It was midnight.
A storm was brewing;
fierce wind whipped branches of trees into a frenzy. Christiane
tore through the forest, her lungs burning. Thunder sounded in
the
darkness; rain began to fall on the forest floor. Then, not too
far away, a rustling... and...
Christiane snapped awake. What was that dream? Why did it seem so real? She looked up into the thick canopy that hung over her four-poster; there came a muffled cough from outside the bed-hangings.
Christiane sat up and pushed through the curtains. Hayley, in the bed next to her, was sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"Are you up yet?" A girl with a long auburn braid and a pair of silver-framed glasses was kneeling at her trunk across the dormitory.
"Sure," Christiane shrugged, standing up and moving to her own trunk, which had somehow found its way to the end of her bed. She pulled out a change of clothes and a hairbrush.
"Today's our first day for classes, isn't it?" Hayley mumbled, as she rummaged around for a pair of socks.
"Yes, September first," said the bespectacled girl, who would not let herself be ignored. "What's your name? I'm Gwendolyn, but people call me Gwen."
Christiane and Hayley introduced
themselves. By the time they were dressed, another student on
Hayley's side had awakened; Celaera Sorden. She had smooth
black hair and almond-shaped eyes, and bustled around the room
as though she were running a marathon.
Once Christiane's hair had been shoved into a ponytail, she shouldered her bag and followed the other girls down through the common room and into the corridor. They followed Amanda Prewett, the fifth-year prefect, down a narrow corridor and into a wide hall.
"The Great Hall's that way," Amanda pointed. "Just through this corridor, down the stairs, then turn left, right, left, down the stairs, through the tapestry, then turn right, and across the hall."
Hayley, and Christiane gaped at each other, but Amanda had already left them and was hurrying down another corridor, giggling.
"That little..." Celaera began angrily.
"Guess she thinks that's funny," Christiane shrugged. "Well, which way first?"
"Down here, I think,"
said Hayley, pointing ahead. They started off, their footsteps
strangely muffled on the carpet. They reached the spiral staircase
that
led from Gryffindor Tower and hurried down it. At the bottom,
Celaera suddenly tripped and crashed down the last three steps,
the contents of her bag flying through the air.
Something cackled in midair.
"Ow!" Celaera cried, pulling herself to her feet.
"Peeves," Hayley muttered.
"Huh?"
"He's a poltergeist, I think," Hayley explained. She stepped forward and clutched the rail; her shoelaces were tied together. Christiane could barely speak for laughing.
"A poltergeist?" Gwendolyn repeated. "Well, that means he can become invisible...he should like to pester people, make noise..."
"No, really?"
said Celaera sarcastically, pushing her books back into her bag.
Peeves, still invisible, could be heard swooping down the hallway,
knocking portraits
of famous witches and wizards off of the walls.
"Alright," Christiane
spoke up, once they had collected themselves. "Which way
are we supposed to go?"
"Uh..."
"Left," said Gwen, pointing at an open archway. Everyone else shrugged and followed her through.
However, Gwen's recovery didn't make much difference. In less than ten minutes, Celaera declared them all lost.
"We are not," said Hayley nervously.
Gwen looked about quickly. "That door, right there...that should take us to the Great Hall."
Christiane pushed it open. They walked into a circular room with a high, domed ceiling. Thousands of ticking noises seemed to surround them; the walls were covered with hundreds of clocks, gold clocks with half a dozen hands, silver clocks only with numbers and designs carved on them, a few cuckoo clocks, talking clocks that chattered loudly, clocks in different languages, clocks with rotating planets around the edges...
"That prefect didn't say anything about this," said Celaera.
"That prefect didn't say much about anything," Christiane put in.
"What's all this for, anyway?" Hayley asked, to no one in particular.
"Arithmancy, perhaps," said Gwen, looking around in astonishment.
"Well, it won't do us much good for getting breakfast," said Christiane with contempt. "I don't want to be wandering around all morning."
Gwen threw up her hands
and left. Hayley and Celaera shrugged and followed Christiane
out of the room, across the corridor, and down another staircase,
leaving Gwendolyn behind.
Then, a few minutes later...
"Wait! Wait!"
"That's Gwen," said Hayley. They climbed the stairs again; Gwen's voice was coming from an empty classroom to their left.
Christiane peered in. Gwen was talking to a bluish figure, floating about a desk.
"What the..." Celaera began.
"It's our ghost," said Gwen excitedly. "The Gryffindor ghost, anyhow. Er...Sir Nicholas, I mean..."
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," said the ghost regally, bowing to them. "I heard you may be in a spot of trouble?"
"We're trying to find our way to the Great Hall," said Christiane.
