Disclaimer: Sadly I still don't own anything.
I should probably warn anyone reading that I plan to add a bit more to my characters than just dragging an identical set of personality traits straight from the real series. In other words some characters may seem a little different, but I promise meaningful reasons, not just unprovoked verbal assaults on innocent fiction.
Chapter 3
'Welcome back to potions.' Snape's drawl was the only thing really capable of penetrating the gloom of the dungeons and Harry repressed the urge to sigh. No doubt the insufferable professor would be continuing his best efforts to make this class the worst it possibly could be for him.
'This,' Snape continued, 'is the year before OWLs and thus the year in which those who truly have the talent for potions begin to separate themselves from those too lazy to apply themselves to such a delicate art.' Harry didn't need to look up to know that the eyes of his professor were fixed on him.
Where does he get his impression of me from?
Harry had barely set foot in the castle before Snape was trying to make his life miserable. Presumably the man just had severe personal issues. Harry couldn't imagine all the time in the dark or the constant exposure to toxic ingredients was good for anyone's health, mental or otherwise.
'The instructions are on the board,' Snape flourished his wand over dramatically to dispel the illusion there. 'Begin,' he sneered.
Harry sighed and reached for his new, more expensive, silver-plated knife. He had learned over the summer that buying potions equipment of inert metals of high quality was every bit as important as cleaning them properly afterwards. He suspected many of his poorer efforts were due to leaving early in disgust with Snape rather than staying to clean. His new set of materials would find themselves looked after far more carefully.
Ron was slaving over his cauldron on the closest bench with all the delicacy of a confounded troll. His neatly diced toad liver had gone in misshapen chunks and Harry was fairly sure he had added almost twice as much sneezewort as necessary.
It might be a good idea to finish before that explodes, he decided.
Leeches were the key to this potion. They tended to either be too quick to dissolve or too slow, and the size and shape in which they were added had to be next to perfect. They were also very easily contaminated by anything they touched. This was something that Malfoy, in all his pure-blooded perfection had seemed to grasp, as he was attempting to cut his in mid air while poor Pansy Parkinson held them and flinched away from the ornately engraved knife he wielded. Harry had heard somewhere that the two were eventually supposed to be engaged as many pure-blooded families arranged and thought Malfoy might have been a little more concerned about his future fiancé's looks if not her well being.
Harry grinned at Malfoy's ridiculous efforts and returned to his own potion. He had two knives and the older would work as a makeshift chopping board. Carefully he sliced his leeches, trying his best to avoid letting any of the slimy creature touch the desk, or anything else, before adding them.
To his delight the potion gradually changed colour, slowly shifting towards the described shimmering turquoise. Taking a sneak peak at Hermione's as he carefully prepared a vial he fancied that he had done just as well as she had. Her's was a little closer to the exact shade of turquoise yes, but he fancied his had had more of a shimmer to it.
Stoppering his flask and noting with some glee that he was the first to finish, something that would definitely annoy Snape, he made his way to the front of the class.
Professor Snape gave only a dismissive sneer as he placed his vial in the rack, but Harry was certain he could feel his eyes tracking him on his way back to his desk.
When he turned around, however, he found Snape had moved on to lurk ominously over Neville's attempts. Hovering over Neville was something Snape seemed to enjoy and the poor boy immediately cracked under his teacher's oppressive scrutiny. The potion went from a passable deep blue to a shade of yellow so sickly and bright it attracted the attention of most of the class.
'Longbottom,' Snape tutted. 'It was going passably well, but your utterly inescapable ineptitude has proven itself... again.' He swept back past Harry to his gloom shrouded desk, passing an oddly curious eye over his attempt to leave his cauldron immaculately clean.
Hermione finished next, then Malfoy and soon most of the class were making some half-hearted attempt to clean their cauldrons while Neville desperately tried to rescue whatever concoction he had produced this time.
It was a sort of bright, lime green when he eventually gave up, better, admittedly, than yellow, but nowhere close to the required turquoise. The colour reminded him of the scales of the basilisk still lying in the Chamber of Secrets and he was suddenly struck by the desire to go and see it. Partially out of curiosity because he couldn't remember what it had looked like after all the adrenaline and venom, but mostly because he wanted to compare it to how he remembered the serpent he had summoned from the ash.
