A/N: Man this was a particular fun, but long chapter to write, and my original plan was to have it go on for even longer, but it looks like I got to a good stopping point. Hope you're enjoying the story so far! And I've really loved reading all your reviews! I really appreciate all the support.
Chapter 6: The Potions Master
Harry had never in his life felt so full when he finally put down his fork and watched in amazement as Astoria put down yet another half-rack of ribs. How someone with such a small, almost dainty frame could eat that much was a mystery to him, and for a moment, Harry wondered if he was being pranked, looking Astoria up and down or some sort of explanation.
Astoria paused, dabbed her mouth with a napkin and gave a faint smile, "Um, what are you doing?"
"Trying to figure out how you can still be eating," Harry said honestly.
Astoria went a bit red, adding another empty plate to the stack in front of her. "It's not a trick, I just, uh, I get hungry when I'm nervous."
Harry raised his eyebrows, adding his own half-full plate onto Astoria's pile. "I'm not judging you, just… impressed, I guess. I thought for sure you had some kinda vanishing bag or something." Harry shook his head with amusement, "But you really are something else."
Astoria laughed softly, the sound cutting through the lively chatter that filled the Gryffindor table. Harry couldn't help himself, and let himself tune into the conversations around him. Most were pretty light-hearted. Simple conversation about the start of term or their slate of classes, but every once in a while, Harry would hear the word 'dementor' and feel as if the creature's bony hands were tracing his spine.
"That dementor attack sure was something," Astoria said, seemingly listening in on the same conversation being held by a few older girls nearby. "Daphne was beyond angry when she figured out what was going on. She started shoving chocolate down our mouths like no tomorrow. I don't want to think about what I would've done if she wasn't there."
"Same here," Harry admitted. "I was caught totally off guard. If Corner hadn't shoved that chocolate frog in my mouth, I'd have passed out." Harry scowled at the thought of the cloaked creatures.
More to himself, Harry whispered. "If only things hadn't gotten so busy, I'm sure I could've asked Remus to teach me the Patronus charm."
"Who's Remus?" Astoria asked.
"No one, nosy," Harry said playfully, leaning to rest his head on the table. "Just one of those teachers Dumbledore mentioned earlier."
"I'm so full," Harry groaned, changing the subject. "I definitely overate."
"I'm sure we'll probably be heading up to the common room soon," Astoria said, scanning the tables. "It looks like dinner is wrapping up soon."
Just then, Harry made out the sound of quickly approaching footsteps and moments later, Harry pinched his nose at the loud groan of the Great Hall's door being pushed open. All chatter among the students immediately quieted, their eyes now uniformly fixated upon the entrance.
A small group of figures stood silhouetted in the doorway, but one was instantly unmistakable. He'd seen his face on more pages of the Daily Prophet than he could count and was typically attached to quotes that could only be considered nonsense by a reasonable mind.
Wearing one of what Harry assumed to be his many pinstriped green robes and bowler hat, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge entered the hall, looking around as if expecting applause. Which, of course, never came.
Beside him stood a tall and imposing figure. With a dark complexion and hawk-like eyes, the man scanned the room as if searching for a mouse from above the clouds. The final member of the minister's posey was yet another unfamiliar face. Dripping in pink, and with a toad-like face, Harry wondered if he'd ever seen a person more visually disturbing than the witch before him. But it was her eyes that bothered Harry the most, this condescending look in them that seemed to say that nobody in that room from student to staff was quite as important as her.
The whispers that had rippled through the hall earlier now evolved into a low murmur and through it Harry made out the names Delores Umbridge and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The first only confirming his dislike of the woman, as Remus had cursed her name aloud more times than Harry could count. The second one, however, intrigued him. Tonks had spoken highly about auror Shacklebolt, and Harry had the impression that Tonks was about right on the money with that analysis. Kingsley looked, in every way, what Harry imagined a high-ranking auror to look like.
