"But sir…"
Harry really needed a painkiller now. Glancing at and noting the way in which Snape was looking at the board with barely disguised boredom, Harry knew that at least Snape would get it right. For once in his life, he was grateful for the snarky future potions master. Deciding that he needed to nip this in the bud before it became worse, he stood and picked up the fourth-year textbook, preparing to mount the first defense of his teaching methods.
"Seeing that I am new to this class, and I have no idea where Professor Slughorn left off, I feel that I need to evaluate the skills of you and your classmates before making a decision about what to teach next. According to your textbook, this potion is perfectly acceptable for your grade and level."
"But we didn't-,"
" Miss Evans," Harry said slowly, desperately trying to hide from her the effort it took to hide how nervous he was. "While I appreciate your attempts to help, I would much prefer it if you got started. Now."
The remainder of the class passed in relative silence, though Harry did notice that Snape seemed to be looking at him with far less disdain than he had when he had first walked into the room. Now that's a scary thought, Harry mused, me, being Snape's role model. Ten minutes before class was scheduled to end, the last of the students had placed their finished potion on his desk, and Harry decided to dismiss the class early. He was rewarded with a brief cheer from the class and, as they left, got the feeling that they didn't hate him.
Thankful for small victories, he tried to figure out how he was supposed to grade the two dozen potions that were left on his desk. Holding each of them up against the light, he soon realized there was going to be a huge issue with that, since all of them were a different color and consistency. Feeling like banging his head against a brick wall, Harry opted to drop his head into his arms, instead.
"How the in Merlin's name am I to grade these?" Harry wondered out loud. He knew only the appropriate color for the finished product, not having really examined or used samples of the potion in his time.
Snape, he thought suddenly. He must've gotten it right . Searching through the flasks until he found the correct one, he held it up to the light and let out a relieved sigh when it was the appropriate color. Recalling that Dumbledore had once told him his mother was brilliant at potions, he found hers too, and smiled in relief when it matched both Snape's and his understanding of what the potion ought to look like. He now had two samples to grade against.
What are the odds I can do this for all other potions I'm going to go over? He idly wondered. Odds were, in fact, good that he could do this. After all, both Snape and his mother couldn't both be wrong at the same time. With that thought in mind, he set the samples aside and began prepare for the next class.
By the time they arrived, Harry was in a much better mood than he had been earlier that morning. His introduction went over without pithy remarks or questioning looks from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He gave them the same potion to work on as he had the previous class, expecting another argument, but he was pleasantly surprised when the students shrugged, accepted his explanation that he needed to gauge their level, and went to work without complaint. By the end of the class, he had a dozen more samples that looked like the ones made by Snape and Lily, and he was confident that he could use them to effectively grade both classes.
He was in high spirits upon arriving in the Great Hall for lunch and was looking forward to his next class. If things keep going like this, this is going to be a walk in the park, Harry thought. He went through lunch in a good mood until he realized that his next class was NEWT Potions for the sixth-years. Harry began to wish that Snape was in one of those classes, because then he would at least have one person whom he was reasonably certain would get the assignments right.
Thinking of putting Snape in an advanced class gave Harry an idea. Working a few things out and scribbling a handful of notes on a napkin, Harry leaned back and enjoyed the rest of his lunch break..
When he returned to his classroom, he found, to his surprise, that Bellatrix was already there. "Aren't you a little early for class?" he asked.
"For class, yes," she replied. "However, I wanted to talk to you before, to make sure you know what you're doing. If you screw up, that makes our situation tougher."
" Our, eh?" Harry commented, amazed at the amount of sarcasm he managed to hold back.
Bellatrix ignored Harry's tone and continued. "I've interviewed a number of students you taught this morning - subtly, of course. It seems you're doing a fairly good job. Most of them like you. Surprisingly, I even heard good things from some of the Slytherins about you. The only down side is that a few of them seem to think that you're a little bit dim."
"Dim?" Harry muttered under his breath.
"That's perfectly all right," Bellatrix commented casually. "Lots of famous and powerful people have been dim. Sometimes it was even an advantage."
"That they think I'm dim?" Harry grumbled. "I thought I was trying to be nice."
Bellatrix shrugged. "Anyway, I was going to say that that's not necessarily a bad thing. If you appear nice and simple, perhaps a little dim, no one is going to think you're a threat to them."
Harry muttered something intelligible. He didn't like the idea of establishing a reputation of stupidity. "It doesn't help me if everyone thinks I'm utterly incompetent."
"Of course," Bellatrix agreed, "we'll have to prevent that. We don't need you appearing like an idiot in front of my family."
"Your family?" Harry glanced at her oddly.
....
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