A Path Beyond Survival - Chapter 11: Potions and Toads

The cold of the dungeons felt more intense that day. The dampness clung to the ancient stones, and the air carried a metallic scent, as if the castle itself absorbed the echoes of time. Harry was one of the first to arrive at the Potions classroom door. The silence of the corridor was broken only by the faint crackling of the torches, which flickered at the mercy of invisible drafts that snaked through the underground tunnels.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to chase away the cold that had settled in his bones, but the feeling didn’t come only from the environment. It was something deeper, a weight in his mind that gave him no rest.

Sirius Black.

Since hearing the rumors at breakfast, the name hovered in his thoughts like an unwanted presence. He tried to push the uneasiness away, but deep down, he knew it was useless. The fugitive was getting closer. It was only a matter of time before something happened.

He leaned against the damp wall, watching absentmindedly as the other students arrived. Some whispered to each other, trying to warm up through conversation, while others simply hunched their shoulders inside heavy cloaks.

"Has anyone ever told you that you frown when you're thinking about something serious?"

The voice came softly but with an amused tone. Harry blinked, startled, and turned to find Daphne Greengrass a few steps away from him. Her eyes shone in the dim light, reflecting the flickering glow of the torches.

"It's kind of cute... if it weren’t funny," she added, tilting her head slightly as if studying his expression.

Harry let out a short laugh, trying to ignore the slight warmth that rose to his face.

"It's a natural charm. I can't help it."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but the glimmer of amusement was still there. However, when she looked more closely into his eyes, her expression softened.

"What is it?" she asked, more serious now.

Harry hesitated for a moment but, in the end, decided to speak.

"I was thinking about Sirius Black."

Daphne crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the wall beside him.

"Why?"

He sighed, staring at the cold stones on the floor.

"Because he’s a serial killer?" he said with an ironic smile. "Escaped from Azkaban, and they say he was one of Voldemort's most loyal followers."

Daphne tensed for a brief moment at the mention of the name, but she didn’t interrupt him.

"If he’s loose, it’s not hard to imagine that he might want to find me," Harry continued, glancing at the nearby torch, watching the flickering flames. "I mean, it was because of me that their plan failed. At least, that’s what they say..."

A silence settled between them. Daphne seemed to be pondering, her eyes analyzing Harry as if trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle.

"There are dementors everywhere," she finally said, trying to sound unconcerned. "And a bunch of students from important families. I don’t think he’s going to try anything in here."

Harry turned his face to her, a brief — almost ironic — smile forming on his lips.

"The dementors didn’t stop him from escaping the safest prison in the world," he murmured. "Do you really think they can stop him from getting in here?"

"You mean ‘safe’ in quotes, right?"

Daphne let out a light laugh, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"Maybe."

Harry shook his head, but the smile remained on his face. Despite the weight of the conversation, her presence made everything a little more bearable. There was something about Daphne’s carefree way, the way she talked about things without the weight of judgment, that made him relax. Maybe, he thought, that year wasn’t completely lost.

The murmur of the other students began to echo through the corridors, growing louder as more of them approached. Quick steps reverberated against the cold stones of the dungeons, mixing with the distant creak of an armor swaying in the wind.

Harry and Daphne exchanged glances as the first students turned the corner. As always, the tension between the houses was evident. There was something subtle, but undeniable, in the way Gryffindors and Slytherins kept apart, as if an invisible line divided their spaces. An unwritten code, a game of forces that had existed for generations.

Harry didn’t have to look far to find Malfoy. The blond boy walked as if he were the king of the dungeons, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him like shadows. Since the incident with Hagrid, Draco seemed to hate him even more — if that was possible. Daphne had mentioned that he had even tried to involve his father to "solve" the situation, but without solid proof, the case died before it even began.

"Well, well, my favorite couple," teased Tracey, approaching with a mischievous smile on her lips.

Harry rolled his eyes, but Daphne was quicker.

"I just wanted to get here early and grab a decent spot," she replied, unfazed. "I don’t know why you keep insisting on that story."

