Rosalina's and Hermione's first week went by in a flash of classes, each one more bizarre than the last. English was … English , and so hadn't changed much except that the first class was about how to write with a quill and ink, instead of pens or pencils. There was a great deal of blotting of pages from everyone, so they didn't feel too far behind.
"Professor Strenn, why can't we use pens or something like that?" Rosalina asked at one point after having blotted her page for what felt like the twentieth time.
"Because you can charm a quill to refill itself from a pot of ink, whereas a muggle pen is useless after it runs dry," said Professor Strenn, and that was all he would hear of the matter. Pansy Parkinson, having been using quill and ink since she was first starting to write, laughed. Draco chuckled for a moment, but stopped when he saw Rosalina scowling at Pansy.
If Rosalina had known any curses she would have thrown them at Pansy the moment they got out of class, but this was one of the things that her parents hadn't allowed her to learn at home.
Want bite? asked Finley, slithering around her neck. Her teachers hadn't minded him, so she'd taken to bringing him to class with her.
No bite. Thank you though, hissed Rosalina, giving him a pat on the head.
Professor McGonagall was stern, even to the Gryffindors, just as Felicity had said, but it was exciting. She spent a great deal of time explaining the hows of magic, and it was only at the end of the lesson did she start to get them to do actual, honest to goodness magic. Hermione grasped the practical nature of the lesson and was able to kind of use it to transfigure a wooden match into a steel match, but that's as far as she got. This still earned her praise, or what counted for praise, from Professor McGonagall.
"At least you got it to change. I wasn't able to do anything to it," said Rosalina that evening. They'd found that, while you were encouraged to sit with your house, you didn't have to. As such, Rosalina would join the Gryffindors at times, while Hermione would join the Slytherins at others.
Neither house was fine with this, but when Dumbledore commented on how nice it was to see the two houses working together they stopped grumbling. Well, out loud at least.
"Mine got pointed," said Daphne Greengrass, another first year.
"It did? I missed that! Well done!" said Rosalina, beaming at her classmate as she fed Finley a mouse. She didn't know how he'd done it, but Professor Snape had given her a special plate that, if set out, would manifest a dead mouse for Finley at the same time the other dishes would manifest food if she brought it with her to meals. It was equal parts horrifying and fascinating to her fellow Slytherins. ("That's Professor Snape for you," said one sixth year).
"How? I could only get it to go steely," asked Hermione, forgetting where she was sitting.
This earned her a raised eyebrow from Daphne and a chuckle from Pansy.
"Like we'd tell you," said Pansy with a sneer, and Goyle let out a snort. Neither of them had managed to get theirs to change even one iota.
"It's all in how you see it. You've got to keep it in your mind's eye," said Draco, giving Rosalina a little glance as he spoke. He'd not managed to get it to change in any noticeable way, but Professor McGonagall had still commented on his progress regardless.
Hermione pulled a notebook out from nowhere and wrote that down, and Draco smiled and sat back in his seat, preening a bit.
Potions was interesting. Draco made a point of sitting with Hermione after this, and Rosalina sat with Neville. Harry sat with Ron, staring at both Granger sisters like they were out of their minds.
The big take-away from the lesson was that while Professor Snape could be a strict teacher, he hated Harry. He asked him a series of questions at the beginning of the lesson, and while it quickly became obvious that Harry didn't know what the answer to any of them was, Professor Snape ignored Hermione when she tried to answer them.
The first potion they were set to brew was a simple one to cure boils, and while Hermione and Draco managed to do well enough, Draco even earning a smattering of praise from Snape, Rosalina and Neville's potion was a series of near disasters. With Rosalina's help nothing went catastrophically wrong, but it was obvious that Neville had no head for potions.
"It's just like cooking. We can work on it next time," said Rosalina to Neville, who sulked.
"He hates me, I just know it. He was glowering at me the whole class," said Neville, taking his time in putting his books away.
"No, he hates Harry, or he would ignored Hermione to call on you too," said Rosalina and at this Neville smiled.
"Thanks. I probably would have, I dunno, melted the cauldron if you hadn't been my partner," said Neville, finishing putting his books away.
Rosalina laughed. "You wouldn't have! Nobody's that bad. Just a little off when it comes to reading directions, that's all."
Finley and Trevor, for their part, got on well enough. Finley had no idea what to do around another living animal in human spaces while Trevor was unconcerned by the predator near him.
It was Professor Flitwick's class that really shook up their understanding of how the world worked. Hermione's class with the Gryffindors was reasonably straightforward. Learn the basic principles of magic, like with Professor McGonagall, make light appear at the end of your wand. That's it. No one questioned why it did what it did, they just said the word and tried the charm.
Rosalina's class, however, had Crabbe.
"So just keep the light in your mind, say 'lumos' and the light will appear on your wand," said Professor Flitwick
"Why?" asked Crabbe.
"Why what?" asked Professor Flitwick, eyes peering at Crabbe.
"Why lumos? Why not some other word? Why is it that lumos makes the light?" asked Crabbe. Crabbe was a bit slow at times, so he took a bit to catch up to the rest of the class.
"Because that's the word you need to say for it to work," said Pansy, and half the class snickered.