Most of the potions on Snape's rack of vials for submission were some sort of blue-green variant, but only a handful came close to his own. Hermione's, Malfoy's and Greengrass' to name a few. He took a little bit of pride in such an improvement from so little effort over the summer. It wouldn't help him with the essays, however.
'If that is everyone you may leave,' Snape drawled from a particularly dark corner. Somehow he had crossed the classroom without anyone noticing and Harry wondered if he didn't sneak along the line of heavy, black curtains beneath his cloak when nobody was paying attention. He suppressed a snort of humour at the image.
'I won't bother assessing your work, Longbottom, don't worry.'
Harry winced as he made his way towards the door, he'd come away relatively unscathed from Snape, but Neville seemed to have taken his place instead.
'Potter, remain behind if you'd be so kind.'
I knew it was too good to be true.
Snape was looming over the rack of vials when he turned back.
'What do you think this is, Potter?' he sneered.
'My inevitably ungradeable attempt at potions making,' he tried, unable to fully quell the humour of before.
'This,' Snape gave him a surprisingly neutral stare, 'is a passable attempt. Not the standard I expect from students looking to continue after OWLs, but close enough that I might begin to hope of keeping the school's most prominent celebrity a little longer.'
That sounded almost like a backhanded compliment.
'Thank you, sir,' he responded uncertainly.
'My teaching has nothing to do with your improvement, Potter,' Snape snapped. 'You finally deciding to apply what I've been fruitlessly filling your head with is promising, but no less than the wizarding world demands from someone of your elated stature. Do not slip back into your previous levels of mediocrity.'
'I'll try my best, sir,' Harry replied, eager to be on his way to Transfiguration. Professor Mcgonagall was unsympathetic to late students and Snape was never going to provide him with a excusing note.
'See that you do.' His potions professor disappeared into his office in an unnecessary if impressive swirl of cloak and robes.
Right.
Professor Mcgonagall had given him a somewhat disapproving glance when he slipped onto the back row of desks a few moments after the lesson had started, but she hadn't said anything or deducted points. It was possible that she knew he had just come from potions.
A cage of rather innocent looking guinea fowl clucked from atop her desk. The birds didn't look anywhere near alarmed enough for whatever was about to happen to them.
'Today, we will be transfiguring guinea fowl into guinea pigs.' Their stern professor flicked her wand and the cages floated across to deposit themselves in front of each student. 'This type of transformation is as complex as any we will attempt this year.'
The level of clucking swiftly escalated as the class fell to a comical level of desperate wand waving. Harry eyed his bird curiously. He had on occasion wondered exactly where the creatures they transfigured in this class came from.
Probably the kitchens in this case, he decided.
His guinea fowl did look surprisingly plump, but, out of a desire to not eat whatever Neville created, he would be avoiding poultry for the next few meals.
'Very good, Miss Granger, take ten points,' Professor Mcgonagall's voice rang out.
Ten points seemed slightly generous since Hermione's guinea pig did still have the occasional feather and its feet seemed to have retained a slightly birdlike, taloned aspect to them. Hermione didn't seem to care though and glowed with pride.
Nobody else in the rest of the class had come anywhere close, though Seamus had somehow managed to change his fowls feathers green and Ron's had plucked itself. Ron was probably considering lunch from the look of things.
'Harry,' Hermione nudged him, 'aren't you even going to try? It's not that hard you know.'
Time to put my summer of study to use.
Slipping his wand from his sleeve Harry tapped the guinea fowl on the head, earning himself a sharp, annoyed cluck from the bird.
'That's not the proper wand action, Harry,' Hermione began exasperatedly, but whatever else she had been going to say was lost as his bird changed into a perfect guinea pig.
Harry shot her a beatific smile.
'But that was your first try,' Hermione stuttered. 'It took me almost five.'
'Five,' Harry pulled a shocked expression, 'it's not that hard you know.'
See how she likes it. You shouldn't rub your success in others' faces.
Hermione huffed and turned away to watch Ron whose guinea fowl was beginning to look more and more like it had been roasted. It was making Harry quite hungry, but he was sure it would restore Hermione's confidence in her abilities. Nobody else in the class had really improved.
