Chapter Six: The True Heir (or Lineage) Potion
Harry closed the door to his rooms behind him, breathing a tired sigh of relief. The library had taken over an hour. Another hour had been spent trying to extricate himself from Dobby, who was "being so happy, Harry Potter sir is being an apprentice!"
Still, the house elves had set him up right well, with sliced meats, some tomatos and loaves of bread, cheese, butter, jams, a bit of fruit, tea and coffee, and a jug of pumpkin juice. Turnovers and meat pies, too. Truthfully, the sheer amount of food was comparable to his share of the meals at the Dursleys' for nearly a month.
He'd managed to find the "cool cupboard" spell quick enough in the Modern Witch's Guide to Household Charms--a rather dusty tome a good fifty years old or better. According to the card in it, it was possibly the only book in the library that Hermione hadn't checked out at least once--at least one not in the Restricted Section. In fact, the last to check it out had been Amollina Baines, in 1963. (Hermione was going to have a fit when she found out apprentices had free run of the Restricted Section. That many books he could read at will, and doubted he would until he had to, that she couldn't get her hands on without permission and detailed reason).
He cleared out one area of the bookshelves in the main room that had cupboard-like doors. The spell, "Gelu Armarium!" produced a whisp of icy blue smoke. Harry touched the shelf inside the cupboard and grinned. "Brilliant!" He smiled at the refrigerator-cool cupboard. Then, however, on sheer merit of its title he quickly hid the "Modern Witch's Guide to Household Charms" at the bottom of the pile of books he'd levitated over to the floor next to his desk, because, well ... really. Useful or not, he'd rather not be caught dead with a book of that title. Professor McGonagall catching him with some of Seamus' muggle porn magazines would probably be less horrifying than Snape ever catching him with a book titled "Modern Witch's" anything.
The book on the "True Heir Potion, Commonly known as the Lineage Potion" was first on Harry's reading. While it didn't have the actual potion instructions in it, it was fascinating in a bizarre sort of way as he skimmed through.
The True Heir Potion is one of the most ancient potions surviving to this day and was once commonly used by the Aristocracy to ensure that the Heir of the family was indeed the trueborn heir of the family patriarch.
Several legendary families were reputed to have used the True Heir Potion. A select few had continued until the family's extinction, or to the beginning of this century when the Ministry began frowning greatly on it. Though it is still legal and not restricted by anything more than its difficulty to brew and the intricacy of spells associated with the brewing, it IS a potion that uses human blood--the blood of the brewer.
The Slytherin Family--founded by Septamus Slytherin in 870 BC, reputed to be either Apprentice of Merlin or son of Merlin. The most noted descendant of the Slytherin Line was Salazar Slytherin, one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts.
The last recorded use of the True Heir Potion was by the daughters of Salmoneus Slytherin circa 1923. Known as the "Serpent's Scandal," it was one of the greatest scandals of this century. It resulted in the disinheritance of Salena Slytherin, witch who was proven NOT to be the blood-child of Salmoneus. Unfortunately, Salmoneus' second daugher Serena was a Squib and no more is known of her. By Slytherin Tradition, Squibs do not inherit; however, an heir of the Squib's direct line CAN if there are no other lawful heirs. Thus, the Slytherin Legacy lays in wait for a direct descendant of Serena Slytherin if one should ever be born a Witch or Wizard.
Salmoneus Slytherin publically denounced his wife Sapphira, who was the last remaining member of a distaff line of the Slytherin family that also bore the name Slytherin.
The Emrys Family--founded by Nynaeve Emrys, c. 850 BC, reputed to be either Apprentice of Merlin or Daughter of Merlin. The last member of the line of Emrys was Alladoria Emrys Flamel, wife of noted Alchemist Nicholas Flamel.
Family names connected to both Slytherin and Emrys lines are Dyfed, Wynterbourne, Snape, and Gentry.
One of the most mysterious scandals involving the Lineage Potion involves another Founder's Line, in fact a Founder. Godric Gryffindor was the eldest of three children born to Gawain and Phyllomena Gryffindor. He had twin siblings, Garrick and Gwynnedd, two years his junior. After the death of Gawain Gryffindor, Garrick and Gwynnedd contested the Gryffindor Inheritance going to Godric, who as by Right of First Born, inherited all but a few small bequests. Some accounts having Phyllomena Gryffindor supporting her younger son's contestation, along with Garrick's twin sister.
