"Potions Lessons"

Sung by: The Gryfindors

To the tune of: "Anatevka"

From the musical: "The Fiddler on the Roof"

Disclaimer: None is mine. ~sigh~

***

Snape had yet to enter his classroom. The sixth year Gryfindors had a few
moments of peace left to them before the start of Potions lessons. Oh,
Potions lessons. The misery of Potions Lessons. Harry looked around at his
fellow glum-faced Gryfindors.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," chimed Hermione, her nose in
her Potions text book.

"Eye of newt, lung of frog, and some wool of bat."

"Someone should have set a Filibuster Firework to this place years ago,"
sang Ron.

"Ingredients, a cauldron," Seamus joined them.

"So what's a draught? Or a brew?"

"People who pass through Potions Lessons wish they'd never come here," said
Neville.

"Our teacher's mean. The class is hard," said Harry.

"What do we learn?" asked Hermione. "Nothing much

In Potions Lessons."

And they all got up and began to walk in a slow funeral march around the
room, singing,

"Potions Lessons, potions lessons,

Difficult, tiring,

Potions Lessons.

Where every hour's a living hell.

Potions lessons, potions lessons,

Prejudiced, obstinate

Potions lessons.

Where none of us do all that well.

Soon we'll all get F's on our latest test

While Snape tells us that Slytherin's best.

Oh, Potions Lessons.

How we despise Potions Lessons

Brings-us-down, work-a-lot, Potions lessons

Damn evil teacher, damn our Potions class."

"May I ask what," hissed a voice behind them, "you all think you are
doing?" Wordlessly, the Gryfindors returned to their seats. "Twenty points
from Gryfindor. Now if you don't mind, it's time to start class...."

Later that night, Severus retreated to his closet. He snapped on a Muggle
headset, put in one of his favorite CD's and began to sing, "Anatevka,
Anatevka..."