POTIONS AND DEFENSE CLASS "𝖢𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝖣𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍."
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—ALEXANDRIA SAT DOWN NEXT TO HER PARTNER— DRACO— WITH A SIGH. "Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to Harry Potter's desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my... displeasure."
His gaze lingered this time on Neville Longbottom, who gulped.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."
His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.
Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method are on the blackboard and you will find everything you need—" Snape flicked his wand "—in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half. Start."
♡
Just as Alexandria and almost all the other students had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion.
The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.
It was a good thing that Alexandria had gotten Salazar's love of potion-making, or else she would've surely gotten the potion wrong.
"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.
Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise.
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At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face. "Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.
"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.
"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"
Draco Malfoy laughed.
"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."
Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.
"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore." His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"
"No," said Harry very quietly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."
"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce." The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
After giving her potion to Snape, Alexandria packed her bag and walked out of the classroom.
♡
When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head.
Pansy wrinkled her nose, reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. "Some people just don't know what fashion is."
Daphne elbowed her softly with a look.
"Sorry," mumbled Pansy with a shrug, not looking sorry at all.
Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be, so the class was quiet.
"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge said, when finally the whole class had sat down.
A few people mumbled 'good afternoon' in reply.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting.
Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:
