Chapter 9: Isn't Dead too Old to Teach Potions?
SPOV
"Hey Scor, where's Al? I thought he'd have come to class with you?" Rosie asked, sitting down to my immediate right, materials already half set up in front of her. 'I had saved that seat for your cousin' I almost grumbled internally. Where was the idiot anyway? Rosie almost whacked me with her cauldron as she pulled it excitedly onto the lab counter. I had had to jerk out of the way slightly to avoid being hit.
"You know Rosie, you are much too eager for school sometimes… how did you even manage to get all that set up so fast?"
She had moved almost at light speed, a disturbing grin stuck comically to her face. "As far as Al is, I haven't the slightest idea." I checked the clock along the right wall of the classroom and tsked to myself. He was now officially late for his first class.
At that I heard the sound of a rucksack being dropped abrasively on the desk behind me. I turned to see a more than slightly flustered Al just settling into his seat. He panted, his red face a little moist from racing through the halls.
"Sorry I'm late Scor… I got a little… um… lost on the way here. Where's the teacher? He hasn't arrived yet?" Al asked, trying to hide the real reason for his delay. I looked at him sternly, almost ready to push him on it when Rosie started jabbering again. She's always
"Why isn't he here yet?" Rose mimicked, more than a little annoyed. She'd barked her complained loudly enough for the entire class to hear. Our neighbors began to whisper to each other when they realized no professor was coming.
"Are we in the wrong lab?" A Ravenclaw girl asked of Rose.
"We definitely are."
'I don't buy it' I wordlessly mouthed to Al when I saw Rose was distracted with her housemate. 'He's as likely to get lost as a blind seeker is to catch a snitch' i thought suspiciously. We were going to discuss what had happened if it was the last thing i did.
"Mother says Hogwarts has a particularly bad history with regards to Potion Masters. I wonder if they found a professor at least somewhat less than entirely stupid to replace that imbecile Slughorn. Mum told me the only teacher she found worse than Slughorn was the ghoulish Severus Snape. At least he was somewhat accomplished at the job, or so they say." Rose finished indignantly, griping a little haughtily for a first year.
"If memory serves, your Mother was an insufferable know-it-all who could barely refrain from seizing any opportunity to show off. I am pleased that I can add 'whiningly entitled' to her daughters character traits as well. 5 points from Ravenclaw." Snapped a voice from the front of the classroom. We all stared at the empty space where the voice had come from, not realizing who had spoken until…
"NO way… but portraits are never detailed enough to be able to teach."
Rose sat there mouth agape, staring directly at a portrait of Severus Snape himself.
"Well evidently you are mistaken. Tell me ms. Weasley shall we test just how willing you are to have points removed from your house on your first day of classes? Since you seem so absolutely sure of yourself this morning, why not make this an exercise?" professor Snape asked smugly from within the frame.
"How would you go about handling an unstable cauldron filled with poorly prepared Dragon Sting?"
the question took Rosie by such surprise that she froze and sputtered. She seemed wholly incapable of even speaking until i nudged her under the table.
"Um... that is... i'm not sure professor. Dragon sling is a third or fourth year potion. We don't even begin learning practical theory for that grade of brewing until the end of second year or even as late as the start of third, sir." Rosie deflected meekly.
"I'm sorry. If you can't answer the question, in addition to another 5 points, you'll be joining me all weekend long as my assistant. Since I am stuck in this portrait I'll be needing someone to read me papers and file my wares. Someone I can simultaneously berate for their incompetence as they work. I was going to have an elf help... but this seems like so much more fun."
I had to chuckle at the thought of Rose sitting in this dark room all weekend, reading papers for this grumpy man's portrait.
"Ah mr. Malfoy, since you seem so delighted with that prospect you can join her should neither of you be able to answer." The professor added rounding on me.
"Oh… erm… well I… think I might have read something about crushed asphodel root in father's study… Braxter's theory that is... but I … um…" I stumbled, flustered by the man's reproach. I knew that Braxter's theory stated that—
"—Its seems your father's lack of eloquence has been passed on to you, If perhaps not his knowledge and skill at potions. Come now first years, a nice heaping 50 points for anyone capable of answering. I'll even throw in a rare compliment. Can nobody answer?" He asked confidently, barely giving me a chance to articulate what little I knew or allowing the class a chance to think before resuming his berating diatribe.
"Well if points and flattery aren't enough motivation, perhaps a seven page long paper for the entire class on the history of dragon sting and its practical uses in the field might serve more properly as impetus to coax a reply from my cheeky first years?"
Merlin's ghost this man was dreadful. Rosie was sort of out of place for speaking ill of the professor, but in her defense she had no idea he was in the room when she'd said that or that. Who could have guess the Severus Snape would be teaching us.
