Chapter - 70 : Challenges and Choices part - 3

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Harry rolled his eyes at him. "I see people's characters and their future potential, which - despite what you may think - doesn't rely on their blood status."

Yet Harry wasn't nearly as calm as he pretended. Dean Thomas was a half-blood! Well, actually Harry had already known that, but in his old world Dean had only found out after he'd left school. His wizard father had died in the first war, before ever telling his wife the truth about magic. She'd had no way to know that her husband had died - she thought he'd just walked out of the house one day and abandoned her. Dean Thomas had grown up with his father's name but very little else to remind him of the man. He'd lived with his muggle mother and step-father and had considered himself a perfectly normal muggleborn. It was only once the Ministry had begun rounding people up and forcing them to go through a blood-testing that Dean had finally discovered the truth.

Obviously that version of events was very different from what had happened in this universe. Harry supposed Dean's father must have survived the war and lived to raise his son, and wondered what possible consequences this could have for the talented artist and Westham football fan who he'd known in his old world.

He was still pondering this when Snape swept past them and ordered them into the classroom for the start of the Potions lesson. Harry immediately took a seat beside Neville, hoping to prevent the clumsy boy from melting his cauldron and gaining Snape's ridicule. Although Harry might not actually be doing him any favours, since Snape would very probably harass Sirius Black's son and whoever was unfortunate enough to work with him.

The rest of the class divided themselves up into pairs from the same House, with Ron, Seamus and Dean having to share a cauldron. The three boys did not appear to be happy that Neville was sitting with the 'enemy', but the plump boy just stared back at them defiantly. Harry was pleased to glimpse this rare sign of confidence in the normally timid boy, as well as to see Hermione sitting with Daphne - those two girls seemed to get on surprisingly well.

The Potions Professor glared around at the class as they fumbled to set up their cauldrons and vials of ingredients. Under his heavy gaze the students immediately fell silent and gave him their full attention.

"Potions brewing is a precise art - the slightest mistake can have disastrous consequences," Snape began without preamble. "Too much of a certain ingredient can turn a healing draught into a poison and stirring too vigorously or too slowly can cause a potion to explode - possibly leading to debilitating injuries."

Beside Harry, Neville gulped nervously. Several other students shifted uneasily in their seats, as if wondering whether to make a run for it or not. Harry himself was rather taken aback by Snape's speech; there was no mention of simmering cauldrons or shimmering fumes or whatever else Harry had heard the first time he'd lived through this class. This time Snape wasn't lecturing his students on the beauty of his subject, but only impressing upon them the dangers involved.

"I will not tolerate any tomfoolery. Anyone who thinks it would be a good idea to play a prank in my classroom is risking expulsion. They will certainly never be allowed to return to any class of which I am the teacher. There will be no second chances given," Snape said, his gaze lingering on the Gryffindor side of the room. Once he caught sight of Harry sitting with Neville, his eyes narrowed even further. "I demand nothing less than your best effort and your total concentration. Turning up to a lesson unprepared will lead to point losses and detention. Black! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Immediately Hermione's hand shot into the air, but this time Harry knew the answer. "A draught of living death, sir," he said, trying to make his tone as respectful as possible.

"And where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry was tempted to say 'in the potions cupboard' just to see how Snape would react, but decided to stick with his plan of proving he wasn't an arrogant dunderhead. "In the stomach of a goat, sir."

"Correct." Snape's expression was now more appraising than hateful. "Ten points to Slytherin," he added with an audible trace of reluctance, then rounded on the Gryffindors. "Weasley! What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Ron didn't know the answer to the question and neither did any of his housemates. Hermione of course had her hand up and was waving it around in the air to catch the Professor's attention. Since she was Slytherin rather than a Gryffindor, Snape actually called on her to answer.

"They're the same plant, also known as Aconite," she said breathlessly.

"Five points to Slytherin." Snape nodded approvingly. "And can anyone tell me the antidote to the common Swelling Solution? Yes, Miss Granger?"

"The Deflating Draught, sir." Hermione sent Draco a victorious look when her answer was once again pronounced correct.

The bushy-haired girl ended up earning Slytherin thirty five points over the course of the two hour lesson, and Snape praised her brewing technique almost as much as he did Draco's. Hermione looked rather put out at being second best, but considering that Draco had several more years of experience as well as Snape's nepotism on his side, Harry thought she was doing extremely well. The other Slytherins in the class were pleased she had gained their House so many points, with Daphne going so far as to give her a genuine smile and Nott sending her a discrete thumbs-up.

Harry was simply glad he'd managed to prevent Neville from blowing up their cauldron and was instead able to brew a passable cure for boils. This feat was much trickier than Harry had expected since Neville's mere presence seemed to make the potion unstable. Harry had always assumed Neville's incompetence in the subject had been due to his fear of Snape, but their Professor had apparently decided to avoid their bench in an effort to ignore Harry, so the timid boy had no reason to feel terrorised by the man. Neville just seemed to somehow exude disruptive magic.

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