★ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ★

The potion's master

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of  garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Alex was very relieved to find out that she wasn't behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start. Friday was an important day for Alex, Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge. 

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Alex taking a bite of her cereal.

Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor house, but it hadn't stopped her giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. Just then, the post arrived. Alex had got used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on to their laps. Hades hadn't brought Alex anything so far, who would send me letters anyway she thought. He didn't fly in like Hedwig who sometimes flew in to nibble Harry's ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, he fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl with Hedwig who dropped a note on to Harry's plate. 

"Meet my owl, Hades" she said stroking him as Harry tore his letter open at once.

"Dear Harry," Harry read out loud "I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. Hagrid"

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled 'Yes, please, see you later' on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again. It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to them so far. At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him. Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. 

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity." Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands and Alex rolled her at Snape. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead and Alex looked bored. 

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was and then to Alex who had her signature smirk; signifying that she knew. Hermione's hand had shot into the air. 

"I don't know, sir," said Harry. 

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" 

"Snape has an clear obsession with Harry. Should it be Snarry or Harnape?" Alex asked Hermione with playful smirk to which she responded with a scowl and went back to trying to catch Snape's attention by stretching her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry looked didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. 

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. 

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling. 

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" 

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye and Seamus winked and Alex biting her lip, trying not to laugh. Looking at this he felt a sense of triumph, he managed to make her laugh, a genuine real laugh. Snape, however, was not pleased. 

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information ,Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter." He was met by one of Alex's glares. Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.  

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Alex and Hermione, who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Faxon – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point lost for Gryffindor." This was so unfair that Alex opened her mouth to argue, but Hermione kicked her behind their cauldron. 

"Don't push it," she muttered. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

"I'll be the judge of that" she muttered under her breath