Beth drifted out of sleep into a world that was still dark. She yawned and stretched, then rolled over and lay there for several minutes, unwilling to leave her warm bed. She could hear the birds chirping, even though it was so early --
She sat bolt-upright in bed. It was only dark because she had the canopies drawn! Wrenching open the curtains around her bed, she fell out in a tangle as she realized that she was the only one left in her dormitory.
Oversleeping on the first day! she thought in despair, as she threw on her school robes, splashed water in her face and made a few hopeless passes at her blonde mane of hair. Five frenzied minutes later, she was tearing down the corridor with her bookbag bouncing on her back. She reeled into the Great Hall and saw with relief that breakfast was still going on. She drew a deep breath and joined Bruce and Melissa at the Slytherin table.
"Where were you?" demanded Bruce. He sat behind a huge pile of kippers and was eating as if he'd never seen scrambled eggs before.
"Overslept. Why didn't you wake me up?" Beth turned on Melissa, who was bent over the class schedule that lay open on the table beside her.
"Sorry, I thought you'd get up for yourself," Melissa sniffed, offended. "Besides, I hate waking you up, you're so cranky in the morning. Here, Professor Snape came through with your schedule already." She handed Beth her schedule with one hand and daintily picked at her porridge with the other. "We have Potions and Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors again. They're like a curse."
"Godric Gryffindor's parting shot to Salazar Slytherin," Beth agreed. She picked out a few of the crisper-looking slices of bacon before looking over her schedule. It included Charms, Transfiguration, Divination, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures, as well as her favorite classes, Potions and Arithmancy. "Thanks for picking this up. I don't know if Snape ever forgave me for making him come to get Rich and me in London last year."
"A word, Miss Parson?"
Beth looked up and found herself face-to-face with Professor Snape, head of the Slytherin house and Hogwarts potions master. "Uh -- all right," said Beth nervously. Snape moved away, so she stood up and followed him a few feet away from the table. There she stood, anxiously twisting her schedule, wondering if she was going to get yelled at again for something she'd done three months ago.
However, the glower that Snape wore was no worse than his usual expression, and Beth even detected a hint of excitement behind his cold, dark eyes. "Your aptitude in Arithmancy and Potions has not gone unnoticed," he began.
Pleasantly surprised, Beth felt her cheeks grow warm.
"It's not often that students choose to follow up in both fields, but this year there are several, yourself included. Over the summer, Professor Vector and I have worked to put together a course on the relationship between our classes. Basic Alchemy. It's not important for those who only intend to use or alter potions, but it's vital to those who wish to go on to create them. Headmaster Dumbledore himself is considered an expert alchemist, and fully approves of the project. Your course background makes you eligible to take the class. Are you interested?"
Misinterpreting her hesitation, he added, "It will take the place of one of your elective courses."
"Sounds good," said Beth, still a little surprised. "Can I drop Divination?"
Professor Snape's thin lips came together in a mild expression of amusement. "Excellent choice."
"Great!" she said, more enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'd love to take it. When's it meet?"
"Wednesdays, starting this week," Professor Snape said. "You'll report to room seven thirty-five at eleven o'clock today. I will have a new schedule prepared for you by tomorrow morning. Without Divination," he added with a smile. "I look forward to having you in class, Miss Parson. I trust you will make the most of it."
He swept away, to leave Beth standing in the Great Hall, beaming like it was her birthday.
"What did he want?" inquired Melissa, as Beth came back to her seat beet-red and smiling.
She explained the class excitedly. Melissa looked mildly jealous that she had been passed over for an academic honor, but recognized that she was ineligible without Arithmancy. Bruce, buried in his breakfast, was unimpressed.
"So you get to take another impossibly hard course?" he demanded, his mouth full of kippers. "I reckon you're right, Beth -- Snape is still mad at you for last year."
Beth stuck her tongue out at him. Then for good measure she threw her napkin at him too.
"Bletchley, hope you've been practicing!" a deep voice boomed over them. Marcus Flint, captain of the Quidditch team, came up and pounded Bruce on the shoulder in a gesture of masculine camaraderie. He was large and bulky, but Beth knew from watching him fly that it was all muscle. His grades were abysmal -- in fact, he was repeating his sixth year after failing the year before -- but he'd led the Slytherins to victory in the past four consecutive seasons.
