The week had started rather successfully, involving an almost perfect concoction in Potions, which had caused Professor Jones to give Severus a rare smile and an approving clap on the shoulder. Severus felt that the cold of the dungeons helped him to keep his mind clear and resolved that Potions would definitely turn into his favourite subject if things continued to go so well down there.
Most subjects were going well so far. The Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, seemed to have taken a liking to him. Then again, there was hardly a student the stout, cheerful-looking witch had not taken a liking to. Indeed, it seemed she was trying to embrace the whole world at once. Severus was not sure whether to generally like this kind of attitude or not, but it was certainly nice to be going on with.
Experiences of a very different kind awaited him in Transfiguration the following morning, where, due to a sudden infirmity of Professor Flitwick and some changes in the day's schedule, first-years of all four houses had assembled in one room for a rare mixed lesson. Professor McGonagall explained to them that this would cause no difficulties as they were all basically on the same level and quite advanced for this time of the term anyway. She also finally seemed willing to give them a lesson instead of an endlessly boring theoretical one. They were asked to turn needles into matches, performing the reverse act to what they had been doing during their first two lessons.
'Ye'll need to picture the tip very clearly,' she said in a this-is-extremely-important sort of voice. 'I have given ye the formular and all the necessary explanation. So ye should be capable of picturing the result in your mind now. If ye get them correctly, I'll be able tae light your matches when ye hand them in after the lesson.'
Severus watched his needle and tried to remember what she had told them about the tip of a match. Was it supposed to be red or blue? Some were black, he recalled and decided to go for that, just to be on the safe side. In front of him, Sirius Black was changing one needle after another, first into matches, then into toothpicks, and finally into toothbrushes, which seemed to annoy and please Professor McGonagall at the same time.
'Stick to your task,' she said reprovingly. 'Now, Black - what is this supposed to be?'
'Sorry, Professor,' he muttered, shoving away a bunch of gherkins. 'Won't happen again.'
'You're very talented,' said the Professor, giving his gherkins a suspicious look. 'But do try and stick tae the question, or ye might end up getting poor results just because you're fooling aroond.'
It was no real reprimand. Severus scowled and gave his needle another jab with his wand. It turned wooden, but was still pointy. A bad imitation of a toothpick, he resolved. What was he doing wrong? Professor McGonagall turned and looked down at his weak efforts, her face changing from a smile into a disapproving frown.
'Merlin! Nay, Mr. Snape,' she said. 'Picture it very clearly, or ye'll never get proper results. It is all about what is inside your head.'
'Lots of fat butterbeer then,' voiced Sirius from behind her back, causing the Professor to whirl around.
'I beg your pardon?' she said sharply. 'I must ask you to refrain from insulting yer fellow students in my lesson, Mr. Bl-'
'Boiling with jealousy, are you?' hissed Severus, quite confident that Black would not try anything under McGonagall's nose. 'Can't stand that I am in Slytherin when you aren't?'
The room went very silent. Professor McGonagall looked from Severus to Black, who had gone the colour of a ripe tomato, and back again. 'Mr. Black! Mr. Snape! May I ask what is going on here?'
Both students ignored her. 'Some people gain their pride from things other than stupid houses,' snarled Black, staring directly into Severus's face without blinking. 'But obviously you don't belong to them. Just like you don't belong in Slytherin!'
'Really? And how would a dim-witted, green-eyed bastard such as yourself be able to -'
'Shut your trap at once, Mr. Snape!' bellowed Professor McGonagall. 'Aye, ye as well, Mr. Black. Silence! I will nae hae fightin' in my lesson! Stop it and,' she panted slightly, 'return to your work - all of ye.'
