THIRD YEAR FEELS LIKE THE WORST YEAR FOR HARRY POTTER. He had accidentally cursed Marge Dursley, ran away from his aunt's house, then found out that he was being targeted by Sirius Black the escaped prisoner of Azkaban, then there's Dementor who almost killed him, don't forget about Professor Trelawney's inner eye, saying something about the grim or whatever, and finally... the last one was, team up with Seamus. Ok, don't tell him this, or he will explode. But Seamus had terrible ―almost cursed― luck with potions. And Professor Snape purposefully teamed him up with Harry. Despite the fact that he knew Harry was just as bad in Potions class.
Harry was well aware of Professor Snape's dislike for him.
He snorted in annoyance while stirring the cauldron, making the best poker face he could to hide his suffering; he didn't want Seamus to be offended or Snape to be happy seeing him suffer.
"Uh, Harry?"
"What?" Harry glanced at Seamus who was pointing at the cauldron.
"Is it supposed to be pink?"
Startled, Harry lowered his gaze to the cauldron he was stirring. It was pink, as Seamus said. It should be dark purple. "What should we do?"
"Shall we put this in?" Seamus took the black root of a plant whose name he didn't know. "It's black. If we put it in, won't it turn purple?"
Harry didn't understand the correlation. But the root Seamus took was from their table, where they had gathered all of the ingredients they were going to use. So it can't possibly fail, can it?
He nodded, his gaze drawn to Seamus' hands as he dipped the root into the pink liquid. They both waited for the root to dissolve while Harry gently stirred it. The color gradually changed to light purple, and the two exchanged big smiles.
"We did―"
Harry's words were cut off as their potions made a soft splashing sound. Even their potion is already bubbling like lava before a mountain eruption.
Ah, he should have known he couldn't be so positive for a second.
Harry quickly put out the flame, looking resignedly at the potion that was still fizzing lethally. It emitted spark after spark. It also started to release some dim smoke.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Finnigan! You again! I know that―"
See, he got scolded by Professor Snape again. He would undoubtedly deduct Gryffindor's points by as much as usual. Harry had grown tired of hearing it again and time again.
"Put in the cocoon with the lizard's blood," the whisper crossed Harry's ear softly which he was certain that only he could hear. Harry didn't have time to say thank you before his hands immediately poured the contents into the pot.
One second, two seconds, Harry's heart felt like it was going to fall out. He was exhaling loudly and heavily. They held their breath as they observed the deadly potion settle down and change into the desired dark purple.
"Hah..." Harry let out the breath he was holding. He lifted his face towards Professor Snape and grinned a little, seeing the latter's expression of apparent speechlessness before resuming his usual serious expression.
The professor then turned around while murmuring something he doesn't bother to know.
Now...
Harry returned his gaze. He couldn't place the voice from the earlier whisper. He couldn't even make out their faces. But Harry only caught a glimpse of silver hair.
Oh, he definitely knows who that is.
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