Potions with Professor Snape
A/N I'm almost at 100 followers! That is our goal. 100th follower gets a special mention. I never thought this story would get any attention, so thank you so much guys! Also, am I late? My parents confiscated my laptop for a bit, and, honestly, during quarantine, I can't keep track of time.
Thank you to Bean89, and YAYSOLANGELO for reviewing. Also thank you to no one. Finally, to chen, thanks, I'm agonostic, as are my parents, but we do religious things any way. I went to a Christian school though. I'm talking more about the kind of praying you might do during a football (soccer) match, or something. Or during the lottery or idk.
Nico's POV
History of Magic, I decided, was the most boring subject in human history. Of course, I had been warned by Harry, but when you have fought Giants, Titans and Mother Earth herself, you assume you can handle a lesson taught by an old ghost. Apparently not. I gained a newfound wonder and admiration of Hermione, for she sat attentively listening to the monotonous drone of Professor Bin Bag, or whatever his name was.
I spent the lesson doodling the most hellish monsters I could think of, along with masses of skeleton armies. Admittedly, my drawing skills were not quite professional level – they were still equivalent to those of my younger self, who preferred drawing cartoon mythomagic creatures - but if it has been over eighty years since you even touched a pen to paper because you were too busy being locked in a hotel which didn't let you die, and then were trying not to die for the next several years, I think you can be excused.
When I finally became of aware of students departed, I hurriedly screwed the paper into a tight ball, and shoved it into the deepest recesses of my bag, courtesy of Hecate and the same one in which she had gifted my several valuable items, along with several other useless books. I followed Harry, Ron and Hermione down several flights of stairs until I was sure that we were underground. Apparently, I was right as we joined a queue of students outside a dungeon. I mean, I'd only met Snape briefly (where he had had me tied to a chair, threatened to torture me and forced a truth potion down my throat) but a dark, gloomy dungeon seemed like the exact spot in which he'd hold his lessons. Or made it was a Head of Slytherin thing.
The mumbled conversations that had been taking pace immediately died down to utter silence as the door to the dungeon opened with an ominous creak.
"Sit down," said Professor Snape listlessly.
I resisted giving him my worst glare, and flopped onto a table in the back corner, where the golden trio were seated. I admit, his careless bulling attitude did nothing to increase my enthusiasm in potions, and I zoned out, plastering a look of false attentiveness on my face. That was, until, his eyes rested from Neville, to Harry, lip curling. I saw Harry glare at him with undisguised loathing, and decided that he should leave the glaring to me – it does not look half as frightening when the eyes were staring through large glasses, only made even larger by Harry's narrow face and small nose. Indeed, Snape hardly looked fazed, although I spotted a glimmer of malice in his eyes, and wondered how their relationship came to be so resentful.
"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace," he said, gaze roving around the room (luckily, I have a remarkable ability to blend in with the shadows) "a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."
I saw Hermione sit up straighter, and held back an eye roll.
"The ingredients are on the blackboard." Snape flicked his wand. I saw them appear in the loopiest, most indistinguishable handwriting possible. Great. "The ingredients are in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half… begin."
I fished around in my bag, thanking Hecate profusely for the potion. It may not cure my dyslexia, but it would make it a bit easier for me to understand. I took a sip from the flask and gagged. She could have improved the taste a little. Seeing Harry looking at me, I quickly stowed the flask away and assumed a stoic expression as I turned to the board again. This time I could vaguely make out the words. I followed the instructions, finding that I, surprisingly, knew the ingredients and their properties.
Snape prowled around, looking for students to harass, and creating an atmosphere of intense pressure and fear. I ignored him, unfazed. I may have been going a little too slow in my effort to be precise, as I was only three quarters of the way done by the time Snape informed the class that the time was up. I observed that Harry was sweating profusely, and had created a sort of green sludge, which looked positively appetising compared to some of the other students' monstrosities. Mine was a watery grey colour.
"There should be a light silver vapour emitting from your cauldron." Ah. I glanced at Hermione, and, sure enough, hers was perfect, with just a gentle silvery sheen on the surface of her potion.
Snape stopped at Harry's cauldron, and I stiffened in anticipation.
"Potter, what is this?"
"The draught of peace," said Harry through gritted teeth.
