I own Lizzie, Whizzy and Michael. But you already knew that, didn't you?
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Chapter 6 - First Day Classes
Harry rose with a groan as he woke up without an alarm screaming in his ear for the first time in five years. He glanced at the clock, bleary-eyed. It read 5:43. Wow, Harry thought, I slept in. Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, closed his eyes, and began building his Occlumency shields again.
An hour later, Harry got dressed and went down to the common room to see Hermione sitting in a chair, wearing square reading glasses, deeply immersed in her copy of Hogwarts: A History.
"Hi," Harry said. Hermione looked up from her book in surprise.
"Hi," she repeated softly. "What are you doing up so early?" Harry shrugged and sat in a chair next to hers.
"I could ask the same for you." Hermione's lips tugged upwards slightly.
"I've always been an early riser," she said.
"Trying to beat the house-elf to the kitchen," Harry said. Hermione's barely noticeable smirk grew into a grin.
"You're not what I expected," she said. Harry looked at her.
"How so?"
"Stuck-up, arrogant, up to your eyeballs in dark arts," Hermione said, ticking off fingers.
"Wow, you've just described the entire Malfoy line," Harry said, receiving a glare from Hermione.
"I read The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts," Harry said. "The section about me is a load of tripe." Hermione gasped that Harry insulted a book. "They weren't there when Voldemort fell, I was too young to give an interview, and they certainly haven't been keeping tabs on me the past ten years. So how could they possibly know what happened that night, hmm?" Harry cocked an eyebrow at Hermione. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out. Harry glanced down at his watch.
"It's 7:30," he said, "think we should head down to breakfast?"
"Okay." Hermione closed her book and put her glasses in her pocket and together they walked down to the Great Hall. Half an hour later.
They were soon joined by Blaise, then later Michael.
"So how's life with Sirius Black?" Blaise asked, cutting up a waffle.
"Boring, considering that we've only been outside what, once? Twice?" Michael asked.
"Something like that," Harry confirmed. He looked up as Professor McGonnagal started passing out the class schedules.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black," she said as she passed Harry and Michael their schedules. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you after lunch today." As she walked away, Harry sighed.
"Guess we should have seen that coming," he said. He looked at his watch again.
"Come on," Harry said, standing up. "We've got Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs in an hour and a half, and if Dad's stories are any inclination, it'll take us at least an hour to find the classroom." The four of them got up and left to find the Transfiguration classroom.
As Harry predicted, they found the classroom with a mere twenty minutes to spare. The only other occupant in the room was a tabby cat sitting on Professor McGonnagal's desk, its tail flicking idly. After the four of them found their desks, Hermione brought out her book and reading glasses, Harry and Michael started playing Hangman on a spare piece of parchment and Blaise tried to finish her crossword.
Over the next twenty minutes, the class quickly filled up. Soon, the start of the class came, with only two students missing and strangely, Professor McGonnagal.
Five minutes after the start of class, the red-haired boy and a round-faced Hufflepuff ran into the classroom, winded.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, huffing. "Good thing McGonnagal isn't here yet." As if on cue, the cat jumped down and shifted to the strict professor.
"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. Although I must admit that I am tempted to transfigure one of you into a watch. Perhaps then the other can get to class on time."
"We got lost, ma'am," Weasley said weakly.
"A map, then," Professor McGonnagal replied stiffly. After the two had found their desks, she began her lecture. "Transfiguration is one of the most difficult branches of magic there is. It requires a great deal of concentration to achieve even the simplest of tasks. And if I see any of you fooling around in my classroom, I will not hesitate to throw you out of my class permanently." After her rather long lecture on the basics of Transfiguration, she passed out matchsticks to change into needles.
Hermione waved her wand over her matchstick and muttered the incantation, and the piece of wood immediately shifted to a needle, earning Gryffindor five points. Harry waved his wand a few times, to no effect. He closed his eyes, imagined the matchstick turning into a needle in his mind, and waved his wand over the piece of wood, muttering "Mitalis Transfiguro." The wood elongated and turned silver. While it wasn't quite as pointed as Hermione's was, it was still undeniably a needle.
"Five point to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Good work," Professor McGonnagal said, nodding her approval.
At the end of the class, two hours later, only Hermione, Harry, Michael and Blaise had managed to successfully transfigure their matchsticks.
"For homework, take your matchstick and keep practicing," Professor McGonnagal said. "Class dismissed." The students gathered their matchsticks and left the classroom.
"What's our next class?" Blaise asked.
"History of Magic with the Ravenclaws, oh joy," Michael said sarcastically.
"Oh you just say that because you don't like history," Harry said, grinning.
"Why should I care about a bunch of dead people?!" Michael asked. "Besides, did you listen to Dad's stories about that class?"
"I'm sure he's exaggerating just a little bit," Harry said. He was soon proven wrong.
The moment the class bell rang, Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher and only ghost teacher, drifted through the blackboard and immediately started droning on about the Goblin Rebellion of 1136 AD. Professor Binns' voice was flat and monotonous, and within the first fifteen minutes, only two students were left awake: Hermione and Harry. Barely.
The class bell didn't ring soon enough for the students, and everybody quickly ran out of the classroom.
"Okay, so maybe he wasn't exaggerating," Harry said, cringing under Michael's withering glare.
"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"`Wasn't that bad'?" Blaise exclaimed. "You and Harry were the only two awake! And Harry looked like he was hanging on by a thread."
"I saw you beginning to nod off too, Hermione," Harry pointed out.
