Severus Snape was a tall, imposing man with sharp features. His hair was long and black, and he had a long hook-nose. It was down the end of this nose that he glared at Harry at the very beginning of Potions that afternoon.

"Well, Mr. Potter," he said softly, "back for another year? I hope you acquired more discipline over the summer, because this year will be especially challenging."

"I'll manage," responded Harry, and he knew he could. Mrs. Figg had taught him a lot of Potions secrets over the summer and he felt ready for anything Snape could throw at him.

Snape's lip curled into a sneer, and then he was turning back to the class with a swish of his blakc robes. "This year you will learn several very complex potions. The Ergot Potion. The Polyjuice Potion. The Ramphoryhnchus Brew and its antidote, Rosicrucian Remedy."

As he listened to Snape, Harry felt his confidence growing. He knew how to make the Ramphorynchus Brew and Rosicrucian Remedy from the summer, and he, Ron and Hermione had made Polyjuice Potions in their second year. The Ergot Potion he had never actually attempted, but he knew what it was used for and how to make it. Perhaps all the summer's practice would pay off.

"Potter!" barked Snape suddenly. "Are you listening?"

Harry started. "Yes sir."

"Then answer my question! How many lacewings do we add to a Nightshade sleeping draught?"

Harry wracked his brain, and then remembered seeing the ingredients of the Nightshade potion in one of Mrs. Figg's old books. "Three?"

Snape narrowed his eyes, and Harry knew he had got the right number. "Potter, tell me what a feverwort is, its location, and its use."

"A fungus found at the root of a maple tree," Harry answered, his confidence growing. "When dissolved in water, it creates an weak acid that some people use to control weed growth in their gardens."

"So you've been studying," murmured Snape, furrowing his brow. "Let's see if you can answer this one: who, Potter, who is Eburneous Tuske?"

"A fifteenth-century alchemist," Harry recalled. "He lived in India. He discovered the magical properties of the white elephant's ivory. He got the Order of Merlin, Third Class, in 1422."

The rest of the class, even the Slytherins, made impressed noises.

"Quiet!" commanded Snape, and the dungeon fell silent. Snape turned back to Harry. "Very well, Potter, I can see you've been reading up on your Potions material." His voice dropped to a disdainful mutter. "Didn't have much to do this summer, did you, Potter? What's the matter, no friends?"

"What did you do this summer, Professor Snape?" Harry asked very quietly, staring directly into the professor's black eyes. "Did you meet any old friends?"

Snape's cheeks flushed at the affront, and he leaned in close to Harry's face. "That is none of your business, you impertinent rascal," he murmured ttered. Then he straightened up and ordered, "Open your textbooks to page four."

While they were taking notes from the textbook, Ron leaned over to Harry. "How did you know all the answers?"

"I read all my textbooks this summer," confessed Harry. "This year's and last year's."

"All of them?" whispered Ron in disbelief. "All the way through?"

"Cover to cover," confirmed Harry. "I had nothing else to do. They wouldn't even let me leave Privet Drive."

"You didn't tell me that when you wrote," accused Ron.

"It wasn't like you could do anything about it," Harry whispered. "And I didn't want you to be worried or anything."

"I wouldn't have been worried, I would have been indignant," Ron whispered back. "Harry-did you owl Hermione over the summer?"

"Not much," said Harry, looking over at Hermione. She didn't appear to be listening, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Why?"

"Do you think she wrote to him?" Ron asked.

"Who?" asked Harry.

"Krum!" Ron hissed. "Was she writing to him?"

"I don't know," said Harry, "but why don't you-"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I'll thank you to keep your gossiping out of my classroom," barked Snape. "When you are in my class, I expect you to work. If I find you conversing again, I will deduct points from Gryffindor. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," muttered both boys. The Slytherins sniggered.