Ronald Weasley was very nervous. The plush couch he sat upon was worth more than his second-hand robes and the threads of his sleeves ripped softly as he pulled his arm away from the expensive upholstery. The Slytherin common room was an intimidating place for him; great wealth was in display and treated as an everyday commodity. That was something that Ron found greatly intimidating. Having grown up in a large family that required a sparse lifestyle to make ends meet had caused Ron to treasure each galleon that made its way to his pockets. Normally he spent them a few days later on some knick-knack that caught his attention and later became forgotten, but Ron had many times lain in his bed at the top of the Barrow and imagined, just what it would be like to be a wealthy wizard. To have money to spare and not have to rely on a magical garden for his family to successfully make it through another month. His father's work at the Ministry was considered a joke by many of the people in it and their own children often teased the Weasley children in Hogwarts on their father's obsession with Muggles. Someone coughed in front of Ron and he looked up, eyes wide with startled attention. "Y-yeah?"

Draco had been sitting before the Weasley boy for a while now, the ginger too deep in thought to notice the world around him, it would seem. Most of the students had gone on to their dormitories but he had wanted to talk to his new housemate and understand him a little bit better. After all, this was a member of the legendary and infamous Weasley family, well… at least infamous in most pure-blood circles. They were all Gryffindors so what had caused Ron to be sorted into Slytherin? Draco steepled his fingers beneath his chin and cleared his throat which caused Ron to snap back to reality with a start, an event that amused Draco. "Ron, what are you doing here?" He asked, with seemingly genuine curiosity. "Your family… they are all Gryffindors." Ron nodded slowly, unsure of what Draco was getting to. "So… what are you doing in Slytherin? Why are you well… different."

Ron paused his train of thought for a moment. That was a good question with a hard answer. He couldn't just tell Malfoy, of all people, the real reason. But they were house-mates which meant that they could trust each other, right? Ron didn't know what to think and to be fair it was a rather intense situation for an eleven year old to find themselves in. He considered the question for a while, watching as Draco pulled out one of the spell books from the shelves nearest them and began reading it, the soft parchment hissing softly as its pages turned. Ron had heard many things about the Malfoys from his father and more on most Slytherins from his siblings. Charlie had once won a duel against one of the Slytherin students in his own year and when he had turned around he had been hexed with rainbow colored eyebrows, a particularly harmless if annoying spell. The Slytherin had been given detention for as long as Charlie had the eyebrows like that and after a month and a half they had finally relented beneath the toil, telling Severus Snape about the counter-curse in hopes of ending their punishment. Snape had forced the Slytherin to cast the counter-curse themselves and only after they had done so did the punishment end. Thus, Ron had grown up believing that he could not trust a Slytherin to keep their word. That was one of the reasons he had asked to join the house; to change them from within, for the better.

Meanwhile, Draco had been reading a rather interesting treatise on the uses of silver against Lycanthropy and the brewing of Wolfsbane, the book teaching him on the amount of silver required within the potion to severely weaken a werewolf and on how to deal with someone with the disease. Still, potions were not his forte however Draco made a mental note to show the book to the Granger girl. Who knew, perhaps her ability to remember could come in handy eventually. "I don't know." Draco looked up quickly at Ron, snapping the book shut and placing it on the table beside his own couch. "What?" He asked somewhat annoyed. Ron felt his ears glow red again and he bit his lip. He was terrified of the Slytherins as he felt that he had nothing in common with them. Maybe it had been a mistake to want to move away from the traditions of his family. Perhaps there was still a chance to get sorted into Gryffindor.

"I don't know why I'm here." Ron replied numbly, looking at his ratty clothes which had been worn by Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George respectively before reaching him. Magic was powerful tool but it had limitations. Some tears were beginning to show in the robes he wore, which caused Ron to cover his sleeves in embarrassment. He looked at the nicer clothes that Draco wore, custom made no doubt and all fitting perfectly. "You're right, Malfoy." He said, a little louder this time. "My family is all Gryffindor and I am a Slytherin. I don't know why… and I don't know if I belong here." Draco looked at Ron, eyes squinting as if he could read the Weasley's thoughts.

He lifted a hand and pointed with a finger to the snake banner that hung over the large fireplace. "Do you know much about Slytherin, Weasley?" He asked, standing up now and walking to the hearth, hands out for warmth as it was somewhat cold in the dungeon. Ron shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. "Not much… All I know comes from my siblings." Draco nodded, aware that Ron could not see him. Some minutes passed as thoughts flew through the younger blonde's head. This was one of the reasons why he was described as a leader by his relatives. He was finding a way to help a fellow Slytherin feel better about themselves. Never mind that for all intents and purposes they should not be friends. This was Slytherin, the Hogwarts house where each student cared for the rest like family. It did not matter if they had known each other for years, much like how Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had known each other, or if they had just met, as was the case at the moment. Slytherins are family, they are cunning, oft described as evil by people who focus only on the notorious dark wizards. Thus it is easy to forget the true ideals that embody the Serpent's House: cunning, ambition, resourcefulness, shrewdness and determination.

Draco pondered on all these things before he walked back to where Ron sat. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a faint squeeze. "The Sorting Hat placed you here for a reason, Ron Weasley. It does not make mistakes; that much I've been told by my father. Maybe you aren't as cunning as most would expect from you as a Slytherin but from what I've heard from some… friends of mine, you Weasleys are very determined and resourceful." He smiled at Ron, who grinned back and was feeling much better about himself. "Bloody hell Draco, you should be a motivational speaker…" Replied Ron, standing up and extending his hand. "I know we did this already in the Great Hall but this will mean more now. I'm happy to meet you Draco Malfoy. We'll be good friends." Draco smiled and nodded before giving the hand a firm shake. "Likewise, Ron Weasley. Likewise."