Harry sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing slightly as the trio made their way toward the staff table, where Dumbledore now stood to greet them. From his distance, Harry couldn't make out what was being said by either, but Harry doubted it was anything good from the tight form of Fudge's posture.
Breaking from Dumbledore, Fudge turned and gestured for the room to be silent. "Students, students," Fudge began, his voice oily and full of what he likely thought was charm. "I'm here to address the events that happened earlier today. I've heard there was quite an... incident on the Hogwarts Express on your journey to school this year. Something about a Dementor...?"
Harry exchanged a look with Michael, who rolled his eyes but kept quiet.
Fudge cleared his throat, adjusting his bowler hat as though it were a crown. "Now, let me first assure you that we are taking this matter very seriously. Very seriously indeed. As Minister of Magic, it is my duty to ensure the safety of all witches and wizards in this country, especially our children."
"However, it is likely that perhaps, the Dementors boarded the train due to students bringing to school items that they shouldn't, and they acted only as they knew how," Fudge offered.
Does he know what Dementors do? Harry wondered in disbelief, trying to digest Fudge's explanation.
"As a precaution, a team of aurors have already searched your bag and confiscated any items we believe might have enticed the dementors," Fudge said, pausing, as if waiting for an applause. He was met only by a sea of glaring eyes and a shared outburst from Fred and George. "Now, now," Fudge said. "Any items deemed inappropriate for school, but not dangerous, were simply returned to your family. No harm done, but whilst the dementors are about, I strongly suggest that each and every one of you abide by both ministry and Hogwarts guidelines to ensure you remain safe."
"Make no mistake, however," Fudge said proudly, puffing out his chest. "We have already spoken with the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts, and I have made it abundantly clear that no attacks on students will be tolerated. After all, they're here to protect you."
"Some protection," muttered Harry beneath his breath.
"I'm really starting to see why Daphne thinks this man is an idiot," Astoria agreed.
"Furthermore," Fudge continued, "any further... misunderstandings will be dealt with swiftly and efficiently. You have my word as Minister."
Harry could hear the murmurs spreading through the hall, growing louder in volume, most still livid about the unauthorized search of their bags. Behind the Minister, Kingsley stood with an unreadable expression, but Umbridge simply continued to smile, her hands clasped together in front of her as though she were witnessing something adorable.
"I will personally oversee the situation to ensure that Hogwarts remains a safe and secure environment for all students," Fudge finished with a grand gesture, waiting once more for an applause that was never coming.
Dumbledore, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward then. "I am confident that Hogwarts remains the safest place for our students, Cornelius. And your... presence here is much appreciated."
Fudge nodded, clearly satisfied with himself. Though just as Fudge seemed ready to leave, Umbridge cleared her throat with a delicate cough.
"I do hope," she began, her voice high-pitched and syrupy, "that the students will understand the importance of following Ministry guidelines. We are, after all, here to help."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fudge on the other hand, beamed at Umbridge as if she were a prized possession. "Well, I think that should settle things. I trust there will be no more... mishaps."
Fudge gave one last self-important nod before turning back toward the doors. "Oh yes, and do have yourselves a fantastic term. I hope to see many of your faces one day in my ministry."
With that, the trio exited the hall, leaving behind a thoroughly unimpressed room if the lack of fanfare was any indication.
The silence stretched on for a few more seconds before Dumbledore clapped his hands, drawing the students' attention back to him.
"Now," he said with a warm smile, "let us not dwell on that. I believe it is almost time for us to head to our dormitories for a good night's rest. But before I do, I have two final announcements."
"As you know, our matron, Madam Pomfrey, became quite overworked, and while she has tremendous help," Dumbledore said, his eyes drifting over to Daphne who, to Harry's surprise, smiled nervously, "could no doubt use another set of hands. As such, I'd like to introduce you all to my good friend, Malachi Fensoul, a renowned wizard in the field of medical magic in his home country of France. Please give him a warm welcome and do not hesitate to introduce yourself to him should you see him around the castle. And secondly, our caretaker Argus Filtch has asked me to express upon you all that the third-floor east corridor is strictly off-limits to any of you who'd like to avoid a painful death."
