Friday, the last day of classes before the holiday.

Harry was in Potions class, making a potion called Rememigrus*. It was supposed to heal small cuts, if you made the potion correctly, but Harry hadn’t been listening. Harry was figuring out how to make the potion with Draco, but they weren’t getting very far. Everyone was working hard on the potion, while Snape walked around the tables, making comments every so often.

“Does any one know what this potion is used for?” asked Snape as he stood in the middle of the room. Most looked up from their cauldrons, but some didn’t. Hermione immediately raised her hand; Snape ignored her, like he always did. Harry saw Snape’s eyes move to his, and his lip curled malevolently. “Potter. What is this potion used for?”

“I…don’t know, professor,” said Harry. Harry heard Draco say quietly to him, “Why are you calling him ‘professor’?” Harry ignored him for the time being.

“Then, what is the third ingredient you must add to the potion?” asked Snape, clearing enjoying Harry’s ignorance of what the potion is or does. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione raising her hand, once more.

“I don’t know, professor,” said Harry, becoming irritated by Snape.

“Do you even know the name of the potion, Potter?” asked Snape, clearing mocking him. Harry heard Draco whisper, “Rememigrus.” But Harry didn’t want to use an answer from another person, so he once again ignored Draco.

Harry knew what Snape was trying to get him annoyed, but it was working. “Why don’t you ask someone who knows the answers!” said Harry, his voice raised as he glared at Snape.

“Get back to your potions,” said Snape sharply, to the rest of the class. He swiftly and fluidly walked over to Harry. He leaned over the table, staring at Harry, his hands separated on the table. He then turned to Draco. “Malfoy, you need more Bruisewort, get it from my desk.”

Draco got up and once he did, Snape turned to Harry once more. “Do not speak to me like one of your peers, Potter. It’s not becoming of you. So, I’d be more careful, if I were you,” said Snape.

“Maybe if you treated me like a person, I might actually respect you,” said Harry, still angered. “And I can watch out for myself, thanks.”

“Careful, Potter,” said Snape coldly. He stood up from leaning over, still looking at Harry with vicious eyes. “And I don’t think you can.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, he was still angry, but now he was curious. What does he mean I can’t take care of myself?!

“Just watch what you say in my class, Potter,” Snape said, before he walked back to the front of the room. He took a seat at his desk. Harry noticed that Snape wouldn’t look at him for the rest of the class, which Harry knew was very unlike Snape. He didn’t even get up to criticize the student’s potions, but Harry didn’t take notice, nor did anyone else. Harry and Draco got up from their seats when the class was over and made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” asked Draco, when they finally sat down at the Slytherin table.

Harry and Draco sat next to each other on the side of the table that faced the rest of the Great Hall. Blaise was sitting on the other side of Harry, but he was talking to Nott, who usually ate by himself. Harry noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were sitting opposite Draco and him, but were too involved in their plates, which had a massive heap of food upon it.

“I’ve told you before: Snape hates me. He was telling me that he thinks I can’t watch out for myself,” said Harry. He grabbed some food and sloppily put it on his plate, not really caring what it was.

“Why would he tell you that?” asked Draco, as he too put food on his plate. “Come on. I’ve told you before that Snape doesn’t hate you.”

“Dumbledore told me that my father and Snape were in the same year, and that they hated each other.”

“So? What does that have to do with Snape and you? Harry, you think about things too deeply.” Harry could see that Draco didn’t believe him.

Harry looked at the High Table and saw Snape engrossed in a conversation with another professor. Harry moved closer to Draco and said, “Snape hated my father and now he’s taking it out on me.”

“Are you being serious or is this some sort of joke?” asked Draco, but from the look on Harry’s face, he knew that he was no joke. “Well, then do you know why Snape hated your father?”

“No. Dumbledore said that I had to ask Snape if I wanted to know. But its not bloody likely he’s going to tell me anytime soon. I’m surprised you don’t see him glaring at me all the time,” said Harry.

“I’m sure I’ll notice it now, now that you’ve brought it to my attention,” said Draco, turning back to his food. Harry saw Draco glance up to the professors, and Harry, once again, did so too.

Harry saw that Snape was speaking to the same professor, but then stopped and turned to Harry and Draco, who were looking at him. Snape slowly turned back to the other professor, who hadn’t noticed anything.

After lunch, Harry, still wondering about what Snape had been talking about in class, went to the Common Room alone; Harry had a free period the others didn’t have. As he sat down on a couch near the fire, his thoughts traveled to that day when he had been in that small room in Dumbledore’s office. How Snape had accused Professor Quirrel of doing something to Harry’s broom.

But Professor Quirrel wouldn’t jinx my broom, only Snape would. As Harry continued to think about it, his thoughts began to click into place. That must have been why he said I should watch out! Because he might jinx my broom again! I have to talk to Dumbledore!

Harry quickly got up from the couch and put his hand to the stone. It seemed to move too slowly, knowing that he wanted to talk to Dumbledore immediately. He walked all the way to the stone gargoyle, which stood before the escalator-like stairs. Harry muttered, “Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.” But nothing happened. He tried so many other candies, but it was when he said, “Chocolate Frog” that the gargoyle finally moved.

Harry finally stood before Dumbledore’s door, and all the eagerness vanished. Maybe he shouldn’t tell Dumbledore. He could deal with it on his own, right? While staring at the door, Harry saw something he hadn’t noticed before: a knocker. The knocker was an elegant Griffin.

“Harry, you may come in, if you wish,” said Dumbledore, from the other side of the door. Harry jerked slightly when he heard Dumbledore address him, especially because he didn’t want Dumbledore to know he was there. But he opened the door and walked in anyway.