The memory of that event in the common room stuck with Frisk over the next few days. Chara had felt better after a full night's sleep, even if she was pointedly avoiding Harry Potter and his friends.
Outside of the dungeon door that led to Professor Snape's potions classroom, she greeted Steven with an apology. "I'm sorry I didn't find you to help search for Dubran with us," she told him. "We didn't have a lot of extra time."
The Slytherin nodded his acceptance. "That's alright, Frisk. Just, keep me in mind if you do anything else?"
"I will," she said. "I promise." The dungeon hall grew more crowded as others from their year came down for class. "Steven," Frisk asked quietly. "Do you have any idea why the professor hates Gryffindor so much?"
Steven looked down the lines of students standing outside the dungeon door ahead of them. With the exception of Frisk and Steven, the two houses were completely segregated. They were both standing in two color coded lines, not one of the other Gryffindors talking to a single Slytherin. "Probably because of the rivalry between our houses," Steven began, but didn't get any farther before Professor Snape opened the dungeon door with a bang.
The students all filed in to the dungeon, under a shield bearing a golden gryphon on a silver field, and took their seats with the Gryffindors on Professor Snape's right, and the Slytherins to the Professor's left, leaving Frisk and Steven alone in the set of desks in the center. They were revising the swelling potion from the previous class. Frisk's potion was green and somewhat bubbly, it was a little... sludgier than she thought something called a swelling potion would be. But Steven seemed to be having just as much issues stirring it as Frisk was having, so maybe they were on the right track.
As always, directions were on the blackboard. Professor Snape slunk through the class, not so much teaching as observing. He wasn't as irritable as he had been in Frisk's first year, but he still criticized multiple of Frisk's Gryffindor classmates for what seemed to be small errors. Frisk, on the other hand, might as well have been invisible. Frisk hoped that meant she was doing well, but it could have meant that Professor Snape just liked her better than the rest. Or maybe both.
They each carefully added the three drops of spider's blood, and began to stir again. The potion lightened as she did so, and did become easier to stir. "Mr. Wilcox!" came their teacher's voice across the dungeon. "Did you carefully measure those drops?" he asked, bearing down on the Gryffindor.
"Yes sir," Walter stammered.
"I hope you did," the professor said. Frisk's stirring slowed down as she watched, earning her a poke from Steven. "Adding too much spider's blood will irreparably damage the potion, turning it deadly," and his dark eyes glittered dangerously. "Perhaps I should have you test it when it is complete." If Snape could hear Frisk's gasp, he didn't react. He simply turned and walked away.
When Frisk's potion was done, it was a very light green color, and it was about as thick as skim milk. She bottled a draught of the potion, and placed it on the professor's desk for examination. Steven's was next to hers, and very nearly the same color and consistency. There was still a few minutes left before the bell, and Professor Snape apparently didn't have more classwork for them, so Frisk took out a pen and began to work on the antidote essay.
When the bell finally rang, Frisk was intentionally slow in putting away her potion ingredients. Steven had finished with his packing a few minutes ago, and looked over to Frisk in confusion. "Would you like help?"
Frisk looked up to the teacher's desk, then at Steven. "Thanks," Frisk said. "But I want to talk to the Professor." Steven looked surprised, and instead waited patiently, as Frisk continued to pack away her dragon scales, putting the whole kit back in the store cupboard.
As the last of the other students headed out of the dungeon, Professor Snape focused on her with narrowed eyes. "Can I help you, Ms. Dreemurr, Mr. Marsh?" he asked.
Frisk had a pair of questions that she really wanted the answer to, but they were related, and so she started with the one that should have included her. She looked up at the professor, meeting his eyes. "Why do you hate Gryffindor?" she asked.
"Gryffindor is a group of hotheaded, self-righteous, bullies," the professor told her. "That you are an exception has only gotten you subjected to it, hasn't it? Or have you forgotten the way Mr. McLaggen has treated you?"
Frisk had very much not forgotten Connor. He hadn't done anything really overt since he'd earned himself the detention for what happened in the common room, but he had kept up with the minor acts of bumping into her and such. She had been determined to ignore it, but she hadn't forgotten it. She looked up at the professor with half-lidded eyes, wondering how far she should push him. "But we're not all like that, there's good people in Gryffindor too. Just like there's good people in your house. In Slytherin."
"But they are treated as the exception, Ms. Dreemurr, not the rule," his eyes flickered to Steven for a moment before turning back toward Frisk. "Just as I see calm Gryffindors who are willing to be compassionate to everyone as an exception."
Frisk had decided to go for it, "Wasn't Lily a Gryffindor? Don't you think she would want you to be better than that? To be a good example of what Slytherin could be?"
The professor stepped back as if struck, and his dark eyes narrowed even further. "You sound like the headmaster. You wish to prove that Gryffindor and Slytherin can work together, more then just as exceptions? Let's see you prove that."
"How can I..." Frisk began, baffled.
"Figure something out, Ms. Dreemurr," the potions master told her. "I'm sure you will have some idea."
