Chapter 7: Outsider
Snape settled in his place at the Staff's table with a sigh. He had never had such a long introductory speech before and was half tempted to head over to his storeroom to take a swig of his strongest whiskey. And of course, the reason for this was none other than James Potter's son. The Brother of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin. Snape bared a snarky yet barely audible chuckle. He seldom laughed, and it was a foolish thing to laugh over but the irony of yesterday's proclamation had not yet faded from his mind.
"What do you find so funny, Severus," Flitwick said with a knowing smile. The Charm's Professor's remark seemed to have drawn the attention of Minerva's still growing ire.
Snape frowned at his food and said nothing.
"As amusing as I find the matter." Flitwick continued, "Your duties as a professor outweigh whatever grudge you may hold."
"I'm aware." Snape drawled, staring down at the dwarf with a harsh glare. Mood thoroughly soured from Flitwick's words and the slow realization that he had to look after a Potter for seven years. He never gave him time to respond, instead opting to take his plate and make his way back to the peaceful sanctuary of his dungeon.
Bored.
Annoyed.
Frustrated.
Harry sat at the breakfast table amidst all the harsh whispers of his housemates and the annoying glances sent his way. Blaise had begrudgingly sat with Malfoy's lot, looking towards him with an apologetic gaze. He was not yet familiar with the rules of living amongst the serpents, nor was he sure of the connections that they all had to each other. His mere presence would often lead to the devolution of conversation and any attempt to engage one of his housemates ended up in him being insulted.
He had become a Pariah.
It was something that would have concerned most people. Harry, on the other hand, came upon the realization that it would afford him more time to himself. The booming of the bell signified the end of Breakfast and the beginning of a disorderly rush towards classes. Hedged and pushed around by heavier students, Harry made a mental note to come to breakfast as early as possible from tomorrow onwards.
His first class was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. He had trudged outside the castle for a good few minutes before coming to a halt in front of several rows of intricately designed Greenhouses. They had been instructed not to use any magic until explicitly told so after a passionate speech about the importance of Herbology by Professor Sprout. Having explained their syllabus to them, Professor Sprout took them deeper into the greenhouse to conduct a practical.
The majority of students seemed to complain as their hands and clothes got muddied, it was a laborious process without magic. After planting the seed, Harry watered it with the odd brick-red solution given to them. It took barely a few seconds before the plant began to sprout and grow into a cluster of mushrooms with tiny and thin stems under egg-shaped caps.
"Perfectly done, Mr Potter," Professor Sprout said, inspecting his plant before she peered over to the rest of the class. "Magical plants are incredibly sensitive and therefore it is important to use the right amount of solution whilst irrigating them. As both Harry and Draco have so kindly demonstrated for us today." In contrast to his own, Draco's mushrooms had grown far too much and appeared to have taken on a grotesque and jagged form.
Malfoy held his tongue with an effort, no doubt opting to insult him after the lesson.
Sprout spoke for a short while about the importance of the mushrooms which were a common ingredient in medicinal potions and were often grown in physic gardens. Her rambling sermon was abruptly cut short by the class bell and Harry had once more found himself within an ocean of scurrying pupils.
"Well, that was boring," Blaise moaned as he squeezed through the crowd, "I thought it'd be more—"
"Magical?" Harry interrupted gently, "Magical plants are incredibly sensitive to magic. When exposed to the wrong spell they can release dangerous toxins that could kill you, or worse." Blaise noted the glint in Harry's eyes and chose to remain silent.
"Do you know where we're going?" Harry questioned, halting his step as the staircase detached itself from the corridor and began to move. "I was certain that Charms was on the third floor—" His eyes widened in surprise as the staircase attached itself to the third floor. It was as if the castle knew where he wanted to go.
"I guess that's that." Blaise grinned, and the two turned and began to walk up the stairs to their next class. They arrived at the class just in time and settled in at the back of the classroom to avoid drawing any attention to themselves. Professor Flitwick had begun his lecture by briefly explaining what Charms were and demonstrating some rather superfluous charms that were intended to wow them instead of being inherently useful.
"And so, as you can see there are three main attributes when it comes to casting magic," The small and energetic Professor explained, "Namely; the incantation of the spell, concentration and the wand movement required to activate the spell. These factors are essential when performing spells, get the incantation wrong and the spell might backfire or become something else altogether."
A cunning smile played upon his lips as he raised his wand, a light briefly shined from it before it flickered out of existence like a dying flame. "However, you can perform your incantation and execute your wand movement to perfection and still find that nothing happens. Can anyone guess why?"
Silence reigned within the classroom until a hand shot up into the sky. Harry smiled for a moment as he realised who it belonged to. "Yes, Miss Granger."
"Knowledge, sir. If you don't understand the spell, you can't perform it."
