Jami Evans and the Sorcerer's Stone - Year 1

Potions Class

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. 

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity. Not to mention he also has a sister as well..." He shot me a nasty look. 

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began . He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. I slumped further in my seat, trying to avoid Snape's beady stare. Grease-head. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. 

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

"Which Potter, sir?" I called out and the Gryffindors snickered. Snape shot me a dirty look but said nothing. 

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." I called out without raising my hand and the dungeon fell silent. 

"Well, she is a Potter, sir." Malfoy spoke from the corner of his mouth to Snape. 

Snape stared hard at me, his face turning into an even more unpleasant scowl. "Do you by chance take more after your father or mother, Miss Potter?" He asked. 

"I don't know, Snivellus, sir. But if I had the option, I'd say I take after Dad." I smirked. A few people gasped at the nickname I had used on him. 

"True that." James whispered in my ear. I looked around for his spirit but didn't see him. 

Snape's lip curled. "Detention, Potter." 

"Yay." I grinned, hearing my dad's chuckle behind me.