A/N: Today's chapter is brought to you by Zarathustra, the brilliant beta, and SortingHat47, the fabulous friend. All spelling, grammatical, and punctuation errors have been expunged by those two talented ladies (at least, I hope so. They tell me that, at any rate...)

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are not mine. They belong to JKRowling. Jonathan Blotts is mine, however. Poor kid.

Chapter 23: Practical Lessons

Monday, 14 October, 1985—7:02 p.m.

"I am never going to get this," Jonathan moaned for the fourth time that night.

"You will," Remus reiterated for the fourth time.

"Why do I need to know this anyhow?" the boy huffed. "I'm just going to get a job working with animals, and they don't eat Ancient Runes."

Remus rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the knot that was forming from the tension of bending over the books for too long. "Have you ever thought about taming dragons?"

The boy blinked. "Well, of course I have, but —"

"Do you realize that most basic texts on the behaviours of Norwegian Ridgebacks and Swedish Short-Snouts are written in runes?"

"There are translations out there, surely."

"There are," Remus agreed. "But, what if the translation is faulty? What if the translator mixed up the runes, and tells you a young dragon will flame at eight months, when in actuality it flames at four months? That's quite a difference, especially if you're the one that looks and feels like a piece of toast."

"You're a sick bastard," Jonathan commented.

"You have no idea," Remus smiled wolfishly.

Friday, 25 October, 1985—6:15 p.m.

"I am never going to get this!" yelled Jonathan.

Madame Pince cast an angry glance in his direction.

Remus, however, was even angrier. He had heard that phrase one too many times. He heard it at least four times every night, and he had already heard it twice tonight. He was absolutely sick of it. It didn't help that the full moon was in a matter of days…

"No, Jonathan, you're never going to get it!" he snapped. "I sit here night after night with you, working with you, explaining things to you, and you're never going to get it. Your essays are slowly improving, you've translated several passages of runes this week with few mistakes… Yes, I can see how you're never going to get it." He stood up and flipped the Ancient Runes book closed, and tossed the Arithmancy text on top of it. "You know what? There's no point in trying to teach someone who believes they're unteachable. When you decide you're ready, you come find me. I'm done."

With that, he stalked out of the library, not bothering to look behind him to see what expression was on the boy's face.

His long legs eventually took him to the Staff Room, where he found Flitwick and Kettleburn playing a game of wizard's chess. No one else was there.

"What's happened, lad?" Kettleburn demanded, seeing the rigidity of Remus' posture and recognizing it as anger.

"That boy keeps telling himself he can't do it, when I have shown him repeatedly that he can. I'm sick of reassuring him three or four times every night that he has the ability."

"He's been telling himself he can't do it for years now," Flitwick said quietly after a moment. "It's difficult for him to change his mind about his abilities after what he's suspected about himself has been proven over and over again."

Remus stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, 'what he's suspected about himself'?"

Flitwick sent a knight to challenge a bishop. "That he's stupid, of course."

"But he's not stupid!" Remus insisted.

"No, but he has been told that by many people. Some of his friends have said it to him. Oh, I'm sure they meant it jokingly, but he already suspects it's true. Having everyone say it is like verifying it."

Remus tilted his head down, resting his chin on one long-fingered hand.

"It would be the same as you believing you're the bloodthirsty creature everyone tells you that you are," Kettleburn said, countering Flitwick's knight with a rook.

"But I am," Remus protested.

"See what I mean?" The Magical Creatures professor smiled.

Flitwick ordered his queen in the direction of Kettleburn's king. "Check."

Seeing that the game was becoming even more intense, Remus left and went walking aimlessly through the corridors. The things that Flitwick and Kettleburn had said made sense. He was dismayed, however, that he hadn't thought of these things on his own. And he couldn't blame it entirely on the coming full moon.

How was it that he had misinterpreted Jonathan's lack of self-confidence so badly? Especially — he winced — when he had done it himself? No, not about being a bloodthirsty creature; that was true, and he couldn't change that. But, there had been things he had believed about himself — until others had convinced him otherwise…

"I'm nothing but an animal," he had said.

"You're not an animal," James had instantly said in contradiction. "You just have a… a furry little problem."

Sirius had laughed loudly.

"But you don't understand," Remus had protested. "I smell things differently. I can hear what people say when they're whispering, even if I stand on the other side of the room. My senses aren't human!"