What? Harry though, but Dumbledore had moved forward as if what he said was as sensible as some stating water to be wet.
"And now," Dumbledore said, after taking a quick sip of water, "Prefects, if you'd be so kind as to escort our students to their dormitories. We all have a very busy day ahead of us tomorrow morning."
For a moment, the hall became a cacophony of rushed conversations before a handful of older students from all the tables began to stand, waiting for attention before starting their instructions. To Harry's dismay, Percy Weasley was one of those who stood for the Gryffindors.
"Alright, first years and transfers, follow me!" Percy said, puffing out his chest so that his badge could be clearly seen. "Form a line, no shoving," Percy ordered, his eyes scanning the students, "I am not the type who is afraid of taking points from my own house."
As Harry stood, looking like a sore thumb amongst the bobbing heads of the newly sorted first years, he found himself side by side with Michael who'd started his own departure from the Ravenclaw table.
"Some speech from Fudge, huh?" Michael said, smirking. "Looks like the Ministry's got everything under control."
"Oh yeah," Harry said, sarcastically, "I'm sure they have everything handled."
"Well," Michael yawned, "It's certainly turning out to be an interesting year. Don't remember a time where the Minister himself made an appearance at Hogwarts."
"He didn't come last year?" Harry asked. "I though, after what happened, that he'd-"
"Nope," Michael said, popping the 'p', "If I were to guess as to why he's here now. I'd say it has to do with the fact he doesn't want the Boy-Who-Lived with a poor opinion of him."
"Too late for that," Harry said, thinking of the numerous pieces in which Fudge had given his unsolicited opinions of his parents' deaths and his theories behind them, specifically regarding the involvement of one Sirius Black in the nature of Harry's disappearance.
"Unfortunately," Harry sighed, "I doubt it will be the last I see of him this year."
"Alright Gryffindors!" Percy shouted, "This way please!"
Harry waved a quick goodbye to Micheal before being marched out with Percy's procession of Gryffindors from the Great Hall and into the massive stone corridors. The castle was pleasantly cool and smelled of wet stone and freshly mowed grass. Wax candles flickered in their scones along the wall, keeping the way lit as Percy navigated the new Gryffindors through the maze-like halls and up the moving staircases.
Ghost floated lazily through walls, making a few of the muggle-born first years cry out in horror, due to which they were chastised by a few sleeping portraits who'd they woken, which didn't help much in calming anyone of their nerves.
Harry, who'd never been lauded for his tremendous sense of direction, had been managing to remember the way up until the stairs had pulled a 180. Deciding it best to simply try to remember the way tomorrow instead, allowed his eyes to wander, seeing one of the many suits of armor lift their arm in salute. Harry simply returned the gesture, and allowed the armor to fall back into a relaxed position.
It was only once they'd reached a rather large portrait of a plump woman dressed in a pink silk gown atop one of Hogwarts' many towers, that they finally stopped.
The Fat Lady, Harry assumed.
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow at the group, her voice lilting as she spoke, "Password?"
Percy cleared his throat, "Caput Draconis."
"Exactly right!" The portrait said merrily, swinging open with a low creak, revealing a hole which led into a huge room.
The room was warm and inviting with high ceilings and arched windows that overlooked the grounds. A roaring fire crackled in the massive stone hearth, casting a golden glow over the room. Comfortable armchairs and sofas were scattered about, and Harry watched as the first years moved about looking for what they hoped to claim as their new spot.
Harry's eyes flickered around the room, a smile building across his face. Mom, dad, I'm here. He couldn't stop himself from wondering, where in the expansive room, his parents had sat, or where Sirius, his father, and Remus had all studied, or more likely, plotted together for the days ahead. Even amongst the chaos of the dashing first years, Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him completely.
