First day of school
With great apprehension, I found a seat in the very last row, sat down, and waited until the stout man started his lesson. It had taken the students a few minutes to enter through the narrow door, and now most were engaged in conversations and finding a suitable seat for themselves. Shortly before the door fell into the lock, someone hastily sat down next to me. I looked up, surprised to find none of my friends there but a Hufflepuff girl with long black hair.
She was leaning in my direction, so our faces were so close to each other; closer than I had ever been to anyone, I realized in a panic. I stared directly into her eyes. Without effort, I could count the tiny crinkles in the outer corners of her eyes and see them fade away when she stopped smiling. Her skin was freckled underneath her eyes, and her lashes were full, and so long they almost touched her eyebrows and the skin below her eyes. The eyes themselves were of light green with brown sprinkles.
For a moment, I thought it was her. For a moment, I thought my search had ended on Day One, and if she had been my person, I would have laughed, hugged her tightly, and never let her go. For a moment, I felt like breaking out in hysteric laughter.
But the feeling inside my chest was just my racing heart. Nothing spectacular had happened; the heavens didn't open up, and nothing changed. I was still in the Potions classroom of Hogwarts; this was my first day of classes. Calm down, I told myself, repeating it again and again like a mantra.
"Is this seat still free?" she asked as she was already sitting.
"Not anymore," I replied and hoped my smile looked genuine.
She turned toward the blackboard for a second, then back at me.
"Is everything alright with you?" she asked.
"Mh?" I grumbled. "With me? Yeah, sure. What's your name?"
"Annabelle. Richards," she replied, "what about you?"
"Noel Snow."
"And you're in Ravenclaw?" she said, and I wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be a question or a statement.
"Yep. And you're in Hufflepuff."
She nodded. "Of course."
"Good morning, good morning, everybody," said the stout man while waddling left and right in front of the blackboard. He tapped it with his wand, and a few words appeared on it.
The first line read Professor Slughorn in strongly curved handwriting. Under it, Cure for Boils was written in the same script, with a list of ingredients and work steps following it.
"Welcome to your first Potions class! To finish our first potion on time, I'm not going to keep you up with boring theoretics at the beginning of our first lesson and prefer to -" he giggled, "push you into the cold waters directly. So, you will attempt to brew the Cure for Boils, a simple potion with which I believe no one should have any significant issues if you strictly stick to the protocol. You will find a detailed version on page 13 of your textbooks. If any questions remain, please raise your arms, and I shall help you to the best of my abilities. Once all of your potions are brewing, we shall look at what ingredients belong into which potion for what reason."
He rubbed his hands across his massive belly, and a grin settled on his lips.
I was relieved that all the ingredients were already in the essential elements I purchased in Diagon Alley with my parents. I read the entire page from top to bottom to be prepared for everything I had to do, and then I started the fire below my cauldron.
I crushed the snake fangs until nothing but fine dust was left of them and added them to the cauldron before heating it up and waving my wand in the motion described in the textbook.
After Professor Slughorn lectured us for a while about the constituents of a potion and where to find the most common ingredients, we continued our work. I put in four horned slugs, took the cauldron off the heat, and added two porcupine quills. I stirred in the correct direction (clockwise!) and then waited for the result. I thought I did pretty well, but then green smoke emerged from my cauldron, and a foul smell filled the air of the dungeon. Professor Slughorn pushed his body through the spaces between the desks with more grace than I had anticipated, and with a swish of his wand, the contents of my cauldron were gone.
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Snow. We all started somewhere."
I didn't want to worry, but somehow I was the only one who messed up this much. From all the other students, Slughorn was able to get a small vial of the potion for his analysis and assessment.
I left the dungeon with a queasy feeling in my stomach. Luckily it was already time for lunch, and after Jacques, Edward, Tony, and Ryan caught up to me, we went to the Great Hall to eat.
"I love Potions," Jacques gushed. "I believe this will be my favorite subject."
"Calm down," Tony laughed, "this was just the first lesson. Wait before making such statements; I've heard Potions is getting really hard really fast."
Jacques waved him off and opened the door to the Great Hall, where several students were already sitting at the tables and eating their lunches. With a sigh, I sat next to my friends and shoved some potatoes and roast on my plate.
"Whasson afder lumch?" Tony slurped.
I rummaged around in my bag to find our timetable.
"Transfiguration," I responded, reaping nothing but groaning from the others.
"My brothers told me it's the hardest subject out of all," Edward whined and covered his face with his hands.
"Can't be worse than Potions," I replied.
"Oh, come on now, Noel," Zoe said and leaned in closer, "I also wasn't happy with what I brewed."
"Yeah, with the slight difference that Professor Slughorn praised you in the highest tones, whereas he had to let my potion vanish because it was a safety hazard."
