The first week of classes flew by. Harry had had every class, except potions, at least once, and so far, he liked charms the best. Professor Flitwick was really cool, once he had recovered from the shock of reading Harry's name out loud for the first time, and the spells they had practiced seemed more practical and relevant to daily life than either transfiguration or defence.

Turning a match into a needle was a neat party trick, but it seemed a little redundant, if one could learn a mending spell, instead. Still, he had managed to turn his match into metal in the very first transfigurations class, and had earned a house point for Slytherin for his efforts, which was nice. Professor McGonagall was strict, and Harry got the feeling that earning house points from her would take effort, so that one point seemed more valuable than any of the others he had managed to get, thus far.

Professor Quirrell, on the other hand, had been weird. The man had been a stuttering wreck, and had not yet recovered from a traumatic vampire encounter, of some kind, and yet he had claimed to have fought and killed a zombie for his turban, and he had volunteered to teach what was essentially combat magic. It didn't make any sense.

Having a ghost for a teacher didn't make any sense either, not when Professor Binns constantly forgot which class he was teaching, or even what year it was. Harry had decided right away that he would just study the textbook on his own, rather than attempt to pay attention to, and make sense of, the droning lectures. It was easier to stay awake during his astronomy lab at midnight, than history of magic.

At least herbology was interesting. Harry already knew quite a bit about the plants they'd seen so far, since parts of them were used in several of the potions in the first-year text book, and he had looked up everything he could find about their uses, but it was still cool to see how each plant needed to be cared for. Harry could see how improper care might affect their effectiveness as ingredients, and wondered if different conditions for the plants could be intentionally used to create different effects in the potions made from them. It was worth looking into.

Harry was also keeping a close eye on his classmates. Pansy was still nice to him, and she was funny, but her sarcasm could get a little mean against people she didn't like, and even sometimes to those she did. Draco never seemed to take it personally, and only sniped back harder, but it made Harry a bit uneasy. If she unleashed on him like that, he wasn't sure what he would do. He'd die of embarrassment, if he ended up doing something stupid, like crying.

Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini were both happy to compete against each other and Harry in class, which was nice, but neither had said much to him during their free time. Theo was often lost in his own little world, scribbling notes or doodling, or moving his fingers as if he was tracing something invisible, that he could see in his mind. Tracy Davis was a bit of a snob, and so girly that Harry didn't think they had much in common, but she didn't bother him, and Millicent Bulstrode barely talked to anyone.

Vince had already given Ron Weasley a black eye, Dean Thomas a bloody nose, and had even made a third year Ravenclaw cry, after he'd pushed them down from behind, and they'd sprained their wrist. Greg hadn't been as aggressive as Vince, but once a fight started, he was more than happy to jump in to defend his friend.

Not that the other students had been entirely innocent, Harry thought bitterly. It was true what they said; everyone seemed to have a grudge against Slytherin, and no one was happy that the Boy Who Lived had joined their ranks. He had been called a blood purist, a Dark Lord, a slimy snake… all kinds of things that weren't very nice. He and Draco had quickly taken to walking with Vince and Greg between classes, to make other students think twice about letting a fight turn physical, but the threat of two first-year body guards, even big ones, only did so much to protect them from the older and brasher students.

Harry really needed to learn both stinging hexes, and how to shield against them, as soon as he could. He wished, not for the first time, that Aunt Petunia had let him take karate, after he'd seen Dudley watching a movie about it on the telly. Thankfully, she hadn't wanted her Little Dudders to learn how to fight like that at that age, either, or Harry would have been screwed.

The morning running sessions had continued all week. Draco had woken Harry up on Wednesday, as annoyingly chipper as he had been the day before, but with the saving grace of a strong cup of tea, and a light snack, as recompense.

On Thursday, he had seemed less enthusiastic, and Harry wondered if he was beginning to regret the lack of sleep his ambitious plan was costing them both, once the full load of homework kicked in.

By Friday, Harry had woken up on his own accord, and looked up to see Draco passed out and drooling on his pillow.

Harry smirked, and snuck to the kitchens for two cups of tea. It was payback time.

