At twenty past eight, Professor Snape returned to the common room.

"Would the first years please follow me to the potions classroom." Taking but a moment to grab their bags the Slytherins and Avalonians followed the potions master to his classroom. Quietly briefing them as to the potion they would be making, then telling them to sit and wait for the late Gryffindors. The Slytherins and Avalonians sat in pairs around the edge of the classroom, forcing the Gryffs to clump in the centre.

Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley walked in together. Lavender Brown, Pavrati Patil and Louise Marchbank walked arm in arm I always this was a rather impressive manoeuvre, especially if all three are carrying heavy school bags and giggling. Neville Longbottom and Sephria Chroner trailed the group looking lost and out of place.

Snape began the class with a register. He, denied the fun of tormenting Potter, decided on Ron as being the next best target.

"Yet another Weasley. Tell me, how does one find second hand potions ingredients?" Ron's face took on the well-noted shade 'Weasley blush' a startling colour that resembled their hair. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, as Snape finished off the register and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape spoke softly, but he forced himself into the minds of each present.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to even hope to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence engulfed the classroom as his speech finished, and Ryll began to creep forward in her seat, eager to prove herself before she remembered the role she had to play.

"Weasley!" Snape said suddenly.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Ron appeared stumped. And then he answered ...

"A nice cup of tea, sir?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor unless you wish to drink said nice cup of tea Weasley." Snape paused.

"Ryll would you be so kind as to tell Weasley exactly what he would be drinking?"

"Of course sir. The potion is a sleeping draught so strong it is known as the Draught of Living Death. To awake the consumer prematurely one requires the antidote, the Draught of Awakening which only a Blood witch or wizard can produce, else the consumer will sleep until they die, the time is allotted or their conscious works out how to escape." Snape smirked.

"You are a prime example of a dunderhead Weasley. Ryll is muggle-raised; yet she knows exactly what the potion is, whereas you are pure- raised with five older brothers who have all been taught by myself have worse than no idea. Let's try again Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a fresh bezoar?"

"I don't know sir."

"It would help if you opened a book before you arrived Weasley. Vius?"

"Fresh, the stomach of a goat, sir. It will save you from almost all but the darkest of poisons."

"Thank you Vius. What is the difference, Weasley between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Neville shot bolt upright at a question he could answer.

"I don't know." Weasley said defiantly. "I think Neville does though. Why not ask him?"

"For your information Weasley, monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying that down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment from the Gryffindor contingent. Over the noise they could Snape said "And another ten points for your cheek, Weasley."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all in pairs, carefully combining the Slytherins and Avalonians into pairs with a competent potions maker and someone capable of following orders precisely. On the other hand the Gryffindors were partnered haphazardly. He set them to mixing a simple boil-curing potion. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snakes fangs, criticising the Gryffindors and gently correcting the Slytherins and Avalonians. He congratulated the Avalonian-Slytherin partnerships on there exemplarily demonstration of peaceful inter-house working relationships and on the way they had stewed their horned slugs, awarding the Slytherins a point each.

When clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing emerged from two corners of the dungeon, the trio exchanged looks and began to hiss in concert. - Shield those who deserve our aid - For those who could see magic a thin shield capable of deflecting a potion surrounded the Slytherins, Neville and Sephria. The other Gryffindors weren't so lucky. All six had huge angry red boils and whimpered in pain.

"I presume you added the porcupine quills before you removed the cauldron from the flame." The six nodded and whimpered. "Mr Longbottom, Miss Chroner take your housemates to the infirmary. The rest of you finish your potions, bottle them and all of you can write me a fifteen inch essay on the reason why you must not add porcupine quills before you remove the flame." The Gryffindors packed up quickly as Snape vanished their botched potions, and they fled the potions classroom still whimpering from the potion's effects. As soon as they had all left, Snape placed a silencing charm on the classroom and the laughter started.