Daddy Dearest

Chapter 5 - Potions

Friday, September 6, 1991

Harry had as much trouble getting around the school at first, as he didn't want anyone to discover the Marauder's Map, but by Friday he and Ron had pretty much figured out how to get from the Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall. As they sat down to breakfast, though, Harry didn't have to ask Ron what they had that day.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins right off this morning," he said, smiling in satisfaction.

Ron groaned. "Don't remind me. Snape always favors the Slytherins, that's what they all say."

Harry shrugged. "He just has an odd sense of justice."

Ron snorted. "Yeah--Slytherins are always right."

Harry shook his head, but left it alone.

Potions was held deep in the dungeons, and so cooler than most of the castle, but it didn't seem as depressing to Harry as the rest of the Gryffindors. Most of the Snape Manor was similarly dreary, and it was places like this that he felt most at home, though the Gryffindor Tower strongly reminded him of his own North Tower at the manor. Professor Snape started with roll call.

"When I call you're name, answer with a simple 'here.' There is no need for any other foolish answers, though if there is something you feel I need to know, then you may state it. Brown, Lavender, of Gryffindor."

"Here."

"Bulstrode, Millicent, of Slytherin."

"Here."

"Finnigan, Seamus, of Gryffindor."

"Here.

"Granger, Hermione, of Gryffindor."

"Here, sir."

"Longbottom, Neville, of Gryffindor."

"Here."

"MacDougal, Morag, of Slytherin."

"Here."

"Malfoy, Draco, of Slytherin."

"Nott, Aaron, of Slytherin."

"Here."

"Parkinson, Pansy, of Slytherin."

"Here."

"Patil, Parvati, of Gryffindor."

"Here."

"Snape, Harry, of Gryffindor."

"Right here, Dad."

"Remember, Harry, that in this classroom, I am not acting as your father, but your teacher. Thomas, Dean, of Gryffindor."

"Here."

"Weasley, Ron, of Gryffindor."

"Here."

"Zabini, Blaise, of Slytherin."

"Here."

"Has anyone been missed? No? Then let us proceed. You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. 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."

Hermione, eager as ever, was on the edge of her seat, waiting to prove herself.

"Weasley!" Professor Snape demanded, rounding on the redhead. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I--I don't know," Ron stammered, obviously stumped, but Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"He didn't ask you," Harry muttered to her. "Put your hand down."

She ignored him, and Professor Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--clearly blood isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Malfoy! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as higher, so that she was nearly standing. Malfoy, who had been laughing at Ron, blinked. "I don't know!"

"Thought you wouldn't need to open a book before coming because of your blood, did you?" The Potions Master was still ignoring Hermione's hand.

"What is the difference, Longbottom, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione stood up, but Neville answered nervously. "They're the same plant, sir, and are also known as aconite. But... that's a Herbology question, sir."

"Potions and Herbology overlap, as the plants you grow in Herbology are frequently used in potion making. As for the other two--sit down, you silly girl." Hermione sat down, looking a little shocked. "As I was saying, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, and a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Well? Copy it down!"

There was a shuffling of quills and parchment as they all hurried to write it down, and when everything had settled, Harry saw Hermione glaring sullenly at him.

"I told you to put your hand down," Harry muttered.

Hermione sniffed and turned away.

Professor Snape put them all in pairs to make a simple potion to cure boils, and before long a cloud of green smoke erupted and billowed across the dungeon. When the smoke had cleared, it revealed Seamus's cauldron, melted into a twisted heap. The potion was oozing across the floor, burning holes in people's shoes; and Neville was covered in it. Boils were popping up on him almost as fast as the class took to standing on their stools.

"I suppose you put in the porcupine quills before you took the cauldron off the fire," the Potions Master sighed, clearing the potion away with a wave of his wand.

Neville whimpered in pain as more boils popped up.

"I can take him up to the Hospital Wing," Harry volunteered.

"Yes, you've already done this one, take him. Mr. Finnigan, you go with Mr. Weasley."

Harry helped Neville up to the Hospital Wing and left him with the nurse, but by that time class was over. They had the afternoon off, and so Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room.

"Thought you'd get out of Potions early just because you're the teacher's son, did you?" asked a very irritated Seamus when Harry went through the portrait hole.

"What? I just took Neville up to the hospital wing. I already know that potion, anyway. Do you expect me to live in the same manor as the Hogwarts Potions Master from the time I was three without him teaching me at least basic potion making skills?"

"No... er... what do you mean, from the time you were three?" Seamus asked, trying to hold his ground.

"He's my stepfather, and Mum didn't marry him until I was three. He's taught Lenora and I little things about potions for as long as I can remember. Just the basics, really, but the first few lessons are going to be review for me."

"You're not going to have to do anything in there, and you're going to get the best grade, anyway!"

Harry snorted. "If you think that, then you definitely don't know my dad. He's going to push me harder than the rest of you. I'm going to have to work the hardest to get my grade in there."