Chapter Five
Harry's bare feet padded on the cool stone floor of the Hogwarts's corridors. The refreshing chill of the night teased at his wild raven hair and tickled his smooth face. Shuddering involuntarily, he drew the folds of his Invisibility cloak tightly around his chiselled frame.
The walk was definitely a good idea; it prevented him from falling asleep and gave him the much needed quietness to think. Something that Harry had little of these days. Although the misconception of him being deluded and mentally unstable was cleared, it was replaced with hero-worshipping and greater reverence from the student body.
Naturally, these only served to show Harry how naïve people could be and how easily swayed their beliefs were. Frustrated, Harry scrunched up his face and balled his hands into fists. For days since his return to Hogwarts he had struggled to keep his face devoid of weakness and keep his emotions in check.
He was sickened by the whole war, the necessity of matching himself up to Voldermort's standard, the responsibility of saving the entire wizarding world, a wizarding world whose loyalty faltered readily. What angered Harry the most was that he couldn't blame the wizarding world for being fooled, and everyone, including himself, knew he wouldn't forsake innocent lives for his own selfish reasons.
Harry slumped against the wall, exhaling tiredly. Pulling his glasses off his face, he rubbed his exhausted eyes; he really shouldn't be thinking about these things, he needed to concentrate on defeating Voldermort, not moan about how unfair the whole thing was.
'It would be better if I had something in my life worth fighting for.' Thought Harry, running his fingers through the soft fabric of his cloak.
--
"Tea, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore asked as he peered through his spectacles.
"Yes please."
Dumbledore nodded busily, as he clapped his hands twice, causing a pot of tea and two cups to appear on a tray, hovering just above his desk. Slowly settling the tray on his desk, Dumbledore busied himself by making tea muggle-style, as Weasley sat on the opposite side of the table, patiently waiting for Dumbledore to finish.
Weasley muttered thanks as Dumbledore pushed his cup of tea towards him, reaching out to take a sip of the freshly brewed tea. Studying the man over the rim of his teacup, Dumbledore eyes flitted over his long red hair, to the fanged tooth that hung at his ear, and the man's wild choice of clothing. Really, you'd think that a Head Boy of Hogwarts would be more conservative, but now was not the time for such debate, Dumbledore hardly received visits from Bill Weasley and such visits were of great importance to the Order.
"Found something of interest, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore inquired politely, beginning the obvious topic of conversation.
"As the matter of fact, yes, Professor, it's regarding the patrol on the twenty-sixth of August at Lake Nimue conducted by the Order for Death Eater activities. Well, when the team reached the place, there was no sign of Death Eaters."
Bill paused to place his teacup on the desk.
"However, when Kingsley did a scan for residual magic, he found a large source of magic cast over one side of the hill over looking the lake." Bill continued placidly, lacing his fingers together on his knee.
"Now, of course this could mean anything. A secret dungeon of Voldermort's perhaps, or the Loch Ness nesting ground. But the magic in the area reeked of the ancient times. Most likely someone had tried to conceal the area before, but the magic worn off and had allowed this ancient power to leak out."
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore sat up in his seat.
"Bill, I hope you understand what you're saying, after all, we all know what this could jolly well mean, and we don't want to make false allegations about this." Dumbledore said gravely, studying the serious form of Bill.
"I understand what you mean, Professor, I too had my suspicions in the beginning, but when I broke through the wards this afternoon, I knew I had to tell you as soon as possible." Bill replied earnestly.
"You have to see it for yourself Professor. It's unbelievable and incredible, but I believe we've found the enchanted cave that imprisoned Merlin to his final resting place."
At this, Dumbledore quickly got up and crossed the table towards Bill, "Are you absolutely, positively sure?"
Bill nodded, "Definitely, the place is overflowing with magic. But rest assured, no one knows about this except a few trusted members of the Order."
Dumbledore nodded, before settling back into his seat, nobody could find out about this, least of all Voldermort. Who knows what he would do with this knowledge. Who knows what this cave that imprisoned Merlin contained? Magic more complex than he had ever seen probably. Magic that was more powerful than his. Dumbledore was interrupted out of his thoughts by a polite clearing of throat by Bill.
"Professor, I think you should come down to the cave with me. There is this. inscription, left behind by Merlin, that I think can help us defeat Voldermort."