"Ah, yes," said
the ghost. "Nearly time for classes, isn't it? Well, you're
pretty far off...out this door and down that staircase, keep to
the corridors on your
left. I daresay you'll make it in time..."
"Thank you," said Christiane quickly. All four girls dashed out of the classroom, waving over their shoulders.
By the time they reached the Great Hall, most students had already left for their first classes. Christiane, Hayley, Celaera, and Gwen ate their toast and bacon as fast as they could, and were the last ones to run down the corridor, looking for the Transfiguration classroom.
Professor McGonagall was less than pleased when they walked in late.
"Tardiness is inexcusable," she said sternly. "Four points from Gryffindor; have a seat."
Christiane collapsed into a desk, dropping her bag onto the floor.
"Transfiguration is
a complicated technique," said Professor McGonagall to the
class, "that can only be mastered through discipline and
learning. Anyone
misbehaving in my class will be thrown out. This is your warning."
Professor McGonagall then pulled out her wand and changed the iron chandelier into a pumpkin; after it crashed onto the ground, she turned it back into a chandelier, which flew up towards the ceiling. Christiane couldn't wait to transfigure something, anything; but first Professor McGonagall made them take notes, practice holding their wands, and demonstrated how to wave them in the correct fashion. By the time class was over, Christiane's fingers were nearly numb.
"Potions is next," Hayley murmured, looking over her schedule. "We'll have Professor Snape as a teacher...Michael says he's pretty bad..."
"We have class with
the Slytherins?" Christiane interrupted. She took Hayley's
slightly crumpled schedule and smoothed it out. "Yes, we'll
get to see
Madeline!"
"I don't want to be late," said Celaera, who was just leaving the classroom. "Come on, let's hurry."
Potions was held in what
seemed to be the deepest, dankest dungeon of the castle. Even
so, Christiane, Celaera, Hayley, and Gwen, who had caught up with
them, were the first ones in the classroom. Professor Snape,
a sallow-skinned, hook-nosed teacher in black robes, was seated
at a desk. Christiane paired up with Hayley, and Celaera with
Gwen; they all sat around tall tables that were scattered around
the classroom.
Students started filing
into the classroom. The Crockford twins and the other Gryffindor
boys were first; some unfamiliar Slytherins followed, Madeline
amongst them.
Christiane waved. Madeline smiled and headed towards them.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Oh, fine," said
Christiane. "Come on, sit down..."
Professor Snape cleared his throat, stood up, and looked
around the classroom with his cold black eyes. He fixed them
momentarily on Christiane; she felt a
shiver run down her spine.
"Potions," said
Snape softly. "Most of you do not understand the joy that
truly great wizards find in poisons, medicines, transfigural concoctions...you
can gain power, lose health, and even prolong life with the contents
of one
small glass vial..."
Professor Snape held up a tiny vial of glowing potion. The class gaped at it.
"This, however," said Professor Snape, his voice rising a bit, "is a simple illumination potion, which you will all be learning to make today." He curled his fingers around the vial. It disappeared.
Christiane and Hayley exchanged looks. But now Professor Snape was pointing out various bottles of ingredients that were kept in cupboards around the dungeon.
As Christiane listened to Professor Snape's instructions, she leaned over to whisper to Madeline, on the pretense of checking the blue fire that was blazing under her cauldron. "So, how are you?"
"Good," Madeline replied. "Everyone in my house is alright. A bit odd, but...alright. Not like the way people talk about them."
"Were your mum and dad in Slytherin?" Christiane asked.
"Er..." Madeline shifted uncomfortably. "My parents never went to Hogwarts."
"But weren't they wizards?"
"Mix the pond slime with your chopped roots," Professor Snape called. "Add both to the cauldron, but only after the water has come to a boil..."
Christiane cast a quizzical glance at Madeline, but she had already turned back to her potion. Christiane shrugged and dumped the roots that Hayley had just chopped into the cauldron. The latter began to bubble furiously and slosh all over the table.
By lunchtime, Christiane was exhausted.
"I didn't think there would be so much work," she told Hayley and Celaera, over their beef stew. "Primary school was nothing like this."
"I think it's all wonderful," Gwen protested.
Christiane half-listened to Gwen's enthusiastic recollection of their previous Charms lesson -- "That levitational spell sounds terrific" -- but overheard another conversation that was vastly more interesting.
"...flying lessons on Friday," one of the Crockford twins was telling his brother.
"It's no use if we're not getting on the house team, first years never do."
"We're not even supposed to have our own broomsticks."
"Are we really taking flying lessons?" Christiane interrupted.
"End of this week, actually," said Adam...or was it Aaron?
"Do you two fly?"
