To Live is the Rarest Thing

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Several things happened at once.

Harry realized he was the world’s, no, the multi-verse’s biggest, most complacent fool. He should have known Severus would dose him with veritaserum the first chance he got. But in Harry’s defence, he trusted Severus, knew the man was on their side, had even sworn a vow to keep Harry Potter safe.

Of course, Severus had no idea who Harry really was, and he had only seen Jack Bird, an unknown wizard, cause havoc during an Order meeting with very specific information about Harry Potter. Naturally Severus would want to learn everything he could about this potential enemy, and as a Potions Master who always kept veritaserum in stock he simply used the most efficient way to get answers. Harry could hardly even blame the guy. It’s what Harry himself would have done if their roles had been reversed.

Oh, Tom must never find out about this. He would be laughing in Harry’s face for centuries to come.

Harry dropped his teacup and threw himself to the floor, while Severus also dropped his cup and sprung up, wand appearing in his hand as if out of nowhere.

The angle Harry found himself in, squashed between the coffee table and the sofa, prevented him from drawing his wand quickly, but Harry didn’t need a wand to perform simple defensive spells. He aimed his hand under the coffee table at Severus’ foot and cast a silent lasso charm, pulling Severus’ foot out from under him and causing him to topple over just as he was casting a disarming charm at Harry.

Without giving Severus a chance to catch his bearings, Harry cast a silent disarming charm at him and caught his wand. Slowly, Harry sat up, intent on obliviating Severus and calling it a night, and tomorrow he’d write to the Guild of Potioneers and ask for another supervising Master.

Severus, his black hair obscuring most of his face, barely sat up while aiming a hand at Harry’s face, and the last thing Harry thought before a streak of red light hit him was ‘oh crap, Snape knows wandless magic, too’.

Darkness greeted him and when Harry came to again he found himself propped up on the sofa, body completely tied up with magical ropes from shoulders to ankles. He could tell by the colour of his fringe that Severus had removed his glamours, and by the oily residue on his tongue that Severus had dripped at least five or more drops of veritaserum directly onto his tongue.

Forget centuries. Tom was going to laugh straight into Harry’s face for millennia. What an utterly embarrassing situation to find himself in as a multi-life Auror and duelling champion.

Though, in Harry’s defence, it had been at least ten lifetimes since he’d last been a witch or wizard so he was a little rusty, okay?

Severus stood leaning over Harry, studying his scar. “Your full name, again.”

“Harry James Potter,” Harry said dutifully, since there was no point trying to stop himself from answering. And no matter how many lives Harry had lived, he’d always identified himself as Harry Potter, the same way as Tom had always been Tom Riddle to him, and vice versa. Yes, Harry had inhabited almost 200 different bodies and carried almost 200 different names, but from the very beginning he’d been just Harry, and that had never really changed. In private, no matter who they were or where they lived, Harry and Tom still addressed each other by their original names, and usually brushed it off as an inside joke involving a dick when inevitably someone overheard them.