Capítulo 68: 68: Potions
Deep within the dungeons, the potions classroom always had a sense of mystery. Students weren't sure why, but it had been like that since they could remember. Perhaps it was due to the professors that used it, or perhaps because of the dark arched walls, the luminosity, the foggy windows, and the mixture of smells from the different concoctions.
Maybe it had been like this since the founders' era — or the centuries of potion brewing could have assimilated within the classroom's walls — but in the end, there was no compassable way of knowing; historians hadn't deemed it relevant enough to document.
This atmosphere that encompassed the room gave a certain comfort to Professor Snape. The bubbling and hissing cauldrons, the cacophony of sounds only he liked, the heavy scent of crushed herbs, powdered roots, and simmering brews... it reminded him of simpler times when he only cared about magic and a girl.
And truth be told, he still did. But he wasn't a boy anymore. Even if he didn't want to, there were more things he had to care about.
But there also were things he despised; Like the insolent boy who resembled his father too much. But it wasn't his fault. No, it was Snape's. He had been the one to lose the girl he loved.
Even the boy's sister didn't get better treatment, no matter how much she resembled her mother; in the end, she had her father's smile. Oh, how much he hated that grin of his.
Professor Snape had been focused on writing down his subject's lesson plans when a soft knock on wood reached his ears. He looked up, right at the door, before speaking.
"Come in," he said in his usual waspish voice, not bothering to look up to see if it was a fellow professor.
But when the door creaked open, and the familiar elegant but powerful steps echoed, he quickly lifted his gaze.
"Headmaster," Snape said, rising from his seat. "What brings you here at this time of the night?"
Dumbledore drew near Snape's table, casting a keen eye around, apparently quite intrigued by the shelves lining the walls, replete with jars containing pickled creatures suspended in a thick, viscous liquid.
"Severus," he greeted, shifting his gaze to the parchments strewn across the desk. "It seems you're still quite busy,"
"I was just about to finish," Snape replied, sinking back into his armchair. Dumbledore followed suit, taking a seat on a small wooden bench typically used by students.
"Then I won't keep you for long," Dumbledore stroked his silvery beard, his expression abruptly turning grave. "I've come to ask for that favour I mentioned last year,"
To any eavesdroppers in the vicinity, the sudden furrow in the potion professor's brow would not go unnoticed.
"What has the boy done?" Snape inquired, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness.
"Nothing... yet," Dumbledore intertwined his hands. "But I'm afraid that if we take too long, something will eventually happen,"
An unnerving silence enveloped the room, shattered only by the relentless scratch of Snape's quill against the parchment. Dumbledore observed him intently as he went about his work, sensing that Snape was on the brink of an answer.
"Why?" Snape asked once he'd concluded his writing, his quill suddenly vanishing. "Why me? Why not you, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore's response held an unmistakable sincerity. "Because I believe you see a reflection of yourself in the boy. Severus, the more we delay our actions, the less time we'll have,"
Snape reclined in his chair, shutting his eyes briefly, his greasy hair shimmering in the dim light.
"He may be your nephew," he remarked, his voice now carrying a distinct sibilance. "But to me, he's just a gifted student who I take pride in saying he belongs to my house. Still, why should I display favouritism?"
Dumbledore, his demeanour firm, countered, "You know this isn't about favouritism, Severus. It's about stopping the repetition of past events. Or shall I remind you of—"
"I understand," Severus interjected through clenched teeth.
Dumbledore's lips curled into a faint smile as he ran a hand through his beard.
"I sincerely hope you do," he sighed. "The boy is unstable. And no matter how much he has in me, I doubt he'd listen to my reasoning. It's only the first day of term, and the portraits are already awash with things to say about him." His voice quivered ever so slightly.
"I shall start as swiftly as I can," Snape hissed, his tone almost dismissive, as if shooing away the headmaster.
Dumbledore walked slowly to the door, and as he twisted the doorknob, he looked back.
"The last thing the wizarding world needs is another brilliant young wizard that dabbled too much in the Dark Arts," He said, staring at Snape. "And I do not wish to put my nephew in Azkaban. Goodnight, Severus,"
The door closed behind him with a small thud, leaving Snape alone amidst the vapours emanating from the cauldrons.
__________
After meeting the Weasley twins, Alaric skipped the Great Hall and grabbed some grub straight from the kitchens. He just wanted to avoid the usual routine for a bit.
Before heading to the Common Room, he stopped by to see Hagrid, who was blubbering away in a drunken state. Alaric felt relieved when Hagrid assured him he hadn't been fired. He tried to convince him he wouldn't get the boot, but the half-giant remained unconvinced.
"I'm sure you won't be fired, Hagrid," Alaric said for the nth time that evening.
"But's only a matter o' time, i' n't it, after Malfoy..." said Hagrid miserably, taking a large gulp of whatever was in the tankard he held in his hand.
"It's not your fault he didn't respect a hippogriff," said Alaric earnestly. "It's his. Malfoy had it coming,"
"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later... done flobberworms or summat... Jus' thought itdmake a good firs' lessons all my fault..."
"Flobberworms? Merlin, Hagrid! I get the hippogriffs might've been too soon, but flobberworms? Half the class would drop the subject!" Alaric exclaimed, snatching the tankard from the half-giant's hand. "I think you've had enough to drink,"
"Maybe you're right..." said Hagrid, scratching his tangled beard. He heaved himself out of his chair, stuck his head on a water barrel to sober up, and followed Alaric who had gone outside to empty the tankard, his long hair and beard sopping wet.
