Chapter Five: It runs in the family
Having nothing better to do, Harry was sitting in the lowest box of the spectator stands arrayed about the Quidditch pitch. He was determined to avoid another entirely too confusing encounter with his Potions Professor and had decided the best way to do that was to avoid the castle all together.
So now he sat, alone in the stands, playing with a Golden Snitch. In much the same way a muggle child would throw a ball into the air and catch it, Harry was releasing the Snitch then quickly snatching it back before to could zoom off over the Forbidden Forest. Of course, if it weren't for his Seeker's reflexes, he would have lost the winged ball long ago.
He had just released the Snitch for the umpteenth time when a voice spoke behind him. He started, then had to jump to catch the Snitch as it was about to dart out over the pitch. His heart thudding in surprise and the fluttering ball clutched tightly to his chest, Harry turned to confront the speaker.
Remus Lupin was sitting several rows behind him and it seemed he had been there a while. Harry had never even heard him enter the box.
'Pardon?' Harry shook his hair out of his eyes.
'I said, you have you father's hands.' Remus vacated his seat and made his way down to the bottom row next to Harry.
Harry meanwhile, stretched the hand not tightly grasping the Snitch out in front of him and gazed at it as though it hadn't been attached to the end of his arm for the last fifteen years. He was always extremely interested in any mention of his parents, and if Remus said he had his father's hands, he was going examine them closely.
Remus sat silently beside Harry as the boy tipped his hand from side to side, examining it minutely. With his superhuman hearing, Remus was able to catch the almost inaudible murmur:
'I always pictured Dad as having blunter hands than mine.' Harry shook himself and looked up at Remus. He smiled, a bright winning smile that never failed to remind Remus of his old friend.
'Everybody always says I look like my dad.'
Remus cleared his throat, a rather non-committal sound. Harry didn't notice. His eyes had gone distant.
'But they never talk about my mother. Except to say I have her eyes.' Harry turned those eyes out over the Quidditch pitch, 'Tell me about my mother?'
Remus eyed Harry silently. It didn't seem fair that one so young had gone through so much and never had his parents to help him through it. The werewolf knew that Harry would have to go through even more before it was done. And there was nothing Remus could do to help him. Nothing except talk when that was what Harry wanted and listen when Harry needed it. Right now Harry wanted him to talk.
'So, you want me to tell you about your mother.' Harry nodded silently and Remus copied the movement.
'Well, let's see. Lily and I never really hung out much when we were at school. I got to know her better once we'd all left. She was a wonderful person; good and beautiful and kind. Family was extremely important to her. You meant the world to her.
'You were named for her father - your grandfather - you know.'
Harry turned back to Remus and the man noticed that his eyes were shining oddly. Remus made no comment on it.
'I was?' Harry gave a tremulous smile.
Remus met it with a more confident one of his own.
'You were. Lily's father's name was Harold. Or was that his middle name? Either way, you parents decided to name you after him.'
Harry and Remus sat quietly for a moment. The younger wizard was the first to break the silence.
'Everybody says I have my mother's eyes.' He was still staring out over the pitch as he said this. Remus gazed in the same direction as he answered.
'Lily once told me she inherited those eyes from your great-grandmother. Supposedly she was Irish. That's where Lily got her red hair as well.'
Harry was silent for another moment, assimilating this new fact about his family.
'Oh,' he murmured presently, 'I didn't know that.'
Remus clasped his hands together on his knees and watched as the sun began its descent beyond the Forbidden Forest.
'No. I don't suppose you would have.'
Harry released the Snitch from his tight hold and watched it dart for a moment before snaking out a hand and reclaiming it. Remus watched Harry with one eye, and the sunset with the other. The two sat companionably until the sun had almost slipped completely beyond sight.
Harry was staring blankly at his potions text, trying to make head or tail of the infernal thing. It didn't make sense. Okay. So read the question again:
"Explain, with examples, the effects of powdered shell of Peruvian urchlid when combined with boomslang skin and how the results can be replicated using the contents of your prescribed ingredients list."
Well, he knew boomslang skin. Hermione had stolen some from Professor Snape's own personal store in second year when she, Harry and Ron had been making the Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But Harry had never even heard of 'powered shell of Peruvian urchlid'. How was he supposed to know what happened when you combined it with boomslang skin? Not mention replicating the effects with his own meagre store of potions ingredients.
