Chapter 9: Bitter and Twisted.
In a certain classroom deep within Hogwarts' dungeons, a certain professor was once again becoming irritable. It was Monday, and the final double lesson of the day with the sixth years. Sixth years who were making as much noise in the corridor outside his room as the Firsts, (And there were -only- twelve taking the NEWT this year.) It would always be the unfortunate outcome of mixing such houses as Gryffindor and Slytherin.
'Such a row those students make. Incessantly wittering, believing that noise is preferable over silence. Young fools.' A thin face scowled as its owner scrawled a final line of words on the parchment.
He had not been like them in his sixth year. He had preferred staying silent, and listening in to other people's conversations. He still believed far more could be learnt this way. Pity so few of the students followed this example.
__________
Harry quietly joined the back of the boisterous line of students.
'Well if it isn't no-friends Potty boy,' hissed Draco Malfoy, turning round. 'What - got bored of lurking in the cabbage patches?'
Ironically, Draco was minus the usual Crabbe and Goyle, who had unsurprisingly failed to gain high enough grades to do a NEWT in Potions.
'Go screw yourself Malfoy,' returned Harry coolly.
'Crying over Black again, were you?' Malfoy leered. He screwed up his face and rubbed his eyes, Oh, Boo-hoo, oh Mudblood, oh Weasel, somebody feel sorry for me.'
Harry smiled politely at him. 'Yeah, I was actually. I got really depressed about it. But I feel a bit better now. Thanks for asking.' Harry turned as the classroom door swung open. 'See you in potions, Malfoy.'
As Harry walked in the dungeon he smiled to himself. And to think once, he had actually let comments like that wind him up!
Snape cast a quizzical look over his students as they filtered in. He couldn't help noticing that while Malfoy had a particularly ugly scowl on his face, Potter, though looking rather pale and tired, was actually smiling faintly to himself.
Potter - smiling - in his dungeon?
Hermione had been at the front of the queue. Harry caught up with her. Ron, of course didn't take potions anymore, and was quite happy about it.
'Where have you been?' she hissed as they got out her books.'
'Finishing off Potions homework,' whispered Harry.
'But you were working on that yesterday,' she frowned at him. 'And the day before! Don't tell me you've actually decided to swot and read books?'
'I can make an effort over something if I want to, you know,' he hissed back.
Hermione stared at him, wondering what Ron would say if he found out. It had been the boys' code of honour never to try more than they had to in potions.
Harry glanced round and smiled as Neville sat next to him. Lavender Brown had also appeared next to him. They were the only four Gryffindors left taking potions; which left them in the minority - there were twice as many Slytherins.
'Quieten down!' called Snape.
Harry felt himself tense at hearing the voice. This was the first potions lesson since his suicide attempt in Snape's office, and that awful revelation about his blood. And Snape had still not taken a single point off him for it.
So if anything was going to change, it was going to change this lesson.
'Today, and over the next few weeks, due to the nearing of examinations, I have decided to set you all a series of tasks we have already covered, to aid your revision.'
Harry relaxed slightly. If he had done it before, he had a slight chance of doing better this time.
'However-' continued Snape more smoothly, 'considering that you are all NEWT students now, and have already done these tasks before, I will be expecting you all to gain no less than full marks.'
He scanned their apprehensive faces with clear distaste, his eyes glinting. 'To encourage your success, I may of course consider handing out a detention - or three - to those who fail-'
Harry tensed again, and looked down. He didn't want to witness that cold black-eyed stare this time. This lesson onwards, he was sure, would be where Snape would plot the start of his downfall.
He cast a sideways look at Neville. His performance in his Potions OWL had astonished everyone. Incredibly, it seemed as if it was mostly nerves, and not lack of abilities, which had caused him to melt cauldrons so often. And when Snape had been absent from the exam, the boy had surprised even himself. Neville Longbottom had passed his potions, and he had a good grade.
Harry noticed that although Neville looked apprehensive, he wasn't terrified anymore. After what had happened to him last summer, even Snape had to try harder to rattle him. He was more focused, more serious, and had begun to believe in himself.
The instructions had appeared on the board, and the store cupboard had unlocked. Unsurprisingly, the instructions were for the three most difficult potions of the year. Hermione had already guessed, of course, and muttered them under her breath.
