Let's Do It Right This Time, Chapter 17: Asphodel and Wormwood
AN. Bolded words are from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; I do not own any of it.
Aurelius paused in the doorway of the Potions classroom, taking the opportunity afforded by adjusting the strap of his bag to take a good look around. It felt like years since he'd had to worry about seating chart intrigues, as his first few classes had all been with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, except for Herbology, which was hands on and not really suited to such formalities as seating charts. He frowned. The Slytherins were still angry at him for disobeying Madame Hooch and looseing points for Slytherin, and those who saw him looking at them sent him nasty glances, glances that promised comeuppance if he so much as thought about sitting next to them. So much for "keep arguments in house"!
The Gryffs didn't look too happy about partnering with him either; Ron looked like he would rather share a station with a blast-ended skrewt, and Lavender looked scared to death at the idea of sitting next to a "slimy snake". The only other option on the Gryffindor side was Neville. Hmm. Neville was the worst possible partner in potions, but while Aurelius was not a potion master, he was good enough to fix any mistakes the Neville might make flawlessly, without making the boy feel bad. Besides, he'd already partnered with the Gryffindor once before, in Herbology. Neville at least knew he wouldn't try to sabatogue him.
Snape was going to get here any minute now; Aurelius had to make his choice. And so he did. "Um, can I sit with you?"
Total silence fell. It was one thing for a Slytherin to partner with a Gryffindor because a teacher decides the pairings, or because there's no one else to pair with, but for a Gryffindor to voluntarily ask to sit with a Slytherin...obviously he was more a pariah in his house than was first evident. If it had just been Herbology, well, even the Slytherins admitted Neville was top of the class. But Potions?
"Y-yeah," Neville said at last, hesitantly, perhaps knowing what it's like to be left out. Both houses watched Aurelius pull his cauldron and scales out of his bag and set them up, then lay his book and quill beside them and rummage around for spare parchment, all of them staring as though it were some odd mating ritual or such. After a bit, Ron and Seamus started humming a funereal march, while the Lavender muttered "Good luck" to Neville and Hermione frantically revised notes that she technically didn't even need to be taken. The Slytherins simply giggled and talked and passed notes at their leasure, knowing Snape would always be indulgent. And through it all, Aurelius simply watched. He hadn't had a chance to confirm his theory yet was because this was his first class, but if he had to hazard a guess, Snape would either rip into Neville because he was the Chosen One in absentia, or he would leave him alone because he was sitting with a Slytherin. Aurelius was honestly genuinely curious which one he would take.
At that moment, Snape swept into the classroom, robes billowing behind him. For a moment he surveyed the classroom, black eyes glittering with what could be attributed to malice. Or to bitterness.
In total silence, Snape glided to his place behind his desk, his dark glare instantly silencing the chattering Gryffindors. ""You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Aurelius actually had to keep himself from grinning like a goof as he listened; this was one thing that had stayed the same despite all his changes. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Neville was staring at the professor nervously, like a rabbit watching a cobra dance, while Hermione scribbled furiously as though to prove she was not a dunderhead. Most of the Slytherins were smirking smugly.
Snape, having finished his spiel, glanced around the room, and Aurelius winced internally. Snape was as much a master of invective as a master of potions, and with the hunt for Harry Potter still going on, he likely wanted to vent frustration. That, of course, would have the added benefit of putting his first years in their place.
Aurelius was admittedly relieved when Snape glanced past his table, only throwing Neville a hooded but curious look. Aurelius guessed that Snape knew he, Aurelius, was an unknown variable, and that the thought of taunting the alternate Chosen One was less appealing because the boy was petrified and wouldn't be amusing to target.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape snapped abruptly. "Where might a bezoir be found?"
Interesting. Aurelius straightened, then dog-eared the page he'd been taking notes on and got a new piece of parchment for his observations, carefully scribbling bullet points in parcelscript so Neville, or any random Slytherin who stole his notes for that matter, couldn't read it. So with Harry absent, Ron was Snape's next target to rile up. What was more interesting was that the question was actually in the textbook, unlike the first question Snape had asked Harry in the last timeline- something about The Drought of Living Death?
And then Aurelius abruptly froze, mouth falling open. Asphodel and wormwood. Asphodel and wormwood were the two main components in the Drought of Living Death, but they also had significance unrelated to potions. Hadn't Lavender gone on and on about Victorian flower language? Asphodels are a type of Lily. So...it sounded impossible, but then, it was a very Slytherin thing to do. Harry scribbled a bit more, crossing out alternate meanings when he remembered another, just to make sure. It was irrevocable. I bitterly regret Lily's death, He scrawled in English on the scrap of parchment. Holy Merlin, had he actually been giving him a coded message, about Lily, of all things? Or was this just some waggish god playing a nasty joke?
"Obviously you didn't think to read your textbook then," Snape was saying as Aurelius abruptly refocused, trying not to think about the strange mystery. After all, the other timeline's Snape was dead, and he'd never actually be able to ask him if he meant anything by it. "Mr. Longbottom, what is the difference between aconite and wolfbane?" Snape asked, moving on. Neville simply stared at him, his hands shaking ever so slightly, and Aurelius hurriedly cast a wandless calming charm on the Gryffindor, hoping Neville knew it from Herbology. Obviously he wouldn't cheat, but if it was just a matter of getting Neville relaxed enough to answer...
