The Serpent's Thirst

"Scar?" Ron managed to ask before a huge yawn contorted his face.

Harry slowly shook his head. "No... no, it wasn't. Just a bad dream," he croaked, staring at Ron's face. He was falling asleep on his feet, swaying slightly. Ron's eyelids drooped heavily; clearly, he was desperate to doze off again. Harry thought Ron might actually fall. "Ron!" Harry whispered, trying to wake him up from his stupor.

Ron opened his eyes and gave Harry a weak smile. "Well, I'm going to bed again," he said, wandering back across the room and nearly colliding with the post of his own four-poster.

Harry lay down, relieved that his dorm mates had gone back to sleep. He closed his eyes thinking about what he had dreamt. Flashes of the same images speeding through his mind once more.

Harry instinctively ran his fingers gently over his lightning bolt scar. It wasn't hurting. There was nothing about it that would normally have worried him. But then, he was certain that it had only been a dream.

Macnair was dead. Snape had killed him at the Muggle hospital over the summer. Harry had been taken to that same Muggle hospital after being injured at the Dursleys' home after falling from the roof of their house. Outside the range of his aunt's protection, vulnerable to attack, unable to speak due to his head injury, Harry had been an easy target. Voldemort had known this and had acted on it. Macnair had Apparated into the hospital, to carry out the attack. Snape had arrived at the same time to remove Harry to safety. But a duel had then begun.

Harry remembered that night clearly, as if it had happened only hours before. He could see it as clear as day--could see his teacher in front of him...

Harry was glad when a small sound in his tight throat brought him out of his memories and back to reality. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax, thinking back to the start of the school year.

Term had started two weeks earlier. His sixth year had started out all right. His friendship with Ron was still a bit tense. Nevertheless, they had discovered on the Hogwarts Express that they could get along despite the occasional tense moment. Ron had forgiven Harry and Hermione for breaking his heart. Harry had forgiven Ron for stabbing him at the Cottage during Voldemort's attack. It hadn't been Ron's fault; he had been under the Imperius Curse. It wasn't Ron's fault, either, that Harry's relationship with Madam Pomfrey had gone from bad to dismal; she had only let Harry go two days before, glaring at him maliciously.

Absorbing the silence, Harry took in a deep breath, his blankets pulled over him for needed warmth. The tower was immensely drafty at times and this night was one of those nights. He heard a tiny meow from the foot of his bed and opened one eye. Lilac was stealthily crawling toward him, her little paws sinking into the duvet as she made her way up the bed. He smiled when she rubbed against him affectionately in passing, her fur brushing along his entire face. Lilac sat regally on Harry's pillow, her tail swishing busily back and forth, and began nibbling on his raven hair.

"Do you really have to eat my hair?" Harry whispered, wincing as he felt a rather painful tug on his temple. "Why don't you eat a mouse or something instead?"

A squeaky meow was his only response. Lilac stopped what she was doing and slowly turned her head. She was only a kitten, a pure white Persian as talented as her father, Crookshanks, and who also had the ability to see hidden dangers. The real reason why Harry had chosen her out of Crookshanks and Persia's litter was because of her eyes. They were a translucent purple with white vertical pupils, and were hypnotic. There were times she was annoying. Despite her talents and her unique eyes, she was overly curious, and was forever getting into trouble with her sibling, Buster.

Lilac purred, staring at him innocently, then curled up into a ball. She fell asleep quickly. Harry closed his own eyes and drifted off to sleep once more.

***

Bright light entered Harry's view, and a sharp pain near his temple woke Harry up. He opened his eyes to cold sunshine, but saw not Lilac, but Buster clawing his cheek determinedly, as though Harry's face was a ball of string.

"OUCH!' Harry yelled, placing his hand over the scratch. He watched Lilac wrestle with her brother, who had escaped from Parvati, and laughed when they both fell off the bed with a thud.

"Argh ... there's too many cats this year," Seamus said, nearly stepping on the kittens on his way to the bathroom.

"I know," Harry said as he pulled on his robes. He saw no sign of Ron, and thought that Ron had probably gone off to have a shower. Harry looked around and saw Neville watering his plant and Dean pulling his blankets away.

"Morning Harry," Dean said cheerfully, stretching his arms. He was still in bed. He blinked gazing at Harry, focused on the state of his hair. "Harry? Your hair? It's the worst I've ever seen it," Dean said weakly, looking as though he was trying to hold back a laugh.

