Chapter 7 – Magic versus the Supernatural:
It hadn't exactly been smooth sailing, but Severus had accomplished what he'd set out to do; which is to say that, after reaching Jackson, he managed to figure out where Potter – or at least, Potter's demonic acquaintance – was.
Getting there was fine.
It was after that that things started getting complicated.
Apparation had the unfortunate tendency to be loudest when you wished for silence, and silent when you didn't need to worry about making noise. There were many factors involved in how silently one could apparate at any given moment, but right now Severus was blaming stress for the ruckus their group made upon arrival.
He himself was certainly stressed.
Although all eyes had turned their way immediately, it was plain to see that they had interrupted some sort of showdown. A group of five men stood together to Severus' left, a small crowd of people stood to his right, and they were facing each other from opposite ends of a… parking lot? Building site? Demolition zone?
Severus shook that thought away. Where they were was irrelevant.
One man stood out, standing at the forefront of the crowd – dark skin, dressed in a suit, visibly annoyed (though whether at their arrival or due to whatever they had interrupted it was unclear). He was obviously not Potter, nor was he the demon. Still, there was something about him that made Severus wary of turning his back on him.
He noted all of these things in rapid succession, Severus' current 'allies' still getting over their own momentary surprise at the scene they'd stumbled into. But that blessed silence did not last.
From afar, he heard a man cursing in surprise.
At his side, he saw Lupin's brow furrow, his nose twitch. "Sulphur again," the werewolf muttered. "They don't smell… right."
Severus had no idea what a person was supposed to smell like, but as much distaste as he held for Lupin in general, his senses were impeccable. Also, in this case he wasn't really surprised. He could feel that dark energy he'd become so accustomed to leaking from one of the men off to the left, but if he allowed his senses to wander towards the unknown crowd it felt as though he were drowning, suffocating on the overwhelming presence of it all. With that much energy in the air it would not be outside the realm of possibility for someone with appropriately strong olfactory senses to perceive it through scent.
He could not see Nymphadora, but he could hear her shuffling behind him, no doubt dropping into one of the battle stances the Auror Department had drilled into her. Useless. There would be no spell-slinging here - unless she wanted to get them all arrested of course - and he highly doubted she was any good at hand-to-hand combat. Severus wasn't any good at it himself, either, but he at least didn't have any intention of diving into a fight.
The dark skinned man stared at them with no small amount of disgust for what felt like an incredibly long time, but was probably thirty seconds at most. Then he returned his attention to the men across from him.
"More filth," he spat. "Ruining the mood. But we have time yet. Next we meet, Dean Winchester, you will breathe your last."
After that incredibly ominous statement he simply… vanished.
Severus frowned. Was he a wizard? What did he want?
oOoOo
Uriel being a petty little drama queen was far from the outcome Harry had been expecting, but anything that involved Uriel being somewhere that wasn't here when yet another new spanner had been tossed into the works was fine with him. That still left his little demon army though, who were…
Self-destructing?
Uriel ditching the scene without leaving any commands seemed to really mess them up. Maybe it was because without Uriel to back them up they were scared of Castiel and Crowley? It was impossible to know without asking one of them and they wouldn't be keen to share. They kept sharing nervous looks and shifting from foot to foot until suddenly they decided to flee the scene, trails of black demonic vapour disappearing into the sky as they abandoned the vessels they must have picked up at random for this meeting.
The slightly hysterical voice in the back of Harry's mind, which had really perked up when he saw Albus freaking Dumbledore show up out of nowhere, wondered how their new uninvited guests were feeling about seeing twenty-something people randomly pass out and collapse in-sync.
Thankfully Sam was in a better head-space than he was, because he turned to Castiel and asked "Are they okay?"
Castiel turned his gaze towards the group and stared at them for a handful of moments, using whatever angelic skill apparently allowed him to read life signs from a distance. "None of them are deceased," he reported.
"Okay, good, good, that's good."
Behind them Dean was shouting obscenities at the sky, trying to goad Uriel into coming back so he could shoot him in the face no doubt.