And Sirius had looked at him with a puzzled expression. "So if someone can't hear at all, or can't smell anything, does that make them not human too?"

Remus had blinked. "That makes no sense."

"Yes, it does," Sirius protested. "You're arguing that if someone smells and hears things like everyone else, then they must be human. Because you sense things stronger than we do, that makes you not human. It must work in opposites, too, right? If someone doesn't smell or hear things like a 'normal' human being, then they aren't human. Right?"

He hadn't been able to argue with Sirius' logic. Mainly because he was confused and tired, but also because it was more trouble than it was worth to debate young Mr Black on any topic, much less this one. He knew full well he'd lose that fight.

And then, more recently—his mind echoed with memories of Bill Parsons calling him "Wolf" with such scorn, caging him, drugging him—until he felt inhuman all over again. Even Libertas had called him "Wolf." And though it was with concern or gentle mockery, it still was meant to point out the difference between Remus and the people visiting the carnival. The precious illusion that his friends had created in convincing him that he was as normal as anyone could be with such a monstrous problem had been torn away viciously and with such certainty that Remus felt the rawness of it still.

Was it because of my inhuman nature that I was unable to sense Jonathan's frustration? Was it because I've let the wolf take more than I thought that I couldn't sympathize or empathize with him?

Well, there was no help for it tonight. Both he and Jonathan would sleep on it, and tomorrow would be better.

Saturday, 26 October-Monday, 28 October

It should have been better; except that when Remus tried to find Jonathan to apologize, the boy was nowhere to be found. When he finally did see Blotts at dinner, the boy hurried away when he spotted Remus coming toward him.

Angry with himself that he had possibly driven the boy away and destroyed whatever good their tutoring sessions had done, Remus decided to give up the search Saturday evening.

On Sunday, his mood was even more foul, so he spent much of the day helping Kettleburn groom the Thestrals. There was something therapeutic in working out knots and tangles in manes and tails and in brushing the skeletal bodies until they glistened like black silk.

By the time he was finished, however, he was too exhausted for dinner in the Great Hall. He did call for a house-elf to bring him some dinner, but he fell asleep before he could finish it.

On Monday, the day of the full moon, he awoke with a brain-crushing headache. He staggered to the hospital wing where Poppy gave him a potion to help with the pain. He slept on one of the hospital's cots for an hour and then decided to take himself to the Shrieking Shack early.

"With darkness falling earlier, and the moon rising earlier, that's a good idea," the matron agreed when he told her where he was going.

At lunchtime, while the students were mostly ensconced in the Great Hall, he descended into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow. By the time he made it to the Shack and let himself drop onto the dilapidated four poster bed, he was sweating and his head was pounding even worse. He was relieved that the wards that he and Moody had reworked in September would still be strong enough to hold him now. He didn't think he'd be capable of even a simple Alohomora right now.

It was then that he realized that he should have written a note of some sort to Jonathan. He groaned at his stupidity and forgetfulness. If the boy talked to him at all after this, it would be a miracle.

Tuesday, 29 October—7:41 a.m.

Someone was tugging at his arm.

No, someone was wrapping his arm with something soft but binding. The sharp, spicy smell of a strong healing unguent made his nose twitch.

"…And then you'll be as good as new." The voice that had been droning in his ear for a while now was suddenly breaking into individual words, and those words were finally gaining meaning.

He slowly opened his eyes.

"There you are," Poppy Pomfrey said with a reassuring smile. "You'll be pleasantly surprised, I think."

He lifted his head and glanced down over his form. He couldn't see much: the matron had covered him with a thick, woollen blanket and had pulled it up to his shoulders.

"The worst one is here on your arm," she continued. "And while you didn't break the skin, you're going to have a sizable bruise here." Her fingers skimmed along the side of his face with a butterfly's touch. "The other cuts and gouges are all shallow enough that they'll be healed in a day or two."

He winced at a twinge of pain from his side.

"Rib," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" She looked surprised. "I didn't think — well, you'd know if anyone did." Still, she passed her wand over him, muttering something that he knew was a diagnostic spell. "You're right," she confirmed. "Still, it's only cracked, and a little Skele-Gro will take care of that in no time."

"What time is it?" he croaked.

"Oh, it's almost time for breakfast. I thought we'd try to get you up to the hospital wing now while the hallways are clear."