Hermione had been busy reading through the History of Hogwarts by Bathilda Bagshot in her bed, too excited to sleep even though she knew she had a full day of work ahead of her. Already through the most of the book, though she had started her readin with a positive disposition she was now biting back hot tears of embarrassment, her body quietly rocking with her crying. That was why the other students had laughed when she extended her hand for Draco to shake. She was what they called, a mudblood. A wizarding child from non-magical parents; mud in the clean gene-pool that was the wizarding world. She sniffed once and one of the girls in a bed beside hers told her to keep it down before mumbling something else and returning to sleep. She quietly closed the book and placed it on her night stand, laying on her bed and trying to do just that. There was no luck; her mind had too many thoughts flying through it. Hermione swung her legs over the side of her bed, bare feet softly tapping at the wooden floors and the stone steps as she made her way down to the common room, going slowly as she did not wish to inconvenience her fellow students again.

Ron and Draco were about to make their way to their own dormitory when they heard Hermione walking down the steps to the girl's room. She made her way to the fire, not noticing either of them and held out her hands for the fire to warm. It was rather damp as well, underneath the lake and all of that. Draco turned to Ron and Ron turned to Draco, both of them shrugging before making their way to her side. "You look like you've had a tough time." Commented Draco, causing her to jump in fright and push against Ron. He smiled and gave her arm a soft punch. "Come on Hermione, what's wrong? We're friends so it's okay to tell us." Hermione thought on the word, her agile mind going through many emotions in the span of seconds. "Friends… I've had friends." There was a faint poison in her words and Ron was taken aback by it. "Friends who wanted to use my mind for their benefit…" She shook her head, curly hair bouncing gently as she did so. Ron found it rather enchanting and Draco cleared his throat. Both Hermione and Ron turned to him, Ron curious and Hermione furious. However, Draco held in his hands a cup of tea which he had brewed with the tea-pot that lay beside the fires, a simple tap of his wand causing the pre-enchanted kettle to brew the perfect cup of tea. Hermioned looked at it before taking it in her hands, merely holding it. Draco did not mind, sometimes the act of holding a hot cup worked wonders. He knew it from experience and from what his mother had told him. "Come on Granger. Ron is right, we are your friends. Not that kind of friends, but you know… real ones." Hermione shrugged and blinked hard. "I'm a mudblood, right?" Ron looked aghast at her. "Hermione, who told you that?!" He asked her with shock but she did not reply.

Draco however, merely nodded at her. So, that was what had caused her emotions to overflow. Draco recalled how just hours ago most at the table had laughed at her decision to shake his hand. Now he was glad he had shaken it, even if he had wiped his hand clean for show when she was not looking. Hermione turned to Ron and shrugged, the motions jittery with pent up energy. "I was reading the History of Hogwarts book… It says that Salazar Slytherin hated my kind." Draco sighed and tapped the kettle once more, taking in his hand the aromatic cup and handing it to Ron before making another one for himself. "It's not the 10th century anymore, Granger." He was going to say some more but she shook her head. "No I heard the other students at the table. You're a pureblood, aren't you Malfoy. And you too, Weasley." Not questioning it but merely affirming her suspicions. Once more, Draco nodded and this time Ron followed suit. "And I have mud in my veins…" She sipped some of the tea and grimaced, content with holding it in her hands. It was rather tart.

Ron shook his head and placed the cup on one of the tables near them. "No Hermione, you don't have mud. That's just a dumb word people came up with so they could feel better about themselves even if they didn't have any right to feel that way." He was somewhat upset; after all it was a word that his parents had adamantly refused to utter within the Barrow. "I don't care what people say, Hermione. You are as much a witch as any 'pure-blood' in the girl's dorm." Draco nodded and pointed at her. "Remember this Granger. No one can make you feel bad without your consent."

Hermioned was impressed. It seemed that the Sorting Hat had been right and that she had found some real friends after all. Just then the doors to the common room opened and in stepped Harry Potter, followed by the foreboding visage of their house-master, who quickly glanced at the three of them. Ron snapped around, almost kicking the table his tea-cup was on. "Aw shi-"

"What… Is going on… Here…?" Asked the professor as Harry joined his friends, glad to see them again. Draco grinned and shrugged. "Nothing Professor, we're just-" Snape would have none of it though, no. "I know perfectly well what I see, Malfoy. Three students out of bed when tomorrow they have a double lesson of potions first thing… in the morning…" Ron groaned to himself. Potions had always seemed like tedious work. The mention of the class jogged Malfoy's memory and he made a more permanent mental note of handing Hermione the book he had been reading earlier. Harry however would have none of it. "Sir that's not fair, I've only got back so really it's not that late." Snape closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose. "Mr. Potter do you intend to have me set a new precedent for taking points… from my own house…?" Harry shook his head mutely. "Good…" Said Snape. "Now off to bed the four of you and no marauding… about the castle." Snape almost had an apoplectic fit once he realized what he had said but only he noticed it as Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron made their way to their own dormitories, the boys waving goodbye to Hermione who smiled and waved back, making her way to her bed with a smile. She had friends… She had friends. She climbed into bed, the covers warm and keeping the chill of the stone floors at bay. Drowsily at last, she made a mental note to send an owl to her parents and telling them about her first day. Then, she drifted off to sleep, a soft smile on her lips as she dreamed of climbing the highest mountains and diving into the deepest of seas.

