~`6`~

When Professor Snape entered the room, he did so with flair, his cape billowing behind him like wings and Harry was awed.

"Good afternoon Professor!" He said, remembering it from back in school. Greeting the teacher was something they had learnt to do early on and now that there was a professor Harry wanted so badly to learn from, he wanted to make sure to make a good impression. He was alone when he said it but as Tom picked up the slack repeating the greeting as well, the class joined in a chorus and Harry beamed up at Professor Snape who looked at him blankly.

"Good afternoon." Professor Snape returned the greeting before turning to the register in front of him and taking roll call. This time the names were called out in alphabetical order according to their first name and even though Harry was annoyed to hear Draco's name said in a slightly kinder voice he moved on from it quickly enough. For a split second he thought Professor Snape had paused for a bit before calling out his name but that was a thought thrown away quickly enough. The very, very long pause before Professor Snape called out "Lestat Granger," proved that well enough.

Harry was glad to see Professor Snape didn't react to his name. All week long in the other classes the professors had made a fuss about him, Professor Flitwick even falling off his footstool when he reached Harry name, but not Professor Snape.

He was so cool.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he said in a voice so soft, it was amazing how it resonated throughout the room. Perhaps it was the acoustics of the room, or perhaps it was just plain magic, but whatever it was, Harry thought he could listen to Professor Snape talk forever. "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."

And Harry would try his absolute best to not be a dunderhead.

Severus was thrown off. He'd been thrown off since the very start of the year, the sneezing fits not letting up, not for all the Pepper-up he was downing, and throughout it all his peers kept making light of it, saying someone was remembering him.

Ghastly, the whole lot of them.

And now, Potter was the one throwing him off.

He'd known the boy would be trouble, him and the Granger child had formed a coalition that put to mind the way Sirius Black had attached himself to James Potter all those years ago but in such a different way. The Granger child was smart, beyond anything they had seen in years. Severus had expected it to cause friction with his house when the boy's intellect showed them up but so far the boy was quiet and unassuming, not shying away when asked questions but not putting his hand up to answer either.

Geniuses were often badly socialised but that wasn't exactly the case for Granger. He managed to be aloof without being cold and Slytherin appreciated him for it.

But Potter…

Potter was always going to be a wild card, but Severus hadn't quite expected him to be such a wild card. He had already heard about how Potter had been in the other classes from his fellow teachers, eager to learn, but not to participate and yet his behaviour in Potions class was…

It was unlike anything Severus had ever seen from a student. He raised his hand to answer all the questions but didn't sulk when not called upon. He actually used the measuring scales to weigh out the exact amounts of ingredients, not going by the teaspoons and tablespoons the rest did, he cut the slugs with a precision that should have been difficult, if not impossible for an eleven year old, when Severus had passed him by during his inspections he had heard the boy mutter to himself about catalysing reactions, had even marked the quadrants into the rim of his cauldron to get the most precise clockwise turns.

It was the kind of preparation Severus had done before entering Potions class, tutored by his mother in these ways.

Severus had expected to see James Potter in Harry. Had hoped, but even still expected to see Lily in him.

But now, as he watched the diligent way Harry kept a watch on his cauldron, the next ingredient at the ready to be thrown in, the boy reminded him more of himself.

"Careful Malfoy, those horned slugs aren't going to stew themselves you know." The boy drawled as the final stir of his own potion was done and his wand waved over the cauldron leading to the perfect shade of pink smoke to rose from the surface. There was smug grin on his face as the potion was put into the vial while Draco glared at him and Snape's heart lurched as Potter turned to shoot him the sweetest smile in the world.

As a choked sound left him, Severus downed a swig of the Pepper-up once again.

Because that saccharine pining smile was exactly what he would shoot Lily, and if it was aimed at him…

Another time and Severus would be cackling away with glee at the thought of James Potter turning in his grave. Now, he suddenly wished he was in his own grave, far away from this.

Of all the students to ever develop affection for him, it just had to be Harry freaking Potter.

Tom was happy. He was happy with what he was doing, where his life was going, with the friends he was making, with everything.

He was so happy, he forgot about everything else.

So when in his first class of DADA he found himself face to face with a Quirrell who stared at Harry with a hunger, he cursed himself.

How could he have forgotten about his other self?!