"She’s right, Tracey," Blaise chimed in, with his usual calm tone. "There are still fifteen minutes before class starts. I wouldn’t doubt there are already half a dozen people inside waiting for Snape."

Tracey let out a laugh and shrugged, as if that only made the teasing more fun. Daphne nudged Blaise lightly with her shoulder, and Harry, a bit awkwardly, ended up smiling too. After a week hanging out with that group, he was starting to get used to Tracey’s teasing — though the insinuation still made him uneasy.

Daphne was smart, pretty, he wouldn’t deny that. But Harry still didn’t quite know what to think about it.

"Hey, Neville!" Harry called when he saw his friend approaching slowly, holding Trevor with both hands as if the toad were a shield against the world.

Neville looked up, and Harry immediately noticed his downcast expression.

"Are you alright, Neville?" asked Daphne, her voice carrying a gentleness Harry rarely heard in conversations between Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Neville sighed, his shoulders hunched under the weight of worry. "It’s just this class... Snape still gives me chills," he confessed, stopping beside the group.

Harry understood at once. If there was anyone Snape liked to humiliate — maybe even more than himself — it was Neville.

Seeing his friend there, mixed in with the Slytherins, still felt a bit strange. Neville had always avoided that group, especially after years of being targeted by Draco and his gang. But for some reason, he got along with Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise. According to Daphne, it went back to old gatherings, those events of traditional wizarding families — what Tracey liked to call "the finest flower of wizarding society."

Deep down, Harry thought it was a good thing. Neville needed friends. People who would help him stand up.

"Relax, Nev," said Tracey, smirking and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "The worst Snape will do is take a finger from you to put in some potion."

Neville turned pale at once, even though her tone was playful.

Before anyone could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the air, cold and venomous.

"Still hanging out with this lot, Greengrass?"

Draco Malfoy was approaching, arms crossed, a cynical smile on his lips. His eyes, hard and relentless, were fixed on Daphne with a veiled fury. Crabbe and Goyle, as always, followed behind him, imposing in their usual stupidity.

"Your father will love to know who you've been spending time with," Draco went on, his voice low but full of poison.

The group tensed. Harry felt his body prepare to step in, but Daphne didn't move a muscle. Instead, she slowly turned, facing Malfoy with a gaze sharp as a blade.

"Just like yours will love to know about the things you've been doing in secret, Draco," she retorted calmly. "Or hasn't he heard yet about your little Slytherin secrets?"

Draco paled for a second. It was a brief moment, but Harry caught it. A subtle tremor ran through the boy's arrogant posture, and his fists clenched tightly. The tension in the air thickened, heavy like the onset of a storm.

"You better watch what you say, Greengrass," Draco growled, stepping closer. His firm voice tried to hide a latent nervousness. "You know your family still has... unfinished business. And the ones who can deal with that business... are the Malfoys."

Harry stepped forward slightly, moving closer to Daphne, feeling anger boil in his chest. But she didn't back down. Her eyes stayed locked on Draco's, cold as ice.

"Maybe," she said, with a half-smile, "but you should worry about your own secrets, Draco. They tend to come out... when you least expect them."

Silence fell. Draco's gaze gleamed with something between hatred and hesitation. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He just shot a deadly glare at the group and turned on his heel, walking away with Crabbe and Goyle right behind.

Harry exhaled slowly, realizing he'd been holding his breath.

Daphne, on the other hand, remained still, her eyes fixed on the curve of the corridor where Malfoy had vanished.

"That was..." Harry began, but stopped, not sure what word to use.

"Necessary," she finished, without looking at him.

"Today you will prepare a Shrinking Solution," Snape suddenly announced, his voice cutting through the dense air of the room like a blade.

The murmur ceased immediately. A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional clinking of glass and the crackling of flames under the cauldrons.

"The instructions are on the board. You have until the end of class to finish."

Snape wasted no time on explanations or demonstrations. He simply turned away, letting the threatening tone of his words echo through the room, as if only the most attentive would survive the task.

