A/N: 9/2/1991 was in fact a Monday. Fancy that? This chapter ended up much longer than I'd planned. Oh well.
Chapter Six
Fall Term 1991
I woke up, according to the clock above the door to my dormitory, at 7:40 in the morning on September 2, 1991. This was a Monday unlike all others, however; I was in an unfamiliar place-a magical place-and I honestly had no idea what classes were going to be like. That was a new experience for me because I had always been prepared (some would say over-prepared) well in advance at my old school, but here at Hogwarts I had not been given that opportunity. Sure, I had read the books, but how much would they help without any practical experience?
I yawned and pushed the bedspread down. As I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, I noticed that no one else in the dorm had woken yet. It was no surprise, though, because the beds were very comfortable. I remembered Percy telling us all to be in the Great Hall by 8:30 for breakfast, so I did not mind waking up just a tad earlier than I had to.
I breathed deeply and ran my fingers slowly through my hair, drawing out some of the tangles a night of deep sleep caused. After a minute of two of this treatment, I was ready to leave the warm comfort of my four-poster; I quickly gathered my bathroom necessities-except I realized I did not have a towel. I entered the bathroom and saw that fluffy white towels had been provided sometime during the night, so I shrugged and undressed.
Simply put, the showers at Hogwarts are exquisite. It must have been magic, because I had not experienced anything like it at home or in any hotel, but the shower head rotated and dived and turned in ways that should have been impossible. The water was also the perfect temperature; not too hot but warm enough to bathe the entire room in steam in only a few minutes. After a leisurely fifteen minutes, I turned off the water and dried myself off, and then attended to my other morning needs. When I left the bathroom, freshly dressed in a complete Hogwarts uniform, it was 8:05. The other girls only had 25 minutes to get to the Great Hall, and all of them were still asleep.
"Lavender," I called out, gently, coming near to her bed. I poked my head through her hangings and saw that she was curled into a ball, still asleep. I reached out and shook her lightly. Her eyelids fluttered open.
"Huh?" she mouthed, sleepily.
"It's just past eight o'clock," I said. "You and the other girls should probably get up…"
Her eyes focused and she rolled toward me. She looked me up and down, perhaps seeing that I was already dressed.
"When did you get up?"
"Half hour ago," I told her, and she nodded, rubbing her eyes.
"Alright, I'm up," she said, and I backed out of her hangings. I woke up Parvati, Lily, and Sally much the same way; only Parvati seemed unhappy that I'd disturbed her rest.
"Thanks," Sally said, as I turned from her bed. I looked over my shoulder at her and smiled.
"No problem," I returned, and then headed for my own bed. I realized that I had no idea what my Monday classes were yet, so I just picked up a notebook, put it in my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. I made sure I had my wand and headed for the exit.
"I'll meet you girls in the Great Hall," I called, and left, descending to the Gryffindor common room. It was very empty, except for Nearly Headless Nick. He was lounging by the fire, reading some book. I couldn't remember the way back to the Great Hall very clearly, so I approached the affable ghost. He looked up when I came near.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning," I nodded. "Could you tell me how to get to the Great Hall?"
"Ah, you're one of the new first years," he surmised. "What's your name?"
"Hermione Granger," I responded, holding out my hand. He looked at it for a moment, seemingly amused, and then we shook hands as best as a human and a ghost could. I did not tell him that his hand felt like ice.
"Pleased to meet you, young lady," he said, and then gave me concise directions on how to find the Great Hall. The bit about certain staircases leading to different places on Fridays was a mystery to me-why would the Professors purposely try to confuse new students?-but I figured I would encounter more such strangeness as the days passed.
I left the common room and descended through the castle along the route Nick had provided, and in no time at all I was at the top of the marble staircase leading down into the entrance hall. I had passed one or two other students on my journey through the school, but here I finally saw groups of them, standing in the entrance hall, possibly waiting for someone, and going into the Great Hall for breakfast. Most of them looked older than my fellow first years.
I could smell breakfast, and just then my stomach grumbled noisily, even after the large meal the night before, so I hurried down the steps, across the entrance hall, and into the Great Hall. The Gryffindor table, on the right, was at only one-quarter capacity. It seemed the rest of the students had not made it out bed yet, even though the several large clocks said it was 8:15.
