Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me. Most of Hermione's dialogue and the journey to Hogwarts onwards are from the book HP & Sorcerer's Stone. I don't think I even wrote half of this chapter; it has JK Rowling's words all over.
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry ducked the disarming spell and threw a Confundus Charm at the model. It dodged the charm and sent a Conjunctivitis Curse his way.
Oh crap! Harry thought and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being hit by the curse.
"Stupefy!"
Darn! Missed again!
"Reducto!"
There was a loud blast and black scorch marks where Harry was standing moments before.
"Serpensortsia!"
A large black snake burst from the end of his wand and slithered towards the model.
"Bind his legs," Harry hissed.
"No, bite him."
Harry was startled; he didn't know that dueling himself meant the fake him would have same abilities, like being able to talk to snakes. The snake stopped, obviously confused about who it should obey. Seeing as it would be of no use if both of them kept ordering the snake to attack the other, Harry Banished it.
"We'll never end this, you know," the model-Harry said.
"Yes, I'm starting to realise my mistake," Harry sighed. "Avis!"
A flock of small twittering birds flew towards the model-Harry and he brought his arms up in a reflex action to ward them off, blindly flinging his hands at the birds.
"Stupefy!"
Harry grinned as the other Harry fell. Finally it was over. He was so tired; his whole body ached from ducking and rolling and diving to avoid the spells, and he was mentally exhausted from trying to think of spells and counter-spells to use, plus strategy and diversionary tactics. It was a good exercise though, and Harry was quite satisfied with the hour's work.
He restored the room and began trudging up to his room. It was times like this that made him curse the size of the manor and the many bloody staircases. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden 'pop' sound, and Mindy appeared in front of him, bobbing up and down excitedly.
"Master is back," she squeaked, "and Master wishes to see young master Harry in his study. Mindy thinks Master has young master Harry's Hogwarts letter!"
Harry smiled at her and said, "Thanks, Mindy. I was just on my way up."
Mindy nodded and bowed, then disappeared. Sometimes Harry wished he could do that; it sure beats climbing up the stairs.
'You're getting spoilt,' a voice in his head said, 'surrounded by all this magic and freedom.'
Yes, he thought somberly, it wouldn't do to forget the hows, whys, and what was before he got here.
"Severus? You wanted to see me?"
"I see you are still incapable of comprehending a simple message."
"Severus!"
"You did state the obvious."
"Fine. Why do you want to see me?"
"Your Hogwarts letter," he said, nodding to an envelop on his desk.
Harry picked up the letter and glanced through it. "You don't seem happy."
"You won't be happy too, teaching a bunch of imbeciles every year who have no interests in learning, always engaging in tomfoolery and getting into trouble."
"Well, you have one less imbecile to teach this year," Harry said slyly.
"Ever so modest, Mr Potter."
"I try my best," he said demurely, smoothing down his shirt.
Severus laughed, "Incorrigible brat."
Harry grinned and said, "Do I have to get my supplies?"
"I've already ordered your supplies. They should arrive latest by tomorrow."
--oO—
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform, empty except for a few early arrivers, like him. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. It was only ten. Harry had arrived early to avoid the crowd and took the Floo here with Severus. The older man had left for the school after bringing him to the platform, saying he was required to be there earlier for some preparations.
Smoke from the engine drifted over his head and he levitated his trunk in front of him, heading towards the end of the train for an empty compartment. He would less likely be disturbed there as people would fill up the front compartments first. Sandy was curled round his arm, sleeping. Harry had asked if he could bring Sandy and Severus's reply was, "You can bring her. Keeping her, however, is another matter." So he spent the last month looking up concealing spells and practising them.
Harry started as the compartment door slid open and a girl appeared, looking surprised that it was occupied. She had bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, and, like him, was already wearing the Hogwarts robe.
"Oh sorry, I don't mean to intrude. I thought there wouldn't be people in the end compartments."
"It's ok."
She seemed to be hesitating, biting her lower lip like she wanted to say something. "Can I sit here?"
There goes his quiet time. "Sure."
