Worthy

*~ Disclaimer ~* I do not own any of the characters, language, plots, or locations from Harry Potter.
J. K. Rowling, the writer, holds all rights to Harry Potter and this story is only created for pleasure, not profit.

Summary: Death, battle, pain, facing your fears, saving the world… the Wizarding World expected the Boy-Who-Lived to endure it all. But what if he can’t? Who will be there to save the boy-who-only-wanted-to-be-normal? … Post-HBP, Pre-DH

Author’s Note: This is taking longer than I thought, mostly due to schoolwork. Still trying to complete in November; be around 15 chapters. Thanks for all of your kind reviews, they really warm the heart.


Worthy
Chapter Nine

Snape had insisted that Potter return to the bed, but of course Potter had argued and so the brat just remained on the couch under Snape’s steady glare. Grumbling a little, Snape paced over by the door, looking down the hall for Dot and the other house elves.

He had sent them down to the dungeon to carry up one of his more volatile trunks. No magic could be used on it without severe repercussions to the caster, like being engulfed in flames, literally falling to pieces, or dying. Within it, Snape had many items to be used for as a last resort. This made nearly every item either deadly, dangerous, or wildly immoral. Under normal circumstances, there was no method of testing a potion for every unknown variant without a human volunteer. Many potions masters had a staff of specially trained medics when they went through the testing phase for a new potion. Snape, however, worked with poisons that often killed in seconds. Therefore, he decided that other methods were necessary.

Steady footfalls came around the corner of the hall and Snape watched as Dot and five other house elves carried a large black trunk down to the room. He directed them to place it down next to the table with Potter’s curious gaze following them. As soon as the trunk was secure, Snape impatiently waved off the house elves and got to work opening the locks.

After several minutes passed, Potter’s voice rang out, “How are we going to accurately test the potion without taking it ourselves?”

Snape just grunted, keeping his focus on the locks. Luckily, Potter seemed to get the hint and didn’t say anything else, but Snape could hear the young wizard fidgeting. Grating his teeth, Snape fit the last tumbler into position and lifted the lid.

“High security,” he heard Potter murmur. With a huff, Snape explained.

“Potter, you never saw this. You don’t even know about this. Understood?” He waited for the nod and continued, “I’ve been able to replicate the human response to unknown stimulus. By connecting my senses to the replica, I am able to get an echo of the effects without endangering myself.”

The brat propped himself up on his elbows, despite the quick glare that Snape sent his way. “How do you connect your senses to the replica?”

“With a polyjuice derivative,” was Snape’s short reply.

“But wouldn’t you have to…?” Potter trailed off, eyes widening. “You’re using a blood clone.” Snape’s eyes narrowed at the brat, how did he know about blood clones? The young wizard continued, “Blood clones are illegal, professor. Not only that, they’re completely immoral…”

“Do you want to test this potion or not, Potter?” Snape snapped. “And I adjusted the potion, the clone never achieves sentience.” He turned back to the trunk and pulled out what looked like a small figurine. Placing it a few feet away, Snape then unhooked a large vial from the bottom of the trunk and set it on the table. He was just getting ready to make a cut in his forearm for the finishing touch when Potter stood up.

“Lay back down, Potter,” Snape pointed back at the couch.

“Professor, it would make more sense for me to add my blood to the clone.”

“Are you back on that, Potter?” Snape asked. “I am the Potions Master here, Potter. I am well qualified to analyze the potion’s effects.”

“To analyze, yes. But I can compare it with past experience and I’ve had potions training with unknown solutions as well,” Potter insisted. His face was paler than Snape liked and he was putting more effort into moving than he should have to, but there was that flicker of Gryffindor determination. Frowning, Snape considered the young wizard. He did have a point, unfortunately, but it was difficult to say whether or not his experience would prove a significant difference.

“Who trained you?”

“Master Quincey Blake.”

Snape’s eyebrow twitched. The Order of the Phoenix had managed to convince Blake to work with them? If he knew Blake, he would never have allowed Potter to go out on the field without intense training. That solved the qualifying question, and even with Potter’s weaker condition he knew it wouldn’t actually harm the other wizard. Still…

“You’re hiding something,” Snape stated.

Pausing, Potter looked down at the floor. “I’d say no, but I’m sure you’d be able to hear the lie in it,” he admitted. “Still, I have a valid point, and I guarantee my reasons will have no impact on the results.”

