Chapter 7: The Potion Man
"The chemists are a strange class of mortals, impelled by an almost insane impulse to seek their pleasures amid smoke and vapour, soot and flame, poisons and poverty; yet among all these evils I seem to live so sweetly that may I die if I were to change places with the Persian king."
-Johann Joachim Becher, Physica subterranean (1667)
Harry was awoken the next morning by Wayne Hopkins throwing a pillow at him. . "Wha' ya' do 'hat for?" he asked, in a very sleepy voice as he rubbed his bleary eyes.
"Practice," Wayne said. "Have to get ready for Quidditch, I'm a Chaser."
"First years aren't allowed to play on house teams," Ernie said from across the room.
"I know, that's why I'm starting training now," Wayne said. "Besides, don't you smell it?"
"Smell what?" Harry asked, pushing himself up and sniffing. He didn't smell anything.
Wayne grinned madly. "Breakfast."
The balled mass of covers and blankets that was curled up in the center of the bed to Harry's right twitched and a moment later Zevon Moon's head poked up like a periscope out of deep water. "Food?" he asked.
"Food," Wayne repeated.
Zevon's sheets went flying every which way and there was a mad scramble for the door.
"I think I'm going to dislike mornings," Harry said, burrowing back under the covers.
The brass alarm clock went off.
"Correction: I hate mornings," he muttered darkly.
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Harry found a seat next to Justin at the Hufflepuff table with Ravenclaw and Slytherin behind him, and facing Gryffindor table where Ron Weasley had moved an entire serving platter in front of himself. Hermione had arrived with a rather large book and was studying it while eating her eggs, and Harry wondered when she'd had time to visit the library because he didn't recognize it as any of their assigned textbooks.
Harry turned in his seat to find that most of the Ravenclaws had brought reading material to breakfast, while the Slytherins seemed content to trade surly looks with each other and everyone else around them. After a moment he turned back to where Ron and Seamus were loudly arguing the merits of football versus quidditch and had managed to drag Justin and Ernie into what sounded like a cross-house debate on who'd win if West Ham were to go up against the Chudley Cannons. The current polls from the rest of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables seemed to favor West Ham, no matter what sport they were playing. At the same time as the sport-debate, Parvati and another girl seemed to be immersed in a conversation about some magazine that Harry had never heard of and had dragged in Megan Jones—a half blood—so that they had a third perspective.
Professor McGonagall came by with their class schedules and Harry examined his while digging into his breakfast. He quickly noticed that while some classes were single, others were double which meant that they lasted twice as long and were held with another house. Some classes (notably Astronomy and Potions) were only double classes, while History was the only class that did not have a double block. The rest seemed to be a mix of the two, having long double-classes in the morning, and shorter single-classes in the afternoon (save for when they were switched around with the long classes in the afternoon and the short ones in the morning) except for Astronomy which we held Thursday nights. They were paired with Gryffindor in Herbology and Slytherin for Charms and Astronomy. Double Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration sessions were held with the Ravenclaws.
Harry looked over at the Slytherin table again, but didn't see Allie. He had thought of inviting her over, but her absence conveniently decided him against it. He didn't know if it was against the rules or not, but it didn't look like anyone else was sitting at another house's table and the sport debate and magazine discussion aside there were very few conversations going on between peoples of different houses. It didn't bode well for inter-house friendships, he thought, hoping he hadn't annoyed his new Headmaster only to find that he wouldn't be able to continue his friendship after all.
"We have double Transfiguration first," Hermione said loudly enough to be heard from the Gryffindor table. "I do hope you're all prepared. I picked up some books at the library…"
Harry double-checked his own class list, expecting to find Charms at the top.
It was.
It also wasn't until tomorrow as the first had fallen on a Saturday.
"When did you have time to go to the library?" Ron asked.
"Before breakfast, of course," Hermione said as Harry glanced back up from his schedule.
"Oh, of course," Ron said.
"Well, I'm going to go," Hermione said, packing up her book and stuffing it into an over-filled book bag. She staggered slightly as she hoisted it onto her back.
"Got enough books there?" Parvati asked.
