HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all have wonderful things to look forward too! I hope you enjoy!
"Mr Potter!" He heard McGonagall say. With a sigh, he hopped off the wall he and Ron were standing on, clambering through senseless first years to talk to her.
"Yes, professor?"
"Shouldn't you be in potions right now, Mr Potter?"
"Oh, I'm not taking it this year, I can't. I needed an O to get in, but I got an EE."
"It would do you well to remember that Professor Snape is not teaching it this year, but Professor Slughorn." She reminded him. "He only requires an EE to make it into his class."
"Oh." Great response, Harry!
"I would head there now before you are late. Oh, and bring Weasley with you, he looks far too happy up there." And with a swift turn, McGonagall headed back to her classroom. Or maybe her torture chamber, since thats obviously what she wanted to do to Harry.
"C'mon Ron!" He called out, his red-headed friend hopping off the wall and walking towards him.
"Where are you going?"
"Potions. McGonagall said Slughorn accepts EE students."
"Rotten luck mate, well, good luck-"
"You're coming with me, Ron."
"Damnit." He said, following Harry into the dungeons. "I hope he isn't as bad as Snape."
"Yeah, me too." Harry replied, rounding the corner. Slughorn stood at the door, inviting students in with a smile.
"Mr Potter!" He cried out. "I had hoped you would attend my class! Oh, and you are?"
"Ron Weasley, sir." Ron told him.
"Excellent, come on in!"
"Sir, you see, the thing is, we don't have any of the materials. We thought we needed an O for this class." Harry told the professor. Ron mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like "who's we?"
"Oh, not a problem at all! I should have two spare book in the cabinet, you'll see it on your left when you walk in. ANd for ingredients, all will be provided for you today, and I can set you up with some later. Only the best for you, Mr Potter."
Slughorn slapped his shoulder with a wink, laughing as the three of them entered, Ron and Harry going for the books.
After a long, dangerous fight (only about ten seconds of shoving) Harry was the proud new owner of a destroyed potions book. Wonderful!
"Welcome all, I am so glad you are here! Now, to start us off easy, I'll ask you some very basic questions. I hope you are all ready!" Slughorn chuckled, seemingly to himself. "Now, when does one harvest Swenton?"
Hermione was the first to raise her hand.
"Yes, miss?"
"Granger, sir. You harvest Swenton every new moon at precisely seven in the evening for the most potent of its juices."
"Correct, Miss Granger! A point to Gryffindor."
"She totally learned that from Neville." Ron whispered to him, Harry nodding in agreement.
"What is the potion that inflicts a sense of love, partnership, and adoration, all while being fake?" Slughorn asked, calling on a Hufflepuff girl this time.
"Amoretia, sir."
"Correct Miss Bones! Which leads us into our next topic, brewing this certain potion. While not outlawed by the ministry, if one is charged with using this type of love potion, you can be charged a very high fee. However, the potion itself doesn't last that long with a single use. In fact, you'd have to dose someone repeatedly to get the desired affects of the potion you want."
"How often would it need to be used."
"I can't tell you that, but I'm sure with some light reading you can find it." Slughorn said with a laugh and a wink. "In fact, too much of this potion can be fatal, and there is a certain window of time when it is okay to deliver the potion. Now, since you'll have to write a paper over the potion, we'll move on to the fun part of it." Slughorn opened up a caldron next to him, taking a deep breath. "Smelling it!"
"Sir, is this safe?" Hermione asked, even as she tiptoed closer to it. Harry looked to his side, noticing Ron doing the same. He shot his hand out, stopping his friend with a shake of his head.
"Of course! A small little sniff will tell you a scent that truly attracts you, which isn't harmful. Just don't drink it, of course." Slughorn laughed again. Harry wondered if the man talked to himself, with how much he laughed at his own sayings. "Now, dear girl, what do you smell?"
"Parchment, and…" Hermione took another sniff. "Eucalyptus, and… oranges?"
"Wonderful, wonderful! Now, would anyone else like a try? Say, Mr Potter! Come get a sniff of your own! Maybe the lucky lady is in this class." A few students laughed, and with pinkening cheeks, Harry walked up to the front and took a quick sniff.
He couldn't smell anything. So, he did the next best thing. Lying.
"Flowers, sir. Like…tulips, and…Petunias?" Harry cringed inside of himself. "And…quidditch wax."
"My my, Mr Potter! Very good nose. Anyone else?"
Students clamoured one after the other, lining up to smell the potion of love. Hermione settled in the back with Harry, raising an eyebrow.
"Petunias, Harry?"
"Shut it." He told her, cheeks pink. "I had to make something up."
"Make something up?" She questioned. "Why?"
"I couldn't smell anything." Hermione nodded slowly, eyes turning sharp. A new subject to research and learn about.
"Maybe your nose has stopped up." She told him. Harry took a deep breath in a shook his head. Allergies weren't really a problem with him. "Well, whatever it is, we'll figure it out soon."
"Yeah, hopefully."
"Now, everyone," Slughorn began again. "Turn to page thirty-seven in your book, and we'll begin!"
Opening his book, Harry stared at the words written on the inside cover.
Property of the half-blood Prince.
How odd. Anyways. Page thirty seven.
Except, almost every page was written over, covered with notes and spells, crossing out measurements and margins filled in with tiny sprawls of handwriting.
And then there were the spells.
"Now, today we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death! Instructions are in your book, you may begin!
Harry couldn't wait to start the process.
"Harry, how are you getting so much juice out of it?" Hermione asked, peaking over at his cauldron.
"Crushing them?"
"But it says to cut in the book, Harry. You aren't following instructions."
Crush the Sopophorous bean with a flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
"Oh, I guess it does. My bad." Harry told her, flipping to the next page of instructions as he moved to stirring.
"Harry, stop turning it that way!
Add one clockwise turn after every 7 clockwise turn to make the potion turn white faster
"Aren't I supposed to?" Harry remarked, hiding his smile with his hair. "I'm just following the instructions."
In the end, his potion was a molten gold colour, bubbles leaping throughout it like fish. They seemed to dance upon the surface, slowly sinking into the water only to come out again later.
Safe to say, Hermione was not happy when Harry won a certain vile of Felix Felicis.
"Outstanding job, Harry! May I call you that?"
"Of course, sir!"
"Wonderful! Say, I may be bringing back a certain club of mine, you may not have heard of it…"
"The Slug Club, sir?" Harry questioned, a bubble building up in his throat.
"Absolutely right Harry! Now, if I am able to bring it around, I would love to have you as a part of it, what do you say?"
"I would love to, sir!"
Harry hated how well he lied.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" Slughorn applauded him, rubbing his shoulder. "I'll let you know of our first meeting." After a pause, Harry replied.
"Can't wait!"
"Harry, you should give this back to Professor Slughorn, maybe he'll order you a new one. It's not right to keep this." Hermione told him. "It gives you an advantage over other students."
"Don't listen to her, mate." Ron told him, settling next to him on the Gryffindor couch. "She's just upset you're doing better then her at Potions."
"Ronald! I am not!" She told him, scoffing when he started laughing. "It's just not right!"
"I mean, I think it's pretty cool, do you know who wrote it?" Neville asked, reaching over to grab the book from Harry. Harry tensed for a second, reluctantly passing it over to his friend.
"Some Half Blood Prince seemed to like fancy titles I guess."
"Wow, this really is good information." Neville muttered as he flicked through the pages, passing the book back to Harry. "It's even got herbology notes in there! Good score, Harry."
"It's not a good score, he needs to give it back."
"Don't be a killjoy, 'Mione. Harry may finally be good in potions!" Hermione just groaned, returning to her own potions book, sending half-hearted glares to the group of boys.
"So uh, how are you guys?" Harry asked tentatively. After Harry had spent the night in Severus' quarters, the three boys had apologised to each other. Things were tense, but getting better. Though, they had all decided to sleep in separate beds for a while. The coping wasn't healthy, or at least that's what Hermione had said.
The circles under Nevilles eyes showed he wasn't sleeping very well.
"I'm alright, say, you'll let me look over at the notebook from time to time?"
"Of course, mate!" Harry told him. "And you, Neville? You can copy the herbology stuff from it."
"Why don't we just duplicate it? Write our names in it and such. I know I'm not taking Potions, but it's still good stuff to know."
"That works for me." Ron said with a shrug. Harry hesitated for a moment but agreed. He shouldn't hog the limelight after all. Ron and Neville both deserved resignation, even if it wasn't from the…best of sources.
"Alright, cool, wanna play exploding snap?" Ron asked.
And like that, Harry knew they would all be okay.
"Thank you for coming to meet me today Harry, how are you doing?" Dumbledore asked him. Harry just shrugged.
"Fine I guess, I started Professor Slughorn's class, which I'm doing well in. So is Ron, which is a lot of fun."
