The Silver Cauldron

Row upon row of rough wooden tables. One set of glass phials between two students. A box of the basic ingredients required to make weakening potions. Students are expected to bring their own cauldrons and writing equipment.

The air in the dungeon was crisp and icy. It sharpened the senses. The soft crackle of the green candles became a roar; your eyes were aware of every slight flicker in the shadows. A sharp smell of herbs filled the air; it diffused amongst your thoughts and left you with the feeling of being plunged into freezing water. This was a room of objects, experiments, but never, never human beings. Its inhabitants were cold and inanimate; any form of life was an unwelcome intrusion. This, for me, was home.

"This is Miss Almanay. She will be helping me with classes this year. I expect each and every one of you to treat her with the respect you show to me. Potter, if you even think about causing trouble I shall personally see to it that you are held in detention for a month."

The boy in the front row with glasses and untidy hair opened his mouth to protest at this, but his friend nudged him and he thought better of it. "Today" Snape continued "we will be looking at the theory behind simpler weakening potions. You should all take precise notes and pay attention, because I will not be repeating myself for those that choose not to listen." Here he stared very hard at Neville, who looked as if he was about to cry. I felt like shoving Snape very hard. I put this out of mind almost as soon as I thought of it.

As they were scribbling down the notes, I looked around the class, trying to remember everyone's name. I saw the light-haired boy sitting at the back of the classroom. Draco Malfoy. I was sure I'd heard that name before somewhere. Malfoy... it seemed oddly familiar, as if it was a name I'd known long in the past. Neville was writing furiously, desperately trying to copy down every word Snape spoke. I had an awful feeling he wouldn't be able to read any of it by the time he came to the practical. Then there was the other boy - Harry Potter. Of course, I already knew a lot about him, and from what Dumbledore had told me, he possessed powers that would even surprise Harry himself. His mind seemed to be elsewhere than potions at the moment, however. He was glaring at Snape with loathing, I supposed this was because Snape had singled him out earlier in the lesson. I didn't need to look at Snape to tell that this feeling was mutual.

At last everyone had finished copying down the notes and was ready to start on the practical. Snape and I wandered between the desks, checking the student's work. I wandered over to Neville, hoping against hope that he'd got it right. Neville was staring hopelessly at his pages of messy notes.

"All right there, Longbottom?" I asked.

"I can't seem to understand these notes". His voice sounded thin and tight, as if he was trying hard not to panic.

"I'll show you" I said, taking the notes from him. "Here look, you've written down that you need some powdered periwinkle, so if you add that first it should act as a catalyst and speed up the reaction between the dandelion roots and the figgsgrubble. That happens because - oh!"

A cold hand had wound itself around my waist. I lost all power of movement for a second as Snape's voice breathed venomously in my ear;

"It is no use trying to explain anything to Longbottom my dear. His skull is so thick that even the most concise of explanations cannot pierce it." My immediate reaction was to get away from Snape as quickly as possible; this invasion of my personal space made me feel distinctly nauseous. However, I saw that to do so would be unwise. Instead I took a deep breath, firmly removed myself from his grasp and answered coldly;

"I would have thought that you, of all people Professor, would consider it essential that every student fulfils his true potential."

"If Neville Longbottom has any potential he has not displayed it during the five years he has been at this school." Snape hissed angrily. "Longbottom, you are a failure aren't you? Aren't you a failure?" Neville looked terrified. "Y..yes sir" he squeaked.

"That's not fair!" I was outraged.

"Miss Alamanay, I believe it is I, not you, who is in control of this class. I have taught here for more years than I care to remember and I scarcely need remind you that you have been here for two days. I beg you not to criticise my teaching the minute you walk in through the door."

"But..."

"SILENCE!"

I felt very angry - how dare he speak to me like that? But it was not prudent to argue with him in front of the class. I turned away and continued silently walking between the rows of desks, my face burning. The expression on his face had frightened me; it was not anger but a calculating look. As if he was testing me. Testing my boundaries. Unbidden, the words of Madame Hooch came back to me; "Likes to exercise his power over people...mind games". Mind games. He was trying to get a reaction out of me. I wasn't going to give anything away.

Needless to say, Longbottom's potion was a disaster. Snape took five points form Gryffindor for his ''abysmal concoction'. I felt as if I was watching this through bars. Unable to intervene. I wanted to do something.

After the pupils had gone I hoped to speak to Professor Snape about our argument but he ignored me and swept out of the room without a word. I put away the equipment and lent on the edge of a desk, biting my lip. The lesson had not been a success. I had upset the teacher and embarrassed a pupil. And touching me in that way... what was Snape playing at? Pulling myself together, I reminded myself; 'You are here for a purpose. Your job is to fulfil that purpose'. All the same, I felt a pang of guilt over Neville. I left the classroom and went in search of the Gryffindor common room.

"Neville? Neville Longbottom! Teacher wants to see you." "Oh no..." Neville came tumbling out of a hole behind a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.

"Neville, I want to apologise for embarrassing you earlier." Neville looked as if I'd just hit him over the head with a shovel. I realised he probably hadn't been spoken to like this very often, by a teacher at any rate.

"You didn't. I know I'm hopeless at potions and so does everyone else."

"Neville, you're not hopeless. You mustn't let that...Professor Snape put you off." I had to remind myself not to speak ill of my college.

"I am hopeless. I can't even make a simple shrinking potion." I smiled a little in spite of myself. Shrinking potions only required three ingredients.

"Neville, would it help you if I was to give you a few extra lessons? We could go over the things you don't understand."

"Oh, thanks miss. I don't know if it'll help much though."

"Thursday lunchtimes OK for you?"

"I think so."

"Good. Oh, and Neville, I'd be grateful if you didn't mention this to Professor Snape. He might be a little..."

"Angry?"

"Yes".

I returned to the dungeon and began to set up the things for the next class. When Snape stormed in a few minutes later he acknowledged my presence with a nod and began to re - tidy all the things I'd laid out with a pedantic exactness. Ten minutes into the next lesson he had taken four points from Ravenclaw and terrified a Hufflepuff girl almost into tears. He was in such a foul mood I said nothing all lesson and fervently prayed he wouldn't find out about my help to Neville. What would he do if he found out? Judging by my new college's behaviour so far, something nasty.