POTIONS
The funny thing was that after four years in the wizarding world, Harry James Potter didn't see what came next until it was right on top of him.
He was used to things happening with a bang, or a crash. Like back before even first year, when Hagrid had literally smashed down the door to get to him. There was the loud shattering of porcelain and wood that signalled his best friendship with Hermione, when the troll he'd locked in with her tried to smush her. There was even the loud rumbling of the footsteps of the entire school when Harry and co had discovered Mrs Norris petrified.
He wasn't going to mention the loud thud of Cedric's body hitting the ground, or the explosions that followed when Voldemort tried to kill him (again). He'd been seeing those two events happening in his nightmares every night so he really didn't need to be reminded.
But still, Harry's point stood. In the wizarding world things happened with a bang, so he could be forgiven if he missed what only made a whisper before striking.
Well, maybe it wasn't a whisper. More like... a knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three knocks, to be specific.
Eyeing the door cautiously, Harry slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, moving the book from his chest and shoving it under his pillow just in case. Who in Merlin's name could that be? His relatives? Yeah right, they never knocked, they normally just burst into his room whenever they pleased. Besides, Vernon and Dudley weren't even home, being either at work or practicing crime respectfully.
Oh! It might be Remus. The werewolf had promised to drop in the next time he was in the area on the 'super secret Harry Potter guard duty' that was 'super secret' and Harry wasn't supposed to know about.
Opening the door, Harry found his face falling upon seeing that it wasn't Professor Lupin, instead finding himself face-to-face with his Aunt. "Since when do you knock?" he asked in way of greeting, suspiciously taking in the way Petunia was fidgeting and wishing she could be anywhere else.
"I knock because the last time I went wherever I wanted in my own home I interrupted someone in the midst of doing... that," Petunia shot back, both blushing and going pale at the same time.
Harry could only blink, "Doing what?" he questioned as he strained to remember the last time he'd performed magic. It'd been on the Hogwarts Express, when he'd cast a lightening charm on his trunk. He definitely hadn't done anything magical when his 'family' were home. "I can't use mag- that outside of school remember?"
"What all you teenage boys do," Petunia sniffed, definitely going pale this time. "And it wasn't talking about you," she added, eyes darting left towards the closed door to his cousin's roo- OH...
"What do you want?" he demanded gruffly, "Or are you just trying to make me sick?"
Petunia glared. "You do... potions... at that school of yours don't you?" she asked stiffly, looking like she'd rather barge into Dudley's room when he was 'petting the Hippogriff' than stay here talking to him.
"I do".
"And do you have to buy your own... ingredients?" Petunia pressed, suddenly sounding nervous. "Ones like... nightshade for example? Or hemlock root?"
Harry just blinked, "Those are both poisonous," he pointed out hesitantly. His Aunt wouldn't try poison him would she? He expected something like that from his Uncle, but Petunia would at least have enough dignity to buy the poison somewhere else right? Instead of using his own poisons against him.
"I know," Petunia ground out, "Do you have any?"
"What I don't, I can owl-order," Harry confessed slowly, leaning against the side of his doorway. "What do you need them for?" he asked curiously.
"Never you mind that," Petunia snapped, back to her old self suddenly. "I can pay you for them, but I need them by the weekend".
"And I can get them for you by the weekend if you tell me what they're for," Harry countered with a snort, "Do you really think I'm going to buy you potions ingredients, poisonous potion ingredients, just because you want them?"
Petunia glared at him once more, her jaw tightening as she looked away. "I had hoped," she admitted slowly, "I'll pay double if you don't ask questions".
"I'll buy them myself if you tell me what you want them for," Harry bartered, "Technically buying potions ingredients for a muggle is illegal, especially since I'm underage. I want proof you're not trying to screw me over," he insisted as Petunia opened her mouth to argue, "Funnily enough I don't actually care about why you want them".
He probably should be more concerned about it, but his gut told him that his Aunt wasn't going to poison him with them. And if he wasn't going to get poisoned, he didn't really see any reason not to buy the ingredients for her, as a muggle it wasn't like she'd be able to brew potions with them anyway. Nightshade and hemlock root weren't exactly things you'd make herbal tea out of either, not unless you were actually trying to murder someone.
"Unless of course you're going to try to kill someone," he added suddenly, that thought ringing a bell in his head.
With a slow sigh, Petunia shook her head simply, gesturing for him to follow her down the hallway and into the master bedroom. "I'm not going to try kill you, or anyone," she promised coldly, "They're for Dudley and I".
"Killing yourself counts as murder," Harry deadpanned, "In the wizarding world at least".
"It's not for killing anyone," Petunia repeated with a scowl, "Now are you coming in or not?"
Biting back the urge to let out a sigh of his own, Harry cautiously entered the master bedroom, watching as his Aunt opened the trapdoor into the attic and pulled down a ladder. "I'm not allowed in the attic," he pointed out slowly, "You've made me clean in here a couple of times, but I'm not allowed in the attic on pain of death, remember?"
The angry flush on his Aunt's cheeks implied that she did remember outright threatening to drown him in the kitchen sink should he ever ask about the attic again. "Times change," she growled, "You must swear to never tell anyone about this," she ordered. "Not any of your freaky little friends, not your freaky little Ministry. And especially not Vernon or Dudley".
"Well I think Dudley deserves to know if you're going to poison him".