The three boys made their way up their stairs and into their own section of the boy's dormitory where they changed into their nightclothes, Malfoy's own pajamas emblazoned with the crest of Slytherin. Ron, however, forlornly looked at his trunk. The Gryffindor insignia stood out amidst all of his possessions. He picked it up and turned to Harry and Draco who paused and looked at him, Harry with curiosity and Draco with amusement. "My mom was so sure I'd be in Gryffindor…" Ron said softly before placing the shirt over his chest. "What do you think?" He asked them. Harry shrugged, not really seeing the issue but Draco understood. "Looks like you are ready to get lynched by our house-mates." He grabbed his second set of pajamas and tossed to Ron's bed. "Here Weasley, use mine until you get new ones." He meant well but he still did not know what exactly to make of Ron.

Harry had a very old pair of pants, one of the knees scrapped with a hole on it and an old shirt that had belonged to Dudley at some point. He put them on and slid underneath the covers, surprised at the size of the beds. The wooden frame alone was bigger than the cupboard he had been forced to live in for his entire life. Silence reigned in the dorm and soon all three boys were asleep.

The night passed and Harry woke to the sound of bustling individuals, conversation and taunts. For a moment, Harry panicked and could not remember where he was. Where the Dursley's having guests over? He arose and blinked several times while he searched for his glasses, vision blurry until he placed the lenses over his eyes. This was most definitely not the cupboard. Then he remembered the events of the previous day and felt genuinely happy. It had not all been a dream. "Wake up, Potter!" Called Draco from the other side of the room, already dressed in his robes and sitting on the wooden footboard, languidly looking at Ron as he struggled to brush down the lapel of his robes. Some stitching was coming undone and if he was not careful, he'd rip through one of the sleeves. Harry had had better luck with his attire, having purchased it directly from Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Once dressed, they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast before that morning's double potion's lessons.

They found Hermione who was sitting by herself at the Slytherin table and they promptly sat down by her, muttering greetings through drowsy mouths. Hermione handed them that day's edition of the Daily Prophet, the magical newspaper that so many wizards read to keep up with the times. "I'm done reading it." She said, picking a piece of toast and proceeding to drown it in butter. Harry shrugged and took it, Draco and Ron eating while he read it. Nothing interesting seemed to be going on, there had been some events that were considered to be the doing of followers of the Dark Lord but despite that, Harry got the impression that all was well in the wizarding world. They ate in moderate silence, at times talking amongst them whenever they had no food in their mouths though time wore on and they had to make their way to their potions lesson, lest they be late and get punished for tardiness.

Suddenly Errol, the Weasley family owl flew in and crashed into Goyle's bowl of soup, sending hot broth all over the students seated within a six foot radius of the crash zone. It fluttered back up and hooted once, hopping over to Ron and depositing a letter on his plate before flying off amidst the cursing of many a Slytherin and the laughter of the rest of the tables, the Slitherins looking with annoyance at Ron, most of them now had to go to their dormitory and get changed, since they did not yet know the spells required to fix the mess.

Ron looked at the receding form of the owl and then back at the letter, his usually great appetite gone. This was a letter from his mother, and he gave silent thanks that it was no howler as it lacked the characteristic red hue of the parchment. He opened it, fingers shaking slightly as he began to read the contents:

"Dear Ronald, even if you are not in Gryffindor your father and I are still proud of you studying at Hogwarts. However, Fred and George told me about the conversation you had with the Sorting Hat and I must say I do not know how to feel about it. Did you really tell the Sorting Hat to not place you on Gryffindor? Why would you do that, Ronald…? Our family has been in Gryffindor for generations, we've belonged to the Lion's house for almost as far back as when Hogwarts was founded. I can't say that I understand why you were placed there, Ron. You don't belong with them; just look at all the dark witches and wizards that came from that house. Your father is facing so much strain at the Ministry and you pull this on him? I love you but sometimes I don't understand you, Ron. Love, Mom.

P.S: I'll knit you a nice green and silver sweater for Yuletide. I know you'll look dashing in it. And I heard that you are friends with Harry! I knew it was good to help him at the station. Maybe I'll knit him a sweater too. Once again, I love you, Ronald."

Ron shook his head before folding the letter and placing it in his pocket. They did not understand his reasoning but that was alright. He meant to change Slytherin, from the inside. And it would be nice to have a sweater with his house's colors on it. Quietly, he joined the rest as they made their way to the dungeons.

It was dark in the classroom, only a few windows were open and even then the majority was covered in thick curtains, plunging the room in a stifling blanket of dark heat. Several cauldrons bubbled near the professors desk and the students chatted amongst themselves. Harry had a parchment and quill at the ready to take notes, Hermione having a similar layout but with a book that Draco had given her. She was writing down the ingredients to an odd potion called 'Wolfsbane,' though Harry had no clue what she wanted to kill wolves for. He looked around the classroom, seeing some faces that he recognized from the Hogwarts Express.

