Hear With My Eyes, Speak With My Hands

Chapter 4

Potions and More

"Let's see… We have our normal classes today… and double potions with Slytherins." Ron looked disgusted. Harry frowned and took a moment out of his time from eating sausage and mash to write out; 'They aren't all THAT bad…'

"You have got to be kidding me, Harry! They're Slytherins! There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin!"

'But in the history book we're reading there's mention of a man who was in Gryffindor who went bad.'

Ron blinked, "Really?"

'The house we are put in is only… to show us where our strengths are. It does not mean that is WHO we are, or what we can become. Slytherins generally can be thought of as shrew and mistrusting, but I think that's because they have to seem that way sometimes. I mean if you were to base it off of 'Slytherins are Evil' then technically Gryffindors are idiot martyr's and Ravenclaws are the brains, while Hufflepuffs are the hearts.'

It took quite some time to jot that message down (luckily it was with a normal Muggle pen) and finally when he was done Ron read it and looked a bit… caught off. He wasn't sure he could fully comprehend what his friend was trying to say, but at the same time he could get the gist of it.

Not exactly sure what he could really say to that he shook his head, "I still am not looking forward to potions, Harry. I've heard horror stories from Fred and George about him."

Harry, hand cramping and stomach still half empty, decided to leave it at that. There were disadvantages at being unable to speak. Things he'd love to quickly say just couldn't be said when one had the disadvantage of not being able to speak.

Hedwig, his new snowy owl flew in right before they were ready to leave and Harry, wanting to at least give her something (seeing as he'd finished off HIS meal) snatched the last piece of bacon from Ron's plate, missing Ron's indignant, 'HEY!'.

He ripped it in half, gave the half to Ron and the other half he shredded and put in his hand. Seeing that there was a letter tied to her leg his eyes widened. He never got mail. Licking his greasy fingers clean (on the hand that wasn't holding the food), he picked up the letter and struggled to open it. It was from Hagrid asking for a visit at three o' clock. Sighing, Harry pulled out a pen and now that his left hand was free of food wiped it on his rumpled napkin and wrote back that he would be there with Ron.

'Someone needs to install a heater down here.' Harry thought to himself as he sat down at one of the tables.

Potions took place down in the dungeons, and while the trek had been sort of an adventure, the room felt a bit oppressive. Jars of God–Only–Knew–What were on shelves, in glass cabinets, and some on side tables. And none were labeled except for the ones in the glass cabinet.

Hermione sat next to Harry, Ron sat on the other side, trying to avoid the 'know – it – all'. Harry set his potions book before him as well as his notebook, and than waited, quill on table beside the inkbottle.

Professor Snape, came in from the back room, took roll call and entirely skipped Harry's name altogether it seemed. Not only that, there was no parchment or zooming quill anywhere in sight. How was he to know what Snape would be saying?

All in all, the class could have been worse. He paired them off into groups to make a potion to cure boils. Harry and Ron worked together while Neville and Seamus were beside them. Hermione was paired off with a girl from their year up in the other row.

Harry carefully read the instruction and they did the best they could, missing the praise that was being delivered to Draco Malfoy for his preparation skills. Harry didn't realize anything was wrong until the faint smell of smoke began reaching his nostrils. Something was off and it was close- -

He turned to his left and there was Neville and Seamus looking at their cauldron in horror. Their potion, which had been violet, was turning a sickly green- -

Fear stabbed itself directly into Harry's stomach as he dropped the empty glass tube and rushed forward and yanked Neville towards Seamus. Once they were close enough to Seamus he gave a final sharp pull, moving both Seamus and Neville another foot away from the cauldron. Had he waited longer, it would have been too late. The cauldron was already twisting into a melted mess of horror and clouds of green smoke were filling the air.

Snape, who had heard the sound of breaking glass turned just in time to see Mr. Potter grab the two boys and haul them away from a cauldron which- - was melting!

Students began screaming once they began to realize their shoes were being eaten away by the acidic potion and all were jumping onto their stools or tables to avoid it. Harry, Neville, and Seamus were backed up near the cabinets, safe from the potion.

But not from the Potion Professor's wrath. With a wave of his wand he wisked the potion away but left the horribly twisted cauldron where it was.

While Snape berated Neville and Seamus and correctly guessed how they had screwed up, Harry relaxed. They hadn't gotten hurt, which obviously they would have been had Harry not smelled that rather sharp tang in the air.

After Snape was done with his tirade he fixed his glare on them, particularly on Harry. How had HE known? He was a first year and wasn't even in their group…

Either he had seen what had happened and not warned them or…

"May I ask, how is it you KNEW that they had destroyed their potion, Mr. Potter? Did you know they were doing it wrong and let it happen?" he accused unfairly. Harry looked stunned. This wasn't quite the Snape he remembered from the meeting.

Harry shook his head. His pen and paper, being over by Ron he pointed to the mutated cauldron, and then to his nose and gave a helpless look.

