Secret Relations

Chapter Nine

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"What about her?"

"Yeah, that's definitely her."

"Do you believe those rumors?"

"About her mother?"

"What about her father?"

"People are saying he worked for You-Know-Who."

"I'm surprised she wasn't put in Slytherin."

"Probably thought she would turn out evil."

"Did you see his forehead?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry and Elle from the moment they left their dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at them, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. Elle wished they wouldn't, because she was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry told Elle he was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Ron, and Elle 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 of 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.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anything (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

Once you managed to find your classes, it was then the matter of classes themselves. As Elle soon learned, there was a lot more to magic besides 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. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plats and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staffroom fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry and Elle's names he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Elle had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Elle and Hermione had made any difference to their matches; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave the two girls a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, 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 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.

Elle was very relieved to find out she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and 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 Elle, Harry, and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Elle and Ron as he poured sugar into his porridge.

"Double Potions with Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of the Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Elle looked around and spotted Hermione just as she walked into the Great Hall. She waved her over and Ron muttered something under his breath when Hermione came over and sat next to Elle. Then, the mail arrived. Elle had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her 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.

Elle had noticed that Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble Harry's ear and get a bit of toast from Elle before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Elle and Harry looked at each other before Harry tore open the envelope at once. It said, in very untidy scrawl.

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you and Elle 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.

"Are you ready for Potions class?" Hermione asked Elle as she ate some bacon.

"Er, sort of," said Elle. "I've been looking forward to the subject, but it's with the Slytherins."

"So?" said Hermione curiously, not sure why that mattered much.

"I've met a few Slytherins," Elle said, thinking back to Malfoy and his two goons, "and it's safe to say, I'm not a big fan."

It was lucky Elle had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

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. Snape continued calling names and when he reached Elle's name, he paused once more.

"My, my, my . . . Eleanor Riddle and Harry Potter. Well, don't think that just because you two are famous that you'll get special treatment," he spat.

Elle, feeling bold, opened her mouth and said, "I don't believe we asked for any."

Professor Snape looked Elle over with a very displeased look but acted as if he didn't hear her. The rest of the class, however, looked at her, their eyes wide. She flushed with embarrassment and sank a little in her seat — she was used to sticking up for Harry whenever Dudley and his friends would pick on him, so it was second nature for her to act brave. However, she very quickly realized that Snape's classroom wasn't the time or place for bravery.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he started. "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."

Silence followed the speech, and Hermione, who sitting next to Elle, sat on the edge of her seat, looking desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Elle couldn't lie, she was very eager about Potions class. Mrs. Chadwick always spoke very highly of her time at Hogwarts, and always went on and on about how much she enjoyed her Potions class. However, when Mrs. Chadwick was in school, the Potions teacher was a man by the name of Horace Slughorn. Elle was quite sure her adopted mother wouldn't enjoy Potions half as much if she had had Snape as a professor.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Harry looked to Elle, begging for help, but she only didn't want to speak out of turn again.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tue, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

It seemed as if he was ignoring Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but it seemed as if Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Elle shot a glare at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. Malfoy caught her eye and stopped laughing immediately and smacked both Crabbe and Goyle before smiling at her — what was he getting at? She just rolled her eyes and turned back to the front.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Elle, on the other hand, was beginning to lose her patience with Snape — why was he so insistent on barraging Harry with questions when it was quite obvious he didn't know? Especially with Hermione straining to answer his every question.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. As she sat, Elle, who decided she had had enough of this, stood. Snape looked at Elle vaguely. "That applies to everyone, Miss Riddle." However, Elle was feeling brave once again, and she remained standing. Snape grew irritated, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Miss Riddle, I said —"

"Asphodel and wormwood makes the Draught of the Living Death; an extremely powerful sleeping potion. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," Elle stated, remembering the endless nights she spent with her nose tucked away into her book One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi — it was a book Mrs. Chadwick had recommended she read up on.

The room was deathly silent; everyone was watching Elle and Snape, as if they were expecting for them to draw their wands and begin to fight. Instead, Snape broke his gaze with Elle and she sat down. Hermione gave Elle a very strange look but then turned her attention to Snape.

"A point will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Snape said. Then he looked at Elle, "And you, Riddle; you just cost your house ten points. Speak out of turn again, and it will be another twenty."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Thankfully, Hermione and Elle were paired together, and next to them were Seamus and Neville.

Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Elle. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Elle and Malfoy had stewed their horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Elle looked and saw Neville had added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire, and now Seamus' cauldron was melting.

"Neville, move!" Elle exclaimed, trying to pull him away.

But it was too late. 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 Elle and Hermione who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Riddle — 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? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Elle opened her mouth to argue, but Ron, who sat on the other side of her and Hermione, kicked her swiftly.

"Don't push it," he muttered. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

After Potions, Hermione bid farewell to Elle and hurried off, and so Elle climbed the steps out of the dungeon with Harry and Ron.

"I can't believe I lost us a house point already," Harry said glumly.

"At least you didn't lose eleven points," Elle muttered.

"Well, you did sort of ask for it," said Ron. Elle shot him a look, and his eyes widened, putting his hands up in surrender. "Hey, cheer up! Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you guys?"

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 Elle knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rand 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 hoarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were handing 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 yourselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasing' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Elle, Harry, and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Elle's knee and drooled all over her robes.

Elle, Harry, and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "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 — Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, and Elle chimed in, tell him about the points he had taken from her. Hagrid, like Ron, told Elle and Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me," said Harry.

"And I understand that I spoke out of turn, but he seems like he has it out for me," Elle muttered.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Elle couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

Elle wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy, and Elle leaned over, reading it 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.

Elle remembered Ron telling her and Harry on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"That was the day we were there, wasn't it, Elle?" said Harry quietly. "On our birthday?"

Elle eyes widened slightly and she nodded, looking to Hagrid, who was still talking to Ron.

"Hagrid!" said Elle, "that Gringotts break-in happened on our birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Elle's eyes this time. He grunted and offered her another rock cake. Elle and 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 Elle, Harry, and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Elle thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her 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 Elle and Harry?