They were very quick potions to brew, but required no less than pinpoint accuracy with measuring the ingredients. They were, the Concoction of Faith, the Ageing potion, and the Claw of Darkness draught. Neville kindly offered to fetch the ingredients for them all, and wandered off to join the queue.
Harry froze when he read the name of the last potion. This would have the effect of revealing all the times in your life you had been affected by things aligned with darkness. Whoever took this today would as good as share their past with the whole class.
Immediately Harry's thoughts turned to Voldemort. He scowled. Could he ever go a day now without something reminding him of that subject.?
'Your turn this time Harry,' Hermione whispered excitedly. 'Maybe this is the chance to find out what's exactly in your blood!'
Harry blinked. Of course, Snape never usually bothered with revision lessons - but this one was the exception. All because it accommodated his devious little plan!
He would want to cause Harry as much discomfort as possible in revenge for his giving him a fever. And where better to do it than in double Potions in front of a gang of Slytherins?
Pansy and Draco especially would ensure that the gossip spread fast.
And the fact that whatever 'creature's' blood was running in Snape's veins had failed to gain him popularity, Harry imagined Hogwarts once again turning on him like they had with his Parselmouth ability, whispering rumours behind his back. Could he cope with more rumours?
Harry chanced a glance at the vindictive Potions Master himself, who was sat behind his desk, then looked quickly away. That was all he needed. He knew exactly what -that- particular smirk meant.
Ron would have identified it as the smug I'm-going-to-make-you-scrub- bedpans, look. What nasty secret was Snape holing up for him?
He felt sick. But making an excuse to get out of the classroom never worked with Snape. If Harry said he was ill, he would just get sneered at and left to suffer. He really wished Ron still did potions; he always carried around one of his brothers' Skiving Snackboxes for emergencies.
But he didn't even have a single puking pastille. This left Harry with just two choices - deliberately make the potion wrongly and likely get a 'detention or three' and extra homework, or make it properly and reveal whatever attractive 'curse' he carried for the amusement of Draco Malfoy.
'Well, Harry?' Hermione was looking at him oddly. 'Wouldn't you be glad to know?'
'No,' he muttered darkly. 'Snape would enjoy it far too much.'
'But it's your turn,' she hissed. 'And I really don't fancy being petrified for a third time!'
The effects of the Basilisk stare in their second year had been temporarily recreated when Hermione had volunteered to take the potion. She had gone as rigid as a statue, and this had given the Slytherins a good opportunity to flick beetle eyes and other disgusting things at her before Snape handed round the antidote.
Harry sighed wearily. Detention it would have to be. And Hermione wouldn't let him get his potion wrong, so he would have to ruin it when she wasn't looking.
'Thanks Neville,' he smiled, as his friend returned with his arms full of ingredients.
The Concoction of Faith was the quickest to brew. Neville's concentration reached such a level that he even failed to notice Snape's half a dozen sneers in his direction, trying to scare him into making a mistake.
Half an hour later Harry's potion wasn't the ideal colour, but it would work. Neville's was passable as well. As they drank it down they waved goodbye to sanity for the next few minutes. This was because drinking Concoction of Faith would make them completely, and utterly gullible.
Lavender and Hermione were desperately trying to stifle a giggling fit - they had the boys convinced that they were both really famous actresses, that the world was flat and the sea dripped off the edge, and that Snape was gay, and madly in love with Draco Malfoy.
'I knew it! said Neville excitedly. 'It makes so much sense when I think about it. I mean the way Snape treats him!'
'Wow, wow, wow!! Can I have your autograph, please Lavender,' cried Harry excitedly, thrusting his potions book at her, a look of wonder on his face. 'I've never met anyone really famous before! Wish I had a camera!'
The Slytherins were probably telling their partners something equally funny about Harry and Neville, as Hermione noticed that many of the potion drinkers were giving them really strange, shocked and amused looks.
Everyone had managed to pass the first revision task, and Snape, oddly, for once was actually looking in a tolerable mood. Harry knew why, of course, and he deliberately avoided the professor's curious stares as he mixed the second potion of the day.
It had been Harry's turn to drink the aging potion last time, which hadn't been funny, as he had unintentionally made it far too strong. Instead of looking about thirty years old like Neville, Harry's hair had turned completely white, then mostly fell out.
Even more embarrassing than losing half his teeth, though, was when he had tried sitting down. He had found out too late that his joints were stiff from arthritis and by then he had missed his stool and crashed to the floor.
The Slytherins had not teased him about Zimmer frames and incontinence pants in a few weeks, and Harry was determined not to remind them of it.
When he had finished, he glanced in the others' cauldrons. He felt a wave of relief, as Snape inspected them, and passed by without comment. His nearly looked as good as Hermiones did. But it was Hermione's turn to test.
She stole a look at Lavender as they both put several drops in their mouths.
It was an alarming sight; the class was suddenly half full of bewildered thirty year olds, all looking rather strange in their too-short robes. Some of the men were over six foot tall, and had stubble and sideburns. Harry couldn't help fixing his eyes on Hermione, though, who was chatting excitedly to Lavender.
She made a fine looking thirty-year old-
'Psst! Harry!' Neville hissed out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes widening. 'Look at Malfoy!'
Harry looked across the dungeon. Draco had his chin rested in his hands, and seemed to be gazing over in their direction with a slightly glazed expression.
'I think, by the looks of it he would quite fancy some older Hermione.' muttered Harry darkly, raising an eyebrow. 'How very, very ironic.'
Snape swept along their row of desks just then, and stopped directly in front of Hermione, blocking Malfoy's view of her. Leering, but not meeting anyone's eyes, he placed the phials of antidote on the desk.
Over the other side of the classroom, Draco had looked away scowling.
'Ugh! Should we tell her?' whispered Neville apprehensively, once Snape had moved off.
'Not unless you want to make her throw up,' remarked Harry, pulling a face. 'Though we could tease her that she has a secret admirer.'
'Who has a secret admirer?' asked Lavender curiously, catching the end of the conversation. Hermione peered round her shoulder. They were both sixteen again.
'Oh, just - somebody, in this classroom,' smirked Harry vaguely.
'But-' Lavender pouted.
'Silence, class!' came Snape's harsh call above the mutterings. 'I don't remember ever allowing you to prattle and gossip!'
As always, he got his silence. His glittering eyes scanned them all once again.
'So far, so good,' he said softly. 'The final draught as you know is extremely volatile, and should be mixed with great care. Most of you should be well past melting cauldrons, by now. However, if a certain person insists on upholding his record-'
Snape's eyes slid across to Neville, who bit his lip, yet looked even more determined than ever. 'I will deal with him accordingly, after the lesson-'
Snape sneered. Pansy, Draco and the rest of the Slytherins sniggered.
Harry and Neville ignored them all completely.
As they began the third potion, Harry noticed a change in Snape. For the first hour he had virtually ignored his most detested pupil, but now he seemed to be making up for it. To his chagrin, Harry noticed that when Hermione wasn't glancing his way, Snape was smirking at him, preventing him from slipping in any wrong ingredients. With surveillance like this, sabotage was impossible.
Now he knew how Neville must have felt.
Harry mused while slicing his fireweed carefully into strips, whether he could just make his potion disappear. He had made the glass in the zoo's snake house vanish, hadn't he? Even before he learnt he was magical.
He willed and willed, but all he managed to do was wobble and tip over a vial of Manticore tears.
This was becoming more and more ironic. Any other day he would have been ecstatic to have mixed up a potion like this. The consistency was perfect, even the colour- He frowned apprehensively at the turquoise goo. It was exactly the shade it should be.
Damn, damn, and double damn-
He glanced at Neville's cauldron. His potion didn't look as good, it was more bluish. It might not pass. Maybe he could persuade him to swap. He waved and leaned over the desk, trying to catch his attention, but Neville was concentrating too hard to notice anything.
'Potter-' came a sneering tone.
Harry looked round. Here we go-
'What exactly - is this?' Snape drawled, looking disdainfully down his crooked nose into Harry's cauldron. The Slytherins whispered and nudged each other.
'The Claw of Darkness draught, sir,' replied Harry tersely.
'Exactly,' was the snide reply. 'So, let me see- Ah, yes - five points from Gryffindor for irritating me, accidentally getting something right, and attempting to distract your classmate in order to brag about it.'
The class hushed for a moment. That was unbelievable, outrageous.