Professor Flitwick's nodded, "I believe you are correct, Miss Granger. Knowledge is needed for any individual to understand and use magic but it is not the main reason." Harry saw the girl's eyes scrunch up in thought, "After all, why were you able to use accidental magic. It was certainly not a result of knowledge. Wouldn't you agree, Mr Potter?"
Harry felt a dozen gazes fall upon him.
"Magic is all about intent." He said monotonously, "The clearer a person's intentions are, the more likely they are to use a spell to its fullest potential."
Professor Flitwick said with a smile, "That is correct. Ten Points to Slytherin." He raised his wand and completed the same spell as before but this time it remained intact and seemed even more powerful than before. "You see I can manipulate the light's intensity by simply thinking it and so long as I concentrate my magic, it will never fade. That is the true nature of spells."
Hermione raised her hand again, "If that's the case, how do certain spells remain functional forever."
"Hmm," Professor Flitwick mused, rubbing his jaw. "There are many aspects of magic that must be considered when creating a spell. For instance, a normal sticking charm is temporary and can be undone with a simple counter spell but the permanent variant was designed in such a manner that it cannot be undone. Both spells work in the same fashion but are used depending on whether the caster wishes for the adhesive to be temporary or permanent."
Hermione appeared satisfied with the explanation even if it was a tad bit simplified. Harry assumed that was simply because the content being discussed was far too advanced for the first years. Professor Flitwick changed the subject shortly thereafter from advanced topics to something more grounded, namely, their textbooks. The rest of the class was spent reading about basic magical theory before he set them all homework much to the chagrin of the students.
Their moans were interrupted by the class bell and they rushed off once more to find their next class, Transfiguration.
Snape watched in interest as the first years filtered into the hall for lunch, they appeared exhausted like every year before had. Their exhaustion did little to quell the noise nor their excitement, it seemed for all intents that this year were excited to learn everything that Hogwarts was willing to offer.
"I heard you already assigned the first year's homework, Filius?" Professor Sprout asked with amusement, "I'm not even sure most of them could find the library."
The half-goblin smiled, "I doubt they need it. They seem familiar enough with the theory already. I had a girl inquire about the permanency of magic."
"W-Would that be Miss Granger?" Professor Quirrell stuttered, "I-I dare say she knows enough to attend some second-year classes."
Filius nodded in agreement. "I would have liked her and Mr Potter in my house, but alas, it was not meant to be."
"P-Potter?"
"He knows about intent-driven magic," The Charms Professor replied with some excitement. "It's been a long time since a first year has been able to answer that question."
Snape had a feeling that he knew who Filius was talking about. After all, he had seen that exact same expression on the Professor's face during his first year at Hogwarts and it had been directed to none other than Lily. Most juvenile books on magical theory focused on incantation and wand movement instead of the finer mental aspects of magic. This was done purposefully of course; most children didn't have the mental discipline to block out noise and focus solely on their magic.
His gaze ran over the Slytherin table before it centred upon Harry Potter. He was alone at the edge of the table, reading from a small notebook as he ate his lunch. Either the Potter brat was showing off, or was so obsessed with learning magic to the point that little else mattered. Neither option was particularly pleasant for him to deal with.
At the very least he would find out in the afternoon.
Harry felt completely worn down by the time his final lesson came around. He had been dreading this lesson ever since he had received his timetable, especially considering that he had yet to be reprimanded for his actions last night. Worse yet, the lesson with the Gryffindors who Professor Snape was notorious for teaching harshly. He shivered as he entered the dungeon, cold and dimly lit by sparsely placed lanterns hanging from the wall. The faintly glowing jars that populated the potion dungeons shelves made it all the creepier. He slumped beside Blaize as they unpacked their cauldrons and required supplies onto their shared worktop.
Snape had not yet arrived and the class waited, muttering their expectations and opinions about what was to come.
The huge doors of the dungeons were swung open and heavy footsteps began to echo throughout the room as Professor Snape strode in. His robes billowed behind him as he walked purposefully to the front of the class. The classroom that had been rowdy and energetic moments before was now silent and still. His piercing gaze roamed across the room as he began to take the class register, reading the names on the list with a sort of lifeless tone. That is until he landed on the one name that seemed to bubble up his ire and disdain.
"Ah, yes," He said sharply, "Jaime Potter. Our new…Celebrity."
Harry wondered why he had not been given the same treatment as his brother, perhaps Snape really did have some impartiality towards Slytherins. Thankfully, Jaime made no attempt to interrupt the Professor or any remarks towards the snickering students.
Professor Snape simply continued to the bottom of the register, and, after a period of awkward and tense silence, began his introduction to Potions. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He began. He spoke in little more than a whisper, but the silence of the room ensured that they all heard him. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
He stopped for a moment, and there was a loud shuffle across the classroom as students began to reach for their parchment rolls and quills. "Potter!" Before pointing towards Jaime when both of them looked towards him, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Wormwood…Wormwood," Jaime furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to jog his memory a little, "Some kind of sleeping potion, I think."
