Potioneer potter

Ch8

Dear Mr Potter,

I regret to inform you that due to the language and behaviour you have exhibited, you will be serving two nights of detention with Professor Severus Snape, on Monday (today) and Tuesday (tomorrow). This must take precedence over any prearranged clubs, meetings, and detentions, due to the time sensitive nature of the punishment that will be given.

I am particularly fond of fizzing whizzbees this term,

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore

It appeared that Snape stuck to his word and Harry glanced up at the staff table to try and convey his gratitude, but Dumbledore seemed to be deep in conversation with McGonagall, and Snape was scowling darkly into his porridge. Across the hall, Malfoy was chatting to a fellow slytherin who Harry thought might be Blaise Zabini but he wasn't entirely sure. During their weekly potions sessions, Harry and Malfoy had come to an amicable acquaintanceship and often talked about various happenings around the school to pass the time. Most recently, Malfoy had been telling Harry about his friends Blaise, Pansy, and Theo and in return had listened to tales about Harry's lesser-known friends Neville, Luna, and Ginny.

"-and then we would be able to- Harry? Harry have you been listening to a single word I've said?"

"Sorry 'mione, sorry." Harry gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm listening now, what were you saying?"

"I was saying that Ron and I have agreed that this would be a really helpful thing for everyone, we're just not going to learn anything with Umbridge this year and we need to stay prepared for what's to come. All you'll have to do is turn up; we'll sort out the rest. Please Harry, it would mean so much."

Hermione had broached the idea to Harry last night: he would use his supposedly extensive knowledge of charms, curses, and spells to help a select group of student's study for their defence exams and be over all more trained than they had the chance of being with Umbridge as their teacher. He wasn't sure what he apparently knew that everyone else didn't and he was pretty sure that they all hated him for getting Cedric killed but he eventually decided to agree to it, not least of all because Ron and Hermione had finally agreed on something, and that is something for the history books.

"Yes alright, fine, what do I need to do?"

"All you need to do is be at the Hog's head at 11 on the next Hogsmead trip. Ron and I will spread the word and sort out all the rest."

As Harry rose from his seat, to make his way to the first lesson: care of magical creatures, Hermione turned to talk to Ginny who seemed to be the only one to give at least a sympathetic ear to the struggles and rights violations of hogwarts' house elves.

As Halloween had come and gone, and the harsh bite of the November cold was here to stay, Harry tried his best to sustain a warming charm, while wrapping his scarf around himself as tightly as he could, making sure to cover his nose and mouth as well and inevitably inhaled the scent of his top quality broom polish. As soon as he realised that nobody was around, he pocketed his wand and allowed the warming charm to drop. As he had been reading his most recent library book suggested to him by the librarian (he was beginning to understand Hermione's fondness for Madame Pince who always seemed to know which book would interest him next), he had seen a section on wandless magic and it had theorised that the basis for it was needing a powerful enough intent. Standing on the side of a Scottish hill in the depths of winter, Harry hoped that he would be able to gather enough intent before he either contracted hypothermia, or his fingers fell off from frostbite. He held out his palm in front of him, flat, and facing the sky. He imagined the fierce heat and the bright flame and stated loud and clear:

"Incendio"

The tiniest spark made an appearance for no more than a millisecond before it faded but it was enough to give Harry some hope. Relighting the flame in his mind's eye, he imagined the sound, heat, and sight of it, focussing on how it would fight away the cold that seeped into his bones.

"Incendio"

A small flame, no bigger than those from a candle, hovered above his palm. He stared at it in wonder for the few seconds that it remained and then watched proudly as he let it flicker out. A few footsteps and a hefty slap on the back were the only warning Harry got before he was carried away with Ron and some fellow gryffindors.

"Come on mate, what are you doing just standing there? It's bloody freezing out here and I'll bet Professor GrubbilyPlank has some blankets or something."

Harry nodded and the group walked as quickly as they could down to the currently uninhabited hut where Hagrid would usually live, ready for their lesson. He glanced over briefly at a group of slytherins that he was beginning to recognise, and Malfoy gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement but looked away as a dark-haired girl to his left made a comment about the lesson.

Later that day, Harry stood in front of the door that led to Snape's office. He had arrived 5 minutes early as he did not want to be late but did not want to seem too eager so watched those 5 minutes tick away until knocking on the door at the last second.

"Enter"

Harry entered. Snape was sat behind his desk and looked to be marking a class' essays. He had moved a table into his field of view and on it, was a cauldron, a chopping board, and several knives.

"You may brew a potion of your choosing, fifth year only please, don't be picking the easy way out. You may use any ingredients or equipment found in those cupboards," he waved his hand to some corner behind Harry, "I will be here if you are in need of assistance but be warned: I will not do well with unnecessary interruptions. You may leave once you have bottled your potion and handed it in. Please begin."

As Snape had returned to his marking, Harry set his bag down, shrugged off his robes, rolled up the sleeves of his white school shirt, and began to flick through his potions textbook. He quickly landed on the draught of peace as although it looked fairly difficult, he thought it might be able to help relieve some of his nightmares. After collecting the necessary ingredients, he carried them over to his table and began to prepare them, making sure to check that none of them had any time sensitive affects. He made sure to take his time on every step, stirring slowly, adding ingredients in as small amounts as possible, to ensure he achieved the exact colouration before moving on. There were several times where he added either more or added less of an ingredient than was suggested but Harry tried his best to stay confident and go with the flow. Once he reached the section where the potion had to be left to simmer, he turned down the heat and eventually, it turned a clear, flawless white and much to Harry's amazement, emitted the faint silvery vapour that signalled a correctly brewed batch. He turned to collect a vial but when he returned, he found Snape peering into the cauldron and, out of instinct, Harry prepared to be insulted and told to re brew it.

"Draught of peace, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting choice. Well, unless you have need of a vial for yourself, I should ask you to leave the rest in the cauldron, I dare say Madame Pomfrey will be most pleased."

Swallowing down his shock, Harry filled his own vial, pocketed it, and left the office, pausing only once to give a very hesitant, "thank you, sir", to which he received a curt nod.

His detention the next day happened much the same and, although he brewed the potion for dreamless sleep this time, he was once again asked to leave the vibrant purple liquid for Madame Pomfrey to use. As he turned to leave once again, Snape spoke with a level of nostalgia and emotion that Harry didn't think possible for him.

"You brew much like your mother did, you know, she was the best in her class."

Harry merely stared at him, eyes wide, and his mouth open, so Snape continued.

"You are free to use classroom 3 for brewing whenever you wish, the more of Lily there is in you, the better the world will be."

Harry felt as if he had swallowed needles and was sure he would sob if he tried to speak. He nodded his head and left with the new knowledge that his mother had enjoyed potions while also wondering whether Snape's tea had a little more than just leaves in it.