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Harry nodded, taking the relevant ingredient and starting to chop it neatly and quickly.
Phobius glanced over at the two Gryffindors and promptly decided not to comment; Hermione's little eye-roll said more than enough for both of them. Instead he began helping Hermione prepare the ingredients, the two of them working on their potion.

Harry nodded in understanding; he got the impression that Snape wasn't exactly sure what to think about him. It was probably something to do with his father, since the only time he'd ever noticed the man's glare let up even slightly was when he looked him in the eyes - eyes which he had been told repeatedly that he'd gotten from his mother.
Phobius, meanwhile, was the one to bring up his and Hermione's potion, calmly putting it in the appropriate spot on the man's desk before heading to his next class as directed.

"I did sense a large quantity of hatred coming off Professor Snape, though it seemed more aimed in Harry's general vicinity than at Harry himself, and it seemed to diminish over the course of the class," Phobius noted clinically. "Mother mentioned that he and James Potter all but hated each other; apparently Professor Snape has yet to let go of old grudges, and the fact that Harry's practically a carbon copy of his father in terms of appearance probably isn't helping."
Harry nodded in understanding before pausing and blinking. "Wait... what was that about sensing hatred?"
Phobius sighed. "Emotions give off a sort of ambient energy, negative emotions more so. As such, using that energy, I can tell what someone is feeling if I focus; if the emotion is negative enough and intense enough, I don't even have to focus, I'll feel it anyway."
Harry blinked again. "Oh... er, can all wizards learn to do that, or...?"
"I'm only able to do it because of what I am," Phobius answered flatly, indicating he wasn't giving them anything more than that at this time.

Phobius pursed his lips; on the one hand, he wasn't exactly good at the whole "trusting people" thing, wasn't exactly comfortable spreading his true nature around too much, and every last cell of his being was screaming at him not to tell them... but on the other hand, this was Hermione asking, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to give her an outright no... so he compromised
"I... am honestly not that comfortable telling other people about what I am unless absolutely necessary," Phobius answered quietly. "However... since you're a friend, I'll give you a hint: I was conceived from my mother's fear, and my other parent - and I use the term 'parent' very, very loosely - was more than one species of creature at the time of my conception."
With that, he promptly turned and started heading to his next class, clearly considering that particular line of conversation over for the moment.
Harry blinked, completely baffled by that little 'hint', but shrugged it off after a moment, putting it in the back of his mind to think about later as he turned to Hermione. "I wouldn't recommend pushing too much, Mione," he advised. "It sounds like he doesn't really like to talk about it."

"Well, he is dark, mysterious, and brooding - I'm no expert, but from what I gather, a lot of girls like dark, mysterious and brooding boys," Harry reasoned only half-jokingly, following Katherine to their next class: Transfiguration. "It probably helps that he hasn't seemed to catch on just yet - girls find innocent guys cute too, right?" Admittedly, since he didn't have the slightest clue himself what girls liked in a boy, he was only noting what little he'd seen and heard from others' interactions, but he figured he was at least reasonably accurate.
Unknown to Harry, however, Phobius had, in fact, caught on to Hermione's feelings... he just didn't have the slightest clue what to think of it. Normally that wouldn't stop him from gently rejecting her, except that he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, either - there was this little voice in the back of his head telling him to snog her senseless, too. Still, he showed none of his emotional confusion as they went to class, his expression as emotionless as usual.

"I don't have the ability to be an animagus, I'm afraid," Phobius answered calmly as they waited for Madam Hooch. 'Not in the traditional sense, at any rate, and if my and Mother's studies about me are any indication, certainly not before I hit puberty.' "You might want to get some help from Professor McGonagall if you do go through with this, though - from what I understand, learning the transformation unsupervised has the potential to backfire in all sorts of disturbing and gruesome ways."
Harry, on the other hand, glanced over at Hermione. "So... you and Phobius, huh?" he asked innocently, more to pass the time than anything else.

Harry turned bright-red at Hermione's little joke, but calmed down when she said she was just kidding... and then turned bright red again at that last little inquiry. "Well, it's probably not like she feels the same way," Harry mumbled. "I mean, she's brilliant, and I'm just Harry."
"My method would leave you mentally and emotionally scarred," Phobius answered blandly. "It only works for me because I'm only one-third human and have a smaller emotional capacity than a teaspoon." ...Yeah, he was fairly certain wrapping yourself in a cocoon of darkness, emptying your mind of all emotion, and switching to the mindset of a soulless monster was something normal people probably couldn't do, or if they could, would have Very Bad Consequences.

Harry just shrugged, not sure whether to believe that or not, before focusing on the flight instructor's instructions.
"For your second question, I see no problem with that, but I reserve the right to tell McGonagall if you mess it up. Considering your first question, I'm honestly not sure how to handle it now - every time I think about it too hard, I keep getting this weird feeling, like some sort of flying insect has taken up residence in my stomach. It's rather nauseating, and yet something about the feeling makes it so I can't help but enjoy it." Phobius answered dryly before focusing on the flight instructor.
"Everyone step up to the left side of your broomstick. Come on now, hurry up," Madam Hooch was saying, the class obediently following her directions. "Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up'."
Once again, the class obediently followed her directions, with varying degrees of success. Harry's broom immediately jumped up into his hand, as did Malfoy's. Weasley's broom smacked him in the face, and Phobius... well, actually, Phobius's broom seemed to be trying to beat him to death, and Phobius in turn seemed to be strangling it (for lack of a better word) into submission while glaring at it irritably.