"I was not!" Hermione shouted indignantly, although the blush on her cheeks said otherwise.
"I've heard mosquitoes more interesting than that old fart," Blaise muttered.
"Our next mode of torture is Potions with the Slytherins," Harry said, checking his schedule. "Guess we should get going; the dungeons are pretty far away." With that, the four started jogging towards the castle dungeons.
They made it with five minutes to spare, and had just enough time to take out their cauldrons and supplies before Professor Snape swooped in like a giant bat, robes billowing behind him. He turned around and stared down all the students. Or, more accurately, all the Gryffindor students.
"You are all here to learn the fine art of potion making. There will be no foolish wand-waving here, so no doubt you will think this class to be a waste of your time. But I don't expect any of you to appreciate the beauty of a cauldron of potion bubbling over a fire, steam wisping perfectly over the surface. What I can hope for is that you will not be the usual set of dunderheads I am forced to teach, though I doubt it." His eyes immediately trained themselves on Harry, who quickly averted his eyes.
"Mister Potter, our...new...celebrity." Professor Snape growled. "What would I get if I mixed together asphodel and infusion of wormwood?"
"A sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry answered flatly. The greasy-haired potion master sneered.
"Where would I find bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir."
"What is difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"Nothing, sir. They are the same plant, also known as aconite." Snape glared at him, sending in a probe of Legilimency into Harry's mind, which was quickly repelled.
"Five points from Gryffindor for cheating, Potter," Snape sneered. Harry was insulted by the unfairness of it all, but he merely contented himself to clenching his fist in anger under the table.
"We are going to make a simple Strengthening Solution. The instructions are on the board. Begin!" Harry looked up and found the list of ingredients on the board. But it was the suspicious lack of instructions on how to mix the ingredients together that infuriated him. Fortunately, he had mixed this particular potion many times before, so Harry just lit a fire and started mixing the ingredients together.
Half an hour later, a loud explosion disrupted the class.
"Longbottom!" Snape shouted. "Did you forget to take the cauldron off of the heat before adding the porcupine quills?" Before the boy could answer, he turned to Harry. "Potter! Thought you could make yourself look good by sabotaging Longbottom's potion, did you? Five points from Gryffindor and detention for you! Take Longbottom to the hospital wing." Scowling, Harry slung Longbottom's arm over his shoulder and carried him to the hospital wing. On his way, Harry stopped by Professor McGonnagal's office, where the third-year class had just ended. Professor looked up from a paper she was grading at Harry.
"How can I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"I would like to file a complaint against Professor Snape," Harry said. This immediately got McGonnagal's attention. While it was public knowledge that no one outside of Slytherin liked Snape, no one had filed a complaint before.
"Oh? On what grounds?"
"Abuse of authority as a member of faculty," Harry said confidently. "At the beginning of class, Professor Snape attacked me with NEWT-level questions, then accused me of cheating when I answered them correctly. Then during a potions accident, he accused me of sabotaging the potion, even though we were on opposite ends of the room. He took fifteen points from Gryffindor and assigned me a detention." McGonnagal frowned at this news.
"Those are some serious accusations. You understand that I will have to verify your claims. Do you know how to extract a memory?"
"No, ma'am," Harry admitted.
"It is quite simple," McGonnagal explained. "Place your wand tip against your temple, concentrate on the memory, then slowly pull out." Nodding in understanding, Harry placed his wand tip against his temple and extracted the memory, the silvery strand dangling from his wand. McGonnagal bent down and produced a pensieve from her desk, and Harry dropped the memory in. Then she leant into it and fell into the memory.
A few minutes later, she reemerged, barely containing her anger.
"Why, the nerve of that man! Sabotage, indeed. While it is suspicious that you would know the answers to such advanced questions, he had no business accusing you of cheating. You will not need to serve your detention, Mr. Potter. And twenty points to Gryffindor for calmly coming to me on this matter."
"Thank you, professor," Harry said.
McGonnagal looked at the clock hanging on the wall and said, "It is almost time for lunch, Mr. Potter, so I suggest you get going." She wrote something on a piece of parchment and gave it to Harry. "Here are the instructions to get to Professor Dumbledore's office. The password is `blood pops'." Cringing in disgust, Harry thanked her again and left for the Great Hall.
When Harry reached the Great Hall, lunch was already in progress, and he found his seat on the Gryffindor table between Michael and Hermione.
"Where were you?" Michael asked, piling mashed potatoes onto his plate.
"I was talking to McGonnagal," Harry said. "I filed a complaint against Snape for abuse of authority."
"Sweet," Michael said. Hermione opened her mouth to scold him, but could think of no excuse for Snape's actions, and kept quiet.
"So what's gonna happen to him?" Blaise asked.
"He should be on probation one to six months, but with Dumbledore, probably a slap on the wrist and a scolding," Harry muttered darkly. Hermione was shocked that Harry could speak of teachers with such disrespect, but kept quiet.
Soon, lunch was over and Harry had to drag Michael off to Dumbledore's office. It took a while, but they eventually found the eagle-shaped statue leading to his office.
"Blood pops," Harry said, grimacing. The statue started rotating upwards to create a spiral staircase, and Harry and Michael jumped on. A few minutes later, they finally reached Dumbledore's office. Harry knocked twice on the wooden door.
"Come in."
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Does anyone besides me find it odd that in the twenty-odd years that he's been teaching, despite people's constant complaints, it seems that not one person has reported Snape's behavior to their head of house?
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