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Chapter 10

The Potions Classroom

The Potions classroom was located in the dungeons, unlike the rest of their classes so far. It was the coldest classroom by far and also the closest to Cosette's common room. The stone walls and floor caused even the quietest of whispers to echo and even though they were under the lake, the area permeated with a dank stench. Inside the classroom was dark. There were no windows, only a few dimly lit torches. The walls were littered with bookshelves that were filled with old looking tomes and crowned with all sorts of glass jars filled with a yellowish jelly-like substance, in which floated pickled, mangled specimens. Cosette had found these things very disturbing, but couldn't seem to pull her eyes away in fascination. Was it her imagination, or had one of the globular, detached eyeballs just shift its dilated pupil around the room?

The whole room smelled like the apothecary in Diagon Alley, only a bit more pleasing to the senses. The stench of rotten eggs was instead replaced with a very spicy like smell of mixed herbs that wasn't entirely unpleasant to her and gazing about the room, one could very easily spot containers and jars filled with potions ingredients. The teacher had not yet entered the room, as everyone took their seats.

Harry noticed that of the students, only the Slytherins looked the most at ease. Professor Snape was their Head of House, as well as their Potions teacher, and this alone seemed to intimidate many of the students; his harsh and strict reputation had already scared many students into a silent stiff position. He could spot his sister sitting in the back row on the opposite side of the room and he frowned a little, wondering why she hadn't taken the seat next to him. Had the scene in breakfast really scared her off against ever sitting next to him, or any Gryffindor for that matter? She refused to even look at any of his housemates, with himself as an exception, of course. Yet, even those looks were only timid, fleeting glances, as if she was somehow ashamed with herself over something.

From this distance, he couldn't even tell if she was alright. Her eyes didn't meet with his, and instead she seemed to try and hide behind her cauldron as the rather large girl next to her leaned over the table to speak to another student just in front of her. Just then the adjoined door that Harry guessed was to the teacher's office swung open with a loud, clamorous bang. In swept the fierce looking Professor Harry had the unpleasant encounter with at the opening feast, and his mood and demeanor looked no happier.

He strode purposely and without arrest until he made it to the head of the class, cloak billowing in a manner that reminded Harry of a large bat. When he reached the front, he took a seat behind a large desk which was covered in more jars and papers. The class spent the next few seconds squirming uncomfortably as the Professor had yet to address them. After several minutes, he began shuffling his papers and began to read off roll call, and just like Professor Flitwick had, he seemed to pause at Harry's name.

"Ah yes, Mr. Potter," he drawled out in a sarcastic tone. "Our new – celebrity."

There was snickering coming from Malfoy's end of the table. Cosette stared at Malfoy as he sniggered before turning her gaze back to the Professor, sitting a bit straighter. He had reacted at her brother's name, not in awe like she was sure the others had, but with a sense of discretion. Still, the idea that her brother warranted any note worthy attention over the rest of the class bothered her somewhat. It was all anyone seemed to do since they had been introduced to the wizarding community.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving in this class, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic," his eyes darted around the class, who were all silent. Like McGonagall, Snape had the power to keep his classroom silent with his presence alone, without even raising his voice.

"You are here to learn the exact science and subtle art that is Potion making. I don't expect many of you to appreciate the beauty of the softly simmering of a cauldron, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind…ensnaring the senses. However, for those select few… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death..."

Cosette leaned forward slightly, mesmerized by the whisper of his voice and the promises they conveyed. She wasn't the only one; the whole of the class had leaned in, trying to grasp his words. He seemed to have a way of making all of them eager to jump right into the class and start brewing the wonders he was speaking of.

"—if you all aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually teach," he added just as smoothly, and Cosette couldn't help but break loose of the spell from his off-handed remark.

She probably would be one of those dunderheads.

The class collapsed back into their slouched posture as he finished; the silence still thick over them. Finally, Snape's eyes danced across the room suddenly and landed on Harry.

"Potter!"

Both twins jumped, but Harry noticed his gaze on him, not expecting to be called on, and sat up as straight as he could.

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

There was a moment when Harry just stared blankly at his Potion's teacher, wondering if he seriously asked Harry that question. He looked next to him at Ron, who only shrugged. He also briefly noticed that Hermione's hand shot straight up into the air, her face lighting up.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered quietly.

Snape's lips had curled into an unpleasant sneer.

"No? Well then, let's try again, shall we? Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I told you to locate me a bezoar?"