Over there in the Gryffindor table was Longbottom who seemed rather terrified of the oppressive environment. Luna… the odd Ravenclaw of the bunch who was wearing some very strange glasses that dwarfed her head and slipped constantly over her nose. The rest were more students from Gryffindor and Slytherin with a few more Ravenclaws, not surprisingly divided evenly down the middle of the large room they shared, Slytherins on one side and the rest of the students in the other. Harry spotted some upset looking Slytherins, and he realized he was looking at Draco's former associates, Crabbe and Goyle. They were staring at him off the corner of their eyes, thinking he would not notice. Harry was impressed with the fact that they believed they were succeeding. It seemed that Draco had joined Harry, Hermione and Ron in order to get away from those dullards, not that Harry could blame him. One of them, Crabbe it seemed, scrunched up a piece of paper he had been hastily scribbling on and attempted to throw it at where Harry and the rest sat. Just as the ball flew through the air, the door to the classroom slammed open and Snape stalked in before pausing, noticing the parchment ball that flew in a graceful arch and plunged directly into the contents of one of the cauldrons. It plopped in, splashing boiling liquid over the stone floor that wriggled around before cooling down in an inert state.

"Mr… Crabbe." Slowly said Snape, who had a vein throbbing on his forehead, framed by the curtains of black hair that hung at the sides of his face. Harry sat there, eyes wide open and not believing the sheer stupidity that had required Crabbe to reach the decision of doing that. Draco as well seemed relieved to have gotten rid of the imbecile; Hermione had only noticed the throw's result, having been writing several questions she intended to ask the Professor and was wondering what had happened. Crabbe swallowed noisily and watched as Professor Snape crossed his arms over his chest, slowly and methodically walking to the ruined potion, the cauldron's contents bubbling and spewing some rancid vapors. With a wave of his wand, the fires died and the cauldron cooled down slowly. Professor Snape stood there, as still as a stone before turning around. "All of you should thank Mr. Crabbe for providing an escape goat for today's… object… lesson." The students murmured amongst themselves and Crabbe looked terrified at the cooling cauldron.

"Professor." Said Hermione, lifting her hand. Snape continued staring at Crabbe for a few more seconds before slowly turning to her. "Miss Granger?" He said slowly, looking at her with extraordinary calmness. The potion that Crabbe had ruined was none other than the extraordinarily tricky to make and expensive to produce 'Draught of Painlessness.' It is a potion used by many of the nurses and doctors that worked at Saint Mungo's Hospital, which causes the nerves to shut down and remain completely dormant to any sort of painful stimulus. Mess up the recipe or the brewing itself, and it will have devastating results. Hermioned lowered her hand and pointed at the ruined potion. "I er, I took the liberty of observing the potions before the class started, sir. That is the Drought of Painlessness?" She asked to which Snape nodded slowly. "Correct. Ten points to Slytherin for distinguishing a rather complex potion to make. So Miss Granger please, tell the class what happens when the brewing of this potion is… interfered with." Hermione nodded and took a calming breath. "The Drought of Painlessness is a potion used in most healing endeavors but it is so difficult to make correctly that it is only brewed under the direst of surgeries. Interfering with the brewing in anyway other than the recipes specified instructions causes it to lose any positive effect and particularly if someone… drops a piece of parchment in…" She stopped though Snape waved a hand for her to continue. "It becomes the Essence of Pain…" Hermione finished.

"Another ten points to Slytherin, for a correct answer and clever deduction." Snape said, Harry and Draco congratulating Hermione while Ron grinned at her. "Indeed, the potion you see now is no longer the Drought of Painlessness but rather the Essence of Pain. I had intended to demonstrate its effects on a more… positive note but no potion should ever be wasted." He snapped a finger and pointed at Crabbe. "Bring me… your owl, Mr. Crabbe." The class went deadly silent then. "For your stupidity and brainlessness, I would much rather demonstrate its effects on you, directly. However, as most people find using students as test subjects to be… distasteful, I will merely show you the results of your… actions, when applied to your bird. Bring it. To me. Now."

Crabbe shakily stood, grabbing the cage that contained his bird and slowly making his way to the towering and infuriated professor. Neville looked on and raised a hand. "P-professor?" He asked and Snape sighed before turning to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw side. "What is it, Longbottom?" He snapped and stalked to the table. Neville shrunk beneath the angry house-master. "S-sir… I'd rather you didn't torture the bird. Sir." He said it softly but Snape heard him. "All things have… consequences, Longbottom. Thus it is my duty as an educator… to instruct my students to think, before they act. Or…" At this he turned to Crabbe. "In the absence of such a prodigious ability as… thinking, then to bear their guilt." He looked at the minute owl within Crabbe's cage and then back at Crabbe. "Sit back down, Mr. Crabbe." He said. Crabbe nodded hastily and began walking towards his table though Snape told him to stop again. "Leave your owl on my desk. Did you think that the… punishment, would not be forthcoming?" He asked slowly, walking ponderously back to the front of the room, the bird chirping softly before the professor threw a cover over it. Snape grabbed a small stopper and filled it with a minute amount of the ruined potion, lips pursed as he placed a metallic top over the opening. He held it up for the entire class to see. "Essence of Pain, everyone. This amount would probably cause some… discomfort on a grown man but I'd hate to be the owl to ingest it." He tipped it to the side, pretending to pour it down an unsuspecting throat. "The pain, I imagine… must be, exquisite…" He placed the vial on his desk and crossed his arms once more before his chest. "Now then… Should anyone of you wish for the owl to remain safe and painless, you need only make the antidote to this poison. Whoever manages it would earn their house twenty-five points and would find themselves surprisingly devoid of any… extra-work I may assign for the remainder of the term." At this the room went abuzz with the excited chatter. No homework? How hard could this antidote be to make, if they could be free of homework.

