"In this lesson, I want you to choose one of the recipes on the board, make it, and decide whether it's a poison or an antidote," Professor Slughorn told the second year Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Please do not try to consume or convince another to consume your final solution. Don't mix the recipes up, because that would be catastrophic. Go ahead and get started." Slughorn nodded and the class rushed to pull ingredients out.
"So we're doing the one on the left, or the right one?" James asked Sirius.
"Let's go left," Sirius said, looking over the ingredients.
"Doing the easy one?" The boy behind them sneered. Severus Snape had a hooked nose, greasy hair, and dark eyes. His face was set with a particular look of triumph, a dark satisfaction at being at the higher level.
"Shove off, Snivellus," James spat at him. "Bloody eavesdropper."
"You have a problem with awareness, Potter?"
"Awareness about what you don't need to know, yeah."
"Anything else?" Snape was now cutting his roots to the proportions required for the potion on the right.
"Yeah," James and Sirius said at the same time.
"You're an ugly git who should go back to where he came from," James told him scathingly as he reread the recipe.
"You should stop acting like you're better than everyone else because you apparently are the 'most brilliant kid in Potions.'" Sirius added, then turned away from him.
"Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape, please focus! You don't have forever, as these have to simmer!" yelled Professor Slughorn.
Snape nodded then whispered in James's ear, "You think you're amazing, Potter, but you're not. You are nothing without anyone behind you."
The rest of Potions was uneventful, minus the talk of ruining Snape's work. "We should add some leech juice. I've heard that when it's used the wrong way it can cake up on your cauldron. Fancy him cleaning that," Sirius whispered spitefully half what through the hour.
"Slughorn would catch us," James replied sullenly. Snape made it through the hour with both him and his potion unscathed.
In History of Magic, Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, lecture them about goblin wars. As he droned on, much of the class fell into a drowsy silence, broken only by the occasional soft snore of another student drifting off. Remus was back after a few days in the Hospital Wing and was finding it hard to accept the fact the people were still using History of Magic as an added time for sleeping. "Why does everyone always fall asleep? Honestly, we will need to know this for exams, and-"
"Remus, we're all going to die like Binns because of boredom. Give everyone a break," Sirius whispered as he doodled on his parchment. "We're just trying to stay sane."
"People can stay sane if they listen. It's not ideal but it won't kill you…." At the end of the hour, the class was assigned an essay on the events of May, 1637. With classes out, everyone rushed to their common rooms to finish any homework they had so a stress-free weekend was possible. Of course, no weekend at Hogwarts had ever been stress-free.