Chapter 8

The first day of class was as great as the night before. Hermione woke up early, said a quick prayer, and showered away the rat's nest that had formed overnight. Tanny wouldn't let her go down to breakfast without the older girl forcing her to sit in one of the desk-vanities until they had pulled her hair back in a long braid, saying she wanted to try out something called a five strand.

"If you end up in potions today – which you will – you'll be glad we did this. Professor Snape deducts points for having your hair loose when you brew," Tanny informed her. "We only have him twice a week, thank goodness, but we always brew the first Potions class of the year."

Hermione mentally stored that piece away and resolved to always wear a hair tie on her wrist. It wouldn't do to make Professor Snape upset with her.

When the girls had dressed and primped and packed their bookbags, they all headed down to the Great Hall together. Hermione was unintentionally on the outside of the group – she knew they meant no harm by it, but still felt a little out of sorts with how much history the girls had together – and was relieved whenever Tanny tried to keep her appraised of what they were discussing from last year. Still, it was nice when the boys showed up and plopped next to her in the Great Hall.

Fred gave her a wide grin and a vibrant sing-songy "Good morning!" before starting in without pre-amble, filling his plate with eggs and sausages.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Hermione giggled as George plopped next to his twin, a little less energetically. "And you, moonshine. So, Fred's the early riser then."

The twins immediately perked and looked at her.

"He's not Fred, I am."

Hermione looked closer at both twins before glaring. "You lied to me yesterday? Yesterday you said you-" she shoved her finger at the closer twin, "were Fred, and you were George. So which is it?"

Both twins exchanged a look. "Well, you passed the test."

"We weren't lying-"

"Yesterday. How'd you know-"

"He was Fred?"

Hermione giggled a little too wildly. She was clearly too excited for the first day. "That's a silly question."

Genuinely, Hermione didn't think it was a big deal. Yet both twins were still looking at her intently as she bit into her toast. "I remember which of you is Fred and which is George, that's all. It's not like I'd forget you guys overnight."

Fred and George jumped up immediately, and moved to the roommates on her other side. "Alright ladies, -"

"Let's play-"

"The guess the twin game!"

Some of the girls giggled while some rolled their eyes. The ones that giggled took them seriously and guessed between the two. They lied again, switching George and Fred, and the girls pretended to know that already, falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Hermione saw the grin the twins sent her, the smug little grin that pulled up a bit higher on Fred than George.

"Thanks for playing!" The twins bade the ladies farewell before parking back next to Hermione, this time scooching her over so they could go either side of her. "You see-"

"They've known us for what?"

"Two years?"

"And they can't tell."

Hermione shook her head. "Lee can tell though, right?"

Twins nodded.

"Well there you go. You guys have the same faces, yes, and it's harder to tell than most, but that doesn't mean I'd mistake you two after being introduced."

She'd meant what she said the day before – Fred as different and just seemed freer. More spontaneous. George was more reassuring. It was easy to tell that Fred was the early bird over George, and easier when he smiled.

Both twins now, though, looked a little uneasy.

"Well, Ginny – our little sister – can tell."

"And Charlie!" George added.

"But mum can't, normally," Fred continued. "Sometimes she can, when she's paying attention."

"But she should!" Hermione cried out, earning looks from down the table. She shrank a little at that, while the twins chuckled. "Sorry."

"Naw, you're good."

"Mum's great, really."

"There's just a lot of us."

"It's enough that she can tell most of the time."

"We don't really make it easy, you know?"

Hermione frowned. "If you kept doing that switching thing, I guess I can understand that. But don't you want people to tell you apart?"

"Why?" Fred shrugged. "S'not important."

"Kind of fun seeing people flustered," George interjected. "And we if we stopped-"

"We wouldn't be so impressed at people like you," Fred finished with a wink, making her blush.

There was no opportunity to respond because just then McGonagall started to come around with the timetables for everyone. Hermione was now focused on the Professor, jumping up and down and feeling hope every time the Professor started in her direction only to give a timetable to another Gryffindor.

