Chapter 12
Double Potions
The Hufflepuffs shuffled nervously into the classroom, everyone doing their best to sit in the back. The Ravenclaws, by contrast, seemed intent on sitting towards the front of the room, despite nervous expressions. Harry sat next to Justin, a bit further up than he would have liked both because Justin seemed to be making a point about not being afraid and because almost everyone else pushed past him in an effort to get the best seats. The dreaded professor was not there yet and most of the students started whispering nervously to their partners while messing around with their new Potions supplies.
"I don't think we're supposed to do that yet," Harry whispered helpfully when Justin looked like he was trying to work the gas fire on which the cauldron stand was set. Surprisingly, the fire wasn't made by magic. In fact, it looked positively Muggle, assuming that Muggles would have a set up to provide flames beneath a cauldron stand. His own nervousness led him to do what half the Ravenclaws had already done; pull out his Potion book and begin to read through the introduction. The entire first page was devoted to fire safety, mentioning that students would not be expected to magically control fire until much later. That would explain the gas. Suddenly, the professor was sweeping into the room, shutting off Justin's attempts at starting his fire with a flick of his wrist and drawing immediate attention.
He reminded Harry of McGonagall, in manner if not in looks. He looked terrifying, like a vampire from one of Dudley's hidden films, dark and dangerous. His eyes swept over the class, capturing attention and silencing whispers with only a glance. His eyes paused a short moment on Harry's, dark and empty and gleaming in the torchlight. They went on.
"A point from Hufflepuff," he began, his voice low but resonating well throughout the room, "For playing with fire. I see that again and you will be gone from this classroom." His eyes only flickered momentarily towards Justin, pausing on Harry once more. Then he ran swiftly through his scroll of names. When he got to Harry's name he paused only slightly, drawing his name out with a cruel looking smirk. "Harry Dursley." Harry answered present, surprised enough to finally hear his name said right that he smiled slightly in spite of himself. The professor gave him an odd, unreadable look before turning his eyes over the rest of the students, silencing the whispers that had erupted among the Ravenclaws at Harry's name. He finished with roll.
The speech that followed rolled off his tongue in a low, almost hypnotic tone that filled the room despite being little more than a whisper. The Ravenclaws began taking notes at once as he instructed them in the subtle art that was potion making, despite the fact that he hadn't actually told them anything of any particular relevance. Suddenly, right after practically calling the entire class dunderheads, he turned to face Harry.
"Dursley," he barked sharply, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry jumped and then stared at him blankly. Looking around he was slightly relieved to see that even the Ravenclaws mostly didn't seem to know what he was talking about, though one of the boys tried mouthing something to him behind the professor's back. Professor Snape lifted an eyebrow, waiting to hear Harry's answer. Now the boy was clutching his neck, miming being choked to death it seemed.
"Sorry," Harry said, not beginning to understand, "I don't know, sir." Professor Snape shook his head as his lips twisted into a sneer. If he noticed the Ravenclaw trying to mime the answer he gave no notice of it.
"Let's try again, Dursley," he said, "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Harry tried to think if he had ever even heard that word before; wasn't that some kind of market or something? The Ravenclaw was making pig faces at him; Harry wasn't sure if that was meant to help or if the boy was simply laughing at him, but either way it wasn't helping.
"I don't know, sir," Harry repeated again. There was that same look on Professor Snape's face, a mixture of glee at his ignorance and disappointment. Harry really didn't know what to make of it. Had he done something to make the professor mad? Perhaps he thought Harry had been responsible for turning on the gas at the beginning of class?
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming to class, Dursley?" he asked, the 'Dursley' rolling off his tongue like something particularly savory. It was as though he was taking special delight in calling Harry by his own name. Harry glanced down at his still open text book. He had glanced through it before class, but he hadn't really bothered to read it. None of the other professors had seemed to expect them to have their books memorized. "Tell me this, then," Professor Snape continued, "What is the difference between gold and pewter cauldrons." He smirked down at the boy, and even the Ravenclaw looked a bit lost. Harry wasn't sure if that was because the boy didn't know or if he just couldn't figure out how to mime that one. Harry swallowed, then felt his eyes widen. Finally, hesitantly, he tried to answer.
