If you need me to tell you that J. K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter… you have been living in a cave.
Chapter 18:
Advanced Potion Theory Fifth-year really started today and Snape had refused to come out of his room. Shouting that he wouldn't submit to going around like a one-eyed-jack just because It had made a clumsy misstep. So for the second day in a row the male had to cover for the real Snape.
The students filed in slowly, and placed their scrolls on the corner of his/Snape's desk. Spirits were low and no one talked or pushed to get to their seats.
"One comment about the scarf and your house won't even dream of seeing positive point numbers until long after you're dead." He announced, then began to look over their work and quietly took his own seat. 'He couldn't come up with that? No! he has to throw a tantrum instead.'
His annoyance with Snape was forgotten as he flipped from one paper to another. He chuckled. The cold rattle of his mirthful contempt was unnerving. Time dragged on. He occasionally had to stop to shake his head and compose himself. After skimming the last of the reports he stood, came around to the front of his/their desk and began to sort the papers as he called out names.
Holding up the five papers whose owners' names he had called, the male motioned for them to stand. "Gather your things. You are dismissed." He dropped their scrolls into the waste paper basket to the right of his desk.
Jaws dropped, Hermione's one of the first. The three Ravenclaws and two Gryffindors, who were standing, dazedly picked up their bags and supplies and left closing the door behind them.
Hermione and Neville watched as the only other Gryffindors filed out with heads bowed. Slytherins now dominated the room with a large percentage of Ravenclaws a few Huffelpuffs and the two forlorn Gryffindors rounded out the class.
He started to recite another list of names and their papers were also held apart from the others, "You seven I think at least deserve some sort of explanation. You were wrong," he said, dropping their work into the trash as well. He waited for them to leave, and seemed almost to relish throwing them out.
There were fewer Ravenclaws and Slytherins, but amazingly none of the three Huffelpuffs had been eliminated. Walking among the desks he handed back the scrolls to the remaining students, keeping the longest and shortest for last.
"It should come as no surprise to anyone that Miss Granger found time to write a veritable encyclopedia on her research results." He sneered handing her work to her. There were a few uneasy snickers from the Slytherins. "Equally unsurprising was Mister Longbottom's single sheet's worth," he handed over the last essay and resumed his place at the head of the class. They didn't bother to laugh; Neville was blushing enough to satisfy them.
Again he leaned back against his desk and loosely crossed his arms, "Miss Granger. Would you please read to the class the end result of all your labors?"
Hermione's eyes went round as she tried to convince herself that she had heard wrong, "Sir?" she squeaked. He just raised a black brow and waited. Feeling sick and quite certain that she would vomit she read her concluding statement. "As witnessed by the above list of sources that I examined I have done a thorough investigation, and have been unable to successfully identify the potion in question." Ashen and blushing she sank heavily to her seat and hid her face.
"At this point I believe it would be most instructive, Mister Longbottom, if you would read your entire essay. Now." He could practically hear the walls falling from around their mind's preconceptions.
Taking several breaths and without looking up, Neville jerked to his feet and blurted, "I was unable to identify the potion." He sat and tried not to look as sick as he felt.
"That would be because," all eyes turned from the disgraced Gryffindors to the black clad figure of the Potion Master, "I have yet to publish it." 'Crash! And the walls came tumbling down.'
Hermione's head came up slowly, "What?!"
He favored her with a lopsided smirk, "In fact, I am not sure that I will ever be able to publish it. It has however, provided you with a wonderful introduction to the world of potions." He stepped away from his desk, "I do not expect that any of you will become Potion Masters, which incidentally is a title applied to both male and female alike. I myself have taught three students in my sixteen years here who have achieved that rank. Most who do become Potion Masters would sort into either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Tenacity," he inclined his head to indicate the Huffelpuffs. "And daring," he looked to the Gryffindors, "Are required. Drive though, is the most important ingredient. It is also something that Slytherins and Ravenclaws have in abundance. I can not explain to you what it is that drives me to do this, but I can teach you to at least see the music, hear the scents, and feel the colors that exist for every Potion Master."
Not sure how to interpret what had been said, no one made a sound. Most were reconsidering their estimation of his sanity.
Neville though, leaned forward excitedly, 'Where is he going with this?'
"Your assignment is to take the three primary colors; red, yellow, and blue as well as the three secondary colors; orange, green, and purple and describe them as tactile sensations. I will expect you to turn in your papers when you have finished, regardless of the time or day. The deadline is next Wednesday at the start of class. You may begin now."
'I can't believe they insisted on walking three abreast,' the male stepped in and held the lab door for the other two. "Robe over there," he waved in the direction of a cluttered table to the right, "and get on the slab." He started to rummage through the contents of a cabinet, gathering supplies.