He drank his tea on the way back to the dorms, and set Draco's down on his bedside table before leaping onto Draco like a muggle WWF wrestler. He laughed when Draco let out a strained oof and frantically tried to disentangle himself from his covers, to exact revenge.

Harry kept him pinned. "Run time!"

Draco groaned. "Ge'off!"

"Up you get!"

"I'm too tired today. C'mon Harry; It's been a long week!"

"You should have thought of that before you dragged me into this!" Harry said gleefully. "You might like to drop things once they get a little hard, but I'm stubborn, and now that you've made this our routine, we're sticking with it, and that's final!"

"Okay, fine. Get off before I suffocate, you knobby-kneed brute."

Harry stuck out his tongue, but hopped off and grabbed the Draco's cup. "I brought tea!"

After the run, Harry was anxious to get breakfast over with so he could get to potions nice and early. He dragged Draco into the great hall, and grabbed a few pastries that he could eat on the run, if he needed to.

"Slow down," Draco laughed. "We've got plenty of time!"

"But it's potions!" Harry insisted. Professor Snape had told him that he wouldn't treat Harry any better or worse than anyone else, unless he earned it, but it had still stung a bit, when the man had taken that promise so seriously that he hadn't even said hi. Harry really needed to start proving himself as soon as possible, so he could earn the professor's respect, and they could start talking again.

"You won't earn any house points if you choke to death, Teacher's Pet."

Harry huffed, but did remember to chew before he swallowed, after that.

Most of the Slytherins were already waiting outside the potions classroom door when the first group of Gryffindors arrived.

The tension rose as the two groups got close and Draco, naturally, decided to fan the flames.

"Nice eye, Weasley," he drawled, after double checking that Vince was standing close, "Is that shade of black a hand-me-down, too, or was it charity?"

Weasley flushed an angry red. "Should have known you'd suck up to Potter before term even started, Malfoy. I bet your father's taught you seventeen different ways to grovel, already."

"Leave my father out of it!" Draco snapped, drawing himself up to his full height, and tossing his head in a way that would probably be more impressive, if Vince, Greg, and Weasley weren't all towering over him. "At least he knows how to provide for his family! Are the rumors true, Weasley? You used to be a twin too, but your family needed something to eat…"

"My father would never hurt a child, but I bet you can't say the same, can you? Does Death Eater Daddy only go for muggle kids, or does he take it out on you, too, when the ministry isn't looking?"

Harry scowled. "Like mother like son, I see. You should watch your mouth, making unfounded claims against respected members of society. It's a bad look."

"Stay out of it, Potter. Have you been checked for curses, since you got here? You sound like a brainwashed little puppet."

"ENOUGH!" Professor Snape boomed, as he pulled the classroom doors open. "Ten points from Gryffindor for fighting in the halls. Now, find your seats!"

The rest of the Slytherins snickered under their breaths as everyone took their seats, but Harry was confused. Why hadn't Professor Snape taken house points from both sides of the fight? It made Harry a little uncomfortable to think that he had gotten away with something he shouldn't have.

Still, this was the class Harry had been most looking forward to, all week, so he pushed his concern aside, and followed Draco to the front row of work stations to take his seat. He grinned at Draco, who rolled his eyes at Harry's enthusiasm, but still grinned back. Harry knew that, despite his insistence on calling Harry a Teacher's Pet, Draco was excited to do well in this class, too.

Professor Snape began the class by taking roll call. He paused briefly when he reached Harry's name, but made no comment before pressing on.

Harry had his parchment laid out, and quill in hand, waiting eagerly for Professor Snape to begin. He didn't realise that he was wriggling in his seat, until Draco poked him to get him to stop. Harry tried to sit still, but his energy needed to go somewhere, and he knew he began fidgeting whenever Harry's focus settled back onto the professor.

After a truly awe inspiring and eloquent speech about the virtues of potioneering, Professor Snape turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, let's see if you've managed to come to class prepared."

Harry leaned forward in his seat, "Yes, Sir!"

"If I were to add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would be the result?"

