GOF: Part 14
Draco seemed bent on talking to him, taunting him about his declaration the day of the second task. Draco had asked Harry if he would like his parents to adopt him. The thought of totting around with his nose stuck in the air and living under Lucius Malfoy’s thumb was enough to turn his stomach. Harry had said thanks, but even though he could probably pull of the blonde that he held no desire for the Malfoy family stick or whatever to be permanently shoved up his bum.
Harry was ignoring him the best he could as he walked into the Great Hall when he saw Ron, who had stood from his seat and was now heading over to Harry.
Dean Thomas at the Gryffindor table saw where Ron was heading and started clapping his hands wildly. All of the younger years in the hall seemed to follow Dean’s lead. Were they applauding him? Harry thought.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked.
‘It’s you, mate,” said Ron. “The schools divided, two Hogwarts champions, one younger, one older. One, is a Slytherin brute and one is known to have friends in other houses and to be an all around decent kind of guy. The rivalry is real, Harry.”
Rivalry, he definitely didn’t want to have a rivalry with someone who looked like Cassius Warrington, but it seemed as if that had been decided without him. His table had been split with some invisible dividing line. Warrington wasn’t even at breakfast but as far as Harry could tell the upper part of the table was filled with fifth, sixth, and seventh years students, while the others had been delegated to sit closer to the doors. Members on both sides seemed to be staring at one another as if they were on the brink of war, one wrong word and spells would start flying.
The school might have had two Slytherin champions but apparently he had been deemed the lesser evil.
It turned out that even champions had to go to potions. Thirty minutes in and Harry found himself hoping for another appearance by Colin Creevey. He would gladly face Rita Skeeter again than Snape in the mood that he was currently in.
The man paced back in forth in front of Harry’s workstation, glowering down at him like he had committed some kind of heinous crime. Nothing Harry did was right. His slicing was subpar. His dicing was disastrous. And his stirring was the “strongest indication yet that you are an incompetent buffoon and unworthy of the house of Slytherin”. Great, Harry thought.
“You know, Potter,” Snape said the ninth time he stopped by his station. He picked up Harry’s blade and began to strip a weed that Harry would need for his potion. “Magic is a wonderful thing. Potions more so. There are potions for almost anything. Potions that can turn you into another person, potions that you can steal your life with a sip, there’s even potions that can make you tell the truth no matter how badly you fight against it. Veriterserum, it’s called. It’s highly regulated of course. You may be familiar with one other regulated material. A certain weed that allows you to breathe underwater.”
Harry nodded.
“I’m not sure I understand the context, sir,” said Harry, feeling more and more anxious the longer Snape stood in front of him. He never lingered longer than to deliver his dose of malice, but this was something different.
“I had a disturbance in the wards around my store room the other night. No one was there naturally, but it did turn out that I was missing quite a few things. It was almost like an invisible man had taken them.”
He looked up at Harry then, the weed that he had been slicing was done to perfection. “The reason for this little anecdote is because if there is another discrepancy in my store’s accounts again that you may find a little truth telling serum finding it’s way into your morning pumpkin juice.”
Snape looked around the room.
“I’m sure there is more than one person who would like to hear all the Savior’s secrets.”
Harry forced himself to meet Snape’s eyes.
“I hope you find the person responsible, sir.”
Snape huffed then turned on his heel.
“Might be hard though,” Harry continued despite himself. “With them being invisible and all.”
Snape glowered, eyeing Harry with all the hate he had the first time he had ever saw him that first year. Then left Harry to his perfected ingredients.
There was a knock on the dungeon door. Too late now, Colin, Harry thought. But it wasn’t Colin, it was Karkaroff. Nervous, but steady he walked over to Snape.
“We need to talk,” said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. Kararoff seemed to want no one to hear what he was saying as he barely moved his mouth to speak.
“I’ll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff,” Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.
“It’s imperative.”
“What’s so urgent?” Harry heard Snape ask Karkaroff.
“This,” said Karkaroff, and Harry peering around the edge of his cauldron saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm.
“Well?” said Karkaroff, still making every move not to move his lips
“Do you see? It’s never been this clear, never since…”
“Put it away!” snarled Snape, looking anxiously around the classroom.
“But you must have noticed..” Karkaroff began in an agitated voice. But Snape quieted him with a promise to talk later in his rooms.
Harry had no idea what that was about. But he was definitely going to find out.