'Well done, Mr Potter.' Harry jumped as Professor Mcgonagall appeared over his shoulder. 'Twenty points to Gryffindor for a perfect species-switch transfiguration. I daresay you might have inherited your father's talent for my subject as well as his tendency to overlook the rules.'
Hermione looked distinctly put out with his reward and he hid his smile. She couldn't be the best all the time.
'I can't believe you did that on your first try, Harry,' she congratulated him after a moment. 'That's really lucky. If only Ron was as fortunate as you.'
Lucky. Is she really incapable of accepting that someone might have done better than her? Harry decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. In three years he had never demonstrated any of his unfulfilled potential, so to suddenly exceed expectations might well come across as a stroke of luck.
A loud bang from the row behind drew the attention of most of the class. Neville's increasingly frustrated attempts had lead to him knocking his guinea fowl cage off the desk with his arm, spilling Seamus bottle of water.
'Mr Longbottom,' their transfiguration professor lamented, 'focus on the outcome you desire, don't just wave your wand like a baby's rattle.'
The spilt water was streaming towards Hermione's bag, which was no doubt full of books and notes.
A disaster in the making.
He vanished the encroaching liquid before it could ruin his friend's things and Hermione, who had been scrambling to retrieve anything from the water's path gave a loud sigh of relief.
'Thank you, professor,' she exclaimed loudly.
'Pardon me, Miss Granger,' Professor Mcgonagall responded from her desk, her wand rather unhelpfully placed out of reach for her to claim the credit for his timely intervention.
'Nothing, professor,' Hermione said confusedly, catching sight of her wand. 'Vanishing is an advanced fifth year spell,' she muttered to herself as she carefully rummaged through her bag to ensure nothing was damaged. 'I can't do a vanishing spell yet. If I could I would use it on Ron's stupid quidditch posters.'
Harry laughed and turned away, returning his wand to his sleeve again. What Hermione didn't know wouldn't vex her, or, more likely, drive her to the library for a week to research vanishing charms.
He spent the remainder of the class watching Neville, his face screwed up with concentration, trying to remove his guinea pigs remaining feathers and Ron, whose guinea fowl's appearance grew more and more food-like as lunch approached. Hermione meanwhile had taken to jabbing her wand frustratedly at small pieces of parchment and snapping the incantation for the vanishing spell under her breath. She had managed to make the edges of the torn fragment fade a little as they packed away to leave, but her lack of success reassured Harry that he was still well on his way to reaching the level he needed to be.
There was no poultry at lunch, something for which Harry was quite relieved for and Ron seemed distinctly disheartened by. No doubt his red-haired friend had spent most of their transfiguration imagining how his guinea fowl would taste rather how it would become a guinea pig.
'What did Snape want?' Neville asked him between bites of a precariously made sandwich.
'Told me my work was finally passable and that I shouldn't slide back into mediocrity,' Harry replied, as several slices of radish escaped Neville's lunch and made a bid for freedom across the table. They only rolled as far as Ron who gratefully accepted the contribution to his meal.
'That was awfully nice of him,' Ron sniggered. 'Did he deduct points to compensate as well?'
'No. He didn't take any points off me today actually.'
'Odd, normally at least ten are gone in our first potions lesson, maybe he was happy about something and forgot.' Seamus had a point. Harry invariably cost his house at least ten points every potions session, though he felt more of the blame lay with Snape than with him.
'What would Snape be happy about?' Ron asked incredulously through a mouthful of cold beef.
'He's probably anticipating failing all our OWL exams,' Neville cut in gloomily. 'My gran will kill me if I don't get at least 6 OWLs like my father.'
'It's two years away, Nev,' Ron exclaimed. 'Harry has to go through two near-death experiences first, you've got a huge edge.' The table laughed with the exception of Hermione who was still trying to vanish her piece of parchment with a single-minded determination Harry had rarely seen even from her.
'I've had my one for this year, thanks,' Harry interceded.
'It doesn't count, mate,' Ron countered. 'The Bulgarian cheerleader cancels it out.' The guys nodded in agreement.