"Welcome to the Gryffindor common room," Percy announced, clearly proud of his role. "This is where you'll spend your time outside of classes. The boys' dormitories are up the stairs to the left, girls' to the right. No going up the opposite side, there's enchantments to prevent that—and before you ask, no I've never tried."
Harry chortled slightly, watching the hand of a curious first year dip back into the crowd. A few students snickered, but Harry's attention was already drifting. He glanced around, noticing Astoria had left his side and was now standing awkwardly near the fireplace, her eyes transfixed on the flickering flames.
Harry walked over, his hands tucked into his pockets and leaned over her shoulder, making her jump, "Not bad, huh?"
"Merlin's Beard!" Astoria hissed, turning quickly, reaching out to him to regain her balance. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
Harry gave the girl a half-smile. "I can almost see the gears turning in your head. Stop overthinking so much, you'll fit in just fine."
"But what if I-" Astoria started.
"Stop thinking like that," Harry said, warmly . "It might take some time, but things will work out. Trust me."
Astoria blinked, the blank stare on her face morphing slowly into the faintest smile. "That's the spirit," Harry said. "Now, I think we should probably head to our dormitories and check our bags. I can't wait to see the mess Fudge made out of mine."
"Yeah," Astoria said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that sounds good."
Once the first years had scurried up to their dormitories and the stairway was less cluttered, Harry made his way up to the door that read, Third Year Boy's Dormitory, and pushed it open. The dormitory was a cozy, circular room with five four-poster beds draped in deep red and gold hangings. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room. It would have felt incredibly inviting, if it hadn't been for the four open trunks sprawled on the beds with belongings strewn everywhere as if the room had been struck by a tornado.
One of the trunks in the room, however, remained completely untouched, and to Harry's surprise, it happened to be his own. He strode over, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the envelope resting atop his trunk, its edges pristine and pressed with a thick wax seal, the emblem of the Ministry of Magic printed upon it.
"Of course," Harry muttered. "What a surprise."
Tearing the seal open, Harry pulled loose the letter and unfolded it. The note was handwritten, with calligraphy so beautiful that if Harry wasn't so irritated, he may have been forced to admire it. Its contents, however, were far less admirable.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I trust this letter finds you well as you settle into Hogwarts for what is sure to be an exciting new chapter of your magical education. Let me take this opportunity to extend my personal congratulations on your return to the wizarding world after so many years away.
It has come to my attention that you have been living with certain... influences, and I admit to being quite curious about your whereabouts over the past several years. I would be most pleased if you would consider meeting with me at your earliest convenience, as I am quite eager to discuss your future here at Hogwarts, and beyond.
In addition, I hope that the security measures I have implemented this year at Hogwarts—including the Dementor patrols—are giving you peace of mind. I, myself, have great confidence in the protection these measures provide and hope that you feel safer upon your return to our world.
Do not hesitate to reach out if there is anything I can do to make your time here at Hogwarts more comfortable. I look forward to speaking with you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
Minister of Magic
Harry's eyes rolled so hard, he was concerned they might fall out of his head. Harry quickly crumpled the letter, and made his way down the staircase to burn it. The common room was fuller than before, now filled with students pilling in from the Great Hall. Most were talking, some were reading or playing chess, but Harry's eyes instantly locked back on Astoria, finding her face to face with the red-headed Ron Weasley.
"Move it, snake," came Ron's voice, loud enough for half the room to hear. He was standing in front of one of the armchairs by the fire, glaring at Astoria who'd been reading quietly. "That's my spot."
Astoria turned, looking around the room before facing Ron again, her posture stiff as a board apart from her legs that were shaking slightly. "I," Astoria started, clearing her throat, "I didn't realize this was your spot."
"It's for Gryffindors," Ron said pointedly, crossing his arms. "Not for snakes pretending to be lions. So move, go sit on the floor or something."
Harry's jaw clenched. Pushing his way through the circle of Gryffindors now watching curiously to see what would happen next. What's your problem, Weasley?" he asked, his voice sharp. "I get the sense that you're pretty dense, but I'm sure the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor, same as all of us."
