Chapter Three: The First Day

Her first day at Hogwarts was extremely long and tremendously boring.  Her classes were all pointless, as she knew more of what her professors taught than they would ever know.  As she tried to make sense of why she had chosen the way of a student, Dorrin sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch.  She hadn't even realized who she had taken a seat next to.  A small first year with dirty blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes resided to the right of her.  The boy's head slowly twisted around on the girl.  He stared at her until she was dragged back to reality.  She looked into his augmented eyes.

            "Well, if it isn't Chase Dumbledore.  I was wondering when I would meet you."

She smiled, and Albus Dumbledore's brother's grandson returned it, though with less assurance.  He was still a bit taken back that she had sat down next to him.  By this time all the food in Nigel Berkson's mouth had fallen back onto his plate, and even Helena Saxon--who normally frowned upon her friends' immaturity when it came to girls--sat fixated in her seat.  Dorrin waited patiently for them to snap back to their senses.  Chase reacted first, and after clearing his throat, spoke.

            "I'm sorry, but what's your name again?"

            "Dorrin Chambers.  And your friends, do they have names?"  The girl smiled as Chase stumbled over his words.

            "Oh yes, of course.  This is Nigel Berkson--"  Nigel was the last to be brought back to earth, conveniently by Helena, who jabbed him in the side with her finger.

            "And I'm Helena Saxon," she said with confidence, "Hogwarts has never had a transfer student arrive in their seventh year.  Where did you say you were from?"

            "I did not.  But I am from Australia."

            "Then why do you have an English accent?"  Helena's two companions stared at her in horror as she interrogated their guest.  Dorrin, on the other hand, laughed.

            "I was actually born in England and lived here until my eleventh year," she started, "but before I could be accepted to Hogwarts, my parents were summoned to Sydney to do some research for the Minister of Magic.  So I spent my first six years of witch training down under," she recited the story from memory.  Was it convincing enough?  By the sound of Helena's 'oh' and Nigel and Chase's smirks, Dorrin knew that her story was indeed as believable as it was supposed to be.  She enjoyed sitting with Chase and his friends.  He was as interesting as she knew he was going to be, and she was flattered at Nigel's red face every time he came in eye contact with her.  Helena was at first intimidated, but by the end of the lunch hour, Dorrin had learned more about the history of Hogwarts than she would ever need to know; Helena was the most acumen person Dorrin had ever met, next to herself.

            "So what's your next class?"  Chase asked as he and Dorrin headed out of the Great Hall, with Nigel and Helena trailing behind.  The girl took out her schedule.

            "Advanced Potions."

            "Bummer," he replied, as Nigel tugged at his robes.  "Well, best be off.  Good luck with Snape."

            "Thank you," she said, still wondering how one man could intimidate so many people.

            Dorrin thought she was going to pass out on her way to Snape's classroom.  Her kind was not used to such dark places, and the dungeons were darker and more depressing than any place she had visited.  She needed sunlight desperately--anyone like her needed it to survive--but in order to maintain her cover, she stuck her chest out and breathed slow and deep as she took her seat next to Blaine.  She didn't even notice the man sitting at his desk at the front of the room, who was scribbling fiercely on a piece of parchment that lay before him.  Likewise, he didn't see her until he spoke her name during role call.  He was tall; it was the first chance she got to examine him in full.  His shoulder length black hair fell in his stark white face, but he was undisturbed by it.  He wore many layers of ebony fabric, which made it hard to tell about his body composition.  He had a hooked nose and thin, indifferent lips that parted to let out a smooth, bone-chilling voice.  His soulless eyes immediately fell upon her.

            "Miss Chambers, I am surprised to see you here."  His tone sent shivers up and down the girl's spine.

            "Why is that Professor?" She had spoken before she was asked, and every Gryffindor stared at her with open mouths.  The Slytherins however, snickered at her question--because they figured it would get in her in trouble.  Snape threw his hands out from the folds of his black robes, and glided over to Dorrin's seat, hovering over her like a snake preparing for an attack.

            "Because Miss Chambers," he hissed menacingly at her, "I told the Headmaster it was a very bad idea to let a transfer student into Hogwarts, and I was hoping he would take my advice."  Dorrin looked intently straight ahead of her, not wanting to tempt the Professor to give her a punishment of any kind.  "And do you know why I thought it was such a bad idea?" he sneered at her.

            "No," she replied, then quickly added, "Sir."

            "Because I do not think you will be able to handle the work involved in this class.  In fact, I highly doubt that you have any more intelligence than that of a second year in the area of potions."  He paused for a moment, and then moved in close enough so that only she could hear his next words.  "So I hope, for your sake, that you are a fast learner."  Dorrin couldn't believe her ears.  How could he get away with such brutality and cynicism?  Why would anyone let him? 

            "Now," Snape shouted, making students jump from their seats, "it begins.  Just because you are in your seventh and last year here, your workload will not be easier.  In fact, it will be harder.  It will be excruciating, tormenting, and boundless," he sneered slightly at the sight of his students' petrified looks.  "But, that is the price you pay for being born a wizard," he pierced Dorrin's eyes, "or witch."  Her face remained expressionless.  She knew better than to pick a fight with a human.  They were clumsy and irrational, often acting before they think of the consequences, and it would be most unfortunate if she were to kill him for threatening her. 

Snape then told them of their first assignment.  They opened their lab books and began collecting ingredients for their first potion, which was used to cure any type of allergy.  Those around her struggled to follow the directions listed in their books, but Dorrin tossed ingredients into her pewter cauldron left to right, knowing the potion by heart.  She was done within twenty minutes of receiving the assignment.  Professor Snape watched her out of the corner of his eye while patrolling the aisles, looking for every opportunity to criticize someone's work. 

            "Professor Snape?"  He jerked his head up from its position over a petrified girl who shakingly added her items under his scrutinizing eye. 

            "I am finished with the assignment."  He looked at her with a perplexed and skeptical look, but for pure amusement went and checked her cauldron.  Indeed, it looked as though she had completed the potion; it was the correct color and height at the side of the bowl and her supplies were all used up.  Yet he still refused to believe she had finished such a complicated potion in such a short amount of time.  Just then the girl he had been watching previously sneezed.

            "You, Thatcher, come here."  The girl got up from her seat and looked as though an invisible hand was dragging her as she made her way to where Snape stood.  He picked up the ladle and dipped it into the cauldron.  "Since you are so confident of your potion, shall we give it a test on poor Miss Thatcher here?"  The girl froze, mortified.  Sure, she had recently obtained allergies and they were quite bothersome, but she would have rather been lowered into a pit full of crocodiles than consume a potion that was made in twenty minutes. 

Dorrin just smiled and replied, "Of course." 

The Potions master shoved the spoon into the poor girl's hands and she reluctantly sipped the concoction.  Within minutes, the red from her eyes receded and her breath came from her nose, whose passages were now cleared.  A great smile graced her face, until Snape ruined the moment by slamming the ladle back onto the table. 

            "Well, since this assignment was obviously too simple for you, I have no choice to find other ways to challenge you."

So began a relationship just like any that Snape created—there was always a disparity between him and his students.  The odium with which he taught his classes made the students dread coming to it.  He had no respect for Dorrin, yet she still yearned to prove herself.  It was her nature.  She spent that night in detention with the Potions master, creating a potion in which she herself doubted its existence.  She believed he was just making her throw random items into a cauldron to make a 'potion', which explained why she never got it right.  Dorrin learned that day that the humans' way of respect for their elders was by living in fear of them--another note she would need to write to herself.