Turning back to the miniature, Snape said, “Fine. Put a shallow cut on your forearm and let it drip into the potion for twenty seconds.” Taking out his wand, Snape unshrunk the figure and it grew into something similar to a mannequin. It had no distinctive features and it looked as though it was made of clay. He looked it over to make sure there was nothing immediately wrong with it. Turning back to the trunk, Snape slipped a small vial out and into his pocket. Closing the trunk and quickly resetting the locks, he turned back to see Potter pressing down on the cut he had made. It looked as though Potter cut a little too deep, though, since the blood was leaking between his fingers.

“Damn it, Potter,” Snape grabbed a tissue and brought it over to the table. He shoved Potter’s hand away and pressed the tissue down on the cut. Potter hissed but didn’t say a word. Folding the tissue along the cut, Snape bit out, “I said a shallow cut, Potter. You don’t need this much for the potion to work.”

“Sorry, professor,” Potter said softly.

“Don’t apologize, just pay attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

Glancing over, Snape realized that he was standing closer than he thought. He could see the young wizard’s individual eyelashes as they blinked down at the arm Snape was holding. Potter’s skin was pale, but he seemed to be regaining some of his color. Stepping away, Snape picked up the large vial and moved in front of the dummy. He pressed open its “mouth” and poured the potion into it. Turning back to the table, he motioned Potter back to the couch.

“Lay back down. You’ll feel strange for a minute, being in two places at once.” Snape watched Potter make his way back slowly and his brow crinkled in concern. This wouldn’t harm the young wizard, he knew, but some foreboding hovered in the back of his mind. Scowling, he turned away again. He didn’t like this… worry.

Potter gingerly lay on the couch, eyes watching the clone with curiosity. Its features were morphing into Potter’s form, similar to the Polyjuice potion only starting from scratch rather than a human being. The clone shrunk a little to Potter’s height and thinned out. Wiry muscles began to stretch and the skin turned a shade darker. Its texture changed from a thick clay to smooth skin covered with light hairs, almost unnoticeable. The shaggy black hair fell into its wild shape around its face and the bone structure narrowed into a delicate curve.

The young wizard let out an embarrassed cough. “Do you have any shorts?” he asked.

Snape blinked. Oh, yes. He strode over to the drawers by the side of the room and took out a pair. Impatient, and unwilling to touch the changing figure, he waved his wand and the shorts automatically attached themselves to the clone. The brat let out a sigh of relief and thanked the potions master, who simply waved it off. Potter’s modesty was little concern of his, but the other wizard would certainly have a fit about the clone’s exposure. It would almost be amusing, if Snape weren’t so anxious about the potions…

Excited, he told himself firmly. Not anxious, excited. New potions were always a point of interest and pride, and these… would be no different.

He looked over the clone, noting its slowing progression. The change was nearly complete. Glancing back at the original, Snape noticed the bright eyes observing the copy with fascination. Well, it was certainly strange to look at yourself in the flesh. Snape turned back to the clone, lifting its arms and letting them fall, testing its mobility. He took the chin in hand and turned the head, the skin smooth and familiar under his fingers. He had been feeding Potter a lot of potions this way, he snickered to himself.

The face was facing him directly when the dark lashes flashed open, revealing those electric green eyes right back into his. Snape was charged with surprise for a moment at the intensity in the stare, when he recalled that this was the clone. Stepping back, he noted the eyes stayed on his, though they held no further recognition or intelligence.

“Is it done?” Potter asked. At Snape’s nod, he let out a quiet, “Wow…”

“Indeed,” Snape attempted a sneer, but felt he only accomplished it by half. Now he was faced with two Potters, even if one was only a copy. That made him strangely uneasy. He masked his nerves by taking up the second sample of potions to test. “Prepare yourself, Potter. And pay attention. The senses will be more subdued in yourself by 90 percent, so every detail will be important.”

“Yes, sir,” Potter nodded and sunk back into the cushions.

Seeing Potter adequately at attention, Snape gave the staring clone the second potion. The thick liquid dribbled past the full lips and down to the back of the throat where the copy swallowed in reflex. After seeing the potion completely gone, Snape stepped back to avoid possible convulsions and waited for it to take effect. In a matter of seconds, the clone fell to the floor violently. Snape had expected this and quickly tapped his wand against the hard floor, muttering a spell to soften the ground. They wouldn’t want the clone to be too damaged.

The false Potter was writhing in apparent agony, mouth open in a hushed rasp. Although the clone could not duplicate full human speech, it was capable of some sounds. Its voice grew stronger as it began to use its throat for the first time. Snape put up a muffling charm before the noise became unbearable. He had heard enough tortured screams to last him the rest of his lifetime; he didn’t need one more. A gasp was heard behind him and he whirled around to look at Potter.

