Holly meets Hagrid

Blackie: Hmph. What a dumb title, that only happens at the en –

Hana: Shush! No giving away secrets. Go sleep on something.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Not lose your way!"

"Oh. Ron, Lee's been helping me. Now I can help you, though."

"What I wish," Harry said irritably, "is for people to stop following me or whispering about me."

"True." Holly said reflectively. "It's already hard enough for us with classes."

"And those stairs!" Ron muttered. The others nodded.

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 Holly 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 through a door you were trying to open. Some ghosts, like the Fat Friar and Nearly Headless Nick were always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves 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. Holly had been warned ahead of time by Lee, but she learned that Harry and Ron had managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning.

Having found them unknowingly trying to force their way into the forbidden third floor corridor, he'd threatened to lock them in the dungeons. Luckily, they'd been rescued by a passing Professor Quirrell.

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 anyone (except perhaps Fred and George) 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. Holly didn't hate Filch, but she did have to admit that he was very unpleasant.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Holly 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. 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 plants 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 and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates. Holly fixed the problem of taking notes during class by learning the same history from the books in the library and taking notes on her own free time. She used Binns' class to do other homework or draw.

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's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Holly realized that her impression of McGonagall being severe had been correct. 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. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig. 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 animal for a long time. After taking a bunch of complex notes, they were each given a match and had to try and turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Holly and Hermione had made any difference in their matches; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave the two of them a rare smile.

The class everyone had really 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 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. Quirrell always changed the topic when he was asked how he'd fought the zombie. There was also a funny smell hanging around Quirrell's turban. Lee told Holly that he and the twins were sure it was stuffed full of garlic, so Quirrell would always be protected.

Holly was secretly relieved to find that being from a Muggle family wasn't a disadvantage. She was understanding the concepts easily enough although putting it in practice was harder. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start. To her surprise, Holly was emerging as one of the top in her class. Hermione had secured the top spot, but Holly was right behind her.

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. Holly was waiting for them and they sat down next to her.

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

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron said. "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," Holly said wistfully. Professor McGonagall might be head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. Only be staying up for most of the night had Holly been able to finish most of it. It's a good thing I don't need a lot of sleep, naturally. She wouldn't have been sleeping much, anyway. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Potions and Snape.

Just then, the mail arrived. Holly had gotten used to this by now, but it had been 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 into their laps.

Holly saw Amber fly down to her. She was back! Holly had written to Megan, while telling her to just use Amber to write letters to her. Amber dropped off the letter and flew to the Owlery to get some sleep. Holly read the letter with a pang of homesickness, almost seeing Megan's face as she read what had been happening. (prank on substitute teacher, date with Luke, Sophia the Snob …) She put the letter away and looked at Harry, who was reading a note. He borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled something on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off with it. While Ron was busy talking to Dean, Holly asked Harry.

"What was on the note?"

"Oh. I'm joining Hagrid for tea today at 3."

"Can I come with you and meet Hagrid?"

"Sure."

"C'mon, you two," Ron said. "It's time for Potions."

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the castle, and many thought it would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Holly thought it was like a lab, kind of cool.

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, the musclemen (who, Holly had learned, were Crabbe and Goyle) sniggered. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. As Holly looked at him, she knew. The Pain was still there, she wondered if it always was. She'd thought about what she had felt. Was she really in love with Snape? A teacher! Or was she simply trying to find a gather figure, but no … that was Dumbledore, she decided. Just then, Snape started and Holly stopped to listen.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they 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 and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Holly was trying not to shiver as she felt Snape's voice, like black silk, wash over her.

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

Holly glanced at Harry, who looked stumped. Hermione's hand had shot up into the air.

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

Snape smiled softly.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand. Holly, looking at him, felt that the Pain was more intense for him when he looked at Harry. Snape continued.

"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 Holly could tell Harry had no clue what a bezoar was. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

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

Okay, that was unfair. Holly had looked through all her books beforehand, and she bet Harry had as well. Did Snape expect Harry to remember everything he had read in Magical Drafts and Potions? It looked to Holly like Snape had a special dislike of Harry, though she didn't know why.

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.

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

A few people laughed; Holly saw Seamus wink at Harry. Snape, however, wasn't amused.

"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. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. 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?"

Holly paused in her note-taking as there was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs (Holly and Hermione were together) 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. Now 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. Holly, on her stool, felt a wave of sympathy for Neville. That had to hurt.

"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 red 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? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Holly saw Harry start to open his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind the cauldron. Holly felt it was best that Harry didn't speak up.

As they left the dungeon, Holly could see that Harry was feeling down. She gave him a smile.

"It'll be okay."

"But …" started Harry.

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come to meet Hagrid with you two?"

At five to 3, 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 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.

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 yourselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started liking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

Harry motioned to Holly. "This is Holly Smith."

"Nice t'meet ye." "It's very nice to meet you as well."

"This (indicating Ron) is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was now 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 chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisings that almost broke their teeth, but Holly and the boys pretended to enjoy them as they told Hagrid about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes. The boys 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. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me!"

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

Yet Holly couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet Harry's eyes when he said that.

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

Holly felt Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose, but she listened with interest to Ron talking about Charlie's work with dragons. Meanwhile, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. 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 earlier today.

"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.

"Hagrid!" Harry said, "this Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid just grunted and offered him another rock cake. Holly looked at Harry with interest. So, his birthday was July 31st.

Later, as they walked back to the castle, Holly pondered at all that had happened that day. Hogwarts was turning out to be nothing like she had ever dreamed.