Her plan was the same as when he had been a student, and it worked now as effectively as it had then. Before long, he was resting in one of the hospital wing's cots, with a screen surrounding him and offering a bit of privacy against prying eyes.

He slept for a few hours and then, rib healed and pain at a tolerable level, he hobbled back to his room for more sleep. His last thought as he snuggled beneath the blankets of his bed was one of regret that he had again forgotten to write a note to Jonathan.

7:42 p.m.

The knock startled him. He certainly hadn't been expecting guests. Everyone who would care to talk to him would know that he was more than likely sleeping, or at least resting.

He closed the book he'd been reading, using his finger to mark his spot. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, revealing someone he definitely hadn't been expecting. "Mr Lupin? May I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Remus pointed to the chair next to the bed. "I'm surprised to see you here."

The boy seemed to look everywhere but straight at Remus as he perched himself stiffly on the edge of the chair. "You did tell me to come find you when—"

Remus cut him off. "Stop before you say another word, Jonathan."

The young Ravenclaw finally looked into Remus' eyes. The werewolf saw the boy's surprise as he saw what remained of the "sizable bruise" that Pomfrey had warned Remus about, even after a bruise-healing potion. Remus didn't give him time to ask the obvious questions about where or how his tutor had gotten it.

"I wanted to come find you, actually, but then I had an accident of sorts," he offered a quick smile, trying to make it seem that whatever incident he was going to make up later had been rather silly or insignificant. "It bothered me all weekend, what I said to you and how I said it. I made a terrible mistake, Jonathan." He cleared his throat. "I lost my temper. I don't often do that, and I'm very sorry that I did it to you; especially when I was very wrong."

"No, sir, you were right. I know that now."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes." Jonathan leaned forward a little. "David and I were talking, and I told him what had happened. And he — he told me that I was stupid —"

"You're not stupid!" Remus growled.

"No, wait!" The boy said. "He said I was stupid because I let other people tell me things that I should know better than to believe. He made me tell him everything you've taught me in the past two weeks, and then he reminded me that for the first time ever, I got an O on an Ancient Runes essay. And I didn't get to tell you that Professor Snape gave me an A for that essay on hellebore that you helped me with. So," the boy paused to bite his lip, "I started realising I am doing better. And I realised that I am capable of doing this. I just need to push myself harder. And," he smiled, "I still need a little help from someone who can explain things to me in a way that I can understand it."

Remus gave the boy a genuine smile this time. "It sounds like David is a very wise person."

"Well, there's no doubt why he's in Ravenclaw," Jonathan said with a snort. "I'm not quite sure why he bothers with me —"

"Stop right there," Remus snapped.

The boy reared back, his eyes wide and startled.

Cursing himself for his sharpness, the werewolf shook his head. "Don't put yourself down. You're an intelligent person, Jonathan, and you know more about magical creatures than most seventh-years. Your biggest problem is your lack of self-confidence, not that you're stupid or not deserving of friendship."

The boy bit his lip.

Remus rubbed his forehead, wincing at the twinge from the gouge in his arm as he did. "I can tell you things that I see in you, and you're not going to believe a word of it; I know that. But I think David is right: you need to stop listening to others when they tell you you're stupid, or that you don't have the ability to do something. The more you do what you thought was impossible, the more you'll come to understand and believe in yourself." He gave a small chuckle. "It's a difficult thing, and it might take a while, but it'll happen."

"And in the meantime?" the boy asked.

"In the meantime," Remus shrugged, "we keep working."

"Speaking of working," Jonathan asked after a moment's thought, "when can we start working again? I have a paper due on how to Vanish a mouse."

"Well, if you see me at dinner in the Great Hall tomorrow, we'll meet in the library at six. If I'm not at dinner, then come here."

Jonathan smiled and stood up. "I suppose I should leave you to rest. You, er, look like you could use it."

"I daresay I do," Remus replied wryly.

The boy had his hand on the doorknob when he suddenly turned and asked the question Remus had been dreading: "What kind of accident did you have?"

Remus forced a laugh. "Honestly, Jonathan, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Thursday, 12 December—8:52 p.m.

Remus ran his long finger firmly along the last fold, then picked the parchment up and adjusted the wing on the left side. He cast a critical eye along the aeroplane's body, pinching the nose up slightly. With a slight smile of satisfaction, he gave it a toss. It sailed across the room, wobbling slightly and crashed into the wall to the immediate right of Professor Snape, who had just come in through the door.