Zoe just bit her lip.
The rest of lunchtime went by without anyone saying anything. After half an hour, we made our way to the Transfiguration classroom. I was annoyed with the world and with my inability to be indifferent about it. I was angry with myself for screwing up such an easy potion and not even understanding what I did wrong. And it worked like some self-fulfilling prophecy that I couldn't keep the thoughts of inadequacy out of my brain, telling me it would be best to leave Hogwarts in this instance, as my incompetence was so evident; what was worse was that I even proved to be dangerous to the other students.
Downhearted, I found an empty desk in the Transfiguration classroom and assembled my study materials, ensuring that the book's edges perfectly aligned with the edges of my parchment. When I looked back up after finding my quill in my bag, I was puzzled to see that Annabelle had again taken the desk next to mine. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but at that moment, Professor Dumbledore entered the room. When he reached his table at the front end of the room, he turned around with a sly smile on his lips and a cunning twinkle in his eyes.
"What a delight to see you have all found your way here," he said. "As this is your first lesson in Transfiguration, we shall start with some introductory safety statements and theoretical basics before attempting our first simple transfiguration. Now, if you could open your textbooks on page 7, please..."
Page 7 in the textbook was the start of the first chapter about correct wand movements, safety precautions, exceptions, and mnemonics to remember recurring phrases. Professor Dumbledore's class was mesmerizing, and my doubts about not being good enough had left my mind - not necessarily because I excelled at Transfiguration, but more because there was simply no space in my brain for such mundane thoughts. Everything was taken up by the contents of the lesson. After some time, Dumbledore ordered us to close our textbooks and look at him for a demonstration.
"Now, I don't expect perfect results from any of you today - this is your first lesson, and Transfiguration is an extremely hard-to-learn practice. You should approach this undertaking with the same mindset. The most important thing today is to keep your concentration up and be relaxed. This is the first step to any successful transfiguration."
He changed his stance slightly and brought his left hand up to his face, holding something between his thumb and pointer finger.
"I put a match on each of your desks," he said, sounding a bit absent.
I was about to remind him that he probably forgot to do it, but when I looked down at my desk, I was perplexed to see that there was, in fact, a needle.
"Our first task is to make it look like a needle. Just like this."
He waved his wand in a motion I remembered seeing in the textbook. Then, the match between his thumb and pointer finger was gone, and instead, there was a needle, the smooth metal surface shining in the afternoon light. There were several "Ah"s and "Oh"s from the students all over the classroom. It looked so easy when he had done it like there was nothing that could go wrong, but when I first attempted the wand movement, I realized it was anything but that. The others seemed to struggle as well.
Anthony ignited his match three times in a row, to the point where Dumbledore refused to give him another one and had him practice his wand movements without an object. My match changed shape and color after a few unsuccessful attempts. I couldn't let the eye of the needle appear, but at least it was smooth, shiny, and silver, almost like a needle. With an encouraging smile, Dumbledore worked his way over to my desk and inspected my results.
"Look over here, class," he said, "this is the work of a student who's on an excellent way to becoming a successful Transfiguration wizard. 10 points for Ravenclaw."
I could feel the blood rush to my face as I felt the looks of the two dozen students on me. I tried looking at my friends for reassurance, but Jacques was so deeply concentrated that he bit his lip so forcefully I was afraid we would have to bring him to the hospital wing after this lesson, and Tony was staring into the air. He had obviously lost interest in the subject.
Annabelle, next to me, didn't get discouraged after failing several consecutive times, and after she took a deep breath, she made her match shine silver.
Then we received our first homework assignment: summarize the first chapter of the book in our own words, look through the mnemonics, and remember those we think will be helpful to us. When the lesson ended, I quickly shoved everything into my bag and looked for my friends in the corridor.
"You see," Zoe said, "Transfiguration is your calling. No need for potion-making."
"You're probably right," I replied, and we went to the greenhouses for our Herbology class.
To be frank, it was slumberous. I was almost happy we were in the oldest and drafty greenhouses closest to the Forbidden Forest because had they been any less uncomfortable, I might have just fallen asleep. It started with a never-ending introduction on how to use the greenhouses, their layout, which greenhouses we were allowed in and which we weren't, and ended with how to spot dangers, where to report them, and some first aid in the case of anything going wrong. During the lesson, we were not allowed to test anything out or do anything remotely interesting. We just had to write everything down.
The Gryffindors, with whom we had Herbology, seemed even more bothered about this. They were constantly trying out what would happen if they tickled some plant in front of them in some particular spot, and the resulting scolding from the teacher made the lesson even more monotonous. When the class finally ended, my hand was cramping up from all the parchment I had filled with ink.