I slowed as I neared the table, trying to find a recognizable face, and for a moment I did not think any other first years were there yet. I saw Percy at the far end, near the head table, but he was deep in conversation with several other students, so I did not want to bother him. I scanned up and down the table, and finally stopped on a head of shaggy black hair. The owner was eating slowly and quietly. He had a book open next to his plate. As I rounded the table, I saw that it was Harry Potter. I at least recognized him and had said a few words to him, so I decided to sit across from him.
As I slid onto the bench, I said, "Morning Harry. What are you reading?"
He looked up with some surprise on his face, but it soon relaxed. "Hermione, was it?" I nodded, glad that he had remembered. He looked down at the book for a moment, and then flipped it closed and around so I could read the cover: it was Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling.
"I've already read through it once," he explained, "but this seems like the most general book we were assigned, so I thought looking through it another time wouldn't hurt."
He stared at the upside-down cover, from his point of view, for just a moment, and then raised his eyes to meet mine. This close, I could see they really were the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. They were almost unnatural, but they had a strange beauty too, vividness I'd not encountered before.
Those thoughts passed in the space of two or three seconds, and then I blinked and smiled at him. "No, I don't think it would," I agreed. "I've read through the book, and you're right about it being almost like an overview… It helped me understand enough to read the other books for this year." I decided against telling him I'd read second and third years' books, although I wasn't sure why. It just didn't seem the right thing to say.
He turned the book back around but did not reopen it. "You going to eat anything?" he asked, motioning to the platters of breakfast foods.
"Yes, I'm starving," I told him, and loaded my plate. I ate well at home, but the pure selection here at Hogwarts amazed me. I wondered if magic somehow had a hand in easing meal preparations, or if in the kitchens it took hours and hours of work to prepare our meals…
For the next fifteen minutes, Harry and I continued to chat about what we'd read over the summer and how we thought classes were going to be. He was quiet and seemed to measure his responses, and they were thoughtful and articulate, more so than I had expected (though on what I had based that expectation, I did not know). Perhaps the person I'd seen asking the question about the Houses the previous night was more than just mere celebrity.
As 8:30 came upon us, the Great Hall filled quickly, and the other first years we'd met the day before filled in around us. Ron and Parvati were the last two to join us, at 8:34, one right after the other, and the next half hour passed rather quickly as we all got to know each other better. Up at the head table, teachers and the Headmaster trickled in, and by nine o'clock, the Hall was at full capacity.
My conversation was mostly with Harry, Sally, and Neville, but others joined in at certain points, such as when I revealed I was a Muggleborn. Harry said something confusing just then:
"I'm as good as one."
"What?" I asked him.
"Oh," he said, looking at me a little sheepishly. I guess no one was supposed to have heard that. "Nothing, just that I was raised by Muggles, even though my parents were both magical."
I nodded, not wanting to bring up the death of his parents, which I had read about in the same book that spoke of his defeat of the bad wizard. He was very unassuming, and seemed down to earth, so I couldn't even imagine the circumstances of his battle with another wizard as a baby. It was much too far-fetched for me.
Soon after that, there was a great rustling noise, as if the wind had suddenly picked up and was blowing about the eaves of the Great Hall, and our attention was directed toward the joint between the wall and the ceiling behind the head table. As we watched, and made noises of surprise and delight, hundreds of owls streamed into the hall with envelopes attached to their legs. One stopped in front of every student; a beautiful, pure white owl gave Harry his envelop. He rubbed the bird's feathers affectionately, and then as one, they all took off and left as they had come.
"Those are your time tables," Percy called down the table at us. "For your classes." So I was finally going to see my class schedule for the term-I ripped into the envelope and pulled out the single piece of parchment within.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Deputy Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
Class Schedule Fall Term, 1991; Miss Hermione Granger
Monday
10:00 - 10:50 : Defense Against the Dark Arts (Quirrell - Hufflepuff)
11:00 - 11:50 : Defense Against the Dark Arts (Quirrell - Hufflepuff)
12:00 - 12:50 : Lunch Period
01:00 - 01:50 : Herbology (Sprout - Ravenclaw)
Tuesday
10:00 - 10:50 : Charms (Flitwick - Hufflepuff)
11:00 - 11:50 : Charms (Flitwick - Hufflepuff)
Wednesday
10:00 - 10:50 : History of Magic (Binns - Ravenclaw)
11:00 - 11:50 : History of Magic (Binns - Ravenclaw)
12:00 - 12:50 : Lunch Period
01:00 - 01:50 : Herbology (Sprout - Ravenclaw)
12:00 am - 12:50 am : Astronomy (Sinistra)
01:00 am - 01:50 am : Astronomy (Sinistra)
Thursday
11:00 - 11:50 : Herbology (Sprout - Ravenclaw)
12:00 - 12:50 : Lunch Period
01:00 - 01:50 : Transfiguration (McGonagall - Hufflepuff)
02:00 - 02:50 : Transfiguration (McGonagall - Hufflepuff)
Friday
10:00 - 10:50 : Potions (Snape - Slytherin)
11:00 - 11:50 : Potions (Snape - Slytherin)
All students are reminded to seek out their specified instructors for room assignments. Have a good term.
It took me thirty seconds of intense study to decipher the rather compact and dense time table, but eventually I understood that all of our classes were with another house, except Astronomy. It also occurred to me that Herbology was the only class we did not have two periods in a row, and that we had Astronomy very late every Wednesday.
After comparing my schedule with other first years around me, I saw that all Gryffindor first years had classes together. Since we all had the same schedule, Dean and Seamus volunteered to get the room assignments, and we waited patiently as they asked each professor at the head table for the information. When they came back, they both had sour looks on their faces.
"What is it?" Ron Weasley asked them, as they sat down.
"Professor Snape could have been nicer," Dean grumbled, and then pushed his timetable to the center of the table so we could all see the room assignments.
"What'd he say?" Lily asked, copying down the rooms like the rest of us.
"He just sneered at Seamus and I for awhile, and then snarled the number of the room. I think it's in the dungeons," Dean told us, and Ron was nodding.
"My brothers, Fred and George"-those must have been the twins-"have been telling me for two years now that Snape is the worst teacher in the school."
Harry was looking at his timetable, and he said, "Well, at least we don't have Potions until Friday."
Ron glanced at his. "Yeah, but it's with Slytherin."
"Oh, I'm sure they're not all bad," I put in; Ron looked sharply at me, but said nothing.
The first class of the week was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell and the Hufflepuff first years, and as we all headed for this classroom as a group, there was some excitement over exactly what the class would entail. The book, which Harry and I had read along with a few others by what they were saying, detailed some basic offensive and defensive spells. For a Muggleborn like me, this was the stuff of fantasy-wielding a wand and shooting spells at someone.
But that Monday morning we were all disappointed with Quirrell's class; he turned out to be a timid man, stuttering almost every other word, which hindered our comprehension and his teaching. His classroom also smelled very strongly of garlic-"To ward off vampires," Quirrell said-which was very distracting, and even he smelled quite funny. Some said the smell came from the huge fuscia turban he wore around his head, but no one was sure. All in all, the first two hours of Defense Against the Dark Arts passed uneventfully, and I was disappointed that the course was not very rigorous.
"Seems rather useless," I commented, as we were leaving the class. "He didn't even assign us work."
Most people ignored me, but Ron piped up. "Why would you want work?" he asked. "I'm glad we don't have any."
I just looked at him for a moment. I was starting to dislike Ron, just a little bit. "How are we supposed to get better if don't work at it?"
"I dunno, but I'm not barmy enough to want to do homework," he said, and then rushed to catch up with the other students. I was left standing there, quite alone, as they all headed toward the Great Hall for lunch. I took a deep breath and clenched my fists, and then followed them.
After lunch we had fifty minutes of Herbology with Ravenclaw, and we had to exit the castle and make our way to the greenhouses. There, a short, plump, very dirty Professor Sprout greeted us cheerily and set us working almost immediately. We were working on transplanting asphodel plants: between pots, we were supposed to clip two dangling roots and place them in a tray in the center of the table, to be powdered later on.
It was interesting work, at least, but I wondered whether or not theory would be an important part of the class. If this was all we were going to do, transplanting or other various practical activities, it seemed like we were doing work, instead of learning. I had no problem with class work or homework, in fact I loved them both, but work just for the sake of work when we could have been learning about asphodel and what the root was used for didn't sit well.
In any case, Herbology was over quickly, and we had the rest of the day free. Since no homework had been assigned, all of us had the rest of the afternoon to do as we pleased, so I took my Charms book down to the Gryffindor common room and snuggled into one of the armchairs. Students drifted in and out of the room for the next several hours, and eventually it was time for dinner. Someone asked me what I had done all afternoon, and when I told them I had been reading my Charms text, there were surprised looks and even a few sniggers. Ron made another snide comment about doing work when I didn't have to, but I did my best to ignore what he said. Only Harry, Neville, and Sally seemed accepting of what I had done, though none of them came to my defense.
