"What about the letter?" Ron urged. "It can't be that bad. Why don't you read it on the way?"
"Later," Harry refused. "Much later."
In fact, if he had his way, he just might never open that letter. Harry's expression brightened at that, even if he was on his way to Potions. Yeah, that was it, he'd just never open the letter. The Dursleys wouldn't have written him anything he wanted to read, so that was that. Of course he might have some explaining to do when summer rolled around, but that was months away, still.
Harry shoved the letter deep in his bag, determined to forget about it.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Two: Commotion in Potions
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 2: Commotion in Potions
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=2
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Two: Commotion in Potions
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Harry sighed and shoved his Transfiguration textbook away with both hands. He could do the spells, sort of, so why did he have to learn so much blasted theory? And what good had theory ever done him, anyway?
Well, his memory chimed in, if you'd have understood that twinned wands cancel each other out, you'd have been better prepared to see your parents flowing out of Voldemort's wand . . .
Harry groaned out loud and flopped his head down onto his arms.
"You read it, huh? Was it so bad, after all?"
Looking up, he saw Ron just stepping through the portrait hole. "Oh no, it's not that." A scowl twisted his lips as he'd thought of how close he'd come to reading the letter. He'd actually opened the stupid envelope before he'd chickened out and shoved the whole thing back into his bag. Now why was it that he could face down Voldemort, but he was afraid of one lousy, measly little letter? Ron was right: the Dursleys couldn't really hurt him, not any more. He wasn't small, and helpless, and friendless, now. But still, that letter in his bag was unnerving him more than anything he thought he'd ever faced.
"It's just the extra reading McGonagall assigned," Harry went back to his previous line of thought. "Honestly, we just need to learn to do the transfigurations, don't you think, not be able to explain every last element of each swish and flick . . ." Harry glanced to the side and barked a pre-emptive, "Don't say it, Hermione!"
She closed her mouth, but her eyes said it for her.
"How about a game of Wizard Chess?" Ron suggested, plunking himself down on the opposite side of the table from Harry. "That'll get your mind off things."
That was just too much for Hermione. "He doesn't need to get his mind off things, Ron!" she sharply rebuked. "He needs to get his mind on them. Or do you think that Potions test is going to just go away? When have you ever known Snape to threaten a test and not give one? Honestly!"
Potions test . . . that was right, Snape had promised one for Friday. Harry had written it down in his notes . . . somewhere. He dug in his bag, upending books and whatnot, and finally found his potions notes . . . yeah, Friday, that was what they said. It had seemed a long ways off, back on Tuesday when he'd written it down. Tuesday, the day he'd got that letter.
No, don't think about the letter, he scolded himself. You're going to forget it ever came, right? In fact, if anybody asks about it, you're going to lie, no matter what the sorting hat has to say about Gryffindor honesty and valour . . . And if they point out that owl mail never goes astray, you'll say . . .
"You all right there, Harry?" Ron prompted, elbows on his knees as he leaned close.
"I was just remembering that I'd forgotten all about the Potions test," Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And here it is Thursday night. Ugh. Maybe I could skive off my morning classes and study. What do you think? Hagrid wouldn't mind. Well, not much."
"You are not skipping classes in order to get study time!" Hermione erupted. "You have to get better organized than this, Harry! Start with that bag of yours. I've never seen a messier assortment of quills and texts and extra sheets of parchment. Honestly, how can you even find anything in there?"
"Has anybody ever mentioned how irritating you can be?" Harry shot back.
Hermione only smiled. "That's why you love me."
"Yeah, guess so," Harry admitted with a sheepish smile of his own. Then he glanced at Ron. "Not like that, mate. You know. Friends."
"Yeah," Ron echoed, glancing between the pair of them. "Well, Wizard Chess is off, then. I suppose we have to cram for Potions." Flipping open a book, he groaned. "Okay, who knows the ten most common uses for dragonfly wings in potions with a base of flobberworm fat?"
"There's seventeen primary uses," Hermione pointed out.
"Snape's not going to ask us for all seventeen!"
"Want to bet?" she challenged.
Harry just sighed, and fished his own Potions text out of his disorganized bag.
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The next afternoon in Potions, as Harry read the first question on the test, he had to repress a strong desire to chuckle.
Describe in detail the seventeen primary uses for dragonfly wings in potions based on flobberworm fat. Give examples of the potions incorporating each use. Explain the primary healing effects of each potion, including the advantages and disadvantages of ingestion versus topical application.
Actually, the question wasn't all that funny. By the time Harry had finished reading it, he was scowling instead of smiling. Who was Snape kidding? Nobody could answer this, although no doubt Hermione would give it a stab. Oh yeah, and that twit Malfoy. At least Hermione honestly didn't know when she was showing off. She was just enthusiastic about learning, and it sort of bubbled out the top of her head and spilled all over the place. She honestly didn't understand that when it came to some subjects, her enthusiasm wasn't catching.
"Is there a problem, Mr Potter? Is there a reason you've yet to so much as touch quill to parchment?"
The ominous voice boomed from the front of the classroom, startling him so much that he almost upset his ink pot. He righted it with one hand while the other one clutched his quill so hard it threatened to snap.
"Is the content of my lectures too much for your hero's brain to absorb? Perhaps we need to send you back to Remedial Potions again, this year?"
The reference to Remedial Potions made Harry see red, but it also reminded him that what he should do to keep from getting so angry was to Occlude his mind as Snape had taught him. Trouble was, the Potions Master never had really taught him. He'd just yelled at him and demanded he do it, without once so much as explaining what it was he was supposed to do, never mind how. Occluding his mind wasn't much of a choice, in the circumstances, and realizing that fact just made Harry even madder.
Clenching his eyes shut to keep from glaring at the insufferable git, he spoke through gritting teeth. No choice, if he properly opened his mouth, he'd say what he really felt like saying, and if he did that, he'd be every bit as stupid as Snape liked to claim. He'd learned his lesson from Umbridge. With teachers who hated the very air you breathed, you limited your comments to what was strictly necessary.