Daddy Dearest

Chapter 8 - A Cheat and an Acceptable Score

Friday, September 22, 1991

"When I call your name, come to the front to receive your last essay and turn in the one that is due today. Without talking, if you please." The class, used to Severus Snape's polite demands for silence after the first two weeks, fell silent and Professor Snape called the first name. "Miss Brown." The Gryffindor girl took her essay up to the Potions Master, who handed her the previous week's assignment.

"Miss Bulstrode."

"Mr. Crabbe."

"Mr. Finnigan."

"Mr. Goyle."

"Miss Granger." When Hermione handed in her essay, the Potions Master gave her a thin-lipped smile as he handed back her previous week's work. "Very good, Miss Granger, though it would be better if you restrained yourself from writing four times the required amount." He eyed the scroll she'd turned in dubiously. "In the future, at least."

"Mr. Longbottom." Professor Snape's smile vanished as the round-faced boy made his way to the front. "Confidence, boy, confidence--that's all it takes to pass any class, no matter how skilled or unskilled you are." Neville slunk dejectedly back to his seat, his eyes on the table before him.

"Mr. MacDougal."

"Mr. Malfoy." The fair-haired boy strutted up to the front to place his essay in the basket, but stopped short at the cold glare the professor was directing at him. "Unless that essay is your own work and properly researched, I suggest you take it back to your seat and re-do it. You may hand it in to me at your detention tomorrow for half-credit. Fifty points from Slytherin for your blatant cheating." Professor Snape dropped the previous week's essay in the trash, and Malfoy returned to his seat in shock, still holding his essay. By the time he'd returned to his seat, however, he was glaring up at the Potions Master and muttering angrily to his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Nott, if you please." Nott sulked up to the front, then returned to his seat, glaring at Malfoy along with the rest of the Slytherins.

"Miss Parkinson."

"Miss Patil."

"Mr. Snape." Harry stood and took his essay up to his stepfather, vaguely dreading what he would be told about his last essay. "I know you can do much better than this, Harry, and I hope this essay is a vast improvement on the last one." Harry nodded, took his essay, and returned to his seat.

"Mr. Thomas." Harry opened his essay, apprehensive about the score.

"Mr. Weasley." Harry took a breath, then looked at his score.

"Miss Zabini.*" With a sigh of relief, Harry re-rolled his essay and put it in his bag. He had gotten a 75%, an A--acceptable. An A was high enough that his marks for the term wouldn't suffer, especially since he had done better on his second essay, but low enough that he wouldn't be accused of getting high marks because his stepfather was the teacher.

"What did you get?"

Harry was slightly startled at Ron's quiet question, and glanced up at the Potions Master before whispering a reply to his friend. "A seventy-five. You?"

"Eighty. Why'd you get a seventy-five?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "I was a little distracted when I was writing it, I haven't read his remarks yet. I know I didn't do near as well as I should have, though."

"You'd think that he wouldn't be very strict, on it, as it's the first assignment," Ron protested.

"If he's not strict about the first assignment, when is he going to start? We'll--"

"Five points from Gryffindor, and will Mr. Snape and Mr. Weasley please be quiet so that we can begin class."

Harry and Ron shut up at once, and the professor began the lesson. Harry listened intently to his stepfather and brewed the potion perfectly. Then he carefully wrote down his homework and filed out of class with the rest of the class and went to lunch.

*I've decided Blaise is going to be a girl for this fic to help balance out the male-female population of the first year Slytherins . . . somewhat.