After dinner I read for awhile longer and then turned in. As I lay awake in my bed, I heard some of my dorm mates come in and get ready for bed as well, but I did not say goodnight to them. I'd been at the castle two days and, already, I felt like an outsider. It was too early to tell still, but I hoped by the end of the week I would somehow have a solid friend or two. With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
I was the first one up Tuesday as well, and again Harry was the only first year in the Great Hall when I arrived around 8:10. He had his Charms text with him this morning, and was slowly turning pages as I sat down across from him. He looked up at me and smiled, and then asked how my night had been.
"Alright, I guess. I went to bed early."
"How come?" he wondered, putting his book aside.
"Wasn't feeling well, I suppose."
"Sorry to hear it. Better now?" he asked, and he seemed genuinely curious, instead of the rote platitudes one usually received in return.
"I think so," I said. "Thanks for asking." It was odd to have concern expressed my way by another child.
"Mm hmm," he intoned. "How do you like the classes so far?"
"Well…" I started, and then trailed off. If I said how I really felt about them, would he make the same rude comments Ron had?
"I wish we had gotten some work, honestly," I confided, and he actually nodded again. "Quirrell seems a little off, and we didn't actually talk about what we did in Herbology."
"I noticed that too, Hermione. I was reading our Potions book the other day and it was talking about all the uses of the root of asphodel, but we didn't talk about any of that in Herbology."
"Yeah…" I agreed, impressed that he had remembered that detail from the Potions book. Harry wasn't overtly studious, as far as I could tell, but he certainly seemed to be on top of things. As we continued our discussion, more students trickled in, and eventually it was time for Charms with Hufflepuff.
Professor Flitwick was a very diminutive man, only three feet tall, and he had to stand on his desk to teach the class. He took roll, and when he arrived at Harry's name, he gave an excited little squeak and almost tumbled forward onto the floor. If it hadn't been for Zacharias Smith, who had caught him from the front row, Flitwick would have had a nasty bump on his head.
Charms was finally a class where we actually learned; Flitwick was incredibly knowledgeable about the theory behind the various spells he taught us, and we practiced them as well. On that first Tuesday, we mostly reviewed what we would be doing the rest of the year, and he took us through the text book, pointing out what we should read and know, and what we could gloss over if we wanted to.
Flitwick assigned the questions at the end of the first chapter of the text for the next class, so that very afternoon, when everyone else was outside enjoying the nice fall weather, I completed them as thoroughly as I thought was necessary. I knew we didn't have Charms again until the next Tuesday, but I always got my work done as soon as I could.
Around four o'clock, I drifted down to the front entrance, and I saw many of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw first years playing some form of tag on the lawns. Where the Slytherin students were, I did not know.
One student sat alone on the wide marble steps of the castle, and from behind I recognized her as my dorm mate, Sally-Anne Perks. She had her legs drawn up and her chin on her knees, and she was watching the large game intently. I sat down beside her, drawing my legs up in a similar fashion.
"How come you're not playing with them, Sally?" I asked.
"I could ask the same of you," she pointed out.
"Yes," I conceded. "I just finished up our Charms homework, though."
"Already?" she queried, though there was no derision in her voice. "I was thinking about doing it, but it's such a nice day out…" her voice faded. We watched the other kids run around, listening to their screams and shouts of delight.
"So why aren't you out there with them?" I asked again. She turned her head toward me, and I did the same. We looked into each others' eyes for several seconds, and then she turned back toward the game.
"Let's just say tag isn't my favorite game," she eventually said, and I knew well enough to drop the subject.
I was getting hot, so I leaned back and loosened my robe; the steps were quite warm and I could easily doze off out here in the sun. Sally glanced over at me, and then smiled, laughing slightly.
"What?"
"You look like you're ready for the beach," she pointed out, and I laughingly agreed with her.
"We kind of have a beach here," I said, motioning toward the lake.
"Kind of."
"So what do you think so far?" I asked.
She was quiet for quite awhile, so long in fact I wasn't sure if she'd heard me, and then she turned her face toward the sun. It glinted off her brown hair. "I miss home," she said, almost a whisper.
Something in her voice made me sit up and move closer to her, some note of despair or remorse that seemed out of place.
"So do I," I told her, though truthfully I had been too busy the past few days to think too much of home. I wanted to write a letter to my parents soon, but that would probably have to wait until the weekend.