Snape gave a languid smile before turning to the rest of the cauldrons, emptying the cold one with a wave of his wand. "Now then, who can tell me where to find the correct amount of skin from a boomslang in order to make the potion of Living Death?" At this Hermione and several others raised their hands. "Miss Granger?" She cleared her throat and took a breath. "The boomslang is a snake found in the regions of the sub-Saharan desert, within the continent of Africa. Though not a magical creature, its body parts all have different uses." Snape nodded slowly. "Five more points to Slytherin." He said before asking another question. "Where would I find a… bezoar?" He asked. More hands went up and he pointed at one of the Ravenclaws. "Miss Dean?" The girl nodded. "Inside the stomach of a platypus, sir." With a sigh, Snape shook his head. "Within the stomach of a platypus is found the polyp's needed to make Wakeless Sleep or maybe your own knowledge in potions." Some of the Slytherins chuckled snidely and Hermione lifted her hand. "Professor, a bezoar is found within the stomach of a two headed mountain goat. It is a stone that absorbs all poisons ingested but has only one use."

"Right again, Miss Granger. Truly you are a credit to your house." Snape commented. "Five more points to Slytherin and five points from Ravenclaw." At this one of the Gryffindors stood up, a boy called Dean Thomas. "That's not fair, she's the only nerd here!" Hermione felt herself tense up. "I'm not a nerd…" She muttered under her breath. Snape cocked his head and waved away the comment. "Mr. Thomas if you wish to help Gryffindor win the house cup from Slytherin I suggest you treat the other houses with… respect. Twenty five points from Gryffindor and detention for you. Maybe some time spent in the library, rewriting potion's treatises will help you appreciate the subtle arts of potion making, which Miss Granger seems to beat all of you at." The Gryffindors muttered amongst themselves and the Ravenclaws looked with greed to Hermione, wishing that she was in their house. Not for the last time, either.

The class went on, the professor asking questions, awarding points for the correct answers and taking them away for the incorrect ones. Eventually the lessons ended with them all receiving as an assignment to write a paper on the properties of murlock spittle and its uses in the medical field. They all left, though Hermione stayed behind to ask Snape some more questions on the subject of potions, which fascinated her. The professor was more than content with giving her as many answers as she wanted as he recognized in her a kindred spirit. The room was empty and Snape sat at his desk, Hermione reading from her sheet of parchment and writing down notes as he gave her concise and simple answers.

"Miss Granger, I believe that you would do well with a visit to the library. Perhaps the sections on potions making and some treatises on say… alchemy?" Hermioned nodded, writing down the instructions. "I suggest you look at Nicholas Flamel in order to fully graps the… concept, of alchemy." He said, writing on some parchment, his quill scratching at the paper before he blew on it to dry the ink and handed it to her. "Take this and show it Miss Pince, the librarian. It will get you access to the Forbidden Section, where most of Flammel's writing is located." Hermione nodded and took the note. "Thank you for this, professor. Thank you very much." She then made her way to the great hall to eat with her friends and attend the next classes. Snape sighed and rubbed his eyes. There was something about the Granger girl when he had mentioned the Forbidden Section, the way her eyes had lit up at the idea of forbidden knowledge. He shook his head. Perhaps he was seeing things.

The rest of the day went on smoothly and without any nasty incidents, save for when Seamus Finnigan had accidentally caused the feather he was supposed to levitate to combust in a loud explosion, though that had been a more humorous note to the evening. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron made their way to the great hall where they had some dinner and made their way to their dormitories, changing into their night clothes and meeting in the common room, on the couches beside the windows that looked into the lake. Hermione sat on the carpeted floor, scanning through a book that she had taken out of the Forbidden Section earlier that day, the book Draco had given her laying beneath it. She was absolutely fascinated with the subjects and was nearly memorizing the recipes for many, many potions though she still wrote them down in a little note-book she had purchased from the librarian. Harry was practicing the spell they had learned from professor Flitwick and using just about any item to practice on, now using Ron's quill and shakily lifting it up and down. Ron, much to his own surprise, was also reading. But this was an old history book that dealt with the wizards and witches of ancient times. He was fascinated by the information within it, as he was now learning about the fact that sorcerer's of ancient times used to have powers granted to them by actual gods. Or at least, they seemed like gods to the people of the time. This could be a way to prove to everyone that the Weasley's were not the simple family everyone believed them to be. Perhaps he could gain some of these powers and show everyone that his family was also a powerful one.

Draco however, was busy on another matter. Crabbe had to come to him when he had been alone in his dorm room and had begged for help with concocting the antidote to the poison he had accidentally created. Draco knew though that it had nothing to do with his owl and more with the tempting prize of no schoolwork to be done. He sighed to himself and sat beside Hermione. "Granger, I have a question for you." She looked up, absentmindedly focusing on Draco's face and nodding. "That antidote that Professor Snape talked about… How hard is it to make?" Hermione shrugged, placing her notebook within the large treatise and shutting it. "I'd have to see the actual recipe and instructions but I think it's going to be a hard potion to make. Snape wouldn't offer a chance to get rid of homework if it was easy." This made sense to Draco and he thanked her before reclining on the remaining empty couch, letting her continue with her reading. The common room was quiet, the burning logs popping softly as they were consumed.

