Alright, Chapter Two! Sorry for the short first chapter, but I didn't feel too motivated to go word for word into the sorting, so I skipped most of it. The potion's class will, of course, be in more detail, so this chapter is pretty long. What drama can ensue?

Disclaimer: I own no part of this except Charity Lily Marks... If I did, there'd be more than seven books... It'd never end! MWAHAHAHAHA! :) But, alas, I do not own it... if only, if only, right? :) All else belongs to J.K. Rowling (lucky woman .)

~GharrahGirl

This is it! My first real potions lesson with my dad. I smile and walk in, sitting down away from most of the rest. I haven't clicked well with Pansy and Millicent, but I know I have to eventually. They're my fellow Snakes, after all.

I'm brought out of my silent musings when a boy with a familiar mop of black hair and very familiar blazing bright green eyes sits down next to me. A fellow Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair sits on his other side. He gives a small smile before flinching slightly with the rest of us as Dad walks into the room, slamming open the door.I raise a brow at the sudden, an slightly intimidating, entrance.

"There'll be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. Many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even to put a stopper in death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I purse my lips at the welcoming speech. He isn't being very supportive of his other students like he is back home when he's giving me lessons. He raises a single eyebrow at Harry, whom I glance at to see him taking notes.

"Potter!"

Harry startles and looks up.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Okay, I know that's not fair of Father to do this. There's just no way Harry would know this, yet. It's our first potions class. I give Father a harsh glance, but he brushes me off, his eyes boring into Harry's, who hesitates. Father completely ignores the Gryffindor girl whose hand is high in the air, her eyes begging him to let her prove her lack of dunderheadness.

"I don't know, sir," Harry says.

Father's lips curl into a sneer, and I frown. What grudge could Father have with an eleven year old boy on the first day in his class?

"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything, is it Mr. Potter? Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretches her hand as far as she can, but Father still ignores her.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry's eyes didn't leave Father's, which impressive for a first year. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione finally stands up, her hand still high.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

I grimace as Father's face darkens.

"Sit down," he snaps at Hermione, "Charity, kindly tell Potter the answers to my previous questions. Now!"

I frown at his attitude and cross my arms over my chest, glaring into his eyes to let him know my displeasure at his attitude.

"Asphodel and wormwood make the Draught of Living Death, an extremely powerful sleeping potion. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same, and they are also known as aconite."

"Good, five points to Slytherin," he says to me before turning to the class, "Well? Why aren't you copying that down?"

Everyone except me starts to copy it down.

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

He looks around.

"It seems we have an uneven amount of students this year. Charity, you have the pleasure of being with Weasley and Potter," he says, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm.

It makes me purse my lips further, but I comply silently. I'll have to speak with him later.

I sit on Harry's other side as Father comments on Malfoy's perfect stewing of his horned slugs. Then, a loud hissing fills the room while acid green clouds of smoke spread quickly, disturbing our sight. I see a Gryffindor boy moan in pain as the potion that had burned through his partner's cauldron spilled over and covered him as well with the floor, making us pull our feet up to avoid it. Angry boils spring up all over his legs and arms, and I look on with concern.

"Idiot boy!" Father yells as he clears the potion and smoke with a wave of his wand.

"I suppose you added the porcupine quills before the cauldron was off of the fire?"

The boy only whimpers as more boils start to pop up on his nose as well.

"Take him to the hospital wing," Father spits at the other Gryffindor partnered to the poor boy on the floor.

Then, he rounds on our table.

"Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry opens his mouth to argue, and Ron kicks him as I put my hand over his mouth, glaring harshly at Father.

"Don't push it. I've heard Snape can get nasty," Ron mutters.

I remove my hand from Harry's mouth and clear my throat promptly. Father turns back to me, and eyebrow raised.

"Sir," I say, lacing my voice with cold anger, "Did you yourself not say when sorting us into pairs that we are responsible for our cauldrons, and our cauldrons only? Surely you cannot expect any of us to watch our classmates' cauldrons as well. If that is so, then why not yell at Draco and Vincent, who sit directly next to the Gryffindors? Why not yell at-"

"Silence, you insolent girl," he snaps angrily.

My jaw drops slightly in hurt at his tone, but my jaw quickly clenches in anger, and I glare at him.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. I'll not sit here and watch you blame Harry for another students mistake!"

"Harry, is it? I'll see you after class, Charity."

I huff angrily.

"Give me as many detentions as you wish, but I'll not quiet my opinion. You're being completely unfair, and I believe-"

"Would you hush up, Child! I will not stand by and be lectured by my own student!"

My eyes prickle with the threat of tears.

"No, you'd rather yell at your own daughter for no reason!"

With that, I push my chair back and stand to leave.

"My office. Now."

I stalk past him angrily, slamming his office door behind me. I pace angrily until he comes in a minute or so later, also slamming the door.

"What is this!?"

"What is it!? It's me standing up for an innocent boy! Harry did nothing wrong, and you blame him for nothing! He's done nothing wrong!"

"He had the nerve to not pay attention in my class!"

"He was taking notes!"

"I don't want to hear your lies!"

I stay quiet, panting heavily, out of breath from my shouting. My cold, narrowed eyes never leave his, though they prickle with tears. I know my hurt is shining on my face, and he finally sighs.

"Charity-"

I clench my jaw in anger, hiding behind a mask of cool, dangerous anger.

"Don't talk to me," I spit as I walk past him, slamming his office door once more, and go back to my seat.

I notice the rest of the class staring at me in surprise, but I swiftly ignore them and start to work on the potion once more. Father comes out, but he says nothing and merely sits at his desk, scratching his quill angrily across some poor student's essay from a higher year. Harry looks at me questioningly, but I keep my prickling eyes firmly on the cauldron. My hands are shaking with the effort it takes to keep my hurt from showing to the class, and it causes a mistake. I toss in a batch of beetle eyes in without crushing them. The cauldron bubbles dangerously, and Ron and Harry back up. They duck as I hide my face when the cauldron explodes, coating me in the messed up potion. I hiss in a pained breath as it makes my skin bubble. It takes mere moments for blood to start seeping through my pores, drawn out from the messed up potion. Father stands, his eyes wide, but I only back up.

"Potter, take her to the Hospital Wing," he spits angrily, turning to clear up the potion.

Harry nods and gently takes my arm as I shut my eyes tight.

"Why are your eyes closed?" he finally asks after a bit of silence.

"They'll get damaged from the potion leaking into them."

"Thanks," he says softly, almost to low for me to hear, after another pause of silence.

"For what?"

"For sticking up to Snape like that. Is he really your dad?"

I nod, feeling the hurt come back tenfold. Why'd he not believe me? I am his daughter! I've never lied to him before! Why would I start now!? What had I done to lose his trust so quickly? Once again, I feel my eyes prickling with the threat of tears, but I am determined not to cry over this.

Well, there's chapter two... If only I truly owned HP so I could just write more books! I shall miss the series... Which, of course, is why I'm writing this fanfic, lol :P

~GharrahGirl