"My parents," she started slowly, still looking away from me, "they weren't very supportive of my decision to come to Hogwarts…" From the trembling in her voice, I knew she was crying now, and I slowly put an arm around her shoulders and leaned into her. She tensed up for a second, and then leaned back into me.
"But this wasn't an opportunity I could pass up," she sniffed.
"I know, Sally. My parents were very skeptical at first, but when they saw how badly I wanted this, they came around. I'm sure yours will too, eventually."
"I hope so," she said, and I let go of her; our bodies slowly lost contact. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and laughed hollowly. "You must think I'm stupid."
"No, not at all," I assured her. And I didn't. This was a huge adjustment for an eleven year old, and though I may have appeared stoic to other students, I was just as frightened and worried as them. Honestly, I was surprised at the lack of guidance we had received so far. It seemed as if the staff wanted to see how well we would adjust with as little help as possible.
"Thanks, Hermione," she said, turning and smiling at me. I nodded, and we both turned back to watch the game.
The rest of Tuesday passed quickly, and our busiest day of classes dawned just as sunny as the others. Once again, I met Harry in the Great Hall for breakfast, and we chatted some more about the day's classes. He was easy to talk to, but for some reason he remained aloof, and it wasn't just from me. No one else besides Ron, who had appeared to take a disliking toward me, talked to him regularly.
Our first class, History of Magic, was an exercise in staying awake. Binns, the professor, was actually a ghost-for all we knew, he may have been alive during the battles he described when William the Conqueror had landed in Britain. I would have never admitted it to anyone at the time, but I wanted to sleep during Binns' lectures just as much as those whom sleep actually took, but I was too worried about the quality of my notes to let that happen. After History finally ended and lunch was over, we headed to the greenhouses for another session of Herbology, during which we crushed and powdered the roots we had clipped the last class.
Again, Sprout talked to us very little for the entire fifty minutes, and what she did say was not relevant to the uses of crushed root of asphodel or why we were doing that. I had a feeling that I would become very frustrated with the class if it continued in the same way. That afternoon I completed the few questions Binns had assigned us, and then read up on some Astronomy for the class that night.
It was quite the wait-I had only seen midnight on New Year's and a few other times before coming to Hogwarts-but eventually we all left the Gryffindor common room, some of us quite obviously very tired. We met atop the highest tower, appropriately named the Astronomy Tower, for the class, and Sinistra was waiting for us when we arrived. She was an intense-looking middle-aged woman with long and thick dark hair, and eyes that were almost violet. She directed us to set up our telescopes and we were immediately tasked with finding a constellation.
Most found either the Big or Little Dipper, but I knew Orion, so I pointed that one out. All ten of us, since only we Gryffindors had Astronomy on Wednesday nights, were successful in finding one. Ron took the longest, but eventually even he spotted on.
After that, Sinistra lectured us on why constellations were important-for travel, and for knowing the time of year and season, and also for certain potions-and then on what else we would be doing for the rest of the year. At 1:50, ten very tired first years dragged themselves back down through the castle to the seventh floor where the Gryffindor tower was.
"G'night," I bade everyone sleepily, heading for the dormitory stairs.
"Night," someone said, though it was half-hearted. I was asleep within three minutes of lying down.
Thursday saw another Herbology class, during which we carefully mixed the powdered root with wormwood. After letting the mixture sit for 15 minutes-it started to smell positively foul-we stored them in ceramic containers. It was then that Professor Sprout finally had us take out notebooks and lectured us on what we had been doing all week. She even assigned us some reading.
After lunch, we had Transfiguration, and this was the class I was most nervous about. Everything I had read in the course book made the class sound extremely complicated, and McGonagall's first words to us did not help.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Any student disrupting my class will leave, permanently. You have been warned." We had Transfiguration with Hufflepuff, and many of them seemed quite intimidated by McGonagall. I was finally glad we had a real teacher, one that did not tolerate any misbehaving, and one that apparently really knew her stuff, because the first thing she did was change her desk into a live pig and back again.
"You will not be attempting something like that for a long time. What we are doing today is attempting to turn a match into a needle. First things first, though: wands away and quills out."
We then proceeded to take three pages of complicated, step-by-step instructions on how to turn the matchstick into a needle, which I can now simplify into three steps. 1. Speak the incantation cuspis. 2. Roll your wand with your thumb and index finger a half-turn to the left as you say the spell. 3. Visualize the match turning into a needle, down to the very last detail.