Ron finished reading his book, mind swimming with the knowledge he now had. In ancient times, magical individuals gained powers from beings in other realms. He had always felt somewhat powerless, compared to his older brothers who knew more about magic than he did. The only thing he beat them all at was wizard's chess and even then it was because he barely kept two steps ahead of them when he played against his siblings. Ron thought on the names he had learned from the book, of wizards like Zeus and Hades who hailed from ancient Greece and had become so powerful they lived for hundreds of years, never aging and worshipped as gods. Ron liked the sound of that though he would be happy with just being liked for who he was. He looked at the back of the book where generally the authors wrote acknowledgements and gave credit to their sources. "Hermione, could you pass me a parchment?" He asked her, grabbing the quill which Harry had successfully managed to levitate without incident. She did so, the paper rustling as it fluttered in her hand. Ron took it and laid it on the smooth back of the table beside his couch, writing down the titles of the writings that sounded the most interesting. Particularly, a wizard named Aschlepus, who had a book titled 'Ancient Rituals and their Uses.'

Harry exhaled loudly, looking around for another item to levitate. He had slowly gotten a greater control over the spell and he wanted to continue practicing it. Noticing the book beneath the treatise that Hermione was reading, he reached over and grabbed it, Hermione barely registering the temporary theft as she turned yet another page, drinking in the knowledge bound within the ancient book she held. Nicholas Flamel was an extraordinary wizard and the fact that he had lived for over five hundred years thanks to his greatest discovery was astounding to her. She envied his achievements, writing down her thoughts on the subject in her little notebook. Harry set the smaller book on the carpeting and pointed at it with his wand. Just like how professor Flitwick had instructed, he swished and then flicked it at the same time he said, 'Wingardium Leviosa.' The book rose in the air before shaking and dropping back down. Harry looked at it as it fell with a dull thump, then switched to his wand. It seemed that much like him, his wand had to grow in strength and power. A quill could be easily lifted by both Harry and his wand, but the book was considerably heavier when compared to the long feather that composed Ron's writing quill. He supposed then that much like going to the gym to become stronger, one had to train their wand to do the same, practicing the same spells until they felt like routine and were easy to perform. Thus, he pointed the wand at the book and repeated the enchantment.

Draco had been thinking on what the Granger girl had told him. Perhaps he could find the recipe and brew it in order to avoid any baggage of studies from the potions class. He was adept at brewing them but found the work somewhat tedious. He watched as Harry lifted the book up and down, mildly entertained by the display. On went the time and the rest of Slytherin house went to their dormitories, soon followed by the four friends. On went the days, lessons filling the busy schedules of the first years. They spent a few weeks learning the basics of flying with broom under Madame Hooch's tutelage, studying the subtleties of proper cauldron cleaning in potions thanks to the majority of them burning their brews and causing Snape to include the lesson in his teaching plan so that they could do it themselves without requiring his help at every moment. The only one who seemed to never burn a potion was Hermione and that earned her many points for Slytherin. Ron was more mediocre on the subject and found it difficult to concentrate on his lessons, reason being that his mother had found out from the twins that he had been sorted into Slytherin. However, they had not failed to mention his request to the Sorting Hat and that had caused some tension to arise in the family.

The weather grew cold and grey which marked the beginning of the fall. The four sat at the Slytherin table, chatting softly. Hermione had sent an owl to her parents telling them about all that she was learning and the real friends she had made. She was waiting on their reply and hoped that the owl she had sent had not gotten lost. It had cost her a shilling, though thanks to the bet she had made of Harry joining Slytherin there was no fear of running out of funds for the moment. Thus for the last several weeks she had waited patiently for her parents' reply to arrive. She had thought that Ron's letter was actually for her but the owl was different and she doubted her parents had purchased an own of their own with which to send letter to her. It was Hallows Eve'n and they hadn't sent a response yet, though Hermione was not worried. Maybe they had gone on a trip to France and the owl had yet to catch up with them. It was plausible, they usually left the dreary fall weather of London for a few days in which to enjoy the warmth of the sun in Paris. Thus, she was not worried. Hermione was sure she'd get a letter soon enough.

Harry had no correspondence as the Durlsey's didn't want to talk to him, or hear about him. In all fairness, he felt the same about them though he got pangs of envy whenever his fellow students got letters from their parents. Hedwig flew in, landing gracefully on the table top with that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. He grabbed it and undid the twin that kept the paper in a roll, extending it on the table and leaning to grab a bite of his toast when the front page caught his attention. It was the entrance to Gringotts, then the image shifted to several goblins working on the door to vault 713. He knew he had seen it before and as Hagrid made his way to the teacher's table, he remembered. "Guys look at this." He said to his friends, all four of them leaning now to look at the paper. "What is it?" Asked Draco with curiosity, Ron and Hermione reading the article and looking at each other. "Gringotts was robbed!" Said Ron and Draco shook his head. That was impossible. "No one can steal from Gringotts, no way!" He replied, forgetting his bagel and leaning over to read the article as well.

Harry looked at his friends. "You don't understand, the vault was empty when it was robbed. It had to be. Hagrid and I went to it when we visited the bank to grab my money and he took a little parcel from inside it." Harry then remembered that Hagrid had told him to not tell anyone about that, but if the vault had been robbed it meant that someone knew what was inside. The three were not looking attentively at Harry. "Well I don't know what was inside! It looked like a little package, like a stone or something." He said, flustered, as if they expected him to know. They looked at each other. Something was afoot, and it seemed that Hogwarts was in the middle of it.

