Chapter 3: Classes Begin
* * *
"I can't believe they chose her to be our new teacher," Ron yawned from his four-poster later that night.
"Oh get over it, Ron. You know you like her," but this reply was worth nothing, as Ron was fast asleep.
* * *
Next morning, Harry woke up and walked to the Great Hall alone. He found Ron and Hermione eating toast at the Gryffindor table, and sat down beside them.
"We got our schedules. Here's yours," Ron muttered, handing Harry his schedule. He looked at it, chewing some toast as he read. He had Potions, Divination, and Defence Against the Dark Arts today. He looked down the table and saw Ginny, who was looking at her schedule sadly. She saw him and mouthed the words, "I've History of Magic first." Harry nodded understandingly. He knew all too well how boring that class was.
"Oh no! We have Divination with the Slytherins first!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione grinned smugly. "Shut up Hermione. I didn't ask you."
"I have Muggle Studies. I'll bet you wish you were taking it now, don't you Ron?" she asked.
"N-no! No I don't!" he lied.
Harry stood up.
"Where're you going, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"To the Common Room," he said quickly, running out of the Hall. He didn't think he could stand Hermione and Ron's fuss anymore. When got to the Fat Lady, he paused. What's the password? he asked himself.
"Something the matter, dear?" she asked.
"Rictusempra," Harry said quickly, remembering at just the right moment.
"That's the ticket, dear," she said cheerfully, swinging open to reveal the portrait hole. He walked up to his dormitory, plopping down on his bed.
* * *
Harry looked at his watch. He'd lain there for thirty minutes. He got up and walked out of the common room quickly. He had to get to Divination! He climbed the golden ladder in silence, dreading walking into the room. When Trelawny saw him, she went mad.
"The thirteenth shall die," she mumbled absent-mindedly. "Please sit down, dear. Class is about to start." He hated it when she did that.
"Hey," Ron said gloomily.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
"Oh nothing. It's just...Hermione. Does she have to rub everything in?"
"I think so, it's just because-" Harry had nearly told Ron why Hermione teased him so much, but was interrupted by Professor Trelawny's distant voice.
"Good afternoon class," she said softly, standing up. "All this month, we will be practising advanced palm reading, or reading into the future life of your partner. Everyone find a partner. Quickly." Harry paired up with Ron. He glanced over toward Malfoy, who'd paired with Padma Patil, leaving Crabbe and Goyle looking stupidly confused.
"Please take out Unfogging the Future and turn to page 396. Grab your partner's hand like so," she grabbed Neville's hand, "and begin reading it, using your book's instruction as a guideline." She sat back down. Ron took Harry's hand and began running his fingers down the lines. He looked at his book.
"Yes...you're going to have a very long life...err," he paused, "...you're going to...grow up to be Minister of Magic...er... don't forget your wife of twenty years." He winked at Harry, who immediately thought of Cho Chang.
"Dears? Might I help?" Professor Trelawny was leaning over Ron, her magnified eyes staring intently at Harry. Oh no, he thought. She pushed Ron away, taking Harry's palm up and reading it. "Oh no, oh no! This can't be!" she exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes.
"What is it?" he said lazily, already guessing the answer.
"You will die! This line! See that?" she pointed to a particularly long line on his hand, "That line is a sign of death!"
"Everyone dies, Professor," Ron said, annoyed.
"A sign of early death," she replied. She was glaring at Ron, her overlarge eyes livid. "It is such a sorry thing. No one is as sorry as I," she said.
"What else is new?" Ron said quietly in Harry's ear. Harry smiled.
"I beg you pardon?" she whispered. Her drifting voice was gone, only to be replaced by a very sharp one.
"Nothing."
The rest of the day passed quite uneventfully until Potions. Snape had been yelling at Neville to fix his Truth Potion, when Harry'd begun to drift off to sleep. He suddenly felt a nudge on the arm and woke up. "What?" he asked loudly. He opened his eyes. Snape was leaning over his desk, eyes flashing dangerously.
"Taking a little nap, are we, Potter?" The Slytherins laughed at this, but Harry ignored them. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, because you can't manage to stay awake during a lesson." He smirked. "You should be glad I don't give you a detention for this, which I should." Snape backed up, walking to his desk and grabbing a quill and parchment. After writing down the points deducted, he faced the class. "Now that Potter's done sleeping, we can continue," Snape murmured. "Add your Unicorn hairs and stir. If it doesn't turn purple, you've done something wrong," he glanced over to Neville, who was fidgeting with his potion ingredients, looking for his glass stirring tool. He found the utensil, stirred the potion and, to his surprise, it turned purple. Neville breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now all we have to do is try them on someone," Snape said slowly.
