Slytherin Adoption

Potions

After breakfast, in which they'd received their timetables, Harry followed Draco to their first class. He wasn't sure what class it was, since he couldn't read the timetable, but as they started to go further and further into the dungeons, Harry started feeling anxious. According to Draco, only one class was held down there, Potions, which Draco's Godfather, Severus Snape, taught. The same man who was their Head of House and who seemed to hate him more than Uncle Vernon, and that was saying something.

          He was proven correct when, just as they were taking their seats, the door slammed open and Professor Snape glided into the room, his robes billowing behind him. When he got to the front, he slowly turned and started talking.

          "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began, his voice soft but as the room was silent, they could clearly hear every word. 
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect 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, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone)

          At the end of his little speech, he looked around the room before his eyes landed on Harry, who was sitting next to Draco and listening to every word. The man stared at him for a long moment, his face unreadable, before he looked around the room once more.

          "Well, why aren't you all writing this down?" The previously silent classroom was suddenly filled with noise as the students scrambled for parchment and quills. Harry just sat there, not sure what to do, as he didn't have any supplies and even if he did, he certainly wouldn't have been able to write any notes.

          "Potter!" Harry was so startled, he knocked over Draco's full bottle of ink as he jerked and looked up at the professor with wide eyes. "Do you think that you are above everyone else?"

          "N...no, s...sir," Harry whispered. Snape stalked over to where he and Draco were sitting, causing the boy to tremble in fear.

          "Then why aren't you taking notes?" He waved his wand to clean up the ink and leaned closer. "You're just like your father," he hissed. "He too thought he was above the rules." Harry felt a rush of anger, the likes of which he'd never felt before. He raised his eyes and looked straight at Snape.

          "Whatever my father did to you, it wasn't my fault," the boy said quietly but clearly, not even realizing he wasn't stuttering. "I am not my father, no matter how much I may look like him." It was completely silent for a moment and then Harry's eyes widened as his hand flew to his mouth as he realized what he'd just done. He'd just talked back to a teacher. "I...I'm sorry, s...sir." His stutter was back but again, Harry didn't notice as he jumped to his feet and ran, leaving behind a worried Draco and a classroom full of stunned students.

          Draco had been silent during the whole conversation but he glared at Severus as Harry ran out of the classroom. The man just raised an eyebrow an eyebrow and walked back to the front.

          "Read the first chapter and write a two foot essay summarizing the two potions and their uses by next class." He sat at his desk, clearly dismissing the students. Draco waited until everyone left before slowly approaching his Godfather.

          "Why?" Severus raised an eyebrow at the vague question. "Why do you have to be so mean? Why do you hate him so much?" Severus sighed.

          "Don't you have class?" he asked wearily. Draco stared at him defiantly before walking over to where he'd left his bag and picking it up, slinging it over his shoulder. At the door, he turned back.

          "This conversation isn't over." Then he was gone.

          After Harry left the classroom, he realized he had no idea where his next class was located, or even what it was, so he ran to the Slytherin Common Room, tears still falling down his cheeks. He went over to the same armchair he occupied that morning and curled up. After a while, the tears stopped and he just stared into the crackling fire.

          At some point, one of the Slytherin Prefects, Gemma Farley if he remembered correctly from the night before, wrapped a blanket around his tiny frame but other than that, no one bothered him.

          Why did Professor Snape hate him so much? Was he still a freak, even in the Wizarding World? He started absentmindedly playing with the sleeves of the robes Draco had borrowed him that morning. He'd also insisted on giving Harry his extra school uniform to wear until Harry was able to get his own.

          "No friend of mine will be seen wearing those rags you call clothes," he'd said, ignoring all of Harry's protests. Eventually, Harry had just accepted them and had gone back upstairs to change.

          The portrait door opened, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. He gave a slight smile when he saw Draco enter. The blonde looked around before finally seeing him and making his way over.

          "I was hoping you'd come here," Draco said as he stopped in front of the raven-haired boy. "You ready to go to Transfiguration?" Harry took a deep breath and nodded. After all, it had to be better than Potions, right?