Chapter Two – The Potions Master

"Enough beauty rest, Harry! Time to start our magical education!"

Harry awoke the next day to Blaise's loud voice and the sound of his bed curtains being forcefully ripped open. He was surprised that the morning sun didn't immediately blind him, until he remembered that he was sleeping under a lake. There were enchanted flames burning in sconces set around the room, but the murky light coming in from the windows cast an eerie green glow over everything.

Despite his odd dreams, Harry felt completely refreshed. Today he would start learning magic. He hurriedly pulled on his school robes while Blaise checked over his appearance in an old, ornate mirror fixed to the wall.

"Where are they?" Harry asked, nodding toward the empty beds of Malfoy and his two cronies.

"Followed some third-years down to breakfast. Draco seems to think he's cut out for the Quidditch team and wanted to ask about try-outs, but he's deluding himself. They'll never accept a first-year."

Blaise stopped his preening and met Harry's eyes in the reflection of the mirror before adding, "I'm surprised he didn't wake you, they way he kept prattling on. To tell the truth, I think he was hoping you'd hear him. Probably wanted to impress you."

"Why would he want to impress me?" Harry asked, choosing to leave his questions about Quidditch for a later time.

"Are you for real?" Blaise replied.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he simply joined Blaise by the mirror and made a few feeble attempts to flatten his unruly hair.

"Oh, just leave it, Harry!" Blaise demanded, "It looks better like that, anyway! The last thing you want is to be another Draco Malfoy. He spent forever getting his hair perfectly adhered to his scalp this morning."

Harry did not need long to decide that Blaise was absolutely right, and soon they were headed down to the common room. A group of first-years were gathered around Gemma Farley and a dour-looking prefect boy. Gemma gave a loud shout and waved cheerfully when she saw Harry, which drew a number of stares from the waiting first-years. The other prefect scowled at him, though Harry had no idea what he could have done to offend him.

"Fantastic!" cried Gemma, "That's Harry Potter joining us! Now off to the Great Hall with all of you!"

Harry realized Gemma must have had everyone waiting for him before they could leave, and he could feel his face redden. In the midst of his embarrassment, his eye traveled naturally to Millicent Bulstrode. It was hard not to see her. She was easily the biggest person in their group, taller and broader than even the fifth-year prefect boy. Gemma, who was very short for fifteen, stood at least a foot shorter than Millicent.

Harry caught her eye and smiled, offering a friendly hello. He had not forgotten the support she had given him against Malfoy the night before. Millicent looked confused an uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but she returned his greeting cordially.

Harry felt Blaise nudge him in the ribs.

"Harry," he whispered as the group funneled into the hall and began making their way toward breakfast, "What are you doing?"

"What?"

"Saying hi to Bulstrode like that!"

"Oh. I was just being friendly."

"But why?"

"Is it wrong to be nice to Bulstrode?"

"Not exactly," Blaise admitted, though his exasperation was evident in his tone, "But she's not very pretty, is she?"

Harry had to concede that Blaise was right. Harry had seen very few girls who reminded him so strongly of his cousin Dudley. But he didn't see what that had to do with showing a little kindness to one of the few people who wasn't either glaring or gawking at him.

"I like her," Harry said simply, prompting a bug-eyed stare from Blaise.

He half-expected a rebuke, and was surprised when Blaise shrugged, saying "Have it your way, Harry."

From an organizational standpoint, Hogwarts had to be the most impractical school in existence. There were one hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts, Gemma Farley happily told everyone the first day, as if this were something to be happy about and not profoundly intimidating.

"You're bound to be late to almost every class," Gemma said brightly, "There are stairs with vanishing steps and moving staircases. Oh, there's even a few that seem to lead absolutely nowhere, but you won't notice until you've been walking up it for ten minutes without seeing any landing! Then there's the doors pretending to be walls… or was it walls pretending to be doors? Either way, good luck getting into those. If you do get lost for more than twenty minutes at a time, try asking the ghosts for directions. They generally know how to get around."

Gemma was wrong, of course. The ghosts were almost no help at all. The most they ever succeeded in doing was spontaneously appearing through doors just as Harry was getting ready to open them, thereby leaving him frightened out of his wits.