Harry frowned, looking at the blackboard where the potion steps were listed. As always, Snape had been vague enough to confuse half the class, and the rest would probably mess up out of fear.

Still, unlike other years, Harry took a deep breath and decided to do things differently. He read each line carefully, going over in his mind what he remembered from the Healing Magic books — even if only a few things came to him clearly. Some of the processes described there resembled potions he had studied, and because of that, he felt more confident than usual.

Beside him, Neville was shaking so much he looked like he could knock over the cauldron just from the sound of his trembling hands.

Harry cast a quick glance in Snape's direction. Through the columns of smoke rising from the first cauldrons, he could feel the professor's eyes fixed on him. There was something almost predatory in his expression — as if he were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Slow down, Neville," Harry murmured, keeping his voice low, almost a whisper. "Your potion will change color soon, but you need to go easy on the ingredients. It's supposed to turn acid green, remember?"

Neville nodded, but his hands were out of control.

Harry turned back to his own workstation, stirring the contents of his cauldron slowly, until he heard the sound of glass clinking loudly. Spinning around quickly, he saw Neville pour an exaggerated amount of chopped roots — much more than the potion required.

Within seconds, the liquid in Neville’s potion began to bubble strangely before turning a glaring shade of orange.

Harry didn’t even have time to react.

"What are you doing, Longbottom?"

Snape’s voice boomed through the room, sharp and cutting like a whip, making some students flinch.

"I... I..." Neville stammered, his face going almost as pale as the shirt under his robes.

"Did I not say to follow the instructions on the board?" Snape was approaching slowly, like a shadow, his black robes billowing around him. "Or did you think you could innovate? What a brilliant idea, Longbottom."

"Professor, I..."

"Can you read? Or is that too complicated for your abilities as well?"

Harry clenched his fists, anger rising in hot waves through his chest, but he remained silent. Neville looked on the verge of breaking down.

"Professor, if I could help Neville, I’m sure—" Hermione began from one of the tables behind, her voice trembling but determined.

"I did not ask for your help, Miss Granger," Snape cut her off, his cold gaze falling on her. "I already know what we can do."

Harry followed Snape's approach with his eyes. He stopped right in front of Neville, his eyes narrow and cold, and for a moment he seemed to almost savor the terror he was causing.

"You still have fifteen minutes until the end of class. Let's test the effectiveness of your potion on your toad."

Harry felt his stomach twist as Snape's gaze landed on Trevor, huddled in the corner of the table.

"A poorly brewed Shrinking Solution can be quite an effective poison, Longbottom," Snape said, with a dark smile. "Maybe then you'll learn to follow orders."

He walked away, robes swishing, moving on to torment other tables, while Neville looked petrified, his eyes fixed on the toad as if it might explode at any moment.

Harry moved closer, lowering his voice so only Neville could hear:

“Listen, Nev. Pay attention to what I'm going to say, okay? The potion isn't completely ruined. It can be fixed, but you need to listen to me carefully.

Neville raised his eyes, his breathing fast and uneven.

"Harry, what if I... what if I mess up again?" he whispered, his voice shaky.

"I'm here. You won't mess up. Just trust me."

Harry took a deep breath, pulling from memory everything he knew about that potion, mentally reorganizing the steps.

"First, take only half of what's in there. The rest we’re going to neutralize. Then, add a small pinch of valerian root to balance it. Slowly."

Neville, still with trembling hands, did as Harry said. The intense orange began to lose its brightness, gradually taking on a shade closer to the desired green.

"That's it, keep going. Now, stir clockwise three times, then counterclockwise once."

Harry watched every movement, sometimes even cutting the ingredients himself and discreetly handing them to Neville, careful not to let Snape see.

Daphne, sitting right in front, observed everything with a curious look but without interfering.

Neville, despite his nervousness, managed to finish the process. When the potion reached the right green tone, Harry smiled, relieved.

"There. Now, the shrinking spell. I can help you if you want," Harry said quietly.

