Previously on Defiance...

"Nice to meet you Neville," Harry wished, trying his level best to keep his emotions under control. The last time he had lost control, the Black family magic had poised to strike down everyone in the room. He did not want that to happen. Not now, anyway.

He kept a tight rein on his emotions as he gave a passing glance towards the betrayers, his expressionless façade seeing through Hermione's smile and Ron's enthusiasm.

Fake. He told himself. All fake.

I need to be out of here.

He walked out of the compartment, ignoring the eavesdropper and the betrayers behind.

The Hogwarts Express gave out another high-pitched whistle as it slowed down, indicating that Hogsmeade station was within reach. It released a huge row of steam outward as it came to a halt. Students, new and older, got down from the compartments, dressed in their Hogwarts robes as they proceeded towards the carriages (for the older students) while the newer ones stayed back to go alongside professor Grubbly-plank.

Noticing Hagrid's absence, Harry deduced it to some mission for the Order. He had seen Hagrid at many occasions during the Order meetings and walked ahead. The other students were still far-behind as he had walked off earlier. Neither Weasley nor Granger was anywhere near him, so he allowed himself to be shunted forward onto the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade station.

Here stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. Harry glanced quickly at them and then did a double take.

The carriages were no longer horseless.

The four-legged creatures might look like horses on first sight, but they were not. In fact, there were more reptilian than mammalian. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither — vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

"Thestrals." He whispered.

Almost as if in response, the thestral closest to him looked towards him, the white eyes staring into his bright green. Almost subconsciously, his right hand went up as a bright light washed out of him, manifesting the ethereal Patronus that had been the origin of all changes about him. The Patronus trotted slowly towards the real creature, as they stood head-to-head. The bright light ebbing from the Patronus attracted the other thestrals, who turned to stare at it.

"You don't see that often."

Harry spun around. It was the same blonde girl from the compartment. On closer look, the girl had a dreamy look in her eyes, wore long radish-earrings and a necklace of butterbeer caps. She had an aura of distinct dottiness. While he was not pleased that someone was able to sneak behind him so easily, he could not help but ask her something else.

"Do you see them as well?"

"Oh yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages."

Harry widened his eyes, as he understood the significance of the statement. "Whom did you watch...?" He left the question open-ended.

"My mother. She died when I was nine."

Harry nodded out of sympathy. Luna looked at him simply.

"How did it happen?"

"A charms accident. My mother was an accomplished spell-creator, and was working on something, when it went wrong and she killed herself." If not for the way she was- Harry would have assumed that the girl was almost emotionless.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Is this the first time you are able to see Thestrals?"

Harry nodded.

"Well that makes two of us. People say that thestrals are a bad omen, because only those who have seen Death can see them. I think they are very nice, though." She paused, "though, this is the first time I have seen a thestral as a Patronus."

Harry shrugged.

"You are a very interesting wizard, Harry Potter,"

Harry did not even ask how she knew his name. It was a given. However, her next words stumped him.

"-I mean, you have the horse of Death as your protector. I would have wanted a crumple-horned snorkack as my protector."

Harry flinched at her words. His curiosity piqued, he questioned. "Crumble-horned what?"

Luna stared at him in horror. The boy didn't know! "Crumple. Horned. Snorkack." She paused after each word, allowing him to comprehend it properly.

"Right."

"I can tell you all about them, but if we do not leave now, the school will likely miss seeing a smelly toad."

Harry scrunched his face, trying to decipher what the girl might have meant. "All right." He saw the other students arriving, and not wanting to sit with his friends, he went to the first carriage and sat into it, and Luna climbed back soon after. In matter of minutes, the carriage was full and it set off- horseless as it was, trotting on its own towards the school gates.

He never noticed the faint shimmer of air standing a few steps behind where he was talking with Luna.

The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; it was expected given the whimsical nature of Britain's population, so he tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna drifted away towards the Ravenclaw table as he moved towards the Gryffindor one. Finding a seat next to the twins and their friend Lee Jordan, he sat up comfortably.

"Having trouble, Harrikins?" Fred, or was that George asked. Harry swore to figure it out someday which was which. He nodded, "Just wanting some private time." Fred seemed to understand and dropped the line of questioning.

"So Harry, ready for the mess for this year?" Lee grinned.

"Mess?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Lee bent towards him and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You see Harry, ever since you have come to Hogwarts; there has been continuous entertainment and adventure every year. We were kind of hoping, that you would tell us what you have in mind this year."

"A boring year." Harry drawled. "It will be a good change."

"Fat chance." Fred retorted.

Harry rolled his eyes. He could see Hagrid missing at the staff table. Weasley and Granger had sat a few seats across him. Even from that distance, he could hear them quite well.

"He can't have left," said Weasley, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," said Hermione firmly.

