A Maze of Dreams

Chapter Seven:

We all walked in the cold, dark, dungeon room slowly, all of us visibly riddled with apprehension. When every student, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, arrived in the room, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. The Slytherins acted like we didn't exist in their pureblooded world. We, the Gryffindors treated them as if they had the plague. This old rivalry has been going on for centuries and it's worked for us so far. It's like the old muggle saying: "If it ain't broke don't fix it." And at the present moment I had no intention of fixing anything.

I was seated next to Hermione, someone that I knew would be an extraordinarily formidable potions partner. After all, she was more than formidable in everything else. We were seated in the second row, with Harry and Ron sitting right behind us. To my far left, the Devil's spawn himself, Malfoy, was in my line of view only a row ahead.

The class chattered loudly, some nervously voicing their fears and others proclaiming their fake bravery (cough. Slytherins. Cough.) Our outbursts were made silent as the dark professor himself burst inside the dreary dungeon classroom. The door slammed with a bang causing even the best of us Gryffindors to flinch. "There will be no wand waving or silly incantations in this class," Professor Snape sharply said.

Not much for greetings, that Snape... At least Professor Mcgonagall tried to impress us, transforming from the form of a cat at the beginning of her lesson. Snape impressed us in a starkly different way.

He snarkily continued, expressing his deep belief that only a treasured few of us would truly grasp the art of potion making. He pointedly looked at Malfoy and the rest of the snakes as he said this, clearly showing favoritism. To us, he sneered. It was obvious that he would never take the time to truly get to know us and assess our brewing ability due to the great feud.

After a few moments of his short rant, he noticed Harry quietly taking notes. His lip curled and he began his tirade. "Mr. Potter. Our..new...celebrity." Snape's disgust and dislike for Harry was evident. "Tell me," he said, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry just shrugged sadly, but Hermione clearly knew the answer, something I couldn't remember.

Snape just ignored Hermione and continued. "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione and I both knew that one, and we both desperately hoped that Snape would spare Harry and start plaguing us with questions.

Harry could only repeat 'I don't know sir.' To this and the following questions.

Finally Snape just sneered and said: "Clearly fame isn't everything, is it Mr. Potter?"

The lesson continued on, and every Gryffindor from that moment on loathed the devious Professor Snape.

The Slytherins were pampered through the rest of the dreadfully long double potions class and we did no brewing, as it was only an 'introductory' lesson. Overall it was awful. And as the joyous bell signaled for the long awaited lunch, we sighed in relief and poured out of the dreary room. As I was on my way out, Crabbe or Goyle, (I could never remember who was who) rudely rushed past me sending me colliding into the stone wall right near the door. It hurt, but it wasn't too bad. Malfoy glanced back at me as he exited the doorway, the emotions on his face unreadable. Still he went out all the same and I stared daggers into his back. Harry, being the good friend he was, helped me up and swung his arm around my shoulder for support. He insisted that I see Madam Pomfrey, but I refused, not wanting to look weak and also not needing it as Crabbe/Goyle had the strength of a child.

Hermione walked on my other side, her arm linked in mine, and we happily went down to lunch, content to forget about Malfoy, his cronies, and the awful Professor Snape.