A/N
So, it's been a while. I blame far too much coursework and getting a job. I quite enjoy this chapter, I think it's a nice mix of social stuff and giving a look at the magic system I want to use. Hope you all enjoy it too, and thanks for reading.
Chapter 5 – School Begins
The Great Hall was near silent when the Potter boys arrived for breakfast. Years of waking with the sun to accommodate the Dursleys had ruined them for sleeping in, so the two first years had plenty of time to get down and settled into their food before the first of their peers started to arrive. Though a few Gryffindors gave them friendly greetings, only Hermione and Neville joined them, at least until Ron slouched into the Hall. Clearly the boy wasn't a morning person.
"Good morning Ron." Harry greeted cheerfully, as Ron piled his plate high with bacon, sausages, pancakes, and other breakfast foods. Ron glanced up, already shovelling food into his mouth.
"M'rn'n" He replied. Jon felt his expression pull in disgust at the slight spray that flew from Ron's mouth. After a decade of meagre food at the Dursley's, Jon thought he would never turn down a meal, but the sight of Ron's eating habits had put an end to what was left of his appetite.
The sound of the morning mail was a welcome distraction. Hundreds of owls of many varieties swooped into the hall, delivering the first batch of letters and parcels and that morning's paper. Jon was struck by the spectacle of it; never had he seen so many owls in one place and it was an impressive sight to behold. A familiar white owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table, coming to an impressively controlled stop on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled and reached up to stroke Hedwig, feeding her pieces of bacon from his plate as she preened under the attention.
"Look!" Hermione exclaimed turning her paper so the others could see the bold headline. "'Gringotts break in latest'," She read aloud, "'Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on the 31st of July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.' I thought Gringotts was the safest place in Britain."
Neville folded his copy, with a frown on his face. "It's meant to be, except for maybe Hogwarts."
Neville opened his mouth to continue but stopped as he saw Professor McGonagall approaching with a bundle of papers in hand. "Your timetables." She said, separating five from the pile and passing them to the small group of first years. Jon took his with a 'thank you' and looked to see how his weeks would be organised for the rest of the year. Double Transfiguration first. By Hermione's excited squeal, she had noticed that too.
With not much time before class, they each hurried back to their dorms to collect the supplies they would need, then made their way as best they could to class.
Despite the best efforts of the moving staircase and Hogwarts' winding corridors, no one was late to Transfiguration. Though it didn't seem to matter as when the clock struck nine there was no sign of Professor McGonagall. There was only a very peculiar looking cat sat upon her desk, staring quite unnervingly at the assembled first years.
As the last of the students filed in and every seat was filled, the cat sprang from the desk in a blur of motion and transformed into Professor McGonagall. In the stunned silence, only Ron's voice could be heard. "That was bloody brilliant."
"Thank you for that assessment Mr Weasley." McGonagall paused and swept a stern eye over the class. She has a habit of doing that, Jon noted. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone found to be slacking in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." If her words failed to cow anyone, her severe tone and intimidating gaze fixed that. Then, without warning, McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and back again.
Thoroughly impressed, the class happily accepted their assignment of transfiguring matches into needles. As the majority of the class started yelling the incantation Jon took a moment to think. It seemed impossible that a few spoken words could transform one thing into another, yet McGonagall had managed it without nothing more than a wave of her wand. The first-year transfiguration book had specified one thing in it's very first pages before delving into all the different magical words to say and wand movements to do; that had been intent and focus. To transfigure an object, one must have a clear picture of what they intend to do and they must be focussed on that picture for the duration of the transformation. Jon took a deep breath and imagined the match in front of him becoming a needle. Holding that in his mind, Jon moved his wand very deliberately in the way shown and spoke very clearly the incantation. A ripple seemed to pass over the match as its colour changed to silver and one end narrowed almost to a point. When Jon picked up the match the texture was still wood despite the colour being silver. Close, but not quite.
