Nearly two months now, Harry'd been in Hogwarts. He was beginning to reconsider his subjugation by the twins... instead of learning their secrets, he had become one of their secrets - sent as an errand boy instead of whatever they had been using before. Maybe he could... No, he couldn't even back out of this, because he wasn't one of the studious brats. He was a Carefree Gryffindor, as malicious and merry as the day is long.
Really, his potion was almost done - and that was one of the few bright spots in his life. The smells of immiscible liquids burbling together, melting stone and crushed bugs, the licks of flames under the cauldrons... Potions was a deceptively simple art - the subtleties were likely to burn you if you weren't sharp.
This wasn't even a hard potion, nevermind that it was not in any of the assigned reading. Harry'd thought it was properly something about third year or so.
Halloween was coming up soon, and Harry wanted this to be done by then. It would be the perfect time to use it.
If only he could figure out how.
He wanted to punch something, but instead, he opened up a book and began to read. Ever since he had started the potions lab, he'd taken to absconding with a book or two, if he could identify whose it was, from the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't perfect (they needed to be returned within days, generally), but Gryffindors didn't care about books when they didn't have homework, so it mostly got the job done.
Harry was improving, and he hoped by the end of the year to at least consider himself... proficient enough to stop anyone stupid enough to try something. Because, really, what 7th year student would be caught dead harassing a firstie? (Correct answer: Slytherins. But he had a plan for those too). He'd consider himself up to snuff if he could manage a third year with ease. Well, that and protect his mind. He still hadn't done anything towards Occlumency, mostly because this potion kept taking up inordinate amounts of his time.
[a/n: Da-duh-duh!]