Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Chapter Eight - The Potions Master

Everywhere Harry went people whispered and pointed his way. Harry did his best to smile politely at the obvious stares, and showed his scar without complaint when asked. Annoying as this was, it also became very useful, as Harry and Ron were attempting to find their way to their classes. Hogwarts was quite literally a constantly changing maze. There were hundreds of staircases, many of which led to different places altogether depending on what mood it happened to be in. There were doors that weren't doors but walls that were pretending, and walls that weren't walls but floors that wanted a change of pace. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and the suits of armour refused to stand guard. When they were lost all they had to do was wait for an older student to approach Harry and ask to see his scar and they had their personal guide to whatever classroom they were in search of.

The ghosts - once the shock had worn off - were also a great source of assistance. Sir Nicky was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, and the Hufflepuff ghost - the Fat Friar - always had a shortcut up his sleeve for late students.

Peeves on the other hands, was a constant source of torment. When caught unaware, he would turn wastebaskets over the students heads, pull rugs out from under them, or use chalk to write dirty words on the backs of their black school robes.

Worse than Peeves, or at the very least, equally horrid, was the caretaker Argus Filch, who was constantly monitoring the halls in search of rule-breaking and other infractions. He owned a cat named Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust coloured creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone and would dash off to find Filch at the first sign of rule-breaking. Filch, who knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone save perhaps the wondrous Weasley twins, would appear a second later, wheezing and ready with detention slips.

Luckily for Harry and Ron, they had managed, on their very first morning, to get on the good side of that scrawny little cat. It was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good swift kick, and that seemed just the scene that Harry and Ron, hopelessly lost, walked in on. Three, third or fourth year Slytherin girls had cornered Mrs Norris in the hallway a mischievous staircase had deposited them in. One of the girls - detention slip in hand - reared back her leg and would have done who knows what had Harry not screamed like a banshee and ran towards them, arms flailing about in the air. Ron scooped up the frightened cat before she could run straight to Filch and the two of them petted her until - half a dozen scratches later - she was purring happily. Once they had explained where they had wanted to go - Ron muttering all the while that they looked a couple of right idiots talking to the cat - she led them to just where they asked.

Of course, once you had managed to find them, there were the actual lessens themselves to attend to. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly learned, than flicking your wrist and looking at sparkles appear.

They had midnight lessons in Astronomy, classes in Herbology with the Hufflepuff's head of house, stout Professor Sprout, History lessons taught by the most boring ghost not living, Charms lessons taught by a wizard so tiny he had to stand atop a pile of books to see over his desk. He gave an excited squeak when he reached Harry's name on the register and toppled out of sight.

Then there was Transfiguration, taught by Gryffindor's head of house, Professor McGonagall who was indeed, as Harry had thought, not someone to cross. She warned them that she had a zero tolerance policy in her class - if you were caught messing about, you would be not be welcome.

Then she changed her desk into a very reasonable mate for Dudley - a pig - and changed it back again. The class was all terribly impressed and were eager to get started. Their first task was to turn a match into needle. By the end of the lesson, Harry's match was far from needlelike but could stand upright on his desk and dance a jig. Hermione Granger was the only one who made any difference to her match. It had gone all shiny and pointy and earned Hermione one of Professor McGonagall's rare smiles. Harry wondered if she smiled so seldom because her face was pulled back so tight in her bun.

While Harry had been waiting eagerly for Potions - or cooking class, as he thought of it - the class most of the Gryffindors were anticipating was Defence Against the Dark Arts, taught by a rather nervous Professor Quirrell, whose classroom smelled strongly of garlic. He wore a large purple turban that seemed terribly out of fashion - even for wizards - and worst of all, the garlic smell seemed to trail about from underneath. The class on the whole was a bit of a joke, Professor Quirrell seemed to be afraid of his own shadow and more than terrified of the lessons he stammered through.

The scent in the room bothered Harry more than most, and he left the class dizzy, with a dull headache, and his scar throbbing.

Friday was met with a sparkle in Harry's bright green eyes. Not only did they have the afternoon off but they would spend the morning in their first ever magical cooking class!

To add to the joy of the day, Ron and Harry made it to the Great Hall without getting lost even once.

"What have we got today?" Ron asked.

"Cooking with the Slytherins!" Harry cried ecstatically. Even Ron grinned reluctantly; they would finally have a class with Draco whom they hadn't had a chance to do more than wave at from across the house tables since they arrived at Hogwarts.

"Professor Snape's head of Slytherin house. They say he favours them - so I guess it can't hurt to sit with Malfoy, then."

"Ron!" Harry admonished, slapping him on the arm.