Harry walked into the bathroom and shook his head at his skinny reflection in the mirror. His hair was sticking up as though gale-force winds had whipped through his four-poster while he slept, changing directions several times during the night. He spent a good deal of time trying to flatten his hair down. But none of the solutions worked. He gave up trying and turned to his last resort -- Madam Chevelu's Frizz Free Potion.

The Potion should work, he thought to himself. Harry took out the blue-bottled Potion that Hermione had given him. He read the instructions and made sure that no one was in the bathroom with him. According to the label, it was vital that he was alone in the room so that the frizz and tangles could escape without being able to hide in anyone else's hair.

Harry lifted the bottle above his head and tilted it, until he saw a glistening drop of potion appear. It hung on the lip of the blue bottle for a moment or two, then fell onto his miserable hair.

Harry watched as the untidy black strands of his hair began to reorganise themselves, and saw the wildly dishevelled hair at the back of his head droop a little. Another drop of potion fell, making his hair look almost normal.

As the last drop began to fall from the bottle, Harry saw Lilac behind him in the mirror. He froze, the bottle still held above his head. He had seen her too late; the drop was already falling. Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut from the sight, wondering why the cat had to follow him everywhere he went.

"Lilac," he groaned.

Lilac meowed behind him. After Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself, he opened his eyes to see that Lilac's once smooth, soft fur had become a fuzzy nightmare. Lilac licked her nose, not bothered by the fact that she looked like she had been electrocuted and she trotted out of the room with her tail swishing in the air.

***

Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts classes had been nonexistent so far this term. Time was getting somewhat desperate for the students to learn, because Dumbledore had been unable to employ teachers willing to take the positions. After missing out on two weeks of lessons, Hermione was headed for a nervous breakdown.

Harry smiled at finally seeing Hermione coming down to breakfast. She was biting her nails as she sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table and helped herself to bacon and eggs. With a rather loud huff, she blew her fringe out of her eyes. "Good morning," she greeted her best friends. "Oh! I see you used the Potion, Harry. Your hair looks tame today."

"Hmm, I wouldn't say the same for my cat," Harry chortled. He watched Hermione giggle softly as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "You know I love her, but she never leaves me alone!"

"I think she's very protective of you."

"Overprotective you mean," Harry replied, correcting her.

Hermione, in a habit she had acquired since the second day of term, craned her neck over the sea of Gryffindor students and looked to the staff table in the hope that the new Potions and Defence Professors had been chosen. Again her hopes were dashed; two empty seats still divided the table. Professor McGonagall

A mischievous grin appeared on Ron's face. "Give up, Hermione," he said.

"No!" she cried. "Those subjects are so very important! We can't afford to miss any more lessons than we've missed already! They're especially important, because they're N.E.W.T. subjects."

As far as Defence was concerned, Harry thought that they would be able to defend themselves pretty well if they were ever attacked again. Harry inhaled deeply and gave Hermione a half-hearted smile. "Give it another week. If Dumbledore hasn't got a new teacher employed by then, I'll start D.A. lessons again," Harry said quietly. He saw Hermione's eyes shine brightly at him.

"I hope these new teachers - if we ever get them -" Ron thought out loud, staring at the teachers' table, "aren't as evil as that toad Umbridge, and not as much of a greasy git as Snape was."

Hermione, was not amused in the slightest. She narrowed her eyes fiercely, dropping her fork in protest. "Really, Ron! Professor Snape did save Harry's life, you know. He at least deserves respect in death!"

Harry's attention returned to his food, though his stomach clenched briefly at Hermione's words. Looking up, he watched the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. It was a cloudy day, not at all pleasant. Just looking at the dull grey, cloudy ceiling made him feel gloomy. He bowed his head when Hermione nudged him, he looked up wondering what was wrong.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and smiled. His head was held high as he surveyed each of the students seated in the Great Hall with his dazzling blue eyes. He stretched out his hands and immediately the Hall quieted. Harry and Hermione looked on and Ron turned around, still munching, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Well, I have some good news or perhaps bad news." Dumbledore smiled more broadly. "Our new Potions Mistress will start work today. She is, however, travelling here at the moment, so there will be no Potions lessons this morning. For those you who have Potions this afternoon, lessons have resumed.

"Since you all have been informed of her arrival, there will be no excuses for appearing late to lessons nor for failing to appear at all." Dumbledore paused, a twinkle appearing in his eye. A soft babble of talk broke out in the Hall.