She smiled gratefully and lugged her trunk in, settling opposite him. "I hope I'm not imposing on you but it's become sort of a habit for me to choose the end compartments. It's more quiet and the crowd doesn't come to the rear often."
Great minds think alike then.
"That's what I thought too," Harry said.
The girl flushed and Harry said hurriedly, "I don't mean you or anything. I'm Harry Potter, by the way. What's your name?"
"Oh how silly of me to forget to introduce myself," she laughed nervously, smoothing out her robes. "Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."
Harry smiled. "You're a muggle-born, aren't you? You can relax, you know."
Hermione looked embarrassed. "Was I that obvious?"
"Quite."
"It's rather exciting and nerve-wrecking for me because nobody in my family's magical at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough."
"Slow down. It's ok. I doubt many first years have much practice with magic before going to Hogwarts."
"I suppose so… Hey, you're Harry Potter!"
"I thought you knew that ten minutes ago."
"I know but I just realised- I mean, I've read about you- I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise- "
"-and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Yes, I've read about me too."
She looked apologetic and Harry felt he really shouldn't be so amused at her expense.
"Well, I think I'd just keep quiet now."
"It's ok. You just need to relax."
Hermione gave him a small smile and asked, "What house do you think you'll be in?"
Harry thought for a while. "I don't really know. Maybe Ravenclaw, since I like reading and learning."
"Really? Me too, though I hope to get into Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best and I heard Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."
"There seems to be a sort of bias towards certain houses, like Gryffindor is favoured by most people while Hufflepuff is ridiculed, and Slytherin is despised."
"What did you say?"
"Oh nothing, just a random thought."
He was saved from having to elaborate as the compartment door was slid back, and a smiling, dimpled woman asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
--oO--
It was already dark when they reached there and Harry could barely make out dark shapes of the mountains and forests against the deep purple sky through the window. He was a little nervous and excited. Hermione looked indifferent but he saw her smoothing out her robes and hair several times, calming actions for herself, and clasping her hands behind her back to stop from fidgeting. They gave each other reassuring smiles and joined the crowd thronging the corridor, moving towards the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air and quietly cast a warming charm on both of them.
Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard shouts of "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" and made out the shape of a large man by the lamp's light.
Slipping and stumbling, they followed the large man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on both side of them and Harry, not wanting to walk blindly, muttered "Lumos!" to see better. Nobody spoke much, though Harry heard someone behind him sniff once or twice.The narrow path suddenly opened into the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. It looked even more magnificent than the picture in Hogwarts, A History.
"No more'n four to a boat!" the man called out, pointing to a fleet of little boats slightly bobbing up and down on the water by the shore. Harry and Hermione got into a boat, and a red-haired boy and another black-haired boy joined them. Hermione gave a start when the boat moved, together with the fleet of little boats, gliding across the lake, which seemed as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled the man as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They moved along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour where everyone clambered out onto a pathway, made of rocks and pebbles. They followed the man and his lamp, the only source of light, climbing up a passageway in the rock, and came out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. Feet shuffled up a flight of stone steps and the first years crowded in front of a huge, oak door.
The man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. It swung open at once and a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here"
She pulled the door wide and motioned them to follow her. The entrance hall was as big as the manor's and its stonewalls were lit with flaming torches. The ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them spiraled upwards, leading to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. Everyone crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Harry looked around idly and saw his batch mates in various states of anxiety, discussing the Sorting and how it would be done, all letting their imaginations run wild. Harry caught parts of a conversation, something like 'wrestling a troll' and stifled a snort. Hermione was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.
"It's not a test. You don't have to, and can't, do anything."
"How would you know?" she whispered furiously back.
Harry sighed and muttered, "Why is everyone so uptight about the Sorting? It's not even graded or something."
"People fear the unknown, my boy." It was a whisper, and a breath of cold air brushed his ear. He turned and a slightly transparent gaunt face stared back at him, before smiling, if one could call it that, a twisted creepy image that would have sent most people running. Harry wondered how he managed not to scream or jump or even show any outward response. Perhaps he was used to ghosts, but Lady Amelia never sneaked up on him, nor did she ever looked as scary as this terrifying ghost with blank staring eyes and robes stained with silver blood. He became aware that several people around him were screaming.