"Well, I didn't know what classes we were going to have, now did I?" Hermione asked.
Harry snorted, a second year had been waiting in the common room to tell the first years that Charms was always the first class that first year Hufflepuffs had. It made sense that the Gryffindor first years always started with the same class as well. So why didn't the other first year know what her first class would be?
As it was, he had both the Book of Spells, Grade 1 and his Transfiguration book in his bag. They looked like the most exciting of his books and the weather looked nice, and he had been anticipating exploring the grounds and maybe doing a little reading just to prepare for classes.
Parvati snagged the last sausage from the platter near her before Ron could get to it. "Do you even know how to get there?"
Hermione hesitated, "Do you?"
"Nope," Parvati said cheerfully. "It's why I'm not going now. Got a whole day to find it."
"But…classes, we don't want to be late," Hermione said, and Harry watched as she bit her lip and looked down the table. "Maybe we should ask a Prefect for—"
"Ask, shmask," Parvati waved it off. "We can find it perfectly well on our own."
"But…"
"You do realize we don't have any classes until tomorrow, don't you?" Parvati asked.
"We…oh," the other girl looked crestfallen. "Well, I suppose we can still find out where the classrooms are."
"Hey, Cedric?" Harry asked as he stood up
The fourth year glanced at him from up the table.
"How do you get to Transfiguration?" Harry asked.
"Huh, usually our firsties get Charms first," the older boy said.
"We do, but my friends have Transfiguration," Harry explained. "They want to find the classrooms for tomorrow."
Cedric glanced at the indicated Gryffindors, then shrugged and briefly described how to find the Transfiguration corridor. Hermione pulled out a fresh scroll of parchment and sat down to copy out a brief map.
Cedric grinned, "Don't put too much faith in maps. They aren't good for long. Hogwarts moves things around too much."
Hermione did not seem at all happy to find out that her map would quickly become useless if it wasn't already. "Right then, let's go," she said briskly.
"Already?" Parvati asked.
"You wanted to spend the whole day searching for it," Hermione sniffed.
"Yeah, 'cause I thought I'd have some fun exploring while I searched," the other girl said.
"Fine, we'll go," Ron said loudly as he stood up. "Let's stop by the tower first though."
"What? Why?" Hermione asked.
"Well, we didn't know what classes we were going have, now did we?" Parvati asked sweetly.
Hermione huffed, whirled around, and strode briskly from the hall.
"I don't think she likes you," Parvati told Ron.
"Me?" Ron asked. "What did I do?"
"We might have to rethink our study plans."
Harry turned to find Padma standing behind him and staring disapprovingly at the retreating Gryffindors.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"Granger," she stated. "That girl already found the Library. When did she have time to do that?"
"This morning apparently," Harry said.
There was a howl of outrage, and the two turned to look at Slytherin table. Everyone who had been seated there now had red and gold-striped hair. Malfoy said something about looking like a weasel. Allie was there as well—though her empty plate suggested she had only just arrived. She twisted only lock of hair into a coil around a finger and peered at it closely for a moment, then gave the Weasley twins a distasteful glance, stood, and left the hall.
"How was your night?" Harry asked, turning back to Padma.
"Lovely," Padma said. "I have to find out if I can take my bed home with me. I've never had hangings before and my bed is so bouncy I bet I could clear ten feet if I got a good running start. Where are you heading for tomorrow morning?"
"Double Charms," Justin said.
"Padma, Justin Finch-Fletchy," Harry introduced them. "Justin, Padma Patil of Ravenclaw."
"Charmed," Justin said.
"Not for another day," Padma replied with a grin. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, a second-year told us that first-year Hufflepuffs always have Charms as first class," Justin said.
"Really?" she cocked her head.
"You didn't grab every book and your potion supplies, did you?" Harry asked. "I grabbed Transfiguration and Charms in case I got a chance to do a little reading."
She shook her head, "Astronomy obviously has to be at night. I brought books for Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and History."
"Not Potions?"
"Potions, right away in the morning?" Padma asked. "Nobody is that cruel."
