Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Hidden

by Maven Cree

Part I: Odds and Things

Chapter Three: Odds and Things

"Now, are you certain this will work? I'm not sure about this iffy medicine…"

Harry fought desperately not to roll his eyes. He forced a smile onto his face.

"Yes, Mrs. Turnblatt. Like every other medicine you've bought here, it works. If for some strange reason it doesn't, you can return it for a full refund. But it will work."

Mrs. Turnblatt turned the round blue bottle around in her pudgy hand, a pensive finger tapping against her chin. "I don't know… I've tried so many other products and none of them have really worked. And they're government approved…

"Mrs. Turnblatt," Harry interrupted. Do you still have bunions on your feet?"

"…Well… No…"

"Do your joints still ache?"

"No…"

"Do you still have that nasty rash?"

"…No…"

"Then believe me ma'am. Take two drops a day of this po--medicine, for the next ten days and your nose hairs will stay at a reasonable length and thickness."

The solid woman looked at the bottle again, then back at Harry.

"Two drops?"

"Two drops."

"In my afternoon tea?"

"In your afternoon tea."

She sighed. "Alright then young man. I'll try it."

She handed over several bills of Muggle money. Harry gave her back change and bag to carry her purchase.

She left the shop with a final wave."

"See you again," she said.

Harry gave a pleasant wave and continued to do so until she was no longer visible out the front window.

His hand dropped, as did his head… straight onto the counter, where he banged it over and over and over again.

Mrs. Turnblatt aside, Harry had rather been enjoying his time at 'Odds and Thing: Antiques, Books and Cures'. It had been just under three months since he'd shown up on Liam's doorstep. He was a kind man. Friendly, hearty and open, with a wild sense of humour. He was fiercely intelligent, Harry found, with vast knowledge of both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. Aside from his slyness and intellect, he was the exact opposite of someone he would picture Severus Snape being friends with.

His first morning at the shop, after a delicious traditional English Breakfast, Liam had given Harry a tour of his… or rather their living space, located both above behind the shop. Upstairs consisted of only what Harry had seen the night before: three bedrooms, the washroom and a closet. On the main floor, behind the shop, there was a parlour, warmly furnished, a comfortable living room complete with television and stereo, a full kitchen, pantry and storage room and another small toilet. There was a small stone basement which housed the more volatile potion ingredients, potions, two or three cauldrons and basic potion making equipment. All in all, the home was very pleasant in Harry's opinion.

The shop itself was the last stop on the tour.

"People can touch and fiddle with the merchandise as much as they like, but they break, they buy. And if someone would like us to hold an item for a few days, we can do that. Just place it in the storage space behind the counter or the closet behind the door. Specially ordered potions you can write on these sheets here. Give them to Perigrin; he's the tawny owl with the black specs on his claw. He'll know where to take them. Those orders can take one to two weeks, barring any problems."

"But--- Isn't that… illegal?" Harry asked. The last thing he needed was a group of Ministry Officials swooping down on his hiding place.

"Isn't what illegal?"

"Selling magic to Muggles. The potions."

Liam shook his head. "Only if magical ingredients are used. These potions, herbs and such are created solely from ingredients found in the Muggle world. Now Muggles or people like me for that matter could throw the same ingredients together as much as they like. Nothing would happen. The active magic is in the brewing; the wizard's own energy ignites the process. Gives it its kick. It activates the potion, but its not active magic, so it's perfectly legal."

Liam then pulled out a large book from behind the counter.

"In here," he said, "are a list of the potions and remedies we can give them. They're listed by the ailment… cures for warts or fungus and such, or by name of the potion. It changes based on what you need. We do carry more magical potions. Most of our clientele are Muggles but we do get the odd Witch or Wizard. They are looking for the hard to find potions… our supplier, though anonymous is known for being an advanced Potions Master. Word has gotten around. I deliver Wolfsbane to three Werewolves every month. Normally we don't deliver, but frankly I feel better doing that than them coming here. Or people are looking for a potion, which cannot be traced to them. Nothing illegal really, mostly for embarrassing illnesses or ailment. You know how the Wizarding World likes to gossip."

