The dreaded Wednesday arrived. In the afternoon the Slytherins went out to the lawns where two neat rows of broomsticks were laid out on the grass. Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, a short young witch with yellow eyes like a hawk's, was already there, as were the Gryffindors, who were each standing by a broomstick in one of the rows. The Slytherins warily took their places across from the Gryffindors, and Madam Hooch began, "This class will teach you the rudimentary skills of flying. We're running out of daylight, so let's start right away. Stick your right hand over your broom and say, UP!"
"UP!" everyone shouted. Only a few broomsticks leaped into their students' hands. Rodolphus and Bellatrix were exchanging triumphant glances, and Potter looked very pleased as he clutched his broom, but Pettigrew's was twitching on the ground and Severus' hadn't moved at all.
"Say it with conviction!" cried Madam Hooch.
Severus saw at once that that was his problem. He was terrified of being airborne—undoubtedly that much was conveyed by his shaking voice. However, seeing the smug look on Potter's face, Severus gritted his teeth and repeated more firmly, "UP!"
This time the broomstick flew up into his hand immediately, nearly knocking him over.
"Look at that, Peter, even Snape's done it," Lupin said to Pettigrew. "Try again."
"UP!" bellowed Pettigrew, and his broomstick leaped up so fast it broke his finger. "Yeow!" Pettigrew clutched his right hand in pain.
"Perhaps not so much conviction next time, Mr. Pettigrew," Madam Hooch said dryly. "Mr. Black, would you be kind enough to accompany Mr. Pettigrew to the infirmary?"
Severus was having a hard time trying not to laugh as Black led Pettigrew across the lawn toward the castle. Potter's face turned scarlet at the sight of the smirk on his face.
"Right then," called Madam Hooch, "mount your broom and kick off on the whistle!"
She tooted on her silver whistle and Severus, feeling somewhat apprehensive, swung one leg over his broomstick and kicked off from the ground—or at least tried to. His broomstick seemed to be trying to both rise into the air with the others and stay near the earth. It almost appeared to be tethered to the ground.
Severus quickly looked up at Potter, whose lips stopped moving as he smiled innocently back. Instantly Severus' broomstick floated skyward, and he glowered at Potter.
"You see, Sev, c'est facile, non?" said Rodolphus, effortlessly sidling up to him. ('It's easy, isn't it?')
"What?" Severus looked down to find himself twenty feet off the ground. Shocked, he emitted a whimper and clutched the handle of his broomstick tighter. In his haste to overcome his fear of looking stupid, he'd absolutely forgotten his fear of heights.
"There was no need to worry," Rodolphus said brightly.
"I wasn't worried!"
"Sev, you've been shaking continually for the past four days," Rodolphus said. "Still are, in fact. And look how white your knuckles are."
Madam Hooch made them practice flying back and forth and making sharp turns. Petula kept panicking and half-falling off her broomstick. When they were practicing landing, she descended too quickly and squashed herself into the ground.
"Let me guess, it's your first time on a broom as well?" Severus said dryly as he dismounted and helped her up.
"Yes," gasped Petula, struggling to her feet. "My parents… weren't fans of flying or Quidditch or anything. They wouldn't let me near a broomstick."
"With good reason!" called Potter, swooping through the air above them and laughing. "You're a klutz, Swipe!"
"Shut up, Potter!" Bellatrix snapped, darting nimbly after him. She was, Severus observed sadly, a quite brilliant flier, as she'd been using her sisters' brooms for years. Potter yelped as the twigs on the end of his broomstick kindled into flame, and put it out quickly with a series of swoops and dives.
"You really must stop doing that, Bella," Petula said plaintively as she mounted her broom again and made a wobbly takeoff. "I thought you were taking medication for your anger problem."
Bellatrix shrugged and did a loop-de-loop. "It's much more fun to let my temper go."
"Will it still be fun when you get expelled for burning down the school?" asked Severus, slowly rising into the air on his broomstick.
Severus considered it a miracle that he survived the flying lessons, and it took great effort not to shudder whenever he thought of them. Fortunately, the next day they had to brew a Depressing Draught in Potions, the complexity of which delighted and reassured Severus.
Professor Marchbanks was not so deaf as to miss the palpable hostility between her first years, and was constantly trying to resolve their differences. This was the direct opposite of Defence Against the Dark Arts, in which Professor Astaroth took a cruel pleasure in pitting them against each other. But Professor Marchbanks hoped to encourage inter-house cooperation by putting them in Gryffindor-Slytherin pairs.
Today she decided that Severus should work with Black. They eyed each other with open loathing over the bubbling cauldron as they worked.
"You've chopped the daisy roots too unevenly," Severus accused. "You're not a bloody lumberjack, you have to be delicate."
