Author's note: By the way, props to Staci (Feerique-Freak) who beta'd this for me and gave some hilarious title suggestions, though I didn't use them. Love ya!
Harry walked into Potions class with the Slytherins and Gryffindors the next day, weary from a restless night. His dreams had disturbed his sleep all through the night. She had pervaded his dreams, Morgan, coming to him dressed in white, golden snakes surrounding her arms, like…like a witch. But from a different time. A different life.
He snuck a glance at her across the classroom. Her beautiful russet skin glistened with sweat from the oppressive autumn heat. Her thick, wild hair fell and hid her face from view. She wasn't looking at him now, now when he called to her with his gaze. He sighed. What was happening to him?
Professor Snape walked into the classroom and strutted across the aisle to the front of the room, looking particularly sour today.
"No talking," he barked, though all conversation had ceased as soon as he'd entered the room. "Today we will be focusing on the Norahlea potion. Who can tell me its function?"
Hermione, of course, raised her hand immediately. Harry couldn't figure out why she was so eager to please him; he never appreciated her answers anyway. He glanced at Morgan again. She was smiling amusedly at Hermione. Harry didn't know whether she was smirking at Hermione's tendency to show off or if she truly admired her enthusiasm for sharing knowledge. It didn't seem like a derisive grin.
"Yes, Miss Granger, I know you know," Snape said with weary spitefulness. "Does anyone else know the function of the Norahlea potion?"
Everyone glanced at each other awkwardly but no one answered.
"Of course you don't," Snape said. "The Norahlea potion is a hallucinogenic substance of sorts. When ingested, the potion will make the drinker dream whatever the brewer of the potion wants him to dream, or make him see illusions when he's awake."
Harry thought of Morgan there in front of him, the Morgan in white with serpent bracelets. Was it him, or did she look at Harry specifically when Snape had mentioned the inducement of dreams?
"The brewer may also induce dreams or illusions on himself by drinking it," Snape went on. "Now, you all have the ingredients and instructions in front of you. I will be coming around to check on your progress."
It was a very difficult potion; not only did you have to mix the ingredients just right, as with every potion, but when you were done, you had to state or think very clearly of what you wanted the drinker to see or dream. Then you were supposed to see the images swirling in the potion as it was boiling. Hermione coached Harry and Ron through the spell process.
"Longbottom," they heard suddenly from Snape, his voice dripping with condescension, "I see nothing but swirling mist in your potion, and it's supposed to be steaming and boiling, not bubbling over."
Neville, now sixteen but still as terrified of Snape as ever, bowed his head in embarrassment and stammered, "Y-yes sir, Pro-Professor Snape."
"Ten points from Gryffindor, and you will stay after class until you get it right, if it is indeed possible for you to get anything right, Longbottom."
"Well, maybe, if you would bother to help him a little, he would get it right," said a cold voice across the room to Harry's right. To his and everybody's shock, it had come from Morgan.
Snape's head snapped up, pinpointing the source of the voice. "Do you have something you'd like to say, Miss Faye?" he said, his eyes narrowed. "Do you think you can teach this class better than I can?"
Morgan met his callous stare unflinchingly. "I would do better than to simply harass him," she replied, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "At least he wouldn't be terrified to ask for help."
Snape's eyes flicked down at her boiling Norahlea potion. "I don't see any images in your potion. Clearly you don't know how to follow instructions either."
"I followed them precisely," she retorted. "There must be something wrong with your instructions."
Snape's lip curled up in a sneer. "Ten more points from Gryffindor for your insolence," he said. "And if you don't like the way I teach my class, you may leave."
Everyone held their breath, including Harry, waiting to see what she would do. Without breaking eye contact with Snape, she calmly rose from her seat, gathered her supplies and strode out of the room. Before she closed the door behind her, she turned around and said, "You know, I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore would be very disappointed to know that one of his teachers singles out his students. How interesting that you never harass any of your own house." Before Snape could reply, she was gone.
Snape looked around at all the wide-eyed sixth years in the room, as if daring them to say one word about what had just happened. "Continue with your work," he ordered. After a moment's thought, he stalked out of the room after her.
Hermione quickly leaned over and whispered to Harry and Ron, "He did leave something out." She pointed at the open Potions book on her desk. "It takes at least ten minutes for the images to appear on the surface of the Potion."
Snape reappeared in the doorway a second later. Looked like he hadn't caught up with her after all, for a look of raging frustration further contorted his already harsh, unattractive features.
The last twenty minutes of class went on in total yet unsettled silence. As soon as class was dismissed, everyone began chattering about the extraordinary events of class, and of Morgan's very brave, or very foolish, behavior. Especially Neville, who expressed gratitude and dismay that Morgan Faye, who barely knew him, had defended him against the most sadistic teacher in Hogwarts. Malfoy left making a crack about dirty Americans, strutting around like they own the place.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione simply looked at each other in total disbelief, Ron with admiration, Hermione with slight disapproval. Harry himself didn't know what to think of this strange girl who permeated his dreams and had probably just gained the respect of the whole class, the Gryffindors, anyway.
Before leaving the room, Harry peered into Morgan's abandoned cauldron. Indistinct images swirled on the surface of the brew. Harry looked closer, squinting. He saw Morgan, and then he saw himself, Morgan reaching toward him, beckoning to his form on the smooth liquid. Then the swirling image faded.
"Harry, you coming?"
Harry looked up, startled. Hermione and Ron waited for him at the door, their expressions full of concern. "Yeah, yeah I'm coming," and with that he followed them out the door.
So what'd you think? I need 2 people besides Staci to R&R before I post another chapter. Love, Elf