The next couple of minutes passed in total silence. Sirius was not sure what had made him shout at Snape. Did not know whether he should be glad or annoyed that Professor McGonagall had put an end to their little argument. He would have loved to see what Snape could do with his wand if sufficiently provoked. Certainly not more than shoot a couple of sparks? Sirius sighed. Incompetent fools. All of them. He was surrounded by people who could not cast a spell if their life depended on it. Not even the simple ones. He had only recently seen Rebecca Wood try to do a Stinging Hex in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. For what reason the poor girl had been admitted to Hogwarts was beyond him. But of course, he reminded himself when handing in one of his many needles, there was nothing else to expect with ninety percent Mudbloods within the wizarding community these days.
He stopped and picked his nose with the tip of his wand. Mudbloods? What a stupid expression. He could almost hear his mother: 'Filthy breed, traitors of the bloodline, scum, Mudbloods.' Sirius frowned slightly. His mother was exaggerating. As she was always exaggerating everything. Like when she told him he lacked proper wizarding pride. Only because he doubted she would be able to convince the Ministry that Muggles ought to be classified as beasts, not beings - and treated accordingly. He remembered how many difficulties his cousin Andromeda had faced when telling her parents that she was going to take Muggle Studies. Had it been five or six weeks before they had been ready to speak to her again? Well, he was not as foolish as that. He was not going to go against his parents' will. He was not going to give them another reason to hate him.
His stream of thoughts was interrupted by a loud hiss on the table behind him. Against his expectations, however, it was not Snape who had caused mayhem this time, but Potter, who was working on the table nearest to the Slytherin section. Next to him, Remus Lupin gave a scream of surprise while throwing flabberghasted looks at Potter and what seemed to be the remains of his match. In contrast, Severus Snape was doubling up with laughter, his wand still pointing at Potter's sooty forearm, clearly being responsible for whatever had happened. Professor McGonagall was at their table within seconds.
'Mr. Snape!' she shrieked. 'Is this YOUR doing?'
It was only now Snape seemed to realize that there was a teacher in the room and he withdrew his wand quickly, looking into Professor McGonagall's eyes in a very timid way all of a sudden. 'Err... no?'
'Rubbish,' said the Deputy Headmistress. 'You were pointing your wand at Mr. Potter. Did ye blast his match? Yes or no!'
'It was - he... I mean... he started it,' said Snape helplessly. 'I'm sorry.'
'Ye dinnae look it,' said Professor McGonagall sharply. 'One more incident like this today and I shall put you in detention. Do I make myself plain?'
Snape shrugged. His teacher was not pleased. 'Well?' she said more sharply.
'Yes, Professor,' muttered Snape, throwing angry glances at Potter and Lupin, who returned them all too gladly.
In times of war, James knew, you had to join forces with those you would rather avoid. And a match, burnt to the ground, so that he had to begin his whole lesson's work all over again, was certainly a good reason to start a war against this little shit who believed himself superior due to a few hexes he had most probaly learned at home. His parents were bound to be dark wizards. Just as the Blacks. And what decent one had ever heard of 'Exploramus'?
James knew his way in the wizarding world. His parents had warned him whom to trust and whom to avoid. The Snapes, the Malfoys and the Blacks were those his father hated most. He talked about them to James's mother when they thought he had gone to sleep on Saturday evenings. Dangerous were also those who, for some unknown reason, had been sorted into Slytherin, although their families were quite decent in general, such as Timothy Nott or Permirus Pex. James threw a few thoughtful looks at the bunch of Slytherins who seemed even less competent than the Ravenclaws, as far as he could judge from what they were doing to their needles right now.
Then, suddenly, James's gaze fell on Snape again, who had managed to make his needle look like a match after all and looked thus happier than James had ever seen him. He heard a derisive snort from Black who had discovered the same thing and grinned. Knowing that he would hardly gain Remus's support for a more or less concealed fight against the dark forces of Slytherin, James exchanged a quick look with his favourite archenemy, and they raised their wands simultaneously, pointing them at the small item in Snape's hand, who looked up promptly as if he had waited for nothing but to be attacked. Within seconds he let the match vanished in the pockets of his robes and raised his wand in defence.