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Cedric's map was still good on Monday, but by the next morning the staircase that had taken Harry from the second floor up to the fifth instead let out in the dungeons, and going back down let out in the second right-hand side corridor on the third floor instead. Even when Hogwarts wasn't rearranging itself to some unspoken whim, finding classes was difficult. There were a hundred and forty two staircases in Hogwarts—by Harry's count at the end of his first week—some broad and sweeping, others narrow and rickety; some with only one landing, others with landings on several floors; a few you could ascend to a floor below the one you had started on, or by walking down them you could finish on an upper floor, some led to different places on Friday (or perhaps led to somewhere else the rest of the week and Friday was the one day it went where it should), some had steps that vanished half-way up that you had to skip over or be stuck in until someone helped you out. At least three of the staircases were 'one direction only' and you'd find yourself walking into a wall if you tried to go back up (or down) them, even if you were halfway between floors.
And after you were familiar with the stairs, Harry found, there were the doors. Doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely or tickled them in the right places, and doors that you couldn't see at all because they were pretending to be walls. There were doors hidden behind paintings, at least two painting that were hidden behind doors, doors that required passwords and doors that wouldn't open until you answered a riddle or told it a joke, and some doors that weren't doors at all but walls that were pretending to be doors. Nothing in the castle stayed where it should, and it wasn't just the walls and stairs and corridors. The people in the paintings were constantly coming and going to visit friends, and Harry was certain that the suits of armor and statues could walk.
The ghosts weren't a help either. The Fat Friar was always happy to help a student find a class, but he was always describing yesterday's routes and they often didn't match up. Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor Ghost, was more helpful but you had to tolerate his bemoaning of poorly trained headsmen and improperly sharpened axes unless you were in Gryffindor and had already heard all of his many speeches on the subjects. The Grey Lady of the Tower of Ivory and Silver (as Ravenclaw Tower was called by some) ignored pretty much everyone, and nobody, except maybe Allie, had the courage to ask the Bloody Baron for directions. Even worse than the frequently scary Slytherin ghost was Peeves the Poltergeist who was, as Eric Bryce had promised, worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class.
Once you had learned to navigate Hogwarts' confusing internal geography, there was still the caretaker. Harry had only run into Mr. Filch and his scrawny cat Mrs. Norris once, but that once had been more than enough. He'd found himself in a warm, damp, and extremely cramped office, filled with a desk, two chairs (one of which was so uncomfortable Harry was sure it was charmed that way), and a seemingly endless number of filing cabinets. There was barely room enough to breathe, much less walk, and Harry had been subjected to Filch managing to do both while he reminisced of the Old Days when he was still allowed to torture the students while he showed off his collection of branding irons until the Fat Friar popped in through the floor—and Harry's legs—to tell the caretaker that Harry was needed in herbology.
And once you found them there were the classes themselves. Every Thursday at midnight the Hufflepuffs had to study the skies through their brass telescopes and memorize the stars and movements of planets. Herbology was taught three times a week by a dumpy little witch named Professor Sprout in a series of greenhouses behind the castle, and learned to take care of all manner of strange plants and fungi and what they could be used for.
History of Magic was easily the most boring class. In fact it was about as dull as anything dealing with magic could be. It was even duller than his fourth year primary teacher who never managed to speak above a soft drone. The Professor was a ghost, apparently the only one on Staff. Binns had taught History of Magic for as long as living memory could recall, then had died one day in the staff room and his spirit, trapped in the mind-numbing routine it had followed in life, had gotten up as a ghost and continued teaching it. It was possible, Harry thought, that one of the other ghosts could remember a time when someone else taught it, but it didn't seem likely. Rumor had it that he'd actually taught the four Founders history, and it was common belief that he saw anything that happened after 1576 was 'recent' and thus not worth talking about in class. Aside from the fact that the class was dreadfully boring Harry also noticed that, like his fourth-year primary teacher, Binns had a habit of talking in a dull monotone that was better at putting his students to sleep—or at least so the seventh years swore—than any sleeping potion. Those that managed to stay awake scrambled to scrawl down dates and names and got Magmog the Mostly Mad mixed up with Sogsag the Slightly Sane.