'A classic,' hissed Malfoy to his partner, sniggering. The Slytherins were nodding and smirking, clearly - as ever - impressed by their head of house's audacity.
Harry stared calmly back at his professor, his face blank and expressionless. He had practised this, because ever since that episode in Dumbledore's office, he had sworn Snape would never, ever, get any pleasure out of seeing him angry again.
Harry continued to concentrate, knowing that next to him Hermione was most likely glaring daggers at Snape, while Neville's face would have gone white with a mixture of worry and indignation.
'His heart is hammering so loudly; I am surprised the class cannot hear it. Yet outwardly, his mien tells an entirely different story. Well, well-' thought Snape, his lip curling.
As he turned smartly, and stalked off the class hung in suspense, waiting for a retort to fly from Harry's mouth. Waiting for Snape's voice to sound out the familiar, curt, 'detention, Potter!'
The retort didn't come.
The class could only presume that Potter had been struck dumb by the unfairness of it all.
'Well class,' their professor said tetchily. 'It appears that some of you may actually be beginning to use your brains. Such a great pity it took you almost six years to find them.'
His narrowing eyes returned to the faces at the Gryffindor tables. 'Seeing that I would preferably want this lesson to continue without any - unfortunate - mishaps, I suggest all testers stand this side of the classroom, and spectators move into the corner by the door.'
'This was it,' thought Harry. He couldn't sabotage it now. With no ingredients left, and no puking pastilles for emergencies. He was - as Fred and George might so eloquently say - utterly buggered.
He had asked Snape a question, what blood he had. It had been too personal; he had crossed the line. And Snape would make sure Harry would pay for it in a big way-
As the testers began to gather together at one end of the dungeon, Harry continued to stare dumbly at his lightly steaming potion.
'Go on Harry!' hissed Hermione. 'That must be the best potion you've ever made!'
'Remember I've got to do it too,' said Neville stoically. 'It doesn't really matter. If we've managed to get through six years of this, we can manage one more lesson.'
Harry smiled gratefully at them. 'Yeah,' he said quietly. He measured out the correct amount into a vial and trudged toward the group, thinking, 'But will you still be saying that after I've drunk this stuff?'
In a certain classroom deep within Hogwarts' dungeons, a certain professor was once again becoming irritable. It was Monday, and the final double lesson of the day with the sixth years. Sixth years who were making as much noise in the corridor outside his room as the Firsts, (And there were -only- twelve taking the NEWT this year.) It would always be the unfortunate outcome of mixing such houses as Gryffindor and Slytherin.
'Such a row those students make. Incessantly wittering, believing that noise is preferable over silence. Young fools.' A thin face scowled as its owner scrawled a final line of words on the parchment.
He had not been like them in his sixth year. He had preferred staying silent, and listening in to other people's conversations. He still believed far more could be learnt this way. Pity so few of the students followed this example.
__________
Harry quietly joined the back of the boisterous line of students.
'Well if it isn't no-friends Potty boy,' hissed Draco Malfoy, turning round. 'What - got bored of lurking in the cabbage patches?'
Ironically, Draco was minus the usual Crabbe and Goyle, who had unsurprisingly failed to gain high enough grades to do a NEWT in Potions.
'Go screw yourself Malfoy,' returned Harry coolly.
'Crying over Black again, were you?' Malfoy leered. He screwed up his face and rubbed his eyes, Oh, Boo-hoo, oh Mudblood, oh Weasel, somebody feel sorry for me.'
Harry smiled politely at him. 'Yeah, I was actually. I got really depressed about it. But I feel a bit better now. Thanks for asking.' Harry turned as the classroom door swung open. 'See you in potions, Malfoy.'
As Harry walked in the dungeon he smiled to himself. And to think once, he had actually let comments like that wind him up!
Snape cast a quizzical look over his students as they filtered in. He couldn't help noticing that while Malfoy had a particularly ugly scowl on his face, Potter, though looking rather pale and tired, was actually smiling faintly to himself.
Potter - smiling - in his dungeon?
Hermione had been at the front of the queue. Harry caught up with her. Ron, of course didn't take potions anymore, and was quite happy about it.
'Where have you been?' she hissed as they got out her books.'
'Finishing off Potions homework,' whispered Harry.