"Every day," Bruce promised eagerly. Beth noted with some amusement how Bruce's voice deepened when he was around the other players.
The flutter of wings filled the hall as a flock of mail-carrying owls swarmed through the high windows, bearing packages and letters to the students. A largish package landed farther down the table in front of Draco Malfoy (sweets from home, no doubt; that boy had a larger collection of chocolate than anyone else Slytherin, but he was still the smallest boy in his grade). Another dropped near Aaron Pucey, a few seats down from Beth. He dug into it eagerly -- then his face fell. "It's my schoolbooks," he said, disappointed. "I thought my parents wouldn't notice this year." Their job finished, the owls flocked away as quickly as they had come.
"So Bletchley, we need to talk --" Marcus began, but he was interrupted by an unearthly commotion from the Gryffindor table. The sound of a thousand mothers all giving their loudest, most furious lectures echoed through the hall and totally drowned out everything else. Beth put her fingers in her ears and cringed, although she could still make out the gist of the cries: "YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU!"
Melissa, holding her hands over her ears beside Beth, was actually grinning. "Someone got a Howler," she mouthed. They looked back to see who it was, but either the culprit was good at keeping a straight face or was hiding under the table.
"... WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!!!" The tirade ended on a ringing note and fell off, leaving the hall in complete silence. Laughing, the students uncovered their ears and went back to eating.
"It was the little Weasley!" Melissa reported excitedly, twisted all the way around in her seat. "Look, he's blushing!"
"Oh no," said Beth, looking at the Gryffindor table, "Potter's back."
"Yeah! Did you hear what he did last night?" Beth shook her head. "Him and the little Weasley drove a flying car into the Whomping Willow! They've been telling the story all over the place, you must have just missed it! Is Professor Sprout ever mad," she added, with a glint in her eye.
The bell to start classes rang, and everyone stood up and started to gather their things. "I'll be there in a minute, I need to see Marcus," Bruce called after them hastily, as Beth and Melissa started toward Care of Magical Creatures. He and Marcus walked away slowly, heads bent together. Around them, confused first-years milled in packs, wondering which way to go. Riggs bore down on them like a thin, fussy bat and started pointing and talking as quickly as he could.
The Care of Magical Creatures classroom was decorated in horns, eggshells, skins, and bones of all kinds of fantastic beasts. Bruce claimed that the stuff in there was worth the entire Potions storeroom. Beth didn't know about that, but it made for something interesting to look at when class started to drag. Not that this was a problem -- Professor Kettleburn, bald, boisterous, and rugged, liked keeping students on their toes.
"The last thing I need is Gryffindors first thing in the morning," Melissa murmured to Beth, as they took seats side by side. On the opposite part of the room, the Gryffindors were hunched together in a suspicious little knot. "I don't trust it when they all huddle like that."
"At least they're not making nasty remarks yet," Beth muttered back.
Bruce dashed into class and took his seat behind Melissa and beside Aaron Pucey. He looked troubled. "That lousy Oliver Wood booked the Quidditch field for Saturday morning," he said in a low voice, leaning in to their group of four. "He's going to start them practicing already. Marcus was going to get it for tryouts but it was already taken. He's going to see if Snape can get the Gryffindors kicked out by mid-morning at least, but that means we have to move up the tryouts to this afternoon if we want to get started before them."
Aaron's eyes lit up as they only did when in the presence of two Bludgers and a Quaffle. "This afternoon!" he repeated, both excited and frustrated. "We just got here!"
"Right, so pass it on." Bruce sat back in his seat as Professor Kettleburn strode into the room and slammed the door behind him.
Professor Kettleburn was, at first glance, an intimidating man. A lacework of scars proved his extensive experience with fantastic creatures of all kinds. He was completely bald and his face was hastily shaved, giving him a perpetually grizzled look. His most unusual feature, however, was the fact that his left hand had been lost and replaced with a wooden cylinder that held his wand in its place. The rumor was that he had lost the hand to a manticore in the Middle East. His height and bearing only added to the impression that he was used to having his orders followed.
"Good morning!" he barked, throwing a battered textbook down on the desk before him. "Glad to see you all. Sort of hoped you'd be in two different sections this year, but very well ..."