Jon stopped again to consider what went wrong. He had done every step, he had focussed his intent, produced the correct wand movement and said the right incantation. So why wasn't the match a needle? Maybe he hadn't been clear enough in what he wanted? Jon considered what a needle looked like; the eye at one end, the thin metal body and the sharp point. Keeping this image in mind, Jon pictured the red head of the match flattening and a hole forming, he pictured the body of the match becoming slender and the wood smoothing and hardening into metal. He pictured the bottom of the match thinning to a point and that point becoming sharp to the touch. With the transformation fully in mind, Jon repeated the incantation and wand movements exactly. The match rippled again, this time becoming the exact needle Jon held in his mind's eye.
"Very good Mr Potter." Came McGonagall's voice from over his shoulder, "Take ten points for Gryffindor. Perhaps you could spend the rest of this class helping your friends." Jon nodded, slightly embarrassed at being so oblivious to his surroundings and getting singled out. He turned to Hermione who immediately began questioning just how he had managed it.
By the end of the double period, only Jon and Hermione had managed to fully transform their needles into matches. Harry had managed to make his become silver and pointed, but couldn't turn the wood into metal or create the needle's eye.
Despite the productive start to the day in Transfiguration, things went rapidly downhill after lunch for the first-years. From the sound of it, Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been one of the most interesting classes and certainly the material was engaging enough. It was the teacher that made this class difficult. As they filed into the room, Jon's nose was assaulted by the overpowering stench of garlic. It was rumoured that on his travels abroad, Professor Quirrell had run afoul of a vampire that had terrified him so badly that he now kept cloves of garlic around whenever he could and couldn't speak without the worst, most obnoxious stutter that Jon had ever heard.
Not only was it a chore to listen to the teacher, but it also seemed that despite his experience Quirrell didn't have anything particularly interesting to say. What little Jon could understand was more often than not directly from the textbook. The one break from monotony in the single period was a sharp gasp of pain from Harry, which he was quick to dismiss as nothing more than a headache. Jon resolved to read ahead for this course, and make his notes directly from the book rather than attempting to decipher what Quirrell had to say.
Though the end of Defence was a relief, History of Magic turned out to be even worse. The teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost. Binns had died of old age one night while grading papers and had gotten up the next day to teach classes as if nothing had changed. While a ghost teacher may sound interesting, the reality was quite the opposite. After taking the register, Binns began reciting the textbook verbatim in the dullest droning voice to ever be heard by man. The effect of his voice was so powerful that by the end of the single period almost the entirety of the class had fallen asleep. Hermione was the only one who had managed to stay awake. Even Jon had closed bleary eyes by the midpoint of the class, startling awake with everyone else when the bell rang.
Above all others, Jon found charms fascinating. The charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was an incredibly short fellow. If Hagrid had some kind of giant heritage then it seemed very likely to Jon that Flitwick had some goblin blood in him. The resemblance between the goblins of Gringotts and Professor Flitwick was too blatant to dismiss.
Their double period on Tuesday morning started off comically, when the diminutive Professor squeaked and fell off his stack of books when he came to Harry's name. Though funny, it also served to distract the other children from Harry who was always singled out in class, making both Potter boys appreciate Flitwick that little bit more. After the register, Flitwick moved on to his lecture.
"A spell is defined as a charm if it adds some effect to an object or creature. For example, the levitation charm causes an object to levitate, the fire-making charm causes an object to be set on fire. If a charm directly causes a negative affect on another person, it is referred to as either a curse, jinx or hex, which are collectively known as 'dark charms'. The majority of these you will learn both how to cast and how to counter in Defence Against the Dark Arts, while this class will focus more on the more benign charms that exist. However, even the most benign charms can still be harmful if applied dangerously, therefore I expect nothing but your best behaviour in my class especially while practicing spells.
Similar to the majority of magics, charms require both intent and focus. You must know what it is you wish to do and be precise in both incantation and wand movement to focus your magic. When a charm is cast poorly it will fail, and could have undesired effects or even backfire on the caster, so proper concentration is very important in this class."