The young wizard was shuddering and Snape’s brow crinkled in puzzlement and some concern. Moving to hover over the couch, Snape asked, “Are you in pain, Potter?”

Potter made an effort to control himself, though his limbs were obviously beyond his grasp. “Th-they are-e ve-ry strong-g convul-sions, pro-ff’sr,” his teeth chattered out.

Frowning, Snape saw the leather strap of an ingredient’s bag and brought it over to Potter, inserting it between his teeth. The brat’s eyes were closed in concentration, but he hummed to Snape in question. “I assume you do not want to bite your tongue, Potter,” Snape said, dryly. “We shall have to wait until the episode rides out. There was not enough potion to last for a long period and the ingredients should not produce lingering effects without enough build-up in the system.” Potter made no acknowledgement, but Snape hadn’t expected any. He turned back to the clone.

The copy was still spasming on the floor. Snape glowered at the form, irritated at the strength of the potion for once, and its ability to inflict damaging effects to the clone’s source. A ten percent sensory input should not have Potter trembling beyond control. If the original potion was made for such effects, then Potter’s nerves surely had to be irreparably damaged. Snape was unsure whether he would be able to heal the lasting damage that would be caused by frequent dosages of the potion and its aftereffects from buildup. The brat always seemed to get into the worst situations…

Finally, the convulsions were beginning to subside. A trickle of blood leaked from the clone’s mouth, where it may have bit its tongue. One of its wrists was also at a strange angle; it may have snapped from the force of the movements. The soft floor had prevented most of the damage, but it seemed that bruises were beginning to form everywhere. Snape poured a healing potion down its throat, to reset the clone’s physical state for the next trial. Once done, he turned away to wait for it to take effect.

Snape could ignore the broken Potter replica on the floor, but he couldn’t avoid watching the real Potter on the couch. The young wizard was still trembling a little and his skin was pale. He was forming long, controlled breaths and looking over at his double, now that he could turn his head to see it. Apparently, Potter did not like what he saw, as Snape could see fear edging into his eyes and his face became a shade paler than it already was. Snape cleared his throat and faced Potter, grabbing the other wizard’s attention.

“How close are the effects?”

Potter had mastered the indirect stare, it seemed, alternating between the clone, his own hands, and Snape. His voice no longer trembled, and the shaking seemed to be fading away. “The convulsions here were much stronger than what I experienced from the original potion. The taste had too much of a tang as well. The same thing with a purified base might make the difference.”

Snape nodded. “That is what we are trying next.” He picked up the third potion, the closest to the consistency and color that Potter had described. He asked Potter, “Have the effects gone through their full course?”

“Yes, that healing potion seems to have helped.”

Snape nodded and carried the vial over to the clone. All of the bruising had faded away and it was lying still along the floor, just as good as new. Ah, potions… Still, Snape hesitated a moment. “Are you prepared for the next trial, Potter?” he asked, not looking back at the brat.

“Yes, sir.”

That damn Gryffindor stubbornness. Snape poured the third potion down the clone’s throat.

The effects were also immediate on this potion, though not nearly as harsh. The clone’s arms and legs were thrown about, but the body maintained its position on the ground. Groans of pain were issued from its lips in between panting for air. Judging by the motion of its chest, its lungs were constricted. The clone’s head tilted back, eyes scrunched shut, as the rest of its body seemed caught between an uncomfortable squirm and general flailing about.

A look back at Potter showed the lessened effects of the potion. The young wizard was taking controlled breaths still, but his body was still and his eyes narrowed as they observed his duplicate a few feet away. Turning to the spasming body once more, Snape noted a strong shudder moving through the clone subsiding into tremors.

Noting that the effects of the potion were dying out a lot quicker than the previous one, Snape concluded that if this one were the original potion, Potter must have ingested a serious amount of it to have the side effect of seizures and shivers now. At least the muscle damage from this potion might not be as severe.

“How were the effects for this potion?” Snape questioned clinically.

There was a pause before Potter murmured, “I think we were right on target. It’s exactly as I remembered it by physical properties and the effects remain the same, other than a shorter duration.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know how much of it you were given, Potter?”

The other wizard shook his head slowly. “It’s hard to say, sir. The days seemed to… I think they told me that we were held for five and a half weeks, professor.”

Snape raised an eyebrow and bit out, “We, Potter?”

A nearly inaudible sigh. “Remus and myself were taken in by the Ministry.”

Snape could not help the twitch in his eye at that. He grumbled out, “Did the… Did Lupin ingest the potion?”

“No, it seemed that they were only interested in drugging me. They refused to give Remus potions.”

