The Turning Clock
By AthenaRhea
Prologue: Enjoy the Silence
0o0o0
Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world
Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Can't you understand
Oh my little girl
Depeche Mode
0o0o0o
Harry climbed up the circular staircase warily; he was rarely invited to the Headmaster's office for tea and cakes. Pausing in thought, Harry shook his head. No, he was invited to the Headmaster's office for tea and cakes, but there was always an ulterior motive behind it.
Before he could knock on the ornate door at the top of the stairs, it swung open of its own accord to reveal the oval room. Sitting behind the desk was Albus Dumbledore, his hands clasped together on the desktop and he was regarding Harry over the top of his half-moon glasses.
Standing just next to the window was Severus Snape, his arms were crossed over the dark material of his work robes, and he barely turned to regard him but Harry knew the man was watching out of the corner of his eye.
Sitting in one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk, was Minerva McGonagall and she was twisted in the chair to look at Harry. Harry was startled to note apprehension in her eyes, her pointed hat was a little askew but he was glad to note that at least her hair was still pulled back into a tight, neat bun.
"Hullo," he greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door. Before anyone could answer, Fawkes trilled a welcome. Smiling slightly and feeling a little better, Harry quickly sat in one of the chairs next to McGonagall. "You wanted to see me Headmaster?" Harry glanced at the other to Professors in a silent question.
The Headmaster nodded. "I did indeed, Harry," he paused, pursing his lips for a moment. "Voldemort is now immortal – " Harry gasped, his hands flying out to grip the arms of the chair as he rose out of his chair.
"He what?"
"Sit down, Potter, and you will find out," Severus snapped from his position by the window. Turning his eyes to the man, Harry was appalled to see how pale and sickly the Professor had become, there were dark lines under his eyes and he looked exhausted.
"Professor - " Professor Snape silenced him with a glare. Swallowing, Harry turned back to the Headmaster. "Sorry,"
"It is quite alright, Harry," Albus acquiesced, "Voldemort has at last become immortal. Professor Snape has discovered a long forgotten potion from the 10th century, but he needs your help to brew it, my boy."
Harry's mouth fell open and he turned to stare at the Potions Master, who had a sour look on his face. "I'm rubbish at Potions!"
"I've aware," he replied caustically, he looked just as repentant about him helping as Harry did. "The Potion needs the Base to be a part of the brewing as it gives the potion an intention. If I brew it myself it would not have any effect on the Dark Lord as he is not my sworn enemy,"
"Who is?" Harry cringed, his mouth was getting ahead of his brain. Severus sent him a pointed look.
"James Potter," his tone was bland, but Harry could see the fire in the black eyes. "Regardless, the Dark Lord is yours and I require your assistance."
"What if I botch it up?" Harry glanced at all of his Professors, worried.
"Harry dear," Professor McGonagall finally spoke, patting his arm. "Unless you've forgotten how to chop, it is not likely you will – botch it up, as it were, with Severus' watchful eye."
"I'm sure you know what a superb Potions Master Professor Snape is," Dumbledore intoned, and Harry didn't note Professor Snape's reaction, but Harry never thought the man liked praise very much. At least not outwardly.
"So…I'd just help prepare and you would brew?" he asked slowly, looking up at the Potions Master.
"Not quite," he said tonelessly. "You must assist in part of the brewing, as I've already noted, but preparing is also a large part of it." Severus glanced down at Harry with an expression so fierce Harry nearly shrunk back into his chair. "You will not botch it up, Potter."
Harry swallowed thickly, giving a jerky nod. Nervousness bundled into his stomach, twisting it into knots. He was horrid at Potions, how was he going to get away with that? This was the defeat of Voldemort they were talking about, not his own measly marks for a bad potion!
Feeling his face drain of blood, Harry fought the urge to moan out loud.
"Are you quite alright, my boy?" Albus asked, looking at him with concern. Harry didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. "Are you willing to help Severus?"
Harry blinked and bit his lip, looking nervously at the Professors gathered in the room. "Yeah," he mumbled, staring at his shoes.
The Headmaster beamed. "Brilliant," he said, sitting back and clapping his hands once. Fawkes turned to give the Headmaster a hard stare for waking him up.
Professor McGonagall turned to regard Harry. "Mr. Potter, I will assist you to the Potions Lab – "
Harry's head snapped up. "The what?"