Shortly after the filing of contestation, Garrick and Phyllomena Gryffindor were killed in a suspicious fire. Some claim that Gwynnedd Gryffindor died in the fire as well; other records say that while the bodies of Garrick and Phyllomena were found, Gwynnedd's never was. Godric refused to allow use of Lineage potion on Hogwarts grounds during his lifetime, and with no male heirs the name of Gryffindor was lost. As of this publication, it is unknown if there are any remaining descendants of the Gryffindor bloodline.
Nor was it ever proven that Godric Gryffindor did not carry the blood of the Gryffindor line (begun by Garradoc Gryffindor c. 210 AD)
Notable families of today who had tradition of using the True Heir Lineage Potion up untli sometime the last century--the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Snapes, the Dumbledores, the Morrigans, the O'Malleys, the McMillans, the Boots, the LeStranges, the Boneses, and the Morrigans
A book entitled Obscure Ancient Potions had the actual potion in it. Harry's jaw dropped. Post-NEWTs potion indeed! The school govenors and most parents would have hippogriffs if the potion was part of the normal curriculum.
Truthfully, it was more a ritual than a potion, with the runic wardings and spellcasting involved on top of the potion itself. While the potion was fairly straight forward, not too difficult, it took 10 hours nonstop attention--not to mention the more disturbing ingredient and requirements, including a witness.
His options for a witness were--limited. Dumbledore, Flitwick or McGonagall caused him to be nearly nauseaus. Pomphrey. Not hardly. Hagrid or Dobby were unequivocably NO. And Dobby might not count anyway. Neville wouldn't be too bad, but Neville wouldn't cope well Harry expected, he was so blasted shy. Seamus ... Seamus would have alltogether too much fun and distract Harry. Tonks would be too humiliating, and Harry was a bit afraid that she'd rate right there with Seamus for enjoying it alltogether too much. Milicent was absolutely out of the question. Blaise was a completely unknown factor. Merlin help him, that basically left Snape. Harry gave a snort wondering if he wasn't cursed, or Snape was, or maybe both of them. Neither of them seemed able to escape enduring the presence of the other.
Not that SNAPE was at all much of a choice ... Merlin. He really didn't want to contemplate this, but Snape took potions deadly serious. Groaning, Harry went to set up for the potion in his work room--he remembered that McGonagall had said their advisiors were allowed up for inspections, and for delicate projects. This counted. If it didn't ... well, then he wasn't going to brew the potion even if Snape killed him. There was NO WAY he was brewing this in the dungeon where they might be interrupted (not likely, but possible).
"......NOT! Not with Calming potion!" Madam Pomphrey's voice carried out into the hallway.
Harry really didn't get what was said as a reply, the low rumble of Snape's voice didn't carry if he didn't want it to, unlike Madame Pomphrey's outrage. But despite the words not quite understandable it was definitely Snape's.
"He should! His mother and I went through mediwitch training together! Amelia Kingsley would roll in her grave if her son hadn't had that much common sense."
"...Excuse me," Harry poked his head into the hospital wing's door. Snape was ... holding Malfoy. Unconcious Malfoy, like he was just a little kid, cradled in Snape's arms.
"Potter! What the bloody hell are you doing here!"
"Er, the Lineage Potion..." Harry managed to stammer out.
"Severus," Poppy gasped. "Really, the Potters took the Traditional Gryffindor stand on the Lineage Potion calling it an insult and outrage..."
"I am aware of that, but it is also the best way to sort out a course of study of Geneaolgy and Ancestral magic." Severus glared. "I'll be with you shortly, Potter. Wait outside."
Harry ducked back out with a feeling of cold dread. Something was very, very wrong. Malfoy was unconcious, and Snape had an obvious look of worry rather than one of his 1001 scowls or sneers.
"Where have you set up?"
"Er, my rooms sir, my work room ... Professor McGonagall said advisors were allowed past the visitors' room."
"I didn't think you would want to do so up in your chambers ... won't your adoring little fan club interrupt, or is that what you're hoping for?"
