Sincerely: The Servant who Cared

2. Accio

Harry forgot.

Harry forgot.

An essay about antidotes completely slipped out of his preoccupied mind, which, given the circumstances, was not Harry's fault at all. His priority list was topped with learning a summoning charm, dealing with the consequence of that foul article in Daily Prophet (he should have known that Rita Skeeter would add the part about Harry's glistening eyes), and Sirius' letter of disappointed and worrisome nature regarding Harry being a champion.

It was Thursday morning when Harry got a gut-wrenching feeling that he had forgotten something. He checked all the points on his mental to-do list during his lunch break, adamant (and anxious) to find out what had escaped his mind. 

Fire-call with Sirius – check
Practice 'Accio' with Hermione – check
Tell Cedric about the dragon task – check
Avoid Snape as much as possible – che- 

Avoid Snape as much as possible?????

Harry's brows furrowed at the thought. He'd been evading the man since their first encounter for years – it was a subconscious act at this point, so why was it so important all of a sudden?

Lifting his eyes from the mashed potatoes in front of him, Harry's eyes reluctantly glanced at the spot belonging to the Potions Master. To Harry's dismay, his gaze met with Snape's.

In an instant, Harry looked away, swallowing dryly. He now remembered what he'd forgotten.

All feelings of hunger vanished in an instant and Harry found himself wandering outside of the Great Hall. Hermione yelled something after him but he seldom heard her.

"I'm not going to potions today," he said in one breath when she caught up with him.

"What happened now?" she asked, suppressing an eye roll. They had this conversation every time Snape's classes approached and Hermione was becoming tired of it.

"I forgot about the homework Snape assigned to me. The deadline was yesterday," Harry explained quickly, hoping that the urgency in his voice conveyed how catastrophic the situation was.

"It wouldn't be the first case you didn't hand in your essay in time," she brushed off the whole issue as if it was a daily occurrence. Harry groaned in frustration.  

"He'll chew me up again! I really don't want to subject myself to Snape's remarks today," he breathed out pathetically, letting the exhaustion creep to his face. Harry hadn't been sleeping well since the dream about Voldemort killing a muggle. And even though playing the pity card on Hermione was below the belt, he was desperate.

"Harry, you're going to face a dragon soon, Snape is nothing compared to that."

"I'd rather fight three dragons than have a potions class," he lied.

"Look at it from the bright side, at least Snape's not gonna breathe fire at the sight of you," Hermione continued her persuasion, unbothered by Harry's objections. She'd grown immune to his tantrums a long time ago. 

Harry begged to differ, fire-breathing Snape was a sight he could vividly imagine occurring in real life.

Dragged by his arm by Hermione, Harry once again didn't escape the absolute hell of double-period potions with Slytherins. He imagined the dragon frying him alive and it still seemed less of a pain than the two hours that just followed.

***

"I see that Mr. Potter has decided to grace us with his mighty presence today," Snape sneered gleefully. "What do we owe this pleasure to?"