Author's note:
Just a reminder that this is very much a WIP and so plot points that don't make sense will be ironed out once I figure out where this story is actually going. Feel free to point out inconsistencies, or plot points that need clarification.
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Heart of Glass - 3
Harry idly diced shrivelfig into ever-smaller pieces as he waited for his potion to turn from green to puce. Snape stalked about the classroom, peering into cauldrons and criticizing the consistency of the contents within. Harry huddled into his robes. Ever since he'd discovered he'd discovered that the crystal was somehow connected to Snape, he couldn't look the man in the eye. But when Snape wasn't looking his way, he couldn't help noticing... Harry shook his head and diced some more, this time at a forty-five degree angle. The pieces, had he known it, were perfectly prepared -- for most other potions than the one Snape had set as a sample practical.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry started at Snape's voice and looked up to see the potions master looming over him.
"How is it that the rest of the class has moved on to step seven and you're still at step three?" Snape took a pinch of shrivelfig between his fingers and examined it minutely.
"I'd almost be impressed with your precision if weren't completely beside the point." Snape glared down at Harry and Harry tensed. "Try again." And Snape moved on. Harry waited for the potions master to whirl back and add one of his trademarked cutting remarks, but he seemed to be more entertained by the sight of Neville Longbottom, whose potion had turned his ears into those of a basset hound. Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'm not certain whether to give points for amusement value, or to deduct them for sheer incompetency. At least you didn't blow anything up." Snape used his wand to lift one of Neville's floppy ears.
"Far be it for me to disappoint your housemates," he finally said after a silent examination that left Neville blushing beet red. "Ten points from Griffindor. Come to the front of the classroom, I have something that should cure your affliction -- by tomorrow afternoon, at least."
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"Don't worry about it, Neville," Ron said, slapping the other boy on the back. "If you can remember how you pulled it off, I'm sure the twins will buy the formula. Maybe even let you share in the profits."
Neville brightened at that.
"And I have a cap you can wear," Harry added. It was an old, gray cricket cap of Dudley's and was far too enormous for his head, but Neville might be able to shove the ears up into it or something.
The four Griffindors walked to their house and up to the boys' rooms. Harry dug around his trunk and emerged triumphantly with the cap. He tossed it to Neville. "Here you go."
Neville snatched it up with a grateful thanks.
"Ready for lunch, then," Hermione asked from the doorway. Neville looked worried, but trailed gamely behind the other three as they left.
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After lunch, Harry escaped to the gardens and sat cross-legged with the crystal held between his palms. Maybe he could tap into it while he was awake. The crystal was definitely smaller, lighter. Harry hoped that he wasn't doing anything to harm Snape, but Snape, if anything, looked better. He stood straighter, looked less tired. The deep-worn lines around his mouth seem to have smoothed out. Harry blushed, remembering Snape having caught him staring when Harry should have been at work on a pop quiz.
He shook the thought away and held the crystal to his chest, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He could hear the sound of a breeze in the trees. He concentrated harder, but... nothing. He opened his eyes and stared into the ball. "Well, what is it? Do you only want to give me nightmares. Snape has no problem scaring me while I'm awake, you know."
The crystal glowed sullenly, and Harry rubbed his palm across it, his usual caressing gesture. "Come on," he coaxed. "Show me."
A werewolf loomed up before Harry and Harry nearly dropped the crystal in his fright. This time the events unfolded slowly, as if attempting to beat the terror of the moment deep into his heart and mind. Paralyzing fear, helplessness, hopelessness, a sense of his own stupidity, inadequacy, and oh, god, he was going to die, here, now and those Griffindors were going to get away with it, damn them, they hated him, and that was just fine he hated them, too. Hated them, hated them, hate, hate, hate.... And then the nightmare melted away and Harry stared down at the crystal in dismay. The emotions drained out of him, leaving him feeling sick. No wonder Snape couldn't bear the sight of him, of Remus, of Sirius...
Shaken, he stood and paced for a moment. Then, with determination, he walked to the lake and stood there, hefting the crystal in one hand. He should get rid of it. At the bottom of the lake it would be safe, relatively, and no one would know he'd ever had it. But, reflexively, the other hand came up to caress the crystal gently.
"All right. Let's try that one more time." Harry stalwartly returned to the gardens, settled himself on the grounds once more, and tried to get the crystal to give up its secrets.
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Harry rose weakly to his feet and staggered. He'd managed to get the crystal to show him something, but it kept showing the same thing, over and over, as if to pound it into Harry's head. But with a deep breath, Harry would dive back in again, until, finally, it seemed as if the crystal gave up the memory with a sigh. And then it was on to the next one.