That actually aroused a nervous laugh. The Gryffindors and Slytherins, traditional enemies, had regularly fought in class for the entire previous year. Beth and her friends had, in fact, taken on the Weasleys and Jordan in February.
Kettleburn leaned over the table toward them, his voice a low growl. "We've got a fair bit to cover this year ... Dumbledore's asked me to do some work on beings, along with the beasts. Merfolk, centaurs, werewolves, all that sort. Right, so we'll be studying in here for a week or so. Centaurs!" he barked, and nearly everyone jumped. "Who's ever met 'em?"
Only a few students raised their hands, Melissa included.
"Lucky, they're a secretive lot. There's a fair few in the Forbidden Forest, but darned if they every show their faces to us humans. Quills out!" he growled, and everyone jumped again.
The class scrambled to get out their supplies. The rest of the class was spent taking notes on the habits of centaurs, a strangely fascinating subject. Still, it was unlike Kettleburn to spend a whole period solely on lecture, and Beth was relieved when the bell rang to change classes.
Her relief faded as she realized it was time for her first Alchemy class.
The classroom was seven flights up and at the end of a narrow, abandoned hallway. Up there the crowds were thinner; she was the only one in the corridor when she finally made it to the classroom. She checked the room number (twice) to make sure she was in the right place; then, drawing a breath, went in.
Three students were already there. She recognized Cedric Diggory, the handsome but lackluster Hufflepuff, but the other two -- a girl with curly hair and a round-faced boy -- were strangers. They all looked older than her, even though she knew Diggory was in the same year that she was. Self-conscious, Beth sat a bit apart from them.
Cedric looked around. "This isn't it, is it, Steb?"
The round-faced boy shook his head. "Can't be. They wouldn't have two professors for four students. Ruddy inefficient."
"Professor Vector told me there were twenty-three on the rolls," said the curly-haired girl. Her uniform indicated that she was a Ravenclaw, and she wore the silver badge of a prefect. "All different years."
They all looked back at Beth. She nervously grinned back.
Gradually the classroom filled up. The Ravenclaw girl had been right: there were representatives from every house, and from every year from fourth up. Soon Professors Vector and Snape came in together, Snape tall and looming, Vector pudgy and effusive. Vector was levitating a large stack of books in front of her.
"All right now, come up an' get your textbooks," she crooned, her Scottish accent as quirky as ever. "We'll get 'em to ye all on loan, I know ye hadn't the chance ta purchase 'em. Just keep 'em in one piece for the year, that's a good sort." She let the books fall on the desk. "One at a time now, no shovin'."
The textbooks, A Brief Introduction to Alchemy by Nicolas Flamel, were battered and dog-eared. Beth opened hers and a cloud of dust billowed out of it. When they all had their books and were back in their seats, Professor Snape swept to the front of the room. There was a rustling as everyone got out their quills and parchments.
"I trust," he began softly, "that everyone in this room is by now well aware of the expectations of Professor Vector and myself. You have all proven your aptitude in both the fine art of potions and the exact reasoning required of arithmancy. You will need those skills here -- and some measure of adaptability as well."
Some measure of adaptability, Beth wrote on her paper.
"That being said, let's start with a riddle of sorts. If you wanted to mix a basic shrinking spell, Stebbins, but you had no rat liver, how would you proceed?"
The round-faced boy looked up at him. "I -- might replace it with an ingredient I had on hand."
"Like what?" pressed Snape.
"Well -- some goats' whiskers might work -- I remember we made that replacement once in class."
"Excellent. Five points to Hufflepuff. Now, does anyone know why that would work?" The curly-haired girl raised her hand. "Miss Clearwater?"
"Their properties are the same?"
"A close guess. Or perhaps I should say: what exactly makes them interchangeable?"
No one else ventured a guess. What makes them interchangeable? wrote Beth.
"And what ratio would one use in a replacement brew?"
Still no answer.
Professor Vector beamed at them. "That's what we're gonna teach ye, then. Ye'll have Professor Snape every other class and for your lab practical. First one's next Wednesday, don't go fergettin' your cauldrons. Books open to page three, I'll start you off with some theory."
Professor Snape made a slight bow to her, and left her to teach the first lesson.
Beth's head started swimming about halfway through the lecture and didn't stop until Professor Vector announced, "That's homework problems, odd numbers, one to twenty-three in chapter one. No copyin', they're due Monday. Have ye a good weekend, dears."