Harry would really like to get in on one of those conversations, truly, but unfortunately the shock had worn off and their unexpected interlopers were approaching. He took a deep breath, straightened up, and hoped he didn't look quite as confused as he felt.
"Harry, my dear boy," called the man who could never have been anyone other than Albus Dumbledore, approaching with arms outstretched in welcome which felt strangely at odds with the situation which immediately preceded him. "We've finally found you!"
A simple hello would have been less unnerving. What did he even mean?
Harry took a not-particularly-subtle step towards the nearest person, which just so happened to be Crowley. The demon took it as an invitation to insert himself into whatever was about to happen, which, well, wasn't entirely unwelcome.
"Ah," he said after silently studying them a moment. "I know why this one's here, at least." Crowley pointed at Snape, whose dark eyes flicked between them with silent understanding.
"Yeah, no kidding," Harry mumbled in return, watching Dumbledore's benign and welcoming expression turn somewhat forced when he didn't immediately return his greeting.
While he hadn't necessarily expected to ever see Snape again, he was the only person in this little group Harry had made any sort of contact with since leaving Grimmauld Place for the final time. There was only one reason he would come all this way; the question was why the entourage?
"We were ever so worried when you disappeared," Dumbledore continued, forcing their attention back to him. He looked old, Harry realised, older than he remembered. More tired, perhaps. Then again, it had been a long time since he last saw him, not to mention that sometimes Dumbledore seemed as old as time itself. "You really never should have left England my boy, that was a very dangerous thing to do."
Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Dangerous? How, exactly? England was a dangerous place to be, with Voldemort running around trying to off me every year. But I did what you all kept saying I needed to do. Voldemort's long dead. Why should what I make of my life be of any concern to you at this point?"
A presence at his back had Harry glancing over his shoulder to see that the others had closed ranks behind him, turning this into their second stand-off of the day, albeit with much greater odds. In contrast, Dumbledore's little escort seemed fractured.
Snape, after identifying Harry and Crowley, had shifted pointedly off to the side, clearly distancing himself from whatever he believed was about to go down. A woman Harry was about 97% sure was Hermione - and oh, wasn't that a real blast from the past - followed his lead. Professor Lupin - Professor freaking Lupin, what even was today - stood near Dumbledore, but was watching the old man with a wary gaze, like he was on the lookout for something.
That left two women, one whom Harry was certain he'd never seen before in his life, who stood just behind and to the side of Dumbledore with a politely confused expression, and a younger woman with bright hair who might've been… oh, what was her name again? Tonks. She had put her wand away at least.
Of all of them, only Dumbledore seemed perturbed to hear Voldemort's name, a strange reversal of how things used to be. So much so, in fact, that it set Harry on edge, warning bells blaring in his head.
"I understand things must be confusing for you, but we shouldn't speak of it out in the open like this." Dumbledore held his hand out towards Harry, as if expecting him to take it. "Come back to England with us and we can work through it all together."
Taking half a step back in response, pressed firmly against Sam's unyielding frame, Harry frowned. No matter how much he thought about it, it felt as if the two of them were on fundamentally different wavelengths about something.
"With all due respect, sir, I live here. It's not like I was abducted. The only thing confusing me right now is you, and why you think I should obediently follow you across the ocean at the drop of a hat."
"Harry please. It's imperative that you return with us. Dark and dangerous things are afoot-"
"Even more reason to stay right here!" Harry interjected, not budging an inch. "I've done my duty. Once was enough for me, you can find someone back in England to take care of whatever new villain might've shown up."
Something dark and impatient flashed through Dumbledore's eyes for a fraction of a second. Lupin and Snape glanced at each other.
"Nymphadora, kindly take care of Ms Jones."
Tonks nodded, moving towards the stranger as Lupin strode forward, latching onto Dumbledore's arm and forcefully apparating away with the loudest bang Harry had ever heard. Tonks' departure was much tamer.
Harry stared into the empty space which had previously held four people and asked, somewhat helplessly, "What the actual fuck just happened?"
"If you ask me you were about to get kidnapped."
Harry smacked his demonic companion in the side. "Yes, okay, thank you, that's not what I meant and you know it."