The black eyes narrowed and the Potions Master glared at the werewolf. "Must you be such a child, Lupin?"

"Sorry, Severus." Before Snape could mutter something about his apology being insincere, Remus Accioed the plane and folded it flat. "I was just wondering if I still remembered how to —"

"Obviously you do," the other man interrupted. "I hope your curiosity is now sated so that I can enter a room without being attacked."

Filius Flitwick chuckled. "Oh, come now, Severus. It's a harmless thing."

"Sirius used to –" The pang that always came when he mentioned Sirius by name caught Remus by surprise, rendering him speechless for a moment. Flitwick and McGonagall's sympathetic glances helped to spur him on through the rest of the sentence, "He used to charm them to fire tiny chalk pellets at the younger students."

"Such a worthwhile pastime," Snape said derisively. "Now, if you've finished with your childish games, Lupin, I'd like to have a word with you."

"Have several," Remus said, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms across his chest.

The Potions Master scowled deeply. "I wondered if you had made any attempt at tutoring Blotts in Potions."

"Beyond helping him write the essays you assign? No, I haven't," Remus said.

There was a silence as Severus waited for Remus to elaborate. When it didn't happen, the dark-haired man snarled, "Do you have an idea of when you're going to attempt such a thing?"

"Severus, we both know you want me nowhere near your rooms. You'll say my teaching methods are unorthodox and shoddy and my potion-making ability deplorable. I'd be a fool to put myself or Jonathan in that situation."

"That all depends on whether your potion-making ability has improved at all since you were a student, does it not?" Severus asked softly. "And if your teaching methods really are unorthodox and shoddy."

"I hardly think you would be the best judge," Remus replied.

Snape's lip curled in a sneer, but before he could say anything, Minerva McGonagall snapped, "Gentlemen! What is it with you two, that you cannot be within each other's presence for a minute without acting like children?"

Severus pointed to the paper aeroplane. "Obviously, one of us still believes he is a child."

Remus laughed. "Better than an overgrown bat, wouldn't you say?"

"Remus!" McGonagall called sharply.

The werewolf took a deep breath. "I suppose that was out of line. I apologize, Severus."

Snape gave the Transfiguration professor a sidelong glance, and Remus knew, as surely as if the man had spoken it, that he knew Remus had apologized only because McGonagall was there. I am acting like a child. The realisation shocked him.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice muttered, "Snape deserved that, and a lot more, Moony! Don't let Minnie intimidate you — your Protego is stronger than hers. Tell him you were out of line because you didn't mean to insult bats!"

Just what I need. Sirius arguing with Snape, using me as his mouthpiece. Take the high road, Lupin.

Remus sighed. "I'll help Jonathan with Potions as much as I can, but I don't want you there while I do."

Severus drew himself up to his full height. "It is my classroom, so I should —"

"If you're going to be there, then you'll do the teaching," Remus said. "There's no point in him settling for me if you're there. But my point is, he's rather afraid of you —"

"As he should be."

Remus rolled his eyes, not caring if Severus saw. "I think most of his problems in Potions are because of that fear."

"He would not need to fear me if he would just follow the directions that I give him."

"He might follow the directions better if you weren't constantly nitpicking at every little thing he does."

"He doesn't do things in the right order, or use the right ingredients — he can't even tell the difference between chopping and slicing!"

"Then you, as his professor, had an obligation to teach him how to do it right in the first place!" yelled Remus, finally losing his last shred of patience with the other man.

Silence descended, thick and heavy, upon them all, and everyone stared at Severus, waiting for his response.

"Are you insinuating that I —"

"I'm insinuating nothing. I'm saying outright that you've had the chance to show that boy how to do things the right way and you've chosen to walk away from him, time and time again, and give him nothing but insults."

Severus' eyes were blazing angrily. "I can do nothing about his appalling way of writing essays —"

"But could you not have taken two minutes to show him what you mean by slicing or chop—"

"Those procedures were all covered in the first year."

"And when he hadn't mastered them, you should have taken some bloody initiative and —"

"I am not responsible for his inability to learn even the simplest of Potion-making skills."