They stumbled out of class, feeling laden.
"This is going to be impossible," the Hufflepuff, Stebbins, moaned on the way out. "Why did we do it, Penny?"
"We're idiots," said the curly-haired girl. "I've got two Snape classes this year. I must have been asleep when I scheduled."
"I must have been drugged," said Cedric Diggory. Beth found herself thinking that the class would be a lot less scary if she, too, had someone to joke with about how hard it was going to be.
The fourth-years met up again at lunch, after their morning classes were over.
"Going to come watch the Quidditch trials?" asked Bruce, with his mouth full of beef stroganoff.
Beth shook her head. "I wish I could. We got loads of homework off Alchemy. Twelve problems. It's going to be a beast. There are all kinds of upperclassmen in the class too, and I think only two or three Slytherins. I've got to work this afternoon."
"Well, at least the common room will be quiet. Every boy in Slytherin is going to be trying out for Seeker."
Melissa bristled. "Why does it have to be a boy? Can't a girl play Seeker?"
Bruce looked up at her, amazed. "Well, sure -- I guess -- but I can't remember the last time there was a girl on the Slytherin team."
Interrupting hastily, Beth said, "Marcus wouldn't keep someone out just because she's a girl. The trials are totally impartial. Right, Bruce?"
Bruce nodded, but Melissa let out a humph that clearly indicated her disbelief.
"Going to come watch, Melissa?" Aaron Pucey asked, sliding into place beside them. He had apparently gotten out of Muggle Studies late.
"If you're allowing girls near the field," Melissa replied scathingly.
Aaron balked. "Uh -- yeah --" he stammered, scooping some stroganoff. "It's going to be packed this year, with the Seeker position open and all," he said, moving his focus to Beth. "I've been practicing all summer. Adrian's been helping me with my flying." Aaron's big brother had been on the Quidditch team for years as a star Chaser.
"I ... thought Madame Pomfrey said you wouldn't have the grip to play, after last year," Beth said carefully.
Aaron shrugged. "I don't, really, but I've been working with the other hand. All this one has to do is hang on to my broom." He waggled the fingers of his right hand; they moved a little too slowly and stiffly.
"Just make sure it does," Beth said severely. "Get hurt again, and who knows how you'll end up."
"It's worth it, to be on the team a year," said Aaron, and the sudden fervency that swept over his face was frightening.
Afterward Beth went back to the common room with her Alchemy book. Everyone else had gone down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the trials -- it was almost as good as a real game -- so the common room was empty and quiet. She opened her book to the first set of homework.
"How many ounces of asphodel would it take to replace one gram of crushed unicorn hoof?" she read aloud, carefully copying the problem over to her parchment. "I don't know, Mr. Nicolas Flamel, why don't you tell me?" She leafed back to chapter one and started browsing for an answer.
It turned out to be harder than it looked. First she had to figure out what kind of question it was; then find out what it was asking for; then find an equation for it; and finally, look up the properties of both substances in the extensive tables in the back of the book. It took almost twenty minutes to do the first problem. She finished it triumphantly ... then groaned.
"Eleven more to go."
She was only through the first five when the doors of the common room burst open and students started piling in, clamoring excitedly.
"Quidditch trials are over," she muttered to herself, and hunched down in her chair.
The chattering students swarmed around the common room. Beth could barely pick out their conversations: "... give him a few years ..." "Did you see that snag, though?" "Pucey looked disappointed."
Oh no, thought Beth, Aaron didn't make it again. She grinned wistfully. He'd be in a bad mood for months.
Melissa and Bruce came in and fought their way to the crowd. "Guess what!" squealed Melissa, just as Beth was saying, "How was it?"
Bruce was grinning from ear to ear. "Made Keeper again. It's Marcus, Uther, and Adrian back as Chasers -- all returning -- they're stellar, the lot of them. We're almost all returning players."
"What about the Seeker?" asked Beth. "He'll be new."
Bruce rolled his eyes a bit. "New's the word for it."
Melissa elbowed him. "Don't be snide," she ordered. "It was phenomenal. He's little, he's fast, he's got a good eye, and he's going to be with us for years. A second-year actually beat out everybody else for Seeker."
"Who is it?" said Beth impatiently.
