Hmmm... I'm spewing out a few updates in the next week or so... I hope you guys like this one, I've been thinking about it for as long as I have been with 'Are We The Waiting?'. So sorry to you people that have waited a long time, and any people who've just joined me... I love you just as much, lol. Anyways, on with the ficcie!
A/N: I'm not totally sure if this has been done before, but whatever. I hope you all like it.
Summary: When Harry Potter hears the words 'potions' and 'class' together, he'd say 'Oh, hell.' When Harry Potter hears the words 'Snape' and 'detention' together, he'd say 'Kill me.' What does Harry Potter say when he hears 'Potter' and 'accident'?
Harry Potter was not pleased. In fact, he was pissed. And so was Ron and any other Gryffindor 6th year, minus Hermione. Now, why might they be pissed? The simple words 'Potions' and 'First Period', may ring a bell.
It was a dreary Monday morning at the Gryffindor table. The sun may have been out, but no one dared look up or outside, for fear of becoming late for First Period Potions. First Period Double Potions. Harry glanced at his watch warily, and it was already 7:57 AM. He almost screamed in fright, but opted for a horrified squeak instead and yelled a warning to his fellow house mates before hightailing it out of the Great Hall and down to the Dungeons, dodging lost First Years and confused Hufflepuff Prefects that yelled 'No running!'
He skidded to a stop just outside the doorway to Hell and took no pause for breath, rushing into the classroom red-faced and out of breath. Checking his watching, the boy looked relieved to see that it was only 7:59 AM. Harry then looked around and saw that the classroom was empty and was, naturally, confused. But then he caught sight of the classroom clock. 7:39 AM.
"Oh, god..." Harry groaned and he let his head drop onto the steel work surface. Staying like that for a minute, he decided to set up what he needed for the two... long... hours... And he just had to come early. "Oh, god."
Setting his watch to prevent any future mistakes he might make, Harry Potter proceeded with his self pity and silent sulking and started to get his textbook out of his stuffed bag, opening it to where he had placed his essay. He took it out and put it in the floating hand-in box that had zoomed to his side. It hummed what he had always thought was a 'Thank You', a vast contrast to the impolite ass that owned it.
Harry checked his watch once again. 7:44.
"Fates have mercy on me..." he muttered. The teen set out a clean piece of parchment and his quill, ready to take note of whatever Snape would set out for them that day. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the table, absently drumming a beat he had once heard on Dudley's radio.
The next few minutes seemed like centuries for Harry. He fidgeted and switched positions multiple times, making it seem like he was constipated and something had crawled into his boxers. Harry played with the long bangs he had grown over the summer to hide his scar, trying to braid a few strands but stopped as soon as he realized that what he was doing was a little more than slightly girly. He checked his watch again.
7:50...
He stared at the black clock face and the silver numbers that circled the edge, watching the second hand as it ticked off another minute, almost mesmerized by the simple tick that was now resounding through his... what was it called again? Harry couldn't remember, he was too lost now. Who knew? 13 minutes alone and Harry bloody Potter goes loony!
The boy laughed slightly at how easy it would have been for Voldemort to defeat him. Stick him in a room with a pretty clock face for 13 minutes and he would get lost in the resounding tick tocks of the countings of time. His amusement was cut short, however, as the solid oak door of the Potions Lab slammed open.
Poor Harry had fallen out of his stool at the sudden noise.
A drawled voice followed Harry's sudden crash into the paved floor. "Well, well, well... What do we have here?"
'Well, it's obvious, moron,' Harry thought, 'I got here earlier than you and almost went insane! Then I fell out of my fucking chair because of you!' He huffed at the humiliation and got up slowly, wincing as he hit his head on a bruised shoulder. (Don't ask me how this is possible, it just is, okay?)
"Potter's fell off his chair a bit early, hasn't he? Isn't he supposed to do that when he's actually working on an assignment? Whassa matter, Potty? Did you actually think that coming early would make you not have detention?" Malfoy's voice mused smugly. The tall blonde laughed to himself for a few seconds and continued to his usual seat in the front of the room.
Harry could almost hear his smirk. It was absolutely sickening! Draco Malfoy and his sickening voice... sexy... voice... Sickeningly sexy voice...
'Oh god! The clock really has made me mental!' Harry screamed to himself. He decided that slapping himself in the face would be something good to do, so he started whacking his head like he had water in his ear.
Luckily, his moment of insanity was interrupted at the bell signaling for classes to start rung. Harry sighed in relief as he saw Ron and Hermione rush in with a wave of chattering students, they themselves having a lovers spat. He waved them over, and Hermione, who was the only one of the two that had seen him, dragged Ron over to the table Harry had picked. It was at the edge of the classroom, just two rows from the back.
Soon after the last student, a Hufflepuff, scrambled in, the bat's ass that was, unfortunately, their professor swished in, looking to his Slytherins with a smirk and the Gryffindors with menacing scowls. Neville shrunk into his seat as the black-clad professor passed by him.
"Today, class," Snape drawled, "We will be making Pepperup potion. The infirmary stores have gone down recently," Snape glared at Harry, "and Madame Pomfrey needs more stock. This will only take one hour, so Professor Dumbledore has kindly shorted your... double... period to one hour. You will be working in assigned partners, as I do not trust any of you to work on your own. I will be picking for you, of course."