Remus and Sirius cautiously approached the door. The tropical steam that rushed out to meet them was a surprise to Black. "Whuh," he gasped.
The tables that, last time had been cluttered with a few simmering containers of multicolored fluids and tilting haphazard piles of paper were now nearly cleared. Every table and counter had been moved to make room on the floor for the huge cauldrons that were cooking up who knew what. The bright yellow and orange flames looked strange and very Muggle.
"Oh," Remus glanced back at him, and began to unfasten his robe. "Yah, it gets hot in here when he's brewing potions." He shrugged, "If he isn't working on anything it's cold."
Sirius looked around for a bit, then walked over to lean against the cabinet beside the one It was looking through. "So," there was an edge to his casual tone, "What am I supposed to call you then?"
"Call me?" He thought for a moment, "I don't exactly have a name." The male shrugged and returned to his task. "I guess you could just call me Snape. You always have."
"Snape?" Sirius couldn't believe it and made sure everyone knew.
"Does it really matter?" He stood and placed the needles, lines, bag, and other things that are needed to draw a pint of blood, on a tray beside the Slab.
"Uh," Sirius couldn't bring himself to call It Snape, "why do you call the table a slab?"
He looked up snapping on a glove, "Do I? Well I guess that would be because that's what I was taught to call it. Would you get the music?" On went the other glove.
This time Sirius asked if he could adjust the volume, before pushing the play button.
"No. I'm not comfortable working on it with it making so much noise." Alcohol was swabbed on Lupin's arm as he lay back on the slab/table. "Certain concessions are unavoidable when working with-" he waved a hand over the prone Lupin.
"Why. Do. You. Call. Him. An. it?" Sirius demanded with forced calm.
Lupin, already sweating, shot him a panicked look, "Would you stop pushing him while he's holding a needle!"
The counterfeit Snape sounded exaggeratedly wounded, "I've been doing this for two years now and you still don't trust me?"
"You almost killed me last time!" Lupin snapped back, "And I didn't even know you existed then."
"That was your fault, not mine" he reasoned, ignoring the controversy over his not being or being.
"How's that?!" Lupin shouted.
"That drug has a very low reaction rate. I was greatly inconvenienced because you chose not to inform me that you were allergic to it," he sounded serenely placid.
"It's not as though I knew I was allergic!"
"Ignorance is no excuse."
"What kind of logic is that?!" Remus' mind boggled at the sheer bizarreness of the conversation.
"I'm done, the bag should be full in about an hour. Lay still and-" he turned to Black, "If you had granted my simple request, I would not have had to get him so worked up to distract him enough to get the needle in." He started clearing away the wrappers and other trash, "I was wondering if-" he hesitated, "Nah, never mind." Before he could leave though he changed his mind and decided to ask anyway, "I have to get the results, I usually just meet Nick, he's a sort of go-between, at the Raven. I can't keep you under my protection from Toronto so… Would you like to come?" He looked from Remus to Sirius and back.
Remus and Sirius spoke at the same time. "You were able to get the blood sent off then?" "What is The Raven?"
"It's a- Well it's a sort of nightclub. They cater mostly to Vamps, but they don't close the door to Thumpers." The answer was not very enlightening. "And no, I was not able to send the samples. Fenny saw to it."
Sirius held up a hand, "You had a House Elf take care of our blood work, and now you're asking us to come with you to a Vampire nightclub in Toronto?"
"Aye."
Remus called from the slab, "When are you going?"
"Friday after diner."
"We're coming then," Remus silenced Sirius' objection with a glare.
"I'll be back in an hour. Don't get up and keep the bag moving so it doesn't coagulate." He slipped out leaving Remus and Sirius to their own devices.
"What did you mean 'We're coming then?' Do you know what you just volunteered us for?" Sirius flung his arms up and let them fall back down.
"Albus said we were here to help him," slowly tipping the bag from side to side he tried not to think about the tube in his arm. "For some reason his being 'bonded' with Snape is bad, and we need to spend time with him to change it."
"Yah I was there when he said all that," Sirius absently ran one finger along the grove cut into one side of the slab, "This doesn't add up. Why has he been having that 'thing' work on you? I mean it's a coroner or something."
"A coroner? Where did you get that?"
Sirius boosted himself onto the edge of the steel table, "A 'slab' is what they call the autopsy platform. His insistence on calling you an 'it' but only while he's working on you. You make too much noise. It just makes sense."
"You've watched too many episodes of Quincy," Remus half-joked.
"Yah, maybe." He chuckled, "So what's with the pirate look?"
"Oh you missed a very interesting day," Remus groaned.