Flitwick continued his lecture for the rest of the double period and while the majority of class became bored at the increasingly technical lecture, both Jon and Hermione were enraptured by the precise discipline that is charms. At the end of the class Jon had once again made the commitment to read ahead for a class; this time out of an interest in the subject rather than a lack of faith in the teacher.
By Wednesday morning, the only class yet to be had was Potions. Both Herbology and Astronomy took place the previous afternoon and night respectively, and while Jon liked the teachers, Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra, the classes themselves were quite dull for everyone bar Neville. Demonstrated by his depth of knowledge and experience with the subject, Neville's love of herbology did indeed translate into skill. He quickly became Sprout's favourite as he was able to answer every question she posed with enthusiasm that surpassed even Hermione's.
After their double period of Defence that morning, the Gryffindor first-years were already a bit done in and not particularly eager for Potions class that afternoon. "Fred and George warned me about him, and even Percy has nothing good to say about Snape." Ron was saying between, and sometimes during, bites of his lunch. "He's the Head of Slytherin, and he's super biased against Gryffindors. Fred was even saying that he's a vampire and that's why he's always so pale and why he teaches and sleeps in the dungeons!"
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Honestly Ronald, as if the Headmaster would let a vampire teach here. And its Professor Snape, you really should be more respectful."
Not eager to upset their teacher, especially if he is as biased as Ron claims, the first-years arrived early and took seats in the classroom to wait for their teacher. As the clock struck 1 Snape burst through the door, allowing it to slam behind him. A hush fell over the class.
"There will be no foolish wand waving, or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potions making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
The entire class was enraptured as Snape spoke, both intimidated and impressed. Few had taken the time to get their supplies out of their bags, and only Harry was noting what it was that Snape had said. Snape's eyes fell on Harry as he scratched away with his quill.
"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possessions of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!" Snape was glaring daggers at Harry, who had failed to notice even as Snape's tone became sharper. Jon nudged him, causing Harry to look up. He dropped his quill to the desk, immediately chastised.
"Ah, Mr Potter." Snape drawled, contempt in his tone. "Our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Instantly it was clear that Harry didn't know, but despite reading through the entire first-year textbook for potions Jon didn't know either. Snape was asking questions above their level to embarrass them. "Either of you?" Snape asked, looking now to Jon.
"I don't know, sir." Jon said, reigning in his anger.
"Pity. Well, let's try again. Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" Snape stared at each boy in turn.
"In the stomach of a goat sir, a bezoar is a cure for most poisons." Jon said, doing his best to keep his voice even. Bezoars were mentioned at the very end of the textbook in the section on antidotes to common poisons.
Snape sneered, his attention leaving Harry to focus entirely on Jon. "Not entirely useless. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Jon almost smiled, this one was also in the textbook, though only as trivia on the section concerning aconite. "They are the same plant sir, a common potions ingredient also known as aconite."
Snape held Jon's gaze for a few moments more before turning to glare over the rest of the class. "Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood are ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. Why aren't the rest of you writing any of this down?" There was a rustle as most of his class mates reached into their bags to retrieve their supplies. Jon breathed a slight sigh of relief; despite not being able to answer all three questions correctly, he seemed to have displayed enough knowledge to pass Snape's strange test.
Snape went on to outline what he would be teaching them for the rest of the year, and when the bell rang Jon was extremely relieved to be leaving the tense atmosphere of the dungeon classroom.
Come Thursday of the second week at Hogwarts, there was a definite buzz amongst the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins over breakfast. Starting that morning and running for three weeks, they would be learning to fly. Some, like Draco and Ron, were bragging to everyone who would listen about their vast experience of flying, and Draco even claimed that he had once out-raced a muggle 'airy-plane' on the broom he had at Malfoy Manor.
Despite the best efforts of Jon, Harry, and Neville, Hermione was more nervous for this than she had been for any of their classes so far. There were no books on how to fly and it was widely agreed that flying was largely a combination of practice and innate skill. This didn't sit well with Hermione. As the boys were trying to console her, that day's post arrived. A regal looking horned owl swooped down and landed in front of Neville, with a letter and a small parcel attached to its leg.
