Simon says...

Harry rushed to his dormitory. He hated Malfoy. Why did he have to be in the same house as Malfoy? Even worse, why did he have to share a dormitory with Malfoy? Harry didn't want to think about what could - and possibly would - have happened, if Simon hadn't intervened. He hoped dearly that Simon would teach Malfoy a lesson in that classroom, maybe hex him into the next century.

Harry tried to calm down. He sat by the window and stared outside. After successfully banning all thoughts of torture he could use on Malfoy, he started another round of studying Potions. There were only a few days left before he had to re-sit the exam, but he was feeling much more confident about it.

***

Harry spent the next few days exclusively with his Potions books, while every free minute was immediately occupied by practical exercises under Simon's supervision.

He wasn't feeling too well, often not sleeping long enough, and thus became increasingly bad tempered; he didn't feel like companionship, either. When someone addressed him in the corridors, he was likely to explode into their faces, no matter who it was. He even upset Hermione with his mood, something he regretted, since he actually meant to regain contact and remain friends with her.

The only exception was Simon, whose calm and considerate attitude prevented him from further angry outbreaks during their private lessons.

***

The OWL re-sit examination day happened to be a chilly Saturday. Since the weather changed two days ago, it had been raining non-stop.

The day before, Harry went to sleep early, and awoke the morning of his exam feeling surprisingly awake and rested. During breakfast he discussed a few of the more difficult potions, which were likely to come up during the written part, with Simon. Then, he made his way to a classroom on the third floor, where about twenty other students were already waiting in front of a door. In a far corner, he noticed Ron standing alone with closed eyes, mumbling silently names and dates that he'd no doubt need for the History of Magic exam.

Neville was standing next to Parvati, desperately trying to involve her into a conversation. He was very pale and trembled nervously. He was, just like Harry, facing a re-sit in Potions. But Harry didn't feel much better than Neville, from the look of him. He was just as nervous, if not worse. What if he experienced a Black out? The thought of being degraded to the basic class hovered in the back of his head. Snape had his principles; nothing would induce him to abandon them. He only allowed students he thought to be competent and proficient in his NEWT-class, leaving those he believed to be lazy and dumb for the basic course. Harry feared being forced to endure more and worse ways of Snape's humiliations.

Professor McGonagall shoved her way through the students and opened the classroom door. Inside they found small tables, one for each student, marked with their names. Harry found his place and sat down. While McGonagall elaborated on the procedure, he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his robes. Professor McGonagall raised her wand and a bright blue flash lightened the room. A role of parchment, ink and a feather quill appeared in front of each student. Harry studied the questions on the first parchment. They weren't easy, but he had a general idea of what was being asked.

"What are the characteristics of Mycelium aquaris and how do you obtain it?" he murmured barely audible. He searched his cognitive cells for the accurate definition, but Mycelium had always been difficult for him to understand, especially how to acquire it. Depending on its very dissimilar types, there were naturally different ways to obtain it. Unfortunately, he had no idea whataquaris meant.

After a huge effort, he managed a tolerable answer, then he took a shot at the other questions, which he was able to complete with satisfying answers. When he finished writing the last answer, he returned to the first question, knowing he had missed an important aspect. But he still couldn't recall the exact meaning. The more time passed, the more anxious he got.

'Simon, you're not around when needed,' he thought desperately. 'What's Mycelium aquaris again?' he thought frantically, trying to recall Simon's words.

'Mycelium aquaris is a water fungus,' he heard Simon's voice in his head.

Or was it? Maybe he had just concentrate so hard on one of their lessons, that he remembered it this vividly. But he couldn't marvel about that now, he had received the cue he needed, and started to write furiously about the tricky ways of getting hold of the herb in question.

Glancing up, he realized that he still had a decent amount of time left to revise his answers. While rereading his recipe for the Draught of Peace, he sensed Simon's voice again.

'Check the ingredients, hellbore is missing.'