"Professor Snape's private Potions Lab," Minerva informed before Severus could get a word in.
"Why?"
"Because, Potter, unless you want a volatile potion that takes three months to brew sitting in the middle of a public Potions classroom, then you are far more dense then I was previously aware of." Professor Snape snapped, and Harry glared at him. He wasn't going to make it. First the Occlumency lessons and now brewing a potion, he wasn't sure which was worse – or more costly.
"I will accompany you three times a week, Mr. Potter." McGonagall continued, sending both of them stern looks. "The Headmaster and I have already viewed both your and Professor Snape's schedule and deduced that the weekends and Wednesday afternoons are suitable."
Harry's mouth fell open. "I have to spend my weekend with him?" He jerked his thumb towards the glowering man.
"For the better of wizarding society, yes you do Harry," Albus put in and Harry deflated, when it was phrased like that he felt selfish for even complaining. "Now, I'm sure Professor Snape has many ingredients he needs to fetch – " the Potions Master made a disgusted face at the word 'fetch' and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'Black' to Harry. " – and I need to speak with Minerva in private, so if you will," and he made a small shooing motion with his hands.
Harry shook his head violently. "What about the potion? You haven't even told me what it is!"
"All in due time, Harry," Dumbledore assured, giving him a stern look.
Disgruntled and a little irritated at being dismissed, Harry tried to leave ahead of the Potions Master. His attempt failed spectacularly, as the Potions Master had a much faster and longer gait then he did, and he quickly surpassed Harry on the stairs, not so much as sparing him a glance.
Harry watched after him suspiciously, if he didn't know any better the man was trying just as hard as he was to reach the bottom first. Grumbling at his short legs, Harry trotted down the stairs. He knew he probably looked silly as the staircase was moving anyway, but there wasn't anyone around to see him.
Once he reached the bottom he looked about but the Potions Master wasn't to be seen. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered how the man moved so quickly. Sighing, he turned and trudged towards Gryffindor Tower, glad for once that the Headmasters office was on the top floor.
Harry was still in shock, Snape wanted him to help make a Potion. It was almost as if he'd been stuffed into an alternate universe, where Professor Snape was nice. Only he wasn't he was just as caustic as he ever was. Harry knew that, even though he'd had six and a half years of potions classes, he still only vaguely understood why. Feeling foolish and extremely anxious, he wondered if all eighteen year olds felt that way. He doubted it.
Rubbing his face, Harry trudged up the stairs. Things like this always happened to him, but at least it seemed like there was a definitive way to defeat Voldemort. Shivering suddenly, Harry pulled his school robes tighter around himself. What if he did botch it?
That thought was running through his mind as he stepped into the Gryffindor Common room in a daze, Hermione and Ron both rushed up to meet him.
"Was it about You-Know-Who?" Ron asked, his face a little green. Hermione twisted her hands, and nodded.
"Yeah," Harry replied wearily, giving both of them weak smiled. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow,"
Ron sputtered and Hermione looked even more worried. "But Harry," she complained, reaching out to touch his arm. She perused his face a moment before she nodded reluctantly, apparently seeing something that reassured her that it could wait.
"Hey!" Ron shouted as Harry stepped up to the Boy's Dormitory. Hermione clasped his upper arm and pulled him towards the couch, whispering fiercely in his ear. Harry smiled; he could always count on Hermione.
Slipping into the dorm, Harry face planted on his bed, and before he knew it he was fast asleep, no other thought of potions.
0oo0o0o
The next morning, Harry was appalled to note that he'd slept in his clothes, which were wrinkled beyond any non-magical repair. His mouth feeling like cotton, Harry quickly went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, casting a cleaning and anti-wrinkle charm on his robes.
Glancing at his watch, he groaned. He was late for breakfast! Another quick glance around the dorm showed that all the boys had already left, feeling a tad upset that Ron hadn't thought to wake him, Harry went down to breakfast with a frown.
Halfway there, he stopped abruptly with the memory of what happened the night before in Dumbledore's office. Biting his lip, he strained to remember if he had even asked any relevant questions, and was disgusted to note that he hadn't.
Feeling a bundle of nerves build in his stomach, Harry resumed his trek to the Great Hall, no longer feeling hungry. Just outside the Hall, he was surprised to see Professor Snape standing stoically near the door with a frown on his face.
"Mr. Potter, so good of you to emerge from your hovel," he snapped, and Harry took an involuntary step back. He wasn't supposed to meet Snape earlier, was he? A quick perusal of his memories told he wasn't.
"Err…" Harry mumbled, staring up at the dour Potions Master. His overly large nose twitched once before he thrust out a piece of parchment with lines of spidery script on it. Harry stared at the proffered parchment dumbly for a moment before he hesitantly took it in hand.
"I want all those chapters read before you think of attending to the potion," Professor Snape ordered, pausing to give Harry a stern look before he spun on his heel and stalked down the corridor, his black teaching robes fluttering behind him dramatically.
Glancing at the paper, Harry was shocked by the sheer amount he was supposed to read. A quick thought told him that McGonagall had mentioned Wednesday afternoons as a session, as seeing as it was Tuesday either Harry was going to spend the majority of his free time that day devoted to the library or he was going to look like a wanker and not show until that weekend.
The list said:
Chapter 5, 6, 15, and 35 of Moste Potente Potions by Felix
Gulielmus
Chapter 7, 10, and 11 of Advanced Potion-Making II by Libatius Borge
Chapter 2, 5, 7, and 15 of Poisonous Potions by Ambrosias Emyrs
Chapters 1-10 of Rare and Dangerous Magical Potions and Poisons by Avicia Mycaelis
Below that was a written note from Professor Snape stating that Harry was allowed to access the Restricted Section, as all of the above books were located within.
Making a face, Harry folded the paper and stuffed it into his rucksack. He was definitely not having the best start to his day. Sighing, he pushed open the Great Hall doors, feeling as if he were stepping onto a new continent.
Hermione and Ron spotted him immediately and beamed at him.
"Sorry 'bout this morning, mate," Ron said immediately after Harry sat down, although he didn't look very apologetic.
Harry shrugged, reaching for a croissant and some butter. Hermione fidgeted beside him for a moment, before she leaned over, obviously unable to contain her curiosity anymore.
"So what happened last night?" Harry glanced up at her and bit his lip. The Professors hadn't said anything about keeping it quiet, but Harry had a sinking feeling that he wasn't supposed to let other people know.
"I can't tell you," he sighed, setting down his breakfast at Ron's barely disguised squawk of indignation. Hermione's face fell and she stared at her pumpkin juice. "I'm sorry,"
"Can't tell us?" Ron demanded, a fixed look on his face. "We're your best friends Harry! That's not fair – "
Harry turned at gave him a short look, his lips pursed. "I'm sorry Ron, but I'm not messing about with telling you I can't say. If I do tell you and someone hears us lives – people could die, Ron."
Hermione paled beside him, but Ron didn't look nearly mollified. "So tell us in the Room of Requirement!" he shouted, Harry blinked and half the Gryffindor table was staring at them. Harry glanced up to the Head Table and noticed Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster staring at him, both of them with a serious look on their faces.
Harry sighed. "I can't Ron," Ron's face was pale with anger, but he didn't say anything else.
"Ron, Harry's just – " Hermione started, giving Harry a considerate look.
"Shut up,"
The rest of breakfast was spent in silence.
For the rest of that day the parchment weighed heavily on his mind as he thought more and more about his decision to either study that night or leave it for a more convenient time. Most of his History class, he stared into the far corner.
The pros of studying meant that Snape would have nothing to complain about and it proved that he was completely serious about what they were doing. If he didn't, he doubted he would ever hear the end of it and Snape wouldn't trust him to read what he was supposed to, and he would prove that he didn't think an extra study night was worth defeating Voldemort.
By the end of that class, he had made his decision. As he ate dinner, barely listening to Hermione and Ron having a 'friendly' argument in hushed tones, he contemplated how he would start his reading.
0o0o0o0o
Authors Note: Borge's second book is my 'creation' so to speak but the author and main title still belong to JKR, it does not technically exist but I figured that would be a logical step to make from 6th to 7th year potions. Any information that is quoted in this fic from Borge's second book is also my creation unless stated otherwise. The authors for Poisonous Potions and Moste Pontente Potions are made up by moi.
Rare and Dangerous Magical Potions and Poisons including the author is mine full stop.
Keep in mind that 6th year is an AU in consideration for this fic. Snape did not kill anyone – that we know of – and Albus did not die. The Horcrux's do not exist. Harry is now 18 years old.