Ron turned, surprise flashing across his face as he saw Harry approach. "Yeah, well, she's still a Greengrass," he muttered. "Everyone knows what that family's like. It's in her blood."
"I personally never put much stock in the importance of blood relations," Harry replied. "It doesn't look like the hat does either."
Astoria glanced up at Harry, gathering her book and motioning to stand. Harry shot out his arm, stopping her. "Don't get up unless you want to. You're a Gryffindor like the rest of us, you can sit where you want."
Stepping past Ron, Harry pulled the crumpled note and tossed it into the fire. With all eyes on him, he wasn't surprised it didn't go unnoticed. "What you burning there?" Ron said accusingly. "Got something to hide?"
"Yeah actually," Harry shrugged. "Your girlfriend wrote me a love letter. Didn't want to start the year off with us having bad blood, but it seems there's nothing that can be done about that."
"I don't have a girlfriend," Ron spat.
"Wow, I can't imagine that," Harry said, allowing his jaw to drop open. "A great guy like you who tries to pick on first-years, I can't understand why every girl in this school isn't just fighting for your attention at all times."
Ron's face reddened as Seamus and another boy, tall and with short, curly, black hair, sitting nearby, exchanged glances, holding back chuckles. It looked to Harry as if Ron was reaching for his wand, but Harry had already drawn his, the tip of it pointed in Ron's direction. "I really wouldn't think about it if I were you," Harry said.
A collective gasp filled the room, but Harry did nothing, his eyes lingered on Ron's hand, waiting to see what came next. To his surprise, Ron withdrew his hand and stepped back toward the two Gryffindor boys behind him.
"Whatever," Ron huffed. "You're not worth it."
The crackling fire filled the silence for a moment. Harry didn't take his eyes off Ron until he moved to a seat across the common room. Satisfied that he could evade a sneak attack from Ron's new distance, Harry turned back to Astoria. She was curled into a tight ball on the chair, hugging her book tight to her chest.
"You alright?" he asked her quietly.
Astoria's shoulders sagged slightly, her grip on her book loosening in her arms. "I'm fine." she said softly, "Thank you, for standing up for me again."
"No problem," Harry said with a shrug. "It's what friends do, right?"
Astoria gave him a small, watery smile. "Yeah, I guess so." Slowly pushing herself to her feet, Astoria began collecting her things. "But, it's getting kind of late, isn't it? I think I'm gonna head off to bed."
Harry nodded, moving into Astoria's vacated seat. "Alright, I'll see you at breakfast then. Night, Short Stack."
Astoria did her best attempt at a sneer that couldn't have frightened a puppy before relaxing her face, her eyes softening. "Goodnight, Harry."
The next morning, Harry woke early to the sound of Loki's faint footsteps moving across the dormitory floor. The room was still dim, but the soft light of dawn crept through the windows told him it was about time to get up. He stretched and dressed quickly, pondering the possibility of appropriately wearing his uniform today, but only for a moment before ruffling his hair, slipping on his robes, and heading down to the common room.
As he descended the stairs, he spotted Astoria sitting by the fireplace, her hands straightening her tie for what Harry assumed to be the hundredth time this morning. She looked up when she heard him approach, offering him a small, tentative smile.
"Morning," Harry said, "Should I even ask if you're ready for breakfast?"
"Ready?" Astoria chuckled. "I'm absolutely starving."
They walked together down the winding corridors, the castle still quiet in the early morning hours. As they descended the final set of stairs leading to the Great Hall, Harry noticed a few students already seated at the long tables, filling their plates with steaming porridge and bacon.
Harry quickly motioned to do the same, the seating situation far less complicated due to the lack of Gryffindors, most of whom were still asleep. They had barely sat down when a tall, familiar figure appeared at the end of the table. Professor McGonagall, strode toward them, her hands cluttered with a stack of finely pressed parchment. She stopped beside Harry and Astoria, her sharp eyes flicking between them as her finger combed through the pile.
