The boy who failed to die.

Year 1 Chapter 5

Waking up to the green and silver linings of the slim curtains in the Slytherin dorms is something I never imagined would happen. I take in the smell of lavender and peppermint that is gathered in the air and sigh.

This is better than I could of ever imagined. I close my eyes but open them a moment later when I feel my bed dip. Draco is standing above my bed with a smile on his face. I groan, it's too early in the morning to be staring at his face.

"What do you want Draco?" His blonde hair isn't yet gelled back and slightly covers his Grey eyes.

I stretch and sit up, knowing I won't get back to sleep now anyway. Damn you Draco, just let a boy sleep.

"It's 7:30, breakfast has already started, you coming down?" Hmm breakfast, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and some tea, sounds yummy.

Deal.

"Fine, only because I'm hungry," I tell him my tone annoyed. I close my eyes and imagine my school robes and sure enough they appear, only now it has the crest of Slytherin on it it.

I get up and head into the bathroom, I brush my teeth and splash my face with some water to wake me up. I head out of the luxury bathroom and I into the equally luxury dorms.

Potions

The potions classroom is in the heart of the dungeons. Cold and full of cobwebs as well as black and echoing really makes some people think it's the scariest class.

I sit next to my blonde friend and he is on my right. Behind me is Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bullstrode and beside me you have my useless brother and his blood traitor friend.

We are sat at the front of the class so when professor Snape dramatically enters the room he comes and stands right in front of me.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," his voice is but a whisper yet everyone around the room could hear him as though he was shouting.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

The class remains silent even after he's finished talking, he seems to have that rare gift of being able to silence a room with his mere presence.

"Potter, our beloved celebrity tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" His voice strikes like a snake in the dark. Charles looks between me and Professor Snape but I have no doubt it's Charles he was speaking to.

"I don't know sir," he finally answers barely containing the hideous sneer.

Snape also sneers and the class flinches from the obvious disdain.

Professor Snape has greasy brown hair that reaches his shoulders, his robe billows out a bit like what Dudley used to watch in vampire films.

His dark brown eyes hold no life, like an endless pit of misery and hate. His eyes snap to mine and I raise an eyebrow to him.

"We'll then, let's try again Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me the bezoar?"

He ignores the mudbloods hand and the fact that she's halfway off her seat in desperation. How pathetic. It's obvious that he's never opened a potions book in his life. His fiery red hair is messy and dirty, his skin is blotched and red from embarrassment or anger or both.