Chapter 7: Glasses and the Potions Professor

The morning of the new term was unforgettable for Harry and the first-years alike. Most students buzzed about the short man Harry had uncovered yesterday, sending owls to guardians or leaking to the Daily Prophet. Draco, gleefully scanning a newspaper, said, "'Intruder at Hogwarts, Revealed as a Long-Dead Hero!' Honestly, Potter, didn't reporters swarm you? They didn't even mention you found him. That's half the story!"

"Draco, please, keep it down. It was just dumb luck," Harry muttered.

Draco's loud voice drew eyes from all four houses, much to Harry's dismay. The attention bothered him more than the article's contents.

Unfazed by Harry's discomfort, Draco crowed, "You spotted him instantly, but none of those Weasleys did, huh? Brilliant move, cozying up to them as a friend, then exposing him at the perfect moment!"

"That's not true! I didn't mean to hurt Ron," Harry protested.

His words drowned in laughter from the Slytherin table. It wasn't just Slytherins; Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, even some Gryffindors joined Draco's malicious jeering at the Weasleys. A few Slytherins, like Azrael and Greengrass, didn't laugh, visibly put off by Draco, but they were a quiet minority.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron and the twins sat, Ron's ears blazing red.

(That's not it… I just wanted to protect Ron!) Harry longed to explain, but before he could, a spell erupted from the Gryffindor table.

"Avis!" two voices chanted in unison, summoning owls that dive-bombed Draco's face. Caught off guard, he couldn't dodge. The owls burst into dungbombs, spreading a foul stench. Cheers rose from the other three houses' tables.

"Argh!" Draco yelped.

"Eww!" screamed nearby students.

The Slytherin table descended into chaos, breakfast ruined. Harry, seated beside Draco (after Azrael had fled at Draco's arrival), missed breakfast too. The twins faced heavy point deductions and punishment from Prefect Percy Weasley. Harry and Draco were cleaned with Scourgify by older students.

"Don't humiliate people in public. Reflect on that," Slytherin Prefect Garfield Gaffgarion scolded Draco, but spared him punishment or house points. Draco's stunt, costing Gryffindor points, made him a quick hero among Slytherin peers.

Harry distanced himself from Draco, sticking with Zabini, Azrael, and Farkas. In Transfiguration and Charms, he wasn't exceptional (Hermione Granger often dominated joint classes), but his preparation kept him afloat, earning points and letting him advise Farkas. In Herbology, Ravenclaws even chatted with him.

Potions class, Harry's most anticipated, began in a steamy dungeon, Professor Snape's venomous gaze unsettling him. Yet, Harry's preparation shone here. "Unlike other classes, you won't wave wands like monkeys. You'll learn the art of potions—manipulating minds, defying death," Snape declared.

Then, a trial: "Potter!" Snape barked.

Harry shot up. "Yes, sir?"

"What results from mixing powdered asphodel root with wormwood infusion?"

"Draft of Living Death, sir," Harry answered.

Snape nodded grudgingly. "Some intelligence, then. Its effects?"

"Three drops induce eight hours of sleep."

Snape berated note-less students and unfairly docked Gryffindor points. Harry's correct answer was luck—his revision had covered it. But Snape pressed on.

"And four drops?"

"It's fatal," Harry said.

"Incorrect, Potter! One point from Slytherin for your arrogance."

Students gaped. Snape never docked Slytherin points—a fact fueling other houses' resentment. Harry, Ron, and others had heard seniors warn of Snape's bias.

"The draft burdens the brain, mimicking wakefulness during sleep. Past eight hours, vital functions cease," Snape lectured. "An antidote, administered at eight hours, prevents this…" His rapid notes on obscure potions overwhelmed the class.

(Potions are fascinating, though,) Harry thought. A slight change in dosage could yield vastly different effects from the same ingredients. He grew to dislike Snape but couldn't deny potions' allure. His deduction didn't fuel Gryffindor complaints about Slytherin favoritism, at least among his year.

In Potions, Snape routinely targeted Harry, ignoring Hermione's eager hand. Wrong or unanswered questions cost points, pushing Harry to study harder. He became Slytherin's second-best potion-maker after Malfoy.

Severus Snape watched Harry Potter with bitter resentment.

Last night, he'd restrained the urge to Crucio Peter Pettigrew, fulfilling his duty. The reason? Harry. Protecting him was Snape's atonement, his purpose.

Yet, seeing James Potter's arrogant likeness in Slytherin green, lacking nobility or talent for dark arts, sickened Snape. Managing a rule-breaking Slytherin for seven years was unbearable.

Still, to shield Harry, Snape isolated him from pure-blood supremacists. All Slytherins harbored some disdain or cruelty toward Muggles. The moderate pure-blood faction, led by pardoned ex-Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy, held sway. Lucius would betray Harry the moment Voldemort returned, so Snape kept their children, like Draco, apart from him.

Worse, Snape couldn't stomach Lucius's son befriending his enemy's son.

He also excluded children of radical pure-bloods, like the Lestranges, whose families suffered for their unyielding loyalty to Voldemort. Their poverty and disgrace fueled hatred for Harry, making them dangerous.

By elimination, Harry roomed with Zabini, Azrael, and Farkas—half-bloods like Snape and Harry. They might lean toward pure-blood ideals, but the risk of them leaking Harry's secrets to Voldemort through their parents was lower. It was the least bad option.

Inwardly cursing Harry's Slytherin placement, Snape vented by likening him to James and Zabini to Sirius, channeling his stress through disdain.

Negative times negative equals positive… or does it?