Harry awoke to find himself staring at a familiar sight.  He wondered what had happened this time that led him to being in the hospital wing once more.  ‘What on earth happened?  I remember going to Snape's class, but. . .  Hmm.  Did I annoy him this badly maybe?' 

His thoughts where broken when he noticed the presence at the end of his bed. 

The Headmaster looked over him carefully and moved closer to the boy before speaking in concerned tones.  "How are you feeling, Harry?" 

Harry looked back in confusion.  ‘What on earth is going on?  How do I feel?'

 Thinking on the question he brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them. 

"Scared. . ." he whispered.  ‘Why do I feel so scared?' 

Harry felt the bed dip as the Headmaster sat down.  "Is there anything you would like to speak to me about?" Dumbledore asked softly. 

Harry looked up at him.  There was something.  Something that nagged at him.  Something he feared.  But he couldn't remember. . . 

"What happened?" he asked. 

The Headmaster seemed taken back by the question, and looked at Harry for a moment.  "You have no recollection of yesterday's events?" 

"No Sir. . . I mean, I remember going to study that Occlu- thingy with Sna- Professor Snape.  But that's all I can remember."

"I see. . ." the Headmaster looked at him thoughtfully, then closed his eyes. 

Harry was really beginning to worry now.  What was this all about??

The Headmaster took a breath and smiled kindly at him.  "I apologise for any discomfort I may have place on you Harry.  Please put yourself at ease, and get some rest." 

Patting Harry on the shoulder, the Headmaster rose and headed towards the door, pausing briefly to look back and smile at him before leaving the ward. 

Harry lay back down and curled up tightly.  A shiver coursed through him.  He lifted his hand to wipe away a stray tear.  ‘Why am I crying?  Why do I feel so scared?' 

Confusion accompanied by a feeling of seer helplessness washed over him.  It almost felt like his body was remembering something that his mind could not quite get a hold of. 

Folding his arms around himself Harry rocked himself back into a sound sleep.  Tomorrow was another day.

----------------------- Four days later -------------------------

Harry walked the silent halls.  He enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, but alone there was only so much joy to be had. 

Despite his curiosity and strong sense of adventure, his need for companionship was greater, and the school corridors where so cold and empty without all the shouts and laughter there to fill them.  Also, with so much free time to himself, Harry could not help but let his mind wander over the past recent events. 

The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became, and the more unsettled he became, the more he thought about what was to come.

            Harry was lost within his own concerns.  So much so, it seemed, that he did not even realise where his feet where taking him. 

Coming to a halt he looked up and was surprised to see the oh so familiar, grungy door of the potions class.  ‘What did I come here for!?' the boy berated himself. 

However, before he could completely turn around to head off to another location the door was forcefully opened and a black clad figure looked down at him curiously.  "Mr Potter.  And what, may I ask, brings you here?"

Harry stared back at the man, unable to come up with and answer.  "I don't know Sir." 

Snape looked at him in contempt.  "There is an ongoing list of things that you ‘don't know' Mr Potter.  Still, I find it highly questionable that you would simply ‘happen upon my door,' or ‘drop by for a social visit'." 

Harry doubted it too.  There were fewer social skills in this man than a blast ended skrewt!

The Potions Master regarded him for a moment before stepping aside and indicating that Harry should enter. 

Harry thought that all his past endeavours combined held less danger and fewer ‘idiotic risks,' as said teacher liked to call them, than willingly entering this room alone with this man.  Yet enter he did.

Closing the door firmly behind him the Professor bypassed Harry and went to sit at his desk.  Instinct told Harry to take a place at one of the student desks whether that was what he was expected to do or not. 

Snape looked at him across steepled fingers then spoke.  "The Headmaster informs me that you have no recollection of our last class." 

It was a statement, so Harry did not trouble for an answer, he simply nodded his head in the affirmative.  Snape regarded him for another moment then picked up his quill and turned his attention back to his previously interrupted task. 

"You will find several books that have been left by past students by the cabinet containing Amaryllis leaves and Dionaea teeth.  Rather than wasting time dwelling on what cannot be undone, or getting into trouble I suggest looking over them and preparing yourself for the upcoming year."

Harry moaned inwardly.  ‘Study!?  Now?  And even if I where to study, the last subject and place I would choose is potions under Snape's nose!' 

