A study on blue - white orchid (turned blue) chapter 2

Fandom: Harry Potter
Ship: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Rating: NC-17
Previous chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248072/chapters/47988985

 

… Following the 83 variations on the formula, all exposed in the preceding paragraphs, the potions obtained were both tested with analytical spells and administered to 515 testing subjects (5 subjects for each potion, with the exception of potion 77 where 95 added subject where tested - see below). 

No combination of the enlisted ingredients has produced any active compound, with the exception of potion number 77. 

A sub-sequential investigation on the said compound had proved that the hormonal variation it provoked was not always replicable (13 out of 20 tentatives) and, when it was, fatal to the subjects in 41% of cases.

The hormonal variation generated in the subjects a form of hypothalamic dysregulation of thermogenesis with temporary temperature increase over 48°C (note for the O. C. A.’s Experimentation Committee: House Elves physiological temperature is attested around 41°C and is considered pathological over 43,5°C) that resulted in the death of 13% of the subject from 15 to 35 minutes after the potion intake (with a temperature range from 47, 8°C to 48,3°C) and 28% of the subject within 24 hours from the intake, thus leading us to abandon this line of experimentation. The surviving subject didn’t show any change in the vitals and magical parameters in the next 24 hours nor during the mandatory six months follow up. 

Notwithstanding the discrepancies between magical human beings and the House Elves models, we can assure for certain that the effects of the potions here concocted and tested would be the same both in wizards and House Elves, thus demonstrating that the mysterious and legendary Locking Potion, as it is called in popular culture, is not existent and not effective (see Table III for the results of the individual experiments). 

In conclusion, as a team, we believe that the folkloristic tale of a repressive potion for individuals presenting a second sex is just that: a folkloristic tale. 

Karen Witthaker, Master Potioner

Annabel Hector, Master Potioner and Supervisor on 

the ethical standards for the Congress of Potioners

XXXX XXXX, Unspeakable

(On the existence of the Locking Potion - Witthaker, Hector et al. 1977)

Severus stirred clockwise the potion five times before adding the meticulously dosed powdered flowers of tilia tormentosa and leaving it to simmer for the next forty-two hours. 

The Locking Potion was complex and long, and only the ablest Potioners were able to complete it, even with the correct recipe, which was the best kept secret in the Potioners Community to the point that people wondered about its very existence.

Snape had obtained the knowledge when he was seventeen, in a summer afternoon spent in the Black’s library helping his housemate with the theory of an advanced potion. In contrast to Hogwarts censorship of Dark Arts, the Black’s library was full of text about Dark Magic and every member of the family or friends was welcomed to it, regardless of age, so the two boys, soon to be Death Eaters, reveled in them. That was how Severus found it, in an anonymous book that laid neglected in one of the lower shelves, the recipe handwritten in the cover page like an afterthought. He had copied it in a fresh parchment out of a whim, without realizing how lucrative that choice would turn out to be. He meant it to be just a challenge, trying to concoct something so rare and difficult, not knowing there could really be someone who could use it. 

It took him two years to master the correct procedure, the brewing lasted thirty-seven days and the minimum error could cost the entire batch. After that Snape had done it only another two times, all of them for an expensive price.

This third one was no exception. 

Althea had offered him something ephemeral but more valuable than what money could buy: her help. 

It was subtle and cunning, as all Slytherins were, but she had sewed their fates together with a fine tread. Should the Dark Lord found out about Snape betrayal, Astoria’s neck would be chained the second she presented. Should Astoria ever present, Althea would sell him to the Death Eaters. A thin equilibrium between light blackmail and old amity. Severus admired her. 

So that was why he started preparing the potion as soon as he had returned from Lucius Malfoy’s party, without even checking his rooms, even though his Alpha’s need dragged him to the Omega in his chambers. He had stared at the portrait guarding his chambers, torn between whispering the password or getting down to work. 

But more than following his hormones - which he knew would take more then ten minutes his brain was hinting he just needed to check on the boy - he needed to start immediately on the concoction, so Snape had pried himself away from his closed door and had headed to his laboratory. If the girl was already presenting sings the Heat was gonna be in six months, a year at maximum. Severus needed the potion to be ready in the next three months to be sure she could take it by time. 

Organizing the ingredients, he set up on preparing a new batch every week for the following month and a half, just to be sure that if something went amiss the girl would still be safe.  

* * * 

Not a single object in the study was intact. 

Harry laid on the floor amongst the debris, looking at the ceiling. He felt empty, as he would if he had cried himself to sleep - except he hadn’t. 

He had had a magical outburst. 

As soon as he had been spat out of the Pensive Harry’s anger had taken over every residue of coherent thinking. He just couldn’t stop turning in his mind the last words out of Snape’s mouth - ‘What if I do?’, he had asked, and yes, what if he cared? He still had destroyed his life, he still was the culprit of everything wrong that had happened to him and yet here he was living his life, not paying for what he had done. 