A what? Harry looked flabbergasted, and once again noticed Hermione's hand shoot up like a firecracker and was waving about; she was bouncing a bit in her seat in anxiousness.

"I don't know sir," Harry answered again, while beginning to fidget in his seat uncomfortably.

"Didn't think you'd bother to open your textbooks before term started, did you?" Snape sneered with distaste.

Well, that was just untrue. He and his sister had looked through the school books; Cosette had practically had her nose buried in them since they had returned from Diagon Alley— yet, as he shifted his gaze to the back of the class, he noticed her dumbfounded expression and knew she hadn't the slightest clue what the Professor was talking about either. Had he really expected him to memorize every single detail in the books?

"We'll try on last time, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice forced him to turn back from his sister to look at him. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Again, Harry had no answer to this question, yet Hermione was practically bouncing out of her seat. Was there anything the girl didn't know? He would be lying if he said her know-it-all behavior didn't irritate him a little, as it felt almost like she was mocking him in class right now.

"I don't know sir," Harry said for the final time, and as much as he tried to hold it back, the words were spoken with a bit of spite.

If Snape had picked up on it, he gave no notion. After all, he was already glaring at him like he brought with him the ten plagues of Egypt.

"Pity," he sneered, and in the background, Harry could hear Malfoy and his goons snickering. "Clearly fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt his eyes narrowing, and before he could help himself, he blurted out –

"Clearly Hermione knows; seems pity not to ask her."

While the class had erupted with chuckles, Harry knew in an instant that that was the wrong thing to say. Snape's eyes, if at all possible, had narrowed even more.

"Sit down, you silly girl," Snape's voice came out in a hiss and that alone silenced the class.

He looked over, and it seemed that Hermione hadn't been able to withstand being seated after all, and had in fact, stood up wiggling her hand. Harry watched as she dropped back into her seat as Snape approached, and Harry gulped as he stopped just before him.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so strong it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone that can be found in the stomach of a goat and can cure most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, and are also referred to as aconite," he paused there, as the entire class stared at them both. You could hear a pin drop.

"Well?" Snape's voice rang out and echoed in the classroom as he addressed them all. "Why aren't you all writing this down?"

All at once, the classroom was filled with the sounds of ruffling papers and scratching quills. Snape had retreated to his front desk, where he announced with a bit more amusement than necessary,

"And Gryffindors will note that a point will be taken, for your housemate's cheek."

Cosette had watched the encounter with confused eyes. While she had definitely noted the hateful glances Professor Snape had been throwing her brother over dinner the previous night, she wasn't expecting this sort of behavior. All of the other teachers had delighted at the very sight of her twin, and this was a rather odd reaction. Even though she thought it was cruel to think it, she couldn't help but relish in the fact that at least one teacher amongst the bunch didn't immediately worship her brother at the mere sight of his name. In that respect, Cosette found herself oddly wishing to make an impression on the Professor, who had somehow, despite his nasty disposition and the crippling fear she felt for him, rose in her esteem.

Though, she was off to a horrible start. Professor Snape had instructed them all to start making a potion that was used to cure boils. While the instructions were simply stated, Cosette still managed to somehow turn her potion— which was supposed to be a thick yellow color— into a watery grayish concoction that was bubbling uncontrollably. In retrospect, she would realize that it was because of her nervous, panicky desire to not mess up that caused her to make a glaring oversight, but in her current state, she only managed to screw things up. To make things even worse, Snape was making rounds across the classroom, stopping by each student's potion to give a nasty comment about how awful it was, with the exception of the Malfoy boy's, to which he praised gloriously. Looking into her own drooling potion— which was far off from perfect— made Cosette panic even more. He was sure to glare down at her and mock her for her utter failure, and Cosette's fear only escalated at the Professor's approach.

He was just one student ahead of her, and she glanced over watching as he inspected her neighbor's cauldron, scornfully complaining that it was too thick and was a horrible waste. She could only assume what he would say about hers. With her heart pumping wildly, Cosette nervously began squirming where she stood, her hair dropping into her face to shield it from view, trying to hold herself back from the tears she knew would follow his nasty remarks. She wasn't strong like her brother, who had just stood there and blinked as Snape insulted his potion by far the worst in the class. As she felt him approaching, Cosette steeled herself to look at her cutting board, her hands gripping the knife as tightly as she could, chopping up the porcupine quills into neat, quarter inch pieces.

However, just as he reached her cauldron, he had shifted and continued walking past her, ignoring her and her potion completely, as if she wasn't even there. She was left standing there dumbfounded as he skipped over her, and began chastising the student right next to her. Stunned, Cosette peered over bravely at her Professor, only to notice his back was to her, as if any contact with her would poison him. What was wrong? Why was he ignoring her? Thinking back, Cosette couldn't think of one time at all during class or even in the Great Hall –or practically any time so far— that her Head of House even so much as looked at her. He always seemed to pass by as if she were a ghost, like she didn't exist. Even when going through roll call he had seamlessly rolled onto the next student's name, barely letting her even finished calling out; "present." So now he was strolling off, ignoring the putrid mass of ooze in her cauldron that more than justifiably deserved his scorn. Was it that bad that he didn't even think it was worth commenting on? Was she so horrible at Potions that he knew ahead of time that she would do so dreadfully and that's why he ignored her?

She almost didn't know what would be worse, this complete and blatant disregard or his announcement of her failure. She sniffed involuntarily, mentally deciding that she would do better. Though the Professor had ignored her, he was the only teacher— or possibly the only person in the entire school—who didn't admire Harry over anyone else, and so she was dedicated to doing better in his class, even if to just prove that she wasn't terrible, that she could do better, and that she was worth insulting. And maybe, subconsciously even, trying to prove that she at least could do one thing better than her brother.

If anyone noticed Professor Snape's disinterest in Cosette's potion, it was immediately forgotten by the events in which happened next. From across the room on the Gryffindor's side of the classroom, came a loud explosion. Students shrieked and a few had jumped and dived under the tables as a student's cauldron had quite literally exploded, covering the owner in a gloppy, syrupy fluid.

Neville Longbottom, as Harry remembered his name, began crying out as boils began to appear all over the area on his skin which had made contact with his potion.

"Idiot boy!" came Snape's cruel bellow as he flew across the room. "I bet you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the flame?"

Neville didn't respond, just continue to sniff miserably as nasty, puss filled boils grew and systematically popped all over his face. Snape all at once spun around to the table directly in front of Neville's, where Harry and Ron sat.

"Potter! Why didn't you stop Longbottom from adding porcupine quills at the wrong time? Think you'd come out looking better? Five more points will be taken from Gryffindor!"

Now that was entirely unfair. How could Harry have had anything to do with a student's botched potion, especially one who was sitting behind him and one he hadn't even noticed was there? Harry felt hot anger boil inside him, but Ron held his arm back.

"It's not worth it, mate," Ron shook his head. "Just let it go. Snape's this way to everyone. He's always taking points off from Fred and George."

Harry didn't want to let it go, but knew that Ron was right. He took a deep breath and turned, cleaning up his potion, which Snape had said was nothing but a complete and total failure. The only one on the Gryffindor's side who had made the potion look half way decent was Hermione, something that Harry had no trouble believing.

When everything was cleaned up and Neville was escorted to the Hospital Wing so that Madam Pomfrey could heal him, they were dismissed. Harry miserably walked out the class with his head hanging, wondering again why the Professor hated him so much. What had he done? Even Ron's reassurance only went so far.

"Can I go with you to see Hagrid?" Ron had asked once they were safely out of the proximity of the dungeon classroom.

Harry nodded his head.

"Yeah, let's just find my sister and go." Together they made their way through the throes of students, hoping to spot his twin. They found her just by the entrance to the dungeon, back turned and walking stiffly with her arms clutching her books, head downcast.

When Harry approached, his sister addressed him with a distant response that was growing far too familiar. It was as if his sister was distancing herself from him for some reason, and he couldn't place why. He stopped in front of her and gave her a gentle smile, one she timidly returned.

"Are you alright?" Harry finally asked. The anger he felt this morning had far dried up since then. Classes had been such an adventure, that it completely replaced his worry.

Cosette remained silent and didn't answer right away. After a bit, she muttered a quick, "Yeah."

Harry didn't believe her.

"About this morning…" but when he went to push it, Cosette cut in.

"Just drop it, Harry."

Confused, Harry cocked his head. They had never kept things from each other before. If something bothered one of them, they shared it with each other. Harry didn't understand why his sister suddenly became so withdrawn. Maybe it was her way of dealing with it, or maybe she just didn't want him to worry. Whatever it was, Harry merely nodded his head.

"Hagrid invited us to tea," he brought up, hoping the change in topic would lighten the mood. It did and Cosette brightened up a bit. "I said we'd go. That's okay, right? I mean, you want to go?"

Cosette nodded her head. All three of them then ascended the dungeons and began walking to the courtyard to meet with Hagrid for tea.

Ron and Harry struck up a conversation while walking across the grassy field, but Cosette had kept her reserve. Harry wondered what was bothering her so much, as he thought back to Potions class. He remembered how Snape thankfully hadn't insulted her, so she couldn't be upset over that. She must still be sore over breakfast. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they paused before knocking on the door.

The place was small— considering who dwelled within— and as they waited, they heard the barking of a dog on the other side. Harry saw Cosette take a cautious step back in fear.

"Hold on a minute," came the gruff voice of Hagrid from inside. "Down Fang, I said down!"

After a bit of shuffling noises, the wooden door creaked open, allowing them passage.

"Sorry 'bout that," Hagrid's warm smile was enough to lighten Harry's mood again. At his right side lay a giant beast of a dog and each of them looked at it nervously. Noticing their worried expressions, Hagrid chuckled.

"Don' worry 'bout Fang here, he's as gentle as a new born doe. C'mon in."

Harry walked in first, then Ron, with Cosette bringing up the rear. The inside of the hut looked even smaller than the outside suggested. It was only one giant room, which contained in it a large bed and potbellied stove and dingy fireplace. Against one wall was a large, dirty ripped lounge chair that was big enough to accommodate Hagrid, and a small rounded table sat in the corner, on which settled a tea set. The smell of the place reminded Harry of the zoo, as it smelled like several unwashed animals. There were also pheasants and muskrats hanging off ropes that were strewn about the small abode as if a stream of Christmas lights.

"C'mon, have a seat!" he ushered them towards the table, and they all sat down quickly.

Hagrid went about pouring each of them tea, while Cosette kept throwing nervous glances towards Fang. Harry knew Cosette didn't have a good history with dogs, seeing as Aunt Marge's fat canine had on more than one occasion bit her. Seeing a dog, who was much larger than Marge's, unnerved her. When it approached and sniffed all of them, Ron and Harry gently patted his head and received their fair share of slobbery drool. When he approached Cosette however, she tensed up and backed away, moving her hands out of Fang's mouth range. Fang just cocked his head, and Harry graciously diverted the boarhound's attention by scratching behind its ear. The dog's tail wagged happily, as it rested its drooling head on his lap.

"This is my friend Ron," Harry introduced, and Ron nodded his head in greeting.

"Ron Weasley," the red-head added, smiling brightly.

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid chuckled. "I am well acquainted with yer two trouble-makin' twin brothers. Always runnin' off towards the fores' an' all."

"Sounds like them," Ron agreed, staring at the large black mounds that Hagrid placed in front of them. They all exchanged glances as they were told they were some sort of cake, but after several failed attempts to bite into them, they simply settled to politely nibbling the sides.

After pleasant conversation was spent, mostly with Cosette remaining silent, Harry and Ron were pleased to find that Hagrid shared their sentiments about Filch, the caretaker.

"Blimey ol' git. He and his cat, yeh know," Hagrid mumbled taking a sip of tea. "Never met one single animal I didn't like till I met Mrs. Norris. I'd like to introduce her to Fang, if yeh know what I mean. Every time I go into the school, she follows me aroun' like I'm a prowlin' hooligan. Filch puts her up to it, I'm sure."

"Still, I'd rather put up with him than Snape," Ron seemed to shiver here, and Harry couldn't help agreeing.

"Snape?" Hagrid raised a brow. "Don' tell me you already got a detention with him?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I just don't think he likes me very much. Well…actually, like isn't a strong enough word for what I think he feels. I think he hates me."

"An' what makes you think that?" Hagrid blinked.

Harry briefly summed up his encounter with the unpleasant Potions instructor, how he pointedly ridiculed him in class and about how he insulted everyone's potion, but seemed the most upset with his.

"The only one he hadn't insulted was Cosette," Ron grumbled under his breath, to which Hagrid looked surprised.

"Oh?" he sounded interested and looked over expectedly at Cosette, a smile on his face. He no doubt thought his lack of insult meant she did remarkably well.

Cosette had been absolutely silent, save for a quiet thank you when he passed out the tea. When Hagrid looked over at her, her face was downcast and she was staring into her cup.

"He completely ignored me," Cosette's voice was little above a whisper. "Didn't even bother to comment about how horribly mine turned out."

"You should be lucky about that," Ron remarked with a grin. "He always treats his Slytherins better. I didn't believe it when Fred and George said it, but now I know it's true."

Cosette looked up sharply.