And truly, hellbore was not listed in his answer. While the last grains of sand fell, he corrected his answer and checked the remaining questions, but he couldn't detect any more mistakes, nor did he hear anymore advice from Simon.

"Time's up! Put your quills aside, I will now collect your parchments," Professor McGonagall announced. Harry heard the moans of a few students and glanced at Neville who reluctantly put down his quill.

"All students who also need to re-sit the practical exams will return to this room at half past two. You will receive the results of the written examinations in two weeks time."

***

Harry left the room, intending to go down to the Great Hall and grab a quick bite for lunch, when he noticed Hermione standing in the hallway.

"How was Potions?" she asked, her eyes fixed upon the doorway. But Harry only nodded, he had a good feeling about it, he could have scored an E, if not an O.

"Are you waiting for Ron?" asked Harry, following her glance.

"Ron and Neville. The two of them were ever so nervous this morning."

"Is Ron still mad at me? Because of the Quidditch match?"

"No, I don't think he is mad at you at all, he is..." But what Ron really was, Harry never found out. Ron and Neville chose that moment to appear in the doorway. Hermione quickly jogged over to them and hugged Ron. Harry watched them shortly and decided to leave.

"Harry." Hermione's voice held him back.

"What is it?"

"Well, I thought maybe we could meet up sometime? How about next weekend? We could go to Hogsmeade together."

"I might be going with Simon and Frederic," Harry replied, "but I'll think about it."

"You mean to go to Hogsmeade with that Lestrange bloke?" Ron asked with an air of anger in his voice. Harry shot him a livid glance, but nodded.

"Lestrange?" Neville jumped, obviously frightened, his flushed cheeks losing their colour.

"Don't worry, he's okay," Harry tried to explain, "I owe him many thanks. He was a great teache..."

"Harry. He's a Lestrange!" Ron argued heatedly. "You can't possibly trust him!"

"Yes, I do. Simon is different; he's not Malfoy, for starters," Harry defended his new friend.

"But his parents," Neville started again, by now his ashen face made a decent match to Snape's customary pale features. "They... tortured my parents."

"Yes, his parents. Not him." He took a deep breath, before saying, "Just look at Sirius. A family full of dark wizards, and he turned out allright, too." Turning on his heel, he finally left for a short, silent meal, before retreating to his dormitory. He could understand Neville's attitude, he probably would have reacted the same way. He could imagine how tough it must be for him, but Ron and Hermione? They should have less biased views.

***

Harry hoped against hope that Snape would not be present at the practical examinations. Snape's menacing aura was the main factor he lacked concentration during his lessons. On his way to the classroom, he ran into Simon, who walked the rest of the way with him, asking questions about the written part.

"So, how did it go?"

"Great, I knew basically everything, except..." Harry remembered the strange incident during the exam and faltered.

"Except how to obtain Mycelium aquaris?" Simon finished calmly.

"How do you know?" Harry stopped in his tracks and looked at Simon, astonished.

"While doing homework in the library, I suddenly I thought I heard your voice, but I wasn't sure about it."

"But you answered. I heard yours in my head, too."

"Harry, you don't happen to be skilled in Legilimency?"

"Legilimency?" Harry repeated taken aback, thinking of his disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape. "Er...I doubt it."

"Have you ever sensed another's emotions?"

Harry thought about his connection to Voldemort. How he was forced to experience strong emotions the Dark Wizard felt, how he dreamt about important things happening that had caused Voldemort to feel very happy or angry. Did that count? He looked up at Simon and nodded.

"But isn't Legilimency the influencing of someone else's thoughts?

"Yes, it is that as well. Intentionally influencing thoughts is a hard piece of work and requires a lot more than what happened today, the signal you send out earlier was of rather unintentional nature."

Harry meant to ask him many more question but they had arrived in front if the classroom. To avoid people overhearing them, he decided to drop it for now.

"We should continue later," Simon stated, observing the students waiting in line, his eyes were caught by Neville who was anxiously watching the pair. He turned to leave.

