Chapter 14:Lesson One

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Harry stood at the entrance to the potions classroom where his first lesson with Snape would commence in one minute and six seconds exactly. The Tempus charm had set a timer to remind him. Which was incredibly annoying, as he had been practicing the Sectumsempra spell, and had ripped apart the back of a Sixth-Year girls robes, unveiling her... Assets. The sixth year boys had whistled, cheered and patted him on the back. The girl had burst into tears. He had hastily left, but not before sending a heartfelt apology her way. Here he stood, remembering the moment, and failing to notice the timer running down to five... four... three... two... one... and...

The door flew open, and he was flung inside. He landed sprawled on the floor, and saw flat black shoes an inch from his face. He scrambled up, ad came face to face with a very mean looking Professor. He sneered, and looked Harry in the eye. He looked around, and when he saw that the door was shut and they were alone, his expression softened. He looked at the boy, who seemed tiny in his bulky robes.

"Hello, Harry. Would you like a seat, a drink?"

Harry nodded dumbly. He sat stiffly in the warm armchair near the fire. He sat on the edge, but even then his feet hardly grazed the stone floor. He looked around, and noted the large glass cabinet marked 'DEADLY: KEEP OUT!'

He was jolted back to reality by a small nudge on his shoulder. Professor Snape had returned, carrying two bottles. Harry looked at them, and saw a golden substance inside. He looked questioningly at the Potions Master.

"It's an energy drink. We are going to be moving a lot, so it is important to keep energised. This is the most powerful drink on the planet, It will keep you awake at least for five hours."

Harry nodded, not taking in a single word of it. He took a sip of his, and looked at the bottle. It had a old, peeling label, with the words Extremely High Levels of Caffeine: Dangerous!

Harry noticed that the other bottle was empty, and that Severus had drawn his wand. He conjured a sandbag, which Harry knew very well. He had been Vernon's sandbag before. He watched as the Professor summoned three more, and spoke again.

"Now, Harry, I would like to see the magic you can currently produce. Please, show me your greatest spells."

Harry drew his wand, and stepped forward nervously. He thought fast, and cast his first spell.

"Arventa!"

The sandbag careened backwards, smashing into the bricks behind it.

"That was impressive. Again."

Harry cast the spell again, and again. It felt like the fiftieth time before Severus asked him to move on. He stepped to the next bag.

"Vildiera!"

The bag burst into blue flame. The flames faded, showing a frozen pile of sand. The bag had frozen and shattered.

"Move on, Harry."

Severus was impressed, and he was eager to see the final two spells. The previous were second and third year level respectively, and he wondered how Harry would top them.

"Dreadlast!"

This was directed at Severus, who threw a shield up. The spell evaporated, and Severus gulped. That was dark magic. The spell would cause a nightmare like illusion to appear around the victim, and could drive you to insanity. He hadn't learned that spell until sixth year.

"Good, Harry. Last one."

Harry focused on the final sandbag. He imagined the fists of Vernon, the boots of Mr Dursley raining down on him. He mustered all the hate, all the rage, and all his fight into himself.

"Sectumsempra." He whispered, zooming in on the exact place where Vernon's fat neck would begin. The word was barely audible. None the less, Severus had turned even paler than usual. The bag exploded, sand pouring down upon the cold stone floor. The question was, how had he discovered it?

"Where did you find that spell, Harry?

"It was written on a bit of paper, it kinda fell out of someones pocket. Is it bad?"

He almost sighed. His book was safe. At least, for now.

"Harry. What I am going to ask you is very important. How many books have you taken from the Restricted Section?"

"None, Professor. Professor Quirrel left them on my desk, for some reason. I just flipped through and copied them."

The Potions master narrowed his eyes. But why... why would Quirrel leave dark magic books around his classroom? He would investigate this. Very swiftly.

"Harry, Sit down on the floor and cross your legs. We are going to find your Inner animal. This will help you discover your core, the place you shall always be calm, somewhere to think. It will also preset you your Animagus form."

Harry lowered himself to the floor, crossed his legs and straightened up. He followed the Professor's soothing words. He closed his eyes. He took deep breaths. He felt himself slipping away...

And then he awoke. However, he knew instantly that he had found his Inner Place. Two things stood out in that prospect. One, He was in a dark cave of... water, he hoped, the wall green with the reflection. And, Two, he didn't usually float.

He wandered around. Every... yard that he took, he felt a short, sharp tug at his navel. He reached what he assumed was the centre of his dream world, signified by the island in the water, only around twenty feet across, and he touched down. His left foot hit the ground first, and he touched the rough ground with his hand, feeling the slimy liquid that he thought was water flow over his hand, wincing when it stung the small cut on the palm of his hand.

He looked into the murky water. (He had decided it was definitely water, and that was that!) He saw dark shapes floating, and he didn't think that they were fish.

"sh-sh-sh..."

Harry spun around. He listened, begging for the sound to have been a figment of his imagination.

"Sh-Sh-Sh..."

There it was again. He listened carefully, attempting to locate the direction that the noise was coming from.

"SH-SH-SH!"

He turned, slowly. What he saw was more terrifying than anything that had ever been seen by anyone, ever in the history of anything, anywhere. Scarier than Bustin Jeiber. Scarier than a sober Scotsman. Scarier than the idea that The Only Way is Essex generates most of Britain's grooming sales. It... Was...

AN- It was an incredibly subpar chapter, that's what it was! I'm sorry at how literally shit this is, guys, I've had a lot of shit going on lately. I'm starting a lemon series soon, and I'm thinking of something new, which is a series of popular fictional characters and what their suicide notes may look like. Apologies to you all, especially Ravenous Oranges, my partner in crime. I'm afraid that I committed written murder in this. I'm sorry that I gave you, the readers and even myself such a huge wait, such a huge build up, and dropped this on you all. Thank you for following the story, and thanks for your reviews. Remember, they are all read, answered and most definitely appreciated. I promise, on my word as an author, as someone who loves doing this all, that I will never, NEVER, write a bigger piece of garbage again. May whatever kind of gigantic monkey-fish frog that exists up there strike me down otherwise.