"If you used the right proportions and stirred it correctly, you would get Draught of Living Death, Sir."

"Indeed. And what is the correct method of stirring, to get the desired result?"

"You would need to stir counter-clockwise five or six times, to activate the common sleep-inducing nature of both ingredients, Sir."

"And what would happen if I made the mistake of stirring clockwise, instead?"

Harry shuddered. "You would dampen the sleep effect, and instead activate the paranoia of the wormwood and the disembodiment of the asphodel. If you made it strong enough, Sir, the victim of the brew might very well tear their own soul from their body in a fit of panic, and distrust against themselves."

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Let's try another. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry smirked. "They're the same plant, Sir. It also goes by the name of aconite."

"And why is it suitable for use in both the Wolfsbane Potion as well as the Wide-eye Potion?"

"Because it contains an awakening property, Sir. The Wide-eye Potion uses this directly, to cause physical and mental wakefulness, while the Wolfsbane Potion inverts it, to subdue the wakefulness of a werewolf's primal nature, during a full moon."

"It's good to see that there's more to your head than that scar, Mr. Potter. Thirty points to Slytherin, for answering questions most of my O.W.L. students could not."

Harry gaped at the astronomical number of points. He worried that Professor Snape was treating him with favoritism, after all, but when he glanced around, he saw that both the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were looking at him as if he were some kind of genius. No one else had known those answers. He had earned those points. Harry preened under the attention.

"Let's see if anyone else can rival Mr. Potter here. Miss Granger, you've been giving yourself a workout, raising and lowering your hand so often. Tell me, how would I need to prepare aconite, if I were to use it in a Wide-eye Potion?"

"You'd chop it finely, Sir," Granger said, smugly.

"Why?"

Granger paused. Her eyes darted to her textbook. "I… I don't know, Sir. The textbook never said."

"Make an informed guess, or an intuitive leap, Miss Granger. You've already gained a reputation for regurgitating textbook answers at your other professors, but that knowledge will only get you so far, if you are unable to apply it to unexpected situations. Especially in potions. So, why?"

Tears brimmed in Granger's eyes, as she flushed an angry red, but they did not fall. "I… it doesn't… I read five different books on potions, Sir, and the answer wasn't in any of them?"

"So, you are unable to piece together what you have read, to figure it out?"

"I don't know, Sir. I'd need time to think it through."

"Disappointing. Can anyone else answer my question? Mr. Weasley? No? Miss Patil? How about you, Mr. Potter? Was your earlier success just a fluke?"

"No, Sir. You finely chop the aconite with a very sharp knife because it requires the maximum possible surface area to gain full potency, but you cannot crush or powder it, because it must be used fresh, and the plant is very sensitive to bruising. Even pinching the leaves too roughly when harvesting them will destroy their potency, and make them useless, Sir."

"Correct. Take another five points, Mr. Potter. Let's see if you're the only Slytherin with the cunning to think critically. Mr. Malfoy, where would I find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, Sir."

"Correct, and what is it used for?"

"It can cure most poisons, Sir."

"Name one exception."

"Basilisk venom, Sir."

"And why is that?"

"I suppose because the venom is too potent, Sir. It would destroy the bezoar before it had time to neutralize anything."

"Five points to Slytherin. I expect the rest of you to come to class prepared, next time."

The class was instructed to open their textbooks to the recipe for a simple boil-curing potion, and were set loose to brew.

While everyone else was gathering their ingredients, Harry raised his hand.

"What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"I have a question about this recipe, Sir," Harry said, scooting his textbook to the edge of the table, and pointing out the note he'd scribbled in the margin. "It says to stir 3 times clockwise, after adding the powdered fangs, but shouldn't it be 4 clockwise and once counter-clockwise, Sir?"

"Why do you think that, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, that way you'd fully activate healing property of the fangs, but also counteract the irritant of the fangs and nettles. The way the textbook says would work, but it would make the boils itch and sting as they were being cured, wouldn't it?"

"That is correct. Why do you think a book meant for first years might teach the simpler, less effective, method?"

Harry thought about it. "Because it's easier to remember?"

