Life in a Day​

A pinch of salt, perhaps? Severus looked in his cauldron, frowned, and dropped almost a full hand of salt in it. Without a second look, he moved unto the second cauldron. Its surface was like that of a sea, dark blue and unsteady.

From the inside, the white smoke rose, in a nearly perfect spiral, yet not quite there. "Second cauldron is a failure," he said in a clear voice, and the quill that rested on a desk sprang to life, writing neat lines on a piece of parchment. "Aconite dissolved too quickly rendering its properties nulled." He frowned again and leaned in to sniff the potion. "All but its toxicity."

The third potion was looking all wrong. It was as thick as cement and orange, a color no decent potion should ever have. Unless it was some monstrosity made by the Weasley twins.

He stabbed his wooden curry spoon into it and raised it close to his face. "Third cauldron shows some result." He licked the gelatine and then spat on the ground. "I should’ve used African sea salt," he muttered.

He cleared his throat. "British sea salt’s properties are weaker than needed, making the potion unstable, or rather, too stable." A laugh almost escaped his mouth but he caught himself in time. "The concoction needs to be liquified, purified, and reintroduced to the salt, African this time, to a greater effect. Dosage needs a second metering, and⁠–"⁠

The air from his mouth became visible, and the room’s temperature dropped. The shadow from the outside of the cell fell upon the room, big and oppressive, and the faint light his candles provided became even fainter, only to disappear a moment later, leaving him in darkness.

And then they came.

His mind was his own no more. He heard women and men screaming, pleading for their lives. He felt the bites of a snake on his skin. The disgusting sense of vomit crawled up his throat...

The familiar burst of cool wind made Severus shudder and he turned around, towards the thick, steel bars that started to spread. It was followed by a familiar headache too when the man he came to know better than he would’ve liked to, made his way through the bars which closed as soon as the man passed, enchanted to bend only to his authority.

"Potter," he said and nodded.

Potter nodded back, his young face hollow, and his beard unkempt. He neatly folded his scarf, placed a long coat on a hanger he made the first time he came around and then he rolled the sleeves of his muggle shirt.

"Are you done?" Severus said, and then, for a good measure, he added sneer.

Potter sighed. "I am well. And you?"

Severus didn’t dignify that with an answer and turned around. "The coloring of the third cauldron needs further investigation. The source unknown as of yet," he dictated. "Over." And quill fell down, dead once again.

Potter stepped up beside him, curiously peering into the cauldron. "What are you working on?"

"What you ordered me to, Potter," he said, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the second cauldron. "Evanesco."

He savored the way Potter cringed, just the way he knew he would, and allowed the tiniest of the smiles to break out. "What’s your business here?"

Potter sighed again and sat on a single chair that was in the room. Snape frowned and conjured himself another one.

"Teddy’s getting worse," Potter said, looking down, and made a long pause. "I thought we could continue working on the cure. But we can go over plants again if you want."

Plants! Severus almost yelled but collected himself instead. "Have you read the assigned texts?"

"The ones about the Wolfsbane? Yeah."

"Good," Severus said and stood up. "It will do." For now. "Mind you, the progress would be better if I could see the victim…"

"Teddy," Potter said through his teeth and clenched his fists. "His name is Teddy. Use it!"

"Nonetheless, we will continue as planned." Severus went on. "What stage are we at?"

Potter breathed in, his fists were still tight, but he answered, "Third."

"Which is?"

"Combining the properties of ingredients to match the personalities of Werewolf."

"I read the text, Potter. If I wanted the same answer, I would just reread it."

Potter bristled. "It means that we have to extract and focus on the opposite properties of the same ingredient, much as the personality of the Werewolf is the opposite of a wizard's own."

In the spite of himself, Severus inclined his head. "And how shall we do so?"

"Using a scientific approach. We’ll measure, observe, and note the changes to the original recipe, and use the gained knowledge to create a modified one that will hopefully work on Teddy."

"So you do listen, Potter. You see, I’ve always wondered."

"Knock it off, will you?" Potter said, raising his voice. "We have work to do."

"Very well," Snape said and paused. "What’s the news from the outside?"

"Do we have to do this?" Potter whined, and Severus just stared.

"The rogue Dementors are still breeding uncontrollably, and the ministry’s in chaos. The weather is constantly bad at this point, and even muggles can see that something’s amiss." Potter shook his head. "And I have my hands full with Teddy. I just don’t know what to do." He buried his head into his hands, but Severus stood silent. There was little he could do, after all.

"It’s a bloody chaos out there," he continued. "You’re almost lucky to be here."

"Lucky?" Snape said and gripped his wand tighter. "I’m a prisoner. After everything I’ve done⁠–"

"You’re lucky to be alive!" Potter shouted. "And you’re lucky I got you this room, instead of one on the upper floors. I heard screaming all the way down here, you know, and it isn’t pretty."

Severus snorted. Potter tended to call his humble abode a room, but it didn’t change the truth of it.

"If you think I’ll thank you for it, you’ll end up disappointed," he said.

"Can we please get to it, Snape?"

Severus ignored that too. "And what about Hogwarts?"

Potter ran his hand through his hair. "Not good. There were around twenty students this year, none of them Slytherin, of course. Not after what happened to the last one. They’re thinking about revoking the house."

"Fools," Severus said and scoffed. "The greatest house, reduced to the rubbish."

Potter’s eyes started to look glassy. "And they told me Teddy won’t be accepted. Something about the risk being too high." He slammed the desk with a closed fist. "After everything his parents did, they’d deny him his birthright, out of old prejudices."

Severus looked at the side, silent, and started collecting the ingredients he thought necessary.

Even though he cared little, he asked, "Weasley and Granger?"

"Happy in Australia," Potter said with a hint of a smile. Some of the brightness returned to his eyes.

Lily’s eyes.

"Good," Severus simply said.

"Can we get started on the potions now?" Potter asked again.

Without a word, Severus approached the lone cauldron in the other corner of the room, veiled with a thin piece of skin.

"If too much of a vapor goes away, the whole potion will lose its potency," Severus answered the question he knew would’ve come. "Snake’s skin is the best for it, but any reptile would work."

"Alright." Potter nodded. "What’s next?"

"Precisely my question," Severus said.

"Right," he said, squinting his eyes at the potion as if that would help him with coming up with an answer. "So far we worked on a Werewolf part of it, so now we should start with countering his Metamorphic skills."

Severus made a face. "A Werewolf part," he said in a mocking voice. "What are you, a first-year?"

"Then what is it?"

"What we are attempting to do is to negate the curse long enough for the medicine to take the needed effect. We also need to do the same for his metamorphmagus abilities, for they will most certainly prevent the potion from working, seeing as it doesn’t belong in a child’s body. Until the boy grows up and learns to control it, the magic will act instinctively, like a caged animal would do."

Potter didn’t answer, but Severus was quite aware of what he was thinking. The time wasn’t on their side.

"That’s what," Severus continued, "those cauldrons are for."

Potter’s eyes widened and his mouth shaped in a perfect O. "But⁠–"

"As I said, I do as I am ordered to. Come now," Severus interrupted him and made his way to the other cauldrons. "The main ingredient is salt, along with bananas and Newt spleens. The rest is, I fear, above your level."

Potter unfortunately ignored the jest and hummed. "Those are ingredients of an Ageing potion, are they not? But what is salt for?"

"Indeed," Severus said. "A guess about the aging, if you will?"

"Right." Potter blinked and sniffed the orange potion. "It’s not proper though, so I’d assume you’re aging just a particular part of the body, but I don’t know which one. And I’m still confused about the salt."

"Taste it," Snape ordered and watched with glee as Potter charmed the little bit of it into his mouth, only to cough and spit a mere second later. "Any ideas?" he asked, his voice even.

Potter gave him a disgusted look. "No. I don’t feel any part of mine aging."

Severus snorted. "Of course not. It’s not done yet. Would it be of any help if I told you that magic too ages, as our bodies do?"

Potter scratched his beard and narrowed his eyes. "It has something to do with control, right?"

Severus nodded. "Indeed, but potion cannot be modified in a way that it targets only magic. This means we cannot target the specific part of magic either."

Potter nodded along. "So you can’t age his ability only. But salt makes it possible?"

Severus allowed himself a small smile.

"It has to do with muggle science. Salt extracts water from the cells, and water is the liquid of life. Potion’s density will be lesser and thus it will be absorbed first."

Potter glanced at the thick mass in the cauldron and gave him a disbelieving look. "I’ll trust you on that."

"Had you provided the right salt, the African one, the result would be quite different."

"I’ll write it down for the next time," Potter said. "So cells age, right? But wouldn’t that make the body age too?"

"Water is the liquid of life," Snape repeated. "The words of our ancestors often hide more than one meaning within, and water is the most common ingredient in alchemy, which is exactly what we are dabbling at here. Albus, of course, would’ve known better, but mere mortals like us have to experiment, take notes, record tries and errors."

"Right, right," Potter interrupted him. "I get it."

Severus sincerely doubted the proclamation and sneered at his student-once-more. "No soul alive understands alchemy and you, even less than most."

But Potter just shrugged. "So tell me about it."

Severus blinked at the audacity and wished more than anything that he had the option of sending the boy to detention, alas… "Alchemy, before all, is a method akin to philosophy, where our understanding of the subject shapes the way we apply potions, science and transfiguration to the greater effect, beyond the existing laws of the said fields. You will often hear simpletons use words such as mystical and metaphysical, or even spiritual, but those of us who know better, understand that those are just a sign of ignorance. Alchemy is a journey, twisted and evergoing, with as many dichotomies as there are solutions. To finish the journey, one must always be two steps ahead, anticipating the twists even before they come to be, and offering solutions to the problems unknown as of yet."

Potter actually chuckled. "Do you have a prepared speech for every subject?"

Severus raised his head a little. "You’ll understand one day," he said.

"Alright," Potter said, still smiling. "So now that you’ve enlightened me, what do we do?"

"We do science," Severus said. "Our problem has three heads, and three heads chop off we must. What are they, Potter?"

"Werewolf part, Metamorphmagus part, and the actual cure," he listed. "First two we got covered." Potter waved his hand at the cauldrons. "But we haven’t yet started with a cure."

"You haven't," Severus corrected him. "But without the victim⁠–"

"Teddy," Potter said.

"Without Teddy here, and your subpar interpretation of the symptoms, it’s a miracle we did anything at all."

Potter sat down and sighed, looking everywhere but at Severus. "What do you want to know? I’ve been observing him a lot lately. I know the answers now."

"Symptoms, Potter," Severus said almost gently, softly. "What are we treating?" Trying to. But there was no sense telling that to Potter.

"He’s got these, out of control, sudden bursts of accidental magic and they’re getting way out of my hands," Potter said, his voice full of anguish, and for the first time Severus noticed more about Potter; he was thinner than he remembered, and weighed at least two stones less. His face was gaunt, hollow, with holes in places they had no reasons to be. His eyes, once bright, were empty now, encircled with black and blue, with a twitch to his left eye.

"They’re getting longer too," Potter continued. "And more dangerous. St. Mungo won’t accept him anymore and Andromeda said it was too dangerous to stay around him." Potter shook violently, took a deep breath, and added in a small voice, "She told me it would be more merciful to drown him at this point."

Severus agreed but thought it ill to say that out loud. He pretended not to notice Potter wiping off his eyes, and just made a sound, prompting him to continue.

"He’s not present either. I mean, his eyes are open, but he’s not there. I just know it, and Merlin forbids me, those are the best times because then at least I can sleep safe and sound. He’s not sleeping. He’s not eating… I don’t know what to do."

Severus hesitated, but placed his hand on Potter’s shoulder, and squeezed it gently. "We’ll do our best," he said and quickly removed his hand. "The symptoms indicate internal problems. The same ones can be found in abused children or depressed adults, where their magic seeks to right the problems that don’t actually exist. Similar to muggle autoimmune diseases, the body turns on itself."

Potter looked at him in disbelief. "He’s trying to destroy himself?"

"His magic is," he corrected. "Your magic is your most loyal servant, and it’ll do anything in its power to stop the suffering of the host, even if that means self-destruction."

"Then we have to stop it! I’d rather have Teddy as a squib than…" Potter trailed and Severus winced at the implication.

"If it weren’t for his abilities, it might’ve been possible, alas." Severus shook his head. "Psyche ought to be our focus here."

"Can we force him Veritaserum? Like, force him to listen to his own truths and accept them? If the problem is in his mind."

Severus raised an eyebrow. It was not the worst idea ever, certainly, but… "It could also destroy his mind further," he argued, for the sake of it. For the sake of science.

"And if he doesn’t know he’s being dozed?" Potter nodded for himself, his eyes widened. "That could work, right? He could think he came up with it on its own."

"Perhaps," Severus said. "But once its effect fades, he might fall into the shock, like the Longbottoms did after the similar treatment, and after the shock, most likely, death."

"Shock? He’d get over it, wouldn’t he? I mean, he’s still young."

Severus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Medical term, Potter, not the state of adolescent mind that sees a pretty girl for the first time. It’s fatal when mixed with magic, in nine out of ten cases."

Potter frowned but said nothing.

"If you remember our lessons from your fifth year, you might remember how fragile the mind is," Severus said. "It heals best on its own, with time."

"We don’t have time," Potter said through his teeth. "He’s killing himself as we speak. He’s tearing himself apart, opening and closing his wounds in a vicious circle that I have to watch every day. We need answers now."

"A milder truth serum then," Snape said. "Mixed with Calming Draught in a tandem with mind therapy. Short bursts of legilimency while we apply the potion and fight off his magical abilities."

"I’ve never heard of such a therapy," Potter said.

"Unsurprising. It’s been banned for a century."

"Oh?"

"The potions used differed, but the method ought to remain the same."

