New story! Tell us what you think. We don't own anything.

-Dante Pierre

Harry was sitting in his eighth year potions class, trying to get the right amount of flippin' lacewings measured out for his polyjuice potion. After the defeat of Lord Voldemort, a lot of the seventh year students had come back into what had been named the "Eighth Year" to finish their education. It was the first and probably last year there would be an eighth year.

Snape was currently breathing down Harry's neck, making an annoyed hissing sound every time Harry added just a little too much lacewing to his little measured-out pile. It was driving Harry insane. He willed the greasy git away and finally, after what seemed like a millenium, Snape let out one more agitated hiss and turned away to go torment some other student.

Fifteen minutes later Harry's potion was finally done and a sample was neatly put in a little bottle for hand-in. Quickly looking around the room, he found that almost everyone had the same result as him. Almost everyone. Hermione's and Malfoy's were perfect as usual, but Neville's on the other hand was just plain screwy. It was too thin with odd lumps floating about in it. Snape looked pleased as a child on Christmas morning when he saw how Neville's potion had turned out.

"Longbottom, what, pray tell me, is that?" He enquired.

"Umm, it's the Polyjuice potion, sir." Neville replied.

"Is that so. You'll have to prove that, Longbottom."

"P-prove it?" Neville asked nervously.

"Yes, are you daft? I'd like you to add some of Granger's hair to your... potion and test it out." Snape answered with a hint of glee in his voice.

"Test it? You want me to test it, sir?" By this point the whole class had gathered to see what was going on and Harry started to feel worried.

"Yes, you sodding idiot! Test it! Now!" Hermione gave him a sad look before plucking out one of her hairs and handing it to Neville. Shakily, Neville uncorked his bottle and slip Hermione's hair inside. The potion bubbled and hissed, spurting liquid up and out of the bottle. Snape raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly. Neville looked up at the Potion's Master, then back down at the now sea green, lumpy, foamy liquid and swallowed. Harry watched as Neville slowly raised the bottle to his lips with his eyes squeezed shut and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, come on. That could kill him! You can't just make him take it because you feel like inflicting misery on others!" He blurted out. Snape looked at him.

"Yes, Potter, I can and I am. Unless you would like to volunteer, Longbottom will take that concoction." Harry knew what he had to do.

"Fine. Then I volunteer for this shit." Harry thought his usually sour professor could not look any happier, but he was wrong. Snape face turned into one of pure joy. Harry knew he was doomed. Hermione started to protest and Ron looked like he wanted to smack Snape so hard that the force of the blow would make the potion's master's stupid face apparate and leave the rest of the git's body behind. Nevertheless, Harry walked up to Neville, who was now looking at Harry with a newfound adoration, and grabbed the potion form his hands. He looked at it for a moment, sighed and downed the whole thing in own gulp. The bottle dropped from his hands and shattered on the floor as Harry doubled over in pain. Hermoine rushed over to try and steady him, but she was too late. Harry fell to the ground, convulsing, as the air in his lungs left him and he was gasping for breaths. Pure pain coursed through his body and only the fact that he had no more air in him stopped him from screaming out. The class stared in horrid fascination as Harry shrunk and turned browny-green. Even Snape looked slightly less happy. Hermoine was yelling Harry's name, not want to touch him lest she hurt him, and Ron was screaming bloody murder at Snape. Finally the pain left and Harry could breath again. He noticed an odd weight on his back and opened his eyes to find himself staring at someone's shoes. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. The room was dead silent. And then all Hell broke loose.

Cries of, "He's a fucking turtle!", "At least he didn't turn into that Muggle girl, Miley Cyrus!" and, "Oh Merlin, someone bloody help him!", where the only things to be heard as everyone panicked.

"That explains the extra weight." Harry thought.

He then whispered, to frantic Hermione's horror, "Well, that settles it, next time Neville can take his own potion."