In one quick, fluid move, Remus slammed his hands down on the table and shot to his feet. "You are!" he barked. "Everyone here, every professor in this school, is responsible for seeing that their students learn and master the skills that they will need — and not just for the bloody O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s — but for their life!"

"Considering his abysmal grades and performance, should you not then be taking this issue up with every professor here — not just me?" Severus asked, his hands nestled in the sleeves of his robes.

"Jonathan told me that every professor here has offered extra help or pieces of advice, except for one. Care to guess which professor hasn't?" Remus asked harshly.

"And still with the 'extra help' and 'pieces of advice,' the boy is an absolute failure." Severus suddenly put his hands on the table across from Remus' and leaned closer to the werewolf. "You forget yourself, Lupin. We are the professors here, and we do what we can for the students. If there are some that are too thick-witted to understand simple instructions, or too stupid to accomplish basic wizarding principles, then they deserve to fail or have someone like you tutor them. It is not your place to criticize my teaching or my methods. The day you get a job here, you'll be able to tell me how to run my classes and what I should do with the students. Until then, keep your snout and your bloody asinine opinions to yourself."

And with that, Severus turned and started for the door.

"Severus!"

The Potions Master disregarded the other man completely and continued on into the hallway.

Remus exhaled mightily, letting a curse mingle with the breath, and then rushed to the door.

"Snape," he called after the Slytherin.

This time, the man stopped, though he didn't turn.

"Since you're so concerned, I'll bring Jonathan down to your classroom for tutoring. We'll meet there every night until he leaves for the Christmas holidays. You won't need to be there."

The dark-haired man turned and snarled at Remus: "Don't worry. I won't be."

Inside the room, Flitwick and McGonagall stared at each other, not sure whether they should be horrified at what had happened or merely relieved that it was all over.

"Merlin help anyone who gets in his way tonight," Flitwick said.

"I doubt Remus will be pleasant company either," McGonagall commented. She got up and went to where the younger man had been sitting and picked up the forgotten parchment plane. "Could you imagine if Remus were actually fortunate enough to teach here?"

Flitwick began to chuckle, and then burst into high-pitched, but hearty, laughter. "Scenes like this every night? We could sell tickets!"

"They'd both be dead by the end of the year," the Transfiguration professor said ruefully, staring at the parchment in her hands. Slowly she began to unfold it, her eyes scanning the words as they became visible.

"Do you think we should tell Albus about this?" Filius asked suddenly.

McGonagall said nothing.

"Minerva?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I wouldn't bother him with it." She began to fold the parchment back into the shape that Remus had made of it. "What could he do, really? If he chastises either one or the other, it will only cause worse feelings between the two."

Flitwick noticed that, although she was talking to him, her attention was still focused on the parchment. "What is it, Minerva?"

The woman looked up at him, and there was sadness in her eyes. "Remus had applied to a small school in France." She held up the paper. "He didn't get the position."

Flitwick shook his head. "They'll never know what they're missing."

"And that's always the problem, isn't it?" McGonagall mused.

Flitwick suddenly chuckled. "Well, if Remus doesn't have a job to go to, he'll have to stay on here, right? We'll certainly enjoy that."

"It will probably give Severus an ulcer," McGonagall said, tucking the letter in a pocket to give to Remus at another time.

"Oh, at the very least," Flitwick agreed. His eyes twinkled as he slyly asked, "How long until they hex each other? And who throws the first curse?"

Minerva looked at him, and her eyes narrowed. "You don't think for a minute that I'd bet against a Gryffindor, do you? Five Galleons says Severus throws the first spell."

Friday, 13 December—6:00 p.m.

"Are you sure that Professor Snape won't come in here?" the boy asked for the second time.

"He won't," Remus verified. Then he tilted his head slightly to the side and said thoughtfully: "He's probably afraid I'm going to encourage you to blow this room to bits, so he's probably in a spot as far away as he possibly could be at this moment."

Jonathan grinned. "Are we going to blow the room to bits?"

"Not tonight," Remus said with a rather wicked gleam in his eye. "But we do need to get to work." He had carried a box to the dungeons and now opened it, watching the curiosity grow on Jonathan's face. "Tonight, we are going to learn the things that you will need to do well in Potions. And if everything goes well, we may never need to have another Potions tutoring session."

"How do you figure that?" the Ravenclaw asked, clearly astounded.

"Because Professor Snape has declared that much of your problem is with basic preparation techniques. So…" Remus reached into the box to retrieve the first item for the lesson.

