Chapter 5

"Changes"

It had never happened before. In his seventy plus years a potions master, it had never happened even once.

He'd forgotten what ingredient came next. The old man stared into the cauldron and tried as hard as he could to remember, but the information simply wouldn't come. The timing was ruined, and Winston resignedly turned off the fire underneath the cauldron. The potion turned from a foamy blue to a foul smelling brown.

Winston sat down tiredly, simply staring at the cauldron in quiet contemplation.

Suddenly, a large, black bird tapped on the window insistently and interrupted his trance. Assuming it was a letter from one of his dear friends (he so enjoyed getting letters!), he quickly went to the window and retrieved the scroll. He could use something to cheer himself up.

Dear Mr. Churchill,

Upon seeing an article in the Daily Prophet about the newly hired potions master for St. Mungos, I was reminded of you so strongly that I was sure it had to be you. I realized I hadn't written to you when my mother, Mrs. Anna Snape, passed away.

Winston sighed heavily at that. Pretty Anna had been such a sweet lady. When Severus had been younger, ten or twelve, she'd brought him regularly to his home for tutoring. She'd raised the boy well, if Winston remembered correctly. He was always curious and polite – completely enthralled by anything having to do with potions. The craft had excited him in a way that made Winston smile to think back on it. The boy's eyes, so much like his mother's, would light up and his streak of melancholy would vanish. His mother had been a devoted customer of his for years, even before he'd officially opened a shop.

I thought you might be interested to know that I achieved my mastery in potions and am currently teaching at Hogwarts. I wish I could say I enjoy teaching, but I'm afraid that isn't the case. Circumstances required me to remain at the school, but now I am no longer tied here. I've received an offer to work with the Ministry, but I do not know if I will accept. My employer has asked me as a personal favor to remain teaching here for another year, but beyond that my future is uncertain. The notion to open my own apothecary, one not so dissimilar to the shop I remember you owning as a child, occurred to me, but I know nothing about running a business and so I'm afraid my childhood dream is slightly impractical.

I have paid special attention to your work with medicinal potions, not just most recently concerning the work you're doing for St. Mungos (I assume it is you supplying the hospital), but most notably, your line of muscular regenerating potions you patented a few years ago. I would have written you then, but my life was a bit hectic at the time, to say the least.

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have never forgotten the encouragement you gave me when I was a boy. I'm sorry to bring you the news of my mother's passing if you had not been aware, but I know for a fact she was happy before she died, even though it was at such a young age.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

The news about Anna was distressing, but he was glad to hear from young Severus. In fact, he would write to him immediately. Winston looked again, this time speculatively, at the ruined potion and then at the letter in his hand. Already, a plan was beginning to form in his mind.

A year had passed. Harry had become good friends with most of the elderly witches and wizards that came to the shop, and knew all their oddities and quirks. For example, Mr. Penbrooke wanted his change entirely in knuts. Mrs. Weatherbottom never ordered potions for herself, but rather for her seventeen cats. Ms. Lackerly had five sons, fifteen grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren, and none of them ever came to visit her, though they frequently wrote. Harry knew the names of all her relatives, and was kind enough to let the lonely woman tell him all about them, even if it meant listening to her talk for hours.

His mood had lightened considerably. He was no longer so depressed, but he remained reclusive in his apartment. Winston had spoken with him several times about making a potion that would restore his ability to walk, if only for a few steps at a time, but Harry wasn't putting too much hope in it. He was content as he was. His life was simple, decidedly unexciting, and blissfully predictable.

That is, until Severus Snape showed up in the shop one day around lunch time.

It was one of the days Harry didn't have to be at the shop, but he was there anyway because he didn't like sitting in his dump of an apartment being tempted by the booze in the fridge, and he enjoyed talking with Winston. He was fetching something in the back hen he heard the unforgettable voice.

It would be an understatement to say he never wanted to see Severus Snape again. For one thing, no one in the wizarding world had seen hide nor hair of him since the downfall of Voldemort. The public knew he'd spent a great deal of time in St. Mungos, but beyond that, they knew nothing of his condition or whereabouts. They certainly didn't know he was magically and physically handicapped.

Harry knew Dumbledore might have informed Snape on his condition, but he might have actually respected Harry's request that he stay tight lipped. Either way, whether Snape knew how pathetic he'd become or not, he didn't want the older man to see him.