"I heard. I also heard about this Slug Club of his, both you and young mister Weasley were invited, yes?"
"Yes sir, he said me and Ron remind him of past students he had." Harry told him, relaxing in his seat.
"This is very good, Harry. It means we can set our plan in motion." Dumbeldore stood up, tapping his white wand on certain stones.
"Plan, sir?" Harry stood up, sore from that morning's quidditch practice. He should have been more active that summer, it was like he lost every amount of muscle he had gained.
"Come, Harry. I would like us to view this memory together."
Harry was sick of memories. Regardless, he walked over to Dumbeldore, letting the teacher guide his head into the pensive. It was wet, and then suddenly, he was dry, standing right next to a grinning Dumbledore and- Tom Riddle?
"Professor, if I may, I have a certain question I must ask you."
"What is it, Tom?" Slughorn questioned, putting down his quill.
"It's a bit of a touchy subject, so I do apologise if I offend you, professor. I just can't trust anyone else with this question."
"Go on then, lad."
"You see, I overheard this in the common room, and I tried to research it myself but- I don't mean to bore you with the details. Professor, what is a horcrux?"
Memory Slughorn paused, body going pale as he stared at Tom, appalled. It was like he was seeing Tom in a new light, as the devious, evil little bastard he was always meant to be.
"A terrible branch of magic Tom, and you best not research it anymore."
"But Professor-"
The memory rippled, the room acting like it was trying to shift to a new memory and not continue the one they were currently watching.
"Absolutely not, Tom. If I hear of this even once, I will take you straight to the headmaster myself!"
Tom nodded, turning around to grab his bag, his neutral smile turning into a horrifying scowl.
Harry and Dumbledore exited the memory, Harry leaving it with a gasp.
"You may not have realised, but that memory has been messed with."
"The ripple?" Harry asked, rubbing his head.
"Quite right, Harry. When I got this memory from Horace, I didn't notice it, and thought this was the whole truth."
"How was he able to mess with the memory?" Harry asked.
"Unbeknownst to me, Horace is an exceptionally skilled Occlumens." Dumbledore picked up a small orb on his desk, the ball flashing a brilliant gold and red
"Oh, so you think he still has the original memory?"
"Yes, I do, and I'd like you to be the one to retrieve it from him. I have tried myself, but he knows exactly why I am after it."
"Why are you after it?" Harry questioned, taking the orb from Dumbledore when offered. It flashed a bright purple, slowly turning to a light blue.
"To stop Voldemort." Harry paused.
"And Slughorn doesn't want to stop him?"
"On the contrary, that is all Horace wanted to do, but since he found out Voldemort is in fact is beloved student Tom Riddle, he has been less…" Dumbledore paused, thinking about his choice of words. "Up front about it. You see, Horace could never have children, it is half of the reason he became a teacher in the first place. And when a small, orphan Tom Riddle walked into his dungeons, his heart was stolen away."
"Why didn't he adopt Tom then?"
"I never knew, and I never dared ask." Dumbledore cleared his throat, taking the orb from Harry and placing it back on his desk. "Do you think you can do it?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Wonderful! And please know, you can stop it at any moment if it feels like you are going to far to get it. This is just to help us, but we do not need this memory, Harry."
"I know, sir."
"Potter, sit." Snape told him when he walked into the classroom. Harry held his tongue, not wanting to argue with the dowry man after Dumbledore dropped that excruciating task on him. It was far too…Slytherin for his tastes. He needed to befriend Slughorn, get close enough to him to be seen as someone worth wanting, then ruin that trust and get that memory. Oh boy.
This is some Tom Riddle shite. Harry thought to himself, clearing his head as he sat down in the chair. He felt a bit more confident about this meeting, having been able to start the building blocks of his mind, stacking them up around the darkest crevices of his heart and brain. Maybe he could even keep Snape out of them?
"Potter, I hear you made it into the Slugclub." Snape told him, cleaning off a scalpel. It looked intimidating, but maybe that's what the man was going for? "You and Weasley both."
"Yes."
Snape looked like he wanted to hex him for not saying sir, but continued in his tirade.
"How is it, that in my class, you and Weasley were deplorable, causing explosions left and right, not able to form a single potion for grading half the time. Then, in Slughorn's class you are both rising stars?"
"Well for starters we don't have Slytherins throwing things into our cauldron." Harry grumbled. "And second of all, I've been studying."