--
It was no surprise to Harry, when he got lost. It really wasn't his fault that the staircase he was on decided to move. So Harry now found himself in a corridor that he had never seen before. Unlike most corridors in Hogwarts, this one wasn't lit by several equally distanced torches, and the walls were lined with alternating mirrors and windows. The light of the waning full moon filtered through the cool glass of the windows and reflected artfully off the smooth surfaces of the mirrors.
Harry was intrigued by the corridor, never had he seen anything so dark, cold and beautiful at the same time. The stone walls had fine ethereal designs carved into them with immaculately romantic brushstrokes. Harry sighed wistfully as his fingers traced the designs, his breath misted on the plate of the mirror.
Then, as if on cue, Harry's ears caught the faint sound of metal clashing against metal. Harry shook that inane idea out of his head, why on earth would he hear that sound at that time of the night and in the middle of a deserted corridor? And what could possibly be causing the noise? Harry was sure the armours were banned from moving about in the night by Filch, they had caused far too much noise clanking around.
Again, the soft ring of metal, this time it seemed closer, and almost immediately, it was gone again.
Then again it was back, just like before, except a lot nearer, the sounds indefinitely distinct. Harry strained to hear the source of the clashes and jumped back when he realised the sounds were coming from the mirrors.
Tentatively, he approached the mirror, there was no doubt about it, the clashing of metal was coming from somewhere behind the mirror. 'Impossible,' thought Harry, 'unless there is some sort of room behind the mirror.'
Carefully, he studied to mirror, running his long fingers over the intricate motifs on the frame of the mirror, when his eyes caught a latch cleverly hidden to blend in with the rest of the pattern. Lifting the latch, he swung the mirror open slowly, in apprehension of what stood behind the mirror.
--
And stared into a hallway, the ghostly light of the moon shining through the windows, the walls lined with numerous, different forms of ancient weaponry, many looked as though they had been through many battles yet they glittered in the darkness with lustrous splendour.
The clash of metal echoed loudly through the hallway, Harry whipped around and saw two figures in the dim light sparring with each other, their swords flashing in the eerie glow of the night. Harry stared mesmerized, it was like they were dancing, like lovers, drawn apart momentarily, only to clash together with such ferocity and passion.
It was then, Harry realised that one of the figures, was just an empty suit of armour, enchanted to spar with the other. The beautiful dance of the blades, the figure clad in dark robes that swirled around him as he artfully sidestepped the armour's uncontrolled attack into the cool light of the moon. A glimmer of gold in the darkness.
"Malfoy?"
Distracted, the Slytherin broke his concentration from the fight, his face in a state of shock at the discovery of Harry's presence, before he collapsed as the armour thrust its sword through his chest.
--
'What is he doing here? He's not suppose to know of this place, no one does, not even Blaise.' Draco thought furiously, forgetting his duel momentarily.
Unknown to Draco, the armour was drawing closer, and in a dark flash its sword went out, and Draco's head went back, and he saw the moon and the helmet of the armour upside down.
He was falling face first.
And he went down and down past the windows of the corridor, until the stony floor rose up to catch him, and every bone of his body seemed to break within its thin case of skin. In a flood, his blood pooled around him and soaked his robes.
Cursing himself for being easily distracted, Draco's face contorted as the pain wrecked through his body. Panic seized him as he heard the suit of armour approaching to finish him off, he needed to have eye contact with the suit of armour to break the spell. Struggling, he tried to turn over, but the slightest movement caused unbearable pain to tear at his wound.
In despair, his eye caught his own reflection in the mirror, his hair was out of place, the white shirt he wore underneath his robes was drenched crimson and the suit of armour was just above him, sword poised, ready to deliver the final blow.
Desperately, he fumbled for his wand in the folds of his robes, fingers shaking in fear. Where was his strength when he needed it? Why couldn't he will himself to turn over and blast that suit of armour to pieces with a mere glance?
Finally! His wand! Now blast that overgrown metal to fragments! Do it, now! Draco wildly flung his wand behind him, but the spell came from another source.
"Diffindo!"
Potter. Again.
The force of the spell caused the wind to graze the back of his neck.
