As misfortune would have it, Potions turned out to be his very first class of the year. He soon discovered that it would be neither an enjoyable class nor an easy class. Snape seemed determined to humiliate Harry in every way possible, apparently reasoning that if he couldn't manage to get rid of Harry, he could at least make sure he wrung as much enjoyment from persecuting him as possible. The fact that Malfoy had managed to weasel his way through the examinations (or rather, Malfoy's father had managed to weasel his son's way into the class), only made it all the more infuriating for Harry whenever Snape insulted him because the blond boy smirked at him through each of Snape's tirades until Harry was burning with the desire to leap from his seat and strangle that smirk right off the idiot's face.
Fortunately for both Harry and Malfoy (at least in the respect that Harry wouldn't get a detention and Malfoy got to keep his sorry little life), Hermione was also taking the class. Her restraining hand and hissed comments in his ear were the only things that prevented Harry from hexing Malfoy to dust right then and there.
There were, unsurprisingly, very few students (and none of them Hufflepuffs) who felt they could weather Snape's foul moods for another two years and as a result, every student taking sixth year Potions (a grand total of nine) was placed into the same class. If anyone else noticed the extraordinary ratio of Slytherins in the class, they said nothing. For Harry, this simply confirmed his suspicions of after-hours tutelage for the Snape's own house. He cut that thought off before it got any further. He did not want to think about what went on in Snape's dungeons after-hours.
The sheer astonishment on Malfoy's face when he had realized that Harry wasn't lost and was, in fact, taking the same class as him, was almost worth the humiliation inherent in Snape's vicious insults. Almost. Although… the expression on Snape's face had been just as good as Ron predicted and, for the first time in his life, Harry wished that Colin had been following him. Such a shame that the man got himself under control so quickly. Harry would have liked to bask in that smug feeling for at least a little while longer before Snape opened his mouth and burst his bubble.
Snape viewed the class with a critical eye. "It seems as though the OWLs have once again succeeded in isolating those with a small modicum of talent for the incredibly complex and subtle art that is Potions. Some of you, no doubt, should not be here." Here his disdainful gaze settled fully on Harry. Harry sought very hard not to let his anger show and instead concentrated on clenching his fists only so hard that the nails didn't break the skin. He would not let Snape get to him this year. There was no way he was going to allow that sodding, ugly, greasy, murdering, bastard son-
"It appears that fame can help one acquire anything, except of course it would seem, the kind of dogged determination that will most certainly be needed."
-of-a-bitch! Sod that! Snape was going to die, right now! The rest of the class looked on in something very akin to confusion (although of course the Slytherins would never admit to being confused) as Harry snarled in rage and made to leap from his seat. Thankfully, Hermione and a Ravenclaw on his right managed to hold him back before he performed an action that could well have had him in Azkaban for years to come. And wouldn't Snape have enjoyed that? Almost worth the broken nose Harry had been aiming to give him.
Snape smirked down at him. "Dear me, Mr Potter. I would ask that you control your desire for me. I have no wish to be molested by children." The Slytherins snickered as Harry glared and snarled something incomprehensible, allowing himself to be coaxed back into his seat, still quivering with fury. If possible, Snape's smirk turned doubly malicious. "Detention, Mr Potter… and I think perhaps fifty points from Gryffindor. You will see me after class ends to discuss the exact details of your detention."
Snape turned to survey the rest of the class which had, until now, been watching in part anger and part confusion. "I have no doubts that those of you unworthy of taking this class will be out of this classroom within the month. I will be setting each of you an examination in a month's time and, should you fail to pass, you will no longer be permitted to step inside this classroom."
The rest of the class passed by in a furious haze for Harry as he saw red every time Snape thoroughly humiliated him or whenever Malfoy sent a devious smirk his way. He managed to fumble his way through the potion they were making today, though not without a large amount of whispered help from Hermione. At least, he thought he had managed to do alright. Nothing had started bubbling ominously or begun to melt the cauldron as Neville's concoctions had before they exploded all over the classroom ceiling. But when Snape passed by his cauldron, the tirade he delivered showed he was not so inclined. Harry mollified himself with the knowledge that his potion hadn't looked too different from Hermione's…a little less vivid in colour… and certainly a tad more viscous, but other than that they were identical.