The ingredient he'd fetched forgotten, he quickly wheeled himself out the back exit into the narrow alley behind the shop, leaving the door open so that he could catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

"My, Severus, how you've grown! It is a shock, I must admit, when in my head I still think of you as a boy of twelve!" Winston's voice, loud and clear, was easily heard. Snape's reply, much deeper and softer, was not so distinct. He said something about the shop, and then commented on the location.

"Yes, the shop is by invitation only at present. I set up the shop with the aim of supplying my friends with potions, and I've found no reason to change. I did wish to spend more time experimenting as of late, so I hired the young assistant I told you about a year or so ago. Gary is a delightful lad. He's here, or he was. He probably left through the back to go get some lunch."

Harry didn't catch any of Snape's reply.

"I told you there would be no reason to worry on that account. Gary keeps the books and handles the customers. He's quite capable of running the business side of things. Mr. Pudgy – he's my partner, you know – has taught him well. Mr. Pudgy keeps inventory and keeps the place clean. Both of them are gone it seems. Ah, well, I'm sure you'll meet them eventually."

Not if Harry had anything to say about it. Snape spoke for awhile, and the two of them went upstairs – the one part of the shop Harry had never been. That was where Winston's potions lab and his living quarters were. Of course, Harry probably would have visited, except he was in a wheelchair and stairs were rather difficult to navigate. Winston had never offered to levitate him, or something equally embarrassing, and Harry was grateful.

Mr. Pudgy meowed questioningly, just waking up from his nap.

"Snape's out there. He was…an old teacher of mine. He hated me – treated me like crap."

Mr. Pudgy, who had formed a very close friendship with Harry, looked offended on his behalf. He settled down in Harry's lap once again and purred contentedly, saying in his own strange way, 'Who could hate you when you have a lap so exquisitely warm and comfortable?'

"Snape didn't spend much of his time in my lap, Mr. Pudgy," Harry pointed out reasonably, wondering if it was safe to go back inside. Mr. Pudgy decided to venture out and get a look for himself. Winston was nowhere to be seen, presumably still upstairs, and the tall, sour looking man was quickly walking towards the door. Mr. Pudgy expectantly darted into his path, expecting to be petted, but was profoundly shocked when the stranger had the audacity to kick him out of the way. Mind you, it wasn't a hard kick, but it certainly wasn't a pet on the head!

Harry heard the front door close, and assumed the coast was clear.

Cautiously, he wheeled back into the main part of the store. Winston, who had returned, looked up at him, smiling broadly.

"Well, it's all been settled. Tomorrow I retire!"

A loud mew and a startled, "What!" from Harry caused Winston to raise his eyebrows almost comically in surprise.

"Just what I said. I'm retiring to Bermuda. I take the early morning floo."

Mr. Pudgy meowed plaintively, in an injured kind of way.

"Nonsense, Mr. Pudgy, you're far too young to retire. You and Gary are to stay here and help my successor with the shop. He has big plans to expand it. I wrote in the contract that he would have to keep you both on for six months time, during which time I'm sure he'll realize what valuable employees you both are, so no need to worry for your jobs."

Harry was too shocked to reply. Mr. Pudgy yowled quite angrily.

"Mr. Pudgy! That's quite uncalled for! I'm afraid my bags are already packed and I'm decided on the matter. I'm going to spend my 130th birthday on a sunny beach wearing tacky shorts. You two shall remain here and make sure Severus is successful. Owning his own shop was his dream as a boy, and he seems so dispirited now, that I insist you help him be a huge success."

Mr. Pudgy angrily stomped the ground with a fat, furry paw.

"Why on earth would Severus have kicked you? It must have been an accident. I'm sure he was properly contrite."

Mr. Pudgy was about to reply that, no, he had not been contrite at all, but Winston was already walking away – no doubt to finish his packing.

"I don't want to have to quit. I like it here," Harry finally said quietly. Mr. Pudgy, who was a great deal more perceptive than Winston, hopped into Harry's lap and comfortingly nuzzled him.

'You can't quit and leave me all alone with that abusive curmudgeon, Harry! What if he doesn't feed me? Or change my litter box? Who will be here to pat my back when I have hairballs? You simply can't leave. We must stick together. Let him do his worse – we'll show him this place is nothing without us!'

Despondently, Harry gently removed Mr. Pudgy from his lap and set him on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pudgy, I just can't work with him. If he treats you poorly, you can come live with me. I'll take care of you."

Mr. Pudgy could do nothing but watch sadly as Harry wheeled out of the shop, possibly for the last time.

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying it. Well, now Snape's gone and offended Mr. Pudgy. He's doomed.