Later that day, once they had finished their lessons with Professor McGonagall, the four students made their way to Hagrids cabin, near the Forbidden Forest. As they walked and chatted, Ron could not help but think about how there were so many things in Hogwarts that happened to be forbidden. He had tried to enter the Forbidden section of the library more than once but each time he tried; Ms. Pince refused to let him into the tall and foreboding area without a teacher's written note of permission. If only there was a way to make oneself to go unseen. Maybe blending in with his surroundings or becoming invisible. He had heard of invisibility cloaks but it was all too likely that the enchantment would be prohibitively difficult and expensive to craft. However, Ron had been told by one of his brothers that there existed a spell to cause oneself to become invisible, though the exact words of it and how to cast it he could not recall. The group saw Hagrid exiting the castle and they quickly rushed to meet him. He saw them coming to him and waved, smiling genially as he did so. He had been in the castle on official business but he was glad to see Harry.

"Hagrid, Hagrid we have a question!" Called Harry when they finally reached the towering half-giant, somewhat out of breath as they had seen him when they were half way to his house; of course, they had ran to him. Hagrid looked at Harry with curiosity, wondering what it could be that he wanted to know. "Well what is it, Harry? I don't have all day." He chuckled, hefting a bucket in one hand as the contents slopped around noisily. Draco took a breath, as the rest were still getting their back. "Hagrid, what was in vault 713?" He asked, surprised at the startled expression that got from the groundskeeper. He handed Hagrid the copy of the Daily Prophet which Hagrid took, depositing the bucket on the ground and reading through the front page. "Oh dear…" He said softly. "O-oh dear…"

Harry looked at Hagrid, expecting something more. "Oh dear" what? Hagrid what was in that vault?" The half-giant took a deep breath and folded the paper in half, tucking in underneath his arm, far from the reach of the four Slytherins. "I do not know, kids. And if I did, I still wouldn't say. This is grownup business, between Dumbledore and Nich-" Hagrid almost finished before he snapped his mouth shut. "I'm not going to say, I am NOT going to say… I shouldn't have said that…" He repeated like a mantra, picking up the bucket and walking off, the ground shaking at his speed and mass. They looked at one another, shrugging and exchanging looks of confusion. "Who is Nich?" Asked Harry, though Draco, Hermione and Ron looked as confused as he felt. Something was most definitely up and it seemed that Hogwarts would be where it played out. Ron's stomach gurgled and he smiled embarrassed. "Blimey… I'm starving…" Thus they headed to the Great Hall where luncheon was just beginning to be served. They had potions once more after that and then it was the Halloween feast, which the four greatly looked forward to. There had been rumors of a surprise during the feast and it sounded like some wholesome fun to relieve their stress of studies.

They ate and went on to the potions lesson, which that week had been taking place in the school's greenhouses. Pomona Sprout and Professor Snape had decided to do a series of joint teaching sessions. Professor Sprout claimed that it was so that the children interested in taking Herbology the next year could become acquainted with the environs of the green houses, which were filled with magical and oft times, dangerous plants. Professor Snape was there if the same applied to students that wished to study Potions the next year, on a more advanced level, however the knowledge he imparted was of the uses that the plants and their fruits had for making magical brews.

Professor Snape stood at the head of the garden-table, particularly non-enthused by the fact that the potted Devil's Whit, so called for its extraordinarily sharp thorns, was trying to tie his left hand to the nearby tables supporting leg. Moving slowly, he pressed the tip of his wand to the fleshy body of the main vine, which caused it to freeze and for its thorns to recede into its tendrils, allowing the professor to remove his hand without losing a finger. The students were chattering noisily amongst themselves, some poking at seemingly inert plants while the others milled about the Herbarium. One of the students shrieked as the seemingly harmless potted plant she had been prodding suddenly jerked up and began lashing about. Thankfully, Professor Sprout had her wand at the ready and shouted a spell.

"Immobila!" The enchantment shot like an arrow from her wand, a pale blue circle striking the center of the plant and causing it to freeze in place. Now that all the students were paying attention to them both, Pomona decided it was time to start the lesson. "Now then dearies, this week we've looked at Winters Breath and its effects on the human body." One of the students felt queasy and used the table for support. The guinea pig had been unrecognizable when the plant was finished. "And we've learned about the Asphodel Root and the sentient tree from which it comes from. Today… we study the bowtruckel." Said the Professor, holding up in her hand a diminutive green humanlike twig, which was walking over her palm. "They are very cute and extremely durable but don't let the size fool you, students. It is illegal to own these without a permit issued by the Ministry of Magic. The most advanced muggle-locks fail under the cunning fingers of these little guys, and they are a thief's most favored ally. No locked door is safe if you own one of these." She placed it on the table and it reached up for her hand, chirping softly. Chuckling, she picked it up again and held it for the class to see.

Professor Snape held out his own hand and another bowtruckel walked over it. It was his turn to instruct. "They are very crafty beings. Their life spans are short if they remain unclaimed but once they pick a wizard they can live for many years. Of course, the think of us wizards as… moving trees so there is that for them." Some of the students chuckled and Snape gave a forced, half-grin. "Indeed. They are the most adept of pickpockets, and can sometimes steal from an entire room… unnoticed." Said the professor holding up a small bag filled with galleons, the metal clinking within the fabric. Many students muttered, their hands slapping at their pockets. Soon the bustle of voices died down. "Now, no one here has been relieved of any… financial goods, but this bag can count as a prize for the student that can successfully bond with a bowtruckel and get them to steal it from me." The professor made a show of placing the bag within his robes and Miss Sprout began speaking once more. "You all have a little bag before you." And so it was, though some students could swear they had not been there before. "They contain a single bowtruckel which you will converse with and bond with."