Harry nodded. He knew better than most.

"We don't do any of that here," Liam continued. "People's purchases are their own business. But we do pay attention to what they wish to buy. You'll need to memorize our stock and learn what combines with what. You don't want to contribute to anything malicious. If you are asked for, say… Venibe potion and Treespell Onyx…"

"Those combined would destroy someone's lungs."

"Exactly. You may sell them one potion, the more common of the two, but say that you are out of the other. I will handle it if they come back."

Harry flipped through the large tome of potions. Just when he'd thought his days of studying were over….

Liam was a good man for the most part. He had an easiness about him that Harry had not expected to find in an acquaintance of Snape's. He was friendly with both Harry and the customers. Sometimes he'd forgo payment, if he felt the situation warranted it. He also had a mysterious side. His wicked sense of humour and sharp wit lead Harry to believe the mousy-haired man would have done well in Slytherin.

When Harry had thanked him again for taking him in, Liam had told him never to do that again.

"Severus must think you're important if he's taken the trouble to send you're here. And I don't mean important, as in surviving He-Who-Must-Be-Named. Snape has his own way of thinking. And if he thinks you're worth protecting, then I'm anxious to see what he has planned."

"You and me both," Harry had muttered to which Liam had let loose a hearty laugh.

Harry soon found that curiosity of Snape's actions was not the only thing he and Liam had in common.

The customer was a Squib. A mildly intoxicated Squib, whom they'd come to know as Benjamin.

Every few days, Benjamin would saunter into the shop and inquire if they'd received any potions 'that would turn him into a full Wizard yet?' Money was apparently no object. He'd tried the 'Quickspell' route and other similar ventures, only to fail time and time again, and several lawsuits later, he was a comfortably rich man. The only Squib born to his pureblood family in two thousand years, his requests would have bordered on desperate, if he weren't so ornery.

On his third visit to the store, since Harry's arrival, the two shopkeepers, once again were forced to disappoint their disgruntled repeat customer. As he purchased a small talisman to placate himself for a while, he'd mixed no words in sharing his believe that the two of them, despite (apparently) being Squibs themselves, 'weren't even trying to help him'. That they, like the rest of the Wizarding World were laughing at his misfortune at every turn.

Harry handed him the wrapped talisman with a blanket apology. "Really sorry," Liam added for good measure. Benjamin struggled to stuff the package into his robes, all the while muttering incoherently.

He turned, still struggling and headed for the exit. It was when he was only a step or so from the door, that he viciously raised his head and barked, "Great flaming poof," over his shoulder, before departing in a tinkle of door chimes.

Both Harry and Liam shared equal looks of chagrin, before speaking in unison.

"Sorry."

And then, with twin looks of surprise, "Wait, was he talking to you?"

And finally, "You're gay?"

Liam clapped a hand over Harry's mouth.

"Okay, just because we're both playing for the same team, doesn't mean we need to start speaking in tandem." He dropped his hand.

"I can't believe that you of all Wizards are into men."

At Harry's befuddled look, Liam had explained. "I'm not being a hypocrite. It's just that one would think that The Boy Wh-- well… you, being gay would have been front page news."

Harry nodded. "It would have been, but only three people-- scratch that. I'm sure Dumbledore knew. He knew practically everything that happened in that castle. Only four people knew. My-- two best friends and a bloke by the name of Seamus." Harry flushed slightly.

Liam grinned. "Friend of yours?"

"For a time. We… "dated" a bit during our sixth year. He-- er…"

"He was your first."

Harry nodded.

"And was this Seamus among those who turned their backs on you?"

Harry gave a sad sort of grin.

"He never got the chance. He died last summer."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Surprisingly, no. For once, a death had absolutely nothing to do with me. He died in a car crash."

"A Wizard?" Liam seemed surprised. "I didn't think a simple car crash could kill a wizard."

"It can when said wizard, was pasted drunk and drove said car into a petrol truck."

"Oh dear."

"At least he didn't suffer." Harry commented. Then he chuckled. "It's kind of fitting, I suppose. Seamus was always blowing up one thing or another.

"…I did not just say that."

Liam laughed and clapped Harry on the back. "Yes, you did. But it's alright. The fact that you can laugh now means the ripples were good. Too many these days leave dark ripples when they pass."

As Liam walked to the storeroom, Harry wondered what kind of ripples his "death" had left behind.

No, it was definitely not the worst existence Harry could have been forced to cope with. Most times, when he could forget the recent past, Harry would say he was actually enjoying himself…

…Turnblatts and Benjamins aside.

Harry continued to thump his head.

"That is an interesting melody; I don't believe I've heard it before."

Harry paused, his head resting on the counter.

There was that voice again.

"Please… Don't stop on my account."

Harry straightened up, the blood rushing to his feet. He swayed slightly before opening his eyes. "Professor."

Snape was standing in the centre of the shop holding a wooden crate.

"Mr. Caldwell," he nodded politely. He raised a curious eyebrow. "Is there a problem, or is this a new hobby in lieu of Quidditch?"

"Ever tried to hammer a simple concept into a hopelessly undeveloped brain?"

The lone eyebrow rose even higher.

"Never mind," Harry droned, realizing that he'd walked right into that one.

"Is it not time to close?"

"Yes, Merciful Merlin it its," Harry said, coming our from behind the counter. He locked the front door, flipped the "Closed" sign and drew down the blind.

"It is a full moon tonight. Is it safe to assume that Liam is making a delivery?"

"Yes," Harry told him. "He should be back in an hour or so."

"You appear to be functioning," Snape noted, placing the crate on the counter. He began to unload bottles of varying shapes and sizes. Harry resumed his place behind the counter and pulled out the large inventory book.

"I'm doing alright. It's strange though; I haven't gone this long without using magic since before I went to Hogwarts. Muggle life is taking some adjustment -- But I haven't slipped!" he added quickly, when Snape paused and looked at him sternly.

"Have any of our kind come in?" he asked, examining a squat, lime green bottle. He wrote down its identity and quantity in the ledger.

"A couple of old witches," Harry replied. "And a Warlock. They're regulars apparently. Liam knew they were coming and told me to wait in the back."

"And you did you feel when they were here?"

Harry though for a moment, taking the bottle Snape was holding out to him and setting it on the shelf.

"A little nervous I suppose… And a little angry. I didn't expect that, I mean, I didn't even know them."

"Perfectly understandable. They are part of the self same group who cast you to the wolves. In appearance, however, I recommend that you stick with the nervousness. You're supposed to be a Squib and Squibs tend to have one of two different reactions to magical folk: Fear, or resentment. I trust I don't have to tell you what adverse confrontations may lead to. Better to have them think you'll serve them for fear of what they might do to you.

"I'm there already," Harry muttered, but if Snape heard him, he gave no outward sign.

They continued with their work. The items were mostly special requests that would be picked up in the days following, but there were a few standards like headache and stomach medicine and to Harry's surprise and relief, Dreamless Sleep Potion. This, Snape gave to Harry directly, rather than registering it for the stores.

"I understand you've been having some difficulty," he said plainly. "Just don't overuse this; no more than four nights out of every seven. Dreams are an important part of the mind. To cut them off completely can have… less than desirable results."

Harry nodded. "Th-thank you, sir."

The two continued stocking the shelves in relative silence as neither seemed to have anything else particular to say. It was the first time Harry had seen his former professor since he'd come to the shop. He'd sent post to Liam, and of course, their stock of potions. But nothing for him other than the odd note reminding him to behave himself. Harry began to wonder if there was another reason for this visit. Some of the potions and ingredients he'd brought with him were a little more precious than the usual stock, but nothing that a sturdy owl couldn't handle. This thought brought to mind something else.

"Professor…" he began. "Have you… do you know… have you seen my owl? She's a white Snowy--"

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell. I have seen your owl. Lupin is using him."

"Her. Wait-- Lupin?!"

