SPELLS

By @NE4FREDWEASLEY
SPELLS

Delilah Jackson is the daughter of Seraphina Jackson and the neighbor of Dean Thomas. After meeting the famous Harry Potter and his friend Ron Weasley, and previously meeting her new best friend, Hermione Granger, Delilah feels like her first years at Hogwarts are going to run smoothly. Or will they? sᴏʀᴄᴇʀᴇʀ's sᴛᴏɴᴇ- ᴄʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ 3/17/21

Inspired by: Harry Potter

Chapter 6

Potions

At the start-of-term banquet, Delilah had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked Harry, seeing their stare down in the Great Hall. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry– he hated him.

Potions took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name. “Ah, Yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity.” Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels or depressing stories.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but Delilah caught every word. Science was one of her key subjects in Muggle School.

Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death… if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione and Delilah were on the edge of their seats, Hermione desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead, and Delilah interested in the subject right away.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was. Then, Hermione, whose hand was shot into the air, the second Snape asked the question. Harry’s gaze finally rested on Delilah, who was looking at him dead in the eyes. “I don’t know, sir,” said Harry.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything.” He ignored Hermione’s hand. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what a bezoar was.

He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione, who was practically standing, her hand quivering in the air, and Delilah, who was trying to hold her down. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed. Harry caught Delilah’s eye, and she winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.” Delilah was the only one jotting this all down.

“Very good, Miss Jackson. Five points to Gryffindor.”

Everybody in the room looked up in shock. Severus Snape, known for giving points only to his house, gave points to a girl in Gryffindor? “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Little did they know, Delilah Jackson reminded him of a previous friend of his.

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except for Draco Malfoy and Delilah, who seemed like the only two he tolerated.

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. “You– Potter– why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. “Don’t push it,” he muttered, “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry’s mind was racing and his spirits were low. He’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week– why did Snape hate him so much? “Cheer up,” said Ron from beside Delilah, “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Besides, Delilah got us five points. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?”

“You’re meeting Hagrid, Harry? That sounds exciting! Do you think I can tag along with you lot? Hermione says our room needs organizing, and I don’t want to be there for that.”

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