Well, I'll post the second bit now, because, well, I have it now. However, the 'real' action starts in the third bit. So bear with me and meet my wizards!

It was Friday, and Harry was thoroughly excited.
Harry and Blaise had spent the whole week racing about the castle trying to get to their classes on time. Although he had first been impressed by Blaise's knowledge of the school, the third time the pair got caught at the door of the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor Harry began to doubt Blaise knew Hogwarts as well as he thought he did. Mr. Norris, Filch's cat, had caught them twice already, and within two minutes Filch was on the scene to yell at them. Professor Quirrell had saved them the first time, and the Bloody Barron had the second-an unusual show of kindness. By the third, the pair had taken one look at the door and run the opposite direction, making it nearly half-way across the school before remembering they had to get to charms.

However, by Friday Harry and Blaise had managed to make it to breakfast without asking directions of anyone. They sat down at the Slytherin table proudly before heaping their plates with eggs.
"Potions today!" Blaise exclaimed through a mouthful of toast. "We finally get to see Professor Snape in action. My brother says if you're good in potions class you can make it in any job you'd like-though I'm not sure how potions would help anyone with journalism."

"Well, I suppose-" began Harry, but just then Pansy sat down across from them.

"I see you two finally managed to make to breakfast," she said with haughty look towards the boys' plates. "And you aim to eat the place dry."

Blaise swallowed and set his toast aside. "No, we're just making up for you. You know it's not healthy to starve yourself? My brother said there was a witch two years ago who tried to lose weight before a dance, and she got sent to Saint Mungo's. I heard after that she can't work any magic anymore-she became a squib all on her own!"

Harry paused through a mouthful of sausage. "A what?"

"A squib," Blaise said. "A wizard who can't use magic."

"So... a muggle, basically?"

Pansy snorted. "Hardly," she snapped. "Muggles are foul blood-at least squibs come from decent families."

Harry frowned as two identical girls sat either side of Pansy. "Good morning, Zabini, Pansy," they greeted, ignoring Harry.

Harry sighed. He found he was ignored quite a bit by the older Slytherins, but it was better than the looks he got from the other houses. Seeing them stare whenever he sat down with his housemates was utterly unnerving. He almost felt glad the Hat had taken advantage of his he023sitation, seeing them gawk at him.

"Good morning, Carrows!" replied Blaise cheerfully. "You're up early. Don't you two have first hour off?"

"Oh, we have herbology on Fridays," the one on the left-Flora-answered.

"And we heard that the first years have their first potions lesson today," said Hestia.

"So we came to give you some advice."

"Before you go making Professor Snape angry."

"Not that you stand a chance, anyways."

"Not when you're with him."

Harry ignored the prater the girls exchanged and cut in, "So how do we get on Professor Snape's good side, then?"

The one on the right-Flora-shot him a withering glare before looking back to Blaise. "So tell us, Zabini..."

"Have you read through your potions book yet?"

"Can't say I have, really," Blaise admitted, twitching as the toast in his hands grew cold. "I've been so busy with all our other classes I haven't got around to it-Professor McGonagall gave us two rolls of Transfiguration, you know that? On our first day, too! But Harry's been reading through the books all week, so he'll be able to cover me."

It was Hestia's turn to glare at Harry. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Still, Professor McGonagall's one of those that makes you glad you're not in stupid Gryffindor."

"I'd rather be a Hufflepuff."

"And that's saying something."

Pansy huffed. "Well, they're all full of mudbloods anyways," she snapped, pushing her sausage about her plate.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" Blaise asked. He was greeted with another glare.

"Flora Carrow," a voice suddenly snapped, "Have you been in my trunk again?"

The twins looked startled, and Harry twisted in his seat to see the girl behind him. It was Rose Hawthorne, the third year from the feast.

"Good morning, Rose," the twins chorused, though they seemed to be edging back in their seats.

Suddenly the older girl leaned right between Harry and Blaise, reached across the table, and tore the silver headband from Flora's hair, sending the twin's brown locks into a twisted mess. Rose brandished the band angrily. "What have I told you about touching my things, you brats?"

Harry blinked up at the black-haired girl in amazement. Until that point he had only seen her in passing across the Slytherin Common room, where she and Adrian LaConner seemed to have set up their own personal space that no-one else dared enter.

"But Rose, you left it out, and I didn't know-"

"Shut up with your little excuses; they're not fooling anyone." Rose stepped around Harry and sat down beside him, making him scoot towards Zabini uncomfortably. "Besides, you'd do well to remember that it was I who covered for the little love potion you were trying to brew in potions yesterday. I dare say getting on Professor Snape's bad side the first week of term would be a very bad move, don't you?"

The twins stared at Rose, with Pansy staring intently at her nails from between them.