"All right, you do it if you're so clever!" Black snarled.
"Fine! You put in the toad horns then," said Severus coldly, grabbing the knife and getting to work on the daisy roots. "Mind that you only put in one and a third horns, and get them in the exact centre of the potion."
"I know, I know," Black grumbled.
"Work together as a team!" cried Professor Marchbanks. "Oh, please don't fight!" She hurried past them to settle the squabbling of Bellatrix and Lupin at the other end of the dungeon.
"Finished with the daisy roots?" Black demanded. "We haven't got much time left."
"Yes, I'm done," Severus said shortly, scraping them into the cauldron. "Have you stirred twice counterclockwise?"
"Yes! Have you got the Glumbumble fluid ready? It's in that black bottle. And make sure it hasn't turned sour or anything. You'd better check the colour. It ought to be purple."
"I know," Severus said testily, uncorking the bottle and peering in.
He drew his face back quickly, gagging. "Blecch!" The stench could be best described as someone searing chocolate and onions together in a saucepan, over a fire of burning hair. As he gagged, a wisp of purplish smoke floated into his face. Setting down the bottle, he dissolved into a furious coughing fit while Black watched in great amusement.
"Something wrong, Snape?" he enquired with a nasty grin.
Then, to Severus' horror, he felt his eyes watering. He started to say, "What's happening to me?" but the words were overtaken by a strange choking sensation that rose slowly up his throat and then burst out very suddenly as a sob. Out of nowhere came a sense of misery, of desolation, like he was reliving all the saddest moments of his life—and he began to cry.
"Oh no," he choked out through his own sudden and uncontrollable sobbing, tears streaming down his face. Then it occurred to him to check the label on the little black bottle.
'Caution: Fumes of the Glumbumble fluid contained herein may cause extreme melancholy and fits of tears and sobbing,' the label warned.
"The fumes- the fumes from the Glumbumble fluid!" He glowered at Black, whose malicious grin was blurred by tears. "You tricked me!"
"Sev?" Rodolphus asked, coming over to Severus with a look of bewilderment. "Sev, what's going on?" Severus tried to hide his tear-streaked face, but Rodolphus saw him and his perplexity was replaced by shock and fright. "Oh my God, you're crying! Stop, stop!"
"Yes, please stop blubbing, Snape!" Black said loudly, attracting the attention of the rest of the class.
"What are you playing at, Sev?" Bellatrix demanded, looking sickened.
"Severus, why are you crying?" Petula asked as she hurried towards him with a sympathetic face and a handkerchief.
"Stop trying to comfort me!" Severus tried to say, but another convulsion overtook him and he was unable to get out the words. It repelled him to see all these staring faces, some with spiteful grins, some positively revolting in their sympathy. He found the pity in Lily Evans' eyes nauseating. "I'm going to be sick," he gasped, and Rodolphus and Petula quickly backed away.
"Snape?" Professor Marchbanks hurried over. Her face fell when she saw her best student, doubled over and sobbing, cheeks slick with tears and his arms wrapped round his shaking, sore ribs. "Great galloping Gorgons, what is going on?"
"Snape here simply began bawling quite suddenly, Professor," Black said brightly, "I really have no idea why."
Severus managed to spit out vengefully, "You t-tricked- fumes- f-f-fluid-" before he was hit with a spasm of shuddering sobs that shook his ribcage painfully. "Black!" he shrieked, then grabbed Petula's handkerchief and buried his face in it.
"Now don't get worked up, Snape, it's all right," Professor Marchbanks said kindly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her hand away and lurched backwards.
"I'm n-not c-c-crying!" he shouted. The dungeon was completely still. Everyone was staring at him. A few cauldrons were boiling over without anyone noticing. "It w-w-was Black! He t-tricked me- it's the f-f-f-fumes from the Glu- the Glum- Glum-" Severus couldn't even force out the words 'Glumbumble fluid,' he was so inexplicably depressed.
"Black, is Snape telling the truth?" Professor Marchbanks demanded.
"Of course Black did no such thing," Potter put in smoothly. "Snape's just trying to get him in trouble, as usual. He's off his rocker, Professor."
"I'm not!" Severus yelled, and was alarmed by the shrill whine in his voice.
"Stop snivelling, Severus," Black hissed.
His eyes lit up. "Snivellus!"
"Yeah, Snivellus!" cried Potter, eyes sparkling with malice behind his round glasses.
All the Gryffindors began to laugh. The Slytherins looked at once outraged and horrified.
"Stop that at once!" ordered Professor Marchbanks. She pointed at Rodolphus. "Take Snape to the infirmary!"
Rodolphus desperately threw Severus' arm over his shoulders and led him away, still racked with sobs.