Charms was taught by a tiny little man called Professor Flitwick who had to stand on a pile of thick books to see over his desk. On the first day he started by taking roll, and when he got to Harry's name he gave an excited little squeak and toppled out of sight.
Harry quickly found his initial impression of McGonagall had been quite right. She wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever she gave them a talking to the moment the bell rang. "Transfiguration is some of the most useful, complex, and dangerous, magic that you will learn in Hogwarts. Anyone messing about in my class will leave, and will not return."
Then she transfigured her desk into a pig and back. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but it quickly became apparent that they wouldn't be changing furniture into animals anytime soon. A long series of complicated-looking notes followed, but unlike in Binns' class Harry had no problems staying awake and copying them down. Then matches were passed about and they were set to transfiguring them into needles.
By the end of the lesson several people had managed to make their matches pointy. Harry hadn't, but his had taken on a silvery color. Only Padma managed to do both but it lacked an eye for thread. McGonagall gave her a rare smile as she showed it to the class.
Friday was a big day for Harry. It was the first day that he and his dorm-mates had managed to find their way down to breakfast without getting lost or having to ask for directions. He wasn't particularly surprised to find Allie already sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Several of the other Hufflepuff's had looked askance at her presence, but when Harry made it clear she was his friend, and that she wasn't going to cause any trouble, they'd shrugged their shoulders and more or less accepted that she'd join them for breakfast. Privately Harry was grateful she did otherwise he'd have hardly had a chance to see her outside of Charms.
They were just sitting down to breakfast when conversation in the Hall stopped. The castle held its breath as the Slytherins came in and sat down in one solid block. There had been a number of practical jokes already, and while the initial blitz seemed to target students almost at random, for the last two days Slytherin house had borne the brunt of the pranks. Two days before they had come in with their robes glowing an eye-watering bright orange striped with a dull pea green, and yesterday they'd sat down for breakfast only to spend the rest of the day talking, and taking notes, backwards. That had actually been dangerous as spells came out backwards as well and a number of sixth years had to go to the hospital wings after a weather moderating charm instead summoned a miniature tornado that had ransacked half of the Charms corridor and caused classes to be delayed all afternoon. After a moment when nothing happened, Hogwarts seemed to sigh and noise in the Great Hall returned as the other students resumed conversations.
Harry was just turning to ask Allie how things were going in Slytherin when someone shouted from behind him: "Stay away from him you slimy Snake!"
Harry turned, curious to see who had gotten upset and about what, to find Ron standing behind him. The other boy's ears were tinged pink, and his hands were balled into fists.
"I beg your pardon?" Allie asked in an icy voice.
"What's going on, Ron?" he asked, only for Ron to ignore him and continue shouting at Allie.
"You heard me, this is your fault," Ron said. "You're trying to kill Harry."
"She's what?" Harry asked, totally bewildered.
"She's a no-good slimy snake, Harry," Ron said, finally turning to him. "If she'd been sitting by you in Charms and she'd done that to you…"
Harry winced at the memory of his first, and rather…spectacular, Double Charms lesson. After Flitwick had taken the roll he'd given a complex series of notes and sent them to practicing conjuring sparks from their wands. Allie had not succeeded in getting her wand to send up sparks. She had, however, conjured a wash of lurid purple flames that quickly reduced her desk to ash and burned a seven inch-deep, perfectly circular, hole in the floor before Professor Flitwick had been able to extinguish it.
He saw Ernie and Justin watching, the former with his wand out and resting on the table, and shook his head. The last thing Harry wanted to was drag his house and dorm-mates into the inter-house feud that Ron seemed eager to continue for another generation. Cedric gave him a pointed look, but after a firm nod the unofficial advisor to the first-year boys shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.
"Let me get this straight," Allie was saying to Ron as Harry turned back to his friends. "You're suggesting that I tried to kill Harry in class, during the first lesson on the very first day of school, right in front of the Charms Professor, who, I should add, was a world-class duelist when he was younger, with some piece of dark magic that was aimed at him? But," she continued, "I was so incompetent, that instead of attacking Harry, who was seated on the other side of the room, I burned down my desk instead?"
"You weren't there, Ron," Harry said as the tips of his friend's ears turned pink. "It wasn't like that. It was an accident."
"Oh yeah?" Ron asked. "No ordinary magic can make stone burn, Harry. That's powerful Dark Magic, that is." He turned back to Allie. "Good plan, too, get into class with him. I bet you know all kinds of Dark Magic. All that special studying you said you did."
"Weasley," Allie said softly as she smirked at him. "If I'd studied half the Dark Magic that you seem to think I studied, were I in your place, I'd be very careful about irritating me."
"Don't threaten our brother," one of the Weasley twins said, suddenly appearing at Ron's sides as they sprang to his defense.
"Yeah, only we get to torture him," the other side.
"Oh please," Parvati said from the Gryffindor table. "Allie wasn't threatening him. She just pointed out that if Ron's assumptions about what types of magic she'd studied were correct he should show a little care in how he addresses her. I mean, you're accusing someone of studying and using the Dark Arts to her face, that's not exactly something conducive to a long and healthy life."
"Wow," her sister said, moving in from Ravenclaw.
"What?" Parvati said.
"You used 'conducive' in a sentence," Padma said. "That's not all your brother did," she said, turning to Fred and George as Parvati huffed, crossed her arms, and glared at her. "He accused her of using the Dark Arts openly, and ineptly, in front of a teacher of Professor Flitwick's quality, and he did it to her face. I know Gryffindors aren't known for their intellects, and are known for shooting their mouths off without thinking, but even for your house that displays an amazing lack of sense."
The Weasley twins frowned. "She has a point, Ron," one said.
"Snape likes her, what other proof do you need?" Ron demanded.
Harry hadn't had Potions yet, but if even half the stories he'd heard were true he wasn't looking forward to it.
"Ickle Ronnikins has a point too, oh Brother o' Mine," the other said.
"True, very true," the first agreed.
"Professor Snape isn't nearly as bad as you give him credit for being," Allie crossed his arms.
"He gave you points for messing with Neville's potion," Ron accused.
"I gave Ms. Blackthorn points, Mr. Weasley," Snape said silkily from behind the youngest Weasley present, "because she kept Mr. Longbottom's potion from melting his cauldron and dousing half the class with a solution that would have melted the lab tables—thus incurring expensive damage to school property—and raised boils on anyone it touched. Her quick thinking, reaction, and knowledge of the few, simple, extremely…basic instructions that I gave, merited rewarding."
Ron's face had twisted up, first in shock, then in horror as Snape spoke in a voice so soft that conversation around them stilled and the students strained to catch each word.
"Your…ineptitude," Snape went on, "in letting your partner add porcupine quills to the potion while it was still on the fire, and thus putting the entire class at risk, merited much more than the few points I deducted from you. Especially since Ms. Granger," he turned and affixed his gaze on the other first-year Gryffindor who sat frozen like a deer in the headlamps of a car, "Was telling you what to do instead of paying attention to her own work like she was supposed to."
Snape surveyed them all. "I do believe the Ravenclaw table is over there, Ms. Patil."
"Just talking to my sister, sir," Padma said.
Snape's mouth tightened and he flicked his gaze onto Allie. "And your reason, Ms. Blackthorn?"
"I figured this conclave of the student body had to have at least one Slytherin representative," Allie said.
Snape didn't say anything for a moment. "You have five minutes, Ms. Blackthorn, or I shall be forced to take points from my own house. Ms. Patil, the same." He turned and stalked off, his cloak flapping out behind him like bat wings.
Ron glared at Allie again, then he and his brothers stalked back to their table.
"Do you know why Ron doesn't like you?" Harry asked Allie.
Allie shook her head, "I don't know. Most of the name-calling seems centered on the fact that I'm in Slytherin. I've heard some talk in the Slytherin Common Room, about how the other houses and the professors are out to get us, but frankly I don't give it much credit."
"Oh," Harry said, turning back to his breakfast. He was just smearing marmalade onto toast when Hedwig appeared and dropped a letter in front of him. She had turned up with the other post owls at breakfast before to nibble on Harry's ear and nick a bit of toast before flying back to the owlery, but this was the first time she'd brought Harry anything. He took the note from her leg and gave her a piece of bacon to eat while he read the course scrawl that invited him to Hagrid's hut for tea at three.