"There are many kinds of sleeping potions, Potter. Perhaps, your brother can enlighten us."
Harry watched as the Professor turned expectantly towards him, "It's a more powerful variant of a sleeping potion, Sir. The Draught of Living Death."
"And what is the difference between the two potions?" Snape asked with a glare.
"A normal sleeping potion can be interrupted by a simple stinging hex or by jostling the person awake. It is also temporary. The Draught of Living Death can only be reversed by certain potions like the Wigginweld potion."
After a brief moment of silence, Snape nodded his head. "Correct. Ten points to Slytherin," he said somewhat begrudgingly. "And two points to Gryffindor." He continued to move on and drill the next group of students, asking where a bezoar could be found and the contents of a forgetfulness potion as well as the twelve uses of dragon blood.
After quizzing and correcting almost all of the students, he asked for them to pair up and began to write on the chalkboard. They would be brewing a potion to cure boils—or at least attempt to do so. Despite following the instructions, they all were failing and Snape took extreme pleasure in reminding them of their shortcomings.
Neville had an accident that forced him to go to the Hospital Wing and many were close to replicating it. The first students who had managed to finish brewing their potions were Daphne and Malfoy. Snape didn't congratulate them as they presented their clear vial but he did remark that it was a satisfactory attempt before giving them points for finishing early.
"That's just unfair." Blaise muttered, "Those two should never be paired together."
Harry chuckled, "I'm sure it was just a coincidence." He continued to steer his potion at a slow and deliberate pace ensuring that the horned slugs had fully dissolved before taking the cauldron off the fire. Blaise added the two porcupine quills into the cauldron, and they appeared to float at the top of the solution. Unsure of what to do, Harry sunk them into the liquid with his ladle and stirred the potion five times.
They barely had any time to bottle their potion before the class bell rang. The only people who had been allowed to leave were Daphne and Malfoy. The rest were forced to stay and present their potions to the seated Professor.
The vast majority of the class's potions were opaque and sludgy, Snape did give them constructive criticism even if it were in the form of insults. "Potter and Zabini." He stared at the vial for no longer than a few seconds, "What colour do you call this?"
Harry looked at the vial. "Purple, Sir."
"And what colour is your potion supposed to be?" Snape snarkily asked.
"Blue, Sir," Zabini said.
"So perhaps you could clarify why your potion has turned a different colour." Snape's gaze shifted between the two boys, who looked at each other with uncertainty. "This is not a cure, it's a poison. Perhaps if you had read the instructions more carefully, you would have avoided drowning the quills."
Harry found himself breathing a sigh of relief as he escaped the classroom. "At least, he didn't give us detention," Blaise said.
"He would have if he could." Harry realised that despite Snape's obvious favouritism to Slytherin students, his hatred for the Potter name outweighed any benefits he could have received. In fact, it did the opposite seemingly amplifying whatever negative feelings his housemates seemed to have.
The potion's door opened harshly, hitting the wall with a loud bang. "Bloody—" Jaime growled, "Dad was right about him."
"I told you so." Ron patted him on the back, "Could have been worse, he could have forced us to stay behind and clean his cauldrons."
"Got in trouble already, Jaime," Harry asked as he approached the two of them.
Jaime sheepishly turned towards him, "I might have made fun of his hair—Forced us to do an assignment." He gave Harry the scroll that Snape had so unceremoniously thrown their way before kicking them out of his class.
Harry whistled. "Man…He got you good. These are all very rare ingredients, you might actually have to ask mum for help."
Jaime snorted loudly. "Yeah, right. Like I'm going to admit to her that I got in trouble on the first day of school."
"Well, you could always come with me to the library," Harry offered. "I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure we can find a few books on your assignment."
Jaime glanced over at Ron, who had been strangely quiet since Harry's arrival. "You go ahead without me. I've got some stuff to take care of back in the common room."
Harry nodded slowly and left but not so quickly that he didn't hear Ron whisper some words to Jaime. It was no surprise that Zabini had also taken his leave forcing him to navigate through the maze of corridors on his own. Harry had no intention of going to the common room to listen to Draco blabber about his supposed victory in Potions. It was obvious that despite Professor Snape's lecture this morning about the unity among Slytherins, it was nothing more than an illusion, or at least a superficial one. And that was how Harry was going to treat it.
A/N: Been a while I know; I had been incredibly busy due to school and life, in general, had got in the way of me writing fanfic. But I finally got a significant break and I can begin writing again. Anyway, this chapter was meant to be longer but I decided to break it into two since I felt it flowed a little better that way.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter and until next time, Raido out.
PS- Thanks for the 1k+ follows and all the reviews since my hiatus. Keep them coming :)