'But you were working on that yesterday,' she frowned at him. 'And the day before! Don't tell me you've actually decided to swot and read books?'
'I can make an effort over something if I want to, you know,' he hissed back.
Hermione stared at him, wondering what Ron would say if he found out. It had been the boys' code of honour never to try more than they had to in potions.
Harry glanced round and smiled as Neville sat next to him. Lavender Brown had also appeared next to him. They were the only four Gryffindors left taking potions; which left them in the minority - there were twice as many Slytherins.
'Quieten down!' called Snape.
Harry felt himself tense at hearing the voice. This was the first potions lesson since his suicide attempt in Snape's office, and that awful revelation about his blood. And Snape had still not taken a single point off him for it.
So if anything was going to change, it was going to change this lesson.
'Today, and over the next few weeks, due to the nearing of examinations, I have decided to set you all a series of tasks we have already covered, to aid your revision.'
Harry relaxed slightly. If he had done it before, he had a slight chance of doing better this time.
'However-' continued Snape more smoothly, 'considering that you are all NEWT students now, and have already done these tasks before, I will be expecting you all to gain no less than full marks.'
He scanned their apprehensive faces with clear distaste, his eyes glinting. 'To encourage your success, I may of course consider handing out a detention - or three - to those who fail-'
Harry tensed again, and looked down. He didn't want to witness that cold black-eyed stare this time. This lesson onwards, he was sure, would be where Snape would plot the start of his downfall.
He cast a sideways look at Neville. His performance in his Potions OWL had astonished everyone. Incredibly, it seemed as if it was mostly nerves, and not lack of abilities, which had caused him to melt cauldrons so often. And when Snape had been absent from the exam, the boy had surprised even himself. Neville Longbottom had passed his potions, and he had a good grade.
Harry noticed that although Neville looked apprehensive, he wasn't terrified anymore. After what had happened to him last summer, even Snape had to try harder to rattle him. He was more focused, more serious, and had begun to believe in himself.
The instructions had appeared on the board, and the store cupboard had unlocked. Unsurprisingly, the instructions were for the three most difficult potions of the year. Hermione had already guessed, of course, and muttered them under her breath.
They were very quick potions to brew, but required no less than pinpoint accuracy with measuring the ingredients. They were, the Concoction of Faith, the Ageing potion, and the Claw of Darkness draught. Neville kindly offered to fetch the ingredients for them all, and wandered off to join the queue.
Harry froze when he read the name of the last potion. This would have the effect of revealing all the times in your life you had been affected by things aligned with darkness. Whoever took this today would as good as share their past with the whole class.
Immediately Harry's thoughts turned to Voldemort. He scowled. Could he ever go a day now without something reminding him of that subject.?
'Your turn this time Harry,' Hermione whispered excitedly. 'Maybe this is the chance to find out what's exactly in your blood!'
Harry blinked. Of course, Snape never usually bothered with revision lessons - but this one was the exception. All because it accommodated his devious little plan!
He would want to cause Harry as much discomfort as possible in revenge for his giving him a fever. And where better to do it than in double Potions in front of a gang of Slytherins?
Pansy and Draco especially would ensure that the gossip spread fast.
And the fact that whatever 'creature's' blood was running in Snape's veins had failed to gain him popularity, Harry imagined Hogwarts once again turning on him like they had with his Parselmouth ability, whispering rumours behind his back. Could he cope with more rumours?
Harry chanced a glance at the vindictive Potions Master himself, who was sat behind his desk, then looked quickly away. That was all he needed. He knew exactly what -that- particular smirk meant.
Ron would have identified it as the smug I'm-going-to-make-you-scrub- bedpans, look. What nasty secret was Snape holing up for him?
He felt sick. But making an excuse to get out of the classroom never worked with Snape. If Harry said he was ill, he would just get sneered at and left to suffer. He really wished Ron still did potions; he always carried around one of his brothers' Skiving Snackboxes for emergencies.
But he didn't even have a single puking pastille. This left Harry with just two choices - deliberately make the potion wrongly and likely get a 'detention or three' and extra homework, or make it properly and reveal whatever attractive 'curse' he carried for the amusement of Draco Malfoy.
'Well, Harry?' Hermione was looking at him oddly. 'Wouldn't you be glad to know?'
