"Neville!" A booming voice yelled, "Neville!"

A million thoughts were running through his head, but most of them were:"Oh my god, I'm going to be expelled! Oh my god, I have a job? He uses his voice like Gran oh my god oh my god oh my god I'M GOING TO DIE!"

"Neville Longbottom! Would you please slow your steps down! I'm afraid my old heart is going to beat right out of my chest from all this chasing!"

Neville, still clad in a thin hospital gown issued by Madam Pomfrey ran even faster. His bare feet slapped again the stone tiles of the Hogwarts' floor. With one hand, he flung open the doors to the Great Hall and charged forward. He even ignored the surprise looks his fellow classmates sent him and the sneer Malfoy sent him.

He came to a full stop before the Headmaster.

"M'boy, are you alright? Perhaps you need to go back to Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled and Neville felt the urge to face Professor McGonagall about his problems instead. However, this would probably offend Dumbledore so he stared straight at his wispy white beard.

"S-Sir... Professor Ramsay is out to have my hide. He told me I was hired but I'm pretty sure he means to use me in one of the dishes! Headmaster, please save me!"

The Great Hall, noisy only seconds ago, all turned their eyes towards the trembling boy to pleading with the Headmaster. The boy had locked knees and a faint paleness to his face. Otherwise, he seemed perfectly alright.

It was his request that started a booming laugh out of Hagrid and was soon joined by the hundreds of students.

"Perhaps you have hit your head-"

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" The Great Hall's doors were once flung open again unceremoniously, "LET ME HIRE YOU!"

With that, the said boy dropped to the ground in another dead faint.

"Merlin."

Harry was having the best time of his life. Potions had become his favorite class, and Snape was still gone.

"Harry, don't you think your souffle looks a bit... Orange?"

Harry snorted, "Hermione, I think I know what I'm doing. I've done this countless times."

Indeed, he had. He had made this souffle for his relatives' company dinners multiple times. He bet he could make this with his eyes closed. Looking down, he did see that his souffle was just a hint too orange, but it was probably still fine.

"I was just making sure you were alright. You don't have to be so snappy."

"Sorry, Hermione."

He rolled his green eyes and placed the souffle inside of the baking rack with a clang. Cooking was his forte. Even if he sometimes used questionable ingredients and cooking methods.

To say Draco Malfoy was having the worst week of his life would be an understatement. First, he royally pissed off Professor Ramsay when he tried to make biscuits and gravy. It was supposed to be a house elf's work! Not his.

Second, all the spells Professor Moody had performed Harry could mimic perfectly, and his wand wouldn't obey him. He saw the little grin Harry sent him every time the spells he tried backfired on him.

The entire Slytherin House had heard of his mistakes but didn't dare laugh at his face. However, he knew that they talked about him behind his back. He saw the small giggles that escaped some of the girls when he made eye contact with them.

Unknown to him, they were only giggling because he was so damn sexy.

Ron Weasley had never been more grateful to his mother his entire life. Thank god she forced him to help her around the kitchen when he was younger, or else he would've ended up with burned goopy messes like Malfoy's.

However, Moody's irritability diminished the feats he had accomplished in 'Potions' class. Every time he gained points for Gryffindor, he seemed to lose it in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

For example, when he did a perfect plating of caviar and biscuits, Professor Ramsay had awarded him with twenty points. He was able to bask in that glory until they arrived in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He tried to jinx without speaking, but he just couldn't do it fast enough.

"..."

"Ronald Weasley, five points off for not being able to jinx nonverbally."

"..." His red eyebrows scrunched together in anger.

"Ron Weasley, watch your attitude. Five points off for keeping a face like that."

"..." He had to get this jinx right before-

"Five points off for not acknowledging a Professor when he is teaching-"

"PROFESSOR MOODY," He roared out, and Parvati Patil shrieked with a stinging hex hit her, "YOU SLIMY GIT, I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO-"

"Silence Ronald. Another five points off for talking back to a Professor."

He flopped down with a groan and accepted the splash of water Hermione had shot out of her wand. He would never say this out loud, but he kind of missed Snape now.

Hermione Granger was conflicted.

One, the Potions Class was now being taught by Professor Ramsay, one of the most famous chefs in the world. Once she had told her parents of this new development, her mother wrote back the longest letter she had ever received talking about how it was an amazing opportunity.

Two, it was a fun class.

Three, she wasn't learning anything too magic related in that class. She knew that brewing potions and cooking were similar, but there was almost little to no magic she learned.

Maybe except some cleaning spells and some household spells. And how combining some muggle ingredients with magic would result in the most curious things.

And four, she tried her best, but somehow Neville almost always topped her. She was slightly peeved that his concoctions always tasted better than hers, or the presentation was "like a professional celebrity chef's!"

Harry's was always questionable. Somedays they would end up alright, and other days they wouldn't end up fine. However, she could tell that Harry definitely made a mistake in his souffle. Even though she did say that the color was a little orange- it was actually supposed to be neon orange.

The most concerning thing about it was that the smell was absolutely disgusting. It was like sulfur!rotten eggs!disgusting!nose!malfunctioned!help!