She was about to burst a vein when Fred and George got their schedules first, and the kindly let her see what classes they were taking while she waited for hers even if they did chuckle at her firstie enthusiasm.

"Six empty slots?" Hermione gasped. "It says you have two free periods this morning!"

"Seriously?" The twins looked over with a grin. "That's great! Three hours all for ourselves!"

The twins high-fived while Hermione frowned. "Is that normal?"

Fred and George shrugged. "Everything third year on is elective. We didn't sign up for any extras."

"We work better-"

"On our own, you see?"

"We'd rather use our time-"

"For more practical ventures."

Hermione frowned. "But there's just … no classes?"

Fred and George shrugged. "There's study hall twice a week. Why take away free periods?"

When she did get her timetable, she presented it to the twins for cross-reference.

"So you're with us for Defence, History, Potions, and Astronomy," George scanned over the lists. "And one of our Study Halls. Woah, you're taking Runes and Arithmancy?"

"Yes?" Hermione looked confused.

The twins both shook their heads in playful exasperation.

"They're elective-"

"Didn't you know?"

"You're taking the two hardest electives with the most class hours-"

"And then the required classes too -"

"Did you pick your schedule?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "I didn't know I could. I guess … Maybe the Professors did? I mean, they said I'd have to live up to certain expectations, is this a part of it?"

"Do you even have a free period?" Fred examined the parchment critically before he yelped. "There! It just says 'Professor Snape'. What on earth...?"

They all looked at her parchment. Her free period was would have been a Study Hall – she only had one, in fact – but it looked like that wasn't in the cards. The last class of the day on Wednesdays, instead of being labelled as free was taken up by a sharp, scraggly script simply saying Professor Snape.

"He's helping me catch up in Potions," Hermione reasoned out. "Maybe I'm getting taught last class that day?"

"He doesn't have any free periods," Fred and George explained, looking at each other. "That's going to be smack in the middle of a Potion's class."

"Oh."

Fred and George were quick to reassure her, "You can always ask!"

Both boys got up from their seats and bugged the schedule-supplying McGonagall to come over to them. Hermione felt her body shrink as the woman came over with her normal stern look and pursed lips.

"Miss Granger? You have a question?"

Her voice failed for a moment before she held up her schedule. "The twins said Professor Snape doesn't have free periods, but it says on my schedule I'm to meet him every Wednesday for a period. I-I know it must be silly to worry about it, I'm sure Professor Snape will let me know if I'm needed, but-"

"Say no more," McGonagall said dismissively. "There is no error on your timetable. That is time set aside for additional study in Professor Snape's classroom. He has indicated that he needs assistance with his stores and you need experience with Potions ingredients. I imagine that while he teaches class, he will also be familiarizing you with ingredients. You would do well to thank him for agreeing to take on the additional responsibility."

At the stern look she gave over her spectacles, Hermione nodded frantically. "Yes, ma'am."

McGonagall gave her a pleased nod and went back to handing out schedules while Fred and George sat back down beside her.

"It's like you're being given weekly detention," Fred protested in murmur. "You have three classes with ol' Snapie today!"

"You sure you want to be a third-year?"

Hermione gave them an emphatic nod and from the glint in her eyes they knew she was serious. The twins backed off the subject then in favour of jumping up from the table with their bags now in hand.

"Well, enjoy Potions!" The twins bade farewell. "We've got pranks to cook up."

Hermione remembered what Angelina had called them. Jokesters. "Just … be good, okay?"

Both twins gave mischievous grins, but made no promises with their shouted, "See ya in Charms!"

Hermione sighed, looking at the empty spaces next to her now.

"Alone again, Granger?" She murmured.

But she wouldn't lament it; this was normal for her. She renewed her look at her schedule and over the classes she had that day. Double Potions, Runes, lunch, Charms, and then her extra lesson with Professor Snape. It was a very Potions-heavy day then, and she needed to impress her Professor. The Potions texts were out in a moment and she studied with scattered bites of her scrambled eggs and toast. The students all jumped up at the sound of the bells, making Hermione scramble to pack up her books, chug some pumpkin juice, and follow the crowd.