He borrowed a quill from Hannah to jot down yes, please, see you later, and sent it off with Hedwig to return to Hagrid. He hoped that Professor Snape would go easier on them than he had appeared to go on the Gryffindors, and Cedric had told them that Professor Snape saved most of his animosity for the lion house so he had some hope. Still…the man had looked distinctly displeased to see Harry at the start-of-term banquet. So with much trepidation, Harry finished breakfast and set out in search of the Potion's classroom.
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The potion's classroom was on the first level of the dungeons. Harry knew this because he'd traveled through no less than three levels of dungeons to find the place and he'd seen a stairway leading down to a fourth level of dungeons. It was cold, and would have been creepy enough on its own, but shelves lined each wall, filled with jars of various creatures and… things, twisted and grotesque, floating in fluids ranging from clear and colorless, to poisonous green, to something that was unappealing shade of vomit-inducing pink and so thick you couldn't see what it preserved. There were the expected snakes and fetal pigs, and small furry animals, and quite a few that were not furry and only questionably animal, and several looked like malformed human babies.
Harry was just examining something green and squirming in a bottle of what looked like water mixed with a little rancid milk, when someone tapped his arm. He jumped, grasping for his wand and found Padma standing behind him with an amused expression on her face.
"Jumpy?"
Harry gestured at the bottle he'd been looking at and Padma's nose wrinkled. "I'm sure it's used for something," she said though she didn't sound too sure of herself.
"Besides scaring students?" he asked.
She nodded, and indicated another jar, "Poisoned dragon's liver… Do you think they poison the whole dragon, or just the liver?"
"Both?" Harry suggested weakly. "Hagrid invited me to tea at three…want to come?"
Padma nodded, "Parvati has class free as well, would you mind if I—"
"No, not at all," Harry said. "She's my friend too, you know. What about Allie?"
"If you see her," Padma said, moving to an open lab bench and began unpacking her potion things. "I have no idea where the Slytherins live."
"Somewhere in the dungeons and under the lake, I was told," Harry said. "Would you mind working together?"
"No, not at all," Padma said, grinning at him.
Then Professor Snape entered the classroom with his robes whirling about him and things became quite a bit worse.
After meeting Professor Snape in Diagon Alley, Harry had been rather looking forward to Potions Class. Afterall, even Mr. Patil had said that the man was brilliant. That had changed at the feast. Snape had glowered at the first years throughout the Sorting, and the look he had given Harry during the feast itself caused Harry to suspect that Professor Snape disliked him. He was wrong. Professor Snape did not dislike him—he out-right loathed him. Whatever it was that had made him courteous, if abrupt, in Diagon Alley was absent, and his being in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor didn't seem to have any kind of moderating influence, or, if it did, Harry didn't want to imagine what it'd be like if he had been Sorted into Gryffindor.
Like Flitwick Professor Snape started by taking roll. When he got to Harry he paused and looked at Harry with black eyes; cold and empty and vaguely reptilian. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, our new…celebrity."
There were titters from most of the Ravenclaws in the classroom. Padma frowned at Snape, only to give a little jump when he looked up directly at her. His eyes were black, like Hagrid's and Allie's, but they lacked any of Hagrid's warmth or Allie's sarcastic, often irreverent, humor. They reminded Harry of the eyes of the lizards he'd seen in the reptile house at the zoo and of long, dark tunnels that had no exit.
He finished taking roll and then gave his students a look that left them feeling like they'd been examined and, at least in the case of the Hufflepuffs, had been found wanting. Harry got the feeling that the Ravenclaws were, at best, something that the Potions Master had learned to tolerate. "I am here to teach you the exact art and subtle science of potion-brewing," he said. Like McGonagall he had a flare for keeping his students' attention with very little effort. Unlike her, Harry thought, his words had softly stressed sibilants.