APOV
I couldn't just let him pick on Rosie and Scor like that. Besides if I didn't say anything now, we were all going to get so much extra coursework on our first day that we would still be at it long after our first year had ended. I couldn't deal with Marvolo's cryptic threat in the hall, a hateful James, being a Slytherin, and extra coursework all at the same time. Scor knew the answer to this too and would have responded if Snape had only given him the chance. Why wouldn't Snape let him speak!
Oh how I hate drawing attention to myself… but I realized I had no choice but to answer…
Snape POV
"Thats a trick question." a voice squeaked from behind Draco's miniature.
"It really depends which excess ingredient catalyzed the asphodel root's interaction with the dittany. If the ground hoarfrost was in excess, then the potion would foam up into a blueish paste and you could stabilize it with approximately two teaspoons of javu jelly. If the Phoenix ash was in excess, then the potion would bubble yellow and you could merely remove the burner, close the lid of the cauldron and wait for it to settle. If the giants' nail fillings were in excess… well the potion would start spitting red sparks and it would be my firm suggestion, to run as fast and far as possible before it exploded. Although all of that depends entirely on the manner of the asphodel's preparation since, as Scor was attempting to explain, Braxter's theory claims crushed root to be more potent than its ground petals." the squeaky voice added flawlessly.
"Who said that! Stand at once!" I ordered, straining to see from the confines of my frame.
I was painted by my original self years before his death in the event that his knowledge would be required to help the Order of the Phoenix in the war against Voldemort. A portrait retains much more of the original's memories and personality should its painter and subject be one and the same. That only made seeing her eyes again that much more difficult. The boy who stood from behind Draco's son looked like a softer version of his father and grandfather, and yet had those same horrible eyes. Those perfect green orbs belonged to her. It seemed so too did this child's affinity for potions.
"..." Not a soul spoke, nor even dared to breathe as they all waited for my reply. I had scarcely noticed the class's reaction as i myself was still attempting to make sense of the boy's emerald tie and matching robes.
"That is… quite correct." I offered quietly. I never expected to see any of that self-righteous martyr's children sort into Slytherin.
"Mr. Potter, I've seen your aggressively accident prone Gryffindor brother in the headmistress's study many times last year. It would seem you are… nothing alike. Tell me your name, and how on earth you managed to win yourself that green tie."
"Um… my name… well I…" The boy started, unnerved by my severity.
"Come on, I won't call you stupid after that little display of knowledge, but I do hope I'm not wrong in assuming you know your own name?" I teased.
He didn't stare with that same defiance that his father bore before him. That alone made me believe I could tolerate his presence in my class.
"I'm Albus. Albus Severus Potter." He squeaked delicately, looking up to meet my gaze.
What did he just say?
"Severus? Really? That pompous trouble maker named one of his spawn after me? I don't know whether to be flattered or slightly repulsed. At least you seem somewhat competent." I blanched, lying on both counts.
He seemed to smile mischievously at my undervaluation of his skill. One, it was an honor that Harry had chosen to name his son after me when I had shown him nothing but misery at school. Second, 'competent' didn't come close to describing the prowess this first year possessed. The potion I had tested the class with was impossibly difficult. Half of the third or fourth years couldn't prepare it correctly and that was with a potions manual set before them. This boy was a genius.
"Sooo then... while I'm pleased at having won my house 50 points, I do hope 'somewhat competent' wasn't your idea of a compliment. I believe both were rewards for succeeding in your little test." The boy returned with a flawless Slytherin smirk. The class grew very still at Albus's statement, they were no doubt waiting to see what horrible punishment I threw at him for his rudeness.
"Fifty points as promised… and… an extra five for brazen cheek. But I warn you mr Potter—"
"—Woooo little Sev!" interrupted a replica Parkinson before I shot her a warning glare that silenced her so fast she nearly gulped down her own tongue.
"AS I was saying. I warn the rest of you, should I catch any one else trying that with me you'll all be scrubbing cauldrons for the remainder of your stay at Hogwarts. As for your compliment. I believe it should suffice as praise, that I require a one page version of said paper from everyone in the class but you. You may all thank Ms. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy for that." I finished, soliciting an enormous groan from the class.
"Sooo, no homework for me?" asked Albus smiling at his luck.
"Whatever gave you that idea? Little Sev was it? They obviously need a refresher in the history of the potion as a start. Youuuu on the other hand will be needing to write about its preparation and the practical theory behind its use. And I will be having a word with you after class about placing into second year potions. Now everyone turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four."
Massive re-editing is going into the story in addition to us editors cleaning up the new content thats being released. Please please please review if you like what you're reading.