At least she needn't worry about getting lost. With the map of the school in her head from Hogwarts: A History, she was able to make her way down to the dungeons with a group of Ravenclaws just in front of her to let her know she was going the right way.

It made her sag in relief to see so many empty seats in the class when she arrived. She sat right at the front – it bugged her when people tried their hardest to avoid the spot, so it would be hypocritical to do so – and followed the example of the people around her in pulling out a parchment biro to set up neatly on the desk.

No one came to sit by her, but she waved at the other students with a forced brightness before distracting herself with review. Whispers floated around her as she sat there with her book on magical plants, and valiantly as she tried to ignore them they were just so loud.

"I thought this was a Raven-Snake class? What's the Gryffindor doing here?"

Apparently, they thought she was lost.

"Look how small she is; she's a third year?"

Or just curious.

"A lion in the front? The Professor'll rip her apart."

Maybe they were just concerned?

"I heard from Spinnet she's a muggleborn … no wonder she's studying so hard."

"No! Maybe she's related to the Dagworth-Grangers. They wouldn't move a muggleborn forward."

"No, it's true! Look at that quill she's using! It's muggle!"

"She'll be lucky to have an actual potion by the end of class."

Hermione felt her spine stiffen. She could definitely brew a potion! She could! Not that she'd ever tried before ... but she'd made cookies with her mum, and she knew how to cook. And Professor Snape had even told her the valuable bit of advice not to use magic, so she'd been practicing the different cuts in the book with her parents before Hogwarts. They may have experience, but she was getting tutored by Professor Snape; if she didn't have the experience yet, she would. Hermione Granger would do nothing less than ace her classes.

Then the door banged opened and the room silenced as Professor Snape glided into the room like a spectre, no trace of emotion visible on his face. It seemed to freeze the room while Hermione just watched, curious. He moved to the front of the class and stared them down, his face not changing as he looked around the class. There was a flicker, though, in his eyes when he met her eyes. It was kind of acknowledgement that she wasn't expecting and she smiled brightly, earning a dark scowl in return.

"I will spare us all the niceties that normally accompany your first class of term," his voice was dark and slick, eyes piercing. "You are here to resume your studies and we will do so. You all have the necessary supplies?"

Heads bobbed in acknowledgment.

He swished his wand and the directions for the Wiggenweld Potion appeared on the blackboard behind him, the chalkwork looking as if it had been done painstakingly before class instead of in a single sweeping motion of his wand. It wasn't labelled as the Wiggenweld Potion, but Hermione recognized the ingredients. Or at least, she was sure she did. But it was different, dissimilar. Her hand moved to her textbook and Snape glared at her harshly.

"Miss Granger, the lauded exception;" Professor Snape growled, "perhaps you could return your book to your bag and tell me which potion is on the board before you."

Hermione obeyed nervously. He hadn't glared at her like that ever. "It looks a lot like the Wiggenweld Potion, sir."

His eyes sharpened. "How surprising. You guessed correctly."

The scathing reply left he gaping like a fish at the Professor.

"I'm sure, since you are such an exceptional student," his voice was like a knife, "that you will be fine to brew this potion alone."

Before she could protest, he finished his own query. "Of course you can: you wouldn't have been arrogant enough to sit apart from your classmates if you weren't confident in your own brewing abilities."

Her jaw clenched shut from her gaping into a tight grind. Why was he being so mean?

"With the stunning exception of Miss Granger, you will be brewing in pairs," Snape addressed the rest of the class. "Begin with one of you setting up your station and the other retrieving the ingredients from the storeroom. Miss June, you will let your partner grab your ingredients; no need to waste valuable items by covering you in them once more."

The students might have chuckled if they weren't so scared of Professor Snape. They jumped up and went to work, and Hermione with them. Arrogant, he'd called her arrogant! She was fuming as she hurriedly assembled her Potions station with her cauldron and devices, trying to light the burner to warm the cauldron base. All she had was flint, though, so she struggled with it.