"Draco Malfoy." Melissa looked as proud as if he was her own little brother. "I told you he'd amount to something. Didn't I? Right at his Sorting last year. It was incredible. About three of them saw the Snitch at the same time -- him, Aaron and that Derrick kid -- and they all go barreling toward it ..."
"Aaron knocked a kid off his broom," Bruce added. "Fell at least ten feet. He's got a broken ankle. So they're all getting close ... the crowd's on its feet ... Draco's ahead, and Derrick's behind, him, so --"
"So what's Draco do, but kick Derrick in the arm!" Melissa squealed delightedly. "Derrick goes spinning out of control, hits Aaron, they both go crashing to the ground, and Draco grabs the Snitch in a twenty-foot climb! Incredible bit of flying!"
Beth laughed in disbelief. "And Marcus didn't have a problem with the fact that he fouled out the other two to win?"
"Nope, it was the other way around," said Bruce with a grin. "He was thrilled. Probably hopes he'll do that to Potter. So we've a new Seeker. Hope he does us good."
"He will," said Melissa staunchly. "Mark my words."
Beth shook her head. "I wish I'd been there."
"Me too."
Aaron Pucey had come up behind Bruce. He was a mess. His shirt was smeared with mud, and there was blood all over his face; it seemed to have sprung from his nose.
Beth's mouth fell open. "What happened to you?" she asked, and realized immediately that she could have been more tactful. Then she realized that Aaron didn't look upset: in fact, he was smiling.
"Took a Bludger to the face," he said, looking down at his feet. "Marcus reckons my nose isn't broken. It bled a fair bit, though."
"That's not the whole story," scoffed Bruce. "He took a Bludger to the face and kept on playing. He took out everybody except Warrington in the Beater trials, and you know Warrington's massive. Marcus was doubly impressed."
"So, wait," said Beth, with growing delight. "You made Beater?"
Aaron nodded humbly.
"Congratulations!"
He smiled, looking shy.
"It's going to be a tough year," he said softly. "I'd better go get cleaned off."
Aaron turned and went to his dormitory, muddy, bloody, and grinning from ear to ear.
He was still grinning the next morning.
"I can't wait for the season to start," he babbled excitedly, on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. All shyness at his position had worn off; now he couldn't stop talking about it. "We're going to kill 'em. Marcus is a genius, and I've seen some of his new defense strategies -- you know, all the defensive players are fourth-years --" Here he elbowed Bruce hard in the ribs, who clutched his chest and glared back. "And Draco's going to be a crack Seeker. You should see how the kid flies --"
"I was there, Aaron," said Bruce through gritted teeth.
Undaunted, Aaron went on. "It's going to be a super year. We've got seven great guys --"
Melissa whirled on him. "Seven guys, do you?" she snapped. "Better than six guys and a girl, isn't it? Better to keep the team untainted, right?"
Aaron gaped at her. "Uh -- well not necessarily -- I mean after all --"
"Go on, say it."
"Well, we are bigger than the other teams --"
It was the worst thing he could have said. Melissa stormed off, flipping her long black hair behind her. Aaron turned to Beth in amazement.
"What's she on about?"
"Women's lib. Come on, you can apologize in class."
He never got the chance. Melissa remained tight-lipped through Transfiguration, and afterward they parted ways to go to their elective classes. Aaron and Bruce were still in Herbology; Mervin and Melissa had taken Ancient Runes; Beth was in Arithmancy, the only Slytherin in her grade. She sat alone in a classroom full of Ravenclaws and tried to follow Professor Vector, the arithmancy witch, describing the difference between real and imaginary numbers. Things were all right until a boy in the back asked if they were imaginary numbers, why they counted at all, and after that Professor Vector became irritable.
"Why d' they count?" she snorted in disbelief. "They're numbers, Davies. They always count."
"But if they're fake --" Roger Davies protested.
Mercifully, the bell rang before the argument got out of hand, but that didn't stop Professor Vector from assigning them an essay.
"Five hundred words on the value of imaginary numbers," she snapped, as they filed out the door. "Make it good, Davies."
Roger Davies shook his head. "I'm not in Arithmancy because I like to write essays," he muttered to one of his Ravenclaw friends. "I like to solve problems. With numbers. Real ones."
Beth had to agree.