"As there is very little wand-waving foolishness in this class, many of you will hardly consider this magic. I don't expect that you will understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, betwitching the mind, and ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence. Harry and Ernie—who was seated at the next bench over—exchanged looks. Padma sat at the edge of her desk, eager to prove that she wasn't a dunderhead. Most of the rest of the Ravenclaws look similarly ready, though one or two seemed bored with the overly-dramatic monolog.
"Potter."
Harry jerked his head back to Professor Snape.
"What would I get, Potter," Snape hissed, "If I were to aid the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Padma's hand shot and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ernie roll his eyes at the girl. "I don't know," he said, then added, "sir."
Snape's brow furled slightly and his lips twitched but not enough to relieve the dark scowl he directed at Harry. "Tut, tut," he said tonelessly. "Clearly, fame is not everything."
"Let us try again, Potter. Where would you look if I were to instruct you to look for a bezoar?"
Padma's hand stayed stretched as high as she could reach without leaving her chair for orbit, and it was joined by the hands of several other Ravenclaws, but she made a slight pointing gesture towards a door in one wall with her other hand.
Not an office since Snape had come from a third door and the first had led to the hall so… "The supply closet, sir?" he asked.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape sneered, "A point from Hufflepuff for cheek." Still ignoring Padma's quivering hand he asked in a silky voice, "What, Potter, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this Padma's hand wavered, started to rise again, and ended up hovering somewhere just over her head as she bit her lip in serious thought.
"I don't know, Sir, but I think Padma might; why don't you ask her?"
A few people laughed.
Snape glared at Padma whose arm sank abruptly to the desk.
"Thanks a lot, Harry," Padma muttered.
Snape turned back to Harry, "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood result in a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone, taken from the stomach of a ruminant—most commonly a goat—that will save you from most poisons. And monkshood and wolfsbane are common names for the plant also known as aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying this down?"
There was a sudden rush for parchment and quills and over the sound Snape's voice said, "Another point for cheek, Potter, but I do keep a number of bezoars in the supply closet because my idiot students seem to enjoy poisoning themselves."
He paused and the room was filled once more with silence. "I only place orders for bezoars before the school year begins. It would be a…pity were they to run out before it came for me to restock and someone was in need of one."
Harry got the impression that if such were to happen Snape would instead declare a school party.
Then Snape tapped his wand on a blackboard and instructions for a boil-relieving potion appeared, and set them to work in pairs.
Things did not improve for Hufflepuff after that. Snape ignored the Ravenclaws, mostly, but he spared no effort to criticize the Hufflepuff first years as he swept around the room in his long black cloak. He'd disappear into shadows only to suddenly loom over a steaming cauldron to say "Much too hot, Bones", or "You are supposed to crush the snake fangs, Macmillan, not grind them".
Despite this and the points Snape had already taken, the class seemed to be survivable. Harry felt something warm against his chest as he finished stewing his horned slugs. He rubbed his robes and found a damp spot, likely from some splashed potion. A moment later there was a loud hissing like cold water being poured onto a hot griddle. Harry and Padma turned as gouts of acid green smoke billowed up from Zacharias Smith and Megan Jones' cauldron which had melted into a pewter puddle. The potion had splattered across the pair, as well as Zevon and Wayne, raising great red boils wherever it touched.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape as the potion melted through the bench. There was a sharp clang as the blob of former cauldron hit the stone floor, and the potion hissed as it burned the legs of lab stools and holes in peoples' shoes. "I suppose you forgot to take the potion off the fire before adding the porcupine quills," he added, indifferent to Megan who had collapsed and was moaning in pain after being drenched in the failed potion, while he vanished the remnants of the potion with his wand.
Snape turned from them to glare about the room. "You—Potter—why didn't you tell them not to add the quills? I know for a fact that Ms. Blackthorn told you about that particular misstep at breakfast. Thought it'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Hufflepuff."
Harry started to argue, but Padma put a hand on his arm and pulled him back. "Don't push it; I heard Snape can turn very nasty."
Harry scowled, but backed down.
Snape sneered at him, then turned back to Wayne. "What are you waiting for, an ad in the Daily Prophet?" he asked, gesturing at Megan. "Take her up to the hospital wing."