Once he finally did get to class, he learned that there was a lot more to magic than just saying "abracadabra" and waving your wand. There were still spells with funny words, and plenty of wand-waving in charms, but there were also hours of note-taking on famous sorcerers, magical beasts, astronomy, and the properties of certain herbs.

Some classes were very boring, like History of Magic – the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binn's droning voice threatened to bore his students to death. Harry mused that if the students really were to die of boredom, then there would be a class not only taught by a ghost, but attended by phantoms as well.

Other classes were very interesting, but also difficult. Professor McGonagall turned out to be just as strict and exacting as one would expect, and transfiguration was not an easy subject to master.

"What do we have today?" Harry asked Blaise on Friday morning at the end of their first week.

"Double potions with the Gryffindors." Blaise said with a smirk. It was no secret between them that Harry had wanted to be in Gryffindor House rather than Slytherin. Blaise considered it something of a joke. "That's Professor Snape's subject. I heard some fifth years saying that he usually favors us, so it should be an easy morning."

Harry glanced toward the staff table and spied the same greasy-haired teacher from the start-of-term banquet. He had learned over the course of the week that this was Professor Snape, head of Slytherin House. Harry did not experience the same searing pain in his scar as he had when he first met Snape's eye, but then the professor wasn't paying him any attention at the moment.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had been shocked the first day when about a hundred owls flew into the Great Hall to deliver their parcels. It seemed a little unhygienic to him to have birds flying overhead where people were eating food, but the owls turned out to be very polite. By now he was used to their daily appearance, even if he never received any mail himself.

However, this morning was to be different than the others. Hedwig, who had never delivered anything more than dead mice to Harry, fluttered down next to him with a note clamped in her beak. Harry almost thought there had been a mistake. Who could be writing to him? But Hedwig sat before him resolutely, ruffling her feathers with impatience when Harry did not immediately reach for his letter.

"Harry? Aren't you going to see what it is?" Blaise asked, clearly curious to see who had written to his friend. Harry had shared just enough about his life with the Dursleys to inform Blaise that they were not the sort of people to send Harry any post – least of all by owl.

Harry accepted the letter from Hedwig, giving her a little pat of thanks, and proceeded to tear open the envelope. He read the untidy scrawl with difficulty:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to have a cup of tea with me

around three? I want to hear all about how you're getting on in Slytherin House. Send us an

answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

"It's from Hagrid," said Harry.

"The gamekeeper?" Millicent asked. Much to Blaise's chagrin, Harry had invited her to sit with them during meals every day that week. She was suspicious at first, seemingly baffled by the notion that Harry Potter enjoyed her company, though now she accepted his invitations as a matter of course. "What's he doing writing you?"

"We're friends," Harry explained. He hadn't told either Blaise or Millicent about meeting Hagrid before coming to Hogwarts. "He says he wants to have tea later. Blaise, can I borrow your quill?"

"Friends with the gamekeeper?" said Blaise. He shot a significant look toward Millicent before looking pointedly back at Harry. The message was clear. First Bulstrode, and now Hagrid. "You're pretty weird, Potter."

It was lucky Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because his first Potions class gave him plenty to talk about. Professor Snape lived up to his reputation of favoring his own house over the others. However, this same favoritism did not appear to extend to Harry. The pain he'd felt in his scar seemed to be a harbinger of the dislike Snape felt toward Harry, and by the end of class, Harry was quite positive that Snape hated him.

Potions class was held in one of the dungeons, not far from the hidden entrance of Slytherin House. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike gathered in the dark, damp room. It was colder there than in the rest of the school, and Harry began to hope that they would start brewing potions right away, if only to get a little heat from the simmering cauldrons.

Minutes ticked by as the class waited quietly in the creepy potions room, and for a while there was no sign of their professor. When he did finally appear, he sauntered into the room like a specter, his black robes billowing out behind him.

He started his lecture immediately, as if he was carrying on a conversation that started in the hall.

"This class is designed to teach you the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he said, "Most of you will fail. For those of you who have the talent, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even cause death… I mean stop death, of course."

An uncomfortable silence followed this kind little speech. Snape allowed the silence to continue, forcing the students to marinate in it for several seconds before he suddenly cried out, "Potter!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. "Uh, y-yes sir?"

"Potter!" Snape shouted again, sounding alarmed, "Potter, what are you doing here?"