"Are you even a witch?" One of the Slytherins huffed as he passed her, scathing in his retort.

"Any magic near the cauldron before a brew could tamper with it," Hermione hissed at him, turning off the burner and trying to wave away the gas before trying again. She liked her eyebrows where they were, thank you very much. Finally, she got the flame going and laughed in glee. "Yes!"

"Miss Granger," Snape bit from his desk, "do not disturb your peers, or you will be losing points."

She shrank a little, but nodded. Turning down the flame low enough that it was simply warming the cauldron, Hermione ran off to the storeroom to retrieve her ingredients.

"Miss Granger!" She whirled around to see livid black eyes at her back. "We do not leave unattended flames at our stations!"

He had seen her lighting it without a single ingredient at her station, but hadn't told her to change course until after the time had already been wasted. Hermione knew she couldn't blame him, it was a safety thing with the fire, but it irked her that not only had she not realized it but that Professor Snape hadn't told her earlier while she was struggling to light it. It would make it harder to finish the potion in time if she had to relight the burner and start again, but the look in his eyes was not to be questioned. She shut off her burner before making her way to the cupboard of ingredients everyone else seemed to be going for and looked around at the shelves to try and find what she was looking for.

She collected most things without incident, but when it got to the dried mint sprig, it was impossible!

All the leaves looked the same to her! In the book they weren't already plucked but on trees or bushes or stalks, and now the leaves looked too similar when dried and piled in baskets. She had the other ingredients – they had the sense to be labelled – but the herbs themselves were not labeled at all. Which one was the mint?

A hand beside her startled her and she nearly fell over in the storeroom. Professor Snape. He plucked a sprig from a basket on the shelf and extended it to her. A veritable olive branch, but a silent one. She gaped.

"I could swear I had labels on all the ingredients in these stores," Professor Snape told her meaningfully.

Her heart stopped. The other students … someone had deliberately set her up to fail. They had removed the name cards so she would pick the wrong ingredient and ruin her potion. The memory of a hundred noogies, multiple skirt raisings, and thousands of shoves that left her with scrapes and bruises made her stiffen. It was only the first day at this new school, and they already knew she was the odd one out. The freak.

"I would get started on your brew, Miss Granger," Professor Snape prodded tersely. She grabbed the sprig and pit it in her little basket. "Perhaps, while you do, I will hunt for my labels."

Hermione scuttled quickly from the closet, not wanting to get in the way. She needn't have worried, as Professor Snape followed her out and raised a wand to the class.

"I have often stated that I do not appreciate any interference in the potion stores," he said silkily. "You have five seconds in which to admit your guilt before I simply summon the evidence from your pockets."

Immediately a partner group of Ravenclaws produced the parchment labels from their pockets and presented them to the Professor.

"I thought so," he pocketed his wand and glared at the offending girls. "For coming forward, your punishment will be less severe ..." The girls looked up in hope, but were quickly shot down. "That will be 5 points each from Ravenclaw and detention on Friday night with your Head of House. And on the first day back, too. How … disappointing."

The rest of the Double Potions class was tense and mostly silent. Hermione was nearly too small to reach her cauldron well and had practically been climbing on the countertop until Snape had deemed her a hazard to the class and had conjured her an embarrassingly childish, pink stepping stool. They had snickered at her, but at least now she could reach and watch the colours of the potion she was making.

She jumped a little and added too much honey water as the Professor yelled at the students behind her. "Mister Ward! Have you forgotten all of your previous education?! Your knives are dull, your station is a mess of ingredients, and you have mixed up your sloth brain mucus with your billywig sting slime! They are not even similar!"

There was a shaking nervousness in her spine, but she persevered despite the mishaps behind and in front of her. It was tense-going but Hermione finished her brew with a little time to spare - enough to let her breathe a sigh of relief. It had ended up off-colour, dark blue instead of a lighter turquoise and had been seeking an answer. The honey-water obviously, but it seemed she also hadn't used the right setting on her burner an had overheated her mixture. It was partly intentional, she admitted to herself; to get the potion done, she had turned up the heat between phases to get the potions simmering again after an ingredient was added.