"Ah here they are," Professor McGonagall said. "Your schedules for the year. Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Potter. Do be sure to try and win Gryffindor some points today, and please do not get yourselves into any trouble."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he unrolled his schedule, scanning the list of classes.
As his eyes moved down the parchment, something caught his attention. Near the bottom of the page, written in Dumbledore's elegant script, were the words:
Special Lessons with Professor Dumbledore – Tuesdays and Thursdays at 7 PM.
Harry's eyebrows rose slightly. He'd expected the lessons to be more common, given they'd taken the spot of two electives, but brushed the thought aside as a more pressing one entered his mind. He tucked the schedule into his robe pocket and glanced up at McGonagall.
"Professor, I just wanted to say thanks," Harry began, his eyes flickering from side to side to ensure nobody was listening in. "For, you know... helping with the Dementor on the train."
Professor McGonagall hadn't let the remark linger for even a second before waving it away. "No need for thanks, Mr. Potter. I was simply doing my duty. You'll find the staff here are quite capable of handling such situations."
"Right, of course," Harry said with an easy grin.
McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning her attention to Astoria. "Miss Greengrass, if you need any assistance adjusting to life in Gryffindor, do let me know. I expect great things from my students, and that includes you."
Astoria, clearly a little taken aback by the direct attention, nodded quickly. "Yes, Professor. Thank you."
With another sharp nod, McGonagall turned and strode away to distribute schedules to the other Gryffindor students who were slowly beginning to enter.
Once she was out of earshot, Harry turned to Astoria, "Well, she's just like I imagined from the stories I'd heard about her."
"Yeah, I think she's the transfiguration professor," Astoria said. "Daphne always spoke highly of her in her letters home. I wonder what her class will be like?"
As Harry and Astoria finished their breakfast, the noise of the Great Hall gradually increased. It wasn't long until the hall was just as packed as it had been the night before, with students chatting, cheering and groaning at their list and order of the classes printed on their schedules.
Harry was about to take his final bite of toast when he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him. "Hey, Potter!" Michael appeared at the end of the Gryffindor table, his blue hair sticking out in the sea of red trimmed cloaks. "You get your schedule yet?"
"Yup," Harry said, pulling his out, and waving it in his face.
Michael leaned casually on the edge of the table, holding up his own schedule. "Just had a look at my timetable. Looks like we've got double potions first thing today. Lucky us."
Astoria glanced at Harry, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Double potions, first thing? That's… intense."
Harry pulled out his own schedule and scanned it. Sure enough, in bold print near the top, there it was: Double Potions – Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – Professor Severus Snape.
"Great," Harry muttered, folding his schedule back and pocketing it. "Just what I needed—double potions with Snivelous to kick off my first day."
Before Michael could respond, they heard a groan from further down the table. Ron, who had just received his own schedule, was clutching it in both hands as if it had personally offended him. "Double potions with Snape?" he complained loudly, his expression hot with anger. "Why does it have to be potions first thing? Snape hates Gryffindors, we're gonna be in negative house points before we even get to third period."
"Well," Harry said with a shrug, "Guess there's nothing we can do about it. But boy am I sure he'll be thrilled to see me."
"What makes you say that?" Astoria asked.
"Call it an instinct," Harry replied, clearing the crumbs of his shirt before standing."Well, at least it's with the Ravenclaws. Maybe we'll get lucky, and Snape won't be in too foul a mood today."
"There's a better chance of pig's flying," Michael snorted. "Significantly better."
"Yeah," Harry yawned loudly, "You're probably right, but I guess we'll see." Harry turned his eyes down to Astoria's schedule noting her first period to be charms. "Well, we should probably start making our way down to the dungeons then. Let me know how charms goes today, okay?"
Astoria nodded, and Harry leaned forward, taking his bag from the bench seat before waving Astoria goodbye.
"Well," Harry said, meeting Corner's eyes. "Guess it's time to make a first impression."