'No,' he muttered darkly. 'Snape would enjoy it far too much.'
'But it's your turn,' she hissed. 'And I really don't fancy being petrified for a third time!'
The effects of the Basilisk stare in their second year had been temporarily recreated when Hermione had volunteered to take the potion. She had gone as rigid as a statue, and this had given the Slytherins a good opportunity to flick beetle eyes and other disgusting things at her before Snape handed round the antidote.
Harry sighed wearily. Detention it would have to be. And Hermione wouldn't let him get his potion wrong, so he would have to ruin it when she wasn't looking.
'Thanks Neville,' he smiled, as his friend returned with his arms full of ingredients.
The Concoction of Faith was the quickest to brew. Neville's concentration reached such a level that he even failed to notice Snape's half a dozen sneers in his direction, trying to scare him into making a mistake.
Half an hour later Harry's potion wasn't the ideal colour, but it would work. Neville's was passable as well. As they drank it down they waved goodbye to sanity for the next few minutes. This was because drinking Concoction of Faith would make them completely, and utterly gullible.
Lavender and Hermione were desperately trying to stifle a giggling fit - they had the boys convinced that they were both really famous actresses, that the world was flat and the sea dripped off the edge, and that Snape was gay, and madly in love with Draco Malfoy.
'I knew it! said Neville excitedly. 'It makes so much sense when I think about it. I mean the way Snape treats him!'
'Wow, wow, wow!! Can I have your autograph, please Lavender,' cried Harry excitedly, thrusting his potions book at her, a look of wonder on his face. 'I've never met anyone really famous before! Wish I had a camera!'
The Slytherins were probably telling their partners something equally funny about Harry and Neville, as Hermione noticed that many of the potion drinkers were giving them really strange, shocked and amused looks.
Everyone had managed to pass the first revision task, and Snape, oddly, for once was actually looking in a tolerable mood. Harry knew why, of course, and he deliberately avoided the professor's curious stares as he mixed the second potion of the day.
It had been Harry's turn to drink the aging potion last time, which hadn't been funny, as he had unintentionally made it far too strong. Instead of looking about thirty years old like Neville, Harry's hair had turned completely white, then mostly fell out.
Even more embarrassing than losing half his teeth, though, was when he had tried sitting down. He had found out too late that his joints were stiff from arthritis and by then he had missed his stool and crashed to the floor.
The Slytherins had not teased him about Zimmer frames and incontinence pants in a few weeks, and Harry was determined not to remind them of it.
When he had finished, he glanced in the others' cauldrons. He felt a wave of relief, as Snape inspected them, and passed by without comment. His nearly looked as good as Hermiones did. But it was Hermione's turn to test.
She stole a look at Lavender as they both put several drops in their mouths.
It was an alarming sight; the class was suddenly half full of bewildered thirty year olds, all looking rather strange in their too-short robes. Some of the men were over six foot tall, and had stubble and sideburns. Harry couldn't help fixing his eyes on Hermione, though, who was chatting excitedly to Lavender.
She made a fine looking thirty-year old-
'Psst! Harry!' Neville hissed out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes widening. 'Look at Malfoy!'
Harry looked across the dungeon. Draco had his chin rested in his hands, and seemed to be gazing over in their direction with a slightly glazed expression.
'I think, by the looks of it he would quite fancy some older Hermione.' muttered Harry darkly, raising an eyebrow. 'How very, very ironic.'
Snape swept along their row of desks just then, and stopped directly in front of Hermione, blocking Malfoy's view of her. Leering, but not meeting anyone's eyes, he placed the phials of antidote on the desk.
Over the other side of the classroom, Draco had looked away scowling.
'Ugh! Should we tell her?' whispered Neville apprehensively, once Snape had moved off.
'Not unless you want to make her throw up,' remarked Harry, pulling a face. 'Though we could tease her that she has a secret admirer.'
'Who has a secret admirer?' asked Lavender curiously, catching the end of the conversation. Hermione peered round her shoulder. They were both sixteen again.
'Oh, just - somebody, in this classroom,' smirked Harry vaguely.
'But-' Lavender pouted.
'Silence, class!' came Snape's harsh call above the mutterings. 'I don't remember ever allowing you to prattle and gossip!'
As always, he got his silence. His glittering eyes scanned them all once again.
