Chapter 3 - Dungeons and Detentions


Harry was sat, bleary eyed, on the floor outside the Potions room by the time the other students arrived from the Great Hall.


Harry! How long have you been here? Hermione asked, as Ron and Dean pulled him to his feet. He shrugged, looking at his watch.


An hour, I think, he replied vaguely, ignoring their shock. They didn't have time to question him further as Snape chose that moment to breeze along the corridor, knocking them to the sides as he barged through to his door. It slammed open and he stomped in, obviously already in a foul temper. He began barking orders to the class, assigning detentions to all Gryffindors that turned up late. The Slytherins laughed at them all when his back was turned to write ingredients up on the blackboard for the potion.


Harry slouched forward in his chair after finishing his potion, his chin resting on his hand as he gazed at the board with unfocused eyes. The contents of his cauldron bubbled over the flame, the simmering like a lullaby to his ears. His sluggish mind feebly tried to come to some order, but he was so tired. Harry felt his eyelids drooping, and as he nodded off he realised that Snape was going to kill him for snoozing in class.


Familiar images flashed through Harry's brain, of duelling wizards and green lights, and the gorgeous sound of the Phoenix song was strangled in his ears, overpowered by evil cackling. He tried to stop it, to save the flaming bird that he couldn't see, could only hear, but he couldn't move. He yelled for help, for anyone to save the helpless animal, but nobody came. When the last of the song died, a dreadful, echoing roar filled Harry's ears. He covered them with his hands, but the roaring grew louder, and suddenly changed into an angry voice.


POTTER!! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT OR I WILL GIVE YOU THE WORST PUNISHMENT YOU'VE EVER HAD!!


Harry jerked back in his chair, blinking blearily up at the enraged form of Professor Snape. Hot tears streaked down his face from his horrid nightmare, and Harry felt the building of a sob when he realised he hadn't saved the bird. The Phoenix had died, and all because of him. Wiping his eyes and re-adjusting his glasses, Harry jumped when he saw the hole in the dungeon floor, and the remains of his cauldron lying next to it.


I'D EXPECT SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM LONGBOTTOM, BUT NOT FROM YOU!! YOU STUPID, IDIOTIC BOY!! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?! Snape bellowed. Harry stared in shock from the ruined dungeon floor to Snape's furious face, and back. The Slytherins were all pointing and whispering to each other, the Gryffindors looked fearfully at Snape, afraid of how many points he would deduct from them. Harry kept his head bent, a submissive position he had learnt to use whenever in trouble at 4 Privet Drive.


he offered meekly. Snape's glare intensified.


*


Harry returned to the dungeons that evening at six o'clock sharp for one of his eight detentions, as he had been instructed. He did not get out of the dungeons until two in the morning, with burn marks on his hands and arms. Harry didn't really notice them. He felt so slow from lack of sleep, and hardly any food in his stomach, that he had been careless with several of the ingredients he had been ordered to restack in alphabetical order, and consequently several of the more acidic liquids had splashed onto his skin. Snape had healed the most dangerous burns from killer liquids, but the lesser ones he had left, as more punishment he had growled warningly. Harry sighed as he trudged up the Gryffindor tower, tiptoeing when he reached the landing. The Fat Lady sat in her portrait, deep snores echoing in her chest. Harry felt so inexplicably guilty at having been up so late because of the burn in the dungeon that, instead of waking her, he made his way back downstairs. He stood in a moment of indecision; where should he go? A bang up the stairs made him start, and he dashed hurriedly into the Great Hall, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible. He really didn't want one of the teachers to catch him, or worse, Peeves or Filch.


The Great Hall was empty, and despite his best efforts, every sound he made echoed impossibly loud. Harry felt even guiltier than before for being out of the tower at such an ungodly hour, and he briefly wondered how a bad action to prevent another bad action could make him feel so terrible. Sighing, Harry found a place at the Gryffindor table. He glued his eyes open, refusing to suffer more nightmares for fear the whole castle heard, and instead focused on the ceiling, bewitched to show the dark, cloudy sky outside.


*