His magic had resonated along with his pain and anger, palpitating under his skin, turbulent and ferocious, growing frustrated for a release the more Harry’s fury deepened. His righteous wrath had channeled into his veins and Harry could have tried to stop it but a wickedly thought in a corner of his mind had asked him “who cares?” and “doesn’t he deserve it?” so Harry had let go. 

He was not sure how it went, he was too wounded, too blinded by anger to remember anything except the feelings inside him, trashing his chest along with the room. He had felt dragged by sorrow and pulled by rage and crushed by impotence and pushed by vengefulness - until he had crumbled on the floor, drained.

He had stayed there, not even able to cry anymore, just looking at the coppery veins in the stones in the ceiling. 

Then he started to really think.

* * * 

Hermione Granger had expected people. She just hadn’t expected that many. 

Gryffindor’s Common Room had never been so much crowded. 

The Weasley Twins along with Ginny were in the front row and so was Neville and Seamus and Dean. Along with them, Lavander and Parvati were dividing a magically extended couch with Colin Creevey and his brother Danny. Almost the whole Gryffindor Tower was there, even some of the first year - out of curiosity more than for the cause. 

What she hadn’t expected was half of the school - mostly every student over the fourth year from Ravenclaw and some even younger from Hufflepuff - crumpled into too small red sofas waiting for her to speak. 

“Ok, I think… we - we can start… if all of you are here… then…” she faltered. This was too much, there were too many people. She had prepared a speech, but now it was gone from her mind and she was just blanking. It couldn’t work, she thought, a wave of panic rising in her chest. 

“You all know why we are here,” Ron said, helping her out. “We are here to rescue our friend, Harry Potter, and to reinstate him as a human being. Being an Omega doesn’t change who he is and what he has done and it shouldn’t mean his demoting as lesser than us. He still is our friends and we can’t let him been taken away.”

Ron paused. This was Hermione’s speech, she should be giving it, he had just read her notes a few hours before. But the girl nodded as encouragement and he went on. 

“I know today was our first day of class and we are already buried in homework and parchments to complete for next week, then there are the OWLs for our year, the NEWTs for some of you, the Quidditch, the House Cup and all of that, but… you all know Harry. And you all know he should be here alongside us, studying for his OWLs and feasting and playing Quidditch and - and preparing to fight He Who - Vo - Voldemort,” the whole crowd gasped, but Ron owned it to Harry to call him by his name. “Because he said as much and I believe him, no matter what the Prophet says. V - Voldemort is back, and he wants Harry. He needs to be prepared as best as possible, he needs it even more than he needs being in the care of some Alpha wizard - and ok, maybe now this is the best thing for him, but in the long term… we want him back. He belongs to Hogwarts.”

The sound of a bitter laugher - yes, maybe now this is the best thing for him, as if - was drowned in the cheering and clapping from the crowd. His brothers and sister were looking at him with a determined smile, with even more conviction than before. 

“Thank you” Hermione mouthed and Ron smiled sheepishly. 

“I just read your notes, it was all you, really.” 

After the cheering subsided - that was a too serious meeting for such displays of mirth - Hermione felt lighter. Maybe it wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. 

Getting to her feet, she reached a fire log that she had previously transfigurated into a blackboard. “Now, if any of you feels this is a little too much for them, you can go. We are not gonna judge you. To be honest I wasn’t expecting that many of you in the first place. But to those who want to stay, I welcome you to the first assembly of the H. O. L. A.” She wrote the acronym in big letters and, right under it, her name and the Weasleys. 

“Like the Spanish greeting?” asked a Ravenclaw boy. 

“No, it stands for Harry & Omega’s Liberation Army. If you want to join I’m gonna ask you to write your name under ours, then we are gonna do some brainstorming and organize teams to explore the different ideas -”

“Wasn’t there a better name than Hola? It doesn’t seem very professional to me” 

“Listen, mate,” Ron rolled his eyes “I don’t know who you are -”

“I’m Micheal Corner.”

“Well, Micheal, we know Hermione isn’t the best with names - her project last year was called Spew, ok? But she is trying. If it’s not professional we are gonna change it.” 

“Yeah, well, I think we really should.” 

Ron was about to curse the insufferable brat - and by the look on Ginny’s face and her hand on her wand, she was about to do the same - when a blonde Ravenclaw girl intervened. 

“Professional isn’t what matters the most”, she said, toying almost unconcerned with a radish dangling from her ear, “the O. C. A. has a very professional name and yet it’s crap.” 

“Oh please, Luna, now don’t start with the O. C. A. being owned by goblins or some of your conspiracy theories. Spare us. H. O. L. A. sucks and we should change it.”