Defeated, Draco allowed his wand to clatter on the floor and roll towards the wall, pressing his forehead against the cool floor of the corridor.
Footsteps approaching. Draco looked up to see the hem of Potter's pants in front of him.
Harry frowned and thinned his lips.
"What exactly were you doing Malfoy?"
"What do you think I was doing Potter? Waltzing?" Draco retorted from the floor, slamming his fist against the floor as he struggled in vain to sit up.
Sighing exasperatedly, Harry bent down.
"What do you think you're doing? I don't need -"
Draco started, only to fall silently as he watched Harry turned him over and tend to the gaping hole in his chest.
The magic flooded his senses. Calming, soothing, like a softly sung lullaby effect. His eyelids drooped heavily, his breathing relaxed. And Potter was there, there was this glow emanating from him, his face was shining and perfect, the countenance of a god it seemed, seductive yet ethereal, with jet black hair and clear green eyes.
Potter moistened his lips, his mouth forming words.
"Malfoy," he said. It was unobtrusive. It was caressing.
"Malfoy."
Draco shook his head and blinked as though clearing his head and looked up to see Potter staring at him oddly.
Jerking violently, Draco pulled apart from Harry, slamming him against the nearest wall as realisation kicked in.
"What did you do?" Draco spat, his face within close proximity of Harry's, the energy of their magic seared and tingled across their skin.
His eyes flashed, his lips quivered as he drew in each breath. Fury coursed through him like poison, his eyes raked over Harry's face, searching. Trembling slightly, his fist shook as he gripped Harry's cloak.
Fear was gnawing at his insides.
Why did Potter make him feel this way?
"Can't you feel this? The tension? What have you done to me?" Draco seethed, a perfect incarnation of malice.
Harry's face was the epitome of confusion. It seemed the green eyes faltered. But then his face so subtly transformed itself to rage, that Draco drew back.
"Nothing but saved your ungrateful ass from death!" Harry shouted with anger that matched Draco's own.
Draco stared at Harry incredulously, could anyone be so thick? Could he not feel the uncontrolled energy?
But in the same miraculous way, the hatred melted and Harry stared at Draco regrettably as the boy sank to the floor, dazed.
"Look Malfoy, we both had a rough night, why don't we just go back to our beds and call it quits?" Harry suggested exhaustedly.
Draco looked up at the boy standing in the unlit corridor in his striped pyjamas and laughed bitterly.
"You really don't know a thing, do you Potter?"
--
Harry awoke bleary-eyed the next morning to Ron's frantic yells. Something about being late for Potions.
Late. For. Potions.
'SHIT.' Thought Harry as he leapt out of bed and scrambled to change into his robes. Grabbing his books, Harry hurtled down the stairs, almost flattening a pair of second years, tearing after Ron.
Bursting into the dungeons, Harry looked up to see the entire class at their seats, Snape in the midst of explaining that day's experiment.
"Late again Weasley. That would be fifteen points from Gryffindor, now get to your seat." Snape said without looking up from his work.
"And you too Potter?" Snape continued, fixing his eyes on Harry's tousled hair, "Five points from Gryffindor because I don't like extravagant enters, ten because you're late and another fifteen because this isn't your first time."
Harry stifled a retort, best not get Snape angry so early in the morning; god knows what he might do. Silently, Ron and Harry shuffled to their seats, exchanging looks of empathy. Hermione gave them a dark glare, apparently the lost of points affected her more than the both of them.
"Now, today we shall be doing individual work, so you can forget about gossiping with Miss Brown, Miss Patil." Snape started, as the Slytherins snickered.
Bored already, Harry allowed his eyes to roam the classroom, falling on a certain blond haired Slytherin. Harry glared at the boy, how did that scum manage to get himself looking so polished and on time when he had just about the same amount of sleep Harry had?
"Mr Potter, have you heard anything that I've said over the past one minute?" Snape asked icily, "If not, you may kindly move yourself to the front."
Angry that he allowed himself to be caught by Snape so easily, Harry picked up his books and dragged his cauldron to the front bench, viciously dumping them on the table and began with his experiment.
After an hour or so, most of the class's potions began to show signs of being the expected end result. Hermione's was a clear semi-liquid gel like substance with a faint pink mist hovering over the surface. Malfoy's was almost identical, save for the mist being a slightly darker shade than Hermione's.