"Well, okay. But why do you specifically hate Harry Potter so much?" Frisk asked. To her right, Steven made a choking a noise, and looked like he was ready to bolt. The professor, on the other hand, staggered backward, struck a second time. His dark eyes glittered at her as his mouth snapped shut. Frisk first thought she was going to face a barrage about how he was the epitome of a Gryffindor student, then wondered if he was going to say anything. He seemed to be staring Frisk right in the eyes, he looked then at Steven, and nodded to himself.
"Potter," he said finally, absently rubbing his left forearm with his right hand. "Does not appreciate the sacrifices that have been made to keep him safe. He continually neglects his schoolwork and throws himself into danger. For this, he has been coddled by the headmaster and the staff. The dark lord is not done with him, or his friends, yet. It falls to me to make sure they are ready when the time comes." Professor Snape's eyes bored into Frisk's. "They would do well to remember this. As would you and your siblings, Ms. Dreemurr. Do not think that the Dark Lord will ignore the presence of monsters."
Steven and Frisk both stared at the potions teacher, then at each other, then at the Professor Snape again. "He who must not be named is dead, isn't he, sir?" Steven asked. His voice wavered, he couldn't believe what he'd just heard any more than Frisk did. "He died when his killing curse rebounded, right?"
"No one," the professor said quietly, in a tone that was so divorced from his normal manner of speaking, that Frisk thought it almost didn't sound like Professor Snape anymore. "Would like that to be true more than me. But I do not believe it is. After all, someone put Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire, and I do not believe Potter could have done it." He snorted, and resumed his normal dry tone, "Though he has jumped in with such fervor that one would be forgiven for believing he did."
"He said thought someone was trying to kill him," Frisk said, remembering the night Harry's name came out of the goblet, "Using the tasks to cover her, or his, tracks."
"The Headmaster will not any students under his watch come to harm," the professor said. "Though I do not know what purpose such a person, whomever it was, entered Potter, and I have given it a lot of thought." The potions dungeon was silent for the next two minutes, as Frisk and Steven digested what they had heard. "If there are no more questions, about Gryffindor, Potter, or Potions, I suggest you head back to your common rooms before dinner. Nothing I have talked about this evening is to be shared, for the dark lord has at had at least one pair of ears in the school this year. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, professor," Steven and Frisk chorused. Picking up their books, they made their way out of the classroom. After leaving, Frisk pulled the heavy door closed behind them with a loud bang. Steven waited for her just before the stairs. "You know," he said, his eyes focused at a point above her, "That shield looks different each time we come down here."
Frisk looked around, not quite sure what Steven was talking about. Then she followed his gaze up to the shield above the stone door of the potions classroom. "A golden gryphon on a silver field?" she asked. "That's what was there when we came down, wasn't it?"
"It was," Steven told her. "It's always one of the house mascot animals. But, isn't it odd?" he asked. "Aren't the house colors for Gryffindor gold and red? Why is it on a silver field?"
"I'm not sure, Steven," Frisk said, now intrigued herself. "Do you remember any of the other shields?"
Steven closed his eyes for a moment. "It was the day after the Headmaster announced the challenge. A snake, I think. A silver snake, on a red and gold field. I even pointed it out." He thought for a second, looked at Frisk, and began to grin.
Frisk was utterly perplexed. "What's so funny?"
"He just said it," Steven said, still grinning. "You sounded just like the headmaster. You said Slytherins and Gryffindors could work together. That's the challenge. Not just two of us, the whole class split up, working together. I mean, it could be any one of his classes, but it'd have to be as close to everyone as it could be." His face lost its grin. "Do you really think we could convince people to try?" he asked. "If it is a challenge, we don't have that much time. Exams start in three weeks."
"Yes," Frisk said, not even taking time to think about it. "And even if it's not a challenge, it's a really good idea." She began climbing the stairs toward the great hall. "After dinner, let's meet in the library. We just need to work out how to ask."
After the brainstorming session, Frisk headed back up to the Gryffindor common room. She climbed through the portrait hole after giving the Fat Lady the password, and looked around at the various students in chairs and sitting at tables. She spotted Keith Duncan and Keith Masterson sitting together at one of the tables near the stairs to the boys' dormitory, and not with anyone else. Most importantly, Cormac was on the other side of the room.
"Hey Kevin," Frisk said, sliding into a seat next to them. "Have a second?" she asked.
Kevin put down his quill, looking up from whatever essay he was working on, looking grateful for the interruption. "Sure, what do you need, Frisk?"
Frisk had roleplayed a few different scenario with Steven in library, and she'd decided her best bet was to dive right in. She looked at Kevin with a hopeful smile and half-lidded eyes, "Would you be willing to partner with a Slytherin during our next potions class?"
"I'm sorry," Kevin said, blinking in surprise. "You want me to do what?"
"Next potions class," Frisk repeated, maintaining her smile, "Partner with one of the Slytherins. Like Simon Harrison. He's a gobstones player, just like you are."
"Why would I want to partner with a Slytherin, even if he plays gobstones?" Kevin asked, giving Frisk a look that suggested he thought her mental. "I have a potions partner, Keith." Keith looked up from his charms practice to give Frisk a dirty look.