Snape sighed. "As loathe as I am to admit it, this is somewhat my fault. I'll explain the best I can, but staying here is a bad idea. Is there somewhere we can relocate to?"
"Should we go back home?" Sam suggested. "I was going to suggest we leave an anonymous tip so someone would come check on those guys," he gestured towards the sprawl of unconscious people, "but that was seriously noisy. Someone's bound to come investigate, and we shouldn't be here when they do."
"Agreed. No point getting on the police's radar in our home turf."
That was great and all but… Even if five people could fit in the Impala - preferably only for short distances - Harry's mind shuddered even just imagining being crammed in there with Snape of all people.
He turned to their supernatural tag-alongs.
"Crowley?"
"I'll meet you there luv. I feel like you lot owe me an interesting story or two and I'm not about to miss whatever this is." He vanished after saying his piece.
"Castiel, do you think you could take him," here Harry pointed at Snape, because Castiel wouldn't recognise the name even if he said it, "to the house and wait there for us?"
And because Castiel was being oddly obedient today he put a hand on Snape's shoulder and disappeared without comment, not even giving Snape the chance to begin to protest the motion.
That left four people, a much less painful amount to fit into the car, but Harry wasn't certain he wanted to leave Snape unsupervised in his house for long, especially with Crowley around.
"Um." He looked between the brothers and Hermione. "You guys should head out. Hermione, do you-" The rest of his question was cut off by a mouthful of hair as Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a crushing hug. He hugged back reflexively but she didn't linger, pulling back after a moment with a mumbled apology.
"Sorry, you were saying something. I just… Merlin, it's really you."
Hermione had been so stern-faced and silent up till now that Harry almost hadn't expected to be acknowledged at all, but in the face of her shaky grin he couldn't fathom how he'd ever thought she'd give him the cold-shoulder after coming all this way.
"Yeah, it's really me." There were more pressing issues at hand than basking in an unexpected reunion, however. "We need to go though. Do you want to hitch a ride in the car, or should I take you with me?"
Hermione glanced over at the Winchesters - Dean already in the front seat, Sam watching patiently as they talked - then levelled a teasing grin at him.
"I think you need adult supervision if you're going to be spending any time with Professor Snape. I'll go with you."
Rude, but… not entirely undeserved, historically speaking.
"Fine." He waved Sam off then linked their arms together. "This'll probably feel a bit different to your normal apparation - never exactly learned the proper way to do it anyway - so just, take a deep breath and don't let go."
oOoOo
Not even five minutes had passed since Snape was angel-napped, but he already seemed more irritable than before.
"Where are the others?" he asked as Harry and Hermione disentangled themselves.
"Driving. They'll be here in fifteen minutes or so."
"Surely one of your… acquaintances could bring them here?"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So impatient.
"Even if Castiel went back for them there's no way Dean would leave his car partway across town without a damn good reason. This conversation? Not a good enough reason."
Snape's eye twitched. "They're both muggles then?"
"Correct."
"And these two?"
Seemed like it was time for introductions then.
"Crowley and Castiel. Crowley is a demon." Hermione turned to him with wide eyes, but Snape didn't so much as blink at the revelation; he'd already surmised as much. "Castiel is an angel."
That bombshell earned him a surprise widening of the eyes. Hermione looked incredulous.
"Angels and demons are real?!" Hermione exclaimed, intellectual curiosity already warring with the surprise in her tone. Bless her for believing him without putting up a fight.
"Angels are still a relatively new thing for us too, but yeah, welcome to my life I guess." Harry threw himself onto one of the armchairs and gestured towards the couch in silent offer. Hermione sat. Snape did not. "Okay. That aside, we're in private now. Do you feel like explaining the whole Dumbledore thing now?"
"Should we not wait until the others arrive? I don't wish to repeat myself."
"It's fine, I'll give them a run-down on the important bits later."
Snape still seemed like he wanted to protest, but the desire to move things along as quickly as possible won over.
"Fine. As I said before, this whole ordeal originated with a personal misstep. When I received your missive I wished to confirm my suspicion about your identity by allowing Albus to see the crest you sealed it with. I realised immediately that it was a mistake to do so, but it was too late to take it back, and no matter how much his mind may distort itself with age his defences are far too strong for me to attempt to erase the incident from his mind."
