Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 2

Harry sat in the dingy dungeon classroom beside Hermione, waiting for his first potions lesson to begin.

The start of his time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was, so far, even better than he could have imagined it to be, and although he had never had a particular penchant for chemistry, he was mildly interested in what the first year potions might entail.

The doors of the classroom were flung open just then and Professor Snape stalked into the room, his deep voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

 “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class,” the man said, reaching the front of the room and turning swiftly on his heel to face them. “As such… I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those… select few who possess the predisposition… I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses…”

That sounded pretty cool. Harry whipped out his quill and began to write.

 “…I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death….”

He wasn’t the best with a quill just yet, but his writing was definitely getting better.

 “…Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not… pay… attention…” 

A sharp nudge from Hermione brought Harry to his senses and he placed down his quill sheepishly, realising the professor’s words were aimed at him.

The pregnant pause followed, before the man crossed the classroom into a more central position.

 “Mr Potter. Our new celebrity,” he began.

Harry frowned. Perhaps this wasn’t the man from his dreams after all. He had never been so unkind.

 “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape asked.

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air, but Harry simply shook his head, clueless.

 “You don’t know? Well, let’s try again. Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione’s hand again, yet Harry was still none the wiser.

 “I… I don’t know sir,” he said quietly, ignoring the pitying glances from Ron, two seats down.

 “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolf’s bane?” the professor asked.

Hermione’s hand remained in the air.

 “I don’t know sir,” Harry admitted, feeling utterly miserable.

 “Pity,” said Snape, flatly. “Clearly, fame isn’t everything, is it Mr Potter?”

“Clearly, Hermione knows. Seems a pity not to ask her,” Harry shot back, incensed.

A hum of laughter filled the classroom.

Harry knew he shouldn’t have done it immediately, and he didn’t know what had possessed him. He was taking it personally. Had he expected something different from the potions master? He wasn’t entirely sure, though even he was old enough to know that dreams and reality were very, very different.

 “Silence,” Snape warned the other students.

And then he made his way over to the bench at which Harry sat, snatching a stool from the row in front and coming down to his level, ordering Hermione to put her hand down as he did.

 “For your information Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolf’s bane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite,” Snape told him.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak a word throughout the speech. He might have been impressed with the professor’s knowledge, had something else not distracted him.

It had hit his nostrils the moment Snape had come to sit in front of him – the faint scent of sandalwood, mixed with an aroma of other herbs and spices.

 “Well? Why aren’t you all copying this down?” Snape asked.

His classmates scrambled for their quills, and as he man stood back up, Harry up his own.

 “And Gryffindors, note that five points will be taken from your house, for your classmate’s cheek,” the teacher said, sitting at his own desk.

Hermione gave him a look, but Harry brushed it off.

He was going to stay behind after the class, and do a little questioning of his own.

OOOOOOO

Harry hung back as the rest of his classmates packed up their things at the end of the lesson, excited chatter filling the classroom as they readied themselves to move down to the Great Hall for lunch.

 “You coming mate? I’m starving,” Ron said, pushing his stool under the bench.

 “I’ll catch you up Ron,” Harry said quietly, watching as the rest of the class filtered out of the room.

 “Are you alright?” the redhead asked, evidently reluctant to leave his new friend alone in the dungeons with Snape.

Harry nodded reassuringly. “Fine. I just have to uh… I have a question about the homework assignment, that’s all.”

Ron nodded his head and headed out of the classroom at a jog, in an attempt to catch up with Seamus and Neville.

The classroom was silent then, and for a moment Harry thought his teacher hadn’t noticed him there, as the dour man didn’t so much as lift his head from the piece of parchment he was writing on.

But then;-

 “Run along, Potter. Your fans will be awaiting you.”

Ignoring the jibe, Harry made his way to the front of the classroom, hoping his face didn’t betray him in his attempt to act calm and confident.

Snape stopped writing and looked up at him.

 “What is it Potter? It may have escaped your notice, but this lesson has ended.”

 “I… I wanted to ask you something, sir,” he began, his voice wavering a little.

 “What is it?” the teacher asked impatiently. “Contrary to popular belief I do have better things to do with my time than spend it chatting with first years, you know?”

Harry exhaled. The man was being unnecessarily rude, and it lit something inside of him.

 “I was just wondering, why did you have to pick on me like that?”

Snape put down his quill. “I beg your pardon?”

 “I’m sure you know that I wouldn’t have the first clue about potions. I didn’t even know I was a wizard until a few days ago,” Harry said, hotly. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to answer those questions, and I just don’t think it was very fair, sir.

A dangerous silence followed, before Snape stood up and moved towards him.

Subconsciously, Harry took a tentative step backwards, but the tall man stopped several paces in front of him.

 “As you grow, Mr Potter, I am sure you will find that life often isn’t fair. And I can assure you that your lack of knowledge regarding your abilities will not excuse you in this classroom. Students who are muggle-born – or in your case, muggle-raised – have no cause to be any less knowledgeable than their peers. The insufferable girl to your left proves that on a daily basis,” he said, silkily. “However, if you do not wish to be called upon like that in future, I suggest you consider paying attention.”

“I was paying attention. I just don’t know why you have to be so mean. You were never mean in… in…” Harry began.

Snape raised a brow. “Yes?”

Harry didn’t continue, realising how ridiculous his next sentence would have sounded.

 “What are you blathering about, Potter?” the teacher asked, looking confused.

 “Nothing, sir. It’s… nothing,” Harry sighed, picking up his bag and making his way towards the door.

 “Mr Potter?”

Harry turned back to look at the professor. “Yes sir?”

Snape watched him for a moment before he spoke again, his tone noticeably softer.

 “Perhaps a trip to the library? ‘A Young Wizard’s Guide to Potions’ makes excellent reading and should put you where you need to be to catch up. You may also find page 27 of interest, should you struggle with the homework assignment.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, Harry left the classroom with a swing in his step, his faith restored. There was something about the potions master, and he intended to find out what.

OOOOOOO

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