"Studying, Potter?" Snape asked, eyes narrowing into a glare.
"Yes! Merlin, why does everybody get that look on their face! I got an EE on my OWLS you know? And that was just on the written part! I got an O on my potion! I know what I'm doing, it's like cooking!"
"Do not compare something as trivial as cooking to the art of potions making, Potter."
"Yeah, okay." Harry grumbled, mentally rolling his eyes. "Can we start this already? I need to finish up my potions homework."
He had already finished it, but he felt like throwing that bit in to piss Snape off.
"Ready yourself, Potter."
Snape didn't even give him a chance before the man was in his mind.
Memories flashed through his mind, taking up all of his strength and concentration. Then, an Idea struck him. Pushing every memory he knew of towards the forefront of his mind, Harry tried his best to cover up those little dark area's of his mind.
Of course, Severus caught on instantly. He tore through Harry's memories like a man gone wild, like he was searching for something special, something private that only he knew about. It made Harry tense, on edge, even a little scared.
So he did the only thing he could think of. He tensed up, and watched as private memories of him and Sirius played through his head.
"You're bloody right it's not! Sticking my son with that git-" Sirius interrupted the headmaster, hands slamming onto the table.
"Snape, I'll have you know I haven't seen my Son all summer! You can bugger off, you know!"
"A blood potion would have run out if you weren't continually taking them." Sirius stated. He looked down at his Godson, and his heart broke. "Oh pup, you're still my godson, no matter what, or who your biological dad is. You are James and Lily's son, you hear me? My son. That won't ever change, Harry. Not in a million years. Even if you went up and joined Voldemort. Still have to kick your ass though."
"Sirius!" Harry shouted, hand reaching out to grasp at the man, maybe even to jump in after him. Sirius smiled down at him, and so slowly (even though only meer seconds had passed) fell into the veil.
Sirius hadn't looked so peaceful in so long. He hadn't looked so happy, even with Harry beside him.
Sirius was joining James.
Severus exited his mind with a sharp gasp, Harry bent over and clutching his head. For a moment, neither of them said anything, both breathing deeply.
"For what it's worth, Pot- Harry, I am sorry for your loss."
But Sirius had no right to claim Harry as his own.
"You're a right pompous git you know that?" Harry retorted, not even waiting for Severus to reply before stomping out of the classroom, forgetting his bag. Severus sighed, locking the classroom door and heading inside.
He really fucked up this time. Hadn't he said that a week ago too? Damn.
How was it that Sirius Black was so much better at this than him? The man was dead! Severus had followed every step in that godforsaken book he had ordered. He listened, he gave punishments for bad behaviour, he allowed him free reign-
Okay, maybe it wouldn't work with a teenager as well as a tween, but still! They were practically the same thing! Why wasn't it working? Why did Harry prefer a dead man over him!?
With a long, exhausted sigh, Severus collapsed on his bed, still in his teaching robes, and screamed into a a pillow. He needed to return Potter's stuff before lessons tomorrow.
And he still didn't find what he was searching for in the boy's mind.
Collapsing on his bed, Harry screamed into his pillow. Snape was such- just a- UGH! Harry hated that man. How could he ever think of calling him father, or dad, or anything like that? Think of him as being better? He was a fucking jerk!
"UGH!" Harry groaned, pressing the pillow into his face further. Maybe if he ceased breathing Snape would feel an ounce of remorse, pathetic arse he was.
"You good mate?" Ron asked, looking up from his quidditch magazine.
"No, I fucking hate him."
"Snape?"
"Yes." Harry replied, pressing his head into the pillow once more. Suddenly, someone knocked on their dorm door, Dean getting off the floor where he was sorting his playing cards.
"Uhm, Harry needs to come down, it's Professor Snape!" A small voice said, Harry groaning a nasty set of words as he got off the bed. He'd have taken his time going down, but he knew Snape would be even more of an arse if he took ten minutes to get down.
Exiting the common room, Harry looked up at the man.
"Potter."
"Professor."
"Your stuff."
"Oh, uhm, thanks." Harry said, taking the bag from the man. His rising anger quickly cooled, settling into guilt. Harry ignored it. "I didn't know I left it."
"Indeed. Potter?" Snape asked him.
"Yeah? I mean, yes?"
"I do apologise."
Harry stared at the man, floored. Snape was- again? What did he say?
"Uhm, yeah, me too. Sorry."
And of course, Harry fled back inside, guilt creeping its tiny tendrils up his throat