After the note taking, the rest of the class was devoted to trying to transfigure the match into the desired needle. Toward the end of the period, no one had gotten it yet, but I thought I might have seen the match start to glimmer in the light. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on the image of a needle as hard as I could for almost a full minute, and then opened them and did the spell. And before my very eyes the match morphed into a shiny needle.
I think I must have squeaked in my excitement, because students near me looked at me peculiarly, but I raised my hand vehemently without care. To my left, and to my surprise, Harry Potter had also raised his hand.
"Yes?" McGonagall asked, coming over and standing between us. "What is it, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger?"
"I have a needle, Professor," I said, pointing toward the sharp object on my desk. I could barely contain my excitement at having successfully cast a spell. It was my first!
"Oh, excellent!" she exclaimed, breaking her stoic demeanor for a moment and picking up the needle. "And you, Potter?"
"I have one, too," he said, though there was very little of the excitement in his voice I knew had been in mine. I detected some pride, though.
"Wonderful," she said. "Excellent work, you two." She then turned around and held up the needles to the class. "Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger have successfully turned their matches into needles, and hence Gryffindor earns two house points. For homework, the rest of you will practice this spell. I expect you all to be able to properly perform this transfiguration by next class."
"How'd you do that?" I heard Ron mutter, and I looked over in time to see Harry shrug. Ron looked at him strangely for a moment.
"Just concentrate harder," I said, and Ron pursed his lips at me.
"I was concentrating as hard as I could, thanks," he said, and then turned away from me. I huffed and turn toward Neville, asking with my eyes what I had done to offend Ron, but he didn't know and shrugged. Harry left with Ron, so I didn't have a chance to congratulate him on his shared success; in fact, I didn't see either of them for the rest of the day, which was just as well with Ron, but I did want to talk to Harry. Because he was the only other one to complete the spell correctly, I assumed he was a kindred spirit, academically. But it would have to wait until the next day…
Friday finally arrived, and I entered the Great Hall, seeing the now-familiar sight of Harry sitting alone with a book open. I joined him and finally was able to compliment him on his needle, and he nodded and thanked me. We chatted about how Potions might be as other students came in and until the mail arrived. There had been far fewer owls every day since the first, and today Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, was one of the few to make an appearance.
She flew down and he detached the letter from her foot, and after she had a piece of bacon, she waited patiently by Harry's plate. He looked at the letter, and Ron read it over his shoulder. He looked up and met my curious gaze for a moment before turning to Ron.
"Can I borrow your quill?" he asked, and Ron gave it to him.
"Are you going?" Ron asked.
"Sure," Harry said, and scribbled something on the back of the parchment. After reattaching it to Hedwig and stroking her plumage for a moment, she spread her wings and was gone. I wondered where he was going, but I did not want to pry, so I didn't ask. He didn't provide details, either.
After breakfast, the ten of us slowly made our way down into the dungeons, where we hadn't been before, trailing far behind the Slytherin first years as they trekked to Potions as well. This part of Hogwarts was cold, dark, and damp, and the Potions classroom itself was quite inhospitable. If it hadn't been for the fires burning lowly under the cauldrons, we would have been able to see our breath.
Professor Snape, the pale greasy-haired man I'd seen at the head table, swept in with his black cloak trailing behind him at ten o'clock sharp. He ignored all of us as he went to his desk and picked up a parchment. Then, suddenly:
"Lavender Brown!"
"W-what?" she asked, startled.
Snape regarded her for a moment, and then said in a very soft but menacing voice, "This is roll call, Ms. Brown. A simple, `Present!' will suffice."
"…present."
"Very good. I knew you could do it. Millicent Bulstrode!"
"Present."
And it went on from there. Snape immediately struck me as a very unpleasant man, whose bad side I wanted to avoid as much as possible. He paused in the P's, and then searched the class with his black eyes. They settled on Harry.
"Ah, yes," he said, very silkily. "Harry Potter. Our new-celebrity." Harry did not react noticeably to this, nor to the quiet laughter of Malfoy and a few other Slytherin whose names I could not remember. He just stared at Snape, as if he expected the professor to say something else. Something was clearly going on between them, and it almost looked as if neither knew exactly what to make of the other.
Snape continued roll and put the parchment back on his desk when he'd finished. He clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed us.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, and began pacing. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you are not as big a bunch of imbeciles as I usually have to teach."