But Harry's unlike the rest of the class was just utterly and obviously wrong. Instead of having a clear gel like substance, his was a dark red liquid that kept spewing out a deep purple gas. Of course his was not the only one with such trouble, Ron was having trouble with the potion too but at least his was a clear substance.
It was no surprise when Snape descended upon Harry like a hawk going in for the kill.
"Mr Potter, the Love Potion, though forbidden, is one of the easiest potions to make; did you read up on it before you attended this lesson?" Snape asked silkily, glancing down at Harry's books.
"Oh I see, you can't differentiate work from play." Snape said, holding up Harry's books. Which to Harry's horror were not his Potions books but his precious collection of books on Quidditch.
"I shall be confiscating these Potter; clearly you don't take Potions classes seriously." A malignant smile spread over Snape's face.
Harry gaped outraged by Snape's atrocity. It was obvious that he had grabbed the wrong books in his haste, was Snape not only stupid but blind?
It probably would have been better if Harry didn't say the last bit out loud.
Shaking in fury, his face contorted in anger, Snape wiped his wand over Harry's failure of a potion.
"Potter, you're the most abysmally idiotic student I've ever had the misfortune of teaching. Incapable of doing such a simple potion, utter disrespect for a professor. You've helped Gryffindor lose fifty points this lesson and earned yourself a week's worth of detention."
Seething and trembling in rage, Harry gripped the table as Snape announced his final punishment.
"-And since its obvious you can't brew a potion to save your insignificant life Potter, you shall carry on your remedial Potions from last year, every Thursday evenings at my office. Class dismissed."
What?
Remedial potions?
But he didn't have remedial potions last year. It was a cover for his occlumency training.
Wait a second,
Did Snape mean what he thinks Snape means?
Harry glanced uncertainly at Snape, whose face was still in cold fury.
And then a curt nod, as though to dismiss the class.
Harry's jaw dropped open as the class filed out of the dungeons.
--
Author's notes: Man, sorry this chapter is so late.. Been quite busy adjusting to my new school and seeing all my friends off to Australia one by one.. But still, at least it's out right? So enjoy.
Harry's bare feet padded on the cool stone floor of the Hogwarts's corridors. The refreshing chill of the night teased at his wild raven hair and tickled his smooth face. Shuddering involuntarily, he drew the folds of his Invisibility cloak tightly around his chiselled frame.
The walk was definitely a good idea; it prevented him from falling asleep and gave him the much needed quietness to think. Something that Harry had little of these days. Although the misconception of him being deluded and mentally unstable was cleared, it was replaced with hero-worshipping and greater reverence from the student body.
Naturally, these only served to show Harry how naïve people could be and how easily swayed their beliefs were. Frustrated, Harry scrunched up his face and balled his hands into fists. For days since his return to Hogwarts he had struggled to keep his face devoid of weakness and keep his emotions in check.
He was sickened by the whole war, the necessity of matching himself up to Voldermort's standard, the responsibility of saving the entire wizarding world, a wizarding world whose loyalty faltered readily. What angered Harry the most was that he couldn't blame the wizarding world for being fooled, and everyone, including himself, knew he wouldn't forsake innocent lives for his own selfish reasons.
Harry slumped against the wall, exhaling tiredly. Pulling his glasses off his face, he rubbed his exhausted eyes; he really shouldn't be thinking about these things, he needed to concentrate on defeating Voldermort, not moan about how unfair the whole thing was.
'It would be better if I had something in my life worth fighting for.' Thought Harry, running his fingers through the soft fabric of his cloak.
--
"Tea, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore asked as he peered through his spectacles.
"Yes please."
Dumbledore nodded busily, as he clapped his hands twice, causing a pot of tea and two cups to appear on a tray, hovering just above his desk. Slowly settling the tray on his desk, Dumbledore busied himself by making tea muggle-style, as Weasley sat on the opposite side of the table, patiently waiting for Dumbledore to finish.
Weasley muttered thanks as Dumbledore pushed his cup of tea towards him, reaching out to take a sip of the freshly brewed tea. Studying the man over the rim of his teacup, Dumbledore eyes flitted over his long red hair, to the fanged tooth that hung at his ear, and the man's wild choice of clothing. Really, you'd think that a Head Boy of Hogwarts would be more conservative, but now was not the time for such debate, Dumbledore hardly received visits from Bill Weasley and such visits were of great importance to the Order.