Just then, the post arrived. Harry had got used to this by now but it still tickled him to see the hundred or so owls suddenly streaming into the Great Hall majestically during breakfast, circling the tables until they spotted their owners and delivered packages and letters onto their laps.

Harry had introduced Ron and Twinkle as soon as he could, taking him up to the school owlery where the students' and schools' owls slept. Twinkle had taken to Ron right away, and took a letter to Ron's parents telling them he had been sorted into Gryffindor. She hadn't brought anything for Harry so far but had come to snuggle his chin and nibble his ear each morning nonetheless, sneaking a bit of his scones and cream in the process. This morning however, she fluttered down between the ambrosia and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on to Harry's plate. Harry was overjoyed and opened the note at once.

Hello Little Dainty,

it said in a very untidy scrawl, and proceeded to invite Harry to tea that afternoon to tell Hagrid all about his week at school. Harry scribbled "Yes, please, I'll bring my friend Ron and see you at three!"

Potions lessons took place in one of the cold dungeons, the room was packed with pickled previously living things, and some things that still seemed to be squirming.

Harry and Ron met Neville at the class entrance and surprised the class by sitting in the middle with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Harry knew that the two ugly imbecile brutes still didn't know for sure whether he had made fun of them on the train - which made him feel extra guilty about having done it. They weren't all bad, they seemed to stand up for Draco when it looked as though Harry would slap him, that made them loyal friends, didn't it? Besides, it wasn't nice to make fun of people for things they couldn't help. It was as bad as the way the Dursleys taunted him. Harry forced himself not to cringe at the boys, and turned his frown upside down, changing each grimace into a smile so they would feel welcome. He wasn't sure if it was working, they grunted a bit and smiled back now and again, but mainly they just looked confused at Harry's interest.

Professor Snape, a rather hook-nosed, sallow skinned, greasy haired wizard, began the class by taking the register, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Many of the Slytherins laughed, Draco looked uncomfortable, as did Crabbe and Goyle after they looked to Draco and decided that discomfort was certainly what they should be feeling.

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 - the bad ones. He spoke in barely a whisper but certainly conveyed his passion toward the subject with his scornful and commanding presence.

Silence followed after his opening remarks. Harry, Ron, and Draco exchanged looks with raised eyebrows - Draco's saying 'thank god I'm in Slytherin' and Harry and Ron's saying 'thank god we sat near the Slytherins.'

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

Harry thanked his lucky stars he had spent some of his free time the last few days preparing for his much anticipated cooking class, and thanked them again that he had been trying to find out all about sleeping potions to figure out which one might have been used on the Dursleys.

"You'd get a powerful sleeping potion, Professor Snape!" Harry had decided that he liked saying that name, accentuating the 's' just slightly.

Professor Snape's eyes seemed to narrow. "It is called, the Draught of Living Death. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In a goat's tummy, Professor Snape!"

"In its tummy?"

"Yes, Professor Snape!" Draco slouched in his seat and had a hand to his forehead, while Ron had his head planted firmly on the desk, arms overtop, both seeming to try to shield themselves from what was to come.

Professor Snape snorted loudly, "Bit of a dandy, then, are we?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry answered proudly, a delighted grin on his face. Ron groaned.

"That'll be five points for your cheek!"

"Thank you, Professor Snape!"

"That's five points removed, Potter." Harry gasped, and slumped in his seat, baffled and defeated. He had thought the class would be wonderful, and had grown even more excited when he heard the passion for potions in the Professors voice.

It went downhill from there. Professor Snape told them to get into pairs and set them to concocting a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the classroom, his robes flaring dramatically, as he criticised almost everyone in the room except Draco, whom he seemed to like. He had just finished berating Neville - who had paired with Draco - for not pulling his weight, and commenting on the perfect way Draco - Mister Malfoy - had stewed his horned slugs in spite of the lack of assistance, when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Crabbe and Goyle had somehow managed to melt Goyle's cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, leaving burned holes in everything in its path. Crabbe and Goyle had been drenched in the potion and were collapsed on the floor grunting in pain and swiping at the liquid with their hands to brush it off of them.

Professor Snape cleared up the spilled potion with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" he said angrily to the two grunting boys. They shrugged under their boils. Professor Snape rounded on Ron and Harry, the third pair in their group. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell them not to add the quills? Thought it would be funny to see two Slytherins writhing in agony, did you? That'll be another five points you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth ready to wave his finger in that awful mans face and tell him what was what - Ron clapped his hand over Harry's mouth before anything could come out. "Don't do it, Harry," he whispered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

"Both of you, make yourself useful and take these boys to the hospital wing. You'll be expected to make up your potion before our next class if you wish to receive credit."

Ron and Harry escorted Crabbe and Goyle out of the classroom. The four of them made their way to the hospital wing in relative silence save only the recurring grunts and moans of pain from the boil covered brutes. Once inside the two were immediately set upon by a Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts Mediwitch. She spelled off their robes and applied a bright orange salve to the boils before pointing her wand at the most effected areas and muttering a counter spell.

Harry went back and forth between the two boys patting ones hand while the other was being tended by Madame Pomfrey, then switching when she tended to the other. Once she was finished, Crabbe and Goyle were instructed to stay put until bedtime when they could return to their dorms, at which point they would still be a bit red but not in any pain.

"Vincent? Gregory?" Harry pouted quietly, "You know what Professor Snape said isn't true, don't you? Ron and I didn't want this to happen." They looked at him with attention now, clearly they had indeed thought Professor Snape had been telling the truth. "If we had seen you add the quills, we would have warned you, and you were doing so well until then we didn't think to check up on your potion." Harry sighed. "We're friends, aren't we?" The boys finally smiled and grunted their assent. It was just an accident. Harry and Ron turned to leave.

"Bye, Harry!" Crabbe and Goyle said in unison, waving their bandaged hands enthusiastically. Harry grimace-smiled and waved back.

As soon as they had reached a safe distance from the infirmary, Ron burst into snickers. "You're horrible! Flirting with Crabbe and Goyle!"

"I was not!" Harry said indignantly. "I was just being nice and you know it!"

"Okay, okay," Ron continued to laugh. "But Harry, in case you haven't noticed, nobody's nice to Crabbe and Goyle."
"Which is all the more reason to be, isn't it?"

Ron burst into a whole new round of snickers. "Bye, Harry!" he mimicked Crabbe and Goyle using a high girlie voice. "I didn't know they could do anything but grunt until that!"

"Ron!" Harry giggled, slapping his arm for the second time that day.

After lunch and some time in the library - doing homework and looking for a stitching spell Harry had heard about - they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of enormous galoshes were standing outside the door.

Harry stopped Ron's hand from knocking, and climbed into one of the galoshes. With both feet fitting easily inside a single boot, Harry was covered to mid thigh. Ron laughed and climbed into the other boot before finally knocking on the door.

When Ron knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang." He finally opened the door and burst into enormous guffaws. "Aren' the two of yer a sight!" he hoisted Ron and Harry up out of the galoshes and put them down inside the house.

The house was one large room with hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, an open fire with a copper kettle boiling, and a massive bed in the corner covered in a patchwork quilt.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, as a gigantic black boarhound bounded straight for Ron and started licking his ears.

"Oh, he's just a big puppy-dog, isn't he?" Harry said, petting the big black hound. He introduced Ron and Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting cupcakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's hair and freckles. "It feels like I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The cupcakes were delicious, Hagrid said he was worried his homemade rock-cakes might hurt Harry's teeth and asked the Hogwarts House-elves to send some cupcakes instead. Ron and Harry told Hagrid all about their first lessons.

They told him about Professor Snape's class. Hagrid told Harry, and Ron agreed that he shouldn't worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me!" Harry whined.

"Rubbish, little dainty!" said Hagrid with a grin. "Why should he?"

Harry harrumphed, having no answer.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."

"He's in Romania, studying dragons." Ron replied.

Hagrid lit up, "Dragons!" Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work.

Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, both carrying brown bags full of the remaining cupcakes. They had just entered the castle when Draco came towards them, his usual slightly bored look on his face, touched now with impatience.

"Harry," he said. "I was looking all over for you, look at this!" In his hands was a cut out from the Daily Prophet, a wizarding newspaper. It outlined the as yet unsolved break-in of vault seven hundred and thirteen at Gringotts bank in London. "It says it was on the thirty first of July - that's the day you told me you had nearly been killed in Gringotts, isn't it? You might have been there during the break-in!" Draco tucked the clipping back into his robes.

"Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about."

"No, he does Ron." Harry pulled the two boys into an empty classroom and shut the door. "Hagrid and I weren't just there during the break-in, we were at that very vault just as the robber was breaking out!" Harry filled them in on what exactly had happened that day in Gringotts, elaborating slightly on just how grabby the assailant was and how much he dreadfully needed Hagrid's rescuing.

"Whoa!" both Ron and Draco said when Harry had finished, finally agreeing on something.

"So what was in the package?" Ron asked.

"Like Hagrid would have dared to tell him, Weasley!" Draco sneered, his respect for Hagrid finally existent after the story of his valiant deed.

"I don't know what it was but it's something important, that's for sure." Harry 'eeked,' "And, I think it's here in the castle!"