Neville quickly scanned through the letter. His faced coloured ever so slightly as he finished the letter and opened the attached parcel. "What have you got there Neville?" Harry asked. Neville held a small glass sphere with a band of gold around the middle.
"It's a remembrall, the smoke is meant to turn red when you've forgotten something." As he said this, the smoke within turned from a dull grey to a blood red. Neville furrowed his brow and sighed in frustration, "The problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten."
They shared a laugh over the not particularly helpful object, before heading down to the grounds. Madam Hooch, who taught flying at Hogwarts at the start of each year, waited with a line of brooms either side of her. "Good morning all," She greeted with a smile once everyone had arrived, "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, step up to the left side of your broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say up."
"Up!" Jon said in time with the others. His broom leapt immediately to his hand, as did Harry's. Hermione gave them both a sharp look, before focussing on her own broom.
"With feeling!" Instructed Madam Hooch, as slowly each member of the class got their broom to rise into their hand. Hermione's broom spent a while rolling around on the ground before finally rising to her hand; though she had more luck than Ron, who's broom shot so violently from the ground that it whacked him in the nose. When eventually everyone had a firm grip on their broom, Hooch moved on with the lesson.
"Now, once you've got hold of your broom I want you to mount it. Grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On the count of three. One, two -" Before Hooch could blow the whistle, Neville's nerves got the better of him and he kicked off hard, clearly harder than he expected. Off balance, Neville leaned back causing his broom to float even higher.
Neville looked to Hooch for help, but before she could do any more than call his name Neville's lack of balance struck again as he fell forward in a bid to stop rising. Neville hung on for dear life as the broom took off, heading straight up before veering towards the castle wall. The broom twisted, doing barrel rolls that would have made even the most experienced flier nauseas, before finally bouncing off the castle wall and shaking its terrified rider. Neville dropped straight down, his saving grace was an empty brazier which caught his cloak, breaking his fall from the fourth storey of the castle. Unable to support his entire weight, Neville's cloak finally tore and he fell the rest of the way to the ground with a thud. Madam Hooch was the first to Neville's side.
"Come on, come on." She said, gently helping Neville sit up. As Hooch touched his arm Neville let out a moan of pain. "Ooh dear, it's a broken wrist. Come on now, up you get." Madam Hooch kept her arm under Neville as she helped him to his feet and began to escort him indoors. "Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."
There was silence for a moment as everyone dealt with the shock of the violent end to their first flying lesson. Jon could see Hermione had gone pale and her eyes were wide. "Did you see his face?" Draco's voice cut through the quiet, as he held Neville's remembrall in front of him for all to see. "Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse." The Slytherins laughed, though Jon thought it was more at Neville than at the joke itself.
"Give it here Malfoy." Harry said, stepping forward, his anger evident on his face.
Draco sneered, "No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it." He grabbed his broom, making to mount it.
"Draco." Jon said, making eye contact with the blonde boy, "That would be stealing, in front of all these witnesses as well." Draco hesitated, looking down at the remembrall in his hand, then up to all the students with their attention focussed solely on him.
"Fine," he snarled, throwing the remembrall to the ground. "It's a worthless bauble anyway."
"Thank you." Jon said, trying to remain polite as he picked up the remembrall. With the drama clearly over, the class broke into muttered conversation as they waited for Madam Hooch to return.
After classes that day, Jon, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all went to visit Neville in the Hospital Wing. Jon took the opportunity to return Neville's remembrall, which Neville thanked him profusely for. "I never would have heard the end of it if Gran had found out that I'd lost it on the day she sent it to me." Neville said, his relief clear.
"I'm just glad nothing drastic happened, Malfoy looked like he was about to fly off with it and we all know you would have followed him Harry." Hermione said, "Who knows what could've happened, you might have ended up in the Hospital Wing too!"
Come the next flying lesson, Harry would prove that he was in fact a very good flier, and would receive encouragement from Madam Hooch to try out for the Quidditch team when he reached second year.
A/N
Yup, I'm not doing quidditch. I don't really see a need for it, though it may pop up in second year.