Day With No End

1. A Very Bad Day

"Neville, watch--ahh!"

Harry tripped over Neville's books as the other boy's bag flew into his knees. He hit the cold dungeon floor with a dull thud, the Slytherin students' laughter echoing in his ears and down the corridor.

The fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were waiting outside Snape's classroom before Double Potions. Harry had already had a bad day. Between Umbridge and the animosity of his fellow students, he was thoroughly miserable. He hadn't been looking forward to Potions at all. Because of his detentions with Umbridge, he hadn't finished his latest essay, and he was expecting the worst from Snape.

Now the Slytherins had pulled a prank on Neville, charming a string to be nearly invisible, then stretching it across the hallway for him to trip upon. Harry had only just figured out what they were up to.

The door to the classroom opened with a clang, and the greasy Potions Master stepped out. Harry glared at him as he picked himself off the floor with Ron's aid.

Snape eyed the scene before him with a sneer. Neville was standing, held up by Hermione. "Being clumsy again, Longbottom? Five points from Gryffindor for being an unwelcome distraction in the learning environment."

"We weren't even in class!" Harry snapped without thinking.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Thank you for pointing that out, Mr. Potter. Class is now starting one minute late. Another ten points."

Fuming, Harry stormed into the dungeon, wishing for the day to end. It was only one in the afternoon.

"If you will pass forward your essays, please..."

Harry scowled and looked down, desperately avoiding Snape's gaze. Hopefully he would be able to turn in a good potion today to try and make up his grade.

"If you didn't do the assigned essay, you will have a very hard time in today's lesson," Snape said silkily as he placed the essays on his desk. Harry winced, preparing for his certain doom. "You must understand the role of each ingredient, particularly the flax. You will note that the procedure for the Cleaning Solution does not specify how much flax you need to use, only that you must use it."

At this, Hermione let out a small gasp and began to flip through her textbook, looking to see if Snape was right.

"The amount you use will determine the strength of the solution," Snape continued. "Too little will make your potion useless, too much will render your potion unusable. If there are any accidents in here today brewing a simple cleaning draught, I will be most displeased." His eyes lingered on Neville, who gulped. "Begin."

It wasn't too difficult of a potion, Harry thought as he stirred. Most of it was straightforward, until he came to the step involving flax. He snuck a look over at Hermione, but she had already added hers, and her potion was exactly the pale green described in the book. Ron had crushed a few leaves and was now adding them. Harry decided to go with three small leaves and hope for the best.

The class worked in silence, the only sound in the dungeon the hissing steam from the potions. A few minutes later, an arresting smell entered Harry's nose.

"What is this, Longbottom?"

Harry looked around at Neville, who was sporting a scrape on his cheek from falling earlier. Neville seemed too petrified to speak.

"How much flax did you use, Longbottom?" Snape asked softly.

Neville stared into his potion, which resembled dark green sludge. "Three leaves, sir."

Harry gulped and turned back to his own cauldron. His didn't look quite as perfect as Hermione's, but it wasn't that dark, either.

Snape chuckled darkly. "That should be the perfect amount...if you want to melt the glass from the window you're trying to clean." Harry cringed, regarding his potion with caution now. "Your ineptitude never fails to amaze me."

Neville looked miserable. Snape continued, "Five years you've been in this class, five years you've failed every single lesson...it's a wonder you haven't been expelled..."

"Leave him alone," Harry said.

Snape rounded on him. "What was that, Potter?"

"I said leave him alone. Sir."

"Why--"

Snape never had the chance to finish his thought, for Neville's cauldron chose that particular moment to explode.

Several students were sprayed with the boiling green mud, and the class erupted in screams. Snape managed to restore calm by placing a Freezing charm on the liquid that was oozing throughout the room, and Vanishing the rest of it.

"You three, get to the Hospital Wing," Snape barked, and Parvati, Lavender, and some Slytherin left in a hurry, covering their faces and whimpering. "And you two," he growled to Harry and Neville, "Detention. The rest of this week."

"I can't, sir," Harry said.

"And why not, Potter? Will it infringe upon your busy social life?"

"No, I've just got detention with Umbridge."

Snape's black eyes seemed to flash at the mention of the toadlike witch. "I see. You will come in after detention with her."

"But, Professor!" Harry gaped. "I usually don't get out of her detentions until midnight!"

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched. "Then I expect you'll be very tired this week, won't you?"

"You really need to stop arguing with professors, Harry," Hermione scolded him on the way to their next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Your grades are bad enough with one set of detentions."

"Wow, you think I don't know that, Hermione?" Harry burst out.

"Lay off him, Hermione," Ron said. "Snape's just a git."

"A git who doesn't sleep," Harry muttered. "I wonder if he really is a bat. Maybe he'll be more pleasant at two in the morning."

"I'm just saying, Harry, I hate when you get into so much trouble."

"Thanks for your concern, Hermione."

The three went quiet as they entered Umbridge's classroom. The simpering smile on her face did nothing to help Harry's dark mood.

"Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chorused back to her.

"Wands away, please...turn to chapter twenty, Negotiation for Nonagressors, part two. There will be no need to talk."

Harry read without looking at the useless words. He had enough to worry about without another set of detentions. Between the D.A., Occlumency lessons with Snape twice a week, and constant detentions with Umbridge, he was close to failing all of his classes.

Harry rushed to the Great Hall immediately after class in order to inhale some dinner before going to Snape's office for the first time that night. He had just sat down when Ernie Macmillan came over to the Gryffindor table.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Ernie said formally. Harry piled his plate high with mashed potatoes. "I was just wondering when the next D.A. meeting will be."

"You'll find out when everyone else does, Ernie," Harry said, shoveling food into his mouth.

"Okay, but I thought for the next meeting we could--"

"Ernie, please," Harry begged. "I need to eat before going to detention. It'll be soon, I promise."

"Oh, all right," Ernie said, backing off and looking insulted. "Have a good evening."

Harry ate as fast as he could, then looked at his watch with a groan. It was five minutes to six. He stood quickly, accidentally knocking Hermione's pumpkin juice into her lap.

"Harry!" she said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry," Harry told her. "I'm really sorry...I have to go, I'm going to be late for Snape."

"Of course," Hermione said, flustered. "Go, don't make him even angrier at you."

With this encouraging thought from Hermione, Harry half-ran down to the dungeons, until he was stopped by Cho Chang.

"Hi, Harry!" she said cheerfully. "Do you have a moment?"

Harry winced. "No, not really. I'm late for Snape."

Cho's face fell. "Oh. Okay."

"Sorry!" Harry called behind him, feeling like a prat. Feet pounding the harsh stones, he made it just in time.

"Enter," Snape's voice called before he could knock. He did so, frantically calming his breath and attempting to do the same with his mind.

Snape finished marking an essay with a large "D" before looking up at him from his desk. "Have you practiced?"

Harry stared fixedly at a jar on a shelf that appeared to contain a baby bird. "Yes," he lied.

Snape sniffed and stood up. In the dim light of the dungeon, he reminded Harry of a vampire. "Good," he said in a tone that made it clear he didn't believe him at all. "Wand at the ready, Potter."

Harry drew his wand and took a breath, trying to clear his mind.

"Legilimens!" Snape shouted.

At first the candlelight on the dank stones of the walls managed to stay in focus, but soon enough the office swam away....He was four and alone in his cupboard, rocking back and forth and crying softly... He was seven, being slapped by Uncle Vernon for being a freak again...He was twelve and being chased by a basilisk...He was in the graveyard, watching in horror as Voldemort approached him...

"No!"

The office returned, as did the situation at hand. Harry was on his knees, but to his vindictive pleasure, so was Snape.

"That was better, Potter," Snape managed as he stood up and brushed his robes off. "But I'm still getting in way too easily. Legilimens!"

Two hours of having his mind attacked later, Harry stumbled into Umbridge's office.

"You're late, Mr. Potter," Umbridge observed as Harry sat down in his usual desk.

"I'm sorry, but I had...Redemial Potions with Professor Snape," Harry told her.

Her fat face broke into a wide, disgusting smile. "Oh, really? I will have to check with Professor Snape about that. In the meantime, I guess you'll just have to stay later to make up for it."

Harry was about to burst out in anger at the injustice of this, but he held his temper in check.

"You know what to do, Potter," Umbridge said dismissively, and she began to read the Daily Prophet.

Just as Harry had told Snape earlier this horrible day, Umbridge didn't release Harry until midnight. Exhausted, sore, and with a bleeding hand wrapped in his robes, Harry made his way down to the dungeons for the third time that day.

"Good evening, Potter," Snape said softly as Harry entered his office again.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry returned stiffly. His hand throbbed unpleasantly. The low, flickering light just made him want to go to sleep.

"I trust you've had a pleasant day?" Snape said, idly flipping a page of the book he was reading.

"What do you want me to do, sir?" Harry asked impatiently.

Snape quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward over his book. His greasy hair almost touched the flame of a candle. Harry wondered if the grease would act like lighter fluid if his hair made contact with the flame. "I want you to--"

Snape's office disappeared, replaced with the dark corridor outside. Harry looked around wildly. Where did Snape go? Where did all his classmates come from?

"Ouch!"

A bag full of textbooks hit Harry soundly in the knees, and he stumbled to the ground.

The Slytherins laughed, and Ron helped Harry up. Harry continued looking around in confusion. He recognized this. All of this had happened earlier today. What was going on?

The door to Snape's classroom opened, and the greasy git stepped out, eyeing the scene with his typical sneer. "Being clumsy again, Longbottom? Five points from Gryffindor for being an unwelcome distraction in the learning environment."

Harry stared in shock and followed Ron into the room. Maybe the day had been a terrible dream, he told himself. It was one in the afternoon. If only his hand would stop bleeding.