortable. On Monday, Harry met with Dumbledore, who had once again summoned him.

Learning more about Voldemort’s personality while maintaining his Potter persona around the Headmaster was becoming tedious. Severus wasn’t any happier with Dumbledore either, especially with what Harry was ‘learning’ in the old fool’s company.

Perhaps it was also due to the lack of sleep he had been experiencing lately. He had spent a great deal of time in the Potions lab, and the only moments Harry saw him were during their lessons together—or, according to the rest of Hogwarts, during ‘detention’ for the smallest infractions.

The most concerning aspect of the past few weeks was Draco Malfoy. He was quiet—far too quiet.

It felt like a repeat of last year, and frankly, Harry was worried about what he was up to. Malfoy was marked as a Death Eater; what could he possibly be planning?

Harry made sure not to eat or drink anything he hadn’t personally checked for potions or spells. He didn’t trust Malfoy as far as he could throw him.

Sure, people deserved a second chance, but that was only if they changed and learned from their mistakes, much like Hermione and Ron had. Unfortunately, they hadn’t learned; they just continued to try to get him to forget and move on, as if everything was fine again.

Ron had followed him everywhere last year, and Hermione's jealousy hadn’t helped either. If he wanted to forgive them, he couldn’t—not while they were treating him this way.

Luna and Neville were in the library, planning to head to the Room of Requirement later, but Harry had ‘detention’ with Severus again. He made sure to be seen heading to the classroom before...

Harry donned his cloak and made his way to his dad’s quarters in silence. Zar had been out for nearly a week, which worried him, but he knew Zar could take care of himself.

What concerned him more was everyone at Hogwarts; he didn’t want the rumors from second year to start circulating all over again. Zar had grown up so quickly, and Harry found himself missing him when he wasn’t around.

But considering the alternative, he felt lucky to have that bond. If he hadn’t discovered the familiar bonding spell, Zar would have had to go into the chamber.

He was simply too big to wander around with him anymore. “Hi,” Harry said, surprised to see Severus sitting there with the Marauder's Map open on his lap.

He hung his cloak on the peg by the door and took a seat. “No training?” he asked.

Severus shook his head, and Harry couldn’t help but feel surprised. Severus was meticulous; he thrived on order and routine.

But Harry realized that since he lacked control in other areas of his life, especially with Voldemort looming over them, he preferred to create structure wherever he could. “I have perfected the potion to remove the Horcrux,” Severus announced.

He had been trying to source Phoenix tears for weeks, but none had been available on the market. Even the lure of five grams of Basilisk skin hadn’t tempted anyone he knew to admit they had any.

Just when he had given up hope of starting, let alone completing, the second potion, Fawkes had appeared in his workroom. Now he had an entire vial of tears, and only two drops were necessary for the second potion.

The rest he would use sparingly; after all, it wasn’t often that a phoenix willingly cried for anyone. “Okay,” Harry said, studying his dad closely.

Severus didn’t look the slightest bit happy, despite having just invented a potion. He might be tired, but Harry sensed it was something more.

“What’s wrong? Am I going to have to die for it to work?” he joked.

Harry said, “Yes.” Severus stared at him with a blank expression, hiding the worry he felt to such an extent that he hesitated to give Harry the potion to remove the soul fragment. “What?” Harry cried in surprise.

That wasn’t the response he had been hoping for, and there wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm in Severus's voice; he was serious. Harry looked at his father, who appeared pale and clammy, unsure about the sudden shift in their conversation.

If there was anyone he trusted, it was Severus. But the thought of dying to remove it...

well, it was only human nature to stubbornly protest against that idea. “Do you trust me, Harry?” Severus asked, shifting to the edge of his seat, clearly apprehensive about Harry's response.

He had protected Harry, trained him, and given him what he wanted more than anything else in the world. Would it be enough?

Did Harry have enough faith in him to go through with this? “You know I do,” Harry replied bluntly, and he meant it.

Severus was not just a father figure; he was a mentor and a psychologist all rolled into one. Without his guidance, Harry would still be a clueless idiot today—if not a completely lost one.

He had known about Dumbledore and the rest, but not about the Prophecy or why he was being targeted. Severus had taught him everything he needed to survive, while Dumbledore kept insisting that “love” would save him.

At this point, Harry was convinced the old fool was completely barmy. Still, he wasn’t really prepared to die—not without knowing everything.

“What happens?” Harry asked. Severus’s lips twitched; he could see how Harry was meant to be a Slytherin.

Whether he fully trusted him or not, Harry wanted answers before they did anything. “Sit down,” Severus instructed.

It would take a while, and perhaps this was the best time to get something into Harry, considering what might happen afterward. Harry plopped down in the seat, arranging himself comfortably.

