Fire Burn and Cauldron Boil

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

Severus

Professor Snape sat behind his desk, surveying the class with a discriminatory eye. The potion he had set the class to make today was perhaps the most difficult thus far. If correctly brewed, and taken in a small amount, the potion enabled the drinker to see a person's magical ability glow around them, like an aura. It could possibly be humiliating for some, but that was fine. If taken in too high a dosage, the potion could cause severe migraines or even death. Snape didn't think any of the students would be able to brew it correctly however; it was merely an excuse for him to judge the students' abilities.

Resident class know-it-all, Granger, seemed to be doing reasonably well with her potion. He watched her carefully add the two drops of Tentacula venom and stir vigorously, her potion changing from a soft-green colour to a deep violet.

Next to her, Potter and that Weasley boy were looking confused, as usual. Both boys kept snatching glimpses of Granger's work, but they couldn't replicate it. Neither of their potions looked remotely usable at the moment. Snape was looking forward to giving them low marks yet again.

Longbottom's potion was dismal; Finnegan's and Thomas' were not a great deal more impressive. Malfoy's might possibly turn out decently, if he could only grind his Mexican Staring Beetle carapace into a fine-enough powder and stop whispering conspiratorially with Goyle. Malfoy shot a look over at Potter, before returning to his grinding. Goyle's potion was... orange?

"Excuse me, Professor," said Crabbe, distracting Snape. The lumbering troll of a boy pointed out the window. "What's that?"

Snape turned to look, suddenly realising that he had been duped when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy scoop a ladle-full of Goyle's potion and fling it into the Weasley boy's cauldron.

Harry

"This isn't working," Harry muttered to Ron. The potion hadn't looked right from the first step. Maybe he hadn't gotten enough juice from the Prototuber bulb. He sighed. True to form, Hermione's potion appeared to be brewing perfectly. Harry was looking at Ron's potion, feeling heartened slightly because it appeared to be in as bad a state as his own. As he stared, Harry saw Malfoy hurl a spoonful of Goyle's sickly orange-coloured concoction into Ron's cauldron.

Smoke erupted from the cauldron like a nuclear mushroom-cloud. Harry could hardly believe that so much smoke could be created in such a small amount of time. Within seconds, the classroom was full. It was so thick that Harry couldn't even see Ron, who was standing directly beside him. Harry sincerely hoped that this smoke wasn't harmful. It smelled like Dudley's socks after they'd been worn for a week straight and then dunked in a bucket of fresh Hippogriff droppings. They had to get out of there. Harry turned to Ron, who was coughing violently, before hearing Snape yelling an incantation, and suddenly the room cleared.

There was only a second or two of respite though however, because the cauldron was still belching smoke at an amazing rate. Harry could hear more coughing, and Snape's curses, as he charged toward them. From off to Harry's right, he heard someone trip and knock over their cauldron, the liquid spreading across the floor. Snape appeared, swinging his wand in great arcs, clearing the smoke from directly in front of him. The professor slipped on the spilled potion and fell hard to the floor directly in front of Ron's cauldron, the smoke hiding him from them after a moment.

"Evanesco!" they heard him snarl. A split-second later, the potion was gone, the smoke vanishing immediately after as Snape stood up, wand held in clenched fist. His cloak was dripping with unfinished potion and the expression on his face was murderous. Harry and Ron involuntarily took a step back.

"MISTER MALFOY!" Snape bellowed. "YOU WILL STAY BEHIND. THE REST OF YOU, CLEAN UP YOUR WORK AND GET OUT!"

Harry and Ron wasted no time escaping from the room, hoping to make it out before Snape found a way to blame them for this fiasco as well.

Outside, Hermione was fretting. "Oh, I do hope that smoke didn't do anything bad to us. Do you think we should go to the Hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey? I think Professor Snape was quite remiss in just letting us go without checking to see if we were okay. I mean, I know he probably got just as much of that horrible stuff himself as we did, but it's just not right that even if there's the possibility of a student getting sick like that, that he should take all the steps to make sure that we're okay, I mean, he is a teacher, after all, do you know what I mean? It just isn't responsible of him, and - Oh, look, Lavender, are you okay? You look a bit flushed, and..."

Lavender was leaning against the wall, looking confused. Harry wondered why Hermione wouldn't stop talking. Even when she was worried she wasn't usually like this. He had noticed that his heart was racing, and his breathing seemed rapid. Hermione still hadn't shut up. Ron too, was leaning against the wall. He seemed to have a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Hermione had her arm around Lavender's shoulder, but Lavender brushed the arm off, and stood up straight.