"Indeed. Each complexity offers an opportunity for mistakes."

"So, should I follow the recipe when I see a better way to do things, or try it my way?"

"That is up to you, Mr. Potter. If you try it your way, and it works, you will receive higher marks, but if you try it and it fails, I will mark you down. I suggest you write down which changes you intend to make, in advance, and your reasoning as to why. That way, even if your potion fails, I can mark and critique you on your though process. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great, Sir! Thanks!"

Harry was happily absorbed in his brewing, when a loud hissing from the back of the room caught his attention. He looked behind himself, and saw a cloud of acid green smoke rising from Longbottom's now melted cauldron, and his wreck of a potion spilling out all over the floor and eating at people's shoes.

Harry quickly scrambled up onto his stool, careful not to disturb his own potion, which was thankfully set to simmer for the next few minutes, and didn't need his attention at the moment.

"Idiot boy!" Professor Snape yelled at Longbottom, who was writhing in pain. "Mr. Potter, can you tell me what this imbecile did wrong?"

Harry wobbled on his stool, as he squared his shoulders. "It seems he added the porcupine quills before removing the potion from the heat, Sir."

"Correct! Mr. Finnigan, kindly escort Mr. Longbottom to the infirmary, and do try to consider the consequences of not only your own actions, but in your failure to prevent the actions of those around you."

The remainder of the class was uneventful. Harry's potion was the best in the class, he could tell just by looking, but Draco's, Theo's and Granger's were all close behind, and Zabini's, Greengrass', and Patil's were also pretty strong. Harry smiled at the chance for some competition, to keep him sharp and focused.

They were packing up to leave, when Professor Snape approached him. "Mr. Potter, a word?"

Harry nodded, and followed the professor to the front of the class, as everyone else finished gathering their things, and left. "That was very impressive, Harry. How on earth did you manage to answer all of my questions? I meant to stump you with at least one of them."

Harry beamed. "I figured out that potions is like a puzzle, Sir. I decided not to just learn which pieces there were, but how and why they fit together. Once I had that figured out, the rest is pretty easy. It just takes a little thinking."

"I'm going to struggle to keep you from being bored this year, aren't I?"

Shrugging sheepishly, Harry fiddled with his quill. "Maybe a little. Your speech at the beginning of class was interesting, though! And the pop quiz was fun. And the brewing was exciting, even without Longbottom. I'm glad that you don't mind if I experiment a little, as long as I have a good reason why."

"Well, let me know if you do get bored. I'll think of some extra challenges for you."

"Thanks, Sir! Um, Sir? Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask."

"Before class, why did you take points from Weasley, but not from me?"

"Weasley was the one making a scene when I opened the door."

"Well yes, but surely you knew there was a fight going on?"

"Do you want me to take back some of your points, Potter? I had a good idea of what I was walking in on, but I had no proof. Far too many professors take points based on their assumptions about a situation, over the facts they can prove. For most of them, that includes assuming that Slytherin is at fault."

"And you try to be fair, Sir?"

Professor Snape sighed. "I do, to an extent. Sometimes, though, fair means balancing against the injustices of others. It is complicated."

"But, everyone thinks you're the unfair one; that you're mean. I've heard people talking…"

"That is a burden I am willing to bear, Potter. Do you not approve?"

"I don't know, Sir. I'm glad you don't want us being treated unfairly, but what if what you're doing is causing people to treat us more unfairly? At home, if Dudley was given candy, and I wasn't, that was unfair. But if I stole candy from Dudley later to get my fair share, he never thought we were even. He thought I was the bad guy, and he'd beat me up. It was always better to just let him have the candy."

"You're saying I should do nothing?"

"NO! …I don't know. I just don't want things getting worse. Draco already calls me a Teacher's Pet, because I am trying so hard to impress you. I don't want to become everyone's target, if they can't get back at you directly."

"I… I will think about it Mr. Potter. Regardless, you earned every point you received in class today. You should be very proud."

And Harry was proud. He had earned an obscene amount of points, and he'd gotten Professor Snape to talk to him again! It was a good day.