Harry Potter One Shots

Like Father, Like Son

Eleven year old Harry Potter was describe as a "good" boy. He seemed to be generally respected by his peers and teachers, and even Dumbledore seemed to admire him. They gave nothing but good reports about Harry Potter.

They described him as a smart, polite eleven year old boy who sometimes forgot to do his homework and got into some mischief like all boys do, but a good boy nonetheless. But it seemed only Severus Snape, the potions teacher at Hogwarts could see behind the facade. Maybe Potter could fool everyone at school with his goody-two-shoes, wouldn't-kill-a-fly attitude, but Snape wasn't buying it.

He could see the arrogance in Potter that shine behind his green eyes. Lily's eyes. The only good thing about the boy, Severus might add. One class with him and he already knew that he would detest Potter and try to make his life miserable for the next seven years at Hogwarts.

Potter was easy to read, he though, he was arrogant, stubborn, and had that proud, superior look in him that could rival James Potter's. He was already picking his new sidekicks, Snape thought nastily Granger and Weasley and they were often seen in the company of the incompetent Longbottom boy.

Yes, Severus Snape would not be fooled by Harry Potter's disguise. He knew that behind those vibrant green eyes, there laid another James Potter.

"Achoo!" Eleven year old Harry Potter let out a sneeze so loud that it ruffled Hedwig's feathers as she arrived at the breakfast table with the new book that he had ordered, Quidditch through the Ages.

Hedwig seem to glare at him, as if wondering if Harry had ruffled her feathers on purpose.

"Sorry, Hedwig," he sniffled as he untied the small book from her leg and placed it on the breakfast table. He gave Hedwig a piece of his toast and she gave a small hoot before she flew away.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Hermione Granger asked looking up from her Potions textbook.

Harry nodded. He had been starting to feel a little under the weather for the past few days. A sniff here, a cough there. But only until he had woken up that morning that Harry knew that he was catching a bad cold.

I really should go up to Madam Pomfrey for a pepper up potion, Harry thought, but his thoughts were interrupted by Ron who was looking at Hermione with a shock kind of awe.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" he asked with a mouth full of bacon and scrambled eggs. "We don't have potions until after lunch."

"Yes, but if you would have bothered to listen to Professor Snape then you would know that he is going to be testing our ability to make a healing potion for simple wounds." Hermione snapped, not bothering to look up from her book

Ron and Harry groaned.

"It's worth half of this terms grade." Hermione shoved the book towards them. "Study up."

"Let see," Ron squinted as he looked at the ingredients. "Seaweed, rat's tails, bat wings, porcupine quills-how is this supposed to heal anyone? Are they trying to heal them or make them worse?"

By the time Harry reached his final class of the day, Potions his headache was worse and he really wished that he was in his own bed back at Gryffindor Tower instead of the cold dungeons.

Hermione looked at him worriedly. "Are you sure you're all right Harry? You look a bit ill."

"I'm fine, Hermione." He said, hating himself for sounding annoyed, but he really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Thankfully, Ron could take a hint. "Leave him alone, look let's grab our seats almost everyone is seated already."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly slid into their seats. Snape greeted them at the front of the classroom, wearing a grim expression that was almost always reserved for funerals. "No talking." He said. "You know what to do, grab the ingredients from the student cupboard and start on your healing potion. Instructions are in the blackboard. You have forty five minutes and remember this is worth half of your term grade. Begin."