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There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair and the small kid with the black puppy."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.
Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. Hogwarts was huge, and the ghosts and portraits didn't help. One of the worst habitants of the castle was the caretaker, Argus Flich.
Harry, Duncan and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning.
Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.
"Professor, are you feeling alright?" Duncan had asked, his head titled to the side. Harry noticed his nostrils had flared.
"O-of c-c-c-ourse, Mr. Ro-o-osen-b-b-latt." Quirrel had said. Later, Harry had asked in a whisper why he had asked that.
"He smells strange. Like he has different scents. As if he was two, but yet one…" Duncan had said with his brow furrowed.
"In my opinion, you should have your smell checked." Smiled Harry
And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as the twins quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets (much to Duncan's annoyance) They also had Herbology, Charms and much more.
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke.
His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, (which caused Duncan to ask Madame Pomfrey to a sense-reducing potion) which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.
For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
The cousins were very relieved to find out that they weren't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like them, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.
Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
"Harry, where's your brother?" Ron asked. Harry looked around. Duncan had been with them when they left the tower…
Scanning the table, he found him chatting animatedly with Hermione Granger. They went towards them.
"Where were you?" Harry asked him, his brow furrowed.
"With Hermione." Snorted Duncan. "What, just because I'm your twin doesn't mean I have to be all the time with you. Hey Ron, how it's going?"
"Fine, we managed to get here without getting lost."
"You didn't ask for directions?" Hermione chipped in.
"Hey, we tried, but in case you haven't noticed, the ghosts and such doesn't help!" said a red-eared Ron
"What about a Prefect?" asked Hermione. Ron and Harry looked at her. "Thought as much." Smiled Hermione.
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.
"Double Potions with the Slytherin," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."
"Favoritism is wrong in teachers…" said Hermione.
"Mom told me of the rivalry of my biological Dad with Snape. I look just like him, and for what Mom has told me, he can hold a grudge." Grumbled Harry
"I don't think he'll do that, Harry." Hermione tried to calm him down
"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Duncan. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.
Just then, the mail arrived. Harry and Duncan had gotten used to this by now, but it had given them a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
Their Mom had written to them asking how the year was so far, and the twins had sent her a long letter about their Sorting and the friends they had made. This morning, however, Hedwig fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:
Dear Harry and Duncan,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.
Hagrid
Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.
It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.
At the start-of-term banquet, and the talks with his Mom, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong.
Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons.
It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands.
"I am Harry Rosenblatt, sir." Growled Harry, putting emphasis in the last two words.
Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't 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 aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed this little speech. Harry, Duncan, Hermione and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's and Duncan's hands had shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," said Harry.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."
Harry could almost feel Duncan's anger rising.
He ignored Hermione's and Duncan's hands.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Harry thanked God he had a bookwork for a brother. He did know this one.
"It's a stone that is found in a goat's stomach and is used as an antidote for the majority of poisons." Snape didn't say anything, and Harry saw Duncan smiling at him, pleased, but still noticed his eyes turning a bit green. Oh, oh. He thought
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
"That's enough. He had already shown that he doesn't know those facts, so why you don't leave him alone and pick on someone else?" Duncan's voice trembled with rage. The class looked at him in awe or in outrage.
"Mr. Rosenblatt, I will not accept insolences from anyone. Ten points from Gryffindor." Duncan just continued staring into those eyes.
"For the other question, I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked.
Snape, however, was not pleased.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
"You didn't tell us to." Grumbled Hermione, angry at Snape for picking on her(dare she say it?) friend. Luckily Snape didn't hear her.
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you?"
"Maybe because he was busy with his own potion?!" snapped Duncan. Snape looked at him.
"That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.
"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty, and with Duncan he had had enough."
"I can turn VERY nasty too" grumbled Duncan under his breath.
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing
"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"
"Sure. Hermione, want to come?" she smiled and nodded
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.
When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Duncan immediately picked Demon up. Hermione smiled at it.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Demon (knocking Duncan to the ground) and started playing with him. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
"This is Ron," Duncan told Hagrid rising from the ground, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. Hermione helped him up. "And she's Hermione."
"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. And nice to meet you, Hermione."
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Hermione and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Duncan didn't ate them, saying he wasn't hungry (Actually, Duncan had a horrible famine)
Fang and Demon were lying on the floor.
Harry, Duncan and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."
"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime.D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it."
"He's a bit nasty." Opined Hermione.
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students. And also advised Duncan to not talk back to the teachers.
Duncan pretended not to hear him, he still thought that was worth it.
While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, with Hermione listening with interest, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy, and Duncan read over his shoulder. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:
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.
Duncan remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.
"Hagrid!" said Duncan, "that Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"
There was no doubt about it, Hagrid didn't meet his eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?
As Harry, Duncan, Hermione and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell the twins?
So...Hate it? Love it? Why? Do you have any ideas for the next chapter? REVIEW! Constructive critisism welcomed!
Your favorite dark-eyes,
H. E. B.