He turned to Harry, but the bell rang before he could continue.
* * *
"I don't think he noticed," Ron said as the trio walked out of the classroom thirty minutes later, "but my potion was blue." He grinned over at Hermione, who frowned while glaring at him with an annoyed look
"I can't believe you!" she told him. "You could've asked me-" she stopped speaking abruptly, however, when she ran into someone.
"Ugh!" Draco Malfoy wiped himself off quickly, as though she had germs. He looked up. "Why don't you watch were you're going, Mudblood?" he sneered. "I don't fancy catching your germs, thanks." Ron advanced on him, but Hermione caught onto his robes. "When did you get a girlfriend, Weasel? Mudbloods don't make good ones, if you ask me. Well, I suppose Mudblood filth and Wizard filth work quite well together," he smirked. Hermione glared at him.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked. She was outraged.
"Why don't you make me?" he asked, staring her in the eyes. He turned, walking down the hall toward the Slytherin common room. Crabbe and Goyle followed behind, slumping lower and lower every step of the way. Harry noticed this and smiled to himself. He was glad he didn't hang around with stupid people.
The three of them climbed the steps to the entrance hall quickly, and Harry spoke up. "Well, at least we know one thing: You're not filth, Ron, and Hermione's not either. If anyone's filth it's Malfoy. He just doesn't admit it."
"Can't he just put a sock in it-"
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, please follow me," Dumbledore's voice interrupted Ron. "I need a word or two with you." He beckoned them up the marble staircase silently, and before long, they reached the familiar stone Gargoyle.
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," Dumbledore mumbled, and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase. They stepped onto it, and after a short while, reached the top. They stepped off, and Dumbledore walked in. Ron and Harry followed apprehensively. What had they done this time? Dumbledore went to his desk and sat down behind them. He motioned them toward him.
"Please sit down. I have something to tell you," he said, and he looked old at that moment. Old and sad, but Harry couldn't even guess why. He sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk while Ron did the same. As watched Dumbledore sit there, his blue eyes twinkling with what looked like silent tears, Ron had tried to look strong. He didn't know, however, that the little strength he held would soon be gone, only to be replaced by sadness...
* * *
"I can't believe they chose her to be our new teacher," Ron yawned from his four-poster later that night.
"Oh get over it, Ron. You know you like her," but this reply was worth nothing, as Ron was fast asleep.
* * *
Next morning, Harry woke up and walked to the Great Hall alone. He found Ron and Hermione eating toast at the Gryffindor table, and sat down beside them.
"We got our schedules. Here's yours," Ron muttered, handing Harry his schedule. He looked at it, chewing some toast as he read. He had Potions, Divination, and Defence Against the Dark Arts today. He looked down the table and saw Ginny, who was looking at her schedule sadly. She saw him and mouthed the words, "I've History of Magic first." Harry nodded understandingly. He knew all too well how boring that class was.
"Oh no! We have Divination with the Slytherins first!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione grinned smugly. "Shut up Hermione. I didn't ask you."
"I have Muggle Studies. I'll bet you wish you were taking it now, don't you Ron?" she asked.
"N-no! No I don't!" he lied.
Harry stood up.
"Where're you going, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"To the Common Room," he said quickly, running out of the Hall. He didn't think he could stand Hermione and Ron's fuss anymore. When got to the Fat Lady, he paused. What's the password? he asked himself.
"Something the matter, dear?" she asked.
"Rictusempra," Harry said quickly, remembering at just the right moment.
"That's the ticket, dear," she said cheerfully, swinging open to reveal the portrait hole. He walked up to his dormitory, plopping down on his bed.
* * *
Harry looked at his watch. He'd lain there for thirty minutes. He got up and walked out of the common room quickly. He had to get to Divination! He climbed the golden ladder in silence, dreading walking into the room. When Trelawny saw him, she went mad.
"The thirteenth shall die," she mumbled absent-mindedly. "Please sit down, dear. Class is about to start." He hated it when she did that.
"Hey," Ron said gloomily.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
"Oh nothing. It's just...Hermione. Does she have to rub everything in?"
"I think so, it's just because-" Harry had nearly told Ron why Hermione teased him so much, but was interrupted by Professor Trelawny's distant voice.
"Good afternoon class," she said softly, standing up. "All this month, we will be practising advanced palm reading, or reading into the future life of your partner. Everyone find a partner. Quickly." Harry paired up with Ron. He glanced over toward Malfoy, who'd paired with Padma Patil, leaving Crabbe and Goyle looking stupidly confused.
