The Witch's Daughter: Book 1| The Sea of Stone

Chapter 16| The First Potions Class

“Mrroew,” came from around Andrea's ankles. She looked down, a dust-colored, scrawny cat with yellow lamp-like eyes gazed up at her.

“Hello, Mrs. Norris,” she replied to the cat's greeting. “Are the Weasley twins at it again?” The cat blinked. “Ah, I see. Well, you know they don't mean anything by it.” Mrs. Norris wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I know that makes more work for you guys. Yes, I do think that's too harsh; hanging them from the ceiling by their ankles, honestly.” Harry and Ron came up behind her, panting from their run from the previous class.

“Andrea, we'd better head down to the dungeons,” Ron said, eying Mrs. Norris warily. “What're you doing with the cat? You'd better be careful, that thing might have fleas.”

Mrs. Norris spat on him, and stalked away, her tail in the air. Her departure clearly said, 'I have better things to do than listen to your complaining.'

The bell rang, “We'd better hurry.”

Down in the dungeons, Professor Snape took roll call. He paused at Harry’s name.

In a soft voice that carried through the silence he said, “Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity.”

He turned to the rest of the class. Andrea thought his eyes looked cold and dark, like staring through an endless, black tunnel.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect that you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . .

“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death— if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Andrea snorted. She’d been brewing potions her entire life. There was little this greasy haired potions master could throw at her that she couldn’t handle.

“Potter!” Snape snapped suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry looked positively baffled. “I-I don’t know, sir.” He glanced at Hermione who had her hand in the air.

“Tut, tut—clearly fame isn’t everything,” Snape continued in a cold voice. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

By Harry’s face, Andrea could tell he had no idea what a bezoar was. Which was absolutely ridiculus, a bezoar is one of the most important potion ingredients for poisons and antidotes. But why was Snape being so hard on him?

“I don’t know.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter? One last time, what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Next to Andrea, Hermione stood up, her arm quivering, but she was still ignored.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied quietly, “I think Hermione does though, why don’t you try her?”

Andrea chuckled with the rest of the class, but it was immediately silenced by Snape as he swept a piercing glare through the room.

“Sit down. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat; it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you writing that down? A point from Gryffindor for cheek, Potter.”

In the pause for parchment and quills, Andrea raised her hand. Snape glared at her for a moment, sighed, and said, “Miss De Luca, I believe I asked you to copy down some valuable information that will no doubt turn up on a test”—the scurry for quills quickened—“What is so important that you would interrupt this?”

“It’s about the questions you were asking Harry, sir.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, if we already knew everything, especially in potions, we wouldn’t be here. We are here to learn, aren't we? And if you expect us to know everything, and don't teach us anything, then wouldn’t that qualify you as an unsuitable teacher? I think you should just give everyone a fair chance and not pick favorites, or least favorites.”

In the shocked silence that followed, Snape’s cold, empty eyes seemed to pierce her very soul, surprisingly the corner of his mouth twitched once--only once.

“Unfortunately, Miss De Luca, it is my opinion that matters here, not yours. But since you seem to be so knowledgeable; what can unicorn horns be used for?”

“They can be ground and used in various potions, it can also be boiled and used for healing, but it isn’t as good as nectar,” Andrea replied, much to the surprise of the rest of the class.

“What is the properties of moonlace?” Snape continued.

“If picked at the proper time, it can be steeped in tea to cure most ailments.”

The questions continued, getter more difficult until even Hermione looked stumped, but Andrea answered them immediately. Finally, Snape stopped.

“I think we've wasted enough time here,” he glared at Andrea. “Very well, divide yourselves into pairs. We will be mixing up a very simple, beginner's potion to cure boils. The instructions are on the board, you may begin.” Obediently, everyone started weighing dried nettles to add to stewed slugs and crushed snake fangs.

The end of class couldn't come soon enough. Neville somehow made his cauldron melt, spilling his potion all over the classroom; and Harry was somehow blamed for it, losing two points overall for Gryffindor.

An hour later, on the way out of potions, Harry complained, “Why does Snape hate me so much?”

“Cheer up,” Ron told him, “He's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come meet Hagrid with you?” Harry had gotten a letter at breakfast asking him to come down that afternoon for tea.

“Coming with us, Andrea?” Harry asked as he and Ron headed toward the portrait.

“Er—No thanks—lot's to do—got a letter to write,” she replied hastily.

“To who?” Ron asked.

“To whom,” Andrea corrected. “A letter to my grandmother.”

“Well,” she continued with a forced smile, “have fun.” She pushed past them ans headed off toward the library as fast as she could while still walking.

Harry turned to Ron, “Did any of that seem fishy to you?”

Ron shrugged, “Dunno, Hagrid does seem pretty intimidating. Maybe she's scared.”

Harry let the subject drop. But he had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the case. Andrea didn't seem like theype to be easily scared . . . of anything.