"Found something of interest, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore inquired politely, beginning the obvious topic of conversation.
"As the matter of fact, yes, Professor, it's regarding the patrol on the twenty-sixth of August at Lake Nimue conducted by the Order for Death Eater activities. Well, when the team reached the place, there was no sign of Death Eaters."
Bill paused to place his teacup on the desk.
"However, when Kingsley did a scan for residual magic, he found a large source of magic cast over one side of the hill over looking the lake." Bill continued placidly, lacing his fingers together on his knee.
"Now, of course this could mean anything. A secret dungeon of Voldermort's perhaps, or the Loch Ness nesting ground. But the magic in the area reeked of the ancient times. Most likely someone had tried to conceal the area before, but the magic worn off and had allowed this ancient power to leak out."
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore sat up in his seat.
"Bill, I hope you understand what you're saying, after all, we all know what this could jolly well mean, and we don't want to make false allegations about this." Dumbledore said gravely, studying the serious form of Bill.
"I understand what you mean, Professor, I too had my suspicions in the beginning, but when I broke through the wards this afternoon, I knew I had to tell you as soon as possible." Bill replied earnestly.
"You have to see it for yourself Professor. It's unbelievable and incredible, but I believe we've found the enchanted cave that imprisoned Merlin to his final resting place."
At this, Dumbledore quickly got up and crossed the table towards Bill, "Are you absolutely, positively sure?"
Bill nodded, "Definitely, the place is overflowing with magic. But rest assured, no one knows about this except a few trusted members of the Order."
Dumbledore nodded, before settling back into his seat, nobody could find out about this, least of all Voldermort. Who knows what he would do with this knowledge. Who knows what this cave that imprisoned Merlin contained? Magic more complex than he had ever seen probably. Magic that was more powerful than his. Dumbledore was interrupted out of his thoughts by a polite clearing of throat by Bill.
"Professor, I think you should come down to the cave with me. There is this. inscription, left behind by Merlin, that I think can help us defeat Voldermort."
--
It was no surprise to Harry, when he got lost. It really wasn't his fault that the staircase he was on decided to move. So Harry now found himself in a corridor that he had never seen before. Unlike most corridors in Hogwarts, this one wasn't lit by several equally distanced torches, and the walls were lined with alternating mirrors and windows. The light of the waning full moon filtered through the cool glass of the windows and reflected artfully off the smooth surfaces of the mirrors.
Harry was intrigued by the corridor, never had he seen anything so dark, cold and beautiful at the same time. The stone walls had fine ethereal designs carved into them with immaculately romantic brushstrokes. Harry sighed wistfully as his fingers traced the designs, his breath misted on the plate of the mirror.
Then, as if on cue, Harry's ears caught the faint sound of metal clashing against metal. Harry shook that inane idea out of his head, why on earth would he hear that sound at that time of the night and in the middle of a deserted corridor? And what could possibly be causing the noise? Harry was sure the armours were banned from moving about in the night by Filch, they had caused far too much noise clanking around.
Again, the soft ring of metal, this time it seemed closer, and almost immediately, it was gone again.
Then again it was back, just like before, except a lot nearer, the sounds indefinitely distinct. Harry strained to hear the source of the clashes and jumped back when he realised the sounds were coming from the mirrors.
Tentatively, he approached the mirror, there was no doubt about it, the clashing of metal was coming from somewhere behind the mirror. 'Impossible,' thought Harry, 'unless there is some sort of room behind the mirror.'
Carefully, he studied to mirror, running his long fingers over the intricate motifs on the frame of the mirror, when his eyes caught a latch cleverly hidden to blend in with the rest of the pattern. Lifting the latch, he swung the mirror open slowly, in apprehension of what stood behind the mirror.
--
And stared into a hallway, the ghostly light of the moon shining through the windows, the walls lined with numerous, different forms of ancient weaponry, many looked as though they had been through many battles yet they glittered in the darkness with lustrous splendour.