"Neville won't bother, neither will Seamus if I put up a 'working on project do not disturb'. They both know I have you for an advisior and they both know that you ... er, well, uhm..."
"What, Potter?" Snape asked in that soft deadly tone that never failed to give Harry shivers.
"Er, very demanding? Don't like anything I do?"
"Don't get smart, Potter. If you want to act like a mouthy brat perhaps I should have you scrubbing all the toilets in the castle before school starts. Or write lines copying every potion you've managed to brew incorrectly in the past five years, a thousand times each."
Harry winced at the memory of his last round of detentions writing lines. For a second, he imagined scars covering every inch of his body in the form of potions recipes.
"What happened to Malfoy? Sir?" He added the honorific on hastily. This was going to be bad enough--the potion making without Snape in a worse than usual mood. "He's going to be alright isn't he, sir?"
"Sorry to disappoint you and your little friends, but Mr. Malfoy shall be making a full recovery," Snape glared down.
"I don't wish Malfoy harm..."
"Do not lie, Potter," Snape bit out.
"I don't. I wish him to get some sense knocked into him and his head removed from his arse, I wish that he wasn't such bullying git, but I do not wish anything--permanent on him. Miles of difference between a sound thrashing and anything permanent!"
Snape glared down at the boy. "Language, Potter," he snarled in a voice that promised pain, agony and great horrors.
Harry thought he must be mad, but still he asked again, "What happened, sir?" He'd lost his bloody mind, he could hear Ron's voice screaming in his head that it was just Malfoy and he'd probably gotten no more than he deserved.
Snape glared down at Harry, pinning him for long minutes. "It will be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow anyway. You and your little friends will not make things more difficult. Narcissa Malfoy cast the Killing Curse on her husband and then herself, Draco was in the room at the time."
"Oh god, poor Malfoy," Harry swallowed. "No one should have to see a parent murdered, not even Malfoy. I wouldn't wish those memories on anyone."
"You cannot possibly remember," Snape snapped disbelievingly.
"WHAT?" Snape demanded hotly.
"When I'm near dementors I hear them ... Dad shouting, 'Quick Lily, get Harry and Run! I'll hold them off!' " Harry said, quietly. "I can just make out red hair, my mum shouting 'No not, Harry' and Voldemort snarling 'step aside you foolish girl and you'll live. I only want the boy.' Mum saying no, never ... then the thud when she hit the floor, and lots of green light. It's the only memory I have of them, and the only reason I have it is the dementors managed to drag it up. He might have been a bastard to you, but he died for me, they both did. She could have lived ... she could have ... He truly would have left her alone, I know that somehow. Gods, Malfoy is--he idolized Lucius. I can't say I'm sorry that bastard is dead ... not after he nearly killed Ginny with the diary and ... but Draco idolized his father. I'm not so sure Malfoy is going to be alright. If--if you want to go back to the Hospital wing--I'll find someone else..."
"I'm sure Nymphadora would enjoy helping you," Snape sneered, covering his shock. (And a bit of worry that the boy didn't say a word about Black. He'd seen Black fall through the Veil, yet not a word ... please Merlin, Circe, let the boy have dealt with his grief on that! Snape simply could not bear the thought of both Harry and Draco on the verge of cracking).
Harry gave a snort. "Rather too much, I think."
"What about Finnegan or Longbottom?"
Harry simply looked at Snape. That he was not answering. Absolutely not.
Snape snorted. "I suppose not."
Harry blinked. Snape was being very odd. Almost--civil. Certainly nothing that could be called pleasant or nice, but civil, almost maybe. At least, civil for Snape.
"Potter, your mother wouldn't have considered saving herself for a second. Not if it meant you died in her place."
Harry's jaw dropped. Where the hell had that come from?
"Close your mouth, Potter, you look like more of an idiot than usual. Move. If I have to spend nine hours watching you make a spectacle of yourself, then the sooner over the better. I do want to be back before Draco wakes up, though that will be a while, he's in shock and Madame Pomphrey will likely keep him sedated til morning." Snape swept ahead, robes billowing behind.
Harry saw red. Spectacle? SPECTACLE? Bloody bastard! The only reason that he was going to make a spectacle of himself was because SNAPE assigned him this potion.
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