So Dumbledore knew he'd been in contact with Snape. Surely that was fairly innocuous though?
"What do you mean by distorted?"
Snape's already sour expression twisted further at the question. Hermione tapped his wrist and interjected her own thoughts.
"When you didn't return for seventh year either, and when news of Voldemort's death began to spread, the Headmaster came to Ron and I over and over again asking if we'd heard any news, if we had any idea where you might be. The first couple of times felt genuine enough, worried about your safety. But the more time passed the harder he pushed, like he thought we were purposely hiding things from him. Even if I had known anything, at that point I would've kept it to myself. He just seemed so frantic, and I could never put my finger on why."
"I do believe, Ms Granger, that Albus' paranoia stems from his own bad habit of keeping important information to himself and assuming that no one else could possibly come to know of it on their own. He has been like that as long as I've known him, and has only grown worse as his age finally started to catch up with him."
"Paranoid?" Harry muttered to himself. That didn't really fit the image of Dumbledore that he remembered from school, although being secretive and cryptic certainly fit the bill. "Why was he paranoid about me?"
"Because he knew things about the Dark Lord that he did not share with you, and therefore assumes that you still remain unaware of to this day."
Harry frowned, rolling that thought around in his mind, before sitting up straight. "Wait, is this about those soul pieces?"
"His horcruxes, yes."
"Ugh, disgusting," Hermione grumbled. "No wonder he didn't die all the way when you were a baby."
Ignoring her, Snape continued. "Although he hasn't said as much, this knowledge, the fact that to this day he refuses to let me leave my teaching position, and this frenetic energy he has put into this attempt at persuading you to return all leads me to believe that Albus is still in denial over the Dark Lord's death."
From the kitchen Crowley started laughing. "That's an easy fix then isn't it! Just say the word and I can take him on a lovely trip to see old Patchwork Tommy in all his miserable glory, problem solved."
Harry considered how frail and simply old Dumbledore seemed to him now. "Please don't. He might drop dead from the shock."
"A last resort then," Crowley concluded, tipping his glass of whiskey at him.
"Wait, how can you see him if he's really genuinely dead?" Hermione asked, looking between them in confusion.
"Some people sell their souls to get their ticket to Hell. Others are simply too vile for Heaven. I'm sure you can guess why Tommy-boy might be living it up down there."
With every strange nickname Crowley gave Voldemort Snape grew a tiny bit paler, subconsciously expecting a backlash were Voldemort ever to hear of them.
Harry cleared his throat pointedly. They didn't need to get into a discussion about Hell right now. Crowley shrugged, unapologetic and unrepentant.
"I think I understand the situation now. Only, is this going to be a thing I need to keep an eye out for?"
The idea of having to be constantly on the lookout for a magical ambush was an unwelcome one.
"It should contain itself. As long as we manage to shepherd him back to England, it should prove very difficult for him to return. The Ministry hasn't been keen to do him many favours these days, and while he thinks himself infallible at times he isn't strong enough to apparate across the ocean."
As long as it remained someone else's problem, Harry was okay with that.
"And if he does come back, my door is always open."
Not reacting to Crowley's antics was the easiest way to get him to lose interest, but biting his tongue was a little difficult. Part of Harry was genuinely concerned Crowley might wander off, grab Dumbledore while no one was looking, and take him for a nice tour Downstairs if Harry didn't try hard enough to dissuade him. Arguing against it, however, was just as likely to make him want to do it even more. Sometimes there was truly no winning.
"Speaking of the Ministry," Snape continued suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. "These muggles of yours. Is it safe to talk in front of them?"
Safe? What did he mean by safe?
Harry stared at him in confusion. Predictably that got him nowhere, so he turned to Hermione.
"The Statute, Harry," she offered.
Oh. Right. The whole reason he had that yelling match with those Aurors back at Bobby's place the other year. Yikes.
(He tried not to think about that too much. He might have been in a bad way that day, but it was still embarrassing to remember.)