"Good luck."

"That must have been Lestrange, right?" Neville inquired when Harry approached. Harry only nodded, not knowing what else to say. He could tell that Neville felt anti-sympathetic towards Simon, if not hatred.

"Come on. You don't even know him. He's a great guy, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even consider taking this re-sit."

"Maybe, but he's also a Slytherin, and the child of... well, think about who his parents are." Neville replied, making a sour face.

"Well, I'm a Slytherin now, too, but that doesn't make me a bad person, does it?" Harry started to feel annoyed, despite his knowledge of Neville's past, regarding to his parents.

"I'm not against you, but Simon's..." Neville shook his head.

"Okay, whatever. Believe what you will, but accept that he's my friend." Harry turned around. He would have to deal with this later - he needed a clear head for the exam.

***

Professor McGonagall opened the door at half-past, sharp. The teachers responsible for the corresponding subjects would be supervising the practical exams, meaning Harry now had three hours of Snape's icy company to look forward to. Clad in his usual deep black robes, Snape led Harry and four other unfortunate students down to the dungeons into their usual classroom, which was way too huge for only five students, but had the positive effect that none of them was able to glance at the others work. Not that any of them would have dared to let their eyes stray beyond their respective working areas. Harry took position behind a cauldron, waiting for instructions. There was a small cabinet holding various ingredients beside it. Snape gave them instructions to brew the Fortuna Draught, a potion Harry knew so well, his luck seemed almost ironic. The Professor lazily sat back and ordered them to start.

Harry ignited the fire beneath his cauldron and begun to cut up roots. Occasionally, he looked up at Snape, but the pale man showed no visible reaction, though watching them closely and taking note of all their movements. Time passed and after adding the final ingredient, Harry stirred the potion counter clockwise until the expected slightly pink steam curled its way towards the ceiling. He quickly extinguished the fire, now stirring the potion in rapid movements until the steam diminished and with a faint plop he pulled his wand out. It was done. Harry filled a phial marked with his name and set it on the table up front

"Sure you're done, Potter?" Snape smirked at him.

"Yes, sir," he answered confidently.

"Very well, you may leave."

Harry scurried out, happy with his performance and even happier that Simon had insisted on brewing this particular potion during their lessons. Now, he'd have two weeks until he found out about his grades, and if it wasn't for the words he'd had with his former house-mates, he could have been a very happy boy indeed.

***

During the following days, Harry observed many people talking about him behind his back, especially whenever he was seen around Simon. Even his 'former' friends, like Ernie and Neville, Parvati and Seamus stuck their heads together, whispering and shooting glances in their direction. The only exception was Hermione. She confirmed that there was lots of talk in their Common Room, but also that other students were concerned about his new pals. Though, she admitted talking to Terry about Simon and that she was glad he finally found a friend who successfully animated him into studying, something she'd failed to achieve for five years. Since Hermione and Ron would be visiting Hogsmeade together, and Ron still bore a grudge against Simon, Harry decided to stick to his decision and spend the afternoon with Frederic and Simon.

***

During lunch on the Friday before their next Hogsmeade weekend Harry noticed that Simon wasn't present. Actually, he hadn't seen him the entire morning. Frederic had no clue as to Simon's whereabouts either, but when asked, divulged that Simon often gave the teachers the slip and made private trips to Hogsmeade without anyone's knowledge. By next morning, Simon still hadn't returned.

***

Frederic joined Ethan and some other seventh-years, so Harry was left to stroll down to Hogsmeade on his own. After buying an enormous bag of sweets from Honeydukes, Harry stood crunching some cockroach clusters in front of Dervish and Banges, studying their special offers when he made out Frederic's voice.

"...we still have a bit of time left, Simon won't be meeting us in front of the Three Broomsticks until noon..." Turning around, Harry looked directly at Frederic, who halted, quickly suggesting to his friends that they pay a swift visit to the owlery before hurrying away.