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At five minutes to three Harry was standing in the Entrance Hall waiting for the twins. Padma arrived at almost the same time he did, but it was almost three by the time Parvati showed up, out of breath and with Ron in tow.
"He wanted to come to," she explained.
Harry shrugged in response.
"Snape took seven points off him," Padma told her sister.
"Really?" Ron asked, "What'd you do?"
Padma shot the youngest Weasley brother a disgusted look.
Ron flinched and took a step back, "I mean, uh, cheer up, Snape's always taking loads of points off of Fred and George."
Harry didn't reply as they set off across the grounds.
Hagrid lived in a small stone hut with a thatched roof at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Next to the front door were a pair of galoshes, and either a small arbalest or a very large crossbow sat next to them. There was an empty paddock a short ways off, and a large garden complete with obligatory pumpkin patch and magically animated scare-crow that curved around one side from the back.
Cheerful puffs of smoke were coming from a crooked pipe at the top of the house when they arrived. Harry knocked on the door, and there was a frantic scrabbling inside punctuated by several booming barks.
"Back, Fang—back."
The door cracked open and Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared. "Hang on a mo'," he said. "Back, Fang." He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
The hut held a single, circular room. Hams, pheasants, onions, and drying herbs hung from the rafters. A copper kettle was boiling on an open fire, next to a happily bubbling black cauldron. Next to one wall was a bed larger than three of the dormitory four-posters pushed together, over which was thrown a patchwork quilt. There was an oversized set of table and chairs, with a similarly large teapot and tankard-sized teacups.
"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, turning to check the kettle and letting go of Fang.
Parvati and Padma squealed as the boarhound managed two bounding steps before jumping on Ron. Ron disappeared somewhere beneath the large dog, which promptly began licking his ears.
"Geroff, geroff!"
"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into the teapot.
"No, tha's Fang," Hagrid said. He paused, "Fang?" he reached down and caught up the boarhound by the collar and pulled him back. "Another Weasley, eh? I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. What're yeh doin' on the floor?"
Padma and Parvati giggled as Harry helped Ron to his feet.
"And these and Padma and Parvati," Harry said. "But you've already met."
"So I 'ave," Hagrid said. "Let me set out some more rock cakes."
The rock cakes lived up to their name. At first Harry thought that Hagrid had made a mistake and set out actual rocks, but then Ron found a raisin that he swore broke his tooth. The tea was strong but Harry discovered it wasn't nearly as bad as the rock cakes, though all of them turned down Hagrid's offer of hippogriff milk. They pretended to enjoy the cakes while the four told Hagrid about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes while he crunched rock cakes that Harry slipped him.
Ron complained about his first lesson with Snape, where the Potion's Master had taken three points from Gryffindor between "Granger being a know-it-all" and Ron's "failure to point out the dangers of porcupine quills added to a cauldron still on the fire".
"It's a good thing Allie caught that, then," Padma said. "Zacharias Smith made the same mistake and Snape took points from Harry for it even though Smith was sitting two benches behind Harry. The cauldron melted, splashed potion everywhere. It burned clear through the potion bench and a couple of people got really nasty boils from it. Megan Jones had to be taken to the hospital wing. But he really seemed to have it in for Harry."
"Professor Snape don' really like any o' his students," Hagrid said.
"Maybe, but he really seemed to hate me."
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why would he?" he asked, not meeting Harry's eyes and he quickly turned to Ron. "How's your brother Charlie? I liked him a lot—great with animals."
Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet.
"What do you have there?" Ron asked.
"An article about that break-in at Gringotts," Harry said as he read the clipping. "Padma, Parvati, this was the same day we were there."
"What's it say?" Parvati demanded.
"Just that the vault that was broken into had been emptied earlier that same day," Harry said. "This could have been happening while we were there."
"Does it say what was in the vault?" Ron asked.
"Just that it was emptied," Harry frowned. Important business, needs me ter clear ou' a Gringott's vault fer 'im. He looked up at Hagrid who was pouring more tea and avoiding Harry's gaze. Could it have been that whatever Hagrid had gone to retrieve had been in the vault that had been broken into?
As they trudged back to the castle, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, this question was joined in Harry's mind by others. Had Hagrid collected the package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?