'So far, so good,' he said softly. 'The final draught as you know is extremely volatile, and should be mixed with great care. Most of you should be well past melting cauldrons, by now. However, if a certain person insists on upholding his record-'
Snape's eyes slid across to Neville, who bit his lip, yet looked even more determined than ever. 'I will deal with him accordingly, after the lesson-'
Snape sneered. Pansy, Draco and the rest of the Slytherins sniggered.
Harry and Neville ignored them all completely.
As they began the third potion, Harry noticed a change in Snape. For the first hour he had virtually ignored his most detested pupil, but now he seemed to be making up for it. To his chagrin, Harry noticed that when Hermione wasn't glancing his way, Snape was smirking at him, preventing him from slipping in any wrong ingredients. With surveillance like this, sabotage was impossible.
Now he knew how Neville must have felt.
Harry mused while slicing his fireweed carefully into strips, whether he could just make his potion disappear. He had made the glass in the zoo's snake house vanish, hadn't he? Even before he learnt he was magical.
He willed and willed, but all he managed to do was wobble and tip over a vial of Manticore tears.
This was becoming more and more ironic. Any other day he would have been ecstatic to have mixed up a potion like this. The consistency was perfect, even the colour- He frowned apprehensively at the turquoise goo. It was exactly the shade it should be.
Damn, damn, and double damn-
He glanced at Neville's cauldron. His potion didn't look as good, it was more bluish. It might not pass. Maybe he could persuade him to swap. He waved and leaned over the desk, trying to catch his attention, but Neville was concentrating too hard to notice anything.
'Potter-' came a sneering tone.
Harry looked round. Here we go-
'What exactly - is this?' Snape drawled, looking disdainfully down his crooked nose into Harry's cauldron. The Slytherins whispered and nudged each other.
'The Claw of Darkness draught, sir,' replied Harry tersely.
'Exactly,' was the snide reply. 'So, let me see- Ah, yes - five points from Gryffindor for irritating me, accidentally getting something right, and attempting to distract your classmate in order to brag about it.'
The class hushed for a moment. That was unbelievable, outrageous.
'A classic,' hissed Malfoy to his partner, sniggering. The Slytherins were nodding and smirking, clearly - as ever - impressed by their head of house's audacity.
Harry stared calmly back at his professor, his face blank and expressionless. He had practised this, because ever since that episode in Dumbledore's office, he had sworn Snape would never, ever, get any pleasure out of seeing him angry again.
Harry continued to concentrate, knowing that next to him Hermione was most likely glaring daggers at Snape, while Neville's face would have gone white with a mixture of worry and indignation.
'His heart is hammering so loudly; I am surprised the class cannot hear it. Yet outwardly, his mien tells an entirely different story. Well, well-' thought Snape, his lip curling.
As he turned smartly, and stalked off the class hung in suspense, waiting for a retort to fly from Harry's mouth. Waiting for Snape's voice to sound out the familiar, curt, 'detention, Potter!'
The retort didn't come.
The class could only presume that Potter had been struck dumb by the unfairness of it all.
'Well class,' their professor said tetchily. 'It appears that some of you may actually be beginning to use your brains. Such a great pity it took you almost six years to find them.'
His narrowing eyes returned to the faces at the Gryffindor tables. 'Seeing that I would preferably want this lesson to continue without any - unfortunate - mishaps, I suggest all testers stand this side of the classroom, and spectators move into the corner by the door.'
'This was it,' thought Harry. He couldn't sabotage it now. With no ingredients left, and no puking pastilles for emergencies. He was - as Fred and George might so eloquently say - utterly buggered.
He had asked Snape a question, what blood he had. It had been too personal; he had crossed the line. And Snape would make sure Harry would pay for it in a big way-
As the testers began to gather together at one end of the dungeon, Harry continued to stare dumbly at his lightly steaming potion.
'Go on Harry!' hissed Hermione. 'That must be the best potion you've ever made!'
'Remember I've got to do it too,' said Neville stoically. 'It doesn't really matter. If we've managed to get through six years of this, we can manage one more lesson.'
Harry smiled gratefully at them. 'Yeah,' he said quietly. He measured out the correct amount into a vial and trudged toward the group, thinking, 'But will you still be saying that after I've drunk this stuff?'