'She wasn't that gorgeous, Ron,' Harry defended. 'And all she did was carry me while I was unconscious. Hardly anything to be proud of.'
'She was a veela, Harry,' Dean said. 'Those legends about the sirens in the Odyssey are supposed to be based on veela. You've outdone Ulysses.' That brought blank looks from those raised in the magical world.
'It's a really famous story,' Dean exclaimed. 'How could you have not heard of it? Harry, Hermione, back me up, everyone knows about the Iliad and the Odyssey.'
Hermione didn't stir from her attempts at vanishing and Harry was beginning to feel rather guilty.
I suppose I should come clean.
He leaned over Hermione's shoulder to tap his wand against the small fragment of parchment and watched with a small smile as it immediately faded from existence. Hermione whirled around like a viper.
'How did you do that?' she hissed. 'I've been trying since transfiguration.'
'It's not too tricky, you just have to visualise what you want to happen and really focus when you perform the spell.' He shrugged rather helplessly. 'It's like all magic really, but it affects transfiguration more.' She looked scandalised by his casual description and reached for another piece of parchment.
Harry caught her hand. 'It's an advanced OWL year spell, Hermione, plenty of time to practise later. Can't have you starving, and someone needs to help Dean and I defend the Odyssey.'
'The Odyssey,' she responded blankly.
'See,' Ron crowed. 'Hermione doesn't know about it and that means virtually nobody does.'
His friend went rather pink, but shook her head. 'I know about the Odyssey, Ron, it's one of the most famous stories ever written and it's over two thousand years old, but I have no idea why you're all talking about it.'
'Dean said there are veela in it,' Seamus explained rather bravely.
'Are attractive, part-human women all you people think about it,' his friend retorted testily, the flush fading to a more indignant expression. 'I assume he was referring to the sirens that Ulysses encounters.' Harry nodded. 'He's probably right,' she acquiesced after a moment, 'but you can't still be thinking about the Bulgarian cheerleaders, their charm only works when you're looking at them.'
'They were goddesses,' Ron defended, adopting a rather dreamy expression, before bursting into laughter at the reactions of both Hermione and the passing group of Gryffindor girls.
The guys began whisper about the beauty of veela as Ron explained and related the actions of the referee at the World Cup. As much as Harry wanted to join in the discussion his memory of the event revolved all too closely around his close encounter with that Death Eater.
'How did you get so good at transfiguration,' Hermione asked him in a surprisingly humble tone.
'I spent the summer reading up on all the theory,' Harry explained. 'I never bothered before as I'd just picture what I wanted to happen and with a bit of practice I'd get the hang of it. I did it for all our subjects, but I'd imagine transfiguration will be one of my best now since it's quite intent based and very visual. My dad was supposed to be really good at it.'
'Oh,' Hermione nodded, seeming to accept his honest answer. 'I didn't know he was so good at transfiguration.'
'He and his friends were animagi during their mid-school years, Hermione,' Harry laughed. 'Even basic human transfiguration isn't covered until our last two years, let alone full animagus transformations.'
'I guess that does make sense.' Hermione seemed to be struggling with something. 'It's good you've started studying seriously,' she added. She didn't seem completely pleased with it, a touch too bitter to be just impressed.
'Time for charms,' Ron sighed, throwing one forlorn glance back into the Great Hall.
Charms was still in Flitwick's well lit room beside the central tower and thus only a short walk away. It was one of the more useful subjects, but Harry hadn't spent particularly long reading up on it over the summer in comparison to the other subjects and wasn't actually sure what material they would be covering.
'Repairing, summoning and banishing charms,' Flitwick squeaked quite excitedly from his perch at the front of the class when they had all entered and settled down. Harry blinked. Hermione was going to be angry with him again. He knew both of the first two, learning the first to help him with his glasses over the summer and then reading about the second in sufficient detail to perform it at the World Cup.
'We'll be starting with the mending charm and moving on to the others after christmas,' the tiny professor explained, waving his wand to reveal his year plan on the board.
'A theory lesson,' Ron groaned quietly from beside him. Even Hermione seemed a little let down. She was already capable of performing this charm. It was her use of it to fix his glasses that had initially inspired him to learn it, but at least she wasn't going to get bitter about his improvement as she had done in transfiguration.
