Author's notes: Chapter inspired from one of Papilio's reviews. Gingerhead in Potions class....

Thanks you all for your reviews!

Angelica: Gingerhead will be happy to date you. If Mrs. Norris allows him to do so, that is...

CHAPTER 4: Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Severus Snape was in the classroom. Double potions class with the annoying second-years of Gryffindor and Slytherin. If the presence of the always infuriating boy-that-lived and his sidekicks weren't bad enough, he had to endure the presence of that menace of a cat. The cat in question was seated on the edge of his desk, watching with great interest the students below. And Snape felt the urge to push him off once more, especially straight inside a boiling cauldron.

Why don't you go and sit next to Longbottom? Snape thought, and a venomous grin curled the corners of his mouth.

Gingerhead ignored him, but Snape's expression did not go unnoticed by the rest of the classroom, as a shiver traveled among the students. The Potions Master was in a foul mood today. Gathering all of his willpower, he forced himself to concentrate in teaching.

"Today we are going to brew a Feeblemind potion," his deep voice echoed in the cold room. "This is a potion that imitates the effects of a well-known goblin curse, which results in a dramatic reduction of the victim's intelligence, and thus forcing them to behave as the village idiot. Much like most of my past and present students, if I may add." He paused for a minute and his eyes inspected his audience to see if everyone was paying attention. Of course, they were. "The ingredients," he continued, "are listed on the blackboard. As soon as you finish, label your brews and place them on the testing table. Sampling will follow, although even with a successful potion I doubt there will be any results, given the standards of the classroom," he added with a sneer.

Gingerhead watched with great interest as the students began to follow Snape's instructions. He was wagging his tail impatiently, undecided of how to react. And the frantic moves of his long tail caused havoc on Snape's desk, as papers and quills went flying on the floor. And Gingerhead went after a quill, forgetting he was not a kitten anymore but a huge adult cat of significant weight. As he jumped off the desk, using his powerful hind legs to cover the distance to the rogue quill, the heavy piece of furniture rocked back and forth in a very unsettling manner and Snape hurried to steady it and prevent a new disaster.

Of course, none of this had escaped the students' eyes. A few giggles were heard, but they were all silenced from an icily stare from his dark eyes. And then he turned and scowled at the cat that was happily chewing on his quill.

"Go and make yourself useful, will you?" he ordered the cat. Go catch a rat. Go annoy Lockhart. Go play with Mrs. Norris- oh, wait, not that, Filch will kill me if he sees that blasted cat on top of his own furred monster.

Naturally, Gingerhead ignored him and continued to chew on the quill.

~*~

Gingerhead's POV.

Yummy feather.

Now, where's the rest of the bird? I can't dine on a single feather, can I?

Let's see... Perhaps one of these children is making chicken stew.

Not this one. Neither this one. Oh, brother, what are they cooking? These cauldrons stink! I can't believe they are wasting those pickled frog legs in that foul brew. Oh, well, I'll guess I'll have to eat them raw.

Now I feel better. Is there any more?

~*~

"Professor Snape, sir, your cat ate my pickled toad legs," Weasley's voice was heard and forced Snape to raise his eyes from the papers he had been grading.

"Five points from Gyffindor, Mr. Weasley, for not being more careful with your ingredients and your brew," Snape hissed. Perhaps that cat would be fun, after all.

"What?" Ron was shocked. "Your cat ate them and I get punished?"

"It's not my cat, Mr. Weasley, and I suspect you have detention cravings," Snape warned him. But Ron wouldn't give up.

"If I eat Malfoy's toad legs, will you deduct points from Slytherin as well?" He asked.

"Have you been sampling your brew already, Weasley?" Snape asked. "Because you certainly sound as if you have." Ah, the infamous Gryffindor bravery... Gryffindor stupidity was more like it. But his thoughts were interrupted by Longbottom's voice.

"Sir, your cat has stuck his head inside one of your jars."

In horror, Snape saw a panicked Gingerhead moving his head sideways, trying to shake off the jar he had stuck his head in. In his frantic attempts, he knocked off several other jars and containers from the shelves. The sound of breaking glass filled the classroom, along with the mixed smell of several ingredients spilled on the floor. Snape ran and tried to catch Gingerhead and free his head, but in vain. The cat hissed and scratched and ran away, pushing down several boiling cauldrons in his escape route. Steam and a horrid stench filled the air, along with the cries of a few students who had burned their hands in an attempt to steady their brews.

Cursing inside him, Snape went after the cat. But he slipped on the spilled brews and fell down, landing on his behind in the most undignified way for the Potions Master. An expression of pain appeared on his face for a brief moment, but he instantly pushed it back. There was no way in Hell he'd let anyone else know that a broken glass had penetrated his nether regions on landing.

Meanwhile, Gingerhead, pushing hard with both his hind legs, he had managed to free himself from his helmet. And he was now happily rolling over its spilled contents, the dried leaves of a perennial plant known as Nepeta Cataria. Or else, catnip.

At that moment, the door blasted open and the Headmaster entered the room, followed by Professor McGonagall and Filch. And while Mrs. Norris ran to join Gingerhead to the catnip party, Dumbledore was staring at the havoc before his eyes.

"Merlin's beard, what has happened in here?"

"It was Professor Snape's cat, Headmaster," Weasley was quick to reply. "He got scared and knocked over our brews."

Under Dumbledore's cold stare, and with a sharp pain from his buttocks hindering every move, Snape managed to utter one single phrase in his defense.

"But it's not my cat..."