Another World

13-Potions Class

Harry never thought he would meet someone who hated him more than the Dursleys did. But that was exactly who he met during his first potions class at Hogwarts. Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin, and apparently, a complete and utterly foul person.

The morning started fairly well, other than the fact that Draco had pushed him off the bed to wake him up since they woke up quite late. They were lucky as their supposed alarm clock was the chiming hand mirror from Remus' call. Harry could only leave a message before bolting out the door with his stuff along with Draco. They quickly washed up and rushed to the main hall, huffing from the number of stairways they had to go through.

"Remind me to set an alarm before bed next time. I don't think I can survive this way," Draco breathed out, using his hands to smooth back his hair.

They entered the hall together and headed towards Blaise, who was waving like a madman.

"What have we got today?" Draco asked, pouring honey into his citrus tea.

"Double Potions first with the Gryffindors," Blaise chuckled, "I hope we'll see that redhead again."

Draco, "What for?"

Harry, "Which one?"

They looked at each other. "What? I have eyes, there's clearly more than one," he defended himself.

"Fair enough," Draco admitted, but Harry could tell he wasn't very satisfied with the fact that there were more of them.

Potions took place a few corridors to the Slytherin Common Room. The rumor was that Snape dislike children, therefore he only favored the ones who made it to his Honors class.

The classroom itself was quite creepy as there were no windows. Only shelves upon shelves of glass containers and jars of pickled animals, eyes, and other liquids that Harry would very much like to not know about.

Snape started the class by taking the roll call. Once he had gotten to Harry's name, Harry could have sworn he saw a flash of hatred. But Snape just smirked and continued.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, cold and empty, like the color or the darkest space of the ocean.

"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.

Strangely, Harry could tell Prof. 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 that little speech.

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

"Draught of Living Death," Harry answered by default. It was the potion in that one muggle adapted story book Remus loved so much, Sleeping Beauty.

Snape continued questioning, determined to find a weak point.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A goat, or the potions cupboard would do fine too." Harry could hear clapping behind him as most of the students were impressed.

"So you at least know the basics, Potter."

Harry forced himself to keep looking into those cold eyes.