The clash of metal echoed loudly through the hallway, Harry whipped around and saw two figures in the dim light sparring with each other, their swords flashing in the eerie glow of the night. Harry stared mesmerized, it was like they were dancing, like lovers, drawn apart momentarily, only to clash together with such ferocity and passion.
It was then, Harry realised that one of the figures, was just an empty suit of armour, enchanted to spar with the other. The beautiful dance of the blades, the figure clad in dark robes that swirled around him as he artfully sidestepped the armour's uncontrolled attack into the cool light of the moon. A glimmer of gold in the darkness.
"Malfoy?"
Distracted, the Slytherin broke his concentration from the fight, his face in a state of shock at the discovery of Harry's presence, before he collapsed as the armour thrust its sword through his chest.
--
'What is he doing here? He's not suppose to know of this place, no one does, not even Blaise.' Draco thought furiously, forgetting his duel momentarily.
Unknown to Draco, the armour was drawing closer, and in a dark flash its sword went out, and Draco's head went back, and he saw the moon and the helmet of the armour upside down.
He was falling face first.
And he went down and down past the windows of the corridor, until the stony floor rose up to catch him, and every bone of his body seemed to break within its thin case of skin. In a flood, his blood pooled around him and soaked his robes.
Cursing himself for being easily distracted, Draco's face contorted as the pain wrecked through his body. Panic seized him as he heard the suit of armour approaching to finish him off, he needed to have eye contact with the suit of armour to break the spell. Struggling, he tried to turn over, but the slightest movement caused unbearable pain to tear at his wound.
In despair, his eye caught his own reflection in the mirror, his hair was out of place, the white shirt he wore underneath his robes was drenched crimson and the suit of armour was just above him, sword poised, ready to deliver the final blow.
Desperately, he fumbled for his wand in the folds of his robes, fingers shaking in fear. Where was his strength when he needed it? Why couldn't he will himself to turn over and blast that suit of armour to pieces with a mere glance?
Finally! His wand! Now blast that overgrown metal to fragments! Do it, now! Draco wildly flung his wand behind him, but the spell came from another source.
"Diffindo!"
Potter. Again.
The force of the spell caused the wind to graze the back of his neck.
Defeated, Draco allowed his wand to clatter on the floor and roll towards the wall, pressing his forehead against the cool floor of the corridor.
Footsteps approaching. Draco looked up to see the hem of Potter's pants in front of him.
Harry frowned and thinned his lips.
"What exactly were you doing Malfoy?"
"What do you think I was doing Potter? Waltzing?" Draco retorted from the floor, slamming his fist against the floor as he struggled in vain to sit up.
Sighing exasperatedly, Harry bent down.
"What do you think you're doing? I don't need -"
Draco started, only to fall silently as he watched Harry turned him over and tend to the gaping hole in his chest.
The magic flooded his senses. Calming, soothing, like a softly sung lullaby effect. His eyelids drooped heavily, his breathing relaxed. And Potter was there, there was this glow emanating from him, his face was shining and perfect, the countenance of a god it seemed, seductive yet ethereal, with jet black hair and clear green eyes.
Potter moistened his lips, his mouth forming words.
"Malfoy," he said. It was unobtrusive. It was caressing.
"Malfoy."
Draco shook his head and blinked as though clearing his head and looked up to see Potter staring at him oddly.
Jerking violently, Draco pulled apart from Harry, slamming him against the nearest wall as realisation kicked in.
"What did you do?" Draco spat, his face within close proximity of Harry's, the energy of their magic seared and tingled across their skin.
His eyes flashed, his lips quivered as he drew in each breath. Fury coursed through him like poison, his eyes raked over Harry's face, searching. Trembling slightly, his fist shook as he gripped Harry's cloak.
Fear was gnawing at his insides.
Why did Potter make him feel this way?
"Can't you feel this? The tension? What have you done to me?" Draco seethed, a perfect incarnation of malice.
Harry's face was the epitome of confusion. It seemed the green eyes faltered. But then his face so subtly transformed itself to rage, that Draco drew back.
"Nothing but saved your ungrateful ass from death!" Harry shouted with anger that matched Draco's own.
Draco stared at Harry incredulously, could anyone be so thick? Could he not feel the uncontrolled energy?
But in the same miraculous way, the hatred melted and Harry stared at Draco regrettably as the boy sank to the floor, dazed.