Snape understood. His sense of smell was more than likely heightened. Loss of one sense usually resulted in the heightening of others… But still… damn his roll of playing the evil teacher.

"I'm sure, Mr. Potter." He sneered coldly, "One point will be deducted from Gryffindor for not making sure that they were making their potion properly." Harry looked flabbergasted, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Draco looked very smug. "And five points for destroying my classroom floor, Longbottom and Mr. Finnigan! Now remove that thing from my classroom." With that he turned and began ordering the rest of the class to clean up their stations.

Harry, angry at the injustice of it all gathered up his belongings and followed the class to the door.

Maybe he had been wrong about Slytherins. Maybe they were evil after all.

It was not until he had reached Hagrid's hut that he realized he'd left his notepad for writing messages, on the desk in the potions classroom.

Snape who had shut his classroom door after the last child had left gave his classroom a once over and raised an eyebrow. Where Harry Potter had been sitting was that notebook he used for writing. It was six inches wide and seven inches long. Curiously he opened it up and began flipping through the pages. Various messages were written in it. Some were rather interesting. As he flipped through he realized some were to Hagrid. Questions like, 'what's Quittich?'. Snape assumed that Harry had been unable to understand the word that had been spoken. But it was interesting reading how Harry had wrote, 'I'm not a wizard, there's no way I could be.'

But the one that had caught his attention was one of the more recent ones towards the back. It wasn't a message to anyone, nor was it written in a sloppy hand that would suggest he had been writing to someone in conversation.

And it started with, 'I don't know why, but I had the strangest nightmare… and for some reason Quirrel was in it….'

He did not like what he read after that.

There was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to grit his teeth and go ask Professor Snape to be allowed to go into the potions classroom to get the notebook. Hopefully Snape wouldn't mind too much or get too angry.

So at dinner that night, Harry slowly worked up the courage to go to the staff table. He didn't want to go at the beginning. That'd gain too much attention… Maybe… towards the end… but if he waited too long Snape would be gone. So half way through the meal Harry swallowed hard and clutched the prewritten parchment he'd made. He'd not been able to 'talk' to others because of his lack of book.

When he stood up Ron looked at him, his mouth full of bread, "Whatz wong 'arry?"

Harry held up a finger to signify, 'In a minute' and slowly made his way to the table. His left hand in the pocket of his robes, clutching the paper. He saw that Dumbledore was looking at him, politely curious but continued his conversation with Sprout and Minerva opened her mouth to ask what he needed when she realized, he'd not be able to hear. Going directly to the end of the table, eyes on the floor, he stopped directly in front of Snape's spot.

Snape who had been watching him carefully raised an eyebrow as the boy finally seemed to gather his courage and lifted his head to look Snape in the eyes. Taking a small breath Harry handed him the paper. Snape read it and raised an eyebrow before looking Harry in the eye and spoke directly to him, but slow enough for Harry to understand.

"Mr. Potter," he intoned silkily. Several of the professors were watching them out of the corner of their eyes when they weren't busy with something else, "You may come down to get your notebook from my class, but I do not wish to be inconvenienced again after this. Do you understand?" Harry nodded once, never taking his green eyes off of Snape's black ones. "You can come and get it from me at seven thirty. Not one minute later. Or you will be working through a detention to get it back, even if it is your only way of communicating. Understand?"

Harry nodded. He then signed an apology.

"I do not understand that." Snape snarled.

"He was apologizing to you, Severus." Albus translated easily, Harry didn't know this, but glanced over his shoulder when Snape's vision shifted from him to behind him.

"I see." Snape said.

"I suggest you memorize that sign Severus. For when Harry doesn't have quill and paper." Albus said softly.

Snape nodded, "You can go now, boy."

Snape nodded and Harry gestured a 'thank you' before turning and all but running to the Gryffindor table in both fear and relief. Noticing that many of the students were staring at him. He slid in between Neville and Ron and let out a breath.

"You're braver than me." Neville said to Harry after tapping his shoulder to gain his attention.

At seven thirty Harry was down in the dungeons, on the button. Detention was a rather inspiring thought for timeliness. He knocked on the door and entered. Snape was behind his desk, writing on some papers. When Harry had reached the desk he realized that it was in red ink.

Snape muttered a single word and gave Harry his book. Harry couldn't make it out simply because his head was bent over the paper, the shadows hiding his face. Harry took it and wished he could at least say, 'Thank You'. So he made a sound in his throat that he hoped sounded grateful.

His Professor glanced up at him and raised his face into the light, "You know how to speak, why don't you?" he asked a bit accusingly. Harry shook his head, eyes wide.

"Ungh." was all he could force out. He opened his book and looked at Snape and held out his hand, silently asking for the quill. Hesitantly Snape handed it to him and Harry wrote out. 'That day in the great hall was the first time I've ever done that… I don't know if I can do it again… I don't even know what sounds I'm making…'

"I see." Snape said. "Well, I suppose we will have to work on that… You are dismissed." he gestured towards the door and Harry left quickly.