Technically, the school day was now over. But I still had that appointment with Professor Dippet. Reluctantly, I made my way to the staff room and knocked. Professor Slughorn opened the door, and when he realized it was me, a pitiful expression sneaked onto his face. I cleared my throat.
"Could I ... speak with Professor Flitwick, please?" My voice sounded hoarse.
Professor Slughorn just nodded and turned around.
He called "Filius!" A few moments later, the familiar sound of disproportionally large feet shuffling over the floor could be heard.
"Mr. Snow, what can I do for you?" Professor Flitwick asked.
"Uhm, I actually have an appointment with Professor Dippet, Sir. He told me to come to his office after class ends, but I don't know where his office is."
Professor Flitwick smiled. "I see. No problem, I will escort you there."
We were walking through the castle, and I was never really sure whether the hallways were all familiar to me or entirely new territory, but after a few minutes, we came to a halt in front of a giant eagle statue.
Professor Flitwick said, "Caput Draconis," after which the statue turned to the side and revealed a staircase that looked like it was constantly screwing itself up, but it was unclear to me from where it came or where it was going. I stepped closer to the staircase and turned around to Professor Flitwick, who just gave me an approving nod. Then I stepped onto the stairs.
Professor Dippet was leafing through an atrociously old-looking book with great interest when I entered his office. The room's walls were filled to the brim with portraits of late witches and wizards, watching the Headmaster, sleeping in their frame, or talking to each other. Some of the frames were also just empty. The room was round, so I assumed it to be situated in one of the castle's many towers. On the desk in front of Dippet were many more books that looked just as old as the one he was reading, and scattered all throughout the room were a bunch of peculiar measuring instruments that I had never seen before and wouldn't even know what kind of information they could give me, lest how to extract it from them.
I cleared my throat and nervously played with the hem of my sweater. Finally, Dippet looked up from his book. His lips were smiling, and I very much had the impression he wanted to appear friendly and trustworthy to me, but that smile didn't reach his eyes and thus gave away his true intentions. He was worried.
"Good afternoon, Noel," he said.
Never before had I heard anyone pronounce my name so ... correctly.
"Good afternoon, Professor," I replied.
"I appreciate you taking the time to come and visit me. How was your first day of classes?" he asked me.
I considered telling him about the Potions disaster, about Professor Slughorn's obvious disappointment in me, about being unsure of telling my friends I was a Guardian, about the danger I might pose to them and the entire school one day.
"It was really nice, Sir," I said instead.
"Ach ... that's nice to hear." Professor Dippet didn't seem to like he fully believed in what I said, but he didn't probe further.
"But as you can imagine," he then continued, "this is not why I asked you to come to my office after the first day of classes."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Noel, you're a Guardian. I know that. There's no need to hide it from me. You're registered with the Ministry, and on the list of new students I receive each year, these things have to be included - for the safety."
I broke out in cold sweat. The secret I had tried to keep so close to me that sometimes even I forgot about its existence was out there for everybody to see. Someone put the word Guardian next to my name, not thinking anything about it probably, not understanding how that one word could ruin my entire life.
"There are a few things I would like to ask you. Would that be alright with you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. After all, there was nothing left to hide if the most critical secret was already out.
"Yes, Sir, go ahead," I said quietly.
"As I understand, you're living with a couple, one part of which is also a Guardian."
"My mother," I said and nodded.
"As you wish," he smiled, "and your ... father?"
He seemed to be having issues using this word for Carl.
"He's her person," I explained.
Professor Dippet started taking notes now. I was getting worried. Was this a kind of interrogation to determine whether I was safe enough to continue going to Hogwarts? What on earth did I do wrong?
"Do your friends and peers know what you truly are?"
There it was. The question. Dippet's eyes were fixated on me with such intensity that it felt like his gaze was pushing me into the backrest of the chair I was sitting on. There was no escaping.
"No, Sir, they do not," I said and tried sounding as firm as possible. "And I don't intend on telling them."
"Telling the truth early on can save us from much suffering, Noel. What do you think would happen if they knew?"
"What do I think would change? What about goddamn everything?" I wanted to just think these two sentences, not blurt them out, but here we were. I had blurted them out anyway. "They would be afraid of me, they would be afraid that one of them was my person, and nothing I said could make their doubt go away fully; they'd constantly wonder how much more time we had until I would commit murder because of them. What would change is that they'd no longer want to be my friends."
Professor Dippet swallowed hard.
"And who is your person, if I may ask that?" he said in the calmest tone I had ever heard anyone talk in, and I wasn't sure whether he just ignored me lashing out at him or whether he actually didn't care.
I took a deep breath. "I don't know, Sir."
"Anyway, let me know if you do. I'm sure we will find a solution for you when the time has come."
With these words, he guided me out of his office, and I was left alone, overwhelmed, and more than a bit confused in the empty hallway.