The dungeons were even colder than Harry had expected. The stone walls seemed to trap the dampness in the air, and the torches lining the hallway flickered weakly providing only the faintest light to navigate by. In the darkness, Harry had to confess that it was only thanks to Michael that he'd managed to find the doorway to the classroom without a struggle.
The classroom, much like the corridor, was dimly lit, and was filled with rows of tables lined with cauldrons, glass vials, and dusty potion ingredients. It was the hooked nosed Professor Snape who met Harry and the rest of the students just beyond the threshold of his door. Waiting for the exact moment that he could close the door, he allowed it to slam shut, and moved to the front of the room, his black robes sweeping behind him as if he were an oversized bat in a cave.
Harry took his seat beside Michael, watching as Snape's cold, dark eyes flicked over the students until they landed on Harry and lingered unblinkingly.
"So," Snape began, his voice dripping with disdain, "after thirteen years, our new celebrity has finally decided to grace us with his presence."
Harry worked to keep his expression as blank as he could. Undeterred, Snape continued. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, do you think your fame will exempt you from the consequences of any subpar tutelage you may have engaged in during your absence? Or perhaps, you may have even deluded yourself into believing you may even be deserving of 'special' treatment."
Harry met Snape's gaze steadily. "Not at all, Professor."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Let's test that, shall we? What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry recognized the question immediately, noting it as the base of a potion far beyond a third-year's level of expected knowledge. At least, that is what Slughorn had told him.
"You'd get the base for the Draught of Living Death, sir," he answered calmly.
Snape's lip twitched. "Correct. And tell me, what is the primary ingredient in a potion to cure boils?"
Harry didn't miss a beat. "Crushed snake fangs."
Snape's expression darkened slightly. "It appears your tutor was capable of filling your no doubt over inflated head with some information. Snape said, his voice tight. "But tell me, Potter, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat," Harry answered, his voice still steady. "It's an antidote to most poisons."
Snape's sneer deepened. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "it seems our famous celebrity is not as dense as one might suspect. But don't let it get to your head, Potter. I'll still be keeping a close eye on you."
"I look forward to it," Harry said evenly.
"I look forward to it, sir," Snape corrected.
"You don't have to call me sir, Professor."
There was a beat of stunned silence. Harry could see Michael fighting to suppress a grin beside him from the corner of his eye. Snape's jaw tightened, his scowl deepening to a level Harry didn't think was previously possible.
"Detention, Potter," Snape hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Arrogance is not a virtue." Harry stared defiantly into Snape's knife-like stare, forcing himself not to blink. "You're so much like your father. He, too, thought himself above everyone else. Believed he was better than others. We'll see if I can't correct that behavior."
Harry felt the tug of a smile pulling on his lips. "It's sad, Professor, how ugly of a thing jealousy can be. But, I'm sure my mother would be proud of how your life turned out."
"Two detentions, you'll be serving with me now, Potter," Snape snarled. "And fifty points from Gryffindor. Another word, and I'll take a hundred more."
The silence that followed was thick with tension. Harry could feel the icy stares of his fellow Gryffindors lingering on the back of his head, but refused to lower his eyes from Snape.
It was Snape who broke eye contact first, pulling free his wand and swishing it so that instructions appeared magically upon the board at the front of the class. "We will begin our class today, by allowing me to see how much you managed to retain from our previous year's instruction. You have the remainder of the period to brew a satisfactory Swelling Solution. You may begin."
The class set off to work, but Harry didn't move, his stare still fixed upon Snape. Michael nudged him, breaking his concentration, and heard Michael's whispered voice say. "Do you guys have a history or something? I've never seen him come down on anyone, even other Gryffindors like that?"
"A history?" Harry thought about that for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I guess you can say that."
"Figured," Michael said. "I'll give it to you, you handled that better than I probably would. But, just wondering, you fancy getting back at him?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"
Michael smirked, nodding toward the potion ingredients in front of them. "The swelling solution isn't exactly complicated, but I saw last year from a kid named Neville, that if we mess with the stirring technique and adjust the heat, we can rig it to blow up in his face. Want to give it a go?"
