Author's Note: Having gotten onto the third book since I wrote this, I realised that there's a slightly similar scene there where Neville ruins a potion. I assure you, this is entirely coincidently. Honest...You believe me, don't you?



NEVILLE'S NEW LOOK

If luck had been with Harry somewhat during Transfiguration, it had quite abandoned him by the time Potions came round.

As always, Snape was in a foul mood. And Harry, sitting there yawning his head off, was the perfect outlet for his peevish disposition.

He probably would have been all right had he been working with Ron or Hermione, but he ended up paired with Neville and disaster was only a matter of time.

Neville was collecting and sorting the ingredients, while Harry was stirring them together in the cauldron. They were meant to be concocting a plant growth potion and demonstrating it on the geraniums they had each been given.

Harry continued to stir listlessly, his mind elsewhere, as Neville put the ingredients in. Knowing Neville's talent for getting things quite spectacularly wrong, Harry would usually carefully watch everything the other boy did. In wizard studies, getting things wrong was not only bad for your marks, it was also potentially hazardous to your well-being. Who knew what you could mix together? He recalled one of their first Charms classes last year. They had only meant to be floating a feather. Neville, on the other hand, had said just slightly the wrong word, resulting in a rather impressive explosion and a very frazzled looking Neville.

Today, however, Harry had other things on his mind and he paid no attention to what the other boy was doing until a worried voice said his name.

"Er....Harry?"

He blinked his eyes a few times, focusing them away from dark, hooded figures and back into the dungeon. He looked up at Neville who was peering cautiously into the cauldron.

"Is it meant to be bubbling like that?"

Harry frowned and stood up, sneaking a look into the cauldron himself. No, it shouldn't. And it should be green, not purple.

His mind panicking just a little, Harry backed away a few cautious steps. He'd best call Snape over. While the prospect of him sneering over them as he corrected their mistakes was hardly a pleasant one, he was sensible enough to know they shouldn't be messing around with things they didn't understand.

Neville, however, seemed to have no such sense of self preservation. He peered closer into the cauldron, a puzzled look on his face.

"Neville," Harry warned, "Maybe you shouldn't get so clos-".

Which was when the contents of the cauldron erupted and sprayed directly into the unfortunate boy's face.

There were startled squeals from a number of the girl's in the room as the area around Harry and Neville was doused in a bulbous cloud of purple smoke. By the time it had cleared, Snape was towering over Harry and some of the other students had gathered round to see what they'd done.

As soon as they saw, the Gryffindor's - fearful of Snape - tried to suppress their giggling. Meanwhile the Slytherin's were lead in raucous guffaws by Draco Malfoy. Harry looked concerned and a little scared. Snape appeared coldly furious. Neville simply looked confused.

But that was probably because he was the only one who couldn't see that his eyebrows had grown about five times in size and turned bright purple.

"Mr Longbottom," Snape said, coldly, the laughter immediately dying down, "I suggest you remove yourself to the infirmary. Escort him up there, Miss Granger and explain to Madam Pomfrey what happened. And if you do not return in five minutes I will be taking points from Gryffindor."

Herimone jumped as though she'd been prodded with a cattle pole. Taking charge of Neville she lead him out of the room, as he worriedly asked her what had happened to him.

Snape turned his gaze on Harry and held it there for a very long moment. Harry was afraid he might be turned to stone.

"Pray tell me, Potter, how exactly you managed that remarkable feat." Snape had a very soft voice, but somehow managed to infuse it with the maximum amount of menace.

"I....I don't know, sir," he stuttered, wondering how he could be so brave in front of a horror like Voldemort, and yet Snape could send him to pieces.

"I had given you the ingredients," Snape continued, still pinning him with his gaze, "The only error can have been in the stirring. Who was stirring your potion, Potter?"

Harry stomach sank to his toes. This definitely couldn't be good. "I was, sir."

"Were you stirring it clockwise or anti-clockwise?"

Harry blinked a couple of times in surprise. Did it make a difference? Stirring was stirring, right? He couldn't remember Snape saying anything about the direction of the stir.

"Well?" Snape prompted, sharply.

Harry sighed, admitting defeat and resigned to his fate, "I don't remember, sir."

Snape was silent for a moment. The rest of the class were completely still, watching with a kind of sick fascination.

"I see," he said, almost emotionlessly, and for a small wonderful moment Harry thought that would be the end of it as Snape moved back behind his desk, motioning for the class to return to their seats.

As if Snape would ever be so kind to him.

"Well, Potter," he said, with something akin to satisfaction on his face, "Since you seem utterly bored of my class - bored enough to yawn your way through it and then make a beginner's mistake - I feel it is my duty to make you take a more active interest. Cleaning out the equipment cupboard and its contents should be a fine start, I think. Come straight here after your evening meal."

Harry inwardly groaned. Detention with Snape and an extra assignment? Whoever that hooded figure was, Harry would quite like to throttle them right now.