The Draught of Peace
Ravenclaw's first class on their return to Hogwarts was none other than Potions, taught by the charismatic Professor Snape, who, as always, entered the classroom with a gloomy air, almost as though he despised everything.
Or rather, he genuinely seemed to despise the new Potions classroom. Unlike before, when it had been a dark and gloomy dungeon, it now had slightly gleaming white walls—perhaps a little too bright. It was as though Headmaster Black had gone out of his way to make the room unbearably cheerful, to the point where not even a bat would feel like living there.
And knowing him, that had probably been exactly the point.
Dressed in his black robes and looking like an enormous bat, Snape stood out completely against his new classroom, and the blatant look of hatred on his face wasn't hidden in the slightest.
"Silence," Snape ordered sharply as he closed the door behind him.
But there was no real need to restore order. The moment the students saw the professor's expression, they all fell silent and still. Normally, his mere presence was enough to quiet an entire classroom, but now that aura seemed a hundred times stronger, especially since Sirius Black had become Headmaster.
"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape began, looking over all the students present, today's class being Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, "I believe it is appropriate to inform you that next June you will sit an important examination, during which you will demonstrate everything you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Since some students in this class are nothing more than a waste of oxygen, I expect you to achieve at least an Acceptable in your O.W.L., unless you wish to... disappoint me," the professor said threateningly as his gaze swept over several students, though it lingered mostly on Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley. But when his eyes landed on Harry, he immediately looked away again, just as he had every time since that last incident, a fleeting expression of guilt crossing his face.
"After this year, many of you will no longer study under me, and I shall prepare only the finest students for N.E.W.T.-level Potions. It will be gratifying to be rid of some of you," Snape continued. "But for now, we still have a year ahead of us. For that reason, whether you intend to sit the N.E.W.T.s or not, I expect every one of you to maintain the standard I demand from my fifth-years. Today we will prepare one of the potions that appears in the O.W.L. examinations: the Draught of Peace, a potion used to calm nerves and anxiety. But I warn you, if you mishandle the ingredients, you may induce a deep sleep in the drinker, one that could very well be irreversible. And above all, consuming it in large quantities may produce an effect similar to drunkenness."
Hearing that, Hermione and Daphne both wore thoughtful expressions, as though trying to remember where they had heard something like that before.
And they weren't the only ones.
Harry wore the same expression as a faint memory surfaced in his mind.
A rather amusing one.
"The ingredients and method are on the board," Snape finished, flicking his wand. Instantly, everything he had just mentioned appeared written where he had pointed. At the same time, he gestured toward a rather eye-catching glass-fronted cabinet in one corner of the room, one that looked more like something from a shop than a classroom, causing Snape's expression to darken with annoyance once again. "You may collect the ingredients yourselves," he added. "You have one hour."
Over the next several minutes, the classroom filled only with the sounds of knives chopping roots, spoons stirring cauldrons, and the constant bubbling of potions.
Every now and then, Snape prowled between the tables like a bird of prey, correcting someone's posture, removing an incorrectly added ingredient, or casting a glance powerful enough to make more than one student tremble.
And so the lesson progressed as usual.
At least for Harry and his group, brewing the potion proved quite easy.
Snape barely glanced at the four completed vials.
He didn't even bother uncorking them.
With a simple wave of his hand, he indicated that they were free to leave.
He even allowed each of them to keep one vial as a sample.
Though perhaps they were the only ones with that particular privilege.
As always, Harry didn't say another word to the professor before leaving.
As they walked through the corridors, Daphne, still holding her vial of potion, couldn't help asking,
"So... are you still mad at Professor Snape? You're not going to try to kill him again, are you?" she asked Harry.
Though, to be honest, it seemed she asked him that fairly often after Potions class, perhaps checking whether there had been any change of plans or something.
"No," Harry answered in a somewhat flat tone, letting out the weary sigh of someone tired of giving the same answer every time.
"Mmm. Well, let me know if you change your mind," Daphne added casually, though knowing her, she was once again just hoping to see some drama unfold.
Making Hermione simply roll her eyes.
But as she did, her gaze landed on a figure walking toward the Potions classroom.
