Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.
Rituals and Consequences
by mmagicwolf and WickerChair
Chapter Fifty-four: Bonds That Free
Monday, June 24, 1991
Snape entered Flourish and Blotts already in a bad mood. The lovely weather had brought out many families to Diagon Alley to renew their wardrobes for the summer. Snape glowered as he passed through the doors of the bookstore and heard the annoyingly cheerful jingle of the bell announcing his entrance. Walking toward the potions section, he saw that, once again, he was going to be introducing potions with Jigger's tome. The book was just fine, he admitted, if the students already knew the basic techniques and vocabulary. Jigger was notorious for providing recipes for an adequate potion but not giving explanations. Snape grumbled under his breath. One of these days he was going to actually get his chance to gain a potions mastery and then he could publish his own textbook for Potions class. Starting students with an overview of the subject, then teaching techniques for ensuring that ingredients were properly prepared would allow them to recognize quality ingredients when available and compensate for lesser quality. He had written the book during his sixth year and attempted to get it published after he took over as Potions Professor, but Dumbledore insisted that Jigger's book was perfectly adequate.
Snape was too grateful to have a job at all after his brief stint as a Death Eater to complain. However, ten years of suffering through students whose potions would have been greatly improved by proper grounding in ingredient preparation had rubbed his nerves raw. Usually, a candidate for mastery in potions would find a mentor who would present the candidate and his work before a group of other masters, but Snape had never had a mentor. Even Slughorn had only recognized his prowess after his fifth year. The Outstanding with honorable mention on his OWLs should have resulted in an apprenticeship, but Voldemort had interfered.
Snape snarled at the mere thought of the name, he had lost everything he cared about because of Voldemort and James Potter. James stole his only friend, and Voldemort stole his future. Dumbledore had done what he could to keep Snape alive, but functioning as a spy among the Death Eaters had not made for an easy existence. Snape shrugged mentally, at least he was allowed to make experimental potions while at Hogwarts. It was the only thing that kept him sane. His work as the Hogwarts Apothecary ensured that he maintained his skills in healing potions, however those were always to be made precisely as the formula required. He was not allowed to use any of his improvements for those, but he made a few potions for Mr Mulpepper with his modifications. Most would refuse to buy them if they knew who had made the potions, but Mr Mulpepper said that he had a supplier who specialized in more effective versions of the common potions if anyone asked.
The sound of a clock striking the hour echoed through Flourish and Blotts and interrupted Snape's musing. Snape's Tempus had him approaching the clerk with the latest edition of International Advances in Potions. Five minutes and three sickles later, he was walking toward The Black Horse on Incident Alley. His years as a spy for both Dumbledore and Voldemort had taught him to look over any location carefully. Knowing where the exits were had saved his life a time or two, and Snape had developed a distinct sense of caution when meeting someone for the first time. This request to make a potion just at the end of the school year was a bonus, but Snape was wary of too convenient events.
~O~
A small sign near the front door of The Black Horse asked the patrons to "Please be courteous. No Apparition or Portkeys outside of designated areas." Discretion was a byword at The Black Horse. During the first fifteen minutes Snape spent at a small tables in the bar area, he saw four members of the Wizengamot and three undersecretaries to the Minister of Magic enter the establishment. Snape alternated between reading and watching the patrons and staff until twenty minutes to eleven.
Snape approached the young witch at the reception area. "Snape, party of two, for eleven o'clock."
"Yes, Mr Snape. The room is prepared. I will send your guest as soon as he," the pronoun had a questioning air, "arrives."
"Thank you," said Snape gravely. "Once he arrives, we will need menus."
"Business or pleasure, sir?" asked the witch.
"We will order from the business menu, please."
"Of course, sir." The witch led the way to a hall lined with doors, she opened the door marked with the number seven and ushered Snape into a small room with a table and two chairs. The room was large enough not to be claustrophobic, yet intimate enough for a romantic dinner. Snape took one of the chairs, set out a small roll of parchment and a self-inking quill on the table, and opened the magazine and began to take notes on a potion that had promise as a palliative to Fairy Flu. Hogwarts with almost three hundred students and staff made outbreaks of Fairy Flu something to be feared. The last outbreak had occurred during Snape's second year of teaching under Professor Slughorn; the uncontrolled magical outbursts had nearly destroyed the hospital wing and the Forbidden Forest had acquired several new denizens that had been sneezed into existence. Fortunately, the largest creature was a vampire bunny which had been killed when it had attacked the centaur herd. Snape shuddered at the thought of having such an outbreak now.
~O~
Some ten minutes later, a discreet knock sounded at the door. The same witch who had led him to the room ushered in a wizard. The wizard had sleek black hair pulled back into a low tail. His eyes were a hazel, clear and warm. Experience had Snape glancing at the man's side to see if he had his wand out, but the man carried a parchment case in one hand and a small wooden box in the other. Snape's fingers twitched at the sight of the box, but stilled immediately as the buttons on either side of the man's robes registered in his consciousness. The winged staff superimposed on the crossed wand and vial indicated a master healer, not someone who would usually need someone else to brew a potion.
"Your menus, sirs," said the witch. "What would you like to drink?"
"Water," replied Snape.
"Hot water, almost boiling please," requested André. "Please bring a mug and the pot."
"Yes, sirs. Jorge will take your order when he comes with drinks. He will knock before entering."
Snape nodded an acknowledgment.
~O~
"Why would a healer of your stature need someone to make a potion?" Snape's brows lowered suspiciously, "Why would you come to me?"
"I am André Durian. If I were in Switzerland, there would be no issue as I have resources there to make the potion, but my client lives here. This potion does not take well to travel by anything but owl, and I need it as soon as possible." André paused, "I do not have contact with many independent potions masters in England, and I would not trust those who work for St Mungo's with a potion this delicate. When I asked for a potions master at the apothecary, Mr Mulpepper said that you are the best in England. I was told that you made this," he held up the vial of strengthening potion he had purchased from Mr Mulpepper. "It is an improvement on the traditional recipe, have you published your findings?"
"I can not publish; I have neither mastery nor mentor."
"Why not?" asked André. "I would think that any master would be delighted to mentor someone who is able to do work of this caliber."
Snape scowled, "Voldemort and the war. Many of the potions masters fled Britain at that time," he took a deep breath, "or died. I asked, but no one was willing to take on someone so young and poorly connected."
"No family support?" André shrugged, "Credentials matter less to me than a well-made potion. I trust Mr Mulpepper's opinion; he said that you have the touch, and I saw this sample of your work."
Snape nodded acknowledgment of the compliment. "What exactly is the potion you wish for me to produce?"
"I need at least four doses of Threpsi, possibly as many as eight. Have you heard of it?"
Snape frowned, "Tell me more of its effects. The list of potions I know is too lengthy otherwise."
"Its effects are similar to a combined nutrient potion and strengthening potion."
Snape reviewed the long list of potions he knew that fit the effects. Almost two minutes later he shook his head, "I can remember no single potion that has that effect. Every instance in which those effects are needed, some combination of two potions should suffice."
"Threpsi does not rely on a healthy magical core. It has been prescribed only in cases of extreme magical exhaustion combined with starvation."
Snape's eyes gleamed greedily, "The recipe!"