"He didn't treat any of us differently, well except maybe for that Malfoy kid. But for me... well, he completely passed by me! Like I wasn't even there," her face crumbled in misery. "I was so horrible in class; he probably didn't even think I was even worth insulting."

"Then we should all be so bad at Potions!" Ron laughed out, apparently not seeing how Cosette's situation was affecting her. From across the table, Harry saw as Cosette turned to glare at Ron. Quickly, he decided to cut in.

"I'm sure you're not that bad, Cosette."

Her eyes turned from Ron at her brother. She looked disbelieving at him.

"No? Besides for that clod Longbottom and his exploding cauldron, I did the worst."

"Maybe you just were off to a bad start," Harry shrugged, trying to make her feel better. He looked down at her fidgeting hands and a small smile crept on his face.

"Besides, you're probably the only one who didn't nick their fingers to ribbons cutting ingredients."

Here he flashed her his fingers, which were riddled with small, paper cut sized injuries. He wiggled them about, and Ron did the same, brandishing similar wounds with a cheeky, broad grin.

Cosette looked down at her untouched hands and gave a small smile. She did notice how the Slytherin students next to her had all managed to cut things very choppy and sloppily, and otherwise mangled their ingredients with fumbling hands and everyone seemed to get a thin nick or two.

"I guess all those years cooking for the Dursleys had some advantage," she said, feeling somewhat better.

"Yeh see! I'm sure you'll do fine!" Hagrid nodded his head. "Jus' don't take his comments to heart, he's like tha' with everyone. I don't think you have anythin' to worry 'bout C'sette," he didn't meet her eyes when he spoke to her, and Harry was under the impression that he was hiding something, as if he knew something that would explain the teacher's weird behavior.

"I guess…" Harry mumbled, filing this information away for later. "But I still don't see why he puts such an emphasis when it comes to me. What does he have against me? What could I have done to him?"

Hagrid looked uncomfortable here and his eyes nervously danced around his room, as if he was expecting at any moment one of the dead hanging animals would come to life.

"How's yer brother Charlie doin', eh Ron? Workin' with dragons still?"

Harry wondered if Hagrid was changing the subject on purpose, and then wondered for what reason. Did he know something about Snape? Did he know of the reasons why he treated him so bad, and why he ignored his sister so completely? As he listened to Ron talk about how his brother was training dragons in Romania, he noticed Cosette looking with furrowed brows at a newspaper, which was placed underneath their cups of tea. Leaning in closer, he noticed the heading: GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST.

Harry and Cosette shared a look, and as she passed the article to him, she gave him a knowing nod. Ron had mentioned something about it on the train, and Cosette seemed to think that this was no coincidence. Quickly, he read over the paper.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

'Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.'

"Hagrid!" Harry broke into the conversation, holding up the paper. "The break-in at Gringotts happened the same day we were there!"

Harry looked up at Hagrid, who looked rather nervous and kept refusing to meet his eyes. This couldn't have been a coincidence.

"And the vault they broke into," Harry said, skimming down the article, "it's the same one we visited, 713," Harry pointed out. Hagrid hastily reached for another rock cake and offered it to Harry, but he wasn't so easily swayed. That object that Hagrid took out of the vault; could it be what the thieves were after?

"Look kids, it's gettin' late, you should probably head back now before dinner starts."

Before they knew it, Hagrid was ushering them out of his hut. As the door shut behind them, Ron looked confused.

"Well, that was…interesting," he mumbled.

"Yeah, interesting…" Harry drifted off as the three of them made their way up to the castle.

"I'm starved!" Ron announced the same instance a loud grumble rose from his stomach. "I hope they have something good –like roast chicken, or perhaps steak or –"

As Ron prattled off, Harry shook his head and laughed, amused by his friend's fixation for food. Looking nervously over at his sister, she had a rather resigned look on her face. Breakfast had been painful, and lunch she hadn't even bothered to show up to. Would she be alright at dinner?

"I can sit by you, if you want," Harry said to her.

Cosette's contemplative look vanished and she fiercely shook her head.

"You know you can't do that, remember last night? No, it's plainly obvious that our houses aren't meant to socialize together. It would be better if we ate apart."

Her words were spoken almost bitterly, and Harry found he was hurt by that, but he knew her words were true; his house didn't want his sister sitting there anymore than the Slytherins would want him at theirs. They would just have to learn to be separated from each other while eating… as well as being separated in class… as well as being separated in different common rooms… as well as being separated to sleep in completely different parts of the castle… Harry miserably wondered if this split between them could grow any worse.