"Good morning, Professor Carrigan," Hermione greeted first, making her friends notice the man approaching them, and they greeted him politely as well.
"Oh, hello there," the man replied with a warm, remarkably bright smile that contrasted oddly with his striking white robes. It was a miracle Harry and the others hadn't noticed he was nearby until he was literally standing in front of them, considering how conspicuous he looked dressed like that.
He had the kind of face that immediately put people at ease. Not especially handsome, but pleasant enough that you felt you could get along with him after only one conversation.
"Excuse me, but... weren't you supposed to be in Professor Snape's class, learning and all that?" Hermione couldn't help asking, looking rather confused.
Carrigan's friendly smile froze for a moment.
"Wait... what?" he said, hurriedly pulling a golden pocket watch from his robes and checking the time carefully. "Oh, bloody hell! Professor Snape's going to tell me off again!" the trainee professor blurted out before taking off at full speed without even saying goodbye, running straight back in the direction Harry and the others had just come from.
Leaving all four of them staring after him in complete disbelief.
"And he's supposed to be helping Snape with Potions?" Daphne couldn't help asking as she watched his retreating back sprinting away with all his might.
"Yes. He's Matthew Carrigan, Professor Snape's assistant. Ryan Foster will be assisting Professor Sprout, Christopher Miller is Professor McGonagall's assistant, and Alice Morgan is Professor Flitwick's assistant," Hermione explained, having obviously already memorised the names of all the new trainee teachers.
Earning herself identical looks from her friends.
"What?" she asked when she noticed them. "I'm a prefect. Obviously I have to remember every professor's name," she replied at once.
"Do you know them?" Daphne asked Draco, who had remained silent the entire time.
"No," Draco answered calmly. "But I don't need to. Hermione's always by my side," he said with a smile, looking at Hermione. "Isn't that right?"
The moment Hermione heard those words, she opened and closed her mouth for a second, as though she didn't know how to respond.
"Ah, well... yes. I... um... well, we're both prefects, so obviously we'll be spending a lot of time together. So if you need to know anything, you can just ask me," she said, stumbling over her words more than once. "But you don't have to say it like that. People could misunderstand," she quickly added, embarrassed.
"How?" Draco asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"You..."
Hermione got stuck, simply staring at him.
"Never mind," she muttered before turning around and continuing towards the Great Hall.
"How?" Draco asked again as he followed after her, as though he genuinely wanted to know.
"I said never mind. Just hurry up. We have to find the twins and tell them to stop putting those ridiculous notices up everywhere," Hermione replied, urging him to walk faster.
Meanwhile, Daphne and Harry looked back and forth between the two of them before glancing at each other.
"So... you're going back to the library again? I'm going to see who I can give this to and find out if they get drunk," Daphne said, holding up the Draught of Peace with a wicked grin.
"Yeah," Harry replied calmly. "Though you might have someone during today's Flying lesson to give it to, since Flying was moved to the first day this year," Harry said with an amused smile.
"What? Why would I give it to him? If he's nervous about being a teacher, he shouldn't have accepted the job," Daphne replied before Harry could finish, pulling an annoyed face.
"Well... I was talking about the students. Not many people are comfortable with heights. I never mentioned any professor," he said, his grin becoming even more amused and teasing.
Daphne's expression immediately seemed to short-circuit, her face visibly reddening before she shot Harry an irritated glare.
"You'd better disappear before I tell your little girlfriend you've got a secret harem, you damned playboy," she threatened.
Harry's smile faltered a little as he immediately replied,
"She's not my girlfriend, and..."
He stopped the moment he saw Daphne's threatening expression.
"Bye," he said, turning around. He knew perfectly well she was capable of doing it.
Daphne remained standing there with an irritated expression just from thinking about Harry's words... and her own. She looked down at the Draught of Peace in her hand and tapped one foot against the floor several times, as though thinking something over. Then she looked toward a nearby window, at the bright, beautiful sky outside.
"Hmph," she huffed, before changing direction, perhaps toward the castle's inner courtyard, where the first Flying lesson of the new school year was just about to begin.