Chapter 21

Thursday was the first time any of the third years had class with John Smith. It was also the first time many, if not most, of them met him. By this point, knowledge of his special situation was passed throughout the school. Jack, a known friend of the 'anomalous boy' as one forth year put it, was under a constant barrage of questions. Jack, being Jack, was able to deftly maneuver around the questions, giving the impression he was answering the questions without actually revealing anything. The Doctor personally was unavailable for comment as he had eventually hidden himself somewhere within the depths of the library.

And so, when the Doctor entered Snape's third year potion class, he was a complete unknown. To Snape's mild annoyance, the boy was late again, getting in just as the bell rang. Snape had been hoping he would be early so they could have a moment to discuss Snape's plans for private sessions. What Snape did not realize was that the Doctor's dizzy spells, usually between four and six mild ones spread out between classes, had all converged, resulting in one long, severe spell that had left the Doctor on the floor, retching in a broom cupboard.

"Sorry, sorry!" gasped out the Doctor, pale and shivering from his ordeal in the cupboard. He glanced around, looking for a spot to sit in. He found one, but as he started to make his way over, someone grabbed his elbow and steered him away.

"Mr. Smith," murmured Professor Snape as he led his new favorite student away from Potter, Granger, and Weasley. "I've taken the liberty of setting you up over here." Over here was a private table with a few more supplies than most students had. There were also two cauldrons set up. "You will also be using your own cauldron, a total of three potions," Snape explained.

"As the headmaster has decided I cannot have you in my NEWT class, I've decided the only way to give you an actually beneficial lesson is to teach you slightly apart from these… students. As I will explain to the class momentarily, we'll be making a Shrinking Solution today. They will be given the most rudimentary recipe and we will be expounding on it in the next few lessons. I have given you a more complex version of the potion. You are to make both. Additionally, I am giving you the freedom to adapt the potions any way you see fit. Take careful notes on what you do. Three potions in total. See that you do not poison yourself or blow anything up in the process."

He paused, thinking. "I suppose, if you cannot manage to do three, you should focus on the first one so that you can keep up with the class." He sounded disheartened at the thought of Smith being unable to manage the assignment. "We'll discuss private tutoring times and extra assignments at some other time." He turned to address the class.

The Doctor sat down. He had his assignment, already knew all the background information Snape was giving the class, and took the last bit of Snape's explanation as a challenge. If he could not manage three potions? Hah! After a quick glance at the first potion, he was already considering at least a forth potion. He quickly set up his own personal cauldron and got to work, smirking slightly at the curious looks the other students were giving him.

The Doctor rapidly got into a 'zone', almost completely ignoring the world around him. On some unconscious level, he was aware of the class starting their own potions, a student arriving over an hour late, and the quiet conversations around the room. But as far as he was concerned, all that mattered was carefully mincing a daisy root, skinning a shrivelfig, carefully measuring and adding two grams of cellulose to the third cauldron, and trying to control the fire temperature under all three cauldrons. He made a mental note to ask for a heating plate at some point; using a fire to bring a potion to the right temperature was not only inefficient, it was inaccurate.

He was just finishing up adding all the ingredients to the first potion (the third had been finished for over an hour, the second one just needed another teaspoon of powdered charcoal to be added in exactly 2 minutes and 23 seconds) when he came out of his 'zone' to hear Snape say something about "testing long bottoms…"

What?

Frowning, he tried to recall what Snape had been saying. Even though he had not been paying attention, he could recall everything from that had been said earlier in the class: the wonders of a Gallifreyan mind. "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clears away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottoms's…" Longbottom was a student? Probably the one feverishly stirring his potion in a last ditch effort to make it acid green. But why were they going to test the at-this-point-teal potion?

The Doctor casually added the charcoal and stirred the potion a few times to mix it in before lowering the temperature of the fire and setting it aside to stew. He delved deeper into his memories of the class. "…Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?... What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

The Doctor had been focusing on proper stirring patterns while all this was happening and had no visual memory of the event, but from slight sniffles and hitched breaths, he imagined the boy was on the verge of tears. The Doctor did not need to inspect his memory any more. It was quite obvious that Snape had threatened to use Longbottom's wrecked potion. Who or what it was tested on was immaterial; Snape's actions were unconscionable. An improper potion could seriously harm someone; thinking back a little further, he realized the boy had been already upset even as he had entered the room, suggesting this was not a one-time occurrence, nor was it probably a deserved one. Snape's actions betrayed him as a bully.

The Doctor was a little bit saddened by this revelation. He had thought Snape to be harsh in words but fair in conduct. He had thought him to be a kindred spirit, one just as enamored by truth and facts and fighting the good fight as he was. He would still consider bringing Snape into a discussion on 'theoretical' ways to re-age someone. But he could not, in good conscience, work as closely as he had hoped with someone so cruel.

The Doctor watched dishearteningly as Snape force-fed the boy's toad a sample of his potion. The toad became a tadpole and was then reverted back to a toad. "Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed. Mr. Smith, please stay behind briefly."

The Doctor noted for future reference which girl was called Granger, the one McGonagall told him to ask for help if needed. If nothing else, she would be interesting to talk to. The class left, all still shooting the Doctor curious glances. They had not gotten a chance to meet the first year, as Snape had sequestered him, but it was obvious from the way he worked, balancing three potions at once, that he was something different.

After everyone had left the room, Snape turned to the Doctor. "This shouldn't take long. Let's see your potions." Unlike when he spoke to Longbottom or Granger, he was exceedingly friendly, even going so far as to lay a gentle hand on the Doctor's shoulder as he guided him back to three potions. He pulled out three vials. "There is not, of course, time to discuss these now. I'll take a sample of each and we'll talk about it later. I would like to arrange time to meet on a regular basis in private. Are you available before dinner on Thurday evenings?" The Doctor nodded curtly and helped Snape collect samples of the potions. "Good," Snape said. "I'll see you at five o'clock tonight, in my office. You are dismissed." He corked the vials and gathered the Doctor's notes on the third potion.

The Doctor had just left the room when he was hit by a dizzy spell. Like the one before potions, it was much stronger in magnitude than usual, though this one was more like a 5.8 on the Richter scale of dizziness, rather than the 8.2 of earlier. It was followed up by another few weaker waves of disorientation and then, like all the ones before, vanished completely. The Doctor, finding himself leaning heavily against the wall, straightened. He tugged his robes into order and continued on his way, thinking. He and Jack would have to work on this as well as the re-aging problem. More and more throughout the week he was certain there was something wrong with the world rather than with him.

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