"Oh, no, they're fine. I mean they weren't initially, but after I finally decided to actually haul my ass to the Ministry," (to apologise, he did not say, as well as to work on countermeasures) "I learnt some interesting stuff. I don't know how much you know, but America has this real problem with supernatural stuff going on all over the place."
"Like the demons?" Hermione asked, curiosity piqued once again.
"Among other things, yeah. But there's also a bunch of non-magical people who - mostly individually - decided to fight back against them. Maintain a bit of a balance, that sort of thing. These people are known as Hunters, and the Ministry is actually sort of grateful for them in their own way. It means they don't have to expend their own resources resolving matters that get out of hand, which they especially hate doing since the supernatural incidents aren't really related to the magical world in any meaningful way."
"Non-magical supernatural beings? I suppose that makes sense. Lord, this makes me feel so narrow-minded for learning about the existence of magic and then simply assuming that was the end of the story."
Harry smiled a little helplessly as Hermione lamented her supposed downfalls in the pursuit of knowledge. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Snape shift impatiently, 'get to the point' clearly written in his stance.
"The Ministry keeps a record of hunters and has them on a 'Do Not Obliviate Except Under Extreme Circumstances' list. Erasing their memories of magic without damaging their knowledge of the supernatural is a difficult process, and they don't want to cripple the very workforce they're outsourcing problems to. The only problem is that they're kinda lazy, and don't really bother to keep their hunter logs up-to-date. I made sure to update their records for them while I was there, for my own sake."
"So they're hunters," Snape surmised.
"Yup. Also, since the three of us made Jackson our home base the Ministry oh-so-generously decided that anything that happens in the area is our problem, and they won't investigate unless I ask them to. In other words, they saw another opportunity to outsource some more work and jumped on it."
So many unpleasant encounters with the MoM back in England had made Harry seriously reluctant to seek out the ministry in America, especially since he was technically an illegal immigrant, but it had been less painful than he'd imagined, in the end. Sure it wasn't all sunshine and roses, but it had worked out well enough in his favour, and that was all that mattered.
"So yeah. Basically, you don't have to hold your tongue around them."
oOoOo
When Sam and Dean arrived not long after, they joined everyone in the living room.
The discussion about Dumbledore was, well, not entirely unimportant, but definitely not important in the immediate sense. Harry would give the brothers a brief summary later on, but they still needed to discuss their next step in regards to Uriel and his crusade. That meant getting to the bottom of the real reason Snape was here so that he could leave.
"You mentioned my letter, earlier," Harry began. "You're not the sort of person who would come all this way without something to show for it, so…?"
Snape peered down his nose at him, dark gaze inscrutable as always.
"Your manners are as abysmal as ever," Snape critiqued, though without as much bite as there would have been were they still at Hogwarts. "But you are indeed correct." He removed a small padded box from inside his coat and set it upon the coffee table, opening it to reveal two small vials of a strangely shimmering liquid. "Experimental as it was I cannot guarantee it will have the effect you're hoping for, but I've done what I can."
Hermione and Sam both leaned forward to examine the vials, curious. Harry didn't bother.
"Is it safe?"
Snape bristled at the query but didn't snap. "None of the ingredients are harmful to the human body in those amounts. Given the inanimate nature of my testing material, however, I have no data on sensory feedback."
Harry was no potions master, but that made sense. You could make all the educated guesses and assumptions you wanted, but if the purpose was something entirely new then the side-effects might be a little unpredictable.
In all honesty Harry hadn't actually had high hopes about the whole endeavour in the first place, so having the more-or-less finished product in front of him was sort of odd. If the whole apocalypse fiasco wasn't hanging over them he might even have been content not to go through with it; although it still chafed occasionally and often took more energy and effort than Harry believed it needed to, Harry was familiar with the way his magic worked these days. In that quiet period when he and Sam weren't doing much of anything he was content to let it be. Unfortunately that would become a liability again if he actually needed to bring magic into the fight.
"What is this for, exactly?" Hermione asked as she straightened back up. "I can't even begin to guess just from looking at it."