"I didn't mean you weren't good at potions, Keith," Frisk said apologetically. "But it's one of Dumbledore's challenges." Frisk consulted the list she and Steven had come up with. "You could partner with Gregory Berke? I happen to know he's in chorus with you."
"How do you even know that's one of the challenges?" Kevin continued before Keith could respond.
"There's a changing shield above the potions door," Frisk responded. "It always has one house's signature animal, but on the colors of another. Maybe it's not one of the challenges, but for one class, we could try," Frisk said. "If it is, someone has to do it. Why not us?"
"Frisk," Keith told her, looking at the rest of the common room. "You've seen how the higher year students think about that. Why would we want to partner with someone we don't know, just to get ourselves subjected to that kind of treatment?"
Steven had anticipated that sentiment, but it didn't make Frisk any happier to hear it spoken aloud. "We can be better than that, can't we? Dumbledore expects us to be. That might even be the point, to prove we're above the pressure." They were still looking at her dubiously, so Frisk tried her one last idea, "Professor Snape doesn't think we can do it. Wouldn't you like to prove him wrong?" As Frisk hoped, that got their attention. "He thinks that Gryffindors aren't brave enough to work with Slytherin, even to the good of the school, are the exception. I think we are."
Kevin looked at Keith, then back to Frisk. "One class?"
"One class," Frisk promised. "Steven Marsh is setting things up with the Slytherin," Frisk said, mentally crossing her fingers. "Since our next class isn't until next week, we have a weekend to get everyone organized, get a chance for everyone to meet everybody, I mean really meet them."
"Okay, Frisk," Kevin said. "I'll try, once."
Keith nodded his agreement. "If it gets us to Dumbledore's award, we can try. Once."
Over the next few days, Frisk and Steven tracked down members of their year, together where they could, or by themselves at meals or in the common rooms when they couldn't. With the Gryffindors, they relied on the idea that it would somehow 'Beat Professor Snape', while Steven was able to convince the Slytherin students that they would let themselves be shown up if Gryffindor was willing to take part and they weren't.
To Frisk's surprise, there wasn't any serious attempt to stop them. Cormac made loud angry noises in the common room, only to be hovered over by prefects. They told him in no uncertain terms if he continued these rants, they'd be forced to report him to Professor McGonagall. That was enough to keep him in line.
The other likely thorn, Draco Malfoy, had been laying low. Steven had a couple of theories as to why. One, he respected Professor Snape too much to be involved in his experiment. Two, he was really more concerned with Harry Potter than members of Gryffindor in general. Third, and considered most likely, he'd just had another run in with Professor Moody and didn't want to draw any further attention to himself.
It hadn't been easy. But with every successful pairing and agreement to try increased the pressure on those who held out by just that little bit more. Just in case it was one of Dumbledore's challenges. So when potions came around again the next week, and the lines formed outside the dungeon door, it was more chaotic than usual, as everyone tried to meet the counterpart they'd chosen. In the spirit of the event, Steven and Frisk had changed partners as well. Frisk was partnering with Athena Pakenson, a haughty looking blond Slytherin. Steven had partnered up with Walter Wilcox.
Professor Snape opened the door precisely two minutes before class, and they all filed into the dungeon. But this time, instead of filing through in color coded lines, the colors alternated, making them look like some sort of out of season Christmas decoration. They fetched their cauldrons and potion kits, and spread out into the room, red and green at each table.
Through it all, Professor Snape didn't seem like he noticed a single thing out of place."Your swelling solutions were... acceptable," he drawled, focusing on each table momentarily. "As you might be aware, today we will be working on antidotes to certain uncommon poisons. Directions are on the blackboard. Have your essays out for collection, and you may begin."
Frisk and Athena began work, cordially, if more quietly than she worked with Steven. She asked the Slytherin to double check her copied instructions, then did the same for her partner. Then they got out the ingredients, premeasured, and began to work. Through it all, the professor patrolled the classroom, trading their finished essays for graded assignments, and commentary on their most recent in-class potion work.
But he was mostly silent. Frisk had grown used to his tweaks of her housemates, and this period just didn't have them. Even when he had to stop Kevin from adding too much belladona, he did so with nearly none of the venom he normally displayed.
When the bell rang, he held them up before they could depart. "There is no essay for next time. You may have this week off," he said. A gesture of his wand, and a small golden box appeared on his desk. His gaze swept the room, and landed on Frisk.
She shook her head, and pointed at Steven.
The professor raised a single eyebrow, but placed the box down in front of Frisk's normal potion partner. He opened it gently, and held up a large piece of the Hufflepuff shield. "Congratulations to you all. Well done, Mr. Marsh," he said simply, and turned to store the class's potions for later grading.
Frisk caught up with Steven on the tail end of the departing class. "That went surprisingly well," Steven told her. "Getting people like that to work together," he smiled, "Maybe I have a chance in politics after all."
They went up together to let Steven take the applause for finishing the challenge. It wasn't the very last piece they needed. But it was the last of the big pieces. There might be only two weeks until exams, but Frisk was pretty confident they'd finish.