Grumbling quietly to himself, Harry dragged himself over to the book shelf.  In the least this would give his mind something else to concentrate on.  Also, Snape wouldn't be able to accuse him of slacking off if he personally witnessed Harry's efforts.

Taking a number of random books, Harry began to flick through them in an attempt to find the ones that would be easiest to read. 

He found a number with notes jotted down the pages and took them deciding that if he did not understand something he would at least be able to read through the notes before consulting Snape.

Harry made a new record for himself.  He was able to study for a full ten minutes before he got bored and allowed his mind to wonder. 

Apparently the students who once owned these books had lost interest at some point as well as the ‘notes' that Harry had thought where jotted down the pages turned out to be various forms of graffiti and doodles. 

Harry read through the material before him.  Some things he couldn't follow, others where conversations between two people that had been sharing the book. 

He found one such conversation that stretched across a full page.  Something about transfiguring a certain Slytherin into something round and bouncy and rolling him down the grand staircase.

Harry thought back to a particular episode in the last year and giggled to himself. 

He could still remember the sheer bliss in Ron's humoured voice as he dubbed Draco with the title of ‘Malfoy.  The amazing, bouncing ferret.'

Harry's short lived mirth did not go undetected.  "Something amusing Mr Potter?"

"Sir?" Harry tried to ask innocently.

"There has been a task put to you.  I expect you to have read enough by the time I have finished writing up these documents for you to brew perfectly any which potion I may decide to set for you.  Am I understood?"

"Yes sir. . ."

Snape turned his attention back to the parchment before him, and Harry to his books.  He reluctantly closed the one he had been reading, knowing that he would be easily distracted by the running commentaries one again.  Instead he opened up the most battered and seemingly well used tome and began reading.

About five minutes into his study Harry began to feel frustration nagging at him again.  He could not understand how Hermione did it!  All he could see where words, and none too useful ones at that. 

‘Mix a quarter of a spoonful of Dragon's egg yolk with a handful of Amaryllis leaves.  Stir clockwise until the mixture turns sunset orange.  Add three fine Dionaea teeth and bamboo shoots cut one inch by two inches.  Boil cauldron to three hundred degrees Celsius then stir in grated lemon skins and leave to settle for. . . .'

Harry sighed.  How anybody could make something out of that was beyond him. 

Never the less, he spent the next hour looking over the books and ingredients before he finally gave in and let his attention be drawn to the scribbled notes along parts of the page. 

It was necessary to read them through a number of times before Harry was able to make even a basic understanding of them. 

‘Turn  anti-clock wise every third turn, except at the full moon - then use a reduced pace.'

‘While heating stir slowly.'

The boy looked at the page as if it was some sort of cross between an impossibly difficult riddle and the answer to all his lives problems. 

He wanted to test the alternate set of instructions for himself, but he highly doubted that Snape would be all too pleased if he started making up his own solutions in class.  ‘Best hide the book and look at it later.'    

 Snape stood up from his desk and walked over to the quiet student.  "You know where the equipment is kept Potter.  Set out a table and I shall hand your instructions to you."

Harry did so without a word, but without any enthusiasm either.  Much to his expectations Snape, the git that he was, had chosen the hardest possible draught for Harry to make. 

‘At least I was able to talk him into giving me something to copy from.  Not that it helps!'

Also as expected, the session ended with Harry's ‘none too amber green, but more pastel grey sludge' being vanished by a flick of Snape's wand, and a mean sneer. 

"For someone who held concerns about the safety of the future only a short few days ago, you have shown absolutely no interest in attaining skills that could very well save lives in said future.  Where exactly did all that freshly revised knowledge go hmm?  Or is a full two minute span too much for your memory to keep up with?"

Harry flamed.  "It wasn't like I wasn't trying!  You saw me yourself!  I followed the instructions exactly!" 

"Obviously not Potter because if you had, you would now be bottling a perfect sample of The Draught of peace!" Snape snarled back.

Shaking angrily Harry gritted his teeth.  No way was he going to back down from this injustice.  He really had tried! 

"It's not my fault that the instructions aren't clear enough!"

He waited the blow.  Surely Snape would pin this all down to his ‘arrogant nature,' saying that ‘only Harry would think himself better than years of study and practice.'  He was greatly surprised, therefore, at the lack of an immediate reprimand and insult.