One of the students raised her hand and Sprout pointed at her. "Yes, Miss Evreen?" She asked. "Professor Sprout, if these are magical creatures, shouldn't Professor Kettleburn be teaching us about them?" Snape chuckled and hefted his bowtruckel in his hand before snapping it in half. It did not even seem to register the loss of its lower limbs which the professor held in between two fingers before the class, then proceeding to press the two half's together. Just like that, the bowtruckel was whole once more. "These are plants, Miss Evreen. Thus Pomona has so… kindly agreed to let me use them for ingredients in my potions." Another student raised her hand and Snape nodded to her. "Miss Lovegood?" She pointed at the bags before them. "Doesn't using them in potions kill them, professor?" She did not seem upset over the fact but rather she seemed to be simply curious. Professor Sprout cleared her throat as some of the students shook their heads. "An excellent question, my dear. These bowtruckels are old and they will perish soon, as all plants do. You needn't worry about them, they'll be dead before the end of the night and Professor Snape can make good use of them. Many good potions can be made from their leaves and vines. Five points to Ravenclaw, for showing good knowledge on this plant." The students felt somewhat better. "Now, remove them from their bags and bond with them, if you can. It's a complex process so do not feel bad if you do not succeed."

Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron picked their bags and opened them. Within each was curled a small being very much like the ones that the professors held in their hands. They looked at each other and then back at the bowtruckels. Splitting off, all the students meandered through the green houses, finding their own spots within which to 'bond' with the plants, whatever that meant.

Ron walked off with the bag in his pocket, the bowtruckel in his hand as he talked to it. He didn't know what he was supposed to say so he decided to tell it everything. From the beginning and telling it his life story, his plans and what he wanted to do. He sat down on a stool, the wood creaking beneath him as he shifted around and got comfortable. "Well…" The bowtruckel chirped and imitated his positioning, some vines sprouting off it and forming a miniature stool that it sat upon. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley." He said, looking at the sentient plant, spotting twin black spots and realizing that they were its eyes. It chirped back at him for a while and Ron merely sat there, unsure of what to do. Did bowtruckels have a language? Ron had no clue and felt rather lost, so he simply sat there and listened. Eventually, the plant stopped chirping and whistling which Ron correctly took for it having finished telling him its life story. "That's rough, buddy." Ron said, unsure of what else to say. Had they bonded correctly? Had they bonded at all? Ron thought there was one way to test it. "Well, I have a favor to ask of you." The bowtruckel chirped once, and nodded. Ron felt elated now, as he had done it correctly. "There is a tall man, taller than me and all in black. He has a bag filled with metal that I need. Could you get it for me?" He asked.

Later, in the green houses, the students gathered around the tables, almost all holding their bags within which were the bowtruckels that had failed to bond with them. The professors looked on, neither pleased nor upset that the students and bowtruckels had not bonded. Professor Snape stood and crossed his arms. "I cannot say that I am surprised that you did not succeed. It is a… tricky, endeavor that many do not have the patience to undertake… successfully. A pity…" He continued, hand going to his pocket in search of the bag filled with gold. "I was looking forward to… giving, these galleons away." He said, before stopping with his hand in his pocket. The bag was conspicuously gone. "Alas… someone else got to them." He said with a chuckle and a quasi-smile, amidst the muttering of the students who wanted to figure out who. "Twenty-five points to the house of that student." He said before looking out the window. "Now all of you… Get out. It will soon be time for the feast."

The students made their way, jostling and bustling on their path to the Great Hall. Sitting at their tables, Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron listened to the speech given by their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The venerable wizard stood behind his podium, addressing several items of business. "Tonight we celebrate Hallows Eve'n, a feast that commemorates the ancient traditions. In old times, wizards were said to commune with the dead in this night, the veil between life and death was at its thinnest everywhere in the world. Now we know better… the old religions were put to rest for a reason." He chuckled before continuing. "Now we celebrate another year in Hogwarts. I feel inclined to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is explicitly off-limits to any and all students who are in the third year or lower. The third floor of the east wing in the castle is off-limits as well. Now I know that you are all adventurous students but refrain from testing the waters here. Hogwarts is a safe place only as long as you follow the rules. But that is enough of business. Let the feast… Commence!" Everyone cheered as the food appeared on the tables and began eating to their hearts delight. Harry and Ron looked about as they ate, curious as to where Hermione had gone. Draco also noticed her absence but they continued eating. She was most likely in the bathrooms, or something of the sort. The ate for a while and suddenly the doors burst open, so loud that everyone present heard the wood smash against the stone walls.

Professor Quirinus Quirrel was running down the middle and straight to the teachers table, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "TROLL!" His voice cracked slightly before he stopped and frantically pointed at the doors. As no troll materialized, the students thought that maybe the strange Defense against the Dark Arts teacher was trying to joke with them. "IN THE DUNGEONS!" He shouted once more, collapsing on the stone steps, Dumbledore hastily making his way to the man as the other teachers walked to the tables of their students. "I… I thought you'd like to know…" He said before fainting. It seemed that the feast, for the moment, was cancelled.

Now then… This chapter is finished and I am pleased with how it came out. This project is proving to be a very fun one to undertake and I look forward to retelling the rest of the Harry Potter books in the same manner. Tell your friends if they'd like to read the story. Receiving so many notifications of follows and favorites was truly a new experience and I have to admit I am not likely to get bored of it. So please, don't hesitate to leave reviews and to follow me on my Instagram page .rocks for updates on oncoming chapters and new stories.