A/N - Thank you so much to those who reviewed the last chapter! Your reviews made my day and I'm very glad to know that people are enjoying this story.
September 2, 1996
"Did you see the new teacher? I hope she'll…"
"Reckon Snape'll use the first-years for potions…"
"So Dean told Seamus who told Lavender who told Parvati who told me that Ron…"
The chatter the next morning at the Gryffindor table made Harry want to bang his head into his plate of bacon and eggs. Had they always been so noisy? He felt a brief moment of pity for the teachers who had to deal with the excitable first years that morning. The beginnings of a headache crept up on him, cold, spindly fingers encircling his forehead in their vise-like grip.
"Potter... Potter!"
Harry jerked his head up from where he'd propped it against his hand, blearily looking up into the pinched face of Professor McGonagall. "Professor?"
"I'm glad to see you're awake and alert for the first day of classes, Potter. I presume having your schedule would make attending those classes easier, yes?"
"Er, yes ma'am." Harry blushed.
"Excellent. Professor Dumbledore did manage to convince Professor Snape to allow you into his N.E.W.T. class. How he managed it, I do not know, but you'd be well advised to not antagonize Professor Snape."
"He starts it!" Harry protested indignantly.
"Be that as it may, please attempt to stay out of his way. If you have not yet purchased the textbook, Professor Snape does keep extras in his classroom. You'll also be taking N.E.W.T.s in Defense, Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration, correct?"
Harry nodded.
"Then here is your schedule," Professor McGonagall tapped a blank white square of paper with her wand, ink spiraling out from the tip. "I'll see you Wednesday, Potter. Do stay out of trouble."
Harry took the proffered sheet of paper, muttering his goodbyes to Professor McGonagall as she continued moving along the line of students. Glancing down at his schedule, he saw that he only had two periods today: Potions and Defense. Harry audibly groaned, not looking forward to a term of seeing Snape first thing in the morning on Mondays. The rest of his schedule looked manageable, with a liberal amount of free periods scattered throughout.
Another white card entered his field of vision, blocking his own schedule. Harry looked over at Ron, who was waving his own schedule under Harry's nose.
"Trade you?" He asked through a mouthful of sausage. Harry wrinkled his nose, switching schedules with Ron anyway. Ron's schedule was identical to Harry's, save the presence of Potions.
"You're taking Potions!" Chewed up bits of food spewed out of Ron's mouth at his loud exclamation, disgusted onlookers shifting away from the splash zone. "Mate, we just got rid of the dungeon bat! Why'd you go and sign up for two more years?"
"How'd you even get into his class?" Hermione asked, looking suspicious. "Professor Snape only takes O students."
"I got an E+ on my O.W.L., so I wrote to Professor McGonagall to see if I could take Potions since it's so close to the cutoff." Harry explained.
"And she just... let you? Professor Snape didn't object?" Hermione was looking increasingly annoyed, as if Harry had broken some cardinal rule of academia.
Harry was starting to get annoyed himself. "Yes, at least you'll have a partner in Potions now!"
Without waiting for an answer, Harry rose from the bench and hurried off down the aisle, passing Professor McGonagall and Neville discussing something about Charms on his way. Harry's stomach rumbled, prompting a brief moment of regret for having left so hastily. Harry decided against returning to the Great Hall to get some food. Lunch was not so far away, he could eat then.
Harry navigated the staircases leading back to Gryffindor Tower, even catching a glimpse of a knight on a horse in a portrait of a field that he was ninety percent sure was Sir Cadogan. The brash knight had left quite an impression on everyone who'd had to interact with him while the Fat Lady was being restored after Sirius' attack.
Sirius. Harry's heart clenched; he'd not thought of his godfather in a long time, having been too occupied with other activities. Harry passed another portrait, this one of a dashing young man with his long, black hair swept up into a low ponytail. The unknown man gave Harry a wink as he passed, looking so much like Sirius had been that Harry had to duck the portrait's gaze and hurry past.
Logically, Harry knew that mourning for a man he'd only spend the lesser part of two years with was silly. He still couldn't lift the feeling of crushing guilt that descended whenever he cast his mind back to that night in the Ministry.
"Fortem," said Harry when he approached the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady snapped her mouth shut and swung open, admitting Harry into the empty common room.
Climbing the stairs to his dorm, Harry looked at his schedule once more. Potions and Defense was all right for a Monday. Tuesday would be his busiest day of the week, with double Potions and two other classes.