“So?” he inquired, curious about how this was all going to play out. “Dobby?” Severus called.

“Severus,” the house elf said, appearing with wide, excited eyes. He loved serving Master Severus and Harry.

There was never a dull moment, especially when he had the chance to watch Umbridge squirm. He found even more joy in seeing Dumbledore get his due.

“Bring us some coffee, juice, and something to eat,” Severus instructed without hesitation. “Dobby will be doing that right now,” the house elf replied, vanishing with a smile, happy that someone was taking care of his Master Harry Potter.

“It’s not as simple as our last attempt,” Severus admitted. “I think I know why it’s not working.

It’s not just stuck to your magical core; it’s tied to your life as well. The potion contains Basilisk venom, which will act as it always does.

The moment your heart stops beating, the Horcrux should be leached from your core and disappear. Once that happens, I will administer the second potion, which contains phoenix tears.

It will heal all the damage that occurred.”

“Why didn’t it come away in my second year?” Harry asked thoughtfully, resting his chin on the arm of the chair and gazing pensively at Severus. “I came very close to dying.”

“I have often wondered that myself.

My guess is that you didn’t actually die, so it didn’t work,” Severus explained. “This time you will, and then I will resuscitate you once the second potion is in your system.”

“You don’t have to sound so calm about it,” Harry grumbled, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

Severus chuckled. “When do you ever see me panicking?” he asked wryly.

Harry let out a frustrated puff of air from where he lay, his stomach in knots. He wanted that piece of Voldemort out of him, but at what cost?

What if it all went wrong? What if he really did die?

Sighing, Harry knew he had to go through with it. Not only was the Horcrux leaching his magic, but he couldn’t risk Voldemort discovering information about Severus.

Or worse yet…

Voldemort was actually possessing him through the piece of his soul. “If you don’t want to do this, Harry, I understand,” Severus said quietly, his gaze fixed on him.

Waves of nervousness radiated from Harry, and Severus could relate; he would never go through with what he was asking of him. The abused part of him was likely rebelling dangerously, yet the part that had managed to survive against all odds was fueled by an intense thirst for life, having defied the Dark Lord many times.

“It’s not about whether I want to or not, you know that,” Harry murmured, resignation in his voice. Severus remained silent, knowing Harry was right.

Dobby returned with their food, but just the sight of it made Harry's stomach twist in knots. “It will help you if you eat something, Harry,” Severus said, his tone oddly perceptive, as if he could read Harry’s thoughts.

But he knew that was impossible; Harry's mental shields were always up, even while he slept. “I don’t think I can,” Harry replied, turning away from the food, unable to look at it.

Severus decided to let it go; forcing Harry would do no good in this state. To be honest, he wasn’t particularly hungry either.

However, he did take the coffee and drink it; he needed all the strength he could muster. He was frankly exhausted, having required near-constant supervision of the potion for an entire week.

It came as no surprise to anyone that the students had paid the price for it, losing house points but, oddly enough, never receiving detentions unless it was from another teacher. Harry was the only exception he had ever made.

“Can we just get this over with?” Harry said, the unspoken thought of changing his mind echoing loudly, as if he had screamed it. “Alright,” Severus agreed, strengthening his resolve before he could back out himself.

He had quadruple-checked his results; he knew it would work. Otherwise, he would never dare risk Harry’s life.

He wasn’t Dumbledore; he would never embark on half-cocked schemes. Severus couldn't waste time teaching Harry about the Dark Lord’s personality as a young boy.

All he needed to know was that Voldemort was insane. The potions lay on the table, appearing innocent enough—if they both didn’t already know what was inside one of them: Zar’s basilisk venom.

“This one first,” Severus said, his heartbeat racing, though he gave no indication of his worry. Harry took the potion and carefully pried the cork out, shivering slightly.

If this was anything like his second year, he was in for agony. He had to do this.

He didn’t want Voldemort’s soul inside him, nor did he want more visions or anything that could slip through his shields. Closing his eyes, his thoughts drifted to Luna, Neville, and Severus.

Merlin help him, the things he did for those he cared about. With a deep breath, he swallowed the potion in one swift motion.

The pain struck immediately, completely incapacitating him. He fell to the floor, a tortured moan escaping his lips as he began to twitch in anguish.

Severus crouched beside Harry, the other potion and his wand resting nearby. His mask was abandoned as he watched Harry suffer in silence, holding him steady while trying to help his son endure the pain.

There was nothing he could give him—nothing that would help. The venom was far too strong for even the most potent pain relief; it would burn out within seconds.

Harry felt as if he wanted to die. He couldn’t take it anymore; it hadn’t been this painful back in his second year.