Harry flipped through his textbook again, looking for any mention of Peruvian urchlids. And just like every other time, he came up with nothing. How did Professor Snape expect the muggle-born students to be able to complete this assignment if their text didn't refer once to one of the key components? Then again, Harry knew he was probably being just a little unfair. It wasn't like every other student from a muggle family was beaten if they even mentioned that magic existed, let alone that they attended a school of magic. Harry sighed enviously. All other the students' parents probably let them go to Diagon Alley to research the question.
Not to mention the students from wizarding families; they probably had libraries full of books on things like this. It was simply Harry that had such trouble with assignments such as this.
Of a sudden, Harry was overcome with an insane urge bash his head on the table. Of course, it wasn't like *Harry* currently had access to the *entire* library of Hogwarts, not to mention the Potions Master himself, if Harry could get up the nerve to ask him for assistance.
Harry couldn't believe he was stupid enough to forget that he was at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer and could wander in and out of the library at will. Gathering up his scrolls, quills and ink, and textbook, Harry deserted his room for the library, berating himself for his stupidity the entire way.
Madam Pince was away vacationing in the Bahamas for the summer and Harry had the entire huge room to himself, with the many empty reading tables to choose from. He chose the one that was still stacked with the books from his foray into the library two days earlier.
He dumped his equipment on the table, pushing the carelessly piled books to the side. He promised himself he would return them later when he put back the books on potions. Harry set off down the aisle in search of books on Peruvian urchlids.
Fifteen minutes later, he staggered out of the shelves weighed down by such titles as 'Magic of the South: A guide to magic in South America', 'The Potions of the Incas' and 'The comprehensive guide of little-known potions ingredients'. Along with what he already had on boomslang skin, Harry was confident he would be able to complete the assignment now.
Two and a half hours later, Harry was beginning to have doubts. He dropped his forehead onto his crossed arms and sighed. And it had started out so *well*. He had discovered a - relative - wealth of information on Peruvian urchlids and their uses and effects in the books he had pulled off the shelves. He had even been able to relate it to his information on boomslang skin and figure out how the one would effect the other.
He just hadn't managed to figure out how to replicate the effects with the far more common contents of his own store of ingredients. The most he had gotten was that shrivelfigs played some part in the reaction. He just wasn't sure what.
After thumping his head against his text for a good ten minutes, Harry decided there was nothing else for it. He was going to have to ask Professor Snape for assistance. Even if it was just permission to use the potions classroom to experiment.
Harry gathered up his equipment and started for the door. He was halfway out it when he realised that he had forgotten to return any of the books. He grimaced, but decided to come back later. If he stopped now, it would probably take him several days to get up the courage to ask the professor for help again. Clutching his scrolls and text to his chest, Harry hurried down the familiar path to the hospital wing.
Professor Snape was scowling at that morning's copy of the 'Daily Prophet' when Harry walked in. Loath to interrupt him, Harry stood at the foot of the bed and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the professor to notice him. Two minutes later, Snape finally acknowledged his presence.
'What is it *this* time Mr. Potter?' came the acerbic voice from behind the paper that never lowered.
Harry didn't like talking to a newspaper, but it didn't look like Snape was going to give him much choice.
'It's about the holiday assignment you set for Potions, sir.'
The paper lowered and the Potions Master peered over the top of it at his student. Harry stared back and shifted the pile of stationery in his arms. Snape folded the paper and lay it in his lap, his hands clasped on top of it.
'You aren't having trouble with it are you Potter?'
From any other teacher, that would have been a query of concern, but from Snape it was an insult to his intellect. Or it would have been this time last year. Now it seemed just a statement of fact.
Harry hurriedly shook his head.
'No!' Snape silently regarded him for a long moment and Harry caved in, 'Well, yes. But only the last part! I found some books in the library to help me with the first half.'
Harry shifted his weight again and waited for some reaction from his professor.
'I fail to believe you have come here expecting me to give you the answers, Mr. Potter. What is it you want?'
Harry suspected there was a backhanded compliment in there somewhere, but didn't have the opportunity to look for it. Snape was staring levelly at him, waiting for his answer.
'I was wondering if I could use the potions classroom to experiment with my own ingredients?' Harry eyed the professor hopefully.
