When All is Lost One is Found

Chapter 13: Exploding Potions

When All is Lost One is Found

Author: Rinoaebastel

Chapter 13: Exploding Potions

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice. Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.

AN: This story may contain scenes taken from the Harry Potter movies and books, but it's not exact dialogue, just rewording of dialogue or omission. It is not marked. Originally this took place in early December according to time lines. I moved it back to November. It has no bearing on the plot.

Late November 1992

The class carried the typical noises that came with a double potions class. Bubbling cauldrons with their pops and crackles accompanied the hits of knives chopping or slicing ingredients. The fumes weren't as strong as they normally were, but that was only because everyone wasn't at the same level in the potion. Soon, the classroom would be permeated with the scents of their projects.

He stalked around the tables, studying each cauldron as he passed, some more intently than others. He took a deep breath and clinched his teeth. Half of the idiots in this class did something wrong.

He zeroed his focus in on Longbottom, whom he equated with the atomic bomb the Americans dropped on Japan in the 1940s. If he was ever in charge of naming a nuke, he'd call it the Longbottom. If anything powerful like that killed people in the wizarding world, that would be the boy to make it . . . and not with intention.

He stalked toward "the Longbottom" and he started stirring faster, making the situation worse. If he couldn't work properly with him watching, then his schooling would end quickly. Especially, if he did all the potions the way he was doing this current one.

An ingredient slipped from Longbottom's hand and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Stop that nonsense, boy. Do you want to kill everyone in this room with that thick brain of yours! Be more careful!"

"I...I'm sorry, Pro...Professor Snape."

Where was that brat Granger. Usually, she was helping him. Though not fond of her doing so, at least she ensured they'd survive the class when he wasn't looking. He spotted her from the corner of his eye. She was adding the last ingredient to the potion and looking satisfied with herself.

His gaze moved over to Potter and Weasley. Their potion was a disaster, but they didn't care. When he got to Hogwarts, he took advantage of everything he could and put in effort when it came to each task he was assigned. He expected his students to do the same, so it irked him when they didn't.

Even Longbottom tried his best. He was an ignoramus that tried his best, but he still did it...

Bloody Hell, I just praised Longbottom. He checked to make sure the fires under the cauldrons hadn't frozen over.

He sighed and turned his attention back to Longbottom, who was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick. "You should be boy, you near—"

A loud crack followed by several screams interrupted his berating.

He jerked around and saw a potion had exploded, its contents splashing on the skin of those around it, sending the smell of burnt flesh into the room along with the, thankfully, small amounts of smoke. At least the swelling potion was made past the most dangerous step. If it hadn't been. . . He shuddered inwardly.

What in the hell happened?

That didn't matter at the moment; he had to take care of these children first.

He rushed over to the front of his desk. "All those affected form a line. I'll give you an antidote."

When they didn't listen to him, he raised his voice as high as it would go. "Stop bloody crying and get in line!'

The room fell silent, but occasional whimpers emitted as the students did as directed.

First he'd heal them, and then he'd find the culprit. He took a deep breath. He knew no Slytherin would've done this in his class. They would know better. This would've never happened in the other classes either. Ravenclaws knew the dangers all too well. They valued getting potions right even though they did experiment, and wouldn't risk their grade. Hufflepuff were naïve, but they kept to the recipes and wouldn't risk hurting anyone.

That left one house, and he had his suspicions directed on three particular members of said house.

He set about fixing the affected students, his anger growing with each student he helped. This kind of dangerous act couldn't be permitted.

It was unexpected. He always thought that if an incident occurred in his classroom it would be the nervous Longbottom having an accident. These students were much too young to take a potions class. He'd brought it up to Dumbledore several times. He wanted to increase the age of his students and make potions a class for the older students, and in some cases, allow exceptional students to take them in their second year. Dumbledore said he'd consider it, but he never got back to him on it.

After the last student was healed, he made them take a seat. He stalked over to the exploded cauldron. Even if this potion went wrong, there shouldn't have been this much damage to the cauldron. He narrowed his eyes and looked inside it.

His lips twisted as he levitated the strange object from the bottom of the cauldron. He knew someone had done this on purpose, now he had evidence in his favor. Someone was going to pay, and since this was a muggle invention, he knew exactly who to blame.

"Who was the idiot who threw this into a potion?" He felt annoyed he had to keep up this front when he already knew who did it. "Did you leave your brains outside this morning? You could've killed the entire classroom, if not the entire castle, if the potion had been in a different stage!"

His eyes turned to Potter. The boy held a neutral look upon his face, but through his eyes he could tell that he was the guilty party. He had to withhold the desire to hex him. Lily would've been livid at him doing this, but his father. . . No, his father would've laughed.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back. Every student lowered their heads.

"No one is willing to admit it? Very well," he said. "Students in Slytherin may go," he said. After they left he looked at the rest of the students. "You all disgust me. Risking your classmates' lives for a prank. I want an extra essay, same size as your normal ones, about swelling potions and their dangers. In addition to that, you are to write a thousand lines of: I will not throw explosives in the cauldrons. These are due by tomorrow. Now get out of this room."

The classroom left, some of them muttering as they did so. Maybe if they suffered a bit for Potter's actions, it will teach them to call him out on them, and it would teach Potter to think of others before doing something so unsafe. If Dumbledore wasn't going to teach him a lesson, then he would.

When the last student left, he waved his hand and the classroom was clean. Moments later, the tables were repaired.

He took a deep breath and walked into his office. He needed to take a brief break before his next class came in. More Gryffindors, but at least Potter wasn't among them.

He paused and glanced over at his storeroom door. He hadn't left that open. . .

AN: Hope you liked it! Leave me your thoughts if you have time and see you next week!