Chapter 5

SOMNOLEVERITAPHANTASMAGORIA POWDER

By Monday's session of Potions, Harry had appealed to Hermione so many times that he could say the mouthful of a potion without stuttering. "The Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder is your idea, Hermione. Ron and I can't think of a better one. Nothing else will settle the question. Won't you please help us make it?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes darting meaningfully toward the Potions master's office door. As the professor swept into the dungeon classroom, Harry sealed his lips. Snape's black eyes scanned the class, hunting for truants. Finding everyone present, he looked disappointed—until he focused on Harry. When the professor smiled, Harry's mouth went dry.

"Ah, our resident celebrity. Nothing pleases me more than a tale of bravery and quick wits. Tell the class, Potter, just how was it you vanquished the dragon and saved Hogwarts?"

Draco Malfoy and his buddies exploded into chortles, sniggers, and guffaws. Wilhelm Avery smirked. Harry tensed every muscle in his body to keep from squirming in embarrassment or jumping over his desk to slam his fist into Snape's sneering face.

Then a barely audible whisper made the ridicule worthwhile: "I'll help you make the potion."

A week later, they'd arranged everything. Hermione had researched the necessary ingredients for Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria Powder and determined that three were obtainable only by passing the four-day examination for Certified Public Concoctionist or sneaking into Snape's office.

Ron glanced down at the list as Dobby read it. "Hey, there're four items here."

Dobby craned his head back to look up at Ron. "That's right, sir. Sphinx piss and candori root are for truth powder. Bandersnatch skin flakes are for dream powder and—"

Hermione hurried over and retrieved her scrap of parchment. "You've obviously memorized it. Time to get going. Ron, Harry, and I have to be in class before you start—in case we need to distract the professor from going into his office."

Harry noted a flush on Hermione's cheeks, then shrugged. She was always nervous when they ventured outside the rules. Turning to wish Dobby luck, he found the elf was gone.

"I'd like to learn to do that," Ron said.

Poking his head into Snape's dungeon, Harry surveyed the dank walls lined with jars of unidentifiable pickled animals and the rough flagstone floor stained with countless generations of scholars' failed potions. Between classes, the rows of acid-riddled stools and desks were deserted, but a rotten egg smell still hung in the air.

Quickly, he stepped back and motioned Hermione and Ron up the stairs. "We're early," he whispered. He wanted to add, Snape would find that suspicious, but before leaving Gryffindor they'd agreed to keep their conversation discreet. Who knew what magical listening devices the old Slytherin might have secreted around his lair?

When they were halfway up the flight of stairs, the three friends stopped and fidgeted with their cauldrons. Finally, Hermione asked, "How's your chess coming along? You'll have stiff competition in the tournament."

Ron shrugged. "Last Saturday, I beat Katie seven times in a row. Her side got so bloodied, I might have to buy her a whole new set of white pieces."

Harry thought of how animated and individual wizard chessmen looked. Repeatedly, Ron had assured him they only seemed real, but Harry hated to think of them as injured and replaced. Hermione obviously accepted that they weren't actually alive. Otherwise, she'd be niggling them to join a wizard chess piece liberation movement.

Instead, she said, "I wish Hogwarts had electricity. I have a chess program on my computer at home that might be more of a challenge."

Ron looked interested. "I've seen pictures of computers, but I can't imagine how they play games. I know Muggle chess pieces don't move by themselves." he frowned. "Do ou need a special computer? One with hands?"

Hermione gave Harry a look that said, You explain it to him.

Over Hermione's shoulder, Harry noticed Wilhelm Avery sauntering down the stairs with a couple of other Slytherins. Son of the Death Eater Harry had watched Voldemort torment with a Cruciatus Curse the year before, Wilhelm had previously attended Durmstrang. His father had transferred him after Karkaroff disappeared and the Hungarian Ministry of Magic appointed a new headmaster with no whiff of dark wizardry about him. Harry supposed that Avery senior had thought lessons with Snape would be the next best thing.

Catching Harry's eye, Wilhelm gave him a smirk that showed he'd heard Ron's question. Instead of tossing out his own gibe, he nudged Draco. Obligingly, the little pain-in-the-rear strutted down the steps towards them.

"Yeah, Weasley, and you need ones with feet to run all the errands your Mother has to do because your family doesn't have a house elf."

Harry gripped Ron's shoulder. "Come on." More classmates came trooping down the stairs. Neville clutched his books and parchments tightly to his chest as he edged along the wall to avoid the Slytherins. Wilhelm purposefully bumped him on his way to whisper something into Draco's ear.

When Ron turned away, Harry was grateful. After four years of being taunted, his friend had grown too mature to respond to Slytherin half-witticisms.

Then Draco flung out one more. "And for all those times your Mother gets bored with your Father, there's a super-special computer with everything she needs."

Ron went rigid. Then he growled. Dropping her cauldron, Hermione threw her arms around him. Harry didn't know whether to help her hold Ron back or have a go at Draco himself.

"Weasley!" The menacing whisper cut through the crowd of pupils piling up on the steps.

Ron trembled under Harry's hand. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. In an admirably calm voice, he answered, "Present."

Relaxing, Hermione retrieved her cauldron. Harry looked down the stairs to see Snape filling his doorway. The shrewd black eyes regarded them coolly—calculating the potential to dock points from Gryffindor. With a scowl, the Slytherin retreated to his dungeon.

Ron leaned close to Harry's ear. "Did you see Snape's hair? He's discovered a fantastic new potion. It's called shampoo."

Suppressing a grin, Harry joined the jostle of students. As he and Ron passed, Crabbe made an obscene gesture. They ignored him and threaded their way to their desks. Harry wrinkled his nose against the sulfurous reek. He knew he'd get used to it in a minute.

Under Snape's chilly gaze, the class assembled quietly and quickly. After their first Double Potions session four years before, the professor had never again taken roll. He knew everyone's name, he knew each house, and he knew how to discipline a lame excuse. So far this year, nobody had skipped.

"Today's topic is liberating potions," Snape began in his silky soft voice, "potions that unlock, unravel, unfetter, disencumber, or transform. Like memory potions, their purpose is to alter the workings of the mind."

As usual, Hermione rushed her quill across her parchment, anxiously keeping pace with Snape's words. In Potions, Harry always listened attentively, but he saved his note taking for tricks of the trade, obscure references, and the occasional threat. Clearly, cauldrons were not going to be his life's work. His main concern was passing.

When Snape glowered at him, Harry resisted the urge to feign writing. If irritated, the professor was more likely to hover around harassing them during the second half of the session when he'd have them brew their own. To ensure Dobby time to find all of the Somnoleveritaphantasmagoria ingredients, they had to keep Snape out of his office.

"The mind is a castle," the Potions master resumed, "with more halls and chambers, towers and dungeons, staircases and passages, twists and turns than Hogwarts. When the soul is liberated, it constantly builds and explores. When a soul is damaged, it retreats to a familiar corner, bars the doors, nails up barriers, and blocks out the light."

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville abruptly stop his frantic scribbling. Glancing sidelong, he saw concentration on his fellow Gryffindor's face sufficient to record Snape's words more fully than his pen ever could. In a flash, Harry knew why. Liberating potions. Neville was wondering whether such a thing could break down the madness that kept his parents in an asylum. If Snape did turn out to be loyal, Harry thought, perhaps he could be persuaded to try.

"As with all potions that influence thoughts, mere ingestion is not sufficient. A skilled practitioner is required to lead the subject through the mind's traps and mazes. For a liberating potion to achieve its purpose, a gentle guide is necessary."

Harry sighed. A gentle guide. So much for Snape helping Neville's mum and dad.

At an unexpected noise from the back of the room, Snape looked up. When the professor's face didn't twist into a scowl, Harry knew the odd sound hadn't come from a student. Glancing back, he saw Professor Daine. Again he heard a muffled cry, but obviously not from her. As usual, her smile was sunny. Her golden hair shone like a halo in the gloom of Snape's dungeon.

"Am I late, or am I early?"

"Your timing will do," Snape responded curtly.

Auhtor's Note: So, what do you think? Please review!