Snape stood quietly for a moment thoughtfully before he asked, "And why, Mr Potter, would you presume that the problem lies within the pages of professionally recommended documents and not your incompetent self?"

Harry glared at the insult but decided not to bite back, instead he stated the simple truth of what had been on his mind since his first ever potions class.

"They don't make sense!  The things we are told to do could be done in so many different ways it's impossible to follow!" 

Seeing that Snape wasn't looking to interrupt any time soon he took a breath and slowed his speech, thinking more on what it was he wanted to say.

"I mean, ‘a quarter spoon of Dragon eggs yolk.'  Well how big is the spoon supposed to be?  Or, ‘turn clockwise for three minutes.'  How fast?  Why clockwise?  Around the edges or in the middle??"  Harry finished his rant with a sigh.  No doubt he had just made a complete fool of himself and now Snape was, yet again, going to ‘put him in his place.'

"Not bad Mr Potter."

‘Wha-!???'

"Not many students realise the problems you have just pointed out, however-"

‘Ah.  Here it comes.'

"Those who do usually possess the intelligence needed to work through these problems.  While it is probable that I am taking a shot at the impossible, I want you to re-look at this draught and bring back an emended version of the published directions in two days."

Never in one day had Harry felt such an array of conflicting emotions. 

He was annoyed that his Professor found it necessary to insult him in every sentence he spoke, but thrilled that for once Snape had considered one of his thoughts to have real meaning.  He felt hard done by that he only had two days in order to prove himself, but excited at the prospect of finally doing something that the man would have to accept as good work.

After being dismissed from the dungeon, Harry headed straight for the library.  He wanted to take some books with him to Gryffindor tower.  Of course he had also brought the fabulous tome that had started all of this.  He had shoved it into his robes while putting the other books back onto the shelf, and fortunately Snape had been to preoccupied to notice.

‘Property of the Half-blood Prince.  I wonder who that is?  Well, whoever it is, I owe them one!'

--------------------- Two and a half days later ------------------------

Harry made his way sleepily down to the dungeons.  He had hardly slept at all while working on his ‘assignment.'  Although not one for study, he had been determined to make Snape eat his words by proving that he could succeed when he really wanted to.

Of course, it was necessary in the end to get some outside ‘help.' 

‘Nothing wrong with it.' Harry had reasoned with himself.  ‘Nobody can be expected to learn things on their own anyway, and ‘interviewing' the right people is just another form of research.' 

That was his excuse anyway.  What all that really meant was that he had gotten stuck and written to Hermione explaining what he was doing. 

Of course she was somewhat indignant in her letter back about him disregarding school books in the way he had done, she had said that she was pleased to help and proud of him for his ‘realisation of the value of hard study.'

With her return letter she had sent Hedwig back to Hogwarts with a package that took about four other owls to carry. 

Harry's shoulders slumped when he opened it to find a whole array of science and chemistry books.  ‘What?  I have to study muggle science as well?  When will it end?'

Never the less, Harry opened each of the books in turn and attempted to absorb whatever knowledge they had to offer him. 

Funnily enough it was only after he had reached the end of his patience for it all and thrown a heavy volume across the library table one day that a revolutionary piece of information fell into his lap.

‘CRYPTOZOOLOGY - A Study of magical and mythical creatures.' 

It was a muggle book about the wizarding world.  Originally Harry only picked it up for laughs.  A sort of curiosity as to how the wizarding world was seen by normal muggles. (‘Normal' being, not magic hating, heartless people like is relatives.)

The revolution came on a page about werewolves.  The curse was likened to a form of muggle illness that infects the blood and is affected greatly by the gravitational pull generated by a full moon.

Harry flipped clumsily back to the page about ‘stirring on a full moon,' and laughed.  It was so obvious! 

Magic is a force like any other.  Gravity, friction, the lot!  But different in its own right, which is why only certain people could use it. 

Potion making involved ‘putting different ingredients in a pot and mixing it all up,' but anybody can do that.  If it was as basic as simply ‘cooking something up' even muggles would be doing it!  For a potion it took that little bit extra to make it work to perfection.

Harry smiled to himself.  This was a feeling that he never expected he could get from studying.  He would have likened it more to, winning his first Quidditch match, or for the first time in his life having woken up to having Christmas presents! 

He wondered briefly if this was the feeling that Hermione always sought out in her relentless swotting. 