"No, yes, I'm alright," said Lavender, a bit vaguely. "I was just a bit lost in thought there. I was... I was trying to figure out which class we had next, but then I..." she trailed off. "...Forgot."

"We've got Transfiguration next," said Harry, thinking that his voice sounded like it was coming from a long way away. He was a bit distracted, noticing a funny feeling in his stomach and a kind of numbness in his fingers. He couldn't quite work out whether it was pleasant or worrisome. He flexed his fingers.

"We should get going." Harry wasn't sure if he had said that. It might have been Ron. He started to walk, a little unsteadily. He had never noticed how uneven the floor was along this corridor.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" It was Ron. Harry turned around.

Behind Ron, Hermione had hold of Lavender's arm. Harry hadn't been paying attention, but it sounded like she still hadn't paused for breath.

"...all think I'm a dork and spend all my time in the library and suck up to the teachers and am no fun at all, and that is SO unfair and I AM fun. Look at me... I AM fun!" she was saying. Harry wondered where she had gotten the idea that she was fun from. She'd never tried to express that notion before.

Lavender was nodding along, a sort of vacant look in her eyes.

"And I can tell that you understand," Hermione continued. "I mean, I can see it in your eyes that you get what I'm saying. I don't understand why we've never been friends before, I mean, we KNEW each other, but we've never been very close, and that's a shame, because we seem to understand each other perfectly and..."

Ron stepped right up close to Harry, staring intently into his eyes. He was within kissing distance, thought Harry. But that was cool. Harry knew that Ron knew the limits of their friendship, and knew that he would never cross that line, so it was, like, okay, that he was this close.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" asked Ron. "They're, like... huge."

Harry laughed. That's what the smoke had done! It must have been some kind of transfiguring smoke that had made his eyes... No, that couldn't be it. Harry's entire body had kind-of gone numb, but at the same time, kind-of hadn't. It was weird. It was good weird though, Harry decided. It felt kind of like an out-of-body experience while still within the body. Or something.

Neville approached, looking as though he had been drinking Firewhiskey. He was dragging himself slowly along the wall, a terrified expression on his face

"Hey Neville!" said Harry, feeling really glad to see his good friend. Neville was unappreciated as a wizard, but Harry knew better. Neville was great.

Neville was mumbling to himself.

"Hey Nev, come to Transfiguration with us, it'll be fun!" said Harry. Neville looked up with a start, his eyes wide as he fell over.

The five of them went to the Transfiguration classroom, Harry helping Neville along, Hermione and Lavender still arm in arm, Ron stopping every few steps to stare at random objects.

They sat in their seats and Harry remembered that Transfiguration was boring. He was worried suddenly that the others would hate him because he'd said it would be fun. Then Harry remembered when McGonagall turned into a cat and that was awesome. Maybe this lesson, Hermione would be able to turn a, like, badger into a toilet seat, or something. That would be hilarious! Harry giggled.

McGonagall entered, but... Harry blinked. Then blinked a second time. If this were any class other than Transfiguration... Professor McGonagall was a traffic light. Like, an actual traffic light, with the pole and the red, green and yellow lights. How'd she do that?

"Wow, that's awesome," Harry said.

"I'm glad you approve," replied McGonagall. Harry was floored. She hadn't SAID that, she seemed to be communicating via a series of blinking lights.

"Red yellow yellow green yellow red red," she flashed.

Harry thought for a moment, translating. She'd actually said: "Are you feeling alright, Potter?"

"Er... Yellow green green yellow red yellow yellow?" replied Harry, hoping to impress McGonagall with his blinking-light language knowledge.

She started flashing red, red. Red, red. Harry took this to be a bad sign.

Hermione

At first she was worried. After a while though, trying to talk her way through the nervousness with the boys, Hermione started to feel okay. She saw Lavender there, who looked a bit sick, but it turned out she was just thinking. Hermione could empathise with that. In fact, no, Hermione KNEW. She just knew. Lavender seemed to know as well. People could get the wrong impression so easily, like how everyone thought Hermione was a dork, and no fun. But she WAS fun. Lavender understood. Hermione wondered why she and Lavender had never really been friends before. They were soul mates, obviously.

