Standard disclaimer:
I don't own these characters, places, blah blah blah. I only
created the situation in this story. Don't sue me
because it's like squeezing water from a stone.
This is a repost of my first fanfic. I'm trying to clean up the
format. My lines are always messy and hard to read. It
is something that I would like to improve. Anyway, if you've
already read this, please ignore it, and I'm sorry for
unneccessrily taking up new title space. If you haven't read
this, please do. My new policy is: If you read and review my
stuff, I promise to read and review yours. I think it's a good
policy to follow.
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Harry sighed as he walked down the long empty passages of Hogwarts
school for witches and wizards. For quite
possibly the first time since he first got his letter of acceptance
from the strange school, Harry was bored. It was certainly
a new experience for him. Of course he had Lord Voldemort to
worry about. "You-know who", as everyone but a few
called him, had returned from hiding. His strength now renewed,
his followers reunited, one would think that this would
not be a dull time for the young wizard who had defeated him no less
than three times and had earned his wrath more than
any other living creature. But Harry could not be concerned about
that right now. He had something much more pressing
on his mind. He was bored.
It was winter break so very few students remained in the school.
Winter break also meant no Quiddich practice. Hermione
stayed at school for the holidays, but she was studying. Harry
had tried to get her out of her books but her only response
was "Mmm, go'way. 'N a minute. LATER!" Harry abandoned
his effort. Unfortunately his best friend Ron wasn't
speaking to him. They had gotten into an argument about Harry's
invisibility cloak. Harry had gotten much more cautious about
using it in recent times. Ron, on the other hand, was a little
more reckless. Harry refused to let Ron use it to sneak into Professor
Trelawney's office and replace her crystal ball with Zonko's All Purpose
Whoopee Globe. Ron was now sulkily devising new
ways to use his precious prank and not talking to Harry in the process.
Malfoy was still at school as well this year. He kept
mumbling about his father having business to attend. Harry, like
all the Gryffindors, was certain that Mr. Malfoy's "business"
had something to do with Lord Voldemort.
Harry took another turn and realized with a start that he was
not walking randomly down passageways, as he thought he was.
No, he was following something. He was following a scent.
He hadn't even realized it, he was so preoccupied with his boredom.
He smelled something similar to the grand hall at lunch time, but the
smell was not coming from anywhere near the great hall, or
the kitchen for that matter.
Freshly revived with curiosity, Harry concentrated hard on the
smell now. It was warm and wonderful and full of spices.
He took one turn and then another, doubled back several times, and
then realized with shock where the smell was coming from.
It was coming from the dungeons. What on earth could Snape be
doing in the dungeons? His potions always smelled of
century old pond scum and rotting leaches to Harry.
Not wanting to be caught by the potions teacher, but just itching
to see what was going on, Harry took off his shoes and quietly
made his way the rest of the way to Snape's office in his socks.
His door was opened just a crack and Harry could hear soft
music coming from it. Snape listens to music? Harry thought.
It was a piano concerto. It sounded sweet and romantic.
Harry's mind was spinning with possibilities that wouldn't resolve
themselves into one coherent thought. All he knew was that
whatever he was about to see would probably be shockingly un-Snape-like.
Could there be someone else in the office? Perhaps
he lent it out to a decent human being during winter break.
Stealing himself, Harry crept the last few steps to the door and
peered soundlessly through the crack. He saw his professor
busily moving from one cauldron to another and then back out of view.
That didn't seem too out of character, but he had a strange
sort of smile on his face and he seemed a lot more relaxed. Harry
watched for at least ten minutes, trying to figure out what
could possibly make the mean spirited teacher so happy. Perhaps
he was making a poison for all of the students on their return.
Still, he saw no change in Snape's behavior. He'd come into view,
add some ingredients to the pots in Harry's line of sight,
then wander off to do something else.
Suddenly, in the middle of this serene display, there was
an ear splitting sound that reminded Harry of the sound that a cat might
make when it's being swung by its tail towards a disgruntled werewolf.
Snape cursed and Harry jumped several feet in the air,
accidentally knocking into the door with his elbow. He grabbed
his elbow in pain and the glared at the offending door, only to see
that it had been pushed all the way open. What he saw was the
most surreal image Harry had ever seen in his life. There was Snape,
wearing oven mits that looked like smiling pigs and holding a pan of
steaming lasagna in one hand and a bowl of what looked like
oatmeal raising cookie dough in the other. The screeching oven
alarm was silent now and all Harry could hear was the beating of his
own heart and the ragged, furious breathing of Snape as he glared daggers
at the young wizard.
"I was gonna knock." Harry stammered. "I had a question...but the alarm...I got startled?" He finished lamely.
Snape's face shifted from red to purple to some shade of green
that Harry never knew existed. He's going to lob that
lasagna at me and then he's going to kill me. Harry worried.
Then something totally unexpected happened. The potion master's
face returned to its normal, pale gray complexion and his shoulders
sagged in resignation.
"Well, Potter, I don't want you spreading outlandish and malicious rumors, so you might as well come in."
Harry paused for a moment. He knew that it was probably
a bad idea to take the professor up on his offer. He'd probably get
turned into a cockroach before he got out of that office, but his curiosity
was at an all time high and if he were being truly honest,
the food smelled really inviting too. He quickly weighed the
options and then walked in. Hey, he had defeated Lord Voldemort
three times. He should be fine, right?
He looked around the office. Aside from the lasagna and
the cookie dough, there were several loaves of fresh bread cooling on
a counter, what looked like New England Clam Chowder simmering in one
cauldron, and home made tomato soup in the other.
Eeww. Thought Harry. I hope he cleaned those cauldron's
out before he started cooking in them.
"Cesura" Snape muttered and the music stopped playing.
Harry was still looking around the office wildly. What was
going on? Harry had to find an explanation. What if he was
right
earlier? What if Snape was planing to poison someone. Dumbledore
was always very trusting. He would be delighted to indulge
in some of this food if it was left as a gift in front of his office.
Harry's mind started reeling at the idea. He looked at Snape in
horror.
"You're going to poison the headmaster!" He shrieked half
hysterical. "That's what this is all about. What did you put
in it?!"
Snape looked honestly shocked. For a moment he just stared
at the boy in front of him, his mouth hanging open. Then his senses
returned to him.
"You what? You think I'm...oh for God's sake! You honestly believe...POISON THE HEADMASTER?"
For a second, Harry thought Snape's face was going to break out
in another impressive display of the color spectrum, but he
was surprised once again that evening. Snape let out the loudest
most hearty laugh that Harry had heard from any of the professors
at Hogwarts. This time it was Harry's turn to stare, slack jawed.
He was certain that Snape would be rolling on the ground, if it
weren't for the fact that he was still holding the two dishes in those
ridiculous oven mits. Instead, he just collapsed in the nearest
chair and continued to laugh with tears rolling down his face.
It took nearly five minutes for Snape to calm down enough to speak.
By then his face was beat red, tear streaked and mirthful, a
combination that looked truly out of place on the usually sour teacher.
He stood and walked over to the nearest counter and placed
the lasagna and cookie dough down carefully. Then he took the
oven mits off and sat down again.
"Mr. Potter," He began, laughter still evident in his voice.
"The headmaster has no need to worry about being poisoned by me
or my cooking. In fact, he usually enjoys it on a regular basis."
Harry stood there like an idiot, still too confused to speak. When he said nothing, Snape continued.
"Mr. Potter, I cook for enjoyment. There's nothing more
to it. I know it's a muggle pastime, and highly distasteful
for a
wizard, but there you have it. Some of the professors know...Dumbledore..."
His voice trailed off. After a long pause with
both student and teacher glaring at each other, Harry finally spoke.
"Why cooking? I mean, no disrespect or anything but..."
His eyes were full of curiosity.
"Is it really all that surprising? Cooking isn't all that
different from potions. They're both an art of combinations, proportions
and timing." Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes in
disgust.
They regarded each other once again. "I can't believe we're
having this conversation." They said in unison. That said,
Snape
seemed to come to a decision.
"All right Potter, I think that it's time for you to leave now." The humor had vanished from his voice once again.
Harry began to leave, but Snape grabbed him roughly by his shoulder
and growled out "And if you tell your friends Weasley
or Granger about this you'll be in detention so long that Voldemort
himself will forget who you are. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir." Harry rushed out of the dungeons with his shoes
still in hand.
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Several weeks later, school started and the Gryffindor tower was
once again full of commotion. Harry, Hermione and
Ron were all sitting together discussing their next Hogsmead visit
when Harry suddenly became distracted by something
on the other side of the common room. Harry interrupted Ron in
mid sentence and shouted out "Hey Neville! Have I
got a story for you!"
He then rushed over to the shy boy and began talking to him in a low whisper.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked a little annoyed.
"I have no idea." Hermione responded, her attention focused
back on Ron. "Anyway, you were saying?"
THE END
I hope everyone enjoyed. Please review since this is my first
fanfic and I'd like some feedback. If you want to flame me,
that's fine as long as the flame is funnier, and better written than
my story. I can't stand neanderthal flames like "It sucked"
or "Bad grammar" or "Fire good, fanfic bad". If you liked it
, I'll try to write more. If you didn't, I'll try to write better.
Thanks *^-^*
Byrdgirl