The Competition

The Competition

He clutched the book to his chest as he hurried across the quadrangle. Professor Sprout had been most helpful, perusing the list of ingredients he had made and promising to gather them together for him the next day. Lucius sneered at Professor Sprout because she always had dirty fingernails, but Severus enjoyed her lessons. Botany was an important part of Potions making, and that was his passion. He applied himself in her lessons, and she seemed to have a soft spot for him.

He knew his potion would be a success, because even though he had set himself a difficult challenge it was one he felt sure he could meet. Once in the dungeon corridor that led to the Slytherin common room he broke into a run, impatient to read the competition rules again before he submitted his application.

He sat on his bed and drew the heavy green curtains for privacy before setting the book down in front of him and turning to the back page. There it was, "The Three Hundred and Twenty-Ninth 'Ars Alchemica Annual' Annual Potions Competition". He smirked. Once the judges tested his entry he would be bound to win.

He did not care about the prize money, although twenty galleons would be very welcome; the thought of a year's free subscription to the periodical Ars Alchemica, his favourite and the reason his brother had given him the Annual as a birthday gift, gave him a warm glow; but the real attraction was the recognition that would be his, should he win. The admiration and the approval. Correction, WHEN he won, for surely he could not fail.

****

"And it's Snape, Snape sends a bludger straight for Potter, but Potter dips and it misses him, and there's the Snitch again, he's seen it, it's Potter right on its tail, but there's Snape and OH, NO! He's been hit by Gryffindor's bludger! Straight into Potter's path, and they're down! They're both down, and they're hurt!"

****

Severus lay flat on his back and stared at the vaulted ceiling, his right arm in plaster up to his shoulder and a half empty bottle of Skele-Grow on his bedside cabinet. He was bored. Lucius had been gone for ages, Severus did not know why. Surely it was the work of a few moments to retrieve the Ars Alchemica book from his bed and fetch it to him? And then he could while away the rest of the afternoon reading the article on Wolfsbane, until he was discharged. He hoped Madam Pomfrey, the new nurse, would not feel she had to err on the side of caution and try to keep him there for too long. He had to add the final ingredients to his prize-winning potion between midnight and three in the morning, or else all his hard work would be ruined.

He looked across the ward to where James Potter was holding court with his pathetic friends, making far too much noise behind the drawn screens and disturbing Severus' peace. What a drama queen, he thought bitterly. All Potter did was graze his knee, for pity's sake. Pomfrey should have told him not to be such a baby and sent him on his way.

The infirmary door creaked open and Severus' head snapped round to see not Lucius, as he had hoped, but Madam Pomfrey. Her low heels clipped as she marched across to his bed, and she took out her wand and passed it over his arm. She frowned.

"Well, young man, those bones don't seem to want to knit!" she scolded, as if it was his fault. "You'll have to stay here another night, and that plaster won't be coming off any time soon, either!"

"What?" he said, alarmed. "But I need to - I have to - How can I use my wand like this?"

She rolled her eyes. "I would have thought that was obvious, Snape! You can't!"

Shooing Black, Lupin and Pettigrew out of her infirmary, she turned on her heel and went into her office, closing the door.

"But the competition!" he whispered to himself. "How can I win the competition now?"

He had set his heart on it, and as he stared into space his breath hitched and tears rolled down his cheeks unnoticed.

Unnoticed by Snape, at least.

By the time he got back to his potion it was ruined. There would be no time to start again, the deadline would have passed by the time it was complete. He pointed his wand at the book in a fit of pique, incinerating it with a vehement hex.

In a foul mood, he slunk across the Entrance Hall on his way to dinner. Potter and his Dream Team were sniggering and he overheard snatches of their conversation as he passed.

"Honestly, he was crying!"

"What a big baby!"

"Really, James? Was he?"

"Yeah, really! Snuffling and snivelling, he was!"

"Hey, look, there he goes now! There's 'Snivellus'!"

"Hahaha! Snivellus! Nice one, Sirius mate!"

And so it began.