Chapter Five: Unfamiliar Excitement

Harry opened his eyes to the sight of three concerned faces staring down at him. He regained his senses, realizing that he was lying on his back on the floor of the great hall

"Harry, are you all right? Oh, I was so worried…," Hermione trialed off.

"Wha-what happened?"

"You were staring into space for over five minutes. Then you gave an agonizing scream, I swear it gave me goosebumps, and fell backwards off your bench. I was just about to call McGonagall down here, but the fall must have woken you up."

Harry started at her for a minute before his mind caught up and he blinked. Knowing he might pass out again if he sat up quickly, Harry slowly pushed himself up. Ignoring the hands offered to him (he'd been dropped one too many times falling for that trick), he pulled himself up onto the bench. Sitting back down, Harry continued eating his breakfast as if nothing had happened. After a few moments of silence, he realized that everyone continued to stare at him.

"What?" Harry snapped, glaring around the table. "I had a flashback. What's the big deal?"

"We're just worried about you, Harry!" Hermione cried.

"Worried?! Worried, oh, spare me the theatrics. Of course you're worried NOW! Too bad you couldn't worry about me when it would have helped!" Harry slammed his silverware back onto the table. Standing up, he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the great hall.

Fuming, Harry decided he'd simply make his way to the dungeons, as his Advanced Potionmaking class began in just a few minute. When he entered the classroom, Harry was startled to notice that the only other student in the room was Draco. Surprisingly, Malfoy was alone, as he had been on the train. Harry was puzzled as to why none of the other Slytherins seemed to hang off of Malfoy's every word this year. Perhaps the Malfoy family had fallen out of the Dark Lord's favor. Harry hadn't been keeping up with the politics for the last year and a half, obviously. Not much news made it into Azkaban, and even less made it to Harry. He had focused his attention on…other things.

For the first time since he'd come to Hogwards as a child, harry felt at home in the dungeon classroom. The cool air, dim light and unadorned walls were familiar to him. Though his memories of smaller dungeons were as far from pleasant as an emotion can get, at least they were serene and lacked the chaos of the great hall or the headache-inducing bright light of the upper floors of the castle. Harry found the quiet calmed him and the breathing of the boy on the other side of the room kept him from panicking at being alone in a dungeon room.

Pulling out the potions manual he had purchased two days ago in Diagon Alley, Harry set it on his desk with parchment and quill, noting with a mixture of anxiety and disappointment that more students were arriving and class was about to start.

The door flew open and Snape strode into the dungeon, his robes flapping behind him. Immediately all chatter ceased as students took their seats and pulled out books.

"This class will be unlike other potions classes, in that I will expect competence out of you. Any student who fails to keep up will be dropped from the class, no questions asked." Snape looked pointedly at Harry as he said this, but Harry just stared back , internally smirking. He knew Snape would be surprised at his pointing making, for it had changed over the time he had been gone. One thing that could be said for Azkaban was that it teaches one to center oneself and focus. Harry had spent the majority of the last year and a half practicing ignoring the outside world, and he knew this focus would allow him to follow the directions exactly. Plus the studying he had done had finally helped him understand the theory behind potion-making and he would now be able to comprehend the ingredients and their reactions. Harry cut off his contemplation as Snape continued talking.

"The potions we create this year will be more dangerous both in mixing and in their function. We will start with a potion of intermediate difficulty as and introduction to the more advanced potions that we will start on later. This is the Draught of Dreams potion. It's most difficult aspect is that the intention of the potion must be determined by the potion's maker. Throughout the brewing process, the maker must focus on the type of dreams they want the potion to create. The mental images of the creator will be incorporated in the potion after the halfway point. The more clear the mental images, the more fully formed and effective the potion will be. The most difficult to create is a true narrative, rather than disconnected images. I doubt any in the class will accomplish this. Turn to pace 63 of your text and begin."

Harry opened his book, reading the description of the potion. He felt an unfamiliar emotion curling in his stomach and with a start realized it was excitement. He knew he could make an excellent Draught of Dreams, or rather Nightmares.

Harry read over the recipe and stood up to go get the necessary ingredients from the cabinet. He was surprised at how few ingredients the potion actually required. Most of the work was in stirring carefully and focusing on the memories.

Carrying the ingredients back to his desk and setting them down, Harry pulled out his wand and lit a medium-size fire under his cauldron. Casting an augumenti charm, he filled the cauldron halfway with water and chopped the first ingredient. At this point he was supposed to let the potion sit for five minutes. He did not yet have to focus on the images that went into the potion and glanced around the room. Everyone else seemed to be on about the same step as him. Hermione appeared to be muttering to herself and Draco seemed to be meditating with his eyes closed. No one else in the room seemed to know what to do. Harry began crushing his next ingredient, squeezing the juice out of the fruits of a plant he knew to be a hallucinogen in the Muggle world. Another unusual thing about this potion was it seemed to us Muggle ingredients more than most other potions. His five minutes were up and the scraped the juice into the potion, stirring it 15 times clockwise with a glass stirring rod while finding the third ingredient, which had the appearance of a multicolored bouncy-ball, with his other hand. When the 15 stirs were up, Harry dropped the ball into the potion, knowing it would dissolve and absorb his images.

This was the tricky part. The brewer had to focus on sending their image through their wand, while using the wand to stir the potion with a constant counterclockwise movement for as long as it took to insert the memories into the potion. Then the last two ingredients would be added, sealing the images inside the potion.

Harry began stirring his potion, falling into a trancelike state and letting the memories form into a story and flow down his wand.

fin de capitulo cinco