It took all of my willpower to repress the snort of mirth that threatened to escape through my nose, because the adjectives he'd used to describe potion-making and the love with which his voice caressed the speech reminded me of one my mother's trashy romance novels that I'd read.
"Potter!" he quite suddenly barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Stunned silence hung in the air for just a moment, and as I raised my hand to provide the answer, Harry spoke: "Draught of Living Death, sir."
Snape looked as if he had been about to rip into Harry, but he closed his mouth quickly after the right answer had been provided. Besides the fact that we had just covered this in Herbology, Harry had read through the Potions text, and would have known the answer anyway. Most other Gryffindors (besides maybe Ron) probably knew the answer as well.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar, then?" Snape asked, looking directly at Harry. This assault on Harry was odd…it seemed as if Snape had some personal grudge against Harry to be attacking him like this. As for the question, the answer was in the General Introduction to our Potions text, so I had no illusion that Harry would know this as well, but I raised my hand anyway.
"The stomach of a goat, sir."
And again, Snape looked ready to criticize Harry, but stopped when the correct answer sounded around the room in Harry's quietly determined voice. No one was laughing now. Many people just looked very confused.
"Ok then, Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
With a sinking sensation, I realized that Harry probably would not know this answer, because it was covered in the second year Potions text. I knew it was an unfair question because of that, but I raised my hand anyway, hoping to save Harry some embarrassment.
I watched Harry think hard for a second, and then give up. He met Snape's eyes and said, "I don't know, sir."
Snape's eyes flashed, but he said nothing else to Harry. He turned to me instead. "Yes…?"
"Granger," I told him. "Hermione Granger." I ignored Ron mimicking my voice behind Snape's back, and I felt slightly vindicated when I saw Harry shake his head at him.
"You know the answer, then?" he asked, sounding impatient.
I nodded. "They're actually the same plant, which is also known as aconite."
Snape pursed his lips and then turned away, moving toward the blackboard. On his way, he said, "One point to Gryffindor for Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger's preparedness." He waved his wand at the board, revealing detailed instructions for the potion we were apparently brewing today. When he turned back to us, he added, "You should all prepare as well as they have, if you want to succeed in my class."
For the rest of class, we prepared a simple potion for curing boils based on the instructions on the board. We worked in pairs-Sally and I worked together-and it was actually rather relaxing cutting the ingredients and adding them according to the very precise specifications, except for the fact of Snape flitting around the room and hovering over everyone's cauldrons. However unpleasant he might have been, he was obviously a very talented potions maker, because the advice he gave Sally and I, or rather shouted at us, turned our potion into a flawless final product.
The class was not without incident, however, because at some point Neville managed to actually melt Seamus's cauldron. The potion only got all over him, but he broke out in painful red boils, and was moaning in agony before long. Snape came over, scowling, and cleaned up the mess with a wave of his wand. He also repaired the cauldron before turning to inspect the damage to Neville.
"Idiot boy," he hissed, and I was shocked at his direct insult of a student. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" A pause followed, during which Neville only moaned in pain. "Take him to the hospital wing," Snape growled at Seamus, and as the two of them left the classroom, he rounded on Harry and Ron.
"You-Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look even better if he got it wrong, did you?"
"No, sir-" Harry started.
"I don't want to hear excuses!" Snape yelled. "You've just lost the point you gained earlier!"
"But-" Harry started again, and stopped when Ron laid a hand on his arm.
Snape then turned away from them and strode to the front of the room, barking out that he wanted our finished products. Sally and I poured a sample of ours into a flask and stoppered it; she placed it on his desk with all of the others and we packed up our things.
I could not figure out why Snape seemed so intent on Harry, or why Snape had treated Harry very unfairly; I imagined if he hadn't known any of the answers, he would have lost points because of that. As I left the classroom a step behind Sally, I heard Ron and Harry talking behind me.
"What is his problem?" Harry asked.
"Dunno. But cheer up," Ron said. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George… How did you know those answers?"
"I've read the book, and we just learned about the first question in Herbology," Harry said, and he sounded tired.
"Oh, yeah…I suppose. Can I come to Hagrid's with you?"
I turned around and discovered they were right behind me. They looked up at me, Ron with some disdain and Harry with curiosity.
"Can I come too?" I asked, hopeful for something to do other than work now that the week was over. A few hours of fun or idleness with other students couldn't hurt…
"Who invited you?" Ron asked, and I started to turn away, already feeling my eyes burning, when Harry intervened.
