Harry Potter and the Silent Dead: Book 1

Chapter 8: Pensive Potions, and potent emotions

Harry walked through the halls, glad to know his way around already. It would make twilight exploring so much easier. Sally had told him the castle was a wonderful place to explore, soaked in magic and mystery. And everyone knew it was best to go exploring at night. It was just obvious. Besides, as much as he liked his friends, he was used to having time to himself, so this would be a good opportunity to do so. At least he had that to look forward to, he thought as he walked to potions. At breakfast this morning, he'd gotten the impression that Professor Snape disliked him. He'd soon find out he was 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, but Severus put up with it, because it was the one place that rarely had student loitering about. Solace, it was something the dour potions master prized more than anything. He slammed open the door as he entered, cloak billowing, and watched with satisfaction as the first years jumped, and then watched on in fear and awe. Stalking up to his desk, he pulled down the blinds, dousing the classroom in darkness. He spun around, glaring down at the children before him. Yet another year of this tediousness. He started the class by taking the register, pausing only upon reaching a name he had dreaded seeing all term. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "Mr Harry Potter. Our new- celebrity." His comment was met with silence, and puzzled frowns. For a moment, Severus was caught off guard, looking at the boy. He didn't look as much like potter as he would have expected. His skin was a pale alabaster, so pale he could be mistaken for a ghost in the shadows. His almond shaped emerald eyes almost seemed to glow. His hair was silky and black, unlike the appalling crows nest of James Potter. All Severus could see was Lily, and his heart clenched at the sudden unexpected pain of his long dead friend. Reinforcing his Occlumency shields, he stepped forward checking the boys uniform. Bronze and blue, now wasn't that a surprise. Severus, like the rest of the school, had been shocked when Potter had been put in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. He'd been even more shocked when his godson had proceeded to befriend the boy! What was Potter playing at? Surely he knew that the Golden Boy was above a lowly death eater? He just hoped Draco wouldn't be too disappointed when Potter decided he was too good for him. Looking away at the eerily familiar eyes, he finished calling names and took his seat.

Harry watched on, worried at the way the professor was watching him. His eyes were black, and held no warmth. They were cold and empty, and made him think of dark tunnels. He was tempted to slip in using Legilimency and see what the man was thinking, but had a feeling this wizard was not one to be taken lightly. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering 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." Harry smiled slightly at the speech, he could clearly see how passionate the man was about the subject. If it was anything like the basics of Alchemy Elder had taught him, this should be a breeze. Perhaps then the man would lay off on him. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He looked up quickly at the question, panicking. The only people who knew he was mute were his house-mates. He looked at Terry, who nodded slightly at him. He took a deep breath preparing to use flagrante when the man interrupted him. "Not deigning to answer Potter? Too good to respond to a teacher? Or perhaps you are simply to idiotic to open your textbook before walking into my classroom?" Every Raven bristled at that, insulted that he would call any Ravenclaw idiotic, the very thing their house went against. Terry leaned forward. "But sir..." Snape whipped around and glared, a look so fierce that the Hufflepuffs shrunk in their seats and Terry immediately sat back down. "If Harry wasn't concentrating on holding back his dark and angry aura, he would have been impressed with the man's strength. "Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would I find a bezoar?" Harry also knew the answer to this one, but only had time to conjure a single flame above his head before the professor slammed his hand down against the desk. "No? Very well, what is the difference between Monkshood and wolfsbane?" At this Harry stood glaring at the man, done with this ridiculous and unfair attack. "Asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion known as the draught of living death, a bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat, Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same thing also known as aconite and I didn't answer you sir, because I can't. I'm mute!"