Serpent's Lair

On Friday morning, Hedwig brought Harry mail for the first time. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

"What's your letter say?" Blaise asked. "Who's it from?"

"Hagrid," Harry replied. "Can I borrow your quill?"

"What's he say?"

"He wants to know if I'll come have tea with him this afternoon," Harry answered, scribbling Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note.

"Can I come?"

Harry looked up at her in surprise.

"Maybe you're right about him. I'll give him a chance." It obviously cost Blaise some effort to say this, but she seemed to mean it.

"Sure." Harry grinned at her, and he felt a tension between them lift. He hadn't realized he hadn't gotten over their argument about Hagrid.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because Potions class turned out to be quite unpleasant.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry-- he hated him.

Snape, like Flitwick, started class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

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

Harry thought he saw Draco cover a smirk, and a few of the Gryffindors sniggered. 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.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word-- like McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry glance at Blaise, who looked almost smug, as if something she'd said had just been confirmed. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

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

Powered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Blaise, who shrugged helplessly. Theodore, who had also taken a seat near him, had stopped examining the far wall long enough to look over at Hermione Granger, whose hand had shot into the air as soon as Snape asked the question.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered reluctantly. So much for making a good first impression.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut-- fame clearly isn't everything, is it, Potter?"

He ignored Hermione's hand.

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

Hermione stretched her hand as high in the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, and Theodore turned back to the wall, looking disgusted. Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Many of the Gryffindors were looking satisfied or relieved, which was definitely starting to annoy him. He tried to focus.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books, more than once, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"One last time, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "I think Granger does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed, including several of the Gryffindors. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "One point from Gryffindor." Hermione sat down, looking shocked. A murmur ran through the Gryffindor portion of the classroom. "Silence. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, who he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt his partner's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the entire class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Neville's partner.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Draco was complaining loudly about how "that moron" had damaged his new boots. Harry ignored him. His mind was racing. Clearly Snape was nasty to all of his students, or at least most of them, but Harry hadn't really done anything wrong, and he was in Snape's own house. Why had Snape humiliated him like that at the start of class? Why did he keep glaring at Harry all through the lesson?

"Why's he hate you so much?" Blaise muttered in a puzzled tone. "I'd heard that he favored Slytherin. I guess maybe it's because you made You-Know-Who go away before."

"He supported--"

"Oh, yes. After it was over, he claimed he'd been a spy for Dumbledore. Dumbledore confirmed it, but Father says he thinks Dumbledore was just trying to give him a second chance."

Harry stared at her. "How do you know all this?"

"My father helped fight You-Know-Who. He worked with the Ministry afterwards, too, when they were sentencing people. He says a lot of people got off who shouldn't have. Father says Mr. Crouch did his best, but..."

"Crouch?"

"He's the one who organized the Ministry against You-Know-Who. Father worked for him-- they were friends, and we're actually related to him by marriage." Blaise sounded quite proud of this. "So, we've got the afternoon off, right? What do you want to do? Are we going to go see Hagrid?"

At five to three 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 galoshes were outside the front door.

"Harry," Blaise said softly as they approached the door, "I'm not promising anything, okay? I'll give him a chance, since you think he's all right-- but if he isn't, you need to reconsider too."

"Fine," Harry said. "Don't worry, you'll like him."

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

Blaise backed nervously away. Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang. "Who's your friend, Harry?" Fang bounded straight at Blaise, and she flinched, but he started licking her ears, and soon she was laughing and mock-dodging him.

"This is Blaise," Harry said.

She managed to stop laughing long enough to say "Nice to meet you, Hagrid" and make her way to the table.

"Yeh doing' alright in Slytherin, Harry?" Hagrid asked, pouring boiling water into a teapot. He sounded worried.

"Yeah, it's fine." Harry shrugged.

"Yeh be careful in there, alright, Harry? So how's Hogwart's suiting yeh two so far?"

Harry and Blaise told Hagrid about their first lessons. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about Potions-- Snape liked hardly any of the students, even in his own house.

Blaise had continued petting Fang, who was now resting his head on her knee and drooling.

"Fang seems te like yeh, Blaise. Yeh like animals?"

"Yes, I do. Father doesn't-- he's allergic-- but I do have a cat. I'm really looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures, though."

"Aye... that would've been me favorite class. Get plenty of chances to deal with magical creature though, on this job. Yeh two ever want te come down here an' help with that..."

"Could we?" exclaimed Blaise, quite excited. "What kinds of creatures do you deal with?"

While Hagrid and Blaise talked about the creatures that lived in the forest, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "this Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it; Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

Harry and Blaise walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with inedible rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse. "You know," Blaise said, "Maybe he isn't so bad. I'm not sure. Maybe. I do kind of like him. Maybe Father was afraid that if I got to know him, he'd try cooking for me..." Harry was pleased that Blaise had liked Hagrid, but he was preoccupied. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? "What is it, Harry?" Blaise inquired, noticing his abstracted air.

"Nothing... just... that break-in... the vault was empty..."

"Yeah-- kind of weird, huh?"