"But where is he, then?"

There was a pause, then Granger said very quietly, or at least what she thought as quiet. "Maybe he's not back yet. You know — from his mission — the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

Harry rolled his eyes. The clumsy couple was indeed funny if they thought themselves as secret agents. With the way they were pouring information all over the place, it was a wonder that the death eaters hadn't yet found and murdered a few Order members. He wondered how long it would take Weasley to jump up on the Astronomy Tower with a megaphone and yell out classified Order information to anyone who would listen.

He looked at the staff table again. His eyes lit first upon Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Harry controlled his anger from lashing out at the sight of the despicable old man. Dumbledore's head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt- squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toad like face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"That's Umbridge." Lee commented, finding Harry staring at her.

"Umbridge?"

"Yeah. She is the Minister's senior undersecretary." The short boy explained.

"Under—what?"

"Undersecretary. Horrible woman. My Dad hates her."

Somehow, Harry couldn't find it within himself to disagree with him. Something about the woman felt odd, almost despicable to him. Perhaps it was because of the over splattering of pink on her robes, something that reminded him about Petunia Dursley, not a very good first impression.

After the rather long and different song sung by the Sorting Hat, the sorting began as he watched the first-years were sorted into their respective Houses. He ignored Weasley's nonsense chatter as he tried to pronounce words while shoving food down his throat. It was so repulsive that Harry wondered for a moment how on earth he ever stayed friends with the Moron- uh, with Ron. He felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak-and-kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favorite treacle tart.

Dumbledore got up. Harry ignored him.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He paused for a moment. There were a few whispers and some clapping. Apparently, no one thought too high about the pink-clad woman. Dumbledore continued. ""Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"

"Hem-Hem!"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, and then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little girlish and once again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("Hem, hem") and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Somehow, I doubt that.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills-"

Harry tuned out, not willing to hear whatever Ministry-enforced propaganda this woman was showering upon everyone. It seemed just like Fudge to send a Ministry enforcer to Hogwarts to suppress his voice.

I doubt Fudge knows that my ideas have changed.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively. Harry tuned in once again.

"Some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability-"

In short, the Ministry was interfering with Hogwarts. The previous Harry would have found it infuriating, but the new Harry could not help but get amusement from it. Speaking of amusement...

I wonder how accountable and effective our new Defense Professor is.

He raised his left hand in an unassuming manner, and focused hard on a single charm that Sirius had told him about, while recollecting his Marauder days. His eyes glowed as the charm took effect. He pushed his arm all the way at the back of his head, rubbing his neck for a moment before bringing his arm down.

Umbridge continued obliviously. "-Intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," Dumbledore said, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held on-"

He had to stop midway because something else had happened.

Just as Umbridge had bowed to the other staff and reached to sit down, a huge drawled out sound reverberated from her posterior, something that sounded like a rather loud fart. The smell that accompanied it suited it ostensibly.

The Great Hall dissolved in peals of laughter, as the great pink woman stood up; her face flushed with embarrassment as she got out of the staff table and hurried herself into the antechamber. Harry could see Mcgonagall glaring daggers at the twins who for a change, looked oblivious to her stare, and were instead busy wondering who it was that was giving them an open challenge in phenomenal pranking.

She does look like a toad. Harry wondered to himself. Then it hit him. A smelly toad? How did she-?

Instantly, his eyes darted off towards the Ravenclaw table where Luna Lovegood was sitting obliviously.

Interesting.

He had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and had come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realized that he did not know the new password.

"Er..." he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him. "No password, no entrance," she said loftily.

"Harry, I know it!" someone panted from behind him, and he turned to see Neville jogging toward him. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once —" He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"

"Correct," said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open toward them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.

The Gryffindor common room looked the same, a cozy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the notice board. Harry waved good night to them and headed straight for the door to the boys' dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talkin. Neville followed him.

Never thought that I would miss my own room more than Gryffindor tower.

He pushed the door abruptly and found Dean and Seamus talking to each other. They stopped instantly as they saw him entering. Wondering how much longer he would have to deal with the whisperings, he ignored the two and went towards his bed.

"Hey, Harry," said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pajamas in the West Ham colors. "Good holiday?"

"Not bad," muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. "You?"

"Yeah, it was okay," chuckled Dean. "Better than Seamus's anyway, he was just telling me."

"Why, what happened, Seamus?" Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.

Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

Understandably, it did not end the conversation. Instead, that resulted in a giant explanation about how his 'mam' thought that Harry was crazy and was fooling around and she did not want him to come to Hogwarts and stay in the same dorm with him.

"Well, you can always take up another dorm." Harry shrugged uncaringly, as he pulled the covers. "Good night, guys." He turned off the light.

