A bell was ringing. The sound was persistent, rhythmic, annoying. Harry awoke confused and scared. Where was he? What was he doing here? Why was there a cat on his chest, purring? It took a full minute for his memory to kick in. He remembered now. Of course. He was Snape. A sharp tingle shot through his spine at this realisation and he got up slowly, pushing Fidens out of the way, and walked directly into the bathroom. He saw this two ways. He could either go to classes for the rest of the three months unbathed (as sometimes seemed to happen anyway) or he could brave constant embarrassment and wash.
He put a towel over the mirror, got undressed with his eyes squeezed shut, tried not to touch his body too much, jumped under the shower, grovelled for the taps, basked in the steady stream of water and then felt about for some shampoo. After ten minutes and being forced to open his eyes, he found the shampoo container, an ornate crystal bottle with a Slytherin snake around the stopper. He closed his eyes again as he poured some of the shampoo onto his hands and then started to massage it into his long black hair, starting at the roots. It smelt like citrus, so fresh and aromatic.
He stepped out of the shower, made sure his towel was doubled over (which provided a nice cushion), and started drying himself. He put the towel around himself, carefully, securing it under his armpits. He then got another big black fluffy towel and wrapped it around his hair like a turban. He went back into his room and surveyed the cupboard. He chose his clothes quickly, got dressed, and started to dry his hair. Suddenly he remembered an easy spell to use and before he knew it the towel was drying his hair by itself and he could concentrate on putting his shoes on.
After his hair had been dried and brushed he looked about for the list that Dumbledore had said Snape had left him. His tasks for each and every day. As he did so he caught a sight of himself in the mirror and was astounded to see his black locks flowing neatly. His hair looked good. He grinned. The shampoo had just been for show, he was sure. He’d teach Snape, now how would the disgruntled Potions man feel, to realise Harry had been doing something Harry guessed he had never done.
He found the long roll of parchment eventually, scribbled today’s tasks on a smaller piece of paper and skim read it. He decided he’d take it task by task. Harry went straight to number 2, as Snape had audaciously told him to bathe and get dressed as his first task.
*Feed Fidens. There is a container of cat food especially prepared for Fidens by the house elves in my kitchenette. Do not give him too much, two scoops will do the trick. Make sure there is plenty of ice cold water in his bowl.
Harry looked around. He couldn’t exactly see a kitchenette, or even a kettle. He saw door he hadn’t noticed before to the left, walked through it and saw that it was a small kitchen, equipped with a refrigerator, a coffee maker (both powered by magic presumably), cupboards, a kettle and a sink. Two bowls were on the floor. Fidens was already there looking up at Harry expectantly.
Harry gave Fidens his food and water and watched in bemusement as the cat attacked it with vigour. He then looked back at his list, hoping it would tell him to feed himself, but unfortunately he had to go down into the Dungeons and check on all the ingredients in his office.
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Harry started to knock gently at the panels in the kitchenette. The parchment specified that there was an opening to a secret passage that led straight to Snape’s office in the Dungeons. He tapped and tapped for three minutes before he found it tucked in the corner. The stones shifted from side to side, much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, and Harry stepped through the opening to find himself in a small but well lit passage. It was rather grimy and the air was stale. Harry followed the passage and it slowly went down in an incline before launching into a flight of steps down further into the darkness.
After travelling for fifteen minutes Harry eventually came to what he hoped was the end of his journey. A stone wall was ahead of him. He started tapping randomly at the stone bricks before they moved apart. Harry swept into the room, heading straight for the shelves. He checked the quantities in the jars against a log-book Snape had devised that recorded weight and volume. He did the same in the Potions classroom.
“He really is meticulous,” Harry muttered as he endeavoured to assure himself that everything was in order. Everything appeared to be in place.
“No other students making illegal Potions then,” Harry said with a small smirk as he remembered the things that had been taken in previous years.
Taking a cursory glance at the list again he saw that he had a number of chores to do before he could go and resume his spot in the Great Hall. Harry muttered some more as he realised he had to actually brew a potion.
“Who makes Potions at this time of the morning?”
He chopped up the ingredients with a bored expression. So he needed a “here’s one I prepared earlier” for Monday’s first years lesson. So what? Couldn’t he have done it another time? It had to be done more than 48 but less than 56 hours before it was to be used. Hurrah. He kept double checking his instructions to make sure he was doing it right. As amusing as it would be to sully Snape’s reputation as Potions master extraordinnaire, he didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of the ickle firsties. He checked that the cauldron was hot enough and started stirring in the ingredients. Noxious fumes wafted up, causing Harry to stagger back.
“Is it any wonder he always has such a sour look on his face?” he thought as he crept nearer the cauldron again and continued on.
Once he had finished and set the Potion aside Harry frowned at the list. He had wanted to forget that his next task was to inspect the Slytherin Common Room and have a conference with the Prefects. As he was leaving the classroom he caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror above the washbasin. His once perfect hair was now hanging limp, looking like it had been dragged through an oil pit once, twice or even a hundred times.
“Well that explains it then. Sod!” Harry said before sneering and continuing on his way.