'Dare touch it,' he hissed. 'Dare jinx me, and I will make your life a living hell.'
James looked at Black, whose grin had vanished from his face. There was only malice and hateful determination on it now.
'That won't be necessary,' he said, pointing his wand at his own hand. 'Liquidus.'
James gasped. So did some of the other students, among them Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who quickly assembled around their Gryffindor classmates when Black's hand was dissolving into nothingness, bit by bit, and Peter let out a suppressed scream, although he had, of course, seen who had cast the spell.
'What is it now?' snarled McGonagall's voice from behind the group of gathering students and the crowd parted. 'Mr. Black, what -'
She stopped and stared at the scene in front of her, including James and Snape still clutching their wands and Black biting his lip while half of his hand seemed to have melted like ice-cream. McGonagall let out a little scream of surprise, raised her wand and restored Black's arm within seconds. He gave her a relieved look, but James could see that it was fake. Pocketing her wand again, Professor McGonagall turned towards Snape and James, looking extremely shaken and disgusted.
'Which of ye cast that spell?'
All four Gryffindors, including Remus Lupin, pointed simultaneously at Snape, while the greasy-haired Slytherin indicated, quite truthfully, towards Black. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
'Mr. Black did it himself, did he?' she said sarcastically, turning towards Snape. 'Well, yer record speaks against ye, lad. Stay behind after class. I'm going to put you in detention for this. Now sit, everyone, and open yer textbooks at page fifteen.'
Remus had the slight suspicion that his mother might not have approved of his siding with James Potter and Sirius Black during their unusual Transfiguration lesson this morning, but to his own great susprise he could say with just as much confidence that he did not care. For the first time in his life he had the impression that, though they were by no means talking to each other, both, James and Black, valued what he had done for them and, in their own, very strange way, liked him for it. Perhaps this was the secret of friendship. Maybe all you had to do was make plain on whose side you were. Remus certainly was on James's side and, today at least, Black had been with them.
His instant effort of establishing a proper inner-house alliance, however, had been blown straight away. James had only just left the classroom when he turned again, looking straight into Black's eyes, and said, 'This does not mean that I like you - but thanks. I thought this was rather enjoyable.' Black gave him a long and thoughful look before replying.
'Well, I don't like you either. But you did the right thing today. Both of you. And a Black knows how to value well-meant support.'
Remus was sure James found this remark as revolting as he did, but one look into the taller boy's eyes told him that James was restraining himself like, perhaps, never before in his life. Remus made a reluctant step forward, positioning himself beside the two scowling boys so that they and Pettigrew formed a circle and said, 'Won't you lay your enmity aside? You seem to have a lot in common, after all.'
'He is a Black,' said James. 'I could never make friends with him.'
'He is a Potter,' said Black. 'We do not have anything in common.'
And they parted. Without looking back once. Remus stood there, next to Peter Pettigrew, who was trying to do up his robes so that they looked even less graceful than before, and got lost in thoughts. What made those two so sure they would never be friends? What was it they hated so much about each other? Was there ever to be peace between them?
They heard some distant sobbing through the door behind them and turned in surprise, exchanging an astounded look.
'Snape,' muttered Pettigrew. 'She's putting him in detention.'
Remus nodded. They listened.
'...and why,' came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice through the door, 'would he have done that? There is absolutely no logical reason -'
'He knew you'd think I'd done it,' snivelled Snape. 'He was going to land me in detention.'
'Ridiculous,' snarled Professor McGonagall impatiently. 'No one liquidizes their hand to land a fellow student in detention. I agree that Mr. Black has a strange attitude towards pain, but nae even he is that insane.'
'B-but...'
'There were four witnesses, Mr. Snape. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew saw how you cast that spell. Any more questions?'
There was a short silence. Remus was sure Snape was shaking his head, but he was not really interested in the outcome of the conversation, so he and Peter made their way towards the Gryffindor common room, expecting to find James and Black there - in one piece, hopefully.