       ---------------

            Parchment complete and head held high Harry knocked on the large oak doors in the darkened hall of the dungeons.  He heard the Professor order him in and obeyed readily.

As usual, Snape was sat at his desk with a quill in hand.  He looked up at Harry as the boy neared him. 

Wordlessly Harry handed over what felt like his greatest achievement to date and Snape read over it carefully. 

After what seemed like hours Snape lifted his gaze from the parchment turned it to Harry.  "Not bad Potter.  You have still failed to grasp some of the finer details that truly make Potion making such a meticulous and fascinating art, but you have undoubtedly shown at least some skill in the subject."

Harry's jaw dropped as he gaped, first disbelievingly then furiously at Snape.  "Not bad?  Not bad!!!?  I spent an entire two days on thinking up an entirely new formula and all you can say is ‘Not bad!?'" 

Snape's jaw set and ice filled his words despite his obvious efforts to appear calm and indifferent.  "In light of your history in my classes Mr Potter, you have made an improvement.  However, if you came here with the expectation that I was going to shower you with praise for a ‘flawless masterpiece' after two days of studying what you have had four years to figure out, you were sorely mistaken."

Harry blushed.  Snape was right, of course.  The man always was. . .  But it still hurt that he didn't show some kind of genuine approval to his efforts.  Even if he was slow in getting to this point, he had still worked hard on it. . .

"Maybe if you where to teach me better I would have figured it out sooner." Harry spat bitterly.  Then he panicked.  He didn't mean for that to come out, it just did!

"What?" Snape spat back.

"I don't know Sir! Okay?  Are you happy now?  I'm not as good at potions as you are!"

Snape's lips twisted into a strange cross between a sneer and a smirk.  "Clearly." he said silkily.  "But I assure you Mr Potter, as much as you seem to believe it true, I am not here to watch you fail."

‘Yeah.  Right.'

"Lose the face Potter!  If you actually applied yourself once in a while you would not be scraping D's all the time.  You have proven that you are capable of understanding the complex nature of this subject, but are continually let down by your infuriating stance that if you do not reap the rewards of hard work immediately, you allow for your laziness and impassiveness to take over.  Thus!  Causing you to fail completely!" 

Harry stood momentarily shocked for a moment. 

‘Snape care's if I pass?  I wonder what Dumbledore told him. . . Maybe he'll get sacked if I do fail.'  

He then slumped again at the reality of his situation.  ‘If I want to pass I have to keep up all this study?  And this was without my other subjects.  Stuff that!  But, if I fail now Snape'll never let me live it down. . .  Ugh!  Stupid revelation!  Why couldn't I just be stupid and fail potions easily!' 

The Professor broke his trail of thought.  "Of course, I shall be expecting much more out of you from now on."

Harry groaned.  An action that the Professor was not at all impressed with by the look of his face. 

"Of course," he sneered.  "We could not expect the great ‘Boy-who-lived' to be burdened with the tedious and average task that all common students are expected to carry."

"It's not like that!" Harry flared.  "I study!  A lot in fact!  I just-  . . I just. . ."

Snape watched him, but said nothing.  "I-" 

‘Don't say it!  Don't tell that!!!'

"I can't do it on my own. . ."

‘NOoooooo!  What on EARTH did you do that for!?!  Why don't you just hand over your journal and let him read it out in class!'

Harry didn't look up.  His fists where scrunched up tightly at the pain of revealing that information to that man.  He could not bear to look up and see that contemptuous grin that the Professor was sure to have.

Instead he could hear it in the mans voice.  However, strangely, there was no mockery to be heard there. 

"Well, I suppose that responsibility would fall to me, wouldn't it."

Harry looked up, unsure as to where the Potions Master was going with this. 

Snape looked at him without expression and continued.  "You will report here at ten Am tomorrow morning Potter, and be sure to bring your school equipment with you."

For a short while longer Harry stared before Snape leaned forward to clarify what his next action was to be.  "You are dismissed Mr Potter." 

Harry did not need telling twice.  He aimed for the door at a hurried pace and headed on up to Gryffindor tower to get some well earned rest.

‘More lessons with Snape?  Why can't I get away from that man?  Why did he seem so concerned about how well I did in class?  It's not like he has any reason to care!  But then why did he save my life?  Agh, I'm too tired for this.  Time for bed.'