They walked along, Hermione holding Lavender's arm, because they were just so close now that they just needed to be touching somehow. Hermione just couldn't stop talking. All the studying, reading and learning she had done just felt like it was packed so tightly into her brain that if she didn't talk some of it out now, then her head would explode. Lavender was okay with the talking though. She was content to just listen, like Ron, too. Hermione knew that she just had so much knowledge to give! It should be given, too. It was wrong to just keep all this knowledge inside and not share it with anyone. Hermione knew she could help everyone if she could just impart all that she knew to the world. Merely speaking seemed to be so inefficient though. Maybe she could invent a spell that would broadcast her thoughts like a television station. Then she could make a difference. Hermione knew right then what it was that made You-Know-Who evil. All the killing, that was one thing; but the core of what made him a bad man was that he wanted to keep all of the knowledge for himself. Hermione never wanted to be like that. She vowed to never be like that.

As she was explaining all of this to Lavender, they reached the Transfiguration classroom. She sat next to Lavender. She felt that this was truly where she belonged. This was a place where everybody learned. Hermione pulled out her textbook and opened it as McGonagall walked in. Hermione had so, so much respect for Professor McGonagall. She was a person who spent her entire life passing knowledge on to students. She was as good a person as had ever lived. Hermione beamed, before looking down at the textbook. She gasped. The words were alive. In the textbook, they were moving. They looked like little black caterpillars as they wriggled off the page and onto the desk. Hermione was delighted. Go, my pretties! she thought. Go spread knowledge to all the people, everywhere!

She leaned over to watch as they crawled down the leg of the desk to the floor. But then they started to go the wrong way. They crawled onto her shoe, and then began to crawl up her leg. Hermione frowned. She didn't want to touch them, in case she hurt them.

"Shoo," she said. "Go the other way. To the other people."

They didn't stop. Some of them crawled onto her skirt; some kept wriggling up her leg. Hermione was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. She tried to brush them off, but they wouldn't move. "Ow!" she said. They had started to burn holes through her skirt. It hurt! Hermione jumped to her feet. Some of the words reached her underwear, where they began to burn through as well. Hermione screamed, clawing at her clothing, but it didn't stop. It hurt. Hermione, still screaming, ran from the room.

Lavender

She was having trouble remembering. She couldn't see Parvati anymore, but didn't know if she had gone on ahead, or stayed behind in the classroom. Then Lavender couldn't remember which class was next. She leaned against the wall to think, feeling a bit funny. She could still smell that awful smoke clinging to her. She felt sure that there was a spell that would get rid of it, but she couldn't remember which it was.

"Hey Lavender, are you okay? You look a bit flushed and I was just talking about how it's a bit wrong, well a lot wrong for Professor Snape to let us out without checking that we were okay and," Hermione had her arm around Lavender's shoulders, and Lavender had no idea what Hermione was babbling about. She thought hard for a moment, before remembering.

"No, yes, I'm alright, I was just a bit lost in thought there, I was..." Stay with it, stay with it... "I was trying to figure out which class we had next, but then I..." God, talking is so HARD. "Forgot." Phew, made it.

Harry said something about Transfiguration, before Hermione started talking again. Lavender couldn't keep up with what Hermione was talking about, so she just stopped paying attention to the words and listened to her voice. It was nice.

Neville arrived from somewhere and Lavender wondered why they were all standing about in the dungeon hallway. Hermione didn't stop talking, but that was okay. It was just a pretty sort of buzz in Lavender's ear. Lavender could hear Harry talking to Neville every once in a while, and it was good. When he talked, his voice was like a duet with Hermione's. Lavender smiled. Hermione was still holding her arm. She wished it was Ron holding it instead, but anyone was better than no one.

"...then my head will just explode, you know, but it's okay, because I'm talking it out of there now, and you're listening and it's nice and..."

It wouldn't be very nice if Hermione's head exploded. It was better that she was... that she was what?

Hermione was still talking as they reached the Transfiguration classroom, still talking when they sat down together, and still talking as McGonagall walked in. Then she stopped. Hermione was staring intently at her textbook. Lavender had forgotten to get her own one out before. Professor McGonagall was talking to Harry. She had a nice voice, too.

Hermione leaned over. It looked like she was about to fall out of her seat. Then she stood up, screamed, and ran from the room. Lavender smiled. Her screams had sounded nice. Different, but still nice.

Then Seamus burst into the room yelling about a bludger chasing him down the hallways. Lavender giggled. That would be exciting.