The soft scratching of quills soon filled the room as the class resigned themselves to only taking notes. Harry flicked a little further through the textbook to the banishing charm, noting with a touch of amusement that Hermione had already done so.
The banishing charm was really only the reverse of the summon charm and after a cursory glance through the chapters on its specifics and a cheerful skipping of the history of the charm Harry decided to quietly try it himself.
Withholding as much of his magic as possible he whispered the incantation and aimed it at the ink pot of Zacharias Smith, a rather pretentious Hufflepuff. A soft ripple of air crossed the class and the ink pot gently slid across the desk to the far side, spilling ink across Zacharias' notes.
Smiling, Harry returned his wand to his sleeve just as the Hufflepuff student look around indignantly. Charms wasn't going to be too much of a stretch for him this year as long as there were only a few essays.
The spilt ink had spattered a familiar, poisonous green across the parchment Zacharias was waving angrily in the direction of Professor Flitwick. It wasn't too far from Ancient Runes to the first floor girls' bathroom. He could sneak out and satisfy his desire to see Slytherin's serpent on the way to class tomorrow morning after breakfast.
Hermione perked up through the lesson, clearly glad to be back into the rhythm of taking notes and was even happy enough to let him borrow them tomorrow when he asked after class. Harry didn't really need the notes for the charm itself, but Flitwick's first homework of the year, six inches on the applicability of the mending charm, could be easily summarised from his friend's overzealous note collection.
'Did you flick any further through the book?' she questioned him eagerly on their way back to the common room.
'Not really,' he admitted, 'nothing more than a skim through the summoning and banishing charm. I was curious, but they both looked quite useful.'
'They do,' Hermione agreed, seeming glad of having someone to discuss more advanced topics with all of a sudden. She seemed to have gotten over her surprise at his improvement and come to terms her newfound competition. 'Summoning is one of the most useful charms, it will save everyone so much time at the library.'
'Madam Pince will murder you if she catches you summoning books, Hermione,' Harry grinned.
'What she doesn't know won't upset her,' Hermione gestured vaguely, 'it doesn't hurt the books, so it's fine.' She bounced animatedly along the corridor, alongside him as a puzzled Ron trailed behind them.
'Harry,' she began as they reached the portrait-covered entrance to their common room. 'In return for lending my notes for essays would you give me some pointers for casting the spells themselves?'
'Of course,' he agreed readily. 'You don't really need them, but if you want.'
'I understand all the theory, of course, but my spells never work first time. I thought it might be worth trying how you visualise them.'
'It's just a good way of focusing the intent that has to accompany your magic,' Harry explained. 'I've some mind-clearing exercises that are supposed to help your focus. I can teach you those.'
'That's a good idea,' Hermione enthused. 'Ron needs those. All he does is think about how long is left until the next meal.'
Ron threw her a mutinous look, but didn't actually deny her accusation. His friend couldn't really argue with it after his attempt to transfigure his guinea fowl into something resembling lunch earlier.
'I'm going to the library,' Hermione decided. 'I want to get the essay out of the way before all the other professors give their first homework as well. Come on Ron.' She skipped out through the portrait, trailed by a rather crestfallen Ron who had probably been looking forward to relaxing by the fire.
They had left him alone in the common room so he pulled a chair up close to the fire with the intention of waiting for the others to come back down from the dormitories. Staring into the fire reminded him of the camp at the World Cup and, unable to resist his curiosity, he retrieved his wand.
Picturing the serpent he had conjured from the ash he slashed his wand violently at the fire. Nothing happened.
Never one to give up straight away, Harry imagined the basilisk forming from fire instead and repeated the wand action.
The head of the flaming basilisk lunged at him from the fireplace, fangs agape, and he threw himself backwards out of his chair.
It flared out of existence the moment he looked away from the fire and he pushed himself back to his feet, swearing under his breath and brushing at his singed robes.
Standing his chair back up he firmly replaced his wand up his sleeve to avoid temptation, but he couldn't ignore the shiver of excitement he felt. He had done it again, with fire no less. Harry couldn't wait to try conjuring it again in the Chamber of Secrets.
AN: Please read and review. A heartfelt thanks to those who already have.
