Thick of it : reboot

The dimly lit dungeon classroom was filled with the usual mix of bubbling cauldrons, the scent of various potions ingredients lingering in the air—some pleasant, some absolutely vile. The Gryffindor and Slytherin students sat at their stations, waiting for Professor Snape to begin. His cloak billowed ominously as he swept through the room, his piercing gaze making even the bravest students sit a little straighter.

"Today," he began in his signature silky voice, "we will be brewing the Wideye Potion. A rather useful concoction, preventing the drinker from succumbing to sleep. Perhaps some of you should consider drinking it before attending my classes." His eyes flickered towards Ron, who had, on more than one occasion, nodded off during Snape's droning lectures.

Ron stiffened in his seat. James, sitting beside him, had to suppress a smile.

Snape continued, his voice dripping with disdain, "Mr. Weasley, since you seem to struggle with consciousness, perhaps making this potion will be a… learning opportunity for you. You will be paired with Mr. Dawson."

Ron paled. "Mate, help me," he whispered urgently to James. "If I mess up today, he'll have my head."

James . "Just follow my instructions, and we'll both make it out of here alive."

Snape clapped his hands once. "Well? Get to work."

The two boys set to work, James quickly reading the instructions while Ron nervously chopped ingredients.

"Slowly," James instructed as Ron hacked at some dried billywig stings like he was battling a rogue garden gnome. "Not like you're trying to commit a murder. Precise cuts, yeah?"

Ron huffed but tried again, this time with a little more care.

"Good, now add them to the cauldron and stir counter-clockwise. If you stir the wrong way, the potion turns into a rather effective laxative. I'm sure Snape would love that."

Ron's eyes widened in horror, and he very carefully stirred in the correct direction.

As the potion began to take shape, James noticed Ron was about to dump in too much standard ingredient mix. "Stop!" he said quickly, grabbing Ron's wrist before the whole lot could fall in. "For Merlin's sake, do you have any sense of proportion? A pinch, Ron, not the entire contents of your hand."

Ron groaned. "This is why I hate Potions!"

James quipped. "Just keep following my lead, and we'll be fine."

By the end of the class, their potion was… well, functional. It wasn't the best shade of turquoise—perhaps a little cloudier than ideal—but at least it didn't look like something that would melt the cauldron.

Snape loomed over their station, staring into the cauldron with his usual air of disappointment. He inhaled sharply through his nose, then exhaled as if restraining himself from a particularly creative insult.

"Barely acceptable," he finally said, his voice like nails scraping against a chalkboard. His eyes flickered to Ron. "Try not to drag Mr. Dawson into your academic abyss, Weasley. He might actually have some promise."

Ron looked deeply offended but wisely kept his mouth shut. 

"Brilliant, Ron," James whispered as Snape moved on. "We only barely failed instead of spectacularly failing. That's progress!"

Ron groaned, resting his head on the table. "I think I need a Wideye Potion just to survive this class."

James had always found the interactions between Ron and Hermione to be a fascinating study in human behavior—like watching an immovable object clash with an unstoppable force. Hermione, ever the perfectionist, simply couldn't not correct Ron whenever he got something wrong, while Ron, stubborn as a mule, took it as a personal attack every single time.

At this point, it was practically a tradition. Hermione would offer unsolicited advice, Ron would grumble about it, they'd bicker, and somewhere in the middle, Harry and James would exchange glances, silently agreeing that staying out of it was the best course of action.

Today was no different.

"Ron, you're going to mash those beetle eyes, not smash them," Hermione pointed out as they were cleaning up after Potions.

Ron let out a sigh so dramatic it could have won an award. "Hermione, do you have to correct everything I do?"

"I'm just trying to help! You keep making mistakes!"

"Well, maybe I'd make fewer mistakes if you weren't breathing down my neck every two seconds!" Ron huffed.

James watched this exchange with mild amusement. It was like watching an argument in a soap opera, except with more potion ingredients involved.

"Five Sickles says this ends in Hermione storming off," James muttered to Harry.

Harry smirked. "Not taking that bet. It's a sure thing."

Sure enough, Hermione huffed, picked up her bag, and marched off in a swirl of robes, leaving Ron looking exasperated. James patted him on the back.

"Chin up, mate. At least she didn't write you a two-foot-long essay on how to properly mash beetle eyes."