'I see.' Snape held out a hand. Harry stared blankly at it. The fingers twitched in a summoning gesture.
'Well, don't just stand there. Show me your paper.'
Harry hurriedly dumped his burden on the foot of the bed and extracted his assignment scroll from the pile. He handed it to Snape.
Snape unrolled the parchment and began to peruse Harry's assignment. Harry fought the urge to worry at a hangnail as he watched his Potion Professor move down the page. Finally he reached the end of the scroll and neatly rolled it up again.
'You might wish to revise your third and fourth paragraphs. The premise is incorrect.' Harry blinked owlishly at the man as Snape handed back the scroll. Harry automatically took it, still trying to process the fact that not only had Snape not insulted his work, he had given him advise on how to improve it.
Snape obviously noticed his preoccupation, because he was smirking as he continued.
'If my classroom isn't in the same condition I left it you will be serving detention scrubbing cauldrons for the entire year, Mr. Potter.'
In his daze, it took Harry a moment to realise Professor Snape had just given him tacit permission to use the classroom for his experiments. His mouth stretched in a smile.
'Thankyou, Professor.' Harry gathered up his belongings once more and headed for the door. As he was turning away, Snape spoke again.
'Potter.'
Harry paused and looked back.
'There is boomslang skin and powdered Peruvian urchlid shell in my personal store. You may use a small amount to observe the reaction first hand. Just touch the panel on the cupboard's face; it should open for you.'
Harry's smile widened.
'Yes sir. Thankyou sir.' Harry turned to leave again. This time he reached the door before Snape spoke again. Harry glanced over shoulder, but Snape wasn't looking at him; he had the paper out again and was ostensibly reading it as he spoke.
'Oh. And, Harry? If I find anything else missing, your house will pay dearly for it at the beginning of the school year.'
Harry found it difficult to give that threat all the weight it deserved. It was hard to do when his Potions Professor had just used his first name for the third time in almost as many days.
TBC
AN: I would have written more, but *turns on the whining voice* I'm tired.
That, and I've finally been able to escape my Muses. They are currently tied up in a hessian sack form my clothes line. It's the only way I'll get any rest and I have to get up early tomorrow.
Having nothing better to do, Harry was sitting in the lowest box of the spectator stands arrayed about the Quidditch pitch. He was determined to avoid another entirely too confusing encounter with his Potions Professor and had decided the best way to do that was to avoid the castle all together.
So now he sat, alone in the stands, playing with a Golden Snitch. In much the same way a muggle child would throw a ball into the air and catch it, Harry was releasing the Snitch then quickly snatching it back before to could zoom off over the Forbidden Forest. Of course, if it weren't for his Seeker's reflexes, he would have lost the winged ball long ago.
He had just released the Snitch for the umpteenth time when a voice spoke behind him. He started, then had to jump to catch the Snitch as it was about to dart out over the pitch. His heart thudding in surprise and the fluttering ball clutched tightly to his chest, Harry turned to confront the speaker.
Remus Lupin was sitting several rows behind him and it seemed he had been there a while. Harry had never even heard him enter the box.
'Pardon?' Harry shook his hair out of his eyes.
'I said, you have you father's hands.' Remus vacated his seat and made his way down to the bottom row next to Harry.
Harry meanwhile, stretched the hand not tightly grasping the Snitch out in front of him and gazed at it as though it hadn't been attached to the end of his arm for the last fifteen years. He was always extremely interested in any mention of his parents, and if Remus said he had his father's hands, he was going examine them closely.
Remus sat silently beside Harry as the boy tipped his hand from side to side, examining it minutely. With his superhuman hearing, Remus was able to catch the almost inaudible murmur:
'I always pictured Dad as having blunter hands than mine.' Harry shook himself and looked up at Remus. He smiled, a bright winning smile that never failed to remind Remus of his old friend.
'Everybody always says I look like my dad.'
Remus cleared his throat, a rather non-committal sound. Harry didn't notice. His eyes had gone distant.
'But they never talk about my mother. Except to say I have her eyes.' Harry turned those eyes out over the Quidditch pitch, 'Tell me about my mother?'
Remus eyed Harry silently. It didn't seem fair that one so young had gone through so much and never had his parents to help him through it. The werewolf knew that Harry would have to go through even more before it was done. And there was nothing Remus could do to help him. Nothing except talk when that was what Harry wanted and listen when Harry needed it. Right now Harry wanted him to talk.