Each breath was a struggle, his heart slowing beat by beat. He wanted to shout to Severus, to tell him to put him out of his misery, but he couldn’t.

He felt sorry for not being strong enough. Unfortunately, his mouth wouldn’t cooperate; it was clenched shut, preventing him from screaming as he desperately wanted to.

It felt as though the torment had gone on for hours. Then, to his immense relief, Severus felt the pain begin to fade.

Had it worked? Had Harry died?

With one last thump, Harry's heart stopped, plunging him into oblivion. His thoughts ceased entirely.

A fear unlike anything he had ever experienced, not even on that fateful Halloween night, coursed through him as he realized Harry had abruptly stopped breathing. There was no flash of light, no sign that a fragment of a soul was departing.

Praying he hadn’t put Harry through this for nothing, Severus poured the potion down Harry’s unresisting throat, then cast a spell to restart his heart. Each second felt like an eternity as he worked frantically to bring Harry back.

Suddenly, a menacing hiss echoed from the corner of the room, where Zar could enter and exit. The basilisk emerged, baring its teeth in a sinister, sadistic manner, its yellow eyes piercing through Severus with a look that could only be described as betrayal and fury.

“Stop!” Severus shouted, his voice hoarse. “He will be fine, I promise.” He was grateful that Zar understood English at that moment; otherwise, he knew the basilisk would have attacked him.

Zar was fiercely loyal to Harry, and it was no wonder—Harry had spoiled him. The basilisk halted its advance, flicking its large tongue out as it processed Severus's words.

It lay there, tail swishing impatiently, even breaking a table in the process, waiting for Severus to bring back its Harry. Severus returned to Harry, performing CPR, careful not to overuse the spell, knowing how taxing it could be on the heart.

He did five compressions at a time before breathing into Harry’s mouth, forcing himself not to think of anything else. He refused to let his mind wander, knowing that doing so would lead him to berate himself for not finding another way to deal with the Horcrux.

Deep down, he knew he had exhausted every option available to him. Just as he began to fear that Harry wouldn’t respond at all...

Severus felt the weight of time pressing down on him. If he took any longer, Harry might suffer permanent brain damage.

Just then, a shuddering breath escaped Harry's lips. Severus could have laughed at the irony if he weren’t so composed.

The important thing was that he was alive. “Harry?

Can you hear me?” Severus asked, staring intently into Harry's glassy eyes. It was no surprise they looked that way; he had just technically died.

“Squeeze my hand if you can understand me, Harry. Now.” Severus needed to know if he had caused any lasting damage.

He held his hand out, waiting with bated breath for any sign—anything at all. Harry felt as though a truck had landed on his chest.

His body was weaker than it had ever felt before. He could hear someone speaking to him, but who was it?

What had happened? Had he almost died again?

The voice was familiar, and he focused on the words, slowly pushing through the fog in his mind. Squeeze his hand—surely he could manage that.

Harry tried with all his strength, but all he could do was weakly grasp it for a few seconds before it fell limp at his side again. He had squeezed his hand, even if just for a moment.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief so profound that he almost lay down beside Harry to regain his composure. He wanted to check if the Horcrux was gone, but he couldn’t do that right now.

Harry’s mind was likely still very fragile. Standing up, he levitated Harry onto the couch.

“Accio pain reliever,” Severus murmured, summoning the potion from mid-air and gently feeding it to his barely conscious son. If Harry wasn’t recovered by tonight, they would have some explaining to do.

At least it was the weekend; he didn’t have to worry about classes or teachers. Neville Longbottom was not one to report to the teachers.

In all the years they had been at Hogwarts, he had never once done so—not even to tell them that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were planning to sneak out at night. Neville preferred to keep to himself, avoiding unnecessary attention.

Neville Longbottom tried not to draw attention to himself, but these days, it was difficult. With the spotlight that came from being Harry Potter's friend and the weight he had lost, he was growing into a young man that Frank Longbottom would be proud to call his son.

When he wasn’t near Harry, Neville excelled in class, mastering Patronus charms and non-verbal magic. It was as if Harry’s presence instilled a confidence in him that even he couldn’t shake off.

Not that Harry did much to interfere; he mostly let Neville be, choosing to focus on his own challenges instead. “Better?” Severus asked, feeling his own emotions beginning to stabilize.

Harry, unable to speak, simply nodded. He did feel better—the pain was fading away, leaving him feeling more lethargic than ever.

But then he heard it: hissing. Actual hissing.

It broke his heart, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He realized he had lost his ability to communicate with snakes… he had lost Zar.

Then, oblivion enveloped him, taking with it his chaotic emotions.