A Little Spark In the Powderhouse

A Little Spark in the Powder House.--Chapter 1

"Today couldn´t possibly get any worse," Professor Snape thought to

himself.

The first year Hufflepuffs were bad enough, but every class with the fifth year Gryffindors was guaranteed to end up rotten. He cast a glance in Longbottom´s direction. The oozing blasphemy rising from the cauldron he shared with Potter definitely was not an Adflictatio-Cesso**. Another sweep of the class showed nothing else out of the ordinary. Snape´s gaze lingered on the ceiling...

"Damn, no Scintilla**."

The Scintilla was a bright red, yellow and pale blue spider just longer than an outstretched hand. A newly discovered species, the Scintilla was rumoured to be very useful in Potion´s Craft due to its similarities with the Spuma** spider which itself was a very handy ingredient. At least it would have been useful to him if it hadn´t somehow gotten out of its cage. The thought of the spider finding its way into a student´s cauldron kept him on the edge throughout the day.

On a lighter note, he was glad to have had the insight to prepare a litre of Bezoar antidote, Potter and Longbottom´s bastard creation now looked as though it was about to start spitting out toxic vapours. Snape smiled a very subtle, but very evil smile and discreetly made his way over to the two misfits´ work bench.

"Excellent, Longbottom," he sneered, "What were you planning on calling this?"

Both boys looked up at him, they´re faces steadily growing paler. Longbottom´s eyes nearly popped out of his head and he screeched as though he saw something frightening. That was new, but it was four years too late for Longbottom´s reaction to be anything but abnormal. On the other hand, Potter looked quite shaken himself. Snape found that more amusing, yet the "Scolded Dog" act never achieved sympathy from the cold-hearted Potions teacher.

Now what that idiot boy mumbling? Phifer, slider, scryer? Potter had clearly lost it. Then it dawned on Snape, he was saying...

"Spider!"

Snape looked up just in time to see a certain Technicolor spider falling towards the bubbling monstrosity in the boys´ cauldron. Could this day possibly get any worse!?

A hasty, spur-of-the-moment plan popped into his head, and was put into action as soon as it registered. Bounding up, arms outstretched, Snape was sure he looked absurd, but if the students valued their lives they wouldn´t acknowledge it.

How long had he been in the air anyways? It was at that moment when The Little Voice in the back of his skull decided to remind him of one of the finer points of physics -

"What goes up, must come down Severus."

"Damn gravity,"

was the last thing that passed through his mind before he crashed down into the cauldron, subsequently turning it over. Snape found himself and a tidal wave of God-knows-what hurled onto the dungeon floor.

***

It was dark when Snape came to and something warm and presumably alive under his hands.

`Ah ha! Try and escape from me again you little bastard,´

he thought triumphantly. What a minute? It can´t be this warm in the dungeons. And the floor feels...so soft and lumpy. Bloody hell, it must be that mess Potter and Longbottom spawned.

Reluctantly, he squeezed an eye open and regretted doing so. It was not the Scintilla he now had such a tight grip on, but rather the collar of Longbottom´s robe. More than just clutching onto him, which was bad enough, he was lying directly on top of the boy. And to make matters even worse, they were covered in sticky grey ooze. Of course the Scintilla was nowhere in sight.

Snape peeled himself off Longbottom, trying not to lose the little dignity he had left; once on his feet he accessed the damage. The grey stuff was everywhere. Potter, who had been standing next to Longbottom, had a good coat of the mess on him. The students in the bench next to them, Malfoy and Miss Granger had a nice helping on their right-most sides. And it looked like little Weasley decided to check on his bosom buddy and had gotten a nice bath as well.

At once extremely grateful for having the Bezoar antidote on hand, he retrieved the flask from his desk, unscrewed the top, and took a long pull from it. A few students stared at him in astonishment, but at this point Snape no longer cared. Hell, it wouldn´t kill them to think once in a while - even if it was reflecting on the possibility that their Potions professor was a closet alcoholic.

He offered the flask to the nearest drenched student. And, since Longbottom was clearly comfortable lying in wide eyed in shock on the floor, that person just happened to be... Potter. Oh, happy day. Potter froze, the exterior of his face clearly betraying the interior desire to be anywhere, rather than in the vicinity of his sopping, and very angry Potions professor.

The boy was staring at the flask like it was poisonous. How could Potter be so stupid?

"I´m sorry, Mr. Potter. I did not realize that you wished to meet your Maker so soon," Snape hissed.

No need to waste precious time on that numskull. Snape handed the flask to Malfoy instead, who hastily gulped down some of the liquid, though the face he made when the flask left his lips could best be summed up by the Muggle expression "a Kodak Moment". Miss Granger looked at the flask discerningly for a second before taking a very small sip. Her expression after tasting the antidote a bit more controlled. Weasley took the flask next, his after-expression even more entertaining than Malfoy´s. Predictably, Weasley then gave the phial to Potter, who now took it, though somewhat reluctantly. Potter tried to suck it up, yet it was clear he was tempted to make a face just as the others had done. The flask then made its way down to Longbottom, who was finally sitting up. The boy reacted badly to the antidote: he took one sip and promptly spat it out - right on Snape´s robe.

Snape was aware that he couldn´t box the students´ ears, but by now was far too enraged to simply dock house points. Longbottom received a smack on the back of his head seconds later.

"Suicidal, are you? If you want to kill yourself, Mr. Longbottom, kindly refrain from doing it in MY CLASS!!" was the less-than-subtle insult to the previous injury.

Longbottom shrank as far down to the floor as he could and meekly emptied the remains of the phial. Turning a vivid green shade, he muttered something to the effect of `Tastes like kitty litter.´

"And you know from experience I wager," Snape growled. "Potter, Longbottom, Weasley, Granger, and Malfoy...detention! Right now! As for the rest of you, get out of here NOW. Class dismissed!"

The rest of the class needed no further invitation, they couldn´t have moved faster if the school were attacked by Death Eaters.

The five who remained looked as though they had seen a Grim, walked under a ladder, broken a mirror, and spilled a truckload of salt in one swift, collective move.

Snape scowled at them, "Follow me." He began walking briskly toward the supply room and, not wanting to suffer any more of Snape´s wrath, the four Gryffindors and the Slytherin followed sullenly.

Back in the classroom, a hand-sized, bright red spider with splotches of pale blue and yellow fuzz crawled out from under a bench. Big globs of grey ooze clung to its body, which was missing a leg, several eyes, and one of its fangs.

The injured Scintilla swayed side to side drunkenly as it proceeded to scuttle towards Snape´s desk.

End of Chapter 1