Harry's knee-jerk reaction was to deflect, but there was really no reason to be so evasive about it. Everyone in the room save Hermione herself knew at least some of the surrounding circumstances, even if they didn't know about the potion itself, and there was no way Snape was leaving until some sort of conclusion was reached. He had his pride as a Potions Master, if nothing else.
"Uh, I guess you could sort of call it a detox cleanse? Like those stupid health fads? Except instead of being a diet thing it's supposed to help cleanse my magical core. More or less."
He wilted just a little beneath Hermione's judging gaze, but she didn't pry any further or get annoyed, simply shaking her head in that 'how do you get yourself into these situations?' sort of way she used to at school.
Sam perched himself on the arm of Harry's chair, leaning in to ask in a low voice, "For the demonic residue?"
"Mhm." Harry shifted to meet Sam's gaze. Although it wasn't something they talked about and it had no bearing on their day-to-day life, ever since the 'Psychic Children' incident Sam had undoubtedly been weighed down by the knowledge that a demon had messed around with his body. It didn't appear to have actually done anything to him, aside from perhaps awaken a possibility inside of him, but it was the knowledge that chafed, not the outcome.
Hesitantly Sam leaned even closer, voice even quieter. "Do you think…"
It was a shame they weren't in private. There were plenty of things Harry wanted to say to that, but he wasn't about to go airing out all their personal secrets in front of other people. Dean would be the exception, since he would be equally invested in the situation, but otherwise…
Twisting even further in his seat, Harry lifted his hands to cup Sam's face and gently pressed their foreheads together for a moment, hoping to reassure him without words, since the only answer he had for this roomful of people was "I don't know."
Sam breathed out a sigh against his lips, having expected an answer along those lines, and pulled away from him, straightening up from his hunched-over position.
Harry stared at the box with mild trepidation. "Whatever the case, I'll go first. There's no point in taking extra risks."
"Before you do," Crowley interjected, "I'd like to make sure something's clear. You," he jabbed his glass in Snape's direction. "If this potion of yours kills him, you're dead."
This was not the time to be threatening the potion maker! Harry appreciated the sentiment, really he did, but Snape could still decide to run off with the potions if Crowley pissed him off.
Oddly enough though the dour man didn't react aside from tipping his head in acknowledgement. Somehow it seemed like less of a threat and more of a reminder. Had they already had this discussion before at some point?
"I'm not going to die," Harry said anyway. No one looked like they were in dire need of that reassurance, but he still felt like he should say it to make up for Crowley being ominous. "Might as well get it over with."
Having said his piece, he plucked one of the vials from the padded box and opened it. Harry had learned very quickly, after several trips to the hospital wing, that the best way to ingest potions was to chug them down as quickly as possible so that your body had a minimal amount of time to notice the scent and taste of whatever foul concoction needed drinking that day. Potions might be effective, but god were they disgusting.
Not giving himself the time to second-guess the decision, Harry knocked back the potion in record time before sitting the now-empty vial back on the table with a look of disgust painted across his face. As always, it was impossible to shut your senses off entirely, and his brain itched to try and understand what had just been poured across his taste-buds.
Fortunately - or just as accurately, unfortunately - the potion kicked in right about then, and suddenly his brain had other things to worry about.
It wasn't pain, and it certainly didn't hurt in the normal sense, but as the potion spread through him his nervous system was flooded with sensations that definitely weren't supposed to exist inside of the human body.
Somehow it reminded him of the fizzy tingle he sometimes got in the back of his nose when he took the first sip of a cold, freshly opened soda, the bubbly rush in a place the bubbles shouldn't be, but stronger and racing through his veins - magical veins in this instance, he supposed, whatever shifted his magic throughout his body - with a force that almost felt like he was literally being scrubbed clean from the inside.
He curled in on himself, hugging his torso loosely as he shuddered through the strangeness, waiting for it to wear off.
Voices sounded above his head, but Harry wasn't willing to spare the effort to focus on them. As long as no one started getting violent he could afford to keep his attention solely on breathing in and out and not allowing his muscles to lock up.
It only lasted a handful of minutes at most, which wasn't too bad in the scheme of things. A strong enough dose of Pepper-Up could have you steaming for a good half an hour, not to mention the drawn-out horror of Skel-e-grow. Even just the thought of it made his arm prickle with remembered discomfit.
