Best-laid plans and all that rubbish. Despite Tom's every intention of staying out and going through Harry's first Potions class, it was Harry himself who slipped through the door, doing his best to stifle the slight tremble that coursed through his body.

He wasn't afraid, exactly. Professor Snape seemed all right, as long as you did exactly what he said, stayed quiet, and didn't make him angry. All the others said that he favored his own House, too, so at least the rest of the school shouldn't see him punish Harry too badly, should Harry slip up.

And he wasn't afraid of Gryffindor House, either. Or Ron, who was already seated on the other side of the room and shooting him angry looks beneath the unruly cap of red hair. He wanted to go over and apologize, but knew the idea was abysmally stupid.

So instead, he sat quietly at a table closer to the front, Blaise to one side and Nott to the other, and waited for their professor to arrive. Which he did, just as class started, with a dramatic flourish of robes that had Harry barely managing to suppress his flinch, and Blue murmuring in soft, desperate fear inside his head.

Professor Snape looked just as stern and foreboding as he had last night, and Harry hoped with all his might that this would go better than his classes usually did. Those classes had been tainted, though, with Dudley's presence and the poisonous words of his aunt and uncle dripped into his teachers' ears about what a bad influence he was on other children, what a frightful example he was for their Dudley, what a lazy, ungrateful whelp he constantly proved himself to be. He tried his best, he really did, but when an adult has already made up their mind about you, there's nothing more you can do, he had learned over and over.

With a start, Harry realized that Professor Snape was saying something and he scrambled to write down what it was. It might be important later, a small voice inside seemed to urge. He hadn't had much practice with the quill and despite his best efforts, liberal ink splotches soon stained the parchment. Something about bottling fame, brewing glory, and putting a stopper in Death...it sounded dreadfully fascinating, and Harry felt a small tingle of excitement spark down his spine. Perhaps Potions wouldn't be so bad after all.

Or perhaps it would, as he realized Professor Snape was leaning down right in front of him, glaring at him with all the intensity the man could muster, which was a lot. The anger seemed to lessen, however, when the Potions master took in his pitiful attempt at note-taking.

"You will be staying after class, Potter," Professor Snape informed him coolly and swept away. Harry sagged in his seat, feeling sweat trickle down his back. He felt like he'd just escaped from the jaws of a particularly ravenous lion, an impression that was not dispelled by the man's rapid-fire questioning of Ronald Weasley on the other side of the room. He hadn't the faintest the answer to any of those questions, except perhaps that a bezoar was found in the stomach of some kind of animal, wasn't it?

A goat, his head answered just as Professor Snape said it in the most biting tone he'd ever heard. Poor Weasley was redder than Harry had seen him so far, he looked like the tips of his ears were going to spontaneously combust.

Thankfully, in a moment, the whole class was set to making a boil cure potion. He'd gone over this already, he knew he had, although he was relieved when Blaise immediately appointed himself Harry's partner. Nott ended up paired with Draco at the table behind them. As he retrieved the ingredients from the store cupboard in the back of the classroom, Harry might have known it was too good to last.

Jay was bored. And when Jay was bored, things tended to happen. Which is how he ended up pushing his way out, past an oblivious Harry, to discover they were in the middle of Potions class with the greasy bastard, Severus Snape himself. And that prick Weasley, too.

A grin curved Jay's mouth as he picked out an extra handful of porcupine quills and slid them into his pocket. He might not have the brains of Raven or Tom, but he knew what would happen if he fucked with someone else's potion. Nothing good, and that's precisely what he was counting on.

As he sauntered back toward his work-station with Blaise, he noticed that Weasley had paired up with the round-faced, sniveling Longbottom. Hmm. Pity he hadn't partnered someone a bit more of a challenge to fuck with. All you had to do was look at Longbottom wrong and he'd end up falling over himself. It was pathetic, really.

Almost as pathetic as their dear host, Harry. Jay couldn't help but sneer when he thought of Harry. Stumbling, clumsy, lazy, stupid...every epithet and then some could apply to the boy, really. Harry might be a year older than Jay now, but Jay knew he was smarter. Better in every way. Hell, even his twin was better, and Blue was a wreck 90% of the time, due to that bastard Vernon beating on her so much.

He knew Tom wasn't happy about him slipping out, but he couldn't care less. He wasn't going to do anything bad. Not really. Just a little prank and who better to play it on than Weasel? Even now, the bastard kept stealing glances at Harry and mumbling something uncomfortably loud and pointed about the Dark Lord Who Lived. Despite what Tom had said at breakfast. It's not like it had worked.

"Sorry, I forgot something," Jay mumbled to Blaise and slid off the stool. Blaise merely waved him on, preoccupied with the stage of the potion they were at. It gave Jay ample time to casually slip past Weasel and Longbottom's cauldron, letting the spare handful of porcupine quills drop into the thick, goopy concoction. Their potion was a failure, anyway, Jay snickered to himself and hurried back, just as Weasel's cauldron actually managed to explode.

What the hell did you do? Tom yelled at him inside, but Jay only laughed, managing to turn it into a hoarse shout of concern. He barely missed the deluge of failed potion, but half the class wasn't so lucky. He heard Snape yelling at the Gryffindor halfwits and telling Longbottom to go to the Hospital Wing. He'd gotten the worst of it. All Jay could think was how disappointed he was it hadn't been Weasel.

You need to be more careful, Tom cautioned. You will have people noticing that something is wrong. I presume you don't wish to end up in a locked ward somewhere, nothing but a mediwizard's experiment?

Of course not, Jay scoffed as they slipped away in the crowd. He knew that Snape had wanted to see Harry, but whatever. It could wait until later. But no one's gonna notice anything anyway, unless Harry fucks up. Granted, he always fucks up.

He doesn't, but that's beside the point, Tom sighed. Just...be careful.

Always am, Jay snickered and lost himself in the press of students. Charms was next, and it was bound to be interesting.