The end of the class couldn't come too quickly and he packed his things hurriedly, reasoning that he could get away from Snape quicker if his things were packed and ready to go as soon as they had finished talking. Harry approached Snape's desk with a large amount of trepidation. He halted and waited as patiently as he could manage while Snape finished noting something down in a small red book. When he had finished, he looked up and sent Harry a scathing glance. "Yes…your detention." His voice was low and dangerous and Harry found he couldn't quite muster the courage to look the man in the eye. Not that he was afraid of Snape. He simply deemed it wasn't prudent to anger the man overly much. He squashed down his mind's succinct reminder that trying to break the man's nose wasn't exactly prudent either. "You will be serving your detention with me. Come down to my office tonight at ten o'clock."
Harry could do nothing but stare. That was it? No sarcastic comments on his intelligence, no basking in Harry's humiliation and anger? And why on Earth was Snape taking his detention? He always gave the nasty jobs to Filch. Snape looked up when Harry didn't immediately flee at his dismissal. "What are-oh you idiot child. You will not be serving detention, though the gods know you ought to be. I will be endeavouring to save your pitiful life once again by trying to teach your useless brain to bar the Dark Lord's intrusions. The Headmaster feels it would not be wise for the Boy-who-lived to be seen spending an unnecessary amount of time with an ex-Death Eater and I would have to agree with him. As such, you will come down to my office on certain days, under the guise of a detention, and I will attempt to teach you." He narrowed his eyes, his tones low and dangerous. "Make no mistake, Potter. I will not allow you to be so disrespectful in class again. I have no desire to be teaching you more than necessary but the Headmaster insists. Now leave!"
Harry moved at once and grabbed his back from the table, fleeing out the door. Well, how was he supposed to have known Snape would be teaching him Occlumency instead of giving him detention? Why did the man have to be so damn impossible?
Hermione was waiting for him outside the room and made suitably sympathetic noises when Harry informed her of his detention but Harry could tell he didn't have her full attention. Sure enough:
"A test in a month! And we don't even know what it's going to be on! Harry, this is awful! I'm going to have to study extra hard." Harry decided not to inform her that she would probably pass without doing any work whatsoever. If it meant she would leave him alone… "I'm going straight up to the library after lunch to work. I just hope I'll be able to get enough revision in. Are you going to come?"
Harry opened his mouth to ask her if she were crazy. Him in the library? Working on Potions voluntarily? But… actually, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He did want to pass the course… and besides, there was no way he was going to give Snape a valid reason to insult him.
"Yeah, sure 'Mione. I'll meet you there." He ignored her incredulous look.
* * *
Of course, by the time lunch had rolled around (after a gruelling two hour Transfigurations lesson, learning to perfect the 'Guinea sequence transformation'- pig to coin to fowl), Harry had come to regret his hasty decision. He was already exhausted from his classes and only half the way through the day!
Ron wasn't helpful either. He rambled on and on all lunchtime about how Hagrid had managed to acquire four infant demiguises for Care of Magical Creatures and then proceeded to lose them because they instantly turned invisible upon seeing so many people. According to Ron, there had followed a long period of running around hopelessly until some bright spark had the idea of conjuring a floor of wet sand so they could follow the Demiguises' footprints. Unfortunately, whoever had cast the spell had gone a touch overboard and Hagrid's pumpkin patch now resembled a small beach. All in all, it sounded infinitely more fun than Potions, leaving Harry wishing sorely that he had opted for Hagrid's class instead of Snape's.
Although… Harry was near-certain that demiguises were illegal to import without a licence and he would be willing to bet his Firebolt that Hagrid had smuggled them in under his mole-skin coat. It was the sort of thing Hagrid would do… much like secretly raising a baby dragon or a giant spider.
As it was, Harry was already feeling tired and more than a little frustrated with himself and the world in general by the time he and Hermione reached the library. He was in no mood to study Potions, or anything else for that matter and his earlier target to prove himself in Snape's class now seemed both ridiculous and unattainable. Unfortunately, he was with Hermione and she was not wont to allow time spent in the library to be spent doing anything less than constructive. So Harry was sat down and presented with no fewer than eight books that Hermione deemed essential to being able to pass the test Snape said he would give them, despite the fact that she had no idea what would be on the test. Harry said nothing; as far as he was concerned, her guess was as good as his and he might as well follow her study plan. After all, it had never led her wrong in the past.
For the next hour and a half, he immersed himself as best he could in A Brief History of Medical Potions Throughout the Ages. Typically, with a title like that, the book was massive: more than two feet across and at least a foot wide. And it was one of the smaller books Hermione had picked out. By the time he had progressed from 4000 to 2000 BC, he was feeling distinctly queasy and was relieved to note that it was time for his Charms lesson.
He tried not to remember his upcoming 'detention' and hoped fervently that Snape didn't know how to brew a Mummifying Potion. He didn't much fancy having his brains sucked out through his nose and kept as one of the floating formaldehyde specimens decorating Snape's office.
* * *
Ten o'clock came all too soon for Harry's liking and he soon found himself trudging down to the dungeons, dawdling as much as humanly possible but not so much so that he would actually be late. He had no desire to upset Snape even more, especially when he was in enemy territory. Harry snorted at himself and discovered quite disconcertingly that, while his brain hadn't been paying attention, he had made his way to Snape's door and was now standing outside it looking like an idiot.
He raised his fist to knock but the door slid open on well-oiled hinges, as though expecting his presence… if not actively welcoming it. Harry could not resist the quip that everything about Snape was well-oiled before he shook himself and tried to order his thoughts.
Snape was already inside, his back turned to the door and apparently bending over some form of potion that was giving off green smoke and an odour that smelt like rotten eggs. Harry had the fleeting, absurd idea that he was brewing a Mummifying Potion, then dismissed the idea. After all, Snape couldn't read minds…okay, so he could. But really, what were the odds?
Snape mumbled something under his breath as Harry entered and waved a hand vaguely in his direction. "Sit down Mr Potter. I will be with you shortly. Do try to refrain from breaking anything." He returned to measuring a fine green powder that Harry thought might have been powdered Graphorn horn into the smallest cauldron Harry had ever seen.
Harry cast around for a seat and settled for the small stool in the corner. There was what appeared to be a bench against the wall but the eerily glowing jar-creatures above it and the stuffed augerey head perched nearby deterred him somewhat.
His attention was brought back forcibly to the man in question in the form of a small explosion that ruptured the miniature cauldron and sprayed Snape's face and the front of his robes with a murky green solution that still seemed to be giving off the faint smell of rotten eggs. Snape swore, passionately and imaginatively, using several words Harry had never heard before. He grudgingly had to award the man credit, faced with the truth that, yes, apparently Snape was human after all…though the thought of Snape being passionate about anything was disturbing enough to send the man into minus numbers.
Snape sent him a fierce glare, as if daring him to comment, although whether on his failure or his language, Harry didn't know. "Stay seated Mr Potter and do not touch anything. I will be back shortly." And with that, he swept from the room through a small side door Harry had never noticed before, still somehow retaining his dignity even with green gunk dripping from his robes and hair. A whispered word, and his potions experiment was following him through the door, leaving the office bare with the exception of Harry, several dead…somethings and the pervading smell of eggs.
When Snape returned minutes later, he was clean and had changed his robes, although apparently his greasy hair was not something that could be so easily rectified. He brought with him a scowl and several large books, stalking over to the work place he had just vacated and dropping the books with a resounding clunk. Snarling, he beckoned Harry over and conjured a thin chair next to the table.
"Your reading," he answered, upon Harry's bewildered look. "As if that were not plainly obvious. Seeing as how an entire term of practical work last year yielded nothing, you shall start from the beginning and learn the theory. You are to read those until I deem you able to move on."
Without another word, he whirled around and disappeared through the door again, only to return less than a minute later with all manner of vials and equipment floating behind him. He began setting up the equipment, muttering to himself all the while. Harry couldn't catch more than the odd word or two but what he did manage to hear thoroughly confused him. "Jobberknoll", "counter-clockwise with silver-"…what on Earth was Snape brewing?
Harry sighed quietly and pushed his glasses up his nose, dutifully reaching for the first book. They all seemed to be about forms of mind control and, as Harry knew nothing about the subject and Snape had given him no instruction, he chose at random. The muttering was incredibly distracting but Harry did his best to ignore it. He didn't want to run the risk of losing his head if he opened his mouth to complain.
Several hours later, the time measured only in the turnings of pages and the soft hisses of a bubbling potion, Snape dismissed Harry after it became clear that he was having trouble focusing on the page. Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and, after a receiving a curt order to return at the same time two nights later, was allowed to leave.
It had not been as bad as he had feared, when all was said and done. Certainly, Snape hadn't exactly been welcoming, but at least they had traded no insults. If this was the way it was going to continue, Harry thought maybe he would actually manage to survive through Snape intact enough to face Voldemort.
All in all, things could have gone a lot worse.