"Indeed. And yet you were ignoring my clear instruction on the matter and once again burdening your more qualified Housemate with your own portion of the work?" By the end, Snape was staring at him in a way that made shivers run up and down Harry's spine.
"Yes, sir," he murmured, wondering what his father thought he was doing. The attack was nothing like the vitriol Harry used to get in Potions class, of course, but since he hadn't expected an attack at all, he felt like he'd been cut adrift. And Snape was still just staring... like he was waiting for something.
Hermione evidently understood what the professor wanted. "Tell him," she said, poking Harry in the arm. "Harry, tell him why you can't charm the potion yourself!"
Something in Harry's mind clicked. Snape was a Slytherin, which meant he had schemes inside schemes. He wasn't just teaching Potions, or favouring his House in hopes of steering the students away from Voldemort waiting in the wings; he was using class time to advance another objective, as well.
"Professor, you know my magic's gone a bit wonky," Harry said, hating the slight whinging tone he used. It was effective, though. The Slytherins practically perked up their ears, despite the way they were all drooping with exhaustion. "You saw how many spells of mine went 'round in circles as the magic was coming back. And so with what you said about these potions being so volatile..."
Snape gave him a hard glare, but that was for the class. "Very well, carry on then."
"Yes, sir," breathed Harry with relief.
He was just getting back to work when pandemonium broke out. Almost en masse, the few Slytherins present began to groan, and then their hands and faces turned puce and began to spot over with those same horrible lesions Theodore Nott had sprouted during Magical Creatures class.
"Oh Merlin, not more," Harry heard Snape mutter under his breath. "Up to the hospital wing, all of you!"
But just as with Theodore, once the spots began to sprout, matters went from bad to worse. In no time at all Slytherins were passing out left and right, knocking over cauldrons as they slumped.
"Mobilicorpus," Snape said, using a single spell to lift up all of the downed students. "As all your potions are in a stable state prior to charm application, we'll continue on Friday. See to it that they are bottled correctly for short-term storage; it should not be beyond the capabilities of a sixth-year. Potter, Granger, Weasley, you three clean up this lot after your potions are put away." He gave a vague wave toward the green potion oozing in various places on the floor. "Class dismissed."
And with that, the Potions Master was on his way to the hospital wing with his sick students. Most of the other Gryffindors quickly bottled up their potions, and left grinning, Seamus calling back in a sing-song voice, "Be good, now!"
"Can't I go to a normal class?" Harry groaned as he got his wand out to try a series of Evanescos. Neville was hanging back, so Harry made sure his cleaning charms only did away with about half of each gloppy mess.
"Oh, let me," Hermione said with a sigh. In no time at all the classroom was spotless.
"Well, at least we have some free time before dinner," Ron said. "What do you want to do, go out flying a bit?"
"Um... did you talk to Ginny, by any chance?"
"Yeah, earlier. Team roster stuff. I get it, Harry. I know why you can't be playing Quidditch just now. I'd think you'd still like to take the old Firebolt out for a spin, see how you feel on it, all that."
"Why can't Harry be playing Quidditch?" asked Neville from behind them.
"Oh. Out of practice and the old magic's just not what it used to be." Harry shrugged. "But a spot of flying before dinner sounds fun, actually. And then... well, listen. I'm in Slytherin now too. So I thought I'd go sit with them for dinner, see how it goes. Nott wasn't too horrible, remember? Not that I trust him, but..." None of his friends said anything. "Don't get mad over the idea."
"I'm worried, not mad," Hermione said in a chiding tone. "We can't really go sit there. I mean, in theory you could invite us but I think it would cause a row, which is the last thing you need. And... well, what Nott did in class was sort of... interesting, but the House as a whole seems awfully hostile. Plus, Snape won't be there to keep them in line, not with all those students having just taken ill."
"And you've only just got back to Gryffindor," Ron complained.
It was Neville, however, who offered the sagest comment of all. "The way things are going, there might not be any Slytherins there for dinner, Harry."
And sure enough, there weren't.
"Epidemic," Luna was saying at the entrance to the Great Hall. "I took a peek in the hospital wing earlier. Filled to the brim, all of them dead to the world and covered in boils and sores. I heard the first three to come down with it actually have pustules or something on the inside, too. Not a single Slytherin has escaped the plague, but those three are the worst. There are so many sick that Madame Pomfrey has taken over several extra rooms and called in extra staff from St. Mungo's, but nobody yet knows what's wrong. I owled my father so he could have an exclusive--"
"Not a single Slytherin?" Harry said, a horrible thought clenching his stomach. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "You have to come down with me to the dungeons, now. What if Draco's sick? Nobody would know!" He glanced toward the Head Table, but as Hermione had predicted, Snape was missing. Harry somehow doubted he was eating at home this evening. "Come on!"
Ron looked longingly over his shoulder toward the tables already laden with food, but then sighed. "All right," he said, and began to trudge alongside of Harry. Hermione didn't comment, not on any of it.
Harry made short work of convincing the stone wall to let him in, then rushed inside. "Draco!"
The Slytherin boy looked up from the couch where he was flipping through a Quidditch magazine. "What?"
"You're all right?"
Draco's eyebrows drew together. "Apparently."
"You don't feel tired or faint? No itching on your arms, your face?"
"No. What's your problem?" Draco glanced to the side as the door thudded closed. His expression darkened slightly even as his perfect manners went on display. "Hello there. Thanks for bringing Harry by."
"We didn't have much choice," said Hermione as she helped herself to a seat. Ron followed suit; only Harry was left standing.
"What's all this about my health?"
Harry sighed. "Something funny is going on--"
"Slytherins are dropping like flies," Ron interrupted.
Hermione gave him a critical look and then briefly explained what they'd seen in classes and heard from Luna.
"Strange it's only the Slytherins," Draco said, his brow furrowing. "I take it Severus is assisting up in the hospital wing? You know, he's seemed distracted ever since you left, Harry." The Slytherin boy suddenly swallowed, his face almost looking like it was cast into shadows. "I thought it was the funeral coming up, actually." With a shake of his head, Draco reverted to his bored faÃade, though again, his hands were shoved deep into his pocket so nobody would know what effort his self-possession was costing him. "If all these students have fallen ill, though? If it started yesterday? I'm sure he's very busy with that and the funeral both."
"The funeral." The implications leapt out at Harry. "Unless the sick students get better awfully fast, there's going to be nobody to attend. I mean, I think the Parkinsons were only allowing Slytherins."
"Sounds like the Parkinsons, all right." Draco wilted a bit, his rigid control weakening. Harry wished he could do something to help. "I'm not invited, Slytherin or no. But Severus said it'll be on the east lawn at noon tomorrow, and I thought that maybe..." Almost as if realizing he was rambling, Draco suddenly gritted his teeth and came to the point. "Harry, could you ask your friends to step out for a moment?"