Chapter 2

As he woke the following morning, Harry was pleased to note that he had not, for once, experienced his recurring dream. Instead, he had had a most pleasant sleep, and hoped to follow it up with an excellent breakfast. He was not disappointed: his bacon and eggs were quite as good as usual, and he found it oddly relaxing to eat them alone in the comfort of the Common Room. The House Elves had made sure to lay him out a diverse spread, and he regretted not being able to finish it all. The tight waistband on his jeans, however, forced him to rise from his seat and head outdoors.

Sunlight pooled in from the windows lining the hallways. His mood soaring, Harry quickly ran back to the dormitory to fetch his broomstick. He was planning on winning the House Cup next year, given that it would be his second last at Hogwarts, and he realized that he would have unlimited opportunities to practice during the summer now. He had nearly reached the pitch when to his amazement he saw Snape approaching him.

"Professor?" he asked, surprised at seeing the Potions Master outside of the school.

"Potter," was the unpleasant yet not unexpected reply.

Harry made to continue on his way, as he could think of no polite way of asking why Snape was outdoors. He need not have worried; he was spared the trouble as his professor held up two brown bags.

"Herbs, for the Hospital Wing," he said. Scoffing, he then continued, "though I can't imagine why this would interest you in any way."

There was a pause, during which he eyed Harry's broom with obvious disdain. "Going to practice, are you?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Well," Snape wrapped his cloaks around him and began to depart. "I daresay you'll need much practice if you expect to beat Slytherin this year."

This comment was so typical of the Slytherin Head of House that Harry could not help but smile slightly as he watched him retreat to the castle.

When he first kicked off and shot into the air, Harry's worries and fears melted away. Any unhappiness that he had felt recently became nonexistent as he flew around the pitch, feeling the wind sweep through his hair and sting his eyes. Though he was a bit rusty from not having played recently, he quickly fell back to his usual standards and before long he was practicing Wronski Feints. It wasn't until his stomach growled angrily that he realized that he had missed lunch. Sweaty and sticky yet highly content, he made his way back to the Common Room where delicious sandwiches and lemonade were waiting for him.

The rest of the month continued like this, until he became quite tanned. He also noticed that he was becoming thinner. For the first time in his life, Harry had been gaining weight, due to excess eating from stress. This fat was now being replaced with muscle, and he was quite pleased with his appearance.

He was busy looking over his Charms homework when he heard someone enter the Common Room. Craning his neck, he saw Dobby the House Elf coming towards him eagerly.

"Dobby," he greeted. "How are you?"

"Harry Potter, sir!" he cried. "Dobby is most pleased to see that Harry Potter is doing well, for Dobby heard that he was in grave danger."

"When am I not?" he asked. "Anyway, it's safe at Hogwarts, so I wouldn't worry if I were you." He paused, then said hurriedly, "Or try to help me, for that matter."

"Dobby promised that he would not help Harry Potter unless he had permission," he sighed. "Though he does wonder if that was a wise choice."

Noticing a letter in Dobby's hand, Harry said, "What's that you've got?"

"Ah, yes!" the House Elf gasped. "Dobby was nearly forgetting! Dobby will have to shut his fingers in the door later, certainly."

"That won't be necessary," said Harry as he took the letter.

"Dobby must be leaving, but hopefully Harry Potter will come visit the House Elves when he can!"

"Of course I will." Harry smiled.

Bowing, Dobby retreated, leaving Harry to his letter, which read:

Mr. Potter,

Professor Dumbledore has brought to my attention the fact that it would be wise to have you take Potions lessons this summer, given your usual abysmal grades in my class. Perhaps extra tutoring shall help improve your grade next year and prevent you from having to retake the class again. If you are interested, come to my chambers tomorrow at 6 PM.

Professor Snape.

Harry sighed. He could not, of course, refuse. His Potions marks were terrible, and if he wanted to become an Auror, he would have to greatly improve. That his summer bliss would have to be interrupted by sessions with the unpleasant Potions Master, however, did little to excite him. It was therefore with a definite glumness that Harry made his way into the dungeon the next day.

"Potter," said Snape as he opened his door to grant Harry entrance. "Professor Dumbledore has taken the liberty of purchasing for you your school supplies, and so I have here your textbook. Kindly set up a cauldron on one of the desks, and I must insist, do not touch anything."

Nodding, Harry set up his station then waited as the Potions Master swept over his textbook, sneering or frowning occasionally. When he looked up and saw that Harry was done, he stepped towards him and handed him the book.

"Page 68," he said. "See what you can make of it. You have one hour."

Not expecting further instructions, he flipped to the page in question. According to the title, the potion was called Lux Lucis. Further reading revealed that it created a temporary light that could be carried in a bottle for an unlimited amount of time. It was also handy in that with a simple incantation the light could be shut off.

The ingredients and directions were fairly simple, and before long Harry had a golden vapour rising from his cauldron, as the textbook said that he should. With ten minutes left, he stirred the mix tentatively. It was not as thick as the book said that it probably should be, but it was one of his better potion efforts. He attributed this largely to the fact that Snape had not been hovering over him and whispering insults. In fact, he hadn't been present for the entire hour. As Harry took care of his fire and poured some of his potion into a flask, however, Snape stepped into the room. He seemed to be very tired.

He was silent as he took the flask and eyed it suspiciously. He smelled the cauldron, then pulled out his wand. With a flick, he turned off the lights. It became very dark in the small room, and yet the potion glowed strongly. Harry felt a surge of pride.

"A bit runny," Snape said coldly. "And yet a rather decent attempt, Potter."

Harry looked into his face defiantly. He knew that he had done an excellent job, and Snape's lack of the usual insults seemed to prove it. He frowned at his professor's face, illuminated by the golden potion. Snape stared back, until Harry blushed and forced himself to look at the ground. Snape suddenly turned back on the lights. Without sparing him another glance, he set the flask next to Harry's cauldron. Picking up his books, he said with little emotion, "We will meet again next week." He then left Harry to clean up his things.