"Hagrid and I were there that day. He emptied one of the vaults."

"Really?" Blaise looked extremely interested. "He did? What was in it?"

"I don't know..." and Harry told her about the incident. She was excited by the information, and they spent the rest of the trip back to the castle discussing the mysterious parcel.

That night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, Harry lay awake, thinking. He tossed a few times, preparing to go to sleep, and noticed that Theodore was sitting up in bed. He had lit the tip of his wand, and was hiding the light under his blankets, but he wasn't looking down. In the dim light of Theodore's spell, Harry could see him staring at the far wall in silence. He thought he saw something glint on his face, but he wasn't sure. Theodore's thin frame was quivering a little, or that might have been just a trick of the light.

Harry sat up, and Theodore stiffened. "Yes?" he growled, sounding almost as if he were choking on something.

"Um... are you..."

"What?" Theodore hissed angrily.

"Okay?" Harry finished, sounding slightly apologetic.

Theodore's head turned toward him, and Harry found himself wishing he could see Theodore's face better. It was too shadowed to make out his expression.

"Is that the polite way of saying 'shut up and turn off the light'?" Theodore inquired.

"Um... no. I just-- wondered if you were alright."

Theodore grumbled something incomprehensible. "Fine, Potter. Go to sleep." He extinguished the light from his wand, and Harry heard movement from his bed-- presumably Theodore was following his own advice and lying down to sleep.

Harry wasn't certain, but he thought Theodore seemed friendlier-- or at least more interested in him-- after that. They occasionally exchanged greetings and nods, and during Transfiguration Theodore offered a curt tip on getting the match to turn silver.

On Monday, a sign went up in the Slytherin common room: broom-riding lessons were to start on Thursday. Harry was excited, but Blaise's feelings seemed mixed; she told Harry that her father had forbidden her to fly one before now, so she didn't really know how well she'd do. Theodore just gave the sign a look that was half murder and half indifference and went up to their dorm, carrying a book. Draco, however, went wild, describing his broom-riding accomplishments to anyone who would listen or who didn't leave quickly enough. Pansy listened to him wide-eyed, as if she had never heard anything more amazing. Arriana also talked about her accomplishments, although she seemed to at least select an audience, rather than expecting it to come. Millicent ran to her brother, presumably for reassurance. Harry, for his part, was looking forward to it, albeit a bit nervously.

On Thursday, things started out well for Harry. Their first exercise was calling their brooms into their hands. All the students put their hands above their brooms and said "up!" Harry's broom sprang into his hand instantly, but it was one of the few that did. Blaise's broom had flown up to her hand at once, but apparently it had moved faster than she'd expected, so she'd jumped backwards and the broom had fallen back to the ground. Theodore Nott was glowering at his broom, which hadn't budged. Then Madam Hooch, the instructor, had them mount their brooms, and went up and down correcting their grips. She spent quite a bit of time on Theodore before giving him up as a hopeless case. Finally she had them line up and try taking off. It was at this point that Neville Longbottom lost control of his broom.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle-- twelve feet-- twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and--

WHAM-- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy-- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class and declared that if anyone touched the brooms while she was gone she would see them expelled from Hogwarts. Then she led the tearful Neville away.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter. To Harry's shock, most of the Slytherins joined in. Harry and Blaise remained silent, except for Blaise whispering to Harry that fixing broken bones was pretty easy for Healers. Theodore Nott wore an odd expression that might or might not have been amusement, but Draco, Pansy, Vincent, Gregory, Millicent, and Arriana all seemed to find Neville's injury hilarious.

The Gryffindors seemed to share Harry's disgust at this reaction. "Shut up, Malfoy," a Gryffindor girl snapped.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Something glittered as he held it up.

Harry made forward, but Blaise caught his arm. "Don't," she hissed.

"Why not? He can't just--"

"Give that here, Malfoy!" Ron Weasley's face was flushed with anger as he stepped forward.

Draco smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find-- how about-- up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Weasley shouted, lunging at Draco. Draco sprang back and tried to mount his broomstick, but Weasley got to him first and bowled him over. In an instant both boys were on the ground, punching and kicking each other. Weasley was bigger and stronger than Draco, but Draco didn't care if the thing he was holding got broken, and Weasley did, and Draco was using that against him, making certain it got in his way as much as possible.

Finally Weasley rolled away, holding something in his hand. He got to his feet, glaring at Draco, who stood up, glaring back. The Slytherins and Gryffindors faced each other, silently. "You'll pay for that, Weasley," Draco said after a moment. "And that'd be pretty hard for you, wouldn't it... who knows, though, maybe Longbottom will give you a reward." Weasley just glared, panting from the fight.

Madam Hooch arrived not long after, just in time to stop Draco and Weasley from going for each other's throats again, and announced that class was ending early that day. As Harry trudged up to the castle, he felt depressed. The Gryffindors kept sending venomous looks in the general direction of the Slytherins, and personally, Harry could understand why. He thought of the kids at school who had stood back and done nothing while Dudley bullied him. He wouldn't be like that, he promised himself. Not even if it did earn him the enmity of his own house.