'So, you want me to tell you about your mother.' Harry nodded silently and Remus copied the movement.
'Well, let's see. Lily and I never really hung out much when we were at school. I got to know her better once we'd all left. She was a wonderful person; good and beautiful and kind. Family was extremely important to her. You meant the world to her.
'You were named for her father - your grandfather - you know.'
Harry turned back to Remus and the man noticed that his eyes were shining oddly. Remus made no comment on it.
'I was?' Harry gave a tremulous smile.
Remus met it with a more confident one of his own.
'You were. Lily's father's name was Harold. Or was that his middle name? Either way, you parents decided to name you after him.'
Harry and Remus sat quietly for a moment. The younger wizard was the first to break the silence.
'Everybody says I have my mother's eyes.' He was still staring out over the pitch as he said this. Remus gazed in the same direction as he answered.
'Lily once told me she inherited those eyes from your great-grandmother. Supposedly she was Irish. That's where Lily got her red hair as well.'
Harry was silent for another moment, assimilating this new fact about his family.
'Oh,' he murmured presently, 'I didn't know that.'
Remus clasped his hands together on his knees and watched as the sun began its descent beyond the Forbidden Forest.
'No. I don't suppose you would have.'
Harry released the Snitch from his tight hold and watched it dart for a moment before snaking out a hand and reclaiming it. Remus watched Harry with one eye, and the sunset with the other. The two sat companionably until the sun had almost slipped completely beyond sight.
Harry was staring blankly at his potions text, trying to make head or tail of the infernal thing. It didn't make sense. Okay. So read the question again:
"Explain, with examples, the effects of powdered shell of Peruvian urchlid when combined with boomslang skin and how the results can be replicated using the contents of your prescribed ingredients list."
Well, he knew boomslang skin. Hermione had stolen some from Professor Snape's own personal store in second year when she, Harry and Ron had been making the Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But Harry had never even heard of 'powered shell of Peruvian urchlid'. How was he supposed to know what happened when you combined it with boomslang skin? Not mention replicating the effects with his own meagre store of potions ingredients.
Harry flipped through his textbook again, looking for any mention of Peruvian urchlids. And just like every other time, he came up with nothing. How did Professor Snape expect the muggle-born students to be able to complete this assignment if their text didn't refer once to one of the key components? Then again, Harry knew he was probably being just a little unfair. It wasn't like every other student from a muggle family was beaten if they even mentioned that magic existed, let alone that they attended a school of magic. Harry sighed enviously. All other the students' parents probably let them go to Diagon Alley to research the question.
Not to mention the students from wizarding families; they probably had libraries full of books on things like this. It was simply Harry that had such trouble with assignments such as this.
Of a sudden, Harry was overcome with an insane urge bash his head on the table. Of course, it wasn't like *Harry* currently had access to the *entire* library of Hogwarts, not to mention the Potions Master himself, if Harry could get up the nerve to ask him for assistance.
Harry couldn't believe he was stupid enough to forget that he was at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer and could wander in and out of the library at will. Gathering up his scrolls, quills and ink, and textbook, Harry deserted his room for the library, berating himself for his stupidity the entire way.
Madam Pince was away vacationing in the Bahamas for the summer and Harry had the entire huge room to himself, with the many empty reading tables to choose from. He chose the one that was still stacked with the books from his foray into the library two days earlier.
He dumped his equipment on the table, pushing the carelessly piled books to the side. He promised himself he would return them later when he put back the books on potions. Harry set off down the aisle in search of books on Peruvian urchlids.
Fifteen minutes later, he staggered out of the shelves weighed down by such titles as 'Magic of the South: A guide to magic in South America', 'The Potions of the Incas' and 'The comprehensive guide of little-known potions ingredients'. Along with what he already had on boomslang skin, Harry was confident he would be able to complete the assignment now.
Two and a half hours later, Harry was beginning to have doubts. He dropped his forehead onto his crossed arms and sighed. And it had started out so *well*. He had discovered a - relative - wealth of information on Peruvian urchlids and their uses and effects in the books he had pulled off the shelves. He had even been able to relate it to his information on boomslang skin and figure out how the one would effect the other.