"Please take out Unfogging the Future and turn to page 396. Grab your partner's hand like so," she grabbed Neville's hand, "and begin reading it, using your book's instruction as a guideline." She sat back down. Ron took Harry's hand and began running his fingers down the lines. He looked at his book.
"Yes...you're going to have a very long life...err," he paused, "...you're going to...grow up to be Minister of Magic...er... don't forget your wife of twenty years." He winked at Harry, who immediately thought of Cho Chang.
"Dears? Might I help?" Professor Trelawny was leaning over Ron, her magnified eyes staring intently at Harry. Oh no, he thought. She pushed Ron away, taking Harry's palm up and reading it. "Oh no, oh no! This can't be!" she exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes.
"What is it?" he said lazily, already guessing the answer.
"You will die! This line! See that?" she pointed to a particularly long line on his hand, "That line is a sign of death!"
"Everyone dies, Professor," Ron said, annoyed.
"A sign of early death," she replied. She was glaring at Ron, her overlarge eyes livid. "It is such a sorry thing. No one is as sorry as I," she said.
"What else is new?" Ron said quietly in Harry's ear. Harry smiled.
"I beg you pardon?" she whispered. Her drifting voice was gone, only to be replaced by a very sharp one.
"Nothing."
The rest of the day passed quite uneventfully until Potions. Snape had been yelling at Neville to fix his Truth Potion, when Harry'd begun to drift off to sleep. He suddenly felt a nudge on the arm and woke up. "What?" he asked loudly. He opened his eyes. Snape was leaning over his desk, eyes flashing dangerously.
"Taking a little nap, are we, Potter?" The Slytherins laughed at this, but Harry ignored them. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, because you can't manage to stay awake during a lesson." He smirked. "You should be glad I don't give you a detention for this, which I should." Snape backed up, walking to his desk and grabbing a quill and parchment. After writing down the points deducted, he faced the class. "Now that Potter's done sleeping, we can continue," Snape murmured. "Add your Unicorn hairs and stir. If it doesn't turn purple, you've done something wrong," he glanced over to Neville, who was fidgeting with his potion ingredients, looking for his glass stirring tool. He found the utensil, stirred the potion and, to his surprise, it turned purple. Neville breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now all we have to do is try them on someone," Snape said slowly.
He turned to Harry, but the bell rang before he could continue.
* * *
"I don't think he noticed," Ron said as the trio walked out of the classroom thirty minutes later, "but my potion was blue." He grinned over at Hermione, who frowned while glaring at him with an annoyed look
"I can't believe you!" she told him. "You could've asked me-" she stopped speaking abruptly, however, when she ran into someone.
"Ugh!" Draco Malfoy wiped himself off quickly, as though she had germs. He looked up. "Why don't you watch were you're going, Mudblood?" he sneered. "I don't fancy catching your germs, thanks." Ron advanced on him, but Hermione caught onto his robes. "When did you get a girlfriend, Weasel? Mudbloods don't make good ones, if you ask me. Well, I suppose Mudblood filth and Wizard filth work quite well together," he smirked. Hermione glared at him.
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked. She was outraged.
"Why don't you make me?" he asked, staring her in the eyes. He turned, walking down the hall toward the Slytherin common room. Crabbe and Goyle followed behind, slumping lower and lower every step of the way. Harry noticed this and smiled to himself. He was glad he didn't hang around with stupid people.
The three of them climbed the steps to the entrance hall quickly, and Harry spoke up. "Well, at least we know one thing: You're not filth, Ron, and Hermione's not either. If anyone's filth it's Malfoy. He just doesn't admit it."
"Can't he just put a sock in it-"
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, please follow me," Dumbledore's voice interrupted Ron. "I need a word or two with you." He beckoned them up the marble staircase silently, and before long, they reached the familiar stone Gargoyle.
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," Dumbledore mumbled, and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase. They stepped onto it, and after a short while, reached the top. They stepped off, and Dumbledore walked in. Ron and Harry followed apprehensively. What had they done this time? Dumbledore went to his desk and sat down behind them. He motioned them toward him.
"Please sit down. I have something to tell you," he said, and he looked old at that moment. Old and sad, but Harry couldn't even guess why. He sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk while Ron did the same. As watched Dumbledore sit there, his blue eyes twinkling with what looked like silent tears, Ron had tried to look strong. He didn't know, however, that the little strength he held would soon be gone, only to be replaced by sadness...