"Tell me, Potter, can you read?"
"What kind of question is that?" The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Snape's glittering black eyes rested on me. I stared back into them challengingly, daring him. He knew perfectly well who I was and what I could do. Perhaps I should be laying low and staying in the shadows, but I could not just let something like this pass.
"That is not for you to judge, Mr. di Angelo."
"It is when you're bullying Harry."
"And that is not for you to decide."
"And why is that?"
"Because I am the teacher and you are a student. Now be careful or I'll spill more secret than just your crush."
I felt myself blush. My fists clenched into furious balls, nails digging into my palm. At that moment, I really hated wizards. How dare they! I could take Snape any day. I could take any of them. I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. Snape obviously viewed me as a threat, and it was clear that I did not have his trust, and that was fine by me.
By the time I opened them again, he was gone, inspecting other pupil's potions and casting a snide remark here and there.
"Hey," said Harry, "are you alright?"
I nodded mutely. It was the only way to stop myself from snapping a cruel retort I would later regret. I couldn't afford to avoid him.
"Really?" he said, "because you're making your palms bleed."
I looked down, and, sure enough, the edge of my nails was tinged red with blood. "Next time he'll say something about my sister," I muttered tensely, relaxing my fists a bit, "you wizards have no sense of privacy."
"You act like you aren't one."
"Just leave me alone Harry," I growled, angry at my slip up. I copied the other students, who were filling their flagons with their potion and bringing it to Snape's desk.
"Snape will use your sensitive spots. I just wish I knew what his was, but then he'd probably give me detention for the month. Don't give him the satisfaction."
"Yeah, thanks, I'll keep that in mind for next time and let you blow up instead," I retorted sarcastically.
"I wasn't going to bl-"
"Please, it was obvious," I said, shoving everything into my bag, slamming my flagon onto Snape's desk and practically sprinting out the room.
"You get used to it!" Harry called. I ignored him.
Harry's POV
Harry lied. You never got used to Snape's taunts, and he hardly ever failed to take the bait.
"Come on," he said to Ron and Hermione.
"If Nico's not a wizard, then what – and who – is he?" she asked thoughtfully.
"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "but we better keep an eye on him."
"Do you think the drink he took was polyjuice?" Ron frowned.
Hermione bit her lip. "But that's only supposed to work on humans, isn't it? I mean, you remember the cat fiasco." She blushed at the memory and Ron covered a snigger.
They walked the rest of the distance to the Great Hall in silence, lost in thought. Harry sat down, shoving forkfuls of lunch into his mouth.
"Slow down, Harry," Hermione chided.
"I didn't get to finish my breakfast," Harry retorted, "besides, we need to get to the library. We can't afford to just take our time."
"For once, I'm not the one saying it," she sighed. There was a pause. "You know," she said slowly, "what if Nico's… part human?"
"You mean… he could still take the polyjuice?"
"Yeah, maybe. I'd have to check-"
"-In the library, I know."
"I knew it!" Ron burst out, "So he's a spy for you-know-who."
"That doesn't really make sense, though," said Harry.
"Think about it! Have you checked his forearm?"
"Well… no." Now that he did think about it, maybe the idea shouldn't be dismissed so easily. "Do of you know who Hecate is, or should we look for her in library, too?"
Hermione gave a nod. "I know her. She's the Greek goddess of magic. But what does she have to do with anything?"
"Nico mentioned her."
"Yes, but we've already established he might believe in the Greek gods."
"No, he was talking about her on a personal level."
Hermione dumped a pile of large, dusty books onto the table and sat down, passing two to Harry and Ron and opening one herself. "We need to research everything on Ancient Greek mythology."
Ron groaned and bashed his forehead on the table. "Why can't we ever get a mystery that isn't worse than homework?"
"I don't know," Harry sighed, "If it's any comfort, after this we have Divination with Trelawney, and then DADA with Professor Umbridge."
"Great. Looking forward to that then."
A/N That's that. I wrote this in two days, with a bad headache, so I'm really not sure about the quality of this chapter. The golden trio are getting closer to the answer. Also, believe it or not, Snape is my favourite character in Harry Potter. Don't ask. Follow, fave, review and I am dying of tiredness as I wrote most of this now at 10.30. Bye!
- Merlyn