"I… I'm... attending potions class, sir," Harry stammered. He gave Blaise a panicked glance, but the other boy just shrugged and looked about as confused as he did.

"Ah, yes of course…" Snape muttered, as if Harry's enrollment was all part of some diabolical scheme set up against him. "Then tell me, Potter. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot up on the Gryffindor side of the room, but Snape did not acknowledge her.

Harry spared a glance at her pathetic attempt to get noticed and said, "I don't know, sir."

Snape sneered, "Then let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stood up from her seat and began waving both arms in the air. "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed quietly, "Pick me, pick me!"

Harry shot another look in her direction and rolled his eyes. Snape clearly expected him to answer, so he said, "I don't know. Diagon Alley?"

A few of the students snickered, but Snape did not look amused. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, Potter?" he said. "Tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

At this, Hermione jumped up onto her desk and began performing a short of soft-shoe tap-dance. "Professor Snape!" she sang, "I know the answer!"

Snape steadfastly ignored her. Harry, who had enough of this humiliation, said frankly, "I really don't know, sir. Why don't you ask Granger? Something tells me she has an idea."

The entire class laughed at this last comment, but all laughter ceased immediately when Snape snapped, "Sit down, Granger."

Hermione did as she was told as Snape rounded again on Harry, "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter."

"But professor!" protested Ron, who was seated next to a Gryffindor classmate Harry didn't recognize, "Harry's not in Gryffindor! He's a Slytherin!"

"Another five from Gryffindor, then!" Snape snarled, "I will not have my authority questioned in my own class! You're a Weasley, aren't you? I've had enough of your whole family! If you know what's good for you, you'll keep silent in my class for the duration of the term!"

This little exchange did nothing to make Harry popular with the Gryffindors. He tried to offer Ron an apologetic glance, but he couldn't catch his eye.

"Should I talk to the professor?" Harry whispered to Blaise as they began their first potions assignment.

"Don't bother. Nothing you can do about it now except make things worse."

An hour later, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon, Ron caught up with Harry, himself.

"What in bloody hell was that all about!?" he began angrily, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and spinning him around.

Harry threw up his hands defensively, "I'm as confused as you are! Snape must hate me for some reason. I'm sorry he took points off Gryffindor."

"Oh you're sorry? Well, that's not going to get our points back, is it? And why should he take points from Gryffindor because of you? You're a Slytherin, Potter."

Ron spat out the last two words as if they had a bad taste. Harry wasn't sure which was worse, having the fact that he'd been sorted into Slytherin thrown in his face, or hearing Ron call him by his last name. Until this moment, Harry had hoped they could still be friends. Now it seemed that was the furthest thing from Ron's mind.

Blaise stepped between the two of them. Ron was taller, but Blaise held his own with a calm demeanor and a steady glare. "Back off, Weasley. He already said he was sorry."

Ron looked like he would have said something more, but at that moment Millicent crept up behind him and poked the small of his back with the tip of her wand.

"You're in my way," she said quietly, "Move, unless you're the mood for a bat bogey hex."

For whatever reason, Ron seemed more intimidated by Millicent's quiet threat than by Blaise's glare. He turned pale when he felt her wand digging into his spine, and he said nothing more to Harry other than a few stammered words about "no hard feelings."

"Holy Balrog, Millie!" Blaise said, watching Ron go, "You've sure got him running scared! What'd you do to him?"

Millicent shrugged, "I heard him badmouthing Slytherin to that Seamus kid before class. So I told him that both of my parents were Death-Eaters and if I heard him do it again, I'd use one of their dark curses on him."

Blaise shook his head, "You shouldn't say that sort of thing to people. That's how nasty rumors get started."

"I don't really care what people think."

"Um…" interjected Harry, "Sorry, but – What are Death-Eaters?"

Blaise threw his hands into the air, "This is too much, Harry! How can you not know? They were followers of you-know-who!"

"It's not true about my parents," Millicent said as Harry eyed her warily, "I only told Weasley that stuff to get him to shut up."

"Yes, we wouldn't want you saying anything to upset Millie's sparkling reputation," Blaise said derisively, "But I suppose there's no use worrying now. The damage is already done, eh? More importantly, what are we going to do with our first free Friday afternoon?"

"Actually, I'd better be going over to Hagrid's now," said Harry. "Do you guys want to come with?"