They refused… Snape’s eyes widened. “They did not give him the Wolfsbane potion.” Potter shook his head to confirm. “Were you locked in the same cell as him?”

“Not all the time.” Potter seemed to hesitate and let out a breath, “Remus showed more control than we could have hoped for.”

Snape’s stomach seemed to drop with disgust. That the Ministry would risk turning their own Savior into a werewolf… it was worse than stupidity. Someone there loathed Potter. “Did they ever give an official reason for your imprisonment?” he asked.

“Officially, Remus and I were never imprisoned,” Potter said, mildly enough. “Other sources would only say that we were away for training. Only a few people in the Order and the Ministry knew where we were, and a lot of forged and faked paperwork was shuffled about, both to hide us and bring us out.” He paused, and a shot of amusement entered his voice, “On paper, I was Thomas Riddles. I think Fred and George had something to do with that.”

Of course, the typical Weasley twin humor. Snape mentally waved it off and brought them back to the point. “Did they give you the potion everyday?”

Thinking back, Potter stated, “They gave me many truth serums, as well as potions to control me. When those didn’t work out as they planned, they switched to the new potion. They seemed really intent on the controlling aspect.”

Ah, yes… “You mentioned that the potion may have been meant to create a dependency. Specifics?”

Again, Potter hesitated. “After and in between doses… my skin would run between highly sensitive and completely dull. When my body was numb… I found it hard to care about what was happening or why. They tried to convince me to do some… public speaking, I suppose. A declaration of loyalty… And the Death Eater involved with the Ministry was trying to slip me past their security during those times. I found out then that it was his potion.”

Snape racked his brain for possible Death Eaters capable of a potion of this sort. The Dark Lord had kept him busy with potions involved in direct attacks, but for backups the potions would always go to Stevens or… “Barlow?”

Potter shrugged. “I think they called him Barnett. It could have been an alias or maybe not.”

It may not be important then, Barlow tended to fall strictly on orders and if it was a variation on an older potion, as Snape suspected it might be, then it was probably the Dark Lord’s doing. He tended to orchestrate several plans through his Death Eaters and controlling the Boy-Who-Lived would certainly fall into the plans. Even so, it was a surprise to Snape that he had never been told. Shaking it off, he continued.

“What would your estimate be, as to the amount of potion you absorbed?”

Potter thought it out, and Snape waited, watching him count on his fingers. “They chose this potion in the last two weeks, I believe, and I had at least one dose per day after that… maybe 15 liters in total.”

Fifteen liters… of that potion? He had just watched what some spare milliliters would do to the clone, and Potter had fifteen liters over two weeks? Snape felt a faint nausea crawl over him. The Ministry must have been desperate to risk this, or the Death Eater wanted to draw out a long and painful death. Either way, the healers that had looked over Potter were probably right; the young wizard had to be saturated with the potion still, after all this time. How was he going to combat this?…

Potter gave an uncomfortable cough at Snape’s silence, and he looked up to see the young wizard looking resigned. “I made it out alive and without many side effects, anything more would be a blessing, really.”

Snape drew up a sneer, as much as he could, “I don’t need your platitudes, Potter. It just means that it will be a difficult process, that is all.” He straightened up and turned towards the clone, which was still shivering on the floor. He raised an eyebrow; apparently, even though the most intense effects were of shorter duration, the tremors lingered longer than the second potion. Snape stepped forward to check its vitals.

Its pulse was a little quick and its skin was warm, but at least it was not the pale chill that it was before. Breathing had regulated a little but its motions were not consistent with anything more than an itch and not a danger to itself. There were no noticeable bruises, thanks to the softened floor, and Snape did not note any blood in the mouth or elsewhere. The eyes were still shut tight and he moved to open them and view the pupils.

The clone’s eyes shot open and those brilliant green orbs caught Snape’s gaze directly. Those eyes sparked an intense reaction in Snape that, through his surprise, he shoved away with alarm. The pupils were dilated and yet the emerald green still shone around them and encompassed the purity of the emotion within them.

Snape quickly leaned back and called out, “Dot!”

She popped in next to him and curtsied. “At your service, Master Snape.” Dot spared a brief glance at the clone, but did not seem shocked. Her particular brand of magic must have recognized it as a duplicate.

“Dot, please take away the clone until we have further need of it,” he ordered. His firm control kept the shock from leaking into his voice.

“Yes, Master Snape.” Dot levitated the body and took it out of the room. Snape gave a brief direction to Potter to remain where he was and rest until he no longer felt even a fraction of the potion’s effects. Turning away to sit at the furthest chair at his potion station, his mind whirled.

Was that lust that he had seen in those green eyes?

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