Another bitter laugh and this time everyone heard it. 

“Do any of you really think this is the appropriate time to discuss the name of this organization?” A girl asked, and all faces turned to her. Her robes were green hemmed, and that set a suspicious glare in every person in the room. She - and the other girl by her side - were the only Slytherins after all. 

Even though what she had said was what everyone - except for Micheal Corner - was thinking, no one backed her up. 

“No offense, but Slytherins are not welcomed here,” Neville stuttered, a little embarrassed. 

“Why not?” She asked calmly, an amused smile tugging at her lips. 

“Because you are a bunch of Dark Wizards friends with He Who Must Not Be Named and you two are probably just here to find out were Harry is for your dark purposes,” a younger Gryffindor replied with conviction.

“My family has no ties with He Who Must Not Be Named, we are no spies.” 

“Yes, sure,” snorted George Weasley, “And who are you exactly?” 

“I’m Daphne Greengrass and this is my little sister, Astoria. We are here to help.” 

“And why would you want to help?” 

“I understand you are here to help your friend, Harry Potter. About that I don’t really care…” a murmuring rippled through the room, someone even booed, “he’s been sold to someone, true, and I understand why you are all so restless and eager to help him out, but… if Dumbledore says he’s safe, as he did at the Welcoming Feast, well, I’m inclined to think he is. However, I’ve also understood you are here to fight for Omega’s right in general -”

“Wait, ‘sold’?” Frowned Ginny, but her question was covered, by her brother’s snarl.

“And why would you care about a minority?” asked Fred. 

Daphne laughed. “I wouldn’t want to spoil this for you, but do you realize that Alpha and Omegas are pretty much always Purebloods? We are the people touched by this… curse. Yes, surely, being an Alpha is considered a privilege, but being an Omega should be considered as well. Omegas have as much power as Alphas, if not more, but they are either enslaved or castrated.”

“Wait a second,” Ginny shouted, trying to “what do you mean with ‘enslaved’?”

“What do you think I mean? Enslaved means enslaved. And to avoid being taken into the O. C. A. Pureblood families administer a castrating potion, the Locking Potion, but that also dampens the magical power as a collateral effect.” 

“But I thought that potion was a legend…” 

“So were thestrals before Newt Scamander registered them. But it’s not, the Locking Potion exists and…”

“So Harry could have been spared this?” Hermione looked shocked.

“If an Alpha with the appropriate knowledge had noticed the first signs of the presentation, yes. Unfortunately, he evidently lacked both an Alpha to notice his change and the connections to a Potioner with the knowledge to prepare the Locking Potion and willing to risk Azkaban to help him out.” Seeing the confusion in their faces she added: “It’s illegal to castrate an Omega.” 

“But why? I thought Omegas were dangerous. Wouldn’t castrating them eliminate the problem?” 

The mere thought brought indignation in Daphne, but before she could reply - a little less politely than she had tried to be during what felt like an interrogation more than a conversation - Luna Lovegood answered for her

“Because the Omega Care Association is a bunch of corrupted wizards, that just take funds from the Ministry to sustain useless Departments that get to really work once every hundred years and by work, they mean enslaving and selling a human being, act from which they obtain even more money. So castrating them would mean remove any form of income and the necessity of the own association. It was in the last month issue of the Quibbler.”

“That is not -” started a Ravenclaw girl, rolling her eyes 

“That is incredibly accurate for something taken out of the Quibbler,” Daphne looked at her with a surprised smile. 

“So this is what happened to Harry?” asked Seamus and suddenly every one quieted. “He has been sold to some Alpha?” 

Daphne nodded. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all Dumbledore himself is an Alpha, I’m sure your friend his safe.

“If Dumbledore is an Alpha , why didn’t he… help Harry?” asked Colin.

“Maybe he didn’t know?” suggested Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Or he couldn’t get the potion?” Hermione didn’t sound so sure. 

“With one of the best Potion Master teaching at school?” Asked Cho Chang, puzzled.  

“Castration shouldn’t be an option” Daphne interrupted them with indignant rage, “It’s the lesser evil, but no one should sacrifice a part of themselves just to stay alive. Would you renounce to your hand in exchange for your freedom? Probably yes, but is it fair to ask that? Should we really let that much magical potential go wasted because of some stupid barbaric law that hasn’t been updated since the Middle Age? They say Omegas are uncontrollable, that they would bring havoc and destroy if they are not controlled, but they have no proof of this. The only thing that I saw Harry Potter do is save the world.”There was a fire burning in her words, the righteous conviction of someone who had something to lose. “So now I don’t care if you don’t want me here just because of the colors of my robes, I’m staying.” 

She walked straight to the blackboard and, taking the chalk from Hermione’s hand, wrote his name. When didn’t need to look at her sister to know she was doing the right thing.