Sometimes Bad is Good

Chapter Thirteen

"You shall be brewing the Draught of Living Death, a potion so named for its ability to render the drinker in a deathly slumber that lasts for an indefinite amount of time," said Snape in his droning voice, tapping his wand on the large and slightly chipped blackboard behind him. The words 'Draught of Living Death' spread across the top in Snape's characteristic spider-like writing, and a list of ingredients and steps scrawled beneath it. "You must exercise extreme caution when attempting to brew such a delicate and dangerous potion and let me be clear that any foolishness will result in severe . . . repercussions that will leave permanent damage," he continued in a dark and silky voice.

Harry ignored the urge to shuffle uncomfortably in his seat and instead focused on the writing on the board, only keeping an ear out for what Snape said in case it was important. He just knew that Hermione would be inwardly berating him right now.

"You will be assessed under examination conditions, that is there is to be no; help, cheating or speaking to one another. Failure to comply with what I have set is to be rewarded with a weeks detention, beginning tonight in my office at nine O'clock. Am I understood?" Snape added, glaring down at them all with fierce black eyes.

He received mumbled agreements, Harry being the loudest as he'd almost forgotten to say anything at all. Recipe well and truly ingrained in his mind, Harry was ready to begin brewing.

Snape's upper lip curled. "If there is anything in this recipe that proves to be problematic to you or to those around you inform me immediately, and don't touch it," he said, sneering as lightly as he could while under the scrutiny of the guardian's gathered at the back of the room. Harry was only slightly relieved to have Hermione and Ron, the Weasley's and the Lupin's in the room with him, the only reason being that Snape had no way of marking him down for the stupidest of things. But that was about it.

"You may begin."

Harry stayed in his seat and waited for the other four to get their fill of the ingredients, knowing that it was quite possible to be squashed on the way there, before leaving his bench. His eyes located the necessary items stacked in the large storage cupboard on his way passed the others, they were slightly mussed up from everyone grabbing at them, but they seemed to be in good condition. Snape stared balefully at him as he passed, but he paid no heed to the dark eyes. They didn't affect him as much as they used to.

When his hands were full and positively overflowing with the ingredients, he returned to his bench, setting everything carefully side by side and in the order of use to his right. He filled his cauldron with water from a tap -not a wand, he'd realized that mistake when trying to brew his Dreamless Sleep potions and they'd turned out less than effective- and started the fire underneath it. So far so good.

"Harry, you could have saved time by using your wand to put the water in!" Whispered Hermione desperately from behind him, but Harry ignored her. She knew what Snape had said and the threat he'd issued them, so why was she trying to get him in trouble?

The only way to keep himself focused on his potion and not on his friend's backward advice was to ignore her, which was only slightly hard to do. He could feel Snape's beady black eyes watching him from where he sat at the front desk, and just knew that he'd be using this to get him in detention. It was absolute bollocks.

But at least the potion was reacting as it should and it was actually quite easy in most parts. It was almost a walk in the park compared to Remus' Wolfsbane potion. He was really quite lucky.

Unfortunately, his luck was not shared with everyone else. Theodore Knott's potion looked on the verge of exploding - his panicky hands adding in every solution in reach whenever it bubbled dangerously, and Blaise's potion was three shades off of the described color. However, it was poor Ernie that had it the worst, his potion was completely unsalvageable; it was a charred black color - way off from the color needed for this stage and gurgled thickly and sloppily in the almost melted cauldron he was using. He was nearly as bad as Neville Longbottom, though Ernie didn't make his cauldron explode thankfully.