"You wouldn't-"

"No, I wouldn't," Rose conceded. "However, this headband was a Christmas present. And I do hope you know that I received exactly three Christmas presents last year." She calmly heaped eggs onto the plate she had sat down at. "One, I received a book on wizard's chess from my brother, along with a goblin-crafted set. Two, I received a good deal of clothing from my Grandmother, most of which I ended up giving to the two of you anyways. And finally, I received this headband, from-"

"So you found your headband?" a new voice said, cutting off her monologue. "I was beginning to think you'd thrown it away." Adrian seated himself beside Rose, making Harry even more anxious to escape. Blaise, for some reason staring intently at the untouched piles of food on his plate, seemed not to notice Harry's discontent. "God, Carrow, what happened to your hair? Are you intending to make Slytherin look like a house of sluts?"

Flora flushed bright pink and practically jumped from her seat to run out of the hall, Hestia close behind her.

"And the sluts depart. Why are you sitting here, Rose? What would you want with that sort of filth?"

Harry hoped that she would take that as a cue to leave, but the girl just took another bite of potatoes after saying, "The first years have their first potions lessons today."

"Is that so?" Adrian suddenly stood back up and stepped right on and across the table, settling into Hestia's abandoned seat. He threw a careless arm around Pansy, who for the first time looked sincerely nervous. "And I suppose the little first years are wondering what sort of horrible-worrible things that mean old Professor Snape is going to do?"

Pansy seemed to have lost all ability to move, but Adrian wasn't even paying attention to her-he was staring right at Harry. The boy met the older student's eyes fearlessly. "Actually," he said, "I was hoping someone could tell me how to stay off his bad side."

Adrian stared at him silently for a moment, then let out a short, curt, bark of a laugh. "A brat like you?" he said deviously, and startling grin crossing his face. "Oh, this is just too cute. A brat like you honestly thinks you have a chance to not get on Snape's bad side?"

"Oh, shush up, Adrian," Rose snapped, setting down her fork. She looked at Harry with a serious expression. "Honestly, though, Potter, your chances are slim. Your best bet is to try and pretend you don't exist. The less reason you give Professor Snape to notice you, the less he will, and so the less he'll hate you."

Harry furrowed his brow. "But why would he hate me?"

Adrian burst in to harsh cackling, though it was quickly reduced to chuckling as Rose glared at him. "Adrian, you're making Miss Parkinson choke."

"My bad, my bad," he laughed. "Are you going to eat that sausage, or just play with it?"

Pansy shook her head, and Adrian took that as an offering. Grabbing her plate, he stacked it on top of his own, and used his fingers to pop the meat into his mouth. "Really, Potter," he said through his mouthful. "It's not Snape you ought to be worried about."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

Adrian smirked, narrowing his eyes so his face resembled that of a cat toying with his prey. "I'd just think twice before going wandering the halls on your own, Potter. I've been itching to test out some of the new spells I learned over the summer. Of course, a Hufflepuff would be easier to catch, but brats who actually try to defend themselves are that much more interesting."

"LaConner," a soft but harsh voice snapped. "I swear I spotted someone climbing over the table a minute ago. That wouldn't have been you, would it?"

Harry made a mental note to sit on the other side of the table from then on as he turned around again. He was met with black robes, black hair,and black eyes on a pale face surrounded by black hair.

"Of course not, Professor!" said Adrian, his tone back to how it had been when he'd first addressed Rose. "Why on earth would I do something like that? On a different note, the Carrows are taking Rose's things again."

The nostrils on the hooked nose flared. "Oh?"

"And of all things," Adrian continued, grabbing the headband off the table and waving it at the professor, "They took this, this time."

Rose snatched the silver band back, and for a moment Harry could swear he saw a blush rise in her cheeks-but it must have been a trick of the light. "Adrian!" she snapped. "Now look here, she just thought it was Marjan's! You know Marjan lets the twins borrow anything."

A dark eyebrow rose. "I'm sure Miss Hawthorne can take care of herself, LaConner. As for misconduct, I'm sure you wouldn't have anything to do with Tracey Davis showing up in the Hospital Wing either. As it were, there seems to be some seeds of doubt forming among the other professors, and I'll have you come with me. You too, Miss Hawthorne."

For a moment Snape's eyes flashed down and met Harry's gaze. A sneer swept across his face-then he was gone. Adrian stood and leaped over the table once again, hurrying off down the aisle. Rose stood up much more gracefully, dusting her skirt off. She was about to leave when she turned back and looked down at Harry.

"Like I said, Potter... Remember not to exist and you'll be fine."

She swept off after the other two, her robes billowing out behind her, and Harry turned back to the table. From what he'd seen, he wouldn't have to work very hard not to exist, for Snape seemed more than willing not to acknowledge his presence. Of the three first years, only Blaise seemed to perk back up.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, shoveling the food into his waiting mouth. "I couldn't bear to eat, knowing I might have something to add to the conversation!"

After Blaise had gotten his fair share of breakfast, he and Harry hurried to gather their books and head to class, determined to make it to their first potions class on time. As it was, they managed to get lost once again, looping about the same corridor three times before finding the stairs to the dungeons. The pair sprinted into the classroom, sliding into the seats in the very back of the classroom just before Professor Snape came marching into the classroom.