Harry waited until the three of them were out of sight, then darted to the village pub, pushed the door open and hid behind a large potted plant, panting heavily. Something was definitely wrong.

It took him awhile to scan the crowd, but soon he noticed Simon sitting with a stranger. Simon was talking to the other person vigorously, while the other one kept shaking his head. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, they were too far away, nor could he see the other person's face, who sat with his back turned to the door. Harry crept closer to the bar and ordered a Butterbeer. Sipping it slowly, he inched slowly towards them. Simon's features were filled with bitterness. The stranger got up, apparently saying something to Simon, and turned around, allowing Harry a plain view of his face. It was Snape. Harry turned around abruptly, pretending to be interested in a flyer about an up-coming Halloween event at the pub.

"Well, sneaking around again, Potter?" Snape smirked. "I suggest you better be present at the Halloween feast at Hogwarts or I shall have the pleasure of awarding you a detention you won't forget easily."

"Of course, sir, I was just..." But Harry didn't have to come up with an apology, Snape had already swept passed him. He looked for Simon, but the older boy had vanished as well. Pondering the meaning of this meeting, Harry decided he'd have to confront Simon later the day and slowly sauntered back to the castle.

***

But Simon feigned being busy and avoided talking to Harry all afternoon. Becoming impatient, Harry addressed Simon while the other was brewing the weekly dose of Confundus Draught.

"I saw you with Snape earlier."

"I met him there by accident, he asked me where I went off to yesterday." Simon seemed a bit uncertain.

"And? Where did you go to?" Harry wouldn't give up effortlessly.

"Can you keep a secret?" Harry had no clue whatsoever what direction this was taking but nodded.

"I met my girlfriend. She graduated last year and I had to see her again. I went to her place last night, and it got a little late - anyway I didn't feel like returning to Hogwarts so I wrote Frederic to meet me at the Three Broomsticks. Unfortunately, Snape noticed my disappearance, and when I ran in to him today, I had no other choice but to explain." Simon said all this without looking at Harry once, busily stirring the potion. But when he finished he looked up, apprehensively.

Harry, who was still quite sceptical, decided to leave it at that for now, sat in a corner and waited for Simon to finish the potion. After awhile, Simon started to hand out cupfuls of the by now much desired Draught. He held one cup out to Harry and took a seat next to him.

"Don't be mad, but I have a lot on my hands right now. Snape gave me detention for the next couple evenings and wants to keep an eye on me, so I won't give him the slip again."

Harry nodded and took a sip. It tasted different, not as good as usual. Pulling a face he looked questioningly at Simon.

"I worked on the ingredients. It doesn't taste as good, but the efficacy has improved greatly."

Simon's definition of 'improved efficacy' varied greatly from Harry's, because after only a short time, Harry's brain started to rebel. He felt hot and cold at the same time; he tasted basically all flavours he had ever come across in his life; all colours became dazzling and the outlines of people and furniture became blurry. He closed his eyes, finally finding relief in the welcoming, black eternity of sleep.

***

Awoken by a sharp pain in his scar, Harry opened his eyes. It was dark around him, he was still half lying half sitting on a chair in the Common Room. Only the flames painted their pictures onto the walls, permitting him to see the mess all around him. He tried to concentrate on the pain, but his brain was still lulled by the effects of the Confundus Draught. Closing his eyes again, the image of Snape sitting behind a desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment crystallized in front of his inner eye. Suddenly, Snape gripped his forearm tightly and hissed an inaudible curse. He quickly got up, pulled a deep black rope from a wardrobe and hurried out the door.

The pain slowly faded. Harry's first thought was to inform Dumbledore, so he slowly left his chair, but his feeble attempts to climb over the packs of messily scattered chairs, books and some drowsy bodies failed soon enough, due to the miscommunication of his limbs and his drowsy brain. Thus, he ended up clambering to a nearby couch and falling asleep instantly.

TBC