"Th-they're the same, right? Also called monkshood or Tyr's helm?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"T-telling you, sir."
Snape gave the merest suggestion of an approving nod and moved on. "Miss Brown, why must sweetener never be added to a Chastity Solution?"
Seconds stretched by. Hermione waved her hand in the air from the back row.
"Well?"
"I d-don't know, sir."
"Perhaps you should have been reading your text instead of chattering with Miss Patil then, hmm? Let's try again: what is the main ingredient in a Duplicating Draught?"
"I don't know sir."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "What is mandrake most often used in?"
"I don't know sir. I think Hermione knows, though-"
"I wasn't asking Miss Granger. For future reference, sweetener counteracts the main ingredient in a Chastity Solution, which is bloodroot, the main ingredient in a Duplicating Draught is spider eggs," (Ron shuddered) "and mandrake is most often used in restorative potions. Well? Why isn't anyone writing this down?"
There was a hurried rummaging through bags and crinkling of parchment, mixed with a muffled curse as Seamus's sleeve knocked a bottle of ink over onto his potion book. Snape took five points for wasting materials and waved his wand to put a simple boil curing salve on the board. And, unnoticed, Aurelius''s observation sheet slipped off his desk to rest under it.
Aurelius leaned closer to Neville as they both copied down the recipe. "Do you want to get the ingredients, or should I?"
Neville blinked owlishly back at him, still a little under the influence of the calming charm. "Uh, sure, I'll get them."
Aurelius managed an inaudible sigh of relief. It was likely that he would need to coach Neville a little, but he didn't want to seem patronizing. Fortunately Neville seemed willing to go along with it.
Neville returned shortly with their ingredients, and soon they were chopping and slicing and mincing away, Aurelius occasionally stopping to correct Neville's technique or give him a pointer or two, telling him it was just like cooking. And all the while a dark figure watched curiously, approving.
And then they were brewing. It was decided within the first ten minutes that they were going to take turns reading aloud and tending to the potion, which thankfully allowed Aurelius to correct any mistakes Neville might have made, and since Neville was still serenely calm, he didn't make many. As a result, they were quickly the farthest along in the class (not least because Aurelius might have used a NEWT-level shortcut. That is, they were the farthest along until Draco interfered.
Aurelius had gone to the supply cabinet to get a vial of dragon's blood, and as a result, he returned to their station only just in time to see a slippery something land in their mutual cauldron, splattering a nervous Neville. Aurelius acted instantly.
"Down!" He snapped, yanking Neville to the floor as hot liquid splattered everywhere. It did not seem to have adverse effects, but that didn't mean Aurelius wanted it all over himself and his partner. Snape swept over to clean up, but Aurelius was already there, cleaning it up with a few potion safe cleaning charms. Then he glanced around the room. He didn't even need legillimancy. Draco Malfoy was telegraphing his involvement with a smug smile, a glint in the eye. He probably thought it would teach both the mutinying Slytherin and the blood traitor squib a lesson. Aurelius seethed.
"Heir Malfoy," he snapped at length, "kindly refrain from dropping anymore crocodile hearts into other people's cauldrons. All it does is blow up Professor Snape's classroom."
Draco's mouth opened and shut in a manner reminiscent of a mud puppy. Snape angerly deducted a total of ten points from Slytherin, making the Gryffindor section gasp, and gave Draco a stern and angry look that promised worse punishments in private. Then he gave Aurelius twenty points for his quick action, and Neville five for helping, which seemed to break a good number of the Slytherins' worldviews. He might have done more, but at that moment the bell rang, and the students, all except for Draco, were free to pack up and go. Aurelius nearly missed Snape's speculative glance as he packed and left for dinner; he was eavesdropping on the Gryffindor firsties.
"Bad luck, Neville, sorry you had to sit with the Slythers'," Ron was saying.
"It wasn't that bad..." Aurelius felt rather sorry for Neville, having to defend him.
"Oh c'mon now, that Gaunt boy is evil."
Dean joined the conversation: "How do you know?"
"They all are, Gaunts, I mean. It's a really Dark family. Plus, I mean, he's a Slytherin!"
Aurelius sighed internally at Ron's prejudice. He'd forgotten about that. Damn. This would make everything just a little bit harder.
"I'm not saying Gaunt's an angel, but he's better than Malfoy," Seamus put in his two cents. "Not sure I trust him, though."
"A horned slug is better than Malfoy," was Ron's only comment. Nevertheless, warmth blossomed in the listening Slytherin's chest, a warmth he had not felt in a long time. It was a start. Now, if only he could get Ron not to hate him...
Meanwhile, back in the classroom, Professor Snape had finished reprimanding Draco. As the dour teacher was leaving, he suddenly caught sight of a piece of parchment half hidden under Mr. Gaunt's desk. A piece of parchment covered with wavy scratches of ink, all except for five English words: I bitterly regret Lily's death.