"So how does it work?" Potter asked.

"I’ve told you earlier, magic matures as the body does until the mind takes over. We’re basically forcing the mind to take over once again, all while we keep magic bound. It’s three forces at work in our case, which I don’t believe ever happened before."

Potter nodded. "Werewolf, Metamorphmagus abilities, and the mind."

"The sickness," Severus corrected softly. "We predicted the mind as its cause."

"And if we are wrong?" Potter asked, badly concealing the anxiety in his voice.

Severus knew a million ways for things to go all wrong but voiced none. "Water," he said instead. "The liquid of life will be safe as we treat him so in the worst case, we stop administering the potion, and the body fixes itself as the cells absorb the water back."

"We’ll have to control the level of water in his body," Potter said. "There’s plenty that could go wrong."

Severus shrugged. "We’re the pioneers of the issue and most of our theories are based on guesswork."

"You said it was science."

"Science goes only so far," Severus said and shook his head.

"Shall we brew then?"

Severus smiled. He did so every time before brewing something new.

The beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses…

...and then his mind was his own once again.

Bloody Dementors. He shivered when the blasted creature finally went away and watched the bars that took his freedom so long ago, waiting for Harry to come yet again.

The creatures were getting bolder, Severus knew, and there was little they could do against the ageless, ever-present fiends they knew so little about.

He looked at the mirror behind the cauldrons and his reflection frowned at him. His skin had an unhealthy, yellowish color and sported many age spots all over his face. His nose grew even larger, and on the top of his head, the greasy mess of gray and white, with just a hint of black at the root.

"Teddy is still alive," he whispered to himself. Harry kept him somewhere, confined and dosed with a Draught of Living Dead and their latest medicine, one that Severus already forgot about.

"Expecto Patronum," he tried, but no doe appeared. Harry’s stag came on the occasion, pale and fading, but his doe had joined its original master a while ago, never to be seen again.

With a barely audible pop, Harry appeared in front of his prison cell, and slightly rusty bars squealed as they spread, making a way for him to pass.

He sported a nasty scar under his left eye that lost its color due to it and was mostly white now, and the lines on his face were wrinkled, making him look older than Severus.

"No change," he said with no emotions in his rough voice. "It’s not a fractured soul."

Harry sat down and they shared a grim silence for a few moments, and then Harry sighed.

"Possession, maybe?" he asked.

Severus cocked his head to the side. "We would see the signs of the intruder earlier."

"Unless it’s a partial one and Teddy’s still fighting him."

"Or her," Severus added for the sake of it. For the sake of science. "His abilities might have a way to trap the possessor, making it impossible for him or her to escape. A sort of internal conflict if you will."

Harry chuckled at that, and the two shared the brief laugh.

"So how do we start?" Harry asked at last.

"Polyjuice, I think," Severus responded. "It will show us the intruder if he has but a bit more control than Teddy."

Harry nodded and stood up. "It’s worth a shot."

They started to collect the ingredients.

 

3472 words

 

Ooh, Snape – these are often interesting.

Spoiler

I find myself questioning what’s going on a bit too much at the start here.

At first it seems clear he’s experimenting with potions, which makes sense. It’s possible it has to do with werewolves given the mention of aconite, but I’m unsure.

Then he’s using a curry spoon and emphasizing the type of salt he needs to use, and suddenly I wonder if he’s cooking instead.

Then he’s in a cell and I assume he’s a prisoner, and then he’s having some kind of flashback visions so I figure there are dementors or magical mindfuckery going on, then…

Harry turns up. And seems both friendly and the one keeping Snape prisoner.

But then it turns out Snape has his wand, since he conjures a chair. And Harry discusses what to do next with Snape as if Snape isn’t a prisoner but an advisor.

And it turns out that I got most of that right, which is encouraging, but if you choose to post this on ffnet or in WbA I’d consider trying to massage the opening a bit so that it’s less frustrating for readers trying to figure out the context.

“Snake’s skin” could be more specific, given this is Snape we’re talking about. Boomslang skin or Runespoor or Ashwinder, maybe?

What is Snape’s goal here? He isn’t likely to give two shits about Teddy and repeatedly says he’s doing what he’s told to do by Harry. So why is he playing the mentor here? Why not just work on the potions and otherwise tell Harry about progress but otherwise to fuck off? Why teach him about Alchemy? Is he bored? Is he hoping to be released after he finds a solution? Something else? He acts gently towards Harry (the hand on the shoulder) but… I’m missing context here, without knowing how he came to be Potter’s prisoner specifically and what he wants, I feel like I can’t get the pieces to fit in my head.

Good story, and includes a mentor in the form of Snape, but I feel like I’m missing too much context to get Snape’s characterization to make sense.