Whatever Seamus might have expected, this was not it. Silently, he turned towards Dean who shrugged and then back to Neville who was tending his plant. Not sure what to say, he mumbled 'Good night' and went off to sleep.

The matter did not end over there. The next morning, Harry woke up to find Seamus and Ron (Weasley) shouting at each other. Seamus looked affronted while Ron was red in the face (which translated to being infuriated).

"You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you; you reckon he's telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Ron angrily.

"Then you're mad too," said Seamus in disgust.

"Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!" said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. "So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!"

Had he not discovered his true intentions, Harry would have felt a flush of pride for his friend. Now though... it all seemed like an act. The raw truth hung like a pallor over him.

I have no true friends.

"We believe Harry," Neville said simply. Harry spotted Neville climb out of bed and stride towards Seamus. "My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back."

Of course.

It seemed the old man was having a tough time. He was first thrown out from his position as Supreme Mugwump at the ICW, and then from his position as Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. Normally, one would wonder if the international wizarding community were a bunch of morons to throw off a leader simply because he was saying something they did not want to hear. However, he knew better. There was a reason why people lost their minds, and their logic sense (something wizards did not have in large amounts anyway) when it came to Voldemort. Sirius had explained it to him.

"I don't understand Sirius, why do people lose their minds when it comes to Voldemort?"

Sirius flinched.

"Oh come on, fear of a name-", Harry began, but Sirius cut him off. "Enough of that ridiculous proverb, Harry. The British population, your parents, I, Remus, everyone else, we are not fools. We are not programmed from birth to flinch at his name. There is a definite and horrifying reason for that."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"Volde- Voldemort was by far, the worst dark lord in magical history." Harry was about to interrupt but Sirius gave him a stern gaze, making to stop midway. He continued, "Britain has had its fair share of dark lords, but understand this Harry, there was no one more terrible than him. There is a reason people feared him, still fear him, even though it's over fourteen years since he supposedly died."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because that... that monster, he is immortal. Or whatever comes close to immortality."

"What do you mean?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

Sirius stood by the window. "There have been a lot of dark lords in history. Voldemort was different. He was invincible, he was completely invincible."

"He was scared of Dumbledore." Harry defended, feeling a little odd at defending Dumbledore.

"Bull shit. Dumbledore simply never challenged him to an open battle. I do not know why he did so, but that is the fact. He always defended but never challenged Him directly." His eyes stared into Harry. "A hundred Aurors, including me, surrounded Voldemort on all sides and fired our best curses. His shield blocked out most of our attacks, though some passed through and we saw his hands and legs cut off from the rest of his body. We thought we had won."

Sirius paused.

"The dark lord simply laughed and in a moment, his limbs grew back."

Harry widened his eyes.

"Yes." Sirius replied, his face nostalgic as he remembered the ghastly incident. "We tried everything we could. We even conjured the uncontrollable Fiendfyre to kill him, burn him to shreds. He summoned Fiendfyre of his own and subdued our attack with his. That was the day when the Bones died at his hands."

Harry thought of Susan Bones, his classmate from Hufflepuff.

"Do not think the Aurors were idiots, Harry. We, that is, James, Remus, Lily and I, four of us tried to battle the dark lord many times collectively, and every time, we had to create a diversion and escape. He was simply undefeatable. To attack meant unsurmountable defense. To defend invited overwhelming attack. And the worse was, the moment his attention turned to you, you ceased to exist. If you ran, then he would come after your families. Imagine coming home after a hard day, only to find the treacherous dark mark hanging above your house while your family lay butchered to pieces inside."

Sirius paused. "People fear him for a reason. There is a reason why it is better to imagine that he is gone for good than face the fact that the nightmare isn't over."

Harry just stared at him numbly.

"Just imagine. It took some weird unexplainable thing between you and your mother to vanquish him, and yet he did not die. That is not natural, Harry. That man is a monster. An immortal monster."

Harry stood silent.

"No one ever tried to cast the killing curse at him; I will give you that, because it was illegal for even Aurors to cast Unforgivables. However, everything else was fair game. James, Moody and me fought him on one occasion and even then, we were hard pressed to defeat him. That was when Moody lost his leg. It took us everything we knew just to balance against his attacks, such great was the power. Power which I have felt in only one other person in my life."

"Dumbledore?"

"No." Sirius stared hard at him. "You."

Instantly, Nagnok's words played themselves in his mind. He had uttered about Harry defeating Voldemort in a battle of wills.

"What's a battle of wills, Sirius?" he asked suddenly.

"A power struggle. When two powerful spells are locked in a head-on battle and both fighters are supplying it with power, it becomes a full-on power struggle that ends only when one fighter either breaks the connection or loses."

"Like the one happened at the graveyard?"

"Exactly. Had it been anyone else, Voldemort's spell would have shattered through the spell and hit him. However, it got matched up in a battle of wills against yours, and all you had done was cast an Expelliarmus."

