Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

-oOoOo-

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 18

"Pass the gurdyroots, Nev," Harry asked.

A stack of greenish-yellow roots were shoved across the workbench with one hand, even as the other continued to stir the potion that had Neville's undivided attention.

The two of them were the only ones in the small, unused potions lab. Hermione had offered to come with them to help, but both boys were adamant that they wanted to do this on their own. With the exams approaching faster than either wanted to consider and knowing that potions was their weakest subject, they intended on spending as much time as they could working through all of the potions that they'd already made that year. Without help. No Hermione and definitely no Snape.

They'd been down there for hours already slowly brewing away. And they had no intention of leaving except for meals and curfew the entire weekend. Oliver had wanted Harry to spend most of the day on a broom working with the Gryffindor quidditch team, but after the successful win that the team had pulled against Hufflepuff and their remaining match still a couple of weeks away, Harry had no problems telling his captain 'no' just this once.

Surprisingly, they were both still using the original cauldrons that they'd started the day with. Normally Neville would melt or even blow up his cauldron every other lesson.

"I think that it's because Snape's not here," Neville had said when Harry had mentioned this fact. "I'm usually so terrified of him, that I always get something wrong."

Harry had simply nodded and realised that the same thing was true for him as well. Without the greasy-haired bat hovering around making snide remarks every other minute, he, too, was able to concentrate much easier. Each of the two potions that the boys had already created, while not being the exact shade that they were supposed to be, were some of the best potions work that they'd ever done.

"What's the next step, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry paused to look at their potions book, his silver knife hovering over the perfect slithers of root on his board. "Stir continuously in a clockwise motion for three minutes and then add two finely diced frog's spleens, before stirring in a counter-clockwise direction for seven minutes."

Their intense concentration was broken some minutes later, not by the door opening, which they never heard, but by the sound of a sneer coming from right behind them.

"What are you two dunderheads think you are doing?"

Harry jerked, nearly cutting himself with the knife that he still held. He spun to find Professor Snape looming far too close for comfort, looking down at them from behind his long nose.

"Practising our potions, sir," he said.

"And who gave you permission to be in here?" Professor Snape asked.

"Um, Professor McGonagall, sir," Harry replied.

"Professor McGonagall was content to allow the two worst potions students in the school unsupervised access to this potions lab, was she?" he scoffed.

"Yes, sir," Harry gulped. "We're only practising all the potions that you've already taught us, sir, not trying anything new."

Snape sniffed in clear derision as he slowly rounded the workbench only to peer intently at the four vials on the teacher's desk.

"These appear to be poor attempts at strengthening solution and shrinking potion, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, stealing a glance at the shaking boy with his eyes glued to his cauldron beside him.

"And how many cauldrons were sacrificed in making these two … potions so far?" Professor Snape asked.

"None, sir," Harry answered, trying to mask the anger that was steadily building inside him.

"None?" Snape scoffed. "Is that so, Longbottom?"

"Yes, sir," Neville whispered, his eyes darting up to the professor before shooting straight back to his cauldron.

With a sudden step forward, Snape peered into the cauldrons in front of the two boys. Harry watched his brow furrow as his eyes swept across the bench taking in each of the ingredients spread out around them.

"An engorgement potion, I take it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered.

"Longbottom, stop your infernal stirring and add in your frog's spleen before the whole thing blows up in your face," Snape snapped before turning and sweeping his way towards the door.

"How long were you planning on using this room?" Professor Snape asked from the door.

"All weekend, sir," Harry replied.

"Then perhaps there's hope for you yet," he sneered before the door closed with a crash.

-oOoOo-

Hermione crept into the room not long before dinner. Potion making, she knew, involved a lot of concentration and startling her friends at the wrong time could easily see the work they were doing being completely ruined.

As she walked around the outside of the room, she studied her friends. Both looked frizzled from being around bubbling cauldrons all day. In fact, she didn't think that she'd ever seen Harry's hair looking so messy before. Neville was staring intently at whatever it was he was carefully slicing. Harry was likewise engrossed as he stirred his potion. She smiled slightly as she noticed the tip of his tongue poking out in that intense way that he had. He'd been doing that more and more lately, particularly when he was studying and it always made her smile.

Noticing the collection of vials on the teacher's desk, she crossed the room to study them. A small piece of parchment under each one labelled what they were. Harry's, it was easy to see, were the closest to being the exact shade of colour that they were supposed to be. In fact, the end one looked to be perfect. Neville's vials also looked to be some of the best potion work that she'd ever seen him do. All, that is, except the engorgement potion. That one looked to be about on par with his normal work.

"Oh, hi Hermione, when did you get here?" Neville asked, startling her upright to smile at the boys.

"Only a couple of minutes ago. I didn't want to interrupt what you were doing," she replied.

"Hmph, if only Snape was as nice as you," Harry grunted.

Hermione cocked her head. "Professor Snape, Harry, and what do you mean?"

"The git barged in this morning and just started into us as usual when we were working," Harry replied.

Hermione glanced back at the vials. "Was it while you were brewing the engorgement potion?"

"How'd you know?" a clearly startled Neville asked.

"Easy. That's the one that shows the least improvement," she replied.

"Greasy git," Harry groused. "Reckon both Neville and I could do alright in potions if he wasn't our teacher."

Neville nodded as he tipped in his final ingredient. "Harry's right. I haven't melted one cauldron or blown up one potion all day."

"All we've needed is our book and a chance to work without being constantly insulted," Harry agreed before pausing in thought. "Thinking about it, all Snape does is write up the ingredients on the board anyway. It's not like he ever really teaches us anything. I wonder if there's a way to simply ditch him and learn the subject ourselves."

"No, Harry, there's not," Hermione stated firmly. "We have to have a teacher. I think when we're NEWT students we can have an independent subject, but not until then."

"Yeah, she's right, Harry," Neville said sadly. "Otherwise I'd ditch not only potions but defence against the dark arts and history of magic as well. I'm not learning anything from Quirrel or Binns either."

"I don't know, Nev, I've learnt how to sleep with my eyes open in Binn's class," Harry joked. "And at least he doesn't smell like Quirrel does. What's with that anyway?"

"I think it's garlic. I heard Fred and George saying that it was to ward off the vampires he supposedly met last summer," Neville replied.

"Whatever it is, it's revolting. Have you noticed the other professors trying to avoid him as well? Not to mention the death glares that Snape's been giving him of late," said Harry.

"We may not like it, but he's still one of our teachers," Hermione admonished.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, even you can't say that those three are good teachers," Harry replied.

Hermione scowled at him. Neville beside him was clearly in total agreement. But she'd always been taught that her teachers were to be respected and it grated on her that if she was totally honest with herself, then she had to admit that the boys had valid points. Not that she had any intention of telling them that.

"I'll admit that they're not as good as Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick," she finally allowed. "But that doesn't mean that they don't have a lot that we can learn from them."

Neville snorted with laughter as Harry managed to get the last word in. A word that, knowing Hermione, she wouldn't be able to refute. "That doesn't mean that we couldn't learn just as much, if not more, simply by reading books on the subject."

-oOoOo-

The laughing faces of four boys, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, stared up at Harry.

He'd spent the last few hours engrossed in the memory journal about his parents that he'd been compiling. He'd read and reread all of the stories that he'd written down that Hagrid had told him. He'd examined all of the facts that they'd been able to glean from both the library and the Trophy Room about the House of Potter (which when it was added up, didn't really amount to much yet) and he'd stared intently at all of the photos, committing them to memory.

Later, he knew, he'd probably regret that he hadn't been spending that time studying. Hermione would definitely make sure that he regretted it once she found out and started berated him. But right now, there was a promise to keep.

Months ago, Harry'd made a vow to write to the three boys that surrounded his father in this picture. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. But every time that he'd picked up a quill, he'd been stuck. What exactly would he write to these three men?

However, with the year-end fast approaching, Harry didn't want to put it off any longer. All he needed to do was to come up with the first letter and then copy it out twice more, with the appropriate name on top, of course.

Slowly, he picked up a quill, dipped it into his ink bottle and pulled a piece of parchment to him.

Dear Sirius, he wrote before pausing to once more stare at the picture. Finally, after a quick shake of his head and clenching his teeth in determination, he continued.

My name is Harry Potter. I'm writing to you because I recently found out that you were friends with my dad, James Potter, when you went to Hogwarts.

I grew up with my mum's sister Petunia and because of that, I don't really know anything about my mum and dad.

I was hoping that you might be able to tell me about them. Any stories or interesting things that you remember would be absolutely great. You can either write to me or

Here Harry lifted his quill in deep thought. Should he dare risk it? Focussing on his dad's face in the picture, Harry made his mind up. For this, he was willing to take whatever punishment Uncle Vernon dished out.

or you can visit me over the summer holidays. I live at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey with my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Harry Potter

After reading the short letter through three times, Harry decided that it'd do. Quickly, he copied the letter out twice more, addressing these to Remus and Peter. Then, snapping the journal shut, he stuffed the letters into envelopes and thence into his pocket before shooting out of the door.

There wasn't long until curfew, but he was sure that there was just enough time to get to the owlery and back again.

-oOoOo-

The instant that he stepped into the owlery, a flash of white feathers landed on the window sill beside him.

"Hello, Hedwig, interested in taking a letter for me?" Harry asked as he stroked her soft feathers.

A soft coo and an outstretched leg had Harry's hand reaching into his pocket for one of the letters.

"This one is for Remus Lupin," he said after checking the name on the envelope. "I'm sorry but I don't know where he is. Just do your best, okay?"

After a gentle nip at his finger, Hedwig took off. Harry watched her go before turning to face the mass of owls almost hidden in the gloom at the top of the great domed tower.

"Um, I have two other letters that need delivering. Would any of you like the job?" he asked.

A large tawny owl was the first to respond, followed quickly by a majestic dark brown screech owl. After tying the two letters on and giving them their instructions, Harry watched them hop out of the window and fly off.

He thought it was odd that the screech owl veered straight around towards the far side of the castle, but shrugged, figuring that the bird knew what it was doing.