The ghost floated up, and Harry noticed that he wasn't the only one; there were about twenty ghosts gliding across the room, talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – "
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Feeling the beginnings of excitement stirring his stomach, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Hermione behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Books couldn't have prepared him for this actual experience of being here.
Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Yes, he remembered reading about it, but that had seemed like a trivial detail then, not so now. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up to the heavens.
Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Harry let his eyes roam, examining the students. Different tables had students with different coloured badge and ties, according to their house colours. Most were quite attentive, cheering and clapping when a first year was sorted into their house. Perhaps Professor McGonagall was right when she said your house would be like your family. Suddenly, Harry felt anxious about the Sorting. He hoped he wouldn't be put in a house where he was disliked. It would be too hard to stand for seven years. But he doubted it could get as bad as his years in the orphanage. It hurt that he was so foolish then; he wouldn't play that role again. He refused to play that role again.
He noted that Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor and smiled because she had gotten her wish.
"You'll be fine." A soft hiss under his sleeve reminded him that Sandy was still with him. He stroked the snake covertly, keeping silent because it would be unwise to speak in this crowd.
"Potter, Harry!"
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall-full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.
Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"
Harry sat still and thought, 'Anywhere that is best for me.'
"Right then," said the small voice, "it's got to be SLYTHERIN!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked calmly towards the Slytherin table. He was acutely aware of the uncomfortable silence that had fallen across the hall and the increasing twittering and whispers. The belated cheers and clapping came but he could feel the weight of everyone's stares on him and he lifted his chin a notch, refusing to let their reaction get him down.
He sat beside the ghost who had spoken to him earlier and searched the High Table for Severus's reaction. The corners of Severus's lips quirked as Harry held his gaze and there was just the slightest toast of his goblet before he took a sip. Harry hid a smile at the subtle approval.
"We meet again, young one," the ghost said.
"Yes, Your Bloodiness," Harry said respectfully.
"You know of me."
Harry wasn't sure if it sounded like delight, but the smile that stretched across the ghost's face was quite terrifying.
"The older students spoke of you," he said smoothly. It wouldn't do to slip up so soon, especially if he was placed in Slytherin for a reason.
"Ah, I see. Welcome to Slytherin, Harry Potter. Enjoy the feast. I trust we will meet again."
"Of course," he murmured as the Bloody Baron gave him an imperceptible nod and glided away.
"The Bloody Baron doesn't usually take initiative to speak to us," a voice to his left said. "I think he likes you."
Harry laughed. "I'll take it as a compliment then. I'm Harry Potter. And you are?"
"Terence Higgs, Slytherin Seeker and sixth year prefect," said the brown-haired teen, shaking his offered hand.
"Pleased to meet you. Tell me more about the older students?"
"You're a curious one. First years usually ask about the teachers and classes."
"I'm different," he said lightly.
Terence gave him a measuring look. "Yes… that you are.
"That's Marcus Flint, sixth year, the Quidditch Captain and Keeper. Beside him is Derrick Miles, third year, Beater. Adrian Pucey is further down, the black-haired boy, third year, Chaser. Charlie Warrington sits opposite him, fourth year, also Chaser. And Montague's a third year Chaser, just beside- "
"The Quidditch team always sits together?"
Terence shrugged. "The team's quite close, and if it helps us win the Quidditch Cup, no one's complaining."
"What about the other Houses' students?"
Terence thought for a while. "I heard the Ravenclaw girl Penelope Clearwater's pretty good at Charms. Cedric Diggory's not bad at Defense against the Dark Arts for a Hufflepuff. Angelina Johnson's top in Transfiguration but that may just be because Professor McGonagall's her Head of House. And Terence Higgs's quite good in Potions, if he dares say so himself. Our Charlie's not bad in Herbology either."
Harry noticed Terence only named people and the area they're strong in. How… Slytherin.
Harry grinned and said, "Thanks. Now I know who to look for when I have trouble with my work."
"You learn fast."