"Look Malfoy, we both had a rough night, why don't we just go back to our beds and call it quits?" Harry suggested exhaustedly.
Draco looked up at the boy standing in the unlit corridor in his striped pyjamas and laughed bitterly.
"You really don't know a thing, do you Potter?"
--
Harry awoke bleary-eyed the next morning to Ron's frantic yells. Something about being late for Potions.
Late. For. Potions.
'SHIT.' Thought Harry as he leapt out of bed and scrambled to change into his robes. Grabbing his books, Harry hurtled down the stairs, almost flattening a pair of second years, tearing after Ron.
Bursting into the dungeons, Harry looked up to see the entire class at their seats, Snape in the midst of explaining that day's experiment.
"Late again Weasley. That would be fifteen points from Gryffindor, now get to your seat." Snape said without looking up from his work.
"And you too Potter?" Snape continued, fixing his eyes on Harry's tousled hair, "Five points from Gryffindor because I don't like extravagant enters, ten because you're late and another fifteen because this isn't your first time."
Harry stifled a retort, best not get Snape angry so early in the morning; god knows what he might do. Silently, Ron and Harry shuffled to their seats, exchanging looks of empathy. Hermione gave them a dark glare, apparently the lost of points affected her more than the both of them.
"Now, today we shall be doing individual work, so you can forget about gossiping with Miss Brown, Miss Patil." Snape started, as the Slytherins snickered.
Bored already, Harry allowed his eyes to roam the classroom, falling on a certain blond haired Slytherin. Harry glared at the boy, how did that scum manage to get himself looking so polished and on time when he had just about the same amount of sleep Harry had?
"Mr Potter, have you heard anything that I've said over the past one minute?" Snape asked icily, "If not, you may kindly move yourself to the front."
Angry that he allowed himself to be caught by Snape so easily, Harry picked up his books and dragged his cauldron to the front bench, viciously dumping them on the table and began with his experiment.
After an hour or so, most of the class's potions began to show signs of being the expected end result. Hermione's was a clear semi-liquid gel like substance with a faint pink mist hovering over the surface. Malfoy's was almost identical, save for the mist being a slightly darker shade than Hermione's.
But Harry's unlike the rest of the class was just utterly and obviously wrong. Instead of having a clear gel like substance, his was a dark red liquid that kept spewing out a deep purple gas. Of course his was not the only one with such trouble, Ron was having trouble with the potion too but at least his was a clear substance.
It was no surprise when Snape descended upon Harry like a hawk going in for the kill.
"Mr Potter, the Love Potion, though forbidden, is one of the easiest potions to make; did you read up on it before you attended this lesson?" Snape asked silkily, glancing down at Harry's books.
"Oh I see, you can't differentiate work from play." Snape said, holding up Harry's books. Which to Harry's horror were not his Potions books but his precious collection of books on Quidditch.
"I shall be confiscating these Potter; clearly you don't take Potions classes seriously." A malignant smile spread over Snape's face.
Harry gaped outraged by Snape's atrocity. It was obvious that he had grabbed the wrong books in his haste, was Snape not only stupid but blind?
It probably would have been better if Harry didn't say the last bit out loud.
Shaking in fury, his face contorted in anger, Snape wiped his wand over Harry's failure of a potion.
"Potter, you're the most abysmally idiotic student I've ever had the misfortune of teaching. Incapable of doing such a simple potion, utter disrespect for a professor. You've helped Gryffindor lose fifty points this lesson and earned yourself a week's worth of detention."
Seething and trembling in rage, Harry gripped the table as Snape announced his final punishment.
"-And since its obvious you can't brew a potion to save your insignificant life Potter, you shall carry on your remedial Potions from last year, every Thursday evenings at my office. Class dismissed."
What?
Remedial potions?
But he didn't have remedial potions last year. It was a cover for his occlumency training.
Wait a second,
Did Snape mean what he thinks Snape means?
Harry glanced uncertainly at Snape, whose face was still in cold fury.
And then a curt nod, as though to dismiss the class.
Harry's jaw dropped open as the class filed out of the dungeons.
--
Author's notes: Man, sorry this chapter is so late.. Been quite busy adjusting to my new school and seeing all my friends off to Australia one by one.. But still, at least it's out right? So enjoy.