He just hadn't managed to figure out how to replicate the effects with the far more common contents of his own store of ingredients. The most he had gotten was that shrivelfigs played some part in the reaction. He just wasn't sure what.
After thumping his head against his text for a good ten minutes, Harry decided there was nothing else for it. He was going to have to ask Professor Snape for assistance. Even if it was just permission to use the potions classroom to experiment.
Harry gathered up his equipment and started for the door. He was halfway out it when he realised that he had forgotten to return any of the books. He grimaced, but decided to come back later. If he stopped now, it would probably take him several days to get up the courage to ask the professor for help again. Clutching his scrolls and text to his chest, Harry hurried down the familiar path to the hospital wing.
Professor Snape was scowling at that morning's copy of the 'Daily Prophet' when Harry walked in. Loath to interrupt him, Harry stood at the foot of the bed and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the professor to notice him. Two minutes later, Snape finally acknowledged his presence.
'What is it *this* time Mr. Potter?' came the acerbic voice from behind the paper that never lowered.
Harry didn't like talking to a newspaper, but it didn't look like Snape was going to give him much choice.
'It's about the holiday assignment you set for Potions, sir.'
The paper lowered and the Potions Master peered over the top of it at his student. Harry stared back and shifted the pile of stationery in his arms. Snape folded the paper and lay it in his lap, his hands clasped on top of it.
'You aren't having trouble with it are you Potter?'
From any other teacher, that would have been a query of concern, but from Snape it was an insult to his intellect. Or it would have been this time last year. Now it seemed just a statement of fact.
Harry hurriedly shook his head.
'No!' Snape silently regarded him for a long moment and Harry caved in, 'Well, yes. But only the last part! I found some books in the library to help me with the first half.'
Harry shifted his weight again and waited for some reaction from his professor.
'I fail to believe you have come here expecting me to give you the answers, Mr. Potter. What is it you want?'
Harry suspected there was a backhanded compliment in there somewhere, but didn't have the opportunity to look for it. Snape was staring levelly at him, waiting for his answer.
'I was wondering if I could use the potions classroom to experiment with my own ingredients?' Harry eyed the professor hopefully.
'I see.' Snape held out a hand. Harry stared blankly at it. The fingers twitched in a summoning gesture.
'Well, don't just stand there. Show me your paper.'
Harry hurriedly dumped his burden on the foot of the bed and extracted his assignment scroll from the pile. He handed it to Snape.
Snape unrolled the parchment and began to peruse Harry's assignment. Harry fought the urge to worry at a hangnail as he watched his Potion Professor move down the page. Finally he reached the end of the scroll and neatly rolled it up again.
'You might wish to revise your third and fourth paragraphs. The premise is incorrect.' Harry blinked owlishly at the man as Snape handed back the scroll. Harry automatically took it, still trying to process the fact that not only had Snape not insulted his work, he had given him advise on how to improve it.
Snape obviously noticed his preoccupation, because he was smirking as he continued.
'If my classroom isn't in the same condition I left it you will be serving detention scrubbing cauldrons for the entire year, Mr. Potter.'
In his daze, it took Harry a moment to realise Professor Snape had just given him tacit permission to use the classroom for his experiments. His mouth stretched in a smile.
'Thankyou, Professor.' Harry gathered up his belongings once more and headed for the door. As he was turning away, Snape spoke again.
'Potter.'
Harry paused and looked back.
'There is boomslang skin and powdered Peruvian urchlid shell in my personal store. You may use a small amount to observe the reaction first hand. Just touch the panel on the cupboard's face; it should open for you.'
Harry's smile widened.
'Yes sir. Thankyou sir.' Harry turned to leave again. This time he reached the door before Snape spoke again. Harry glanced over shoulder, but Snape wasn't looking at him; he had the paper out again and was ostensibly reading it as he spoke.
'Oh. And, Harry? If I find anything else missing, your house will pay dearly for it at the beginning of the school year.'
Harry found it difficult to give that threat all the weight it deserved. It was hard to do when his Potions Professor had just used his first name for the third time in almost as many days.
TBC
AN: I would have written more, but *turns on the whining voice* I'm tired.
That, and I've finally been able to escape my Muses. They are currently tied up in a hessian sack form my clothes line. It's the only way I'll get any rest and I have to get up early tomorrow.