"Still not that quick, are we? Yes. Your beloved Professor has recovered and is greatly mourning your passing. And no, you may not contact him under any circumstance."

Harry closed his mouth for the moment. "But--"

"No."

"I don't--"

"No."

"If--"

"Potter!" he hissed, "Need I remind you exactly what is at stake here? Do not forget your vow to me."

Harry's shoulders sank. "No, sir. I won't. Can you at least tell me… Is he… Does he hate me? Like the others do? You said he was mourning me."

"Indeed he is. No, he does not hate you. Nor does he believe that it was you who attacked Dumbledore, himself or the others. Apparently his Lunar Addition leaves his 'normal' senses rather heightened. He swears that it was an impostor.

"However, given the evidence, and the fact that Werewolf's testimony is valued only slightly more than a House-Elf's, he is hard pressed to find support. Even among the others hurt by your passing."

"Others?"

"Granger, Weasley and his family. The most of the other Professors."

"But-- But I thought they hated me?

"There is a vast difference between hating someone and wishing them dead, Mr. Caldwell," Snape levelled. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess," Harry replied.

"Besides," Snape continued, going back to the log, "I do not believe they truly hated you as much as they were severely pissed off at you. That aside, they still fought for lenience up until the time of your execution. Indeed Ronald, his twin brothers and Ms. Granger were banned from the proceedings all together, lest they try to interfere.

Harry closed his eyes. In his mind he could see Ron fighting with the Ministry, no regard to propriety whatsoever, when it was for something he felt passionate about. Harry was relieved. He was worried that he didn't really know the people he'd called friends if they could so easily cast him to a fate far worse than death. If he could never see them again, at least he had that.

"So they didn't want me Kissed, but they're still angry with me."

"Of course, Mr. Caldwell. You're still a traitor after all."

Potter picked up the topmost book off the pile Severus had just placed in front of him.

"Mine's Bigger Than Yours: Staff Magic Versus The Wand?"

"Despite the abysmal title, it is a first class piece of work. Thank you, Liam."

Severus nodded to the gentleman as he placed a cup of tea, set to Severus's taste, on the coffee table. Snape took a seat in the plush chair opposite Potter. Liam placed his own cup on the short side of the table and sat down.

"Staff magic?" Harry asked. "I've never heard of it."

"It is an extremely rare magic these days. Since staffs went 'out of fashion' as walking apparel, wizards turned more to the use of wands, which could be more easily carried and concealed. Plus, the day-to-day magics used were far too mundane for something of such power.

"There is also the fact that the number of wizards and witches powerful enough to wield a staff had begun to dwindle. Today there are only five wizards and two witches on the entire planet who possess the knowledge to create a magical staff… And it is a fair stroke of luck that one of them happens to be a friend of our dear Headmaster. Before this… unfortunate turn of events, Dumbledore commissioned his friend to create a new staff.

"Well, if anyone is… was… is… powerful enough to wield a staff, it's Dumbledore," Potter said.

"Indeed," Snape continued. "However, Dumbledore already has a staff, or at least that is what his cryptic conversations had led me to believe. I have never actually seen it. No, Mr. Caldwell, the staff he commissioned was for you."

"…For me."

"Yes."

"…And you know where this staff is?

"Yes."

Harry shook his head. "Okay, I'll put my surprise at this aside for now, but what's the point of me studying all of this. I can't to magic anymore. I'm not a part of that world anymore."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mr. P-- Mr. Caldwell. Did you think I intended you to spend the rest of your days here, a store clerk and assistant? Do you think I would have gone through all of this trouble, just so that you could live a somewhat normal life?"

Harry sat back in chair, his jaw hung open like a codfish.

"No, Mr. Caldwell," Snape continued. "You still have a job to do.

"…And I intend to see that you complete it."

To be continued…

A/N: Thanks for all your support and extreme patience. RL is calming down to something resembling normal, so I have time and patience to write again. I have a new Live Journal which you can link to through my profile here, or my yahoo group. Hope you are enjoying this, and if you are, I'd love to hear from ya!