Chapter 9
It took Harry the entire walk from the Tower after he and Neville grabbed their things for that first day of classes for the implication that he was about to walk into a Double Potions period that Potions Master Snape was his uncle. His maternal uncle. The most hated professor in the entire school was his mother's brother. His steps slowed the closer he and Neville got to the dungeon classroom.
“I don't want to go either, Harry.” Neville gave him a sympathetic glance. “I'm just glad that after fifth year I'll be done.”
Harry looked at his friend. “Fifth year?”
“Yeah, no way I'll get anything higher than an Acceptable on my OWL. And that's if I'm lucky enough to get an easy examiner. Snape only takes NEWT students who get Os. Something to look forward to anyway.”
“Yeah…something to look forward to.” Harry agreed. But he'd gotten so much better over the summer. Miss Ana made sure that he finally understood the basics that everyone else just seemed to know. And the supplemental books she’d found for him helped too to explain the processes and how the ingredients actually worked. It all made much more sense after his three weeks tutoring with her. Did he want to be done with Potions after fifth year? he'd always actually enjoyed it, apart from the swooping bat of a professor and the classmates throwing things in to sabotage each other. Idiots.
Even with Harry's internal crisis induced snail pace, he and Neville made it to the Potions classroom before the rest of Gryffindor. The door was open, and they trickled in with the queue of Slytherins. Harry tugged Neville toward the front station. “I want to actually be able to see the board this year.” Harry muttered when Neville balked at his seating choice.
“Right. Okay…deep breaths Nev, deep breaths.” Neville gulped as he followed Harry up to the two person brewing station in the front row.
Snape raised a dark eyebrow at the two boys but turned back to the papers on his desk. What was with professors and eyebrows? Harry thought. Must be a hiring requirement at this point to be able to have an entire conversation with just an eyebrow raise for Hogwarts' professors.
The rest of Gryffindor third year trickled in, with Ron sliding into the desk at the back row alone huffing and red faced just as the bell rang.
“5 points, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, for being tardy.” Snape intoned flatly.
Harry turned and, sure enough, Hermione was now sitting next to Ron in the back row, both of them hurriedly pulling out their quills and parchment. Odd, she hadn't been there when the bell rang. Mentally shrugging it off, Harry turned back to the front as Snape rose from his desk to tap the empty blackboard.
“This morning will be a review to see if you retained anything from previous years over the summer holiday. You have two hours to complete both the written and practical review exams. You are to work independently. You may not use your books or previous notes. The potion to complete by the end of time is written on the board. You may begin on it once you have handed in the written exam. If you are unable to finish, you will make it up this Saturday in detention. You may begin.” With a wave of his hand, stacks of parchment floated from his desk to settle in front of each student.
With a silent thank you to Miss Ana, Harry got to work. The written exam was a breeze after the hours he put in this past summer, turning his parchment in before the 45 minute mark on Snape's timer.
Pulling out a blank sheet of parchment from his bag, Harry copied down the ingredients and instructions for Wiggenweld Potion from the board and got started brewing. The rest of class passed in a pleasant blur, apart from Neville somehow managing to curdle his potion even without the usual outside interference.
Harry was rather proud of his potion at the end of class. It perfectly matched the one he had brewed with Miss Ana and what he remembered of the description in the textbook.
Unfortunately, Neville’s was a lost cause. Harry made a note to see if there was something else going on with his friend because there wasn't any real reason for the potion to have gone so badly.
The rest of the day passed similarly in tests and syllabus revision. Hermione disappeared for a bit in the afternoon after lunch after announcing her very busy schedule included Muggle Studies and Ron joined Harry and Neville for a few rounds of Exploding Snap before they all made their way out to Greenhouse 3 for Herbology.
The first day of classes finished in a frenzy of dinner and laughing by the common room fireplace, Ron complaining loudly about having to meet with McGonagall to discuss his “personal responsibilities.” Harry was glad he was firmly tucked into the corner of the couch beside Neville as Ron's grumbling continued. The only hiccup was when Harry tried to quietly ask Neville if he wanted to study together, trading Potions and Defense help for Herbology.
Hermione had perked up out of her book at the question with a snort. “Potions Harry? Really? You barely passed second year.”
In the embarrassed silence that followed, Neville quietly stuttered “You mean it? I saw your potion for the review this morning. It was near perfect. Yeah. I'd like that. Thanks, Harry.”
With a huff, Hermione declared it was late and she was “off to bed. You should be too.” With that, the rest of the third years checked the time and slowly trickled up into the dorms.
***
Down in the cool green light of the dungeons, Graham Montague sat separated from the rest of the students in the Slytherin common room. The first years had been safely tucked into their dorms for the evening. Graham was exhausted, whoever decided that being a Prefect was an honor was clearly delusional. After a night settling homesick firsties and a long day of revision and lectures about the importance of their OWL year, he wanted nothing more than to fall face first into his bed and sleep. Unfortunately, that was not to be for several more hours. As the curfew bell rang signaling lights out for the youngest students, Professor Snape entered the room and took his usual seat in the black wingback chair in the corner.
“Proceed then.”
At the monotone command, the hierarchy of Slytherin began the annual shift. The political maneuvers for influence were sorted among the different years and the vacancies left the previous spring among Slytherin Court were fought for.
Sucked in out of tradition and necessity, Graham answered challenge after challenge, blocking out his exhaustion. Being a Prefect and on the Slytherin Quidditch team only got him so far in the House Hierarchy. His family's lack of a Noble title within the Wixen World was a handicap for all that his family had been pureblood for centuries.
Graham's attention was caught as he rested beside Marcus Flint with the rest of the Quidditch team close to the heart of the Slytherin Court by the Malfoy Heir peacocking around with the other third years, puffing himself up among his peers and the second years. He shuddered at the thought of the Self important Malfoy Heir in charge of the Slytherin Court. Merlin help them all ! Hopefully some of the other third years will rise to the occasion and put the blond ponce in his place before then. Perhaps the Nott Heir. Graham could only hope.
It was nearing midnight When Snape rose from his silent vigil in the corner. The signal that the first meeting of the year was over. Finally! thought Graham. Even his bones were tired after all the posturing and sparring to secure his position. Tomorrow was too soon and he wasn't looking forward to another day like today on even less sleep. And this was just the first meeting. His place wasn't secure, next month would bring more of the same as everyone settled into their roles in the House and the House dynamics changed. Everyone thought him beneath them, magically weak, all brawn and no brain. His grades were his business and his appointment as prefect not a fluke or favoritism. He’d worked hard for both of them. But these Heirs to Ancient and Noble houses thought he was above his station and vied to put him in his "proper place" at every meeting since that first one in his second year.
Gathering his things, Graham made his way down from the common room to his dorm. Blessed be Mother Magic, maybe tonight he'd actually get some sleep.