Different
Chapter 3
Arthur only struggled more and more in Potions. There was a lot to learn and very little time, especially with the O.W.L.s hanging over his head. It wasn't that Arthur didn't know the properties of the ingredients…he just didn't have a proper handling on the techniques. When he read the techniques required in his textbook, he understood it perfectly. But in front of a cauldron? That was a very different story.
When faced with the bubbling solution, something in Arthur's mind went…blank. All of a sudden, everything he knew about brewing the potion flew out of his head. He found himself checking the textbook twice, even thrice, and he would still make mistakes. And even when he double-checked what he was doing, he would realize the instructions read, "Make sure you immediately do so-and-so," which Arthur, of course, hadn't done. If the bloody recipe had bolded the text, perhaps, then maybe Arthur wouldn't have screwed up!
But as the year wore on, the techniques were becoming more complicated. More magic was required, even the use of his wand several times in order to properly prepare the ingredients. He sometimes had no idea what to add now that some of the potions were becoming "skill based", as Professor Slughorn liked to put it. Skill based potions, to put it simply, were potions that had shortened instructions because there were certain procedures you were just expected to know how to perform, some ingredients you were expected to know how to prepare, and so on and so forth.
It did nothing but give Arthur a headache and a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that, for the first time in his life, he was failing.
And that moronic, egotistical, air-headed golden boy named Alfred F. Jones was Professor Slughorn's star pupil.
Damn it all to hell.
It didn't help matters that his brother Stewart had excelled in potions when he went to Hogwarts. Wynn and Conor had done relatively well, and Peter had already come up to him exclaiming that Potions was probably his favorite class. It was just another disappointment his family would have when it came to him.
Arthur sighed. It seemed he had no other choice. He was doing well in every subject except for this one, and he wasn't a fool. He realized he needed help, and he needed it fast. Walking through the corridor to the Potions room in the dungeon, Arthur contemplated exactly how he would approach Professor Slughorn with his problem. 'You see, sