Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor

Chapter 7

The next day, Harry's first class was Potions, down in the dungeons with Professor Snape. Luckily, Ron and Hermione both had the class with him and when he explained his plight, Hermione offered to share her Potions book with him, an especially generous offer considering her attachment to her books. Harry tucked his magnifying bubble, as he thought of it, into his school bag and set off down the dormitory stairs after Ron.

After only three days in the castle, he still felt nervous moving around. Shadows of chairs or tables rose in dark unexpected shapes in front of him as he crossed the Common Room. The portrait hole was invisible in the blurriness of the far wall until he got close to it and the corridors outside still seemed to close in on him. But he said nothing to Ron or Hermione, just hung back and walked slightly behind them as they descended to the dungeons.

"Hello, Miss Potter," simpered a familiar voice, unmistakably Draco's.

"Why hello, Draco," Harry said, turning around.

"I thought you couldn't see," said Draco. "How did you know it was me?"

"The smell," said Harry smugly while Ron and Hermione let out a shout of laughter. Luckily for Harry, Professor Snape opened the door of his classroom at that precise moment and Harry and his friends piled into the room, choosing their usual table. Harry's good mood did not last long, however, for as soon as Professor Snape closed the door of the Potions classroom with a bang, he rounded on the class.

"Welcome to Third Year Potions," he said, drawing his words out as if he disliked the taste of them. "You will all be expected to work extremely hard in this class. No one," he paused on the words to let their emphasis sink in to the rows of students before him. "No one will receive special treatment or consideration from me. You will all earn your grades this year."

Harry's face burned. He could not have been more singled out if Snape had called him by name. At the same time, he felt the challenge offered by the Potions Master. He would have a fair shot. No pity here. Harry squirmed at the memory of some of his other teachers making sympathetic noises and sitting him carefully in the front row as if he were made of crystal and might break. He didn't have to worry about any of that garbage from Snape. His lips firmed in to a line of determination.

"Today," said Snape, his boots taking measured steps across the stone floor, "we will be making a stress-relieving potion. Please make note of the changes I am putting on the blackboard that differ from what is written in your book." He strode to the board and began to write, his dark form blending into the blackness of the board to Harry until he seemed to be invisible. Of course the writing that flowed from the squeaking chalk did not show against the blur of blank chalkboard to Harry.

"What's it say?" he whispered to Hermione and Snape whirled around.

"No talking Mr. Potter!" he snarled. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"But," Harry said, then stopped. Apparently Snape did not plan to make this easy for him. Harry thought fast. Even sitting in the first desk in History of Magic, he'd been unable to see the blackboard or Professor Binns' ghostly face. So he knew that he needed a different solution now. He had to have that information or there was no way he'd be able to brew the potion.

The answer came unexpectedly from Hermione. Drawing a sheet of parchment from her bag, she began to quickly copy down the information Snape wrote in large, clear handwriting. When she'd finished she passed the paper to Harry, who drew it in close to his face until he could just make out the letters. He gave Hermione a grateful look and they pulled out their cauldrons and got to work.

Following Hermione's notes, Harry had little trouble chopping mask-beetles or shredding huffweed. He found his scales easy to use by touch and soon his cauldron was bubbling with a thick, murky brew, along with everyone else in the class. The next direction, however, baffled him.