Potions And a New Family Member

Finally, Friday arrived, and with it, the dreaded double Potions class. Damian was paired with Daphne for this one, and as they sat waiting, the door slammed open, startling the class. Snape swept in, his black cloak billowing dramatically as if carried by an invisible wind. His eyes locked onto Harry immediately.

"Ah, our new—celebrity," he drawled, his voice thick with disdain.

He began the class with a speech that seemed more like a performance. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." His eyes flicked towards Harry again, this time with a cold glint.

Snape wasted no time in firing three rapid questions at Harry: 

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 

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

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry had no clue, of course, and Snape made a point of ignoring Hermione, who was practically vibrating in her seat with her hand raised. When Harry failed to answer, Snape's eyes darkened, and he deducted ten points from Gryffindor. As if that wasn't enough, he snapped at Hermione, forcing her to sit down after she had eagerly tried to answer.

Then Snape turned his attention to Damian.

"And you, Black?" he asked, his tone menacing. "Can you answer these questions?"

Damian gave his responses calmly: "Powdered root of asphodel and wormwood make the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite."

Snape's expression soured even more, and Damian knew he hadn't helped the situation. "Sit down," he snapped, before turning his glare on the rest of the class. "Why aren't any of you copying this down?"

They were soon assigned the task of brewing a Burn-Healing Paste. Damian and Daphne worked well together. He copied down the instructions while she gathered the ingredients. The lesson proceeded smoothly until, predictably, Neville's potion went horribly wrong, melting through the cauldron and burning a hole in the table. Snape blamed Harry, of course, deducting another five points from Gryffindor for not stopping Neville before the mistake happened.

Damian turned around to see Blaise looking confused.

"That's not supposed to happen," Blaise muttered, peering into his own potion that had turned an unsettling shade of green. He had partnered with Tracey, who was also looking quite lost.

Soon their potions were completed. After bottling their potion and submitting it to Snape, Damian received an "Acceptable." It wasn't much, but at least he didn't dock any points. As the class ended, Snape assigned them a six-inch essay on the importance of potions, and Damian left with relief. This class was not bad.

As they left the Potions class, the sounds of complaints from the Gryffindors grew louder. Most of them were grumbling about how unfair it was that Snape had cost them points. Unsurprisingly, Ronald Weasley had the loudest mouth, whining endlessly about Snape's bias. Damian ignored their complaints, along with the smug comments from Draco and the others, who were reveling in Gryffindor's misfortune.

"Honestly, do they ever stop whining?" Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's not like it was unexpected."

"Snape only took, what, a few points from Potter?" Blaise said, looking amused. "And they're acting like the world's ending."

"They always overreact," Tracey added with a smirk. "It was Potter's fault for not paying attention or reading beforehand. Anyone could see Snape was waiting for him to slip up."

Damian agreed. "The questions that were in the first chapter of the book. Any idiot who had opened the books could have answered at least one of them."

"They can keep complaining about something that is their fault," Daphne said coolly. "While we will keep winning."

Draco chuckled. "Exactly."

Slowly they made their way towards the Slytherin common room. The students were still discussing this, but Damian's thoughts were elsewhere.

Flashback

He sat in the dimly lit dining room of Grimmauld Place, the heavy curtains drawn to keep the outside world at bay. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust, the atmosphere sombre and steeped in memories of a family long gone. Damian tapped his fingers against the mahogany table, his mind running through the countless things he had planned during his time in this house.

"Kreacher," he called, his voice steady but gentle, knowing the impact of what he was about to reveal.

With a faint crack, Kreacher appeared in front of him.

"M-Master Damian," Kreacher croaked, bowing low as always. "What does young Master need of Kreacher?"

Damian took a breath, locking eyes with the house-elf. "I know about Regulus," he began quietly, watching as Kreacher stiffened at the mention of the name. "I know what he tried to do with the locket—how he wanted to destroy it."

Kreacher's wide eyes filled with an emotion Damian hadn't seen before. His hands trembled as they clutched the tattered rag he used as clothing. "Master Regulus… he… he was brave, but Kreacher couldn't… couldn't fulfil his last wish. Kreacher failed, Master Damian. Kreacher failed…" His voice broke, and Damian could hear the pain he carried for so many years, festering like an open wound.

He leaned forward, his voice firm but filled with understanding. "You didn't fail, Kreacher. Regulus made sure you survived, and now… I'm going to help you finish what he started. We're going to destroy the curse on the locket, just as he wished."

For a moment, Kreacher stood frozen. Then, his watery eyes filled with emotion, something between disbelief and hope. He dropped to his knees, his frail body shaking as he grasped the edge of the table, tears spilling freely now.

