Moonlight » Harry Potter

Three

         
I stumbled tiredly into my second class of the day, a double period of Potions with Snape. My first period, History of Magic, had been, as usual, a bore. And I, as usual, had slept through its entirety.

I yawned as I followed Ron, Hermione, and Harry to their usual seats; I usually sat near a group of more talkative Gryffindors, keeping to myself and making it through the period by completing the assignment and not talking to anyone.

It's a relief to sit with people I think I actually like, I thought as I sat down. The door to the room slammed closed just then, and the class, which had been a bit talkative up to that point, fell silent.

Professor Snape, as he made his way swiftly to the head of the room, began explaining the importance of our O.W.L exams, which we would all be taking at the end of this year. As if we weren't already worried. He talked about how many of us would have to drop his class, and how a select few would not, and how high his expectations were for the class despite the "moronic" behavior of some.

"Today," he went on, "we will be making a formula called the Draught of Peace. It's purpose is to calm anxiety and agitation. But be careful; the concoction must be just right; if you are too heavy with the ingredients, the drinker falls into a deep sleep. Too light, and it doesn't work. The directions are on the board—" with a flick of his wand, a list of instructions appeared on the board, and Snape turned back to face the class—"Begin."

I looked at the board, then at my empty cauldron. Better get started.

I began adding ingredients, paying special attention to every single word on the board, reading and rereading before actually adding anything.

"You should be nearing step four by now," Snape called our. "Silver mist should be rising from the potion."

I looked around the room; almost no one had gotten it right so far. Hermione, however, sat in front of a cauldron that shone with silver mist, and as Snape walked by and scowled at Ron but said nothing to her, I realized that she had actually gotten it right. Snape was satisfied.

Snape stopped in front of me and looked down into my cauldron with dismay.

"Can you be bothered to work a little faster, Blanchard? You should've passed step two eons ago."

I gulped. "I was being careful."

Snape grunted. "Indeed you were. Hurry it up before you're kicked out. In this class, you will be productive."

I nodded solemnly as he swept away. He stopped to criticize Harry as well, but I heard not a word he said, as I had immediately made myself busy with the potion.

An hour and a half later, Snape's voice pierced through the room as students worked feverishly to complete their potions. "That's all the time we have, fill a flagon with your potion and bring it up here. Homework: 12 inches on the properties of moonstone."

I filled a flagon with the concoction, made correctly, I hoped. I stared at it. Maybe Snape should drink it; his agitation was awfully high today. The Draught of Peace would be just the thing for that. Then I looked at Ron's, which emitted a rotten scent and looked like something you'd find in a swamp. Maybe Snape should drink that instead.

I walked up to Snape's desk, and as I did so, a blonde, tall, Slytherin boy by the name of Draco Malfoy slammed into me. The flagon fell to the floor, lid popping open, its contents spilling onto the floor, letting off a barely visible vapor. My heart sunk.

"Watch where you're going, Blanchard!" Malfoy scowled, reaching around me and putting his own flagon on Snape's desk. "Here you are, Professor," he said proudly. "The Draught of Peace."

Snape didn't seem to notice Malfoy though; too busy staring at me, a frown tugging at his lips. When I looked up in shame, he looked as though he'd just eaten a whole lemon.

"For heaven's sake, Blanchard, watch where you're going next time. Evanesco." I sighed in disappointment as my spilled potion disappeared.

"What a pity. Looks like you and Potter here will both take a failing grade on this assignment," he said, inclining his head toward the door. It was only then that I realized Harry had been standing at the door, waiting for me as the rest of the class had filed out.

Harry's cheek muscles tightened in anger, but he said nothing.

Snape turned back to me. "Are you going to stand here until the sun sets? You have another class."

"Right, sorry," I muttered, speed-walking back to my seat to retrieve my bag. Without another glance in Snape's direction, I slung it over my shoulder and walked out.

Harry fell into step beside me as we left the room. "Malfoy's rotten."

"Snape's even worse," I said.

"They're both awful."

"They could use a gallon each of the Draught of Peace."

"How right you are," Harry said, laughing. I looked at him. Behind his glasses, there his green eyes sat, smiling at me once again. I tried not to stare; as I'd heard, they really were pretty. Prettier than I'd heard, even. Shimmering and bright, like two emeralds. He was lucky to have such a beautiful feature.

I turned away after just long enough to not make the moment weird and awkward. I didn't want him to think I was staring, which I technically was, but not at him as a whole. Just at his eyes. His gorgeous eyes.

"What happened to yours anyway? Snape said something about you taking a fail," I inquired.

"I missed a step," he told me as we rounded a corner. "The potion was wrong. You saw Ron's, didn't you? And Neville's? Snape didn't dispose of theirs. He just hates me."

I sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged as we entered the Great Hall for lunch. I spotted Ron and Hermione at the spot I had taken with them and Harry at the Start-of-Term Feast.

"There's Hermione and Ron." Harry grabbed my wrist, tugging me along the Gryffindor table until we'd reached them. We sat down.

"I'm sorry you dropped your potion," Hermione said to me.

I shrugged, helping myself to a chicken drumstick.

"She didn't just drop it, Hermione," Harry corrected. "Everyone saw that it was Malfoy."

"Rotten luck, in any case," Hermione replied.

"And yours too, Harry," Ron said, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "That was so unfair. You saw Goyle's, didn't you?"

"It was so terrible," Hermione added, "that his robes caught fire when he put it into a flagon."

"Since when has fairness to me even so much as crossed Snape's tiny little mind?"

The other two looked at each other, at a loss. Harry was not wrong.

"Well, as bad as that went, we still have Divination next," Harry said.

"I don't," Hermione and I said.

"What do you have?" She asked me.

"Ancient Runes."

"Me too. Have you tried Divination?"

"Yeah, for like a week," I informed her. "I dropped it. The professor is kind of a nut, if you ask me."

"You're certainly not wrong," Harry said.

"I dropped the class third year," Hermione told me.

"I tried taking it last. Didn't work."

The bell rang then, and we all stood up to go to class. "Trelawney's probably got us doing something like smelling each other's breath and telling what their grade in transfiguration will be after OWLs," Harry said.

"I don't doubt it," Ron agreed.

Once out of the Great Hall, we parted ways; Harry and Ron headed for the tower in which Divination took place; Hermione and I set out en route to Ancient Runes. But studying ancient runes were the last thing on my mind; after that class came Defense Against the Dark Arts with the new professor.