A Snake's Crutch Book 1

Part 7: A Magical Cure

"Thank you, Professor!" y/n said happily, even knowing it wasn't definitive. After Snape dismissed her to her seat, y/n went back to talk to her friends, but a hush had fallen over them and the rest of the class, as they stared at the door, whispering about the famous Harry Potter, who had just come in with an entourage.

When Neville and Hermione entered the classroom ahead of Potter, y/n waved, but only Neville saw as Hermione was intent on sitting as close to the front as she could, sitting second in on the right of the front row between the other girls. Behind her were Potter, Weasley, Neville, and a boy y/n hadn't met before, who all claimed the second row. Last to clamber in was a Gryffindor boy, forced to take the last stool in the front row. 

Professor Snape, angrily watching the late Gryffindor take his seat, started the class with a roll call, pausing on Harry Potter's name.

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."  As y/n watched, she saw all the subtle kindness she had seen a few minutes ago vanish from Professor Snape's eyes, instead replaced by molten black hatred. 

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all laughed behind their hands not trying very hard at all to be discreet. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Professor Snape started, the entire class silent, as it had been in McGonagall's classroom, without anyone telling them to do so. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." 

With each word, Hermione drew closer to the edge of her seat, looking desperate to prove herself, until y/n was sure she was going to fall off, which of course, she never did. 

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly, making y/n jump. "What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Potter looked at Weasley, sitting next to him, confused, but getting nothing out of him, and Hermione's hand shot into the air. Y/N sighed, knowing perfectly well, as did the rest of the Slytherins, that Professor Snape would not call on her. 

"I don't know, sir," said Potter, though Snape clearly already knew he didn't.

Snape sneered. "Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched even higher, almost leaving her seat. Clearly, Potter hadn't studied before start of term, for he seemed just a puzzled as before. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were all having a laugh, watching Harry stumble, very obviously still holding a grudge after what happened on the train. Y/N frowned at them disapprovingly, but they either didn't notice, or didn't care, and kept right on making fun of poor Harry Potter. 

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Though y/n had wondered the same, she still felt taken aback by Professor Snape's harshness. Did he really expect Potter to remember everything he read? "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione stood up this time, trying to make her hand seen. Then, Potter made a grave mistake. 

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Others around the room laughed, but not y/n. She knew Potter was going to face Snape's wrath quite possibly for the rest of the school year for that.

"Sit down," Professor Snape spat at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezaor is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you'll all copying that down?" 

Suddenly there was the sound of rummaging through bags as most the students hurried to grab a quill and parchment. Most because y/n and Hermione had already both memorized those facts, and already had them scrawled down in front of them and, though Snape did not acknowledge Hermione, he gave y/n the slightest nod of approval.

"And," the professor continued over the ruffling of parchment. "A point from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

After Potter's outburst, the professor instructed the students to make a simple cure for boils. Snape only grew more strict as the class passed, insulting almost everyone in class, including Slytherins, for their incompetence. Most excluding very few other Slytherins, y/n, who got a few barely noticeable smiles while working with Sarah, and Draco, who seemed to be getting a lot of compliments and "watch how Malfoy"'s, which y/n could tell made Draco very happy, while, quite contrarily, making Potter incredibly angry. Y/N suspected that was precisely why Professor Snape was doing it. 

After a little while of silent potion making, there was a loud hissing noise as a cloud of green smoke filled the classroom. Neville's partner's cauldron was melting into a large blob, their potion seeping everywhere, burning a hole in many peoples' shoes, including Sarah's before she yelped and stood on her chair. Everyone else followed suit, all except Neville, who was covered in the potion, moaning in pain as boils began to cover his skin. Whatever the boys had done seemed to have reversed the effects of the potion they were trying to create.

"Idiot boy!" Professor Snape spat, wiping away the spilled potion with his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills  before taking the cauldron off the fire?" The question was met with more moaning as boils began to sprout up all over Neville's nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," the professor spat in Neville's partner's direction, then rounded on Potter and Weasley at the station to his left. 

"You -- Potter -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." Y/N didn't understand the animosity coming from Snape. This was a side of her, thus far, favorite professor she would have preferred not to have witnessed.

As Snape move back to his desk, Potter opened his mouth to argue, but Weasley kicked him, muttering something she couldn't hear that made Potter shut his mouth again.

After another hour of quiet potion making, y/n and Sarah had finished their cure for boils and had moved on to swelling solution by the time class ended. Snape emptied everyone's cauldrons with a flourish of his wand and dismissed the class.

After class, the whole school had the afternoon off, and y/n and her friends decided down to the black lake, either to skip stones, try and catch a Grindylow, or watch the giant squid splash in the water. 

Half way through their intermission, a Slytherin prefect came down to meet them. "Professor Dumbledore wishes for me to take you to him," he said looking to y/n. "Immediately."