As the liquid flowed into the ground, Alaric had to conjure a peg on his nose due to the smell.
"What's this?" He said, almost gagging. "Goblin's piss?"
"Er— Goblin's Rum," Hagrid said sheepishly, snatching the tankard and emptying the rest himself. He then turned to Alaric. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come and see me, I really appreciate it, but yeh should go back now,"
"I will," said Alaric, cleaning his hand on a cloth. "But cheer up, will ya? Dumbledore will never sack you," When he was about to leave, he suddenly turned around. "Also, you'll see me in your next class. That's enough reason to celebrate, right?"
A hearty laugh erupted from Hagrid, and the two friends bid their farewells. When Alaric returned to the dormitory, the moon was high in the night sky, and Blaise and Theodore were already fast asleep.
Morning arrived, and Alaric woke up at his usual time, feeling well-rested and in higher spirits than the previous day. The sun had just begun its ascent when he dragged his two best friends to join him for a morning run. They grumbled about it, but they all knew that keeping fit was essential if they hoped to make it onto the Quidditch team again this year.
Following a hearty breakfast where they were joined by Tracey and Daphne, they made their way to their first class of the day: Double Potions with Gryffindor.
For the first time since the day before, Alaric laid eyes on Draco. He entered the dungeon a tad late, his right arm wrapped in bandages and supported by a sling, pretending as though he was a heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"Settle down, settle down," Snape said idly, retrieving a scroll from his desk and beginning to call out names.
Their task for the day was to brew a familiar potion, the Shrieking Solution. Alaric couldn't help but remember how he would ask Lysandra for one of these potions whenever he needed to slip out of their castle in Austria. Those were fond memories, but possibly the last he'd have with her.
"Pair up and find a table," the professor urged impatiently.
Alaric, already seated, scanned the room and spotted Daphne, his usual Potions partner, making her way toward him with her books cradled in her arms and a small smile on her lips. However, her expression quickly shifted to one of confusion, and Alaric heard the sound of books hitting the wooden desk.
"Long time no see, Alaric!" His sister's sarcastic voice reached his ears.
He turned around, the use of Occlumency evident by the lack of reaction.
"What are you doing?" He asked, seizing a knife to begin cutting some of the daisy roots for the potion. He cut them into perfect cubes, seized them with one hand, and dropped the cut roots into the cauldron.
"Why are you ignoring me?" she asked, brutally skinning the shrivelfig and adding it to the concoction. At first glance, the shrivelfig seemed badly done, but Lysandra's dexterous hands had skinned it perfectly, even if with a bit of rage mixed in her cuts.
But Alaric didn't answer. He grabbed a leech from a jar and jabbed a syringe into the thing, drawing a dash of juice from it.
"See! Just like you're doing now!" Lysandra said dejectedly. "You haven't talked to me since the carriages!... Did I do something?... Is that why you're mad? Please, Alaric, tell me! How am I supposed to—"
Alaric jolted up and smashed his palms into the desk, silencing the whole class, including the bickering between Malfoy and Ron. Everyone stopped doing whatever they were busy with and stared wide-eyed at him.
Snape, who had been gliding among the desks, inspecting the various concoctions, also turned his attention to Alaric.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Grindelwald?" He asked impassively.
"Nothing, sir," Alaric answered, sitting back quietly into his share.
Only when he was sure that the gazes of the class had lifted from them did he turn to his sister, finger outstretched. His face no longer had traces of the mind arts, his previous blank expression replaced by a deep frown.
"The fact that you have no idea what you did has me bewildered," He said coldly, using a metal spoon to scoop some of the finished concoction into a small glass bottle.
"Al, I'm—"
"Don't 'Al' me!" he hissed, staring pointedly at her. "Why don't you go pester your friends, hmm? Since they seem so intent on catering to every selfish request little Lysandra makes of them,"
Shaking the bottle, the viscous liquid quickly turned into a bright, acid-green potion, hissing and bubbling as Alaric sealed it with a cork. He left his seat and brought the final product to the professor's table.
Snape took the bottle into his hand, removed the cork, and took a quick sniff. He opened the drawer of his desk and brought out a living frog. Without much thought, Snape tipped a small spoon into the potion and trickled a few drops down the frog's throat.
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which the frog gulped; then there was a small pop, and a tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.
"Perfect," He said, scribbling something on a parchment on his desk. "As always. Five points... to both houses," He added with a slight distaste, but it couldn't be helped. The two had a knack for potions, especially the Gryffindor girl.
A small burst of applause came from all the students. Snape, looking sour from giving points to the lions, urged for the twins to leave.
As soon as the door closed behind them and the two found themselves alone in the dungeon corridors, Alaric tried to walk away, but Lysandra grabbed his arm with unusual strength.
"Please, Alaric, talk to—"
Alaric instantly escaped her grip and looked at his twin sister with a scowl.
"Stay away from me," He said through gritted teeth, his steps echoing loudly as he left.
Lysandra just stood there, tears flowing uncontrollably down her face, not knowing what to do.
**********
A/N: Fun Fact! Rowling has said that if she were a teacher at Hogwarts, she would teach Charms, and if she had a job, she would write spell books.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
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