Harry took a breath. “Done, Professor!” He shouted. 

The entire class groaned. Snape walked over, and with a look at the potion nodded. “None of you will be receiving any points today.” He announced. Harry’s grin split his face. 

It had become something of a contest between him and the first year students now, seeing who could brew potions faster. Snape had taken away points from them first if Harry finished before them, but a conversation with Professor McGonagall had ended that practice after Harry began beating entire classes. His aptitude with potions became something of a school legend, though many students complained of hundreds of points being lost in a matter of weeks. 

“Come on, professor. You can’t expect us to beat him, he’s Harry Potter! He could beat Voldemort in a duel without a wand, for Merlin’s sake.” Harry heard a student complain. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Duel? More like take a hit and live. But nobody could correct the rumor, or believe Harry, so it spread like a wildfire. 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Potter has practiced potions for one week, Weasley. I can expect more from my students, I’m sure.” 

“He’s had you teaching him personally! I don’t think he’s been sleeping the past few days. We’ve all seen him in the library browsing books fourth years shouldn’t be reading. This is unfair!” He protested. 

“If you would like remedial classes, I’m sure I can accommodate two students instead of one.” Snape offered. Bill Weasley shut his mouth.

Several glares landed on Harry. He responded with the most innocent smile he could manage. Had he been sleeping? To tell the truth, not much. Much less than a child his age should. In this time he practiced, learned, and brewed. If he had kept track of time he may have realized that he had spent more time brewing potions than the second years had spent learning about them, and it paid off. 

While he refused to acknowledge it, Snape had been a good teacher. His methods were rather harsh sometimes, but it got the job done. Harry probably learned more from a few minutes of his teaching than hours at the library. Still, he wasn’t always available, and made it very clear when he felt Harry was wasting his time. He flinched as he remembered that cold gaze on his face, enough to freeze an open flame. 

A smile came to Snape’s face as he looked at Harry. It was a proud smile, like a father looking at his accomplished son. “Potter has learned well.” He said. Unlike you lot of fools, his voice implied. Harry’s smile became more guilty as he saw the other students wilt. He couldn’t blame them, they had been completely destroyed by a four year old child. It couldn’t bode well for confidence. 

But it was some measure of encouragement for Harry, who had suffered nothing but sneers and complaints from Snape from the past few days. He railed at Harry like a landlord after the rent. If he had not brewed enough potions to drown an elephant, Snape's glare may have burned him alive. His debt, despite not increasing, was huge. 

Knowing this, Harry continued brewing as Snape surveyed the class, the process of mixing a healing potion almost second nature to him. He would have loved to experiment, but the prospect of a giant explosion or irreversible transformation was enough to dissuade him. So he focused on his task, keeping an ear out for any tips Snape may have. Most of which he already knew, but it couldn’t hurt. 

He brewed his twentieth potion by the time Snape dismissed the class. “I see that your potion quality has increased, I’ll have to include that in a bid for higher prices.” He commented. 

Harry looked at him. “That isn’t all.” He said. Snape never came to him just to give idle compliments. 

Snape nodded. “It’s time you started brewing your animagus potion.” He said. 

Harry's mouth dropped open. “Now? Professor, I barely know the basics. What if I mess up?” He protested. 

“You have practiced enough to have a reasonable chance of success. I can review the potion after you finish, but the brewing must be done by yourself. The Dark Lord's return looms. If you do not have it soon, you may never be able to.” Snape said. “You must suck on the mandrake’s leaves for a month before using it. You should be ready by then, I will handle the other ingredients.” 

“Is it worth it?” Harry asked. 

“An animagus potion will allow you to transform into any one animal you choose at will, Harry. It is worth several times the cost in mandrake leaves, a fortune in gold already. If you fail you must wait several months, perhaps longer. But if you succeed…” Snape’s eyes became intense. “It alone may save your life dozens of times over.” 

Harry pondered it. “Any animal? Can it be magical? What if I want to be a dragon?” He asked. 

Snape tilted his head. “I see that you have no small ambitions. No, not anything. If you wish to become a magical creature you must have something from them. Blood, hair, flesh, claws or something similar. It must be fresh, and in no small quantity. I would advise that you give up on the idea.” He continued. “However, if you are intent on getting a dragon form you should speak to your mother. There are those within the ministry who may be able to support you.” 

“I’ll write to mom.” Harry decided.