"That is almost, but not quite, entirely wrong, Ms Parkinson," said Professor Flitwick, eyes shining, and the class went quiet. "The correct spellform is important because, done properly, it tell the mechanisms by which established magical systems function what to do and how to do it. Done improperly and nothing happens, or worse, old magic is let loose."
"What's so bad about letting loose old magic?" asked Draco, leaning forward in his seat.
"Nothing if you're fine with having uncontrollable magic set about, doing whatever it wants because you don't know how to stop it," said Professor Flitwick, smiling. "Now, wands out!"
A few people in the class were able to get little flickers of light, but only Draco was able to get it to sustain itself in any real way. Rosalina and Pansy were able to get theirs to spark a few times, but nothing lasting.
"I guess you need to come from a real wizarding family if you want to do proper magic," said Pansy as they left class.
"I didn't see your light lasting any longer than mine did," said Rosalina, gripping her wand tight.
"I didn't even get a flicker," said Crabbe, plodding along beside them.
"That's cause you're thick," said Goyle, who snickered at this like it was the greatest joke he'd ever told.
"Like you're one to talk. I bet you'd fool around with that … that old magic Professor Flitwick talked about," said Crabbe, and he gave Goyle a punch in the arm.
This was not the friendly kind of punch that Hermione and Rosalina tended to give each other when the other was being cheeky, something that Draco and Rosalina realized at the same time.
"Did either of you get yours to light?" asked Draco, turning to stare at his friends.
"No," they said together, defeated, and the fight died down as fast as it started.
"We can figure it out together, then!" said Rosalina, and Crabbe lit up at this, though Goyle didn't seem any happier.
"But you're a mud … muggleborn," said Goyle, catching Draco's eye before he could finish.
"A mud muggleborn? What's a mud muggleborn?" asked Rosalina, eyes narrowing.
"Nothing! It's nothing," said Crabbe, glaring at Goyle again.
"What he must have meant to say was …" began Pansy, but she stopped when Daphne came out from the classroom.
"Nothing. A mud muggleborn is nothing. A muggleborn, though, is a witch or wizard whose parents are muggles," said Daphne, and Pansy wilted.
"The Grangers aren't my parents. Well, I mean, they are, but not my biological ones. I'm adopted," said Rosalina.
"Is Hermione adopted too? Because if you're both adopted that would make explain how you're both Parselmouths," said Crabbe, grinning like he'd just deciphered a great mystery.
"What are you talking about?" asked Rosalina. She'd thought about coming out as a Parselmouth at first, but once she saw the student body collectively panic at the notion of not one but three Parselmouths at Hogwarts in the first year class as the rumor mill churned, she tried to keep it to herself, nevermind saying anything about Hermione.
"We heard you talking with her in Parseltongue before the Sorting Ceremony and since you're sisters it makes sense that you're both adopted," said Crabbe. He'd seemed unsure of himself at first, but he'd started to smile once he got to the end of what he was saying.
"I taught Hermione how to speak Parseltongue ages ago and I still can't see what makes it so bad or odd that we have muggle parents even if we can speak Parseltongue," said Rosalina.
"But mudbloods can't be Parselmouths! It's a wizarding talent, you have to have it in the blood!" said Goyle, preemptively wincing when Crabbe turned to glare at him.
"Mudblood. That's another new one. What's a mudblood?" asked Rosalina, turning to look at Goyle. She gave him a sweet, toothy smile, the kind of smile that brought to mind wolves and small furry woodland creatures.
"Nothing, it's nothing, slip of the tongue," said Goyle, who knew this smile, had given this smile to others.
"It sounded like something. What's a mudblood, Gregory?" asked Rosalina, her hands going behind her back as she leaned in towards Goyle. Daphne said nothing this time.
"It's a better name for a witch with muggle parents. I mean, real muggle parents," said Pansy, trying and failing to stifle a giggle. "Like Hermione. She's a real down and dirty one. You're probably not one, but you're not much better than one considering you parents. Oh, sorry, adopted parents."
"Oh. Mudblood. Because she's a muggleborn, and her blood is mud. Rather than pure, like yours. I get it," said Rosalina, who chuckled a bit at this. "Thank you for explaining."Pansy smirked a bit, then turned to Daphne to say something.
This was a mistake.
Rosalina plowed into Pansy with a roar of fury, knocking her to the ground, books and wands tossed across the hall, all sense of magic forgotten. Pansy tried to push Rosalina back, but Rosalina didn't budge even a little bit.
"Never! Insult! My! Sister!" said Rosalina, punctuating each word with a punch to Pansy's perfect face as she straddled Pansy's chest.
Pansy tried to reach for her wand, which was just out of reach, but Rosalina grabbed her hand and squeezed, and Pansy shreaked and stopped. Rosalina held on to the hand, though, pinning it to the ground.
"Now! I have! To use! My! Offhand! I hate! Using! My offhand! To punch!" said Rosalina, slamming her left fist into Pansy's side.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" said Professor Flitwick, and the crowd that had formed around the two of them parted as Rosalina floated into the air. Pansy, though free of Rosalina, didn't move. She was a battered, bruised mess.
"Ms Greengrass, please escort Ms Parkinson to the hospital wing. Ms Granger, my office. Now," said Professor Flitwick, setting Rosalina down on the ground and picking up a panicked Finley, who'd fallen with Rosalina's bag and been forgotten about in the skuffle. There was no twinkle in his eye, and he did not seem at all amused.