Blaise and Millie looked as if there were several others ways they would prefer to spend the afternoon, but with Harry staring at them with wide-eyed enthusiasm, they were powerless to refuse.

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. 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.

"Quickly, then," he said as he ushered them inside. He was struggling to keep an enormous black boarhound in check with one hand while holding the door open with another. "Brought a few friends, did'ye Harry? Good, good. Make yerselves at home."

Hagrid let go of Fang, who bounded straight toward Millicent. She gave him one withering glare which stopped the dog in his tracks. He whined piteously, but seemed to cheer up once Blaise started rubbing him behind his floppy ears.

"These are Blaise and Millicent… Millie," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. He glanced tentatively in Millicent's direction to see how she would react to his use of the nickname Blaise had given her, but she didn't seem to mind. He figured that must mean he really had been accepted as a friend. And a good thing too, because Millie was starting to seem like someone you didn't want to cross.

"Not very often I get Slytherin students visitin' me," said Hagrid, "Then again, I don't get much o' any students visitin' way out here. 'Cept those Weasley twins. Can't keep those two away from the forest. Must have a death wish or summat like that. Anyway, it's good to have you, Harry. And your friends too."

The rock cakes were literally rocks covered in flour. Harry wasn't sure how Hagrid managed to live on such a diet, but he didn't appear to be playing a joke on him. He and Blaise worked industriously to covertly hide them in their pockets as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons.

"And today we had Potions," Harry was saying, "And it was just… Bizarre."

"Bizarre? How so?"

"Well, Professor Snape didn't seem to like me very much. I think he hates me."

"Rubbish! Why should he?"

"I don't know. But he definitely has something against me."

"Harry's right," said Millicent, "You should have been there today. Snape purposely singled Harry out right away. Started asking him all these complicated questions and mocking him."

"Then he took some points from Gryffindor." Blaise added.

"Gryffindor? But Harry's not in Gryffindor."

Harry, Blaise, and Millicent did nothing but simply look at Hagrid with expressions that seemed to say "yes, we know, we've established that already."

"Well…" said Hagrid lamely, "Nothin' to be done about it, I'm afraid. Snape's always been a bit of an oddball, if you ask me. But then every teacher here is a bit of a loon. 'Cept Dumbledore of course. He's a genius."

Hagrid went on for a while about how great Dumbledore was, but while he talked Harry could only think of the start-of-year banquet and Dumbledore's unusual announcements. The headmaster didn't seem to be entirely sane himself. Harry was busy ruminating over this thought when Millie tapped his shoulder.

"Have you seen this?" she whispered, and she pushed a newspaper cutting toward him. It was taken from the Daily Prophet and dealt with the Gringrotts break-in Ron had told Harry about on the train.

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringrotts on 31 July,

widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringrotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The

Vault that was searched had in fact been emptied that same day.

Harry read the first sentence again. "Hagrid! That Gringrotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Blaise and Millie looked at Hagrid with interest, but Hagrid refused to meet their eyes.

"Don't be silly, Harry," he said evasively, "Something like that couldn't have happened, could it? Breaking in in broad daylight… It's enough they could break into Gringrotts at all! No, must've happened after hours, when the place was empty. Thas the only explanation. Besides, if it had happened while we were there then we would've run right… Er…"

"What, Hagrid?" pressed Harry. "What would we have run into?"

"Nuthin'! I didn't say nuthin'! Now look at the time already! You kids had better be headed back before you miss your dinner. Unless you'd rather have some more cakes?"

"No thanks!" said Blaise, jumping up quickly. "We'll see you later, Hagrid!"

As they walked back to the castle, Harry explained to the others about how his trip to Gringrotts was related to the break-in.

"The article said the vault that was broken into had been emptied that same day," Millie commented after Harry had finished his story. "Any chance it was the vault Hagrid visited?"

"I suppose," Harry said, "But all that was in there was this little brown package."

Blaise nodded, "My mum's always saying that some of the most powerful magical artifacts are small and unassuming. Whatever it was must've been pretty important to be held in a Gringrott's vault all by itself."

"Yeah, but if it was so important, why would Dumbledore send Hagrid to pick it up?" Millie asked. "No offense, but Hagrid seems a little scatterbrained, doesn't he? Putting him in charge of something that important… It's like asking him to babysit. Would you trust him with a baby?"