But the recipe was just so different from the one that had been there in her text she just couldn't be sure that was the only thing wrong. She noted the changes in the margins with her pen – Hermione Granger would not let this go. Researching the changes would be on the top of her to-do list.

Ten minutes before the bell rang for lunch, Professor Snape strode back to the front of the class and erased the instructions on the board, panicking a few people who hadn't yet finished.

He strode up to her cooling cauldron and gave her a glaring eye. "Congratulations, your mixture might just be strong enough to wake a mouse." The Slytherins laughed. "Should you wish to make healing potions for people however, you have failed. Perhaps next time you should ask assistance from your vastly more informed peers."

He then turned to the rest of the room,

"If you have not finished yet, you will not," he growled. "All potions off the heat!"

People hurried to follow their instructions.

"This has been most disappointing," he intoned lowly. "This potion is one of six potential potions selected for exams at the end of the year. And from how few of you even managed to finish your brews, even to the dismal standard of Miss Granger, you have a very long way to go."

He billowed as he paced the front of the class. "To make up for your abysmal performance, you will write two feet on the Wiggenweld Potion that will include the conditions under which you would ever administer it, and the consequences for administering potion where, like Mister Ward, you confused two of the ingredients and added them in the wrong order. You will have this done in a week."

Hermione scrambled to write down the assignment in her day planner, including the required information. She would not fail in her written assignment like she did in class.

"Now," Professor Snape growled, "I'm sure I needn't remind you to clean your knives and your mixers, and I'm certain you will not disrespect me by leaving your stations in anything less than pristine condition. I expect your cutting boards cleaned and any and all spills, dustings, or other contaminants clear from your station before the bell rings. Any messy stations will lose five points for their house. Go!"

Hermione had already wiped off her station, so she focused on bottling a portion of her potion and turning it in at the front before cleaning her cauldron and packing everything up. She felt a nervous pull in her stomach as Professor Snape stared intently at her vial, clearly assessing its quality more closely than he had at her station before marking down something in a little book on his desk. Her grade, she guessed with a worried bit of her lip. It was only hope that let her believe he would be gracious with his grading where he wasn't with his words.

"Miss Granger, you will remain after class," the Professor called.

Her heart stopped. It was clear he thought she'd done horribly in class, but would he be sending her back to first-year because of it? The worry ate at her until the last of the class trickled from the room and Professor Snape closed the door behind them.

At this point, Hermione was close to tears in worry and disappointment at her performance and had her head bowed so Professor Snape couldn't see the glistening in her eyes. She was just so embarrassed.

"Miss Granger," here it comes, "for your first class in my subject, the potion you made – while working alone – was better than I expected."

What? The tears still shimmering in her eyes, Hermione looked up to see her Professor as serious as ever, but this time serious in his praise. She gaped.

"You will improve drastically, of course, with our lessons," he continued, ignoring her shock, "but for a first effort it was adequate. Did your parents aid in your preparation for this as well?"

Hermione barely managed to squeak out a. "Yes, sir."

He observed her. "Using the textbook?"

"Yes, sir."

That seemed to appease Professor Snape for the moment, as his confrontational posture relaxed from crossed arms to hands clasped behind his back. "Good. Now, you are aware of your additional time in my classroom this afternoon?"

Hermione nodded frenetically, dislodging some of her braid into frizz around her head. Snape smirked down at her.

"You will be helping me fix my storeroom," he explained. "For today, at least. Next week I'll have essays for you to look over – not grade, but read for learning – but today we will work on your knowledge of ingredients. It should help prevent today's … mishap … from occurring again."

Relief flooded through her system and she launched forward, grabbing the Professor in a tight hug. He was still the same as the summer, still nice. He praised her and wanted to protect her from ever feeling as helpless as she had in the store cupboard again.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

His gruff shout could be heard from all across the castle.

"Miss Granger!"