Ron

Ron had never noticed before, but Professor McGonagall was beautiful. Not beautiful like Hermione, or... or like Fleur. Fleur was, like, totally out of this world. Ron wished Fleur was here so he could just look at her a while. No, McGonagall was beautiful just because she was herself. She was perfect, just as she was. So was Harry. Ron turned to his friend. Those glasses and that scar... There was no possible way Harry could be improved.

"Wow, that's awesome!" said Harry, looking at McGonagall. Ron grinned. So Harry understood as well. That was great.

"I'm glad you approve," replied McGonagall, giving Harry a strange look. Harry looked shocked. "Are you feeling alright, Potter?"

Ron smiled. Harry would explain it, and then McGonagall would understand as well.

"Er... Yellow green green yellow red yellow yellow?" said Harry.

What the?

"I have no idea what kind of game you think you are playing, Potter, but you had best stop playing it before you find yourself sent out of this class." She sounded angry. Harry looked rather taken aback.

"Please, Professor," interjected Ron, jumping to his friend's aid. "I'm sure Harry is just a little overwhelmed by how perfect you are."

McGonagall turned on Ron. "If you think shameless flattery is going to help here, Weasley, you are very much mistaken."

"No, please Professor, you don't understand," Ron tried again. He wished Harry would speak, Ron knew Harry would be able to explain it so much better than he could. "It's just that we've only just come into a realisation of the perfection of everything." Ron made an expansive gesture, while McGonagall took a step forward, examining Ron's eyes. "It's all so beautiful. You're beautiful."

McGonagall's face began to turn a crimson colour. That was when Hermione ran screaming from the room. Seamus ran in and slammed the door behind him. He was yelling something about bludgers, when Neville put his head on the desk and began to cry.

Lavender was watching everything with a dull glint in her eye and a silly smile on her face. Harry was still staring at McGonagall and Ron started laughing. This was amazing. It was like it was scripted or something, like a comedy routine. It was perfect!

"That is IT!" said McGonagall. "Class, pack up your things, we are going to the hospital wing."

As they got out into the hallway, Ron could hear screaming. Hermione rushed past them, wearing her blouse and her cloak, but nothing else.

"Oh, my!" said McGonagall, hurrying after her.

"Ron," said Harry. "Did you just see..?"

Lavender giggled. Ron clapped.

"Perfect!"

Draco

At first, Snape had yelled and ranted. He swore that Draco was going to get detention for the rest of the term with Filch. Eventually he had become quiet, a funny look creeping over his face. Snape left Draco standing in the middle of the room as he returned to his desk.

Draco was starting to feel a little strange himself when Snape crawled under his own desk and began to scream at the ingredients cupboard not to hit his mother any more.

Draco was sure he would have found this funny, except that the floor under his feet had become soft, and he started to sink into it. He watched, entranced, as his feet vanished into the stone. He started to panic when he had sunk up to his knees, but that seemed to make things worse. Suddenly the floor was like water, and Draco had sunk to his neck in it. He was splashing about trying to keep his head above water. I have to get out of this room! I have to get this cloak off, it's dragging me down - I'll never make it! He struggled out of the cloak, holding a chair for support.

Grabbing at the chair and table-legs around him, Draco struggled across the floor. It was hard-going. The door was only a couple of metres away, but there wasn't anything to hang onto between where he was and the door. He was going to have to try and just make it across by himself. One last big effort. Draco was hyperventilating. He didn't want to die underneath the Potions classroom floor. No one would ever find him down there.

Then the door opened and McGonagall walked in, miraculously not sinking.

"Help me, Professor!" Draco called out in distress.

"Get a hold of yourself, Malfoy," snapped McGonagall, glaring down at Draco flailing around on his belly on the floor. "Where is Professor Snape?" she asked.

Draco thrashed one arm about to stay afloat while he pointed with the other.

"Please, no, don't hit her again, please!" came a wail from under Snape's desk. It was followed by a sob.

McGonagall grabbed Draco by the back of his uniform and pulled him to his feet.

"Hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy. Right away."

"Thank you, Professor, you saved my life," said Draco, stumbling toward the door.

"This is a disaster," Draco heard her mumble, before he fell over. He dug his fingertips into the spaces between floor-stones. Draco began to realise what kind of ordeal still awaited him. He'd forgotten that the dungeons were at the top of such a steep hill.