"I AM NOT GOING TO POISON HIM!" Petunia roared, making Harry flinch back in shock as she cleared her throat. "Now get upstairs," she spat, turning and climbing up the ladder with a final glare in his direction.
Palming his wand before following her up, Harry squinted around the dark attic as a small light flared from where he could see Petunia's shadow. "I can see why I'm not allowed up here," he drawled sarcastically, "So many of your dirty little secrets I might tell 'my kind' about".
His Aunt pushing past him with a weak lantern in her hands, Harry kept looking around curiously for the real reason he wasn't allowed up there, letting his Aunt continue going around switching on the battery powered lights set up around the room. Seriously though, what was so special about this place? Both he and his Aunt were hunched over to avoid hitting their heads on the roof, the room itself was only a little bigger than his bedroom in terms of length not width, and there was no natural light at all.
"It only lasts three hundred days," Aunt Petunia said suddenly, making Harry glance over to where she was opening one of two large black safes. "Meaning ever three hundred days I need to remake it and drink it. Dudley however has to drink it every one hundred and fifty days, since he only has half of my DNA".
"My condolences," Harry muttered under his breath, smiling innocently as his Aunt turned to glare at him with a thin black book in her arms. "What's that?"
"A recipe book," his Aunt claimed simply, moving past him to set it down on the table opposite the safes.
"Right. Because the Evans family brownies are never the same without nightshade and hemlock root to give them their minty aftertaste," Harry agreed casually.
"When did you become so sarcastic?" Petunia asked distastefully, eyeing him like he was a total stranger.
"It's a Potter thing, apparently. My godfather tells me that my Dad was quite the sarcastic prat," Harry explained with a grin, ignoring the flicker of 'weird' in his chest at sharing that with Petunia of all people. "He said my father would be ashamed of me if I kept biting my tongue, that he would want me to use all my 'gifts' to their full capabilities".
Petunia just stared at him, a look crossed between horror and confusion trapped on her face. "I don't like it," she said finally, scrunching her nose up and turning back to her book. "This is why I want the nightshade and hemlock root," she declared, jabbing her finger down at a page. "You can look, just don't touch," she allowed as he began moving closer.
"Sight Blinding Potion," Harry read aloud dumbly, slowly turning to stare at his Aunt who was firmly refusing to meet his eyes. "You're a witch too," he realised slowly, "You and Dudley? But no... how is that possible?" he demanded angrily, the lanterns around the room flickering as his magic started bubbling in his chest.
"I am not a witch," Petunia spat, her face twisting in fury as her hand rose, the woman clearly restraining herself from slapping him. "And neither is Dudley. You're the only freak in this house".
"Says the woman with a book full of potion recipes!" Harry shot back, "You do realise that if you tried to make a potion and drank it then you'd die right?" he pressed making his Aunt flinch. "You're a muggle! You don't have the magic to make them work; it'd just be a glass full of nightshade and hemlock root!"
"ENOUGH!" Petunia snarled, slapping her hand down on the table. "I am not a witch, nor is Dudley a- a wizard! We may be cursed with magic, but that doesn't make us anything like you!"
Harry couldn't reply, being frozen in place and watching his Aunt in a mixture of shock and anger. "You... you have magic," he exhaled slowly, the lights beginning to waver again as his own magic surged up again, "You're a witch too, and you treat me like shit because of it?" He must have been angrier than he's even been, because instead of shouting like he thought he would be, the rage that was filling him was cold and calm.
"Oh, if only I was a witch," Petunia sneered, backing away from Harry and crossing her arms. "Although, I'd rather be a squid".
"Squib," Harry corrected on automatic.
"Whatever. My perfect sister was a witch," Petunia dismissed, "The first in the family, our parents were so proud. Their youngest daughter; a witch in a family of Clairvoyant".
At his Aunt's announcement, Harry was torn between awe and pity. Clairvoyant were a people of their own, ones outside the control of the Ministry of Magic (despite their numerous attempts at it). They were also a race of drunken lunatics to the intensity of the visions that plagued them daily.
"How do you survive?" he blurted, "I've never seen you even pick up a bottle of alcohol, you make Vernon get his own".
"I survive because I take that potion," Petunia confessed, looking slightly mollified by the shocked awe in his voice. "It blinds my inner eye. And it blinds Dudley's inner eye, not that he knows he even possesses one," she explained tightly, "Clairvoyant have just enough innate magic to be able to brew potions, although I was planning on hiring someone to brew a true sight stripping potion to remove Dudley's gift permanently before his sixteenth birthday like my parents refused to do for me".
"But how? There's no such thing as a 'Sight Blinding potion'," Harry pointed out curiously, "Otherwise Clairvoyant everywhere would be using it. The best they can manage is a twenty-four hour numbing potion, even then it doesn't stop the visions properly and just blurs them".
"It's a family potion, one that's been passed down the family for as long as our family have been Clairvoyant," Petunia admitted, "It lasts for three hundred days, and on the three hundred and first day I'll slip into a coma as I suffer vision after vision until I make up for everyone missed while on the potion".
"And you're willing to risk that?" he blurted.
"What other choice do I have?" Petunia asked simply, face sorrowful as she stared past him at the recipe book.
Following her eyes, Harry glanced over the ingredient list before nodding. "I can get you these by the end of the week," he promised slowly, "And I think... I think I might be able to brew it for you if you want".
POTIONS
So oh my god! This is my ninetieth chapter for my Lost Files, meaning I have just TEN CHAPTERS TO GO before I reach 100!