Harry had a hard time focusing through Snape's introductory speech, for every time he looked down at the notes he was trying to speech he felt as though a pair of eyes were boring holes into his skull, but when he looked up all his classmates had their eyes on Snape and the Professor himself was glaring down at Ron Weasley and the boy who'd lost his toad on the train.

"Weasley!" the professor snapped angrily at one point. "Surely if your rain isn't full of sawdust you know the magical values of Unicorn blood?'

Harry started—he'd been reading about unicorn blood just the night before. He began to raise his hand, but Snape somehow caught the movement and sent a glance so piercing at Harry he wondered that there wasn't a hole going right through him.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked in a hiss that was a bit too loud. Snape seemed to have lost his patience at that point, for he swooped down on the boy, looming over the table like and blackened pillar. "Do you have something to share, Zabini?"

Blaise flinched slightly. "No, sir."

"There will be no talking out of turn in this class." Snape did not raise his quiet voice, but he might as well have, for the silence in the classroom seemed to have increased a tenfold. "And if you continue to be a nuisance, I will have your classmates brew up some muting potions, and you will be the tester. Do you understand, Zabini?"

"Yes sir."

"Now," said Snape, wheeling about to strut forward to the front of the classroom. "Seeing as you so rudely interrupted, surely you can explain the question, Zabini?"

Zabini paused, not having listened to a word Snape had said all morning, and shook his head. "I'm sure Harry could, though," he added hopelessly.

Harry flinched, knowing he was in for it now. Snape's eyes finally settled on Harry. "Ah yes," the man murmured, lack eyes narrowing further. "Our new celebrity. Surely one of your fame could tell us the uses of unicorn blood?"

Harry squirmed, wishing he could just make himself invisible. "It can…" he stammered, trailing off.

"Yes?"

"It can keep someone from dying—for a short time, at least."

Snape's mouth twisted into an un-amused grimace. "Then I suppose you could tell us what the uses of the horn and the hair are, Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry admitted. He'd only read the bit about blood because of the image that had gone with it—a dreadful wraith that had survived too long off the blood. Looking at the contempt growing on Snape's face, Harry could have sworn the professor knew just what he was thinking. "Pity," the man said. "Boomslang skin?"

"No, sir."

"Essence of Dittany?"

"No, sir," Harry said again, but this time he nodded towards the Gryffindor girl Hermione Granger, who was practically falling out of her seat as she stretched her hand as high as she could into the air. "But I think she does, sir."

Snape shot Harry the darkest glare he'd given him yet and pivoted about, snapping to Hermione, "Sit down, you stupid little girl." He reached the front of the classroom fuming. "Boomslang skin, taken from the boomslang snake is used in the polyjuice potion, along with lacewing flies. Essence of Dittany prevents scarring, as any half-minded wizard should know." Suddenly he wheeled about, glaring at them all. "Why aren't you copying this down?"

Harry felt it was most unfair indeed, that Professor Snape would expect them to know on their first day of class all of these complicated ingredients. However, as the students were sent about trying to make a simple boils-cure potion, he found himself increasingly glad he was not a Gryffindor. Every chance Snape got his swooped in and criticized the Gryffindors's attempts, from the color of Neville Longbottom's brew to the chopping methods Dean Thomas was employing, which were no more effective than "blindly swinging at the ingredients with a mace." And Snape seemed to almost enjoy taking away points from the Gryffindors at every chance he got.

In a sense, belonging to Snape's House protected him from this sort of blatant hatred, Harry found himself thinking. He may not be on the Potions Master's good side—if there was one—but at least Snape wouldn't go around taking away points from his own House.

Suddenly Neville and Seamus' cauldron burst into flames, sending bits of their potion everywhere. The first years shrieked and pulled back, not knowing what to do, but Snape strode forward and with a flick of his wand reduce the firestorm to a tiny ball, which with a wave of his sleeve he blew out. "Idiots!" the Professor cried, indicating the heap of twisted metal that had been the pair's cauldron. "Did you not hear me say specifically to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the quills? Typical Gryffindors. Ten points from each of you."

Neville and Seamus stood by helplessly, their faces covered in red boils, as Snape waved his wand again, pulling the splattered potion off the floor and levitating it to the nearest sink, where it bubbled slowly down the drain. "Well, don't just stand there!" the teacher snapped. "Get yourselves to the infirmary! I'm sure you know where it is."

Harry looked glumly down into his potion, which had turned to a sickening, tar-like black sludge once he added his snakes' fangs. Snape, seeming to sense his deflation, descended on him next, and a satisfied smirk crossed his face as he looked in. "Pathetic," he said simply, and sent Harry's potion to join Neville and Seamus' in the sink.

As Harry set about helping Blaise stew his horned slugs, he decided he might not be liking potions much, after all.