"I've had good guidance from older students, like you."
Terence smiled. "Second lesson: be subtle."
"Unless flattery is one's weakness."
"Very good… very good… Welcome, Harry Potter, to the House of Cunning and Stealth."
He felt pleased by the absolute acceptance of his place in the House.
Yes, everything seemed to be going smoothly.
--oO--
Terence led them through the hall and down the staircases to the dungeons, down stone steps and into dark labyrinthine passages, passing by the rare snoozing portraits. They walked for quite a while, going deeper and deeper under the school until Terence paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"Basilisk," he said, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open.
Terence went through it, and the rest of the first years followed him into the Slytherin common room. It was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.
"Gather round, first years." Terence waited until he had everyone's attention before speaking. "Now, a password is needed to enter the common room and it is changed weekly, so make sure you remember the correct password or you can wait outside until another Slytherin lets you in. This week's password is basilisk. Our Head of House, Professor Snape, will be here shortly to speak to you."
"Thank you, Terence," a deep voice said. Terence nodded at the man and stepped aside.
"Welcome Slytherins, whether returning for yet another school year or joining us for the first time. Like the other three houses, Slytherin has its unique and prized qualities and you were considered to have possessed these qualities and worthy of this house, thus your presence here. Do not let the invidious rumours and malicious whisperings convince you otherwise. There is honour in this house, though many repudiate our brand of honour, and a few rules need to be set, new to the first years and a reminder to the older students.
"As Slytherins, we are often discriminated outside of our house and we do not need further antagonism within the house, especially outside of these rooms. Settle your differences with one another in the privacy of the common room but once outside of these walls, you protect and defend fellow Slytherins regardless of personal feelings should he or she be prosecuted by members of another House.
"In addition, one does not contribute to the windmill of gossip that goes on in the school. Whatever unpleasant things that happened within the house stays among the house members. Slytherins guard their secrets jealously.
"I must impress upon all of you that your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. We may be, as they say, 'slimy Slytherins'," Severus's lips curled at the distasteful label, "but even serpents look after their own. My office door is always open to those who need help."
The cohort was oddly silent throughout and after the speech and it was obvious that Severus had made a deep impression on the first years. The older students, despite having heard the speech before, looked serious. Harry doubted this was a side of Slytherin the other houses and teachers ever saw.
"It is late and I'm sure all of you need the rest. Terence, please get them settled in."
Everyone started to move off, and Harry turned, following the directions of 'first years' boy's dormitory first door on the left, girl's on the right'.
There were six beds, three on each side, all four-posters hung with dark green, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and one was standing at the foot of each bed. Harry found his in front of the bed near the door, with only one other bed on the other side.
"Don't mind if I go to bed and leave the introductions 'til morning. I'm so," he stifled a yawn, "tired."
There were murmurs of agreement and they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.
--oO--
"There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the kid with the blonde hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
"Can't believe he's a Slytherin."
"His parents were Gryffindors."
"I heard You-Know-Who was in Slytherin too."
Harry clenched his fists but maintained the aloof mask; all this whispering and staring was bloody well getting on his freaking nerves. Whispers had followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished he could just banish all of them to the other side of the world. He was starting to feel like some bloody animal on exhibition!
"When do you reckon those idiots will stop staring?" Draco asked, amused.
"Beats me if I know how idiots think," Harry said irritably.
Draco laughed, and Crabbe and Goyle grunted, or snorted, whichever describes their way of laughing.
Finding their way to classes was a bit tough as the staircases seemed to keep changing. Peeves wasn't really a problem for the Slytherins, unlike for students of the other houses, because they always threatened him with the Bloody Baron and he would leave them alone. Some classes-- Charms, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts--weren't quite up to his expectations (hell, DADA was a joke), but he still paid attention and duly copied notes, and in his free time, read ahead and attempted some of the more advanced spells in the textbook.
Astronomy was a little new to him, and they had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Tuesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology with Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. He had done very little on the practical aspects of Herbology with Severus, and found the experience interesting.