"It's a carrot," Jonathan said, blinking in surprise.

"And you are going to learn how to slice and how to sliver using this fine specimen of the vegetable family."

"You're serious."

Remus felt his eyes glaze over for the barest of seconds. No, I'm not Sirius; I'm Remus. "Yes," he managed to say. "I am serious. Very much so."

"But…" Jonathan stopped, not knowing what to say.

"Potions are amazing things, Jonathan: they can heal; they can kill. They can bring you luck or fame. They can create beauty with one swallow and then take it all away with the next. Never underestimate what a potion can do."

The Ravenclaw stared at him. "Wow. I'd never thought of all that."

"Of course not," Remus said with a snort. "No one does." He stopped, looked up toward the ceiling, and muttered, "Well, with the exception of Severus Snape, that is. But the point is, a potion can be made more effective, less effective, even fatal by the way its ingredients are handled. Can you tell me the difference between slicing and slivering?"

Before an hour was up, Jonathan had a decent working understanding of the basic preparation techniques, and he and Remus were munching on the sliced, slivered, diced, chopped, and cubed vegetables that littered their working area.

"You should go to the kitchens every night for a while and get some more vegetables to practice on," Remus advised. "You know how to do these things now, but you need to learn better control of the knife and how to keep the pieces of uniform size and shape."

Jonathan agreed and popped another piece of raw potato in his mouth.

"And now," said Remus, sitting down on the nearest stool and motioning for Jonathan to sit as well, "I'm going to give you the next lesson in doing well in Potions."

The boy waited silently. Or as silently as he could, considering he was chewing a potato.

Remus looked right into his eyes then said quietly and firmly, "Severus Snape can be a mean, vindictive bastard, and you have to learn to ignore his comments and remarks and focus on what you're doing."

Jonathan's mouth dropped open.

"I'm not that interested in seeing chewed food, Jonathan, so if you'd please… Now, I'm not telling you anything that you don't know, really, and before you think I'm telling you it's all right to be disrespectful, I'm not. Snape knows more about potions and potion making than I ever will. He deserves respect for that. Now, do I agree with how he teaches? No. Have we had our differences? Yes. There are things you don't know and you're better off not knowing. Keep in mind, however, that before long, I'll be leaving, and you'll still have two more years of classes with the man."

Jonathan's face had altered greatly during Remus' comments, going from stunned to positively gleeful, then from chagrin to resignation.

"So, my advice is to think about what he's saying when he insults you. If it's about the potion, believe that it's a legitimate complaint. If he tells you something along the lines of 'I've never seen that colour before,' you know you're close, you just added too much or too little of whatever made it that colour. If he says something personal, such as, 'Blotts, you're an imbecile,' then, for Merlin's sake, ignore him. He's trying to rattle you. He knows you fear him –"

"I don't —"

"Yes, you do," Remus said firmly, interrupting him. "Call it what it is and face it. That will give you more confidence when dealing with him."

Jonathan sat back and grabbed a piece of carrot and munched on it thoughtfully as Remus continued.

"If Snape tells you he's never seen anything like what you've done, then, you should consider yourself lucky that you've proven to him that there are still more ways that a potion can be ruined."

The boy laughed.

Remus smiled. "So, the point is: if he directly insults the potion, figure out if there's something that you can do to counteract it. If he insults you directly, then let it go, and concentrate on not missing the next step."

"How do I counteract what's gone wrong?" Jonathan asked. "I'm not that good at Potions to know what each ingredient does precisely."

"It comes with practice and experience," Remus told him. "And unfortunately, you've found my weak spot. I'm not that good at it. I can tell you what the things do, and sometimes, on a good day, how to counteract them. But when it comes to knowing amounts or how many times you stir it and such, well, I'm more or less useless. In other words, find yourself a good Potions partner."

Jonathan again laughed. "Should I take notes? 'Get a good Potions partner and ignore the Professor's nasty comments.'"

"Sounds like you've mastered the lesson, actually," Remus said smugly. "Well done."

Thanks to all of you who review and those who have put this story on alert or into their favorites. I appreciate it greatly!
Remember: a review goes a long way to soothing the nerves of a kindergarten teacher--especially after she has just found out that one of her students threatened to 'bite the eyes out' of another kindergartner... (You don't suppose he's part werewolf, do you?)