"Gold is purer but too soft to be used as a common cauldron because it reacts strongly with elemental ingredients," Harry said slowly, twisting his face up as he tried to remember exactly what the shopkeeper had said, all those weeks ago in Diagon Alley, "And pewter is mostly tin, and, er, it is good for simple, every day use but not the more finicky potion?" And when the professor continued to stare at him, neither confirming nor denying his answer, Harry added, "And gold costs more?" At that, the professor's look of utter disdain returned.
"Passable," he said at last, "That might have gotten you a D if you gave me that in an essay, instead of the T your first two answers deserved. I expect everyone to keep up in their readings before we come to class." The last was said to the class at large before he turned suddenly to face the Ravenclaw boy. "Two points from Ravenclaw," he announced, not even bothering to cite the crime, "Do that again and it will be detention." The boy gulped, sliding down in his seat. Then the professor told them the correct answers to everything Harry had missed, including a good deal more on the properties of cauldrons. Harry scribbled away on his parchment as best as he could manage, still being new to writing with a quill, just glad that the attention was off of him. In fact, Professor Snape seemed to completely ignore him for the rest of the class.
They didn't start a potion that class period, going over the first chapter in detail instead, particularly the parts on safety. Professor Snape kept looking at Justin while he spoke about the gas fire, before going on to knives and mentioning, briefly, the different ways to slice up ingredients. Justin, surprisingly, didn't seem nearly as keen on Potions as he had at the beginning of class. They went over a potion on curing boils in theory, but they wouldn't be allowed to actually make it until their next class. Instead, Professor Snape instructed them to bring their cauldrons to a boil and then to slice up carrots, grind garlic into a powder, and then add the two ingredients at the same time only after the cauldron was taken from the heat. The lesson ended in showing the proper way to fill a vial and stopper it up. The Ravenclaws looked a bit put out in being made to have a cooking lesson in their first class while the Hufflepuffs simply looked confused. Surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs were, in general, better at following the simple directions even if half of them acted a bit afraid of the boiling water.
The class ended with the professor banishing their concoctions, explaining exactly what standards of clean up he expected them to follow at the end of every practical, and then dismissing them with a request for two feet of parchment over proper preparation and clean up procedure to be turned in next class and instructions to read before coming in or to not bother coming at all. Everyone practically ran from the class, or would have if they weren't so afraid of losing points for running in the hall. The prefect wasn't there to guide them this time, but they were able to follow their maps easily to their common room before heading off to dinner.
Dinner was filled with conversation about the class, the professor, how stupid Justin was at the beginning of class, and how much the professor must hate Harry. The only really good thing anyone had to say about the class was that at least now they could be certain that Snape wasn't a vampire.
"They can't go near the stuff," Evan insisted with some authority, despite the fact that Megan had skimmed through the chapter on vampires in the DADA book and it only said they were allergic to garlic. And it wasn't like their professor had actually drunken the stuff. He hadn't even crushed it himself, just told them how to do it.
"And what was with that showoff making faces?" Wayne asked, frowning slightly with disapproval.
"I almost died, trying not to laugh," Justin added, "Especially with the bat looming over us looking all stern, and there he was behind him!"
"He was trying to help," Harry pointed out to Wayne, "I just didn't get it." In fact, except for the drilling at the beginning of class, Harry had enjoyed Potions. It reminded him of cooking. In an odd way, Professor Snape even reminded him of his aunt, the way she would skulk around in the background, ready to jump on him if he did something wrong. He was looking forward to trying a real potion.
"Don't forget, the Wizard Culture classes are tonight," Evan reminded them. They had just finished eating, in fact, when Hermione wandered over, obviously anxious about not missing the class. Prefect Percywell also stopped by, not to remind them about the culture classes but to remind them they had astronomy that night at 12:30.
"Your first class tomorrow is at ten instead of nine," he added, "And you'll be able to eat breakfast an hour later than it usually closes. So you won't miss out too much on sleep."
"What did you think of Potions, Harry?" Lisa asked as they got ready to go to the Culture class, "He really seemed to hate you." Harry shrugged.
"At least he called me Dursley," he answered, though he did wish the professor could do it without a sneer.