Ron groaned. "I swear, if she ever does that, I'm quitting school."

James snorted. "Right, because you need an excuse to avoid studying."

With Potions behind them, the group made their way to Charms, where Professor Flitwick was already preparing for the lesson. The tiny professor stood atop his stack of books, peering over the classroom like an eager child trying to see over a counter.

"One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly!" Flitwick announced enthusiastically. "Do you all have your feathers?"

James watched as Hermione shot her hand into the air like an eager quiz champion, while Ron merely poked at his feather as though expecting it to come to life on its own.

"Good! Now, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practising. Hmm? The swish and flick. Everyone!"

The class chanted, "The swish and flick."

James copied the movement, making sure to get it just right.

"Oh, and enunciate!" Flitwick added. "Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go, then!"

The classroom was immediately filled with muttered incantations, confused grunts, and the occasional thud as people waved their wands wildly.

Draco, as expected, couldn't help but make a show of himself. "Wingardium Levio-saaa."

James rolled his eyes. 

Meanwhile, Ron was having about as much luck as a flobberworm trying to do gymnastics. "Wingardium Leviosar!" he exclaimed, waving his wand around like he was conducting an invisible orchestra.

Hermione, who had been side-eyeing Ron's attempts with increasing irritation, finally snapped. "No, stop, stop, stop! You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Levi-o-sa, not Leviosar."

Ron scowled. "Oh, you do it then, if you're so clever. Go on, go on."

With the precision of someone who had been waiting for this moment, Hermione straightened up, flicked her wand just so, and spoke clearly. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The feather glowed softly before rising into the air as if it weighed nothing.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, well done! See here, everyone, Miss Granger's done it! Splendid!"

Ron let his head fall onto his desk with a loud thud, groaning into his arms.

James smirked but returned his attention to his own feather. Alright, let's see… He gave a smooth swish and flick, focusing on the feather. "Wingardium Leviosa."

Sure enough, the feather rose steadily. James grinned, satisfied.

A loud BOOM from across the room made everyone jump. James turned just in time to see Seamus Finnigan covered in soot, his feather reduced to a small pile of smoldering ashes.

Professor Flitwick let out a startled, "Whooaaa! Ooh!"

"I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor," Harry remarked dryly.

Seamus coughed out a small puff of smoke. "I swear, I did everything right this time…"

As the class wrapped up, James helped Harry get his feather levitating, and soon enough, the lesson was over. The group made their way through the courtyard, the afternoon air cool against their faces.

Ron, still fuming from Hermione's correction, was in full dramatic mode. "'It's Levioooosa, not Leviosaaaar,'" he mimicked in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. "She's a nightmare, honestly. No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

Before James could say anything, Hermione brushed past them, her arms clutching her books tightly against her chest.

She was sniffling.

James's smirk faded instantly.

Harry nudged Ron. "I think she heard you."

Ron turned, his face falling as he watched Hermione disappear into the crowd. James sighed, shaking his head.

"Brilliant, Ron," he muttered. "You made the girl cry. ."

Ron looked guilty, but James wasn't sure if it was enough for him to apologise. 

Ron looked at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the stone path as if trying to grind away his own guilt. "I didn't mean it like that…" he muttered, but there wasn't much conviction behind it.

James sighed. "Yeah, well, intent doesn't matter much when you've just gone and made her cry, does it?"

Harry gave Ron a pointed look before glancing in the direction Hermione had disappeared. "Maybe you should apologise."

Ron's ears went a bit pink. "Apologise? Are you mad? She'll just go on about how I'm an insufferable git, and then I'll have to listen to a lecture on why words matter, and I'm already traumatised from Potions today."

James snorted. "Oh, yeah, mate, a heartfelt apology sounds way worse than another year of Snape breathing down your neck."

Ron groaned dramatically. "I'll do it later. When she's not lookin' at me like she's about to turn me into a flobberworm."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And when exactly would that be?"

Ron hesitated. "Er… never?"

James rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. Just brilliant, Ron. You have all the emotional intelligence of a troll with a head injury."

Ron scowled. "Oi, that's uncalled for."

"Is it?" James shot back. "You basically called her an unbearable know-it-all in front of half the class. And let's be honest, mate, she only corrects you constantly because you're constantly wrong."

Ron grumbled something about "bloody perfectionists" under his breath .