Harry stared longingly at the pale sun, the light of which barely
penetrated the cold, dank, potions classroom. It was early September, and
the hot summer weather had continued into the start of the autumn term, the
air was humid and warm, making Harry lethargic and drowsy. He battled to
stay awake, imagining the foul punishments which Snape, his potions
teachers, would no doubt have in store for him should he so much as blink
for too long. Term had begun just three days ago, and Harry, along with all
of the other students at Hogwarts, was settling down to another year of
lessons. His holiday had been eventful, though not quite as much as the
term which had preceded them. He recounted with horror the sight of Cedric
lying dead after the Triwizard tournament and how Voldemort had looked
before he had been restored to power. He shuddered to think how close he
had come to suffering the same fate as his parents. Still, if losing so
many people close to him had taught him anything, it was to look to the
future. This he tried to do. It was hard to imagine a life outside
Hogwarts, anywhere other than Privet Drive. He didn't doubt for one moment
that as soon as he was old enough he would be turfed out onto the streets.
He had outstayed his welcome even before he arrived there. He wondered what
the Dursley's would say if he asked for support to drag him through
college? He half-shuddered, half-laughed at the expression he imagined on
his Uncle Dursley's face, as he added sliced liver of mantacor to a vial of
dragon blood. His snigger had alerted the attention of Professor Snape as
he swept towards Harry, robes flailing behind him, his greasy hair
remaining plastered to his face.
"Tell me, Potter, what you could possibly find amusing about this antidote? Are you, perhaps, somehow entertained by the notion of a Witch or Wizard who has been hexed with such severity that this" he growled, swilling round the vial of thin, blue liquid, (which, Harry noticed, was a lot less... orange than the potion in the bottles of his classmates) "is the only chance you have of ever walking again"
Harry had to admit that he was not entertained by the idea at all, and so he drained the potion and began again, day dreaming less, to create a new potion, under the watchful eye of Snape. He heard Draco Malfoy sniggering behind him.
If the incidents of last year, which had seen Cedric Diggory dead, Professor Moody (the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher) kidnapped, imprisoned and kept barely alive for 10 months, the whole Rita Skeeter incident which resulted in Hermione's receiving several hundred howlers and hexes from the public, and several hundred more sly remarks from Malfoy, and, more importantly, the resurrection of Voldemort, had had any beneficial results, it was that Professor Snape was slightly less vindictive in his approach to Harry. At first, Harry found that slightly worrying, but now Snape and his Godfather, Sirius, had come to an agreement of sorts to be less hostile, Harry found himself hating Snape a lot less, and guessed, as he had not yet lost a single point from Gryffindor, that Snape was seeing him in a new light too. He didn't even fall victim to extra homework, snide remarks or the disgusting prospect of preparing ingredients for the following lesson as he ran out of the classroom and headed for the North Tower, where his Divination lessons with Ron occurred.
This was a worrying time for the Magical community, most of whom were sickeningly worried about the return of Voldemort. Even Professor Trelawney had finally realised that it was probably not the time to be predicting the death of anyone in Divination classes at the moment, and instead contented herself with warning Harry that a nasty bout of flu was more than likely to keep him out of lessons for a couple of days. Harry had preferred it when she had been predicting his death, at least it gave him and Ron something to laugh about as they forced themselves to stay awake through lessons in that stuffy classroom. Divination was last lesson that day, and so Harry and Ron ran to meet Hermione from Arithmancy in order for them to finish recounting their holidays.
"Tell me, Potter, what you could possibly find amusing about this antidote? Are you, perhaps, somehow entertained by the notion of a Witch or Wizard who has been hexed with such severity that this" he growled, swilling round the vial of thin, blue liquid, (which, Harry noticed, was a lot less... orange than the potion in the bottles of his classmates) "is the only chance you have of ever walking again"
Harry had to admit that he was not entertained by the idea at all, and so he drained the potion and began again, day dreaming less, to create a new potion, under the watchful eye of Snape. He heard Draco Malfoy sniggering behind him.
If the incidents of last year, which had seen Cedric Diggory dead, Professor Moody (the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher) kidnapped, imprisoned and kept barely alive for 10 months, the whole Rita Skeeter incident which resulted in Hermione's receiving several hundred howlers and hexes from the public, and several hundred more sly remarks from Malfoy, and, more importantly, the resurrection of Voldemort, had had any beneficial results, it was that Professor Snape was slightly less vindictive in his approach to Harry. At first, Harry found that slightly worrying, but now Snape and his Godfather, Sirius, had come to an agreement of sorts to be less hostile, Harry found himself hating Snape a lot less, and guessed, as he had not yet lost a single point from Gryffindor, that Snape was seeing him in a new light too. He didn't even fall victim to extra homework, snide remarks or the disgusting prospect of preparing ingredients for the following lesson as he ran out of the classroom and headed for the North Tower, where his Divination lessons with Ron occurred.
This was a worrying time for the Magical community, most of whom were sickeningly worried about the return of Voldemort. Even Professor Trelawney had finally realised that it was probably not the time to be predicting the death of anyone in Divination classes at the moment, and instead contented herself with warning Harry that a nasty bout of flu was more than likely to keep him out of lessons for a couple of days. Harry had preferred it when she had been predicting his death, at least it gave him and Ron something to laugh about as they forced themselves to stay awake through lessons in that stuffy classroom. Divination was last lesson that day, and so Harry and Ron ran to meet Hermione from Arithmancy in order for them to finish recounting their holidays.