"Ron," he said, disappointment in his voice. "Sure you can, Hermione." I turned back to them with my best smile, hopeful they weren't observant enough to notice my red face. "Have you met Hagrid yet?" he wondered.
"Only when he brought us to the school."
"Then let's go," Harry said, and started walking away from the Potions classroom. I fell in step on his left side, and Ron was on his right. Ron looked put out that I was with them, but said nothing further.
We left the castle and trekked across the sloping lawns, down past the lake and toward the Forbidden Forest. It was another clear, sunny day, though somewhat chillier than it had been. The chimney of Hagrid's hut was smoking when we arrived; outside, against the wooden walls, were an assortment of outdoorsman items. Harry knocked on the door and immediately loud barks met our ears.
"Back, Fang, back," I heard Hagrid say, and then the door cracked open. Hagrid's face filled the space. "Hang on. Back, Fang." After another moment, Hagrid opened the door and let us in. The hut consisted of one room, and there were even more outdoorsy-type things piled everywhere. Hagrid lost his hold on the giant dog and it launched itself toward Ron. He only had enough to shut his eyes before it started licking his ears.
"Fang ain't so bad," Hagrid told us, as Ron started gingerly to pet the beast. "Just excitable."
"This is Ron," Harry said, as we sat down at the table, "and this is Hermione."
"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid asked, leaning over and shaking Ron's hand, almost pulling him up out of the seat. "And pleased to meet you, too, young lady," he said, reaching over to shake mine. I patted his thumb and smiled up at him. I preferred my shoulder to remain in its socket.
We then recounted our first week of lessons for the very friendly gamekeeper-that's what he said he was-and he chuckled a bit when Ron and Harry told him of getting caught by Mrs. Norris out of bounds when they'd gotten lost.
"I'd like ter introduce `er to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere?"
When we finally arrived at our recent Potions lesson with Professor Snape, Hagrid agreed with Ron by saying that Snape hated all children.
"Then why does he teach?" I wondered.
Hagrid glanced at me, and I thought I saw something weird in his eyes, but it passed.
"He seemed to really hate me, though," Harry said, convinced of the fact.
"Nah," Hagrid returned. "Why should he?" I saw that Hagrid was looking at the floor when he said this.
"So Ron," Hagrid continued, "how's yer brother Charlie? I like him a lot-great with animals."
Although to me, and by the looks of it Harry as well, Hagrid had obviously changed the subject, Ron was quite happy telling Hagrid about his older brother's work with dragons in Romania. For my part, I couldn't believe that dragons actually existed. Every new day in the magical world, I learned something fantastical and fascinating.
As I listened to Ron, I noticed Harry pick up a piece of paper that had been on the table and read it over. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he interrupted Ron's description of a Chinese Fireball, which apparently was a type of dragon.
"Hagrid," he said, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!" I knew that Gringotts was the Wizarding bank, located in Diagon Alley, but I hadn't been to it during my time in the Alley. And I certainly knew nothing about a break-in.
"Yeh," Hagrid grunted, and then went back to asking Ron questions about Charlie. I watched Harry stare at Hagrid for a few moments, and then he read the paper again.
"Can I read it?" I asked him, and he passed the scrap of paper to me.
Gringotts Break-In Latest
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.
"Wait…goblins?" I asked, looking up.
Harry nodded his head impatiently. "Yeah, they run Gringotts; they're short and cranky. But that's not the point," he said, leaning toward me to confide something. I leaned in, tuning out Ron's story completely. "Hagrid and I were at Gringotts on July 31st, my birthday, and he took something out of a vault that was supposed to be a secret. Said something about school security and that he was acting on Headmaster Dumbledore's orders."
I pondered what Harry told me for several seconds. "And you think this break-in was for the same item?"
He shrugged. "Could be."
Soon after, we left and headed back toward the castle. On the way there, as we passed around the lake, I wondered why Hagrid had seemed so evasive when Harry started talking about Snape. And if Harry was right about the Gringotts break-in, how was Dumbledore involved? Or Hogwarts for that matter? Something fishy was going on…
But as the afternoon slipped toward evening, and I enjoyed a quiet conversation with Neville, Sally, and Harry in the Gryffindor common room following dinner, those questions slipped to the back of my mind. I was enjoying the camaraderie I had apparently been forming with these three, and no matter how often Ron scowled at me, I went to sleep that Friday night very content. It's too bad that happiness wouldn't last.
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