Harry nodded numbly.

"There is a strength in you Harry, more than what you know of. When you have honed all of it, you will have a power more than you can ever imagine."

Even if I stay out of the fight, Voldemort will come for my family and me. Sirius says he is a monster. An immortal monster. I wonder what I have to become if I want to defeat him.

The morning had begun with the entire bustle that could be expected. Granger was busy trying to reprimand the twins about posting and marketing their joke products, while Weasley was bemoaning about how Monday morning had too many classes. Angelina had been made Quidditch Captain, and she informed everyone about how she was keeping new tryout sessions, reminding Harry that he was seeker once again. There were a few jokes and sniggers about the fate of the Umbridge woman the previous night, though no one had yet found out anything about the possible perpetrator.

He was walking to the Great hall for breakfast, ignoring the anxious whispers that seemed to quieten down whenever he was near. He ignored the Ravenclaws that seemed to walk in tighter circles whenever he was near. While he understood that people had a tendency to take the words of the Daily Prophet at face value, this was frankly going beyond acceptable. He turned round the corner and walked straight into the Great Hall.

That was where he met Cho.

"Hey Harry."

Harry felt a flutter in his stomach. He had spent the last two years having a slight crush on the girl, and the fact that she was Cedric's girlfriend did not help matters either. Cedric, the boy who had died and now Harry was being called out as the reason for his death. He did not know what Cho thought about him now.

"Hey."

Cho smiled.

"So... you had a good summer?" he asked tentatively.

Moron. He told himself. That was the last thing he should have been asking. Cedric had died for Merlin's sake. Wondering if he had gotten the habit of putting his foot into his mouth from Ron, he tried to look apologetic but Cho waved him away.

"Oh, it was all right, you know." She replied, though her smile seemed a little forced.

"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron's voice resounded as he stepped up beside him undeclared and demanded suddenly, pointing at the front of Cho's robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

What is he doing here anyway?

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway," she turned to Harry. "See you, Harry."

Harry could not decide whether to kick Weasley for his lack of tact or simply put it to his bad luck. He spun around, realizing just then that he had had a growth spurt in the summer and was now quite tall. Not as much as Ron was, though in his defense, Ron was more dangly than tall.

"What is your problem, Ron?" he hissed with irritation.

Ron looked aback with surprise. "I was just trying to ask her about the Tornadoes, she isn't a real fan and is just-" he went on speaking only to realize that his voice was not coming out.

"Listen to me, Ronald," Harry used his full name in hope that it would get the point across. "Leave me alone. I do not want anything to do with you or Hermione. I have my studies and my education to attend to, and so it would be better if you simply stayed out of my way." Saying that, he sun back and walked off.

Ron continued to struggle against the charm until Hermione came by and dispersed it. "Something wrong?"

"Harry's gone crazy. He silenced me and told me to leave him alone. You saw how he stayed away from us last night at dinner. I think Volde-" he instantly stopped, faced by Hermione's glare, "—you-know-what is affecting him."

Hermione looked at him speculatively.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped. "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry stared back, happy in the knowledge that he would not have to face Snape from the next year.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

Thus had begun a class on procuring the Draught of peace, which Snape described as something that can put a drinker into irreversible sleep if one got heavy-handed with it. A grim pleasure came to Harry's mind as he wondered how good it would be to make Snape drink a 'heavy-handed' potion, but he discarded it. Knowing Snape, he would rather make Harry drink it himself.

As Snape got close to his potion, another prank idea germinated in his mind. He must have had too much exposure to Sirius's presence, he presumed. Remembering the charm he had used on Sirius during the duels, he readied it along.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely, or at least it acted it well.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco Malfoy laughed.

"Yes, I can."

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry read it from the blackboard, though Snape's handwriting was far from legible. He was still wearing glasses, as Sirius had told him to. Nothing like a good deception.

"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, and then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."

Snape sneered. "Did you do that?"

"Yes, professor." This time, slightly confident.

"Then why is your potion having the shade of dull green?

Harry gave him a confused look. "I do not understand, Professor."

Snape's sneer reached greater heights. "It seems that your fame has affected your vision. The draught should be light purple by now, not the dull green shade it is exhibiting at this moment."

Harry looked even more confused.

Snape's sneer almost seemed to tear his lips.

"Uh, Professor," one of the Slytherin girls pointed out. "It is light purple."

Snape spun around. "Has Potter's defects affected you too?" He snarled. "This potion is perfectly dull green as -" he stared at the potion. It was light purple, just as Snape wanted the perfect draught to be.

"Professor?" The Slytherin girl repeated.

"Potter!" Snape barked, "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Why Professor?" Harry gave him his perfectly schooled features.

Snape snarled and yelled, "Class dismissed."