"A chance to shrink Snape's big head," Harry smirked. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."
Harry had never found it easier to work with anyone than he did with Michael, the two moving quickly, exchanging whispered comments as they carefully parted from the given instructions. It was soon after that Snape had begun making his rounds, and Harry couldn't say he was surprised that his and Michael's cauldron had been the first on Snape's list.
"And exactly what potion am I looking at? Snape asked, his eyes narrowing as he peered into their cauldron.
Michael gave the potion one final stir. "A swelling solution, sir. Made just as your instructions said, Professor."
Snape studied the color of their cauldron's contents with a knitted brow. "If you followed my instructions as you said, Mr. Corner, perhaps you can explain to me why your solution is green rather than the deep yellow it is supposed to-"
Harry flicked the heat beneath the cauldron with the quickest swish of his wand, and watched as the potion began to bubble violently. The surface hissed and frothed before, with a loud bang, it exploded, sending a cloud of sticky, pale smoke into the air.
Snape recoiled as the potion splattered across his robes and face. The room fell into stunned silence, everyone waiting for Snape's inevitable outburst. Snape jumped quickly to his feet, racing to his cupboard and pulling free a vial, downing it's contents just as Harry swore he saw the faintest shrinking of Snape's large nose.
Michael and Harry had both broken into laughter that slowly spread through the class despite the other students' best effort to remain composed.
"Mr. Corner," Snape snarled, wiping the potion from his robes, "Seeing as you and Potter both found this mishap so very amusing, how about you join him during his detentions. And fifty points will be taken from Ravenclaw for you utter disregard for my instructions"
"Of course, professor," Michael said, trying to gain a handle on his laughter. "Sorry about that."
Michael's eyes flickered toward Harry's, still wet with tears. "Worth it,' he whispered.
"Definitely," Harry agreed.
"Clean your stations," Snape growled. "You're all dismissed."
As they began cleaning up the mess, Harry noticed a girl with bushy brown hair at the next table, glaring at them.
"You two are unbelievable," she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "Do you even realize how many points you've lost for your houses? Ravenclaw can't afford this, Corner!"
Michael leaned back, smirking. "Relax, Granger. We'll win them back."
Hermione's face tightened in frustration. "You're impossible."
She turned and stormed off, huffing and grumbling beneath her breath all the way out of the classroom.
"She seems delightful," Harry said.
Michael shrugged. "Who, Hermione? Nah, she's not that bad. She just thinks she's just got a lot to prove."
"It's all from her being a muggleborn if I were to guess," Michael said, pulling his bag over his shoulder. "Between you and me though, it's mostly self-inflicted at this point. Even the pureblood snobs at this school probably know in their heart she's the best in our year. I bet it eats Malfoy up inside every night."
Harry laughed, amused at the thought of Draco Malfoy cursing the bushy-haired girl before bed like it was some sort of prayer. "What do you have next?" Harry asked.
"Oh me, I've got divination," Michael said. "Might take a nap or something, the whole subject's sort of a wash to be honest. What about you?"
Harry pulled loose his schedule and studied it, a pair of icy-blue eyes materializing in his mind as he read the finely printed timetable. "Looks like I got Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins."
"Man, your luck really is horrible," Michael snickered.
"You know what," Harry said, brightly, "I actually have a feeling it might not be so bad. Though, it looks like it's starting soon, I should probably get moving. See you at lunch, yeah?"
"Yeah," Michael nodded. "Good luck, Potter."
"And have yourself a nice nap, Corner," Harry returned before the two split, finally out from the damp corridor of the dark dungeon.
A/N: The friendship between Michael and Harry is really important to the emotion of the original story. While I'm trying to avoid making it the edgefest 3000 the originals turned into, I still wanted to show how the two had each other's backs and I'd really like to hear your thoughts on how it all played out. Let me know with a review, and don't forget to favorite and follow the story if you haven't already.