Ron looked devastated. The news had stolen his appetite. His fork fell onto the wooden table with a small clunk. Hermione was beaming, her chin resting on her clasped hands. She looked as though she had been holding her breath. Harry didn't mind at all about Potions. What he really wanted to know was whether Dumbledore had found them a new Defence teacher. Defence Against the Dark Arts was his favourite subject, and unlike his other subjects, in Defence Harry felt he had a real knack for magic.

Harry took out his class timetable and drew his finger down Monday's column to find that the Gryffindors had Double Potions with the Slytherins that afternoon. "We've got it," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione, before Dumbledore continued speaking.

"The new Potions Mistress will address you in lessons this afternoon.

"However, I regret to inform you that as yet, we still do not have a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." Dumbledore smiled weakly.

Harry saw Professor McGonagall lean forward to speak with Dumbledore when the Headmaster sat down to finish his meal. Harry wondered what they were talking about, and for flitting moment, both the teachers' eyes gazed down Gryffindor table and at him.

***

Most of the students seemed to have forgotten about their own classes in order to get a glimpse of the new Potions Mistress. Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way into Dungeon Six where their classes would be held. The dungeon was bigger and darker, with even more gruesome objects cluttering the interior. Cobwebs covered the Gothic ceiling like draped silk, softly fluttering in the cold drafts crossing the room. Harry felt a chill and uneasily tightened his robes around himself.

Harry followed Ron and Hermione to the very back of the dungeon and seated himself, organising his things neatly while the other Gryffindors who had passed Potions, progressed into the room, chatting excitedly. The Slytherins were very gloomy, missing their Professor Snape. Draco in particular had a huge frown on his face. His back was hunched. Harry noted that Crabbe and Goyle, each having failed their Potions O.W.L., were not with Draco anymore to protect him.

"She's late," Hermione said impatiently, looking at the dungeon door.

"Yeah," Ron drawled. "Let's hope she shows up when class ends."

Hermione slapped Ron's shoulder, hitting him so hard that he had to rub his shoulder for several minutes to ease the sting. Harry simply rested his chin on his palm, waiting, ignoring the buzz of talk swirling around him.

Minutes passed slowly, but there was still no sign of the teacher. Harry began to doze off, occasionally flinching as his mind plagued him with the red and white lights of curses he had suffered.

Harry woke in a sweat, and he noticed that Hermione's warm hands had slid over the top of his.

"Good afternoon, class."

Harry looked up. The entire dungeon fell silent on hearing the greeting. A tall woman with long black hair shut the large door and proceeded smoothly to the other end of the room, books and cauldron held safely in her hands.

Every eye was upon her, scanning and judging her. Her hair was sleek and braided with green ribbon. She looked up, giving the class an opportunity to study her, and took a deep breath. The woman reminded Harry of Snape. Her skin was the same pale white. Even the way she looked at them brought back memories of their former Potions Master. Her eyes were so pale a blue that, from the back of the room, it looked as though they were completely white. Harry shivered.

The Potions Mistress pulled her wand from an inner pocket of her robe and pointed it toward the blackboard. Harry's eyes widened on seeing the name writing itself on the board. From the row in front of him, he heard Neville whimper in fear.

"Damn," Ron muttered, closing his eyes. "Another one! But much prettier."

Harry thought Ron was right about that. Another Snape for Potions. He'd never thought that Severus Snape would have had any other siblings. Of course, Harry thought, Snape's life had mostly been a secret to him, other than a few unwelcome, unhappy memories.

The Slytherins seemed to have returned to their old selves. Draco turned to the Gryffindors and sneered, catching Harry's eyes. Harry looked away scowling.

Professor Snape raised her hand for silence, because talk had engulfed the dungeon once again, and cleared her throat. "My brother told me a lot about his students. Distinguishing the brilliant minds from the most...dull." Her eyes wandered over to Neville as though to highlight her disbelief that he had received high marks on his Potions O.W.L. "And I will only say this once ... those who ignore my wishes, and those who are careless when making their brews, will be punished. These morons will never want to experience one of my punishments again," she hissed. Neville flinched. "Now, please turn to page twelve of your textbook."

Professor Snape flipped through the pages of her own book, unaware that the class hadn't done as she had instructed. They simply gaped at her as though she was a creature they had never seen before. She looked up at them all and gave them an impatient huff. "NOW!" she yelled abruptly. The class snapped to attention.

Instantly, every student turned to page twelve.