Harry grabbed his school bag, shoving some spare parchment, ink pots, and quills inside. He dug through the books still packed away in his trunk, finally finding his Transfiguration text near the bottom. His Potions book was nearly added to his bag when a snore suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
Harry looked up. Ron had been at breakfast with him, as had Neville, and Seamus' bed was empty, which left...
Another snore sounded from behind the closed hangings of Dean's bed. Harry sighed and left his Potions book on top of the stack. He wrenched Dean's bed hangings apart, revealing a shirtless Dean, elemental mark on full display, splayed out and happily snoring away.
"Dean?" Harry prodded Dean's shoulder. "Dean, come on." Dean's shoulder gave a twitch, but he was still dead to the world.
"Dean. Dean. Dean!" Harry got progressively closer to Dean's ear with each call of his name. On the last one, Dean startled awake, hand nearly hitting Harry in the face. Only his Quidditch reflexes saved Harry from getting his glasses knocked off.
"Whassup?" mumbled Dean, scrubbing his face.
"We've got classes, man. You'd better get downstairs, McGonagall isn't going to be happy." Harry informed him.
Dean looked around Harry to see the empty room. "Damn it! Even Seamus got up earlier than me, the bastard."
The irritated mumbling continued as Dean grabbed his uniform and rushed into the bathroom. Harry just chuckled and grabbed his bag, ready to head to Potions.
"Thanks, mate!" Dean's voice floated out of the bathroom as Harry left the dorm. Neville and Seamus greeted Harry on their way to collect their own books.
Entering the common room, Ron could be seen lying on the couch for his post-breakfast nap. Harry decided to leave him be; he'd probably wake up in time for Defense. If not, well, that wasn't his problem.
The hallways were packed with chattering children, all of whom fell silent as Harry shouldered his way past. It was first year all over again, only now the threat of Voldemort was real and tangible. Harry rather thought the pedestal the wizarding world placed him on had to be crumbling from the number of times he'd been yanked off.
The cool drafts preceding the entrance to the dungeons were welcome in the muggy September air. Harry loosened his tie in response, descending the stairs to the dungeon bat's realm. Few red or blue ties could be seen amongst the crowd of green.
Malfoy and Zabini were already lounging against the wall outside the Potions classroom. Harry wondered whether Crabbe and Goyle had simply not gotten the O required for N.E.W.T. Potions, or had failed the O.W.L. altogether. Whatever the case may be, it was weird to see Malfoy without his ever present bookends.
Harry took up a position on the opposite wall, both parties seemingly content to ignore the other. More students joined the trio, Ernie MacMillan remaining the sole Hufflepuff. Hermione, curls already frizzing up, sidled up to Harry's side.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have gotten on you about getting into Potions."
"No, you shouldn't have," Harry agreed.
"Am I forgiven?" She asked hopefully.
Harry gave her a smile, willing to let this one go. "Yeah, you are." Hermione returned his smile and some tension went out of her shoulders.
Suddenly, the door to the Potions classroom swung open, hitting the wall with a tremendous bang. Professor Snape loomed in the entrance, trademark black robes enshrouding his lanky frame, complete with scowl. "Inside. Now." He bit out.
The assembled students filed inside the classroom in utter silence. Harry and Hermione moved to take up a station in the middle of the classroom. Malfoy and Zabini were directly in front of them, Ernie and Padma behind. Snape stood beside the chalkboard, four corked vials of potions lined up on the desk beside him.
"Welcome to N.E.W.T. Potions," Snape drawled, sarcasm heavy in every word. "If you are here, I expect perfection. The potions you will be brewing will not be forgiving of errors, and nor will I." Even Malfoy was quiet, the weight of his favourite professor's words settling like chains around his neck.
"I expect you all have purchased the textbook required for this class," said Professor Snape, slamming said textbook down on his desk, rattling the potion vials. "If, by chance, one of you imbeciles has not managed to procure a copy, two extra copies are stored," Snape flicked his wand toward a shadowy corner of the classroom, prompting the violent opening of a cupboard door, "here. Return them after you are done. They will not be available next class period."
The sound of rustling bags filled the classroom. Harry opened his own, freezing when he only saw one textbook resting at the bottom. "Shit," was his eloquent response. He looked up, hoping someone else had forgotten their textbook as well. Sure enough, Michael Corner was also looking very panicked, his partner Terry Boot not looking the slightest bit sympathetic.
"You will be brewing the Draught of Living Death today. I also expect you to write an essay identifying each of these four potions," here he gestured to the four vials on his desk, "and pick one to focus on regarding ingredient interactions. Instructions are on the board. Begin." With a final rap of his wand on the chalkboard, Snape stopped talking and the classroom filled with a flurry of motion.
