After lunch, they had more classes, and then dinner, and then Harry had to go to Professor Snape's office for detention. He knocked softly on the door, heart in his throat, but determined not to cry, even if he was to get caned, like Dudley said they did to freaks at schools like his.
"Enter."
Harry pushed open the door and gaped around the room at the bottles and vials and jars of weird, squiggly plants and severed animal parts floating in variously colored liquids. The smell of disinfectant and something . . . earthy hung in the air.
"Close you mouth, Potter, before a doleshinkle weed makes a home of it." The professor was hunched over his desk, writing quickly in bright red ink all over some parchments, which must have been student work. He hadn't even looked up! While still not looking at Harry, he pointed a slim finger toward the door that led to his classroom. "You will find cauldrons in there. Clean them. Without a wand. Go now."
Harry jumped to obey, and after rolling up the sleeves of his robe, spent the next few hours scrubbing cauldrons. He was pretty good at cleaning, but there were a couple stains he just could not get out. He scrubbed at those for a long time, until his arms ached, and his fingers were sore and blistered from gripping the cloths. He had only two left, from the dozen he'd been assigned, and each of them with one last unassailable stain that he was still working on, when a voice behind him made him jump.
"That's enough. Dismissed."
He spun around to find Snape only a foot or two away, and looked up into the sneering face. "But, sir, I wasn't able-"
"Are you still having trouble with simple instructions?" the professor snapped. "I can give you another detention, if that's the case."
"No, sir. Sorry, sir." He quickly put away his cleaning supplies and hurried to the door, not catching the pensive look Snape sent after him.
He didn't have time to do very much homework before he was scheduled for bed, but he got a start on reading for Transfiguration, in preparation for an essay they had due in two days. At bed time, once again, Harry didn't want to undress in front of his Housemates, and so crawled onto his bed, and shut the drapes before changing into his nightclothes - an enormous shirt of Dudley's that was worn enough to be softer than most of his other clothes.
"Awww, is the little half-blood shy?" came a voice from the room. Harry recognized it, though the boy had never spoken to him. "Hiding away behind his curtains so no one can see his nasty little half-blood body?"
"Shut it, Zabini," said another, cooler voice.
"He your boyfriend, Teddy?" Zabini teased.
"I said shut it. And I mean it," Teddy growled. "You don't know what you're messing with."
With that, Zabini left him alone, but Harry's whole face was burning, as he crept out from his drapes and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the loo.
He would have to face them sooner or later . . . sooner, he realized, as he had to shower with them in the morning. He couldn't cross Snape again, that was for certain. That night, for the first time in a long time, he dreamed of the snake-like man who laughed in the midst of a flash of green light, and his scar hurt something fierce when he woke in the morning.
TBC . . .