The class had gone silent. Harry had just crossed a line, and everyone could sense it. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who were used to talking to one another with monosyllabic grunts and eyebrow contortions understood what had just happened.
In the Headmaster's office, a paperweight that also doubled as a tension meter that was specifically localized around his potion master, went off with a loud blurble-blurble-blurble, and normally Headmaster Dumbledore would have raced to that part of the castle to keep his Death-Eater spy from severing the life of a student (that would certainly entail a lot of needless paperwork for both parties involved anyway)… but, alas, he was off using the potty so didn't hear any blurbling from his glowing blue paperweight that had, ironically enough, been a gift from one of his favorite students, that prankster in charge, James Potter.
Hermione's emotions jockeyed with one another for position in her head. She was angry at Harry, elated that someone had stood up to that horrid professor and his demeaning ways of attacking that poor Neville, sorry that Neville didn't get more of a tongue lashing, upset that someone had demeaned a professor, confused by a few of the implications, and royally ticked at herself for not writing any of Harry's answers down.
Draco Malfoy had been prepped most of his life to take over the family business of intimidating people. He grew up in a household that could look up the word Love in a dictionary and tell you what it meant, but they were helpless in showing any sort of meaning of the word. Due to that, any true affection he felt was hoarded jealously. His godfather had once given him a potions set with the instructions to not blow up the house. Perhaps he'd read more into the wink the man had given him at the same time, but he always thought he understood people enough to know that the wink signified acceptance. And now here was this other kid his own age basically telling off the man who had accepted him a couple years ago. That just wouldn't do.
Professor Snape in all of this looked upon the son of his arch-nemesis in a cold fury. Oh, how he wanted to wring that Potter neck. To kick that Potter in the ribs a few times, to cast a few Crucios. Instead, he slowly began to calm down while at the same time saying, "And what would you know about potion making, Potter? Ingrates like yourself more than likely follow in the father's footsteps and as I know him, he was absolutely rubbish at potions. He barely escaped with a T in his OWL year."
"Oh, I know all about potion making, professor," Harry said back in his happy voice (which had the benefit of really sticking it to the "man" - which considering, the "man" in this case, was one Severus Snape). "It's not hard at all. It's a lot like cooking. Well, not like the House Elves here, but like I do at home. Why, I remember just this summer reading the first year book and getting a laugh out of this. I mean, some of the steps must have been written down, what, about a thousand years ago and no one has ever tried to update or modernize it? I mean, come on. There have been advances made, haven't there? Or what, is the title of a potions master just someone who remembers a cookbook verbatim? You do research sometime don't you? After all…"
"SILENCE!" Professor Snape snapped. "You will not talk unless I specifically allow it! Is that understood, Potter?"
Harry didn't say anything and Professor Snape's ire only grew. The boy simply looked at him a smirk and then he had the gall to wink at him.
Draco Malfoy saw the wink but didn't understand its implications this go around. Had Potter just accepted his godfather into something? He needed more information that was for sure.
"I mean it, Potter! Not one word!"
Wink.
"Stop that!"
Wink, wink.
His ire clearly on the rise again, Professor Snape looked at the rest of the class and began the day's lesson of brewing… "What is it, Potter?" he asked the brat with the hand raised.
"By Hogwarts rule, article 4, section 2, paragraph 1, it says students who gives a Professor the correct answer are to be given points when said Professor asks the student a question. You are breaking that rule, Professor. Do I not get points for my House for answering your advance questions ?" Harry asked in a professional tone while giving him a cool look.
Almost imperceptibly, a twitch spasmed once under the potion master's left eye. A minute went by as the man's breathing was brought under control and his wrath calmed to a simmering rage. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He looked like he was fighting a mental battle in what to do. Finally… he spoke.
"Ten Points to Gryffindor. Now why aren't you all writing this down?!" Snape spat out and then turned around to sulk so they couldn't see.
"Thanks, pops!"
"That's professor to you, ingrate," Professor Snape sneered with a patented sneer.
"Whatever you say, Professor Pops. But are we going to learn anything today because if not, I have other things I can be doing. Not that I'm trying to get out of class, after all like I said before, I like cooking. And today's recipe I can see you have written on the board under the concealment glamour looks like it might take a person… what? About 20 minutes to cook up? Hey, that's great, 'cause it'll give me plenty of time to cook something else up. Something challenging."
"SILENCE! What did I say about staying quiet in class?!"
"What? You were serious about that? I mean, seriously, make up your mind. Say, you don't look so good. Do you want me to cover your class? I mean, it's just cooking. And I did take Home Economics last year, so I know my way around a kitchen."
"Potions laboratory," the older man grunted out.
"Feh, I'll call it what I want."
That's it! That was the LAST BLOODY STRAW! "You want to teach them, Potter?! Fine! Go ahead. Here's today's lesson the board. Potter is your instructor. Everyone will turn in a complete potion by the end of class. If any of them fail to measure up, then the entire class fails the assignment for the day. Enjoy your fame, Potter."
Professor Snape then strode into his office and slammed the door closed. Walking behind the desk, he sat heavily and then opened a drawer to pull out a bottle of Fire whiskey.
Just shy of an hour later (and three calming shots down), Snape barreled his way back into class to see how that whelp had done instructing his (HIS!) students in the fine art of potion making.
The first thing he noticed was that there was a distinct lack of exploded cauldrons that usually followed the first year of potion students. Everyone was concentrating over simmering cauldrons and surprising enough, they were all stirring counterclockwise at the same time.
That arrogant snot, Potter, was walking between rows and making sure to correct a few elbows and stir positions, insinuating they actually meant something. Actually, he knew they did, but that was something he'd bring to their attention in the next lesson when he went over their potions. He noticed that brat actually help show another student the proper way of slicing, dicing, and in lastly, how to properly crush an ingredient.
"Potter! Where's your potion? I'll grade that first," the man practically seethed, his face going flush.
"Sure thing, Professor Pops. Hermione and I finished it about 10 minutes ago. It's on your desk. Properly labeled I might add even though you didn't mention anything about that. Don't worry, I made sure to let everyone know how to go about doing it so they won't be mixed up. Wouldn't want that to happen, but it probably won't be an issue since all the potions are being brewed correctly. Even Vincent's and Gregory's potions are within acceptable limits."
"All thanks to you, Harry," Parvati smiled at him.
"No, it was all thanks to everyone in this room's efforts, Parvati."
"Harry, you're just too nice; this class was easy just like you said," Lavender said, bottling up hers and Parvati's potion.
"With exceptional students like everyone here, you can all make a teacher, even a teacher's aide like myself, look good. I want you to know I'm proud of you all. Even you, Longbottom. This was a great class and all of you brewed your first potion ever. And the skills you learned today will help you in next class."
"Potter! Quit trying to teach my class!"
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