"Hermione, I forgot my book," Harry whispered.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, "grab one from the cupboard then."
Harry stood up and walked over to the storage cupboard. Michael was already walking away, clutching a relatively new looking copy of the textbook. Harry peered into the gloomy depths of the cupboard. A single, rather battered looking book rested against the far wall. Resigning himself to a sub-par potion, Harry took the book and returned to his brewing station.
Hermione had already begun setting up their cauldron and lighting the flame beneath it. Harry quickly flipped through the book to find the right potion, numerous annotations flashing by in the margins. He stopped on the Draught of Living Death, one of the few pages blessedly free of mark-ups. He hurried off to collect the ingredients, leaving Hermione to finish the initial set up.
The first stage of brewing went relatively well, the duo working in companionable silence. When the potion had to be left to simmer for five minutes, Harry flipped to the next page in his textbook. Another annotation in a spidery scrawl stared up at him. Harry bent down to read what it said: crush with flat side of dagger, releases juice better than cutting. A small arrow pointed from the writing to the words "sopophorous bean" in the instructions. Curious, Harry did just that when it came time to add the sopophorous bean to the simmering potion. As soon as all the juice was squeezed out of the beans and deposited into the cauldron, the potion turned a brilliant lilac color, identical to what the textbook said it should be.
Harry gaped in amazement and hastily flipped back through the annotations he'd previously ignored. A large majority of them made alterations to the brewing instructions of various potions, others were about spells Harry had never heard of.
Hermione finally finished chopping up the valerian sprigs and gasped when she saw the potion. "Harry! How'd you do that?"
Harry just shrugged, not willing to show Hermione the treasure trove he'd just found. If third year was any indication, she would want to inspect the book and possibly take it to a professor.
"Hm," was all she said, and they continued brewing the potion without speaking again. Once they finished, Harry ladled a sample of the potion into a clean vial and corked it. Hermione cleaned up their station while Harry placed the vial on Snape's desk, doing his best to ignore Snape's vitriolic glare.
Back at his station, Harry surreptitiously slipped the book into his bag and wiped down the table. Shouldering the bag, made heavier with the weight of the stolen book, Harry and Hermione exited the classroom.
"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"The potion? No. Snape? Meaner than I've ever seen him."
"He was in a horrendously bad mood today. I wonder why?" mused Hermione. Harry could tell her exactly why, but left well enough alone.
"Defense next, yeah?" Harry said.
"Yes!" Hermione said, perking up. "The new teacher looks much more competent than Umbridge, doesn't she?"
"We'll find out in about fifteen minutes."
Three flights of stairs later, they approached the gathered Defense students in the corridor. The crowd was much larger than the Potions one had been — only twelve students had signed up for the N.E.W.T.s in that class. Harry was gratified to see a good number of D.A. members milling about.
The door to the D.A.D.A. classroom swung open silently, nearly missing Hannah Abbott. Harry followed Susan Bones inside, interested to see how a Reaper would decorate a classroom.
Harry's immediate impression was a sense of wrongness. The ambience of the room was off, as if something was fundamentally unfit. The classroom itself looked perfectly inviting; colourful tapestries hung from each wall, each depicting a battle scene in an ancient-looking art style. Floating lights had been placed above their heads at varying heights. There was a heaviness concentrated near the desk in the front of the room, though, and Harry stared at the chalk circle that had been drawn around where he thought the source of the wrongness was coming from. The desks had been pushed against the surrounding walls, and more chalk circles took up the clear semicircle that had been created.
Side discussions could be heard in every corner of the room, all wondering where the professor was. Harry slid into a desk near the door, pulling out his Defense text and a piece of parchment and quill. He tapped the end of the quill on the parchment, still staring at the circle that did not fit with the rest.
Students began settling down, all waiting for the professor to arrive. Ron came running in then, tie askew and hair in disarray. It was clear he'd just woken up and had run to make it to class on time. He sighed in relief when he saw the professor wasn't there yet and took the empty seat to Harry's left.
It happened in the blink of an eye. No invisibility cloak was removed, no spell performed. One minute Harry was staring at an empty chalk circle, the next it was occupied. The new professor stood within the circle's confines, arms crossed and a slight smile on her lips. Her robes were open, and Harry saw she was wearing leggings and a t-shirt under the formal teacher's robes, presumably for ease of movement. The conversation died down as more and more students noticed the new presence in the room.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Professor Semiramis Ramat and I'll be your teacher this year. Welcome, all, to Defense Against the Dark Arts."