Bound by Soul

Potions, and Tea

Arthur Faulkins, the Slytherin Prefect, led the first years to breakfast the next morning, making it clear from the start that he would only do so once. Amy Dolcite, the other Prefect, told them that she would lead them to their classes the first time, after that they were on their own.

On top of having to remember his way around the giant castle, Harry was getting stared at, whispers following him through the halls.

"Is that him?"

"The one with the glasses?"

"Next to the blond."

"Why's he in Slytherin though?"

"I heard his parents were in Gryffindor."

Harry tried to ignore them. Especially the ones that thought he was the next dark lord. He hadn't even been there a day, and already people were talking about him, barely bothering to keep their voices down.

The first week wasn't horrible. Harry had all sorts of interesting classes that he attended with his housemates. Their first Herbology lesson was shared with the Ravenclaws, as was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Transfiguration and History of Magic was with the Hufflepuffs. On Wednesday evening, all the first years had Astronomy, and Harry was happy to find most of his classmates to be very amicable and friendly, even if the Hufflepuffs were a little wary, and the Griffindors were mostly cold.

The classes themselves were all interesting, and soon, Friday had come, bringing with it Harry's first Potions class, which the Slytherins shared with Gryffindor.

As with their other classes, Amy Dolcite lead them into the dungeons, and showed them to their classroom.

It was chilly, and the various jars of animal parts were very disconcerting.

The class had all settled into their seats, when Snape swept into the room, his cloak billowing behind him impressively. As tiny Charms Professor Flitwick had, Snape took roll, pausing very slightly at Harry's name, though he didn't say anything.

Snape captured their attention as easily as Professor Mcgonagall had, the entire class listening intently.

"In this class, you will learn the exact art, and subtle science of potion-making. There is no foolish wand-waving, nor ridiculous incantations in this class."

He turned to stare them all down.

"As such, many of you may not believe it is magic. I highly doubt that any of you will understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, nor the power of the liquids it holds. With a proper potion, a wizard is able to ensnare the senses, and muddle the mind. I can teach you to brew poisons, bottle fixations, and even craft death. That is, if you have the capacity to learn such an advanced subject."

There was a solid silence. Harry was beginning to worry.

Was Potions really that hard of a subject?

Snape rounded on him without warning.

"Potter. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry froze. He could remember those ingredients from the school books he'd read during the last month of summer, but he could not recall the name of the potion it made. One of the Gryffindors had her hand up in the air, clearly knowing the answer.

"A sleeping draught, sir?" Harry half asked, feeling very put on the spot, but knowing it would not be wise to ignore his head of house.

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously.