Their first lesson before detention with Professor McGonagall was potions with Snape. Harry was nervous, as he had got some distinctly unpleasant vibes from the potions master, during the Sorting Ceremony. His slimy black hair and thin crooked nose gave him the appearance of a man who Harry could imagine murdering students in their sleep.

Draco, meanwhile, seemed to be fizzing with excitement.

"Father says Snape is the best teacher at Hogwarts," He had told Harry eagerly. "He says he concocted the best Ageing Potion he had ever seen,"

"Not sure that's such a compliment for the potion's drinker," Harry had murmured in reply under his breath. He was growing tired of hearing Draco talk about Snape at every opportunity.

The pair were now waiting with the other students to enter the classroom, Harry sweating anxiously whilst Draco danced around in nervous anticipation.

The door to the potions classroom opened.

"You may enter," Said a cold, harsh voice.

"It's him!" Draco squealed.

"I'm impressed, Malfoy," Harry said. "Your observation skills are on point,"

Draco ignored his friend as the students piled into the classroom. They shared a table between themselves, placing their cauldrons above a Bunsen burner.

Snape stood at the front of the class, his eyes darting around the room, as though searching for a victim.

He cleared his throat, and began:

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition...I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death,"

His eyes met Harry's at the back of the room.

"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention! Mister Potter. Our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Draco clocked Harry's clueless look.

"Asphodel and Wormwood give you the Draught of the Living Death," He whispered in His ear.

Harry stared Snape directly in the eye.

"The Draught Of Living Death, sir,"

Snape gave a bemused expression; Harry had to stop himself laughing at Snape's surprise. His plan to humiliate him hadn't worked.

"Very good, Potter. Maybe you won't be as big a disappointment as your father after all..."

Harry turned to Draco.

"Thanks,"

"It was nothing, Potter," Draco whispered back.

"Now today, we will be learning to brew the Cure for Boils," Snape addressed the class. "It is in your best interests to brew this correctly, unless you wish to suffer nasty boils to your body,"

Snape gave a nasty smirk at the last sentence, as he began to scrawl the instructions on the board.

Potions went better than Harry had anticipated, as he worked with Draco on the boils potion. They had agreed that Harry would act as the guinea pig, to test their new potion, which had left Harry feeling somewhat jittery.

Fortunately, their potions brewing had proven a major success. Snape described their efforts as the best concoction he had ever witnessed in his classroom, which had made Draco blush, and Gryffindor's Hermione Granger very jealous. It was a well-earned ten points for Slytherin, placing the house in front of Ravenclaw for the first time this semester.

Draco was especially giddy following the lesson, until Harry reminded him about their detention.

"I'd forgotten we still had to see that old hag," He moaned. "I bet she makes us clean the goblets from the Great Hall or something,"

"You would be correct, Mr Malfoy," Came a stern voice from behind them.

They glanced around to find Professor McGonagall waiting for them in the courtyard.

"Follow me, boys. You will be assisting the house elves tonight in cleaning the dishes,"

Harry couldn't resist asking McGonagall about the Sorting Hat's unusual remarks, as she led them to the kitchens. He had a strange feeling she knew something about what the quirky headpiece had implied.

"Professor, at the Sorting Ceremony the hat said in another universe I was a Gryffindor. What did it mean?" He asked curiously, as he followed her with Draco towards a magnificent painting of a bowl of fruit.

"I shouldn't think it concerns you, Mr Potter," She said curtly. "The Sorting Hat has access to magic far beyond this realm. However, this magic is also extremely dangerous, so you would be wise to steer clear from such harmful spells,"

Draco glanced up at the professor, his curiosity piqued.

"Dangerous how, professor?"

"There have been many cases where a wizard has attempted to cross realities, and each one has sent the spellcaster delirious," Mcgonagall tickled the pair on the painting, and turned the green handle. "Here we are. You will assist the house elves for an hour before returning to your common room. Is that clear?"

Harry and Draco nodded.

"Good," She said. I'll see you for Transfiguration tomorrow,"

It was a long and boring evening, as the boys wiped the plates clean from the evening feast. The sixty minutes felt like an eternity, with the house elves having prohibited Harry and Draco from using magic to speed up the process, and Harry was beginning to feel tired.

"This is so humiliating," Draco moaned. "I can't believe we're being made to do house elf work,"

"I'm used to it," Said Harry. "I do the Dursley's dishes all the time,"

"You need a house elf," Draco began drying one of the many goblets lying on the surface with a tea towel decorated after the Chudley Cannons. "Dobby does all ours at home,"

"So what do you think McGonagall meant, about the 'harmful spells'?" Harry asked his friend. "Can't be that dangerous, surely?"

Draco shrugged.

"I don't know, but I kind of want to find out. How about you and me take a trip to the restricted section, Potter?"

"We'd never get permission," Harry scrubbed the last piece of cutlery. "If only we could turn ourselves invisible..."