This chapter is too long to be all one post... enjoy .

Events came to a head the next day. Harry and Co. (the author notes she is lazy) were in potions, attempting a challenging new experiment - a sleeping potion that didn't taste like rotten cow dung. Harry and Ron's potion was currently pink and smelled like scrambled eggs. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be green and smell like peppermints.

Draco had been released from the infirmary, although he was still jumpy. Anything white caused him to twitch. Mashed potatoes at dinner were nearly a disaster and the mini marshmallows in his hot chocolate caused him to shriek something loud and indistinguishable about being stalked followed by running screaming all the way back to the infirmary. He was now hiding under a bed. At least potions was a Malfoy-free zone.

The three Gryffs paused in their work as the author's nefarious intentions sunk in. If you do not know what nefarious means, your author suggests you spend more time cracking books and less time reading fics like this. Anyway, yes... nefarious intentions sinking in.

"Oh no! Not Potions! Why during potions class!?" Harry hit his fist against the table, causing his potion to splash all over Ron. Ron immediately went to sleep, while his hair grew three feet and turned the Pepto pink of the potion.

The author stuck out her tongue, blew a raspberry, and told them to please ignore the woman behind the curtain. Fortunately, our hero, his lovely companion, and their narcoleptic pal (as well as countless others we can't be bothered to name) got back to their work and the author got back to her hand rubbing and cackling and Snape got back to his glowering and looking like a large bat with a big, greasy head.

The students were working as diligently as possible when a scary man is staring at you when the dungeon door swooped open and hit the opposite wall with a resounding bang.

"What is the meaning of..." Snape trailed off because the doorway was empty. Upon closer look, he realized that there were actually a number of our friendly woolen nemeses (your author checked... plural of nemesis) looking as forbidding as possible across the doorway. Dobby peeked his tomato-like nose around the corner of the frame, hoping to remain unobtrusive. It's hard not to be noticed when you are the only one taller than 6 inches.