Chapter 2:

Potions Class

Snape hadn't been in a good mood when his first Potions class of the day began. By the time it was dismissed, he was ready to send the whole lot of them to detention.

The Hufflepuffs had fully met his expectations. Eager to learn, yet almost entirely incompetent. Snape had extinguished the contents of two cauldrons which had turned poisonous. The Hufflepuffs had left the dungeons with ten points taken away. Sometimes that was the only way students would learn.

Snape again asked himself why he put up with these idiots as the next class shuffled into his classroom. It was doubles, consisting of Slytherins and those Gryffindors. Snape's mood took a turn for the darker.

Next to a tall redheaded Weasley was him. Harry Potter.

Snape breathed out and kept his temper in check. He waited until everyone had settled. Then he took role call. Not that he really felt any need to do so, as he couldn't care less what the names of these children were, but it was useful when calling out a mistake to have a name to stick on it. When he reached the name of Harry Potter, he paused.

"Ah, our new… celebrity," he said slowly. There was no humour in his voice, though he heard some of the Slytherins snickering.

The boy in question almost looked embarrassed.

Snape rolled up the parchment and turned to address the class. All eyes were on him and each child was completely silent, perhaps waiting for something fearful to happen. Naturally what all the students feared the most was having points deducted and if there was any misbehavior of any sort, Snape would be sure to meet their expectations.

"You are here to learn the subtle art of potion making," Snape began coldly, with no form of greeting. "There will be no foolish wand-swishing in my class nor any other obvious signs of magic. However, being able to create the correct potion is just as important as knowing the right charm and just as powerful. There will no talking out of turn in my class. None of you are to speak unless you are spoken to. If perhaps you are less dense than the usual lot of dunderheads, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew desire and even stopper death. If you do exactly as you are told."

The chilly air was heavy with silence. Snape was sure several of the students were trying not to breath. This was the desired effect.

Snape drew his robes closer about him and studied the frightened and eager faces, all ready to prove they were not stupid, and were sure to do so anyway.

Snape's eyes rested on a lightening bolt scar on one boy's forehead.

"Potter! What would happen if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The boy's face was completely blank. He looked around desperately before replying.

"Um, I don't know, sir."

Snape felt a sneer make its way to his lips. "Well, it seems fame isn't everything, is it, Mr Potter?"

The boy's face turned red.

Snape continued to ask questions, each increasingly more difficult than the last. The boy looked more and more bewildered, his bright green eyes widening behind his glasses. He continued to answer politely to Snape's unpleasant tones, and all the while, nasty giggles were issuing from the Slytherin side, who clearly didn't like Harry Potter anymore than Snape did.

Snape was deliberately ignoring the raised hand Hermione Granger was waving in the air. Protegees were only of interest to Snape if they benefited him.

Snape challenged Harry once more with a question that every child should know the answer to by the age of five. Harry Potter didn't know the difference of monkshood and wolfsbane or that they were in fact the same plant. It seemed that Harry Potter didn't know anything.

Snape almost felt a strange pang of sympathy, but lost it the next moment.

"Why don't you ask Hermione, Professor?" Harry asked innocently, yet with a slight tone of defiance that only increased Snape's dislike.

When Neville Longbottom not only melted a cauldron, but also sent a foul-smelling green potion streaming over the floor, Snape finally lost his temper. Neville was sent up to the hospital wing covered in red boils without the least amount of pity from Snape. Only an idiot would misread the instructions.

Harry Potter had been right next to Neville when the explosion had occurred. Harry got the brunt of Snape's acidity.

"You should have told Longbottom to take the cauldron off the fire first, Potter," Snape growled. "You have eyes, don't you? Or did you wish to make him look bad compared to yourself?"

Harry opened his mouth.

"Don't even try, Potter. You just lost a point for Gryffindor thanks to your selfishness."

The boy stared up at him in shock. Snape knew he was being unfair, but he didn't retract his words. He turned away.

"That wasn't right," Snape heard Hermione Granger mutter in dismay.

"Don't provoke him. I hear he can turn nasty," Ron Weasley whispered. At least there was one Weasley with with some sense in his brain. Snape wouldn't have given the whole family that much credit.

Snape spent the rest of the lesson keeping a close eye on everything, criticizing every little thing the students did, even if it was correct, and making them dislike the class as much as he did. He also deducted another point from Gryffindor when he caught Harry whispering to Weasley.

"Not another word or you will find yourself in detention."

The boy instantly buried himself in making his potion and didn't look up for the rest of the hour. When all the cauldrons were cleaned and the supplies put away, the students left the dungeons for their next class.

As Harry Potter scuttled out, Snape caught a glimpse of tears glistening on his face. Somewhere where his heart was, Snape felt a twinge of guilt. He was too angry to care.

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