The first thing he became aware of when he focused his attention outwards again was Sam softly calling his name. He hummed in acknowledgement as he shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders before turning his gaze to him.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, hands raised but hovering hesitantly in the air. "That didn't look… good."
"I'm fine," Harry assured firmly. "It kinda sucked, but that's just the name of the game sometimes."
"I tried to explain that some potions are just like that," Hermione informed him, "but I guess seeing it for the first time is always going to be rough."
Sam frowned mulishly at her, hands clenching in agitation. "What if something was seriously wrong? What if something happened?"
What if it killed him? The thought the brothers hadn't entertained until after seeing the potion at work. That much at least Harry could sympathise with. Fate or God or something did seem to be having fun orchestrating a morbid Life and Death game of tag amongst Sam's loved ones. Harry winding up dead after Dean's resurrection would be par for the course in that sense.
Being mad at Hermione wouldn't help anything though.
Taking Sam's hands in his own Harry gave them a gentle squeeze. "She's right. Plus, Snape would never go out testing his experimental potions without a few antidotes up his sleeves. He would've stepped in if something seemed dangerously amiss."
Even with the distance of so much time between them, it still felt weird to say anything even relatively positive about Snape, especially when the man himself was within earshot, but it remained a fact that Snape took his title of Potions Master very seriously.
"But you looked like you were in pain."
Note to self: never tell Sam about the bone-regrowing incident.
"Listen, magic can be… strangely literal at times. Technically, in a way, this is a cleaning potion. And. Well. I certainly feel thoroughly scrubbed up. Internally. Which is a super weird feeling and not one I'd be in a rush to re-experience, but on the whole it wasn't anything to worry about."
He squeezed Sam's hands once more before letting go, shifting towards Snape.
"Well?"
Snape stared down his nose at him. "I can't be certain of the results - only you will be able to tell if it accomplished what you wanted it to - but it doesn't appear to have had any adverse affects. Any potentially life-threatening reaction would have started by now, so we can rule those out. Any impairments?"
Harry wriggled his toes and flexed his fingers.
"Nope."
"Good." Snape reached into another pocket and extracted a small fabric bag, which he placed next to the box holding the remaining potion dose. "I shall leave this bezoar for you. I'm not interested in whatever else you're plotting, but if something goes amiss with the potion it will help. Don't contact me again unless some side-effect crops up later on."
Like Harry wanted to make a habit of contacting the man. No thanks.
He glanced between Sam and the potion, but decided not to bring it up. They had plenty of time to talk about it later with less witnesses.
"Then for everyone's sake let's hope that doesn't happen."
Snape sniffed irately at Harry's tone but otherwise didn't acknowledge it.
"In that case, I believe it's about time I took my leave. As for Ms Granger…"
"I can point her in the direction of the Ministry later."
Snape leaving was great - truly he was thankful and everything but that didn't mean spending a prolonged amount of time in his presence was suddenly something he welcomed with open arms - but Harry wasn't quite prepared for Hermione to disappear too. He imagined she also had plenty more she'd like to say first.
"Acceptable." Snape swept his dark gaze across the room once more, lingering slightly in the direction of their two non-human house-guests, before disapparating without so much as a by-your-leave.
Dean cursed reflexively - his go-to response for anyone pulling an appearing or disappearing act around him without warning.
Crowley wandered into the doorway from the kitchen, staring into the now-empty space with an odd smirk. "We don't need him anymore, right? Because I feel like he would really benefit from a nice visit with dearest Tommy."
"Please stop making Hell sound like a tourist attraction," Harry muttered exhaustedly. He took a deep breathe in, held it, and slowly exhaled. Then he climbed to his feet. "I need something to drink. Tea anyone?"
There were so many more things they had left to discuss, but he seriously needed a breather.
A/N: Me, belatedly realising that I was basically just using Dumbledore as a plot point to see Hermione again: oh well
There were some other bits that were going to be in this chapter but it would've just kept going forever and ever and I wanted to actually post this so they're in the next chapter instead. Whenever that comes to fruition.