"M-Master Damian… Kreacher… Kreacher never thought…" His voice cracked with emotion, and for a house-elf so accustomed to the cold treatment of the Blacks, it was a poignant moment.

Damian placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. "Regulus didn't die for nothing, Kreacher. I promise you that. We'll finish this together."

Kreacher sobbed softly, nodding as he clutched Damian's hand in gratitude.

Damian sat back in his chair, watching as Kreacher wiped his eyes, the glimmer of hope still shining through his tears. "Kreacher," he began, the weight of what he was about to propose heavy on his heart, "I need your help with something important."

Kreacher looked up, the flicker of curiosity battling against the storm of doubt in his eyes. "What does Master Damian need from Kreacher?" he asked, his voice still quivering.

"I want to find a male and female house-elf who are free," Damian said, choosing his words carefully. "I believe the Black family could benefit from having more house-elves. But I need you to locate them."

A deep frown creased Kreacher's face, and Damian could see the anxiety creeping in. "Master wants more house-elves? Kreacher is already here! Kreacher is loyal! Kreacher serves the Black family well!" His voice rose in pitch, and Damian could sense a hint of hysteria beginning to bubble beneath the surface.

"Kreacher," he said, trying to keep his tone calm and soothing, "I'm not trying to replace you. You've served this family for a long time, and your loyalty means everything to me. If anything, I want to elevate your position."

His wide eyes flickered with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "How can Kreacher be elevated? Kreacher is old. Kreacher be a servant."

"If you help me find two new house-elves," he continued, maintaining eye contact to reassure him, "I will raise your position to Head House-Elf of the Black family. You would be in charge, respected by all. It would be your chance to lead and not just serve."

Kreacher paused, the idea seemingly taking root in his mind. He sat there, his brow furrowing deeper as he processed Damian's words. Damian could see the internal battle he was waging, torn between loyalty and the fear of being replaced.

After a long moment of silence, Kreacher's expression softened, and a glimmer of hope flickered back to life in his eyes. "Head House-Elf…" he murmured, almost to himself. "Kreacher be in charge?"

"Yes!" Damian affirmed, leaning in closer. "You would have the authority to oversee the other house-elves and ensure they work properly. I want you to lead this change."

Kreacher considered this, his fingers twitching as he thought it over. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, and Damian could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he envisioned the possibilities.

"Very well, Master Damian," he finally said, a hint of determination in his voice. "Kreacher will help you find two house-elves. But if they are found, Kreacher will hold the position you promise!"

Flashback ends

As he reached his dormitory, a wave of anticipation washed over him. He called for Kreacher, his heart racing with excitement. Moments later, Kreacher appeared with a pop, a look of pride on his face.

"Master Damian!" he said, his voice filled with eagerness. "Kreacher has found a house-elf!"

With that, he vanished for a moment, only to return with another house-elf by his side. The new elf was smaller than Kreacher, with large, timid eyes and a face that looked young. He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly nervous.

"Master Damian," he squeaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is you the new master?"

"Yes, I am," he replied, trying to sound reassuring. "What's your name?"

"I am Timmy, sir," he said, bowing his head low, his ears flopping comically with the motion.

"Timmy, it's nice to meet you. Kreacher, how do we bond with him?" he asked, eager to establish the connection.

"To bond, Master Damian, you be touch Timmy's head," Kreacher explained, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "The magic will do the rest."

He approached Timmy, who looked up at him with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Gently, he placed his palm on Timmy's head, feeling a warm, golden glow envelop his hand. The magic surged through him, connecting them in an instant. He felt the bond form, and Timmy's posture relaxed slightly.

"Welcome to the family, Timmy," he said with a smile.

Kreacher's expression turned a bit sombre. "Kreacher is sorry, Master Damian. There were no female house-elves available. Kreacher searched many places."

"For now, this is fine, Kreacher," he reassured him. "You did a good job. Thank you."

Timmy's eyes widened at the praise, and he could see a flicker of joy replacing the elf's initial shyness. "Thank you, Master Damian! Timmy will serve you well!"

"Good," he replied, then became serious. "Now, Timmy, I need you to be invisible and make your way to the seventh floor, across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Once there, you'll head back to Black Manor without getting caught. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master Damian! Timmy can do that!" he exclaimed, determination shining in his eyes.

"And Kreacher," he continued, turning to the older elf, "I'll call for you before midnight. Be ready with the locket to give to me."

"Of course, Master Damian. Kreacher will be prepared," he said, his demeanour shifting back to that of a dutiful servant.

With everything in place, he watched as Timmy concentrated, the magic cloaking him in a shimmering invisibility. "Good luck, Timmy," he said, watching him disappear from sight.

He went through the plans in his head before reinforcing his Occlumency shields and moved to the common room to enjoy time with his friends.