"Fly!" The boy nearest Christiane looked highly affronted. He turned to his twin. "Adam?"
"We've been messing with brooms since we could walk," Adam explained. "You?"
"Ah..." Christine flushed. "I'd love to, but my mum and dad are both...they don't understand." She grinned.
"Well, we've got our Nimbuses with us," Adam whispered. "In --"
"Shhh!" Aaron hissed. "Do you want everyone to hear?"
Christiane laughed. "Really? So, I know you're Adam and Aaron...but who is who?"
"I'm Adam," said the twin who sat the farthest from her.
"And I'm Aaron," said the other.
"You can't tell us apart, so don't even try."
"No, that's not true," Aaron said. "I'm the better-looking one."
"Yeah, right!"
The bell rang, and Christiane left them to it. She caught up with Hayley outside the Great Hall, and they were off to History of Magic.
Professor Binns, the History teacher, gave his class a fright when he first entered the room through the blackboard -- for he was a ghost, and as far as Christiane was concerned, his lesson plan hadn't changed much from those of the past.
He started the class by reeling off a score of dates, which everyone scribbled nervously onto their parchment. However, Professor Binns soon settled into a steady drone, and Christiane soon dropped her quill and sat, staring blankly, at the silvery form that floated before them.
After her first classes were over, Christiane headed up to the common room and finished the work that Professor McGonagall had given them.
"Homework on the first day!" Celaera complained loudly, as she completed her notes with an angry flourish.
"Well, it's not all bad," Christiane protested. "We have flying lessons on Friday..."
"Oh, no," Hayley moaned.
"...and I'll definitely be going to that," Christiane finished.
Friday afternoon approached slowly. Christiane was also taking
Astronomy, in which the class stargazed at midnight; Herbology,
where they dug and planted under Professor Beltane's watchful
eye; and Defense Against the Dark Arts, in which Professor Lepid
had instructed them on the dangers of kelpies.
All in all, Christiane was glad to reach the end of the week.
After they had finished stripping Descenweeds in Herbology, Christiane nearly skipped the the Quidditch pitch, dragging Hayley behind her. A few Gryffindors and Slytherins - whom they would be learning with - were already waiting on the field.
"We all...have to fly?" Hayley quavered, looking pale. But Christiane wasn't listening; she was already ogling the twenty broomsticks that were lying on the grass, even though they were only old Falling Stars.
When Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, arrived on the pitch, the students positioned themselves alongside the brooms.
"Now," Madam Hooch began, "we will try picking up our brooms. Hold your - no, Everett, put that down - hold your hands out over your broom and say, 'up!'"
"Up!" Christiane shouted with the rest of the class. Her broom shot up into her hands.
They practiced mounting their brooms, gripping the handles, and kicking off - Christiane laughed out loud at the exhilarating feeling of flight gripped her stomach. After that, the students tried a bit of turning, and even a few dives. Christiane was enjoying herself so much that she barely heard Hayley's frightened gasp.
Christiane wheeled around. Hayley was gripping her broomstick, which was vibrating wildly, with white knuckles.
Christiane quickly fell back and grabbed Hayley's broom handle, holding it steady. Luckily, the broom stopped jerking violently; Hayley was spluttering her thanks when someone smacked into Christiane.
It was all she could do to hold on to her broom; Christiane looked about, and her eyes rested on Derek Smailes.
"You seem to enjoy bumping into people, Charmont," he said.
But Christiane was not threatened; only angry. She opened her mouth to say something, but one of the Crockford twins, swooping by, intervened.
"Never thought anyone would pick a fight with a girl," Aaron called.
Derek glowered, but Christiane only rolled her eyes.
At Madam Hooch's whistle, Christiane reluctantly followed Hayley back to the ground. The students dismounted their brooms, and Hayley happily dropped hers onto the growing pile.
"Not bad, for a first lesson," Madam Hooch was saying. "Next session's in two weeks...looks like we'll have some potential Quidditch players this year."
Christiane was beaming as she headed back towards the castle alongside Celaera, who was grinning; Gwen, who was ecstatic; and Hayley, who looked relieved to be back on the ground.
"That was great!" Christiane exclaimed. "Wouldn't it be great to get on the Quidditch team?"
"Maybe," Hayley shrugged. "Michael says that most first years..."
"Where is Michael, anyway?" Christiane asked. "He hasn't been crowing around all week."
"Um..." Hayley frowned. "I haven't seen him either, actually...different houses and all."
"But hasn't he talked to you at all?" Gwen asked.
"No," Hayley said flatly. Christiane and Gwen looked at each other, over Hayley's head.
They were all quiet as they crossed
the grounds to Hogwarts Castle.