Chapter Three

By early morning of the first class day, Harry Potter was already dragging himself to breakfast, not ready to play the perfect hero. He had only been asleep for a couple of hours when Voldemort started torturing Peter Pettigrew. It seemed the Dark Lord was in high spirits about something but Harry had only felt the simmering anger and hatred behind that joy. And that caused him to awake to a burning scar, unableto fall back to sleep.

Once he received his class schedule, Harry fled the pitying looks from his friends and Housemates. He hurried through the corridors to his first class of the day, desperately keeping a tight hold upon the new black leather bag bumping against his back. It was a gift to himself after realizinghe would never return to the Dursleys. He hadeven goneto various stores for new, and obviously fitted, clothing.

But for reasons he couldn't explain, he wouldn't change his glasses. At least not yet. He was hoping for something to come along and permanently fix his eyesight without the hassle of returning every six months to a year for a check-up or potion or spell. If things work out the way they should. If Fate will allow me that much from Destiny.

At last Harry reached the cool dampness of the dungeons. Potions was the first on their list for morning class andhe could only hope Professor Snape would let him inside the empty classroom.

Silently, he slipped inside for a seat, thoughts settling upon the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Severus Snape. The man was a mystery. Harry had a deep respect for Snape. He knew not many could face Voldemort and lie, knowing the man suspected him of being a spy but never able to prove it and still come home alive, maybe a bit banged up but alive all the same.

Severus Snape was a very difficult Professor, hated and feared by all but the Slytherins. His cold sneer and bottomless dark glare scattered any in its path. Dressed all in black- even his billowing Professor robes were black- Snape seemed to blend intothe shadows and glide out of nowhere. Rumors spread that he was a bat Animagus but with his very pale skin there wereeven more rumors that he wasa bloodthirsty vampire. But many agreed that vampires were quite handsome and that the Professor's unkempt, greasy looks made him very unattractive, even if he still reminded them of vampirism.

Show's what little everyone knows of working with potions every minute of every day. "Ah, Mr. Potter! What, pray your worthless memory tell, are you doing in my classroom?"

Harry swallowed, staring up into the intimidating glare, voice low and tired, "Too loud." He couldn't lie to the man. Snape always seemed to know he was lying, even dared to call him out within earshot of others if Harry lied.

Severus glanced over the quiet male. He didn't blame the boy from running to the one place many avoided. He had wanted to do that many times but Albus Dumbledore always had ways of making one to do what they wouldn't. "Very well."

Harry sighed in relief as Snape vanished into the shadows outside the classroom, just moments before the arrival of dragging feet. He said nothing as his friends immediately began crowding him for answers.

And Snape helped further as he suddenly slammed the door shut, flicking his wand towards the front. "This is what you are creating. Page 74." Nothing. Then a death glare, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Everyone scrambled for the supply closet, not one ignoring the quiet, deadly tone. All but Harry. He had already withdrawna simple gray box from his bag. He silently thanked his idea of placingspells upon the bag. He had several compartments for his supplies and books; andhis bag would never tear nor feel heavy.

As the scramble began to die down, Harry quietly lit a fire beneath his cauldron. While he carefully tried his best at chopping, slicing, and mixing the potion ingredients, he felt a slight twinge through his scar. Discreetly, he looked up and over to Snape, watching as the man casually rubbed his left arm, holding his wand as if impatient for the students to finish.

Harry knew Voldemort would be calling his loyal Death Eaters to his side. He also knew there was a very high chance he would suffer painfully, ending up in Madame Pomfrey's care.

And the twinge grew steadily, pounding through his head and ruining his grasp upon reality. It was then he knew Voldemort was trying to invade his thoughts, simply to terrorize him before the fun began. And it was working as Harry desperatelytried to fight back, losing the battle.

"Harry!" All eyes turned in time to see a very pale Harry Potter collapse. One hand knocked against the unsteady cauldron, causing the bubbling liquid of an unfinished potion to cascade over a fallen body.

With quick reflexes, Severus threw up a protection shield and banishing charm against the potion. He hurried to the boy's side, using his robes to hide the blaring red scar from sight as he glanced over for any possible injuries. "Class dismissed."