His dreams for the rest of the week were composed of images from all the visions he'd seen, but spliced together as if in an attempt to create new horrors for Harry to experience. But gradually, he began to realize that the crystal could only show him a limited amount of painful things. And that slowly, with time, the images lost their power and became less and less vivid -- losing color and power and strength.
"Harry," he vaguely heard Hermione say. "Harry, maybe *you* should drink the cognatio percuro we brewed."
Harry looked at Hermione, who was toying with the glass bottle into which she'd poured her potion at class's end.
"Hmm. Maybe I should at that," he said vaguely, not quite sure what he was agreeing to.
"Honestly, Harry. What's wrong with you?"
"Tired."
"Then you should be brewing pepper-up potions, rather than that useless thing we brewed in class today. Took three full classes to do it. What's wrong with the stuff that Pomfrey hands out? You can even buy it over the counter."
"This potion is hardly *useless*, Hermione exclaimed. "If properly stored, it will keep for *centuries*. And I bought a bottle made from Grade A Extra Pure Wizard's Glass in Hogsmead last week."
Ron held up his own bottle. "Why not just use the ones that Snape has for us? You don't need to go buying bottles."
Hermione sniffed. "That's not true. A bottle like that will only preserve the efficacy of a potion for seven years. After that..."
"Glass is glass." Ron shrugged. Harry, however, took a longer and harder look at the bottle in Hermione's hand.
"No. It's not," she said. "And so when your potion is black sludge lining the bottom of the bottle, I'll be able to leave my potion to my ancestors."
"Hermione, why would anyone want your X potion?" Ron asked.
"Because its healing powers are greatest when it's brewed by a loved one or relative. Why do you think we had to put fingernail clippings in?"
"Because Snape has a gross sense of humor?"
"You're an idiot, Ron," Hermione said affectionately. "Come on. Transfiguration next." She looked at Harry. "You going to be awake enough for this?"
Harry nodded, lips pursed. "I think so. I feel much more awake already."
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Transfiguration turned out to be a review of last week, and Harry had had no problem turning his chair into a hatstand, then into a rather confused looking egret and back again, so he just sat back in his chair and thought about what Hermione had said. After class, instead of following Ron to the Griffindor common room for a game of chess, he instead trailed Hermione to the library. He waited until she'd arranged her books, quill, scroll, and Post-It notes carefully on a study table before asking, "So, uh, Hermione. What you said about glass..."
Hermione paused as she retrieved her Arithmancy calculator from her bookbag. "It's *fascinating*, Harry. Merlin himself tried to create glass wands -- they failed, of course -- but glass has *amazing* properties."
"Like..." Harry let the word trail off and looked at Hermione expectantly. Hermione could always be counted on for an impromptu lecture and she didn't fail him.
"Well, glass can conduct magic -- it conducts electricity really well, too, which is why Muggles make tele-optic fiber out of it. But it can only conductor of magic at low, steady levels. It's why Merlin's wands didn't work -- a powerful spell will cause them to explode. I've been thinking it might be able to make a wand attachment, you see. Something that could store magic for extra power when you need it -- like an emergency back-up battery."
"Huh," Harry said intelligently. "So, the storing part."
"Oh, yes. The purer the glass, the better it's able to store magic. Low quality glass does the opposite. The more impure it is, the more likely it is to leach magic away. That's why wizards don't use Muggle glass except for potions that need to be used quickly. Some potions have a short shelf life and can cause harm if taken after the expiration date. By storing them in Muggle glass, they're rendered harmless by the time the expiration date rolls around."
"How do you *know* all this?" Harry asked curiously.
"Well, I had this bottle from home and I wanted to use it to store my percuro cognatio potion. It was a really pretty blue color and, well..." Hermione blushed slightly. "Anyway, I showed the bottle to Professor Snape because I didn't know whether I'd need to spell it clean or something. And he told me that if I stored my potion in it, it wouldn't last even half as long as it would stored in the bottles he keeps for the class."
Harry turned this piece of information over in his mind. "It was blue?"
"Uh-huh. The chemicals Muggles use to color glass -- and do other things too -- make the glass impure and antithetical to magic."
"So the bottles Snape has are good for seven years and in the blue bottle, your potion have lasted for just over three." The hundreds of bottles marked "Poison" swam before his eyes. He smiled broadly at Hermione. "That's... that's *brilliant*," he said. Hermione looked puzzled. "No, I... I can't explain." Something else teased at the corners of Harry's brain. "Hey, Hermione... what do you know about Penseives?"
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Thanks again to all who reviewed. By the way, my Latin is nonexistent, so if you can think of better names that what I'm coming up (via an English-to-Latin online dictionary), feel free to let me know.