Here, all of the class groaned. No one wanted to be stuck with anyone in the opposite house.
"Malfoy, Longbottom. Weasley, Patil. Zabini and Parkinson, Goyle and Brown. Finnigan, Crabbe. Thomas and Greengrass and lastly, Granger and... Potter," Snape said the last name with malice. "Begin." The man flicked his wand at the empty black board, ingredients and instructions appeared quickly, letter by letter.
The class scattered and switched seats accordingly to their parters, not wanting to upset the irritable professor.
"Harry, do you have your potions kit with you? Mine ran out a few days ago when I was brewing that Pepperup potion for that poor first year..." Hermione said, scribbling onto Harry's already set out parchment. She seemed slightly flustered, Harry noted. Hermione was almost always prepared.
'Must be that time of the month she told me about last week... Wonder if she told Ron...' Harry thought casually. 'Pity him if she hasn't.' He handed her his kit and started to boil the water to a slow simmer, watching as Hermione noted everything carefully.
The elder girl waited one minute before placing the first ingredient in, and instructed Harry to slowly stir clockwise. She continued with this, instructing Harry every now and then with what to do and they were done withing 40 minutes. The two bottled the potion carefully and a Hand-Me-In crate zoomed towards them. They set them at the bottom and it zoomed off with a hummed 'Thank you. You may leave now.'
Snape gave the 16 year old Gryffindor an odd look, reminding Harry of what had happened the previous year. It hit his heart with a painful sting to remember that because Harry had neglected practicing Occlumency that Sirius had died. He still felt that it was his fault, but he kept that behind him. It was the past, and it couldn't be changed.
Harry and Hermione stood up, as well as a few other students and left the classroom, opting to head to the library to prepare for their next class, Charms. The resident librarian, Madame Pince, nodded towards the two quiet students as they headed towards their usual study table. Lately, Harry had been more reserved, and preferred to stay inside with Hermione. Ron, as Hermione would usually say, had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, and would never understand most of what was going through in his mind. It had always been like this, ever since... Well, you know.
The younger of the two started to doodle on a scrap piece of parchment that he had found lying on the floor as Hermione started to shuffled around her book bag, searching for her Charms notebook. She blew her bushy hair out of her eyes as she realized that she had forgotten it. Addressing the doodling boy, she said, "Harry, do you remember the Charm that Professor Flitwick told us we'd be studying this week? I seem to have forgotten my notes in the dorm..."
Harry looked up from his doodle of Hermione's intricately carved wand, which he practically obsessed over as much as his own, and nodded. He dug into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of lined paper, which Hermione had ripped out of her Muggle notebook when he had run out of parchment. Harry handed it to her and she unfolded it, letting out a polite 'thanks' before writing out the charm on her own piece of paper.
"I'll be right back," she said, and headed off to the Charms section of the library. Hermione came back in a few minutes, holding a book entitled 'Charms to Mind.' She skimmed the pages until she found what she was looking for. The girl motioned for Harry to come closer, and they read the page together.
PATEFACIO SENTENTIA
The Patefacio SententiaCharm, also called 'The Charm of Open Minds', is a simple charm that allows whomever casts it to see within their target's mind. It lets them see how they are feeling at that moment, and it also allows the caster to skim the freshest thoughts in the target's head.
The spell was created in 1856 by Valentina Devout, Head Healer of St. Beauxbaton's Institut de Remède, in order to solve the mysterious streak of serial killings that was massacring the French Wizarding population. Patefacio Sententia was normally used within hospitals upon victims of attempted murder, assault or rape that are incapable of speaking or those that have decline to co-operate. Some argued that the spell invaded the patient or target's mind to the extent of breaking their minds piece by piece, so the spell was discontinued in that type of medical practice in 1936. It is still, however, is used with patients that are severely depressed because it could prevent suicide.
"Hmmm... It seems interesting. Harry, would you be my parter for class?" Hermione asked, studying the diagram that showed the wand movement. She used her finger to practice.
Flicked up twice and swished it to the right, then made a tapping motion towards an imaginary head.
"Yeah, sure. I don't think I could trust anyone else. It's just way too personal," Harry answered. His mood had shifted drastically as soon as Potions started, and he felt like the world had exploded into his face. This had been happening a lot.
"You know you have us, Harry. All you need to do is ask," Hermione said. "Oh! Before I forget, here's the Draught of Emotional Balance that you asked for. I managed to get the instructions from Madame Pomphrey. One sip every 2 hours, okay?" She handed it to a nodding Harry a clear flask that had a calm lavender liquid in it.
Harry unscrewed the top carefully and took a small sip. It tasted like grapes. He placed the flask into a cushioned pocket in his book bag with his quill set and felt calm and rejuvenated.
"It's part of the process," Hermione explained. "We better get to Charms. Where on Earth is Ron?!"
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and they rushed through the crowds of blue, green, yellow and red.
She didn't notice that there was one last line on the Patefacio Sententia page that she hadn't read as they left for Charms.
WARNING: THIS SPELL SHOULD NEVER BE USED AFTER TAKING THE DRAUGHT OF EMOTIONAL BALANCE. BOTH RELATE TO SAME AREA OF THE MIND, BUT WITH CONFLICTING EFFECTS AND COULD POTENTIALLY SPLIT A PERSON'S MIND IN HALF.