History of Magic was the most boring class, and try as he might, he couldn't help falling asleep sometimes. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and after a while Harry just gave up, charming his quill to take down notes and muffled his ears, doing his own self-study in class.
"Finally, Friday," said Draco, pouring syrup on his pancakes.
"Why are you so happy?"
"We've got double Potions with the Gryffindors," Theodore said, unperturbed, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
Harry had almost forgot about it but he doesn't see what's the big deal. "You like Potions that much?"
"Sure I like Potions, but the best part is the Gryffindors," Draco said with a wicked grin.
"You're crazy today."
"I'm perfectly sane-"
"What Draco meant was Professor Snape would favour us and torment the Gryffindors," said Blaise.
"How do you know?"
"You haven't heard? The stories are legendary."
"Stop being so melodramatic, Draco," said Harry.
"You'll see later. It'll be fun. Come on, let's get to class."
"It's still early."
"He wants to get good seats for the 'show'."
Draco smirked at Blaise and dragged Crabbe and Goyle with him. Harry just sighed and followed them to the dungeons where they would be having Potions. They were the first few to arrive in the class and Harry took the time to examine the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls and to set up his things. Slowly the students streamed in, and it was unsurprising that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were separated into two halves, down the middle of the room where the aisle was.
Sev- Professor Snape started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."
Harry groaned inwardly. Trust Severus to embarrass him like this. He caught a flash of amusement in Severus's black eyes that was quickly masked by disdain. Someone sniggered and he glared in the Gryffindors' direction. Severus finished calling the names and looked up at the class.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- Professor Snape, like Professor McGonagall, had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed this little speech. Harry tried not to smile while Draco sneered at the Gryffindors. Glancing over, he saw that Hermione was on the edge of her seat and she looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Harry had not talked to the girl since the Sorting; he had no time, always rushing to classes, and this was the first of the only class he shared with Gryffindor.
"Mr Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
He remembered that one- it was drilled into him-
"You would get a sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death, Professor."
"Ten points to Slytherin." He turned on the Gryffindors. "Weasley! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Hermione's hand had shot into the air but Weasley looked a little pale, eyes darting to his friends for some help. "I don't know."
"Ten points from Gryffindor. Potter?"
"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons."
"Very good, ten points to Slytherin."
"Weasley! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
"I don't know," said Weasley loudly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
A few people laughed but they were foolish Gryffindors. Severus was not pleased and he snapped, "Sit down, Granger! And twenty points from Gryffindor for Weasley's incapability to answer simple questions and Granger's inability to sit still.
"For your information, monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Weasley."
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Harry saw what Draco meant by favouring Slytherins and tormenting Gryffindors then, and he felt a little sorry for the Gryffindors, who hadn't done much wrong except for getting sorted into that particular house.
They worked in pairs to mix up a simple potion to cure boils while Severus swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except him and Draco. Severus was saying something about the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when Harry noticed the clouds of acid green smoke rising above one of the Gryffindor's melted cauldron, producing loud hissing sounds as the potion seeped across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while the boy, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
The boy whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at a sandy-haired boy. Then he rounded on Hermione and the red-haired Weasley boy who had been working next to the injured boy. "You – Granger – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
Hermione looked like she was going to argue but Weasley nudged her and muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'don't push it' and 'can turn very nasty'.
"Another point from Gryffindor for talking in class, Weasley. Class dismissed!"
Now Weasley looked angry enough to start what Hermione wanted to do moments before. Luckily, he just grabbed his stuff and stormed out.
"Did you see their reactions?" Draco said as they walked out. "They all look fit to burst anytime soon." The group laughed but Harry only managed a half-hearted smile. He saw that Blaise wasn't that amused either and was glad he wasn't the only one at odds with the general consensus of the group that 'tormenting Gryffindors' was fun.
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Please review! Also, I'm wondering if I should do year 1 to 5, or just some short, interesting scenes that happened differently from the books. What do you think?
ETA: I forgot Theodore Nott earlier (thanks to Hippity for telling me and Blaise has been confirmed as a boy by JK Rowling) so there are six first year boys in Slytherin instead of five in the earlier version.