Neville took a deep breath, raising his wand. The tip trembled a bit, but less than before. With a careful swish and the spell pronounced in a low voice, Neville completed the final step.

The potion bubbled one last time before settling, as if finally ready.

"We did it, Nev," said Harry, giving his friend an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Neville let out a nervous but genuine laugh. "Thanks, Harry. I... I thought everything was going to go wrong."

"I wouldn't let that happen," Harry replied, glancing at Snape, who was still moving between the tables, unaware of the small triumph they had just achieved.

But deep down, Harry knew: if Snape noticed, the problem would be something else.

"Time's up," Snape announced, his voice echoing darkly through the room. "It's time to test Longbottom's potion. I hope you've said goodbye to your toad."

The sneer the professor shot at Neville was enough to make the boy pale even more, while his eyes darted anxiously to Trevor — motionless on the table, as if he too sensed the danger.

Snape carefully took the vial, examining the bright green liquid with suspicion. His eyes flashed with doubt, but he said nothing. He simply took a small dropper and slowly dripped a few drops onto the toad.

Neville held his breath, his hands pressed flat against the wooden table, as if that could keep the floor from vanishing beneath his feet.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, in front of everyone, Trevor began to shrink, his skin rippling until, in place of the toad, there was only a tiny, healthy tadpole, swimming in a small swirl of water in the container beside him.

A collective sigh ran through the room. Gryffindor students, wide-eyed, started clapping quietly, while even Daphne and Tracey exchanged surprised looks, with subtle smiles.

But the only sound that stood out was Snape’s sharp voice.

"I said no one was to help him!"

Silence fell again. Snape turned on his heel, his eyes fixed on Harry with a cold glint.

"Potter, what do you think you were doing?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence.

"Me, Professor? What do you mean? I was focused on my potion. How could I have helped Neville?"

Snape approached, his face just inches from Harry’s, his robes billowing like black wings.

"I don’t know how, Potter. But I know it was you."

Pulling a small translucent vial from within his robes, Snape dripped a few drops onto Trevor, who quickly returned to his normal size, croaking in confusion.

"Minus five points from Gryffindor."

The words fell like stones, but Harry kept his gaze steady.

Snape waved his wand at the board, erasing the instructions with a sharp flick.

"Leave your potion vials on my desk. You’re dismissed. Results will be given next class."

One by one, the students began placing their vials, eager to escape the oppressive presence of the professor. Harry was the last.

As he placed his own vial on the desk, he stared at Snape for a long moment.

"I know it was you, Potter," Snape growled, not raising his voice, but filling it with pure venom. "Longbottom would never be capable of something like this."

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe it was Greengrass, or Davies," he suggested casually, as if commenting on the weather. "Or who knows, Nott and Zabini? They were all there. Why me, Professor? I’ve never been very talented at Potions, have I?"

Snape clenched his fist, his eyes flashing.

"I don’t know what you did, but I will find out. Now get out of my sight."

Without waiting for Snape to take more points, Harry turned and left the room with steady steps, breathing deeply as soon as he crossed the door.

Neville was leaning against one of the hallway pillars, with Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise beside him. Color had returned to his face, but his eyes still shone with traces of tears.

"Thank you, Harry," Neville murmured, his voice shaky but sincere, as he gave his friend a light pat on the shoulder. "Trevor is my best friend… I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him."

Harry smiled, relaxing his shoulders.

"It’s okay, Nev. That’s what friends are for."

Together, they began to climb the stairs leading to the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing through the cold stone corridors.

That’s when Daphne, walking beside Harry, gave him a sharp look, a light smile playing on her lips.

"I didn’t know you were so good at Potions," she murmured, in a conspiratorial tone. "Hiding something, Potter?"

Harry gave her a playful glance, winking slightly.

"Healing Magic," he replied, with a half-smile.

Daphne raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised, but didn’t press further.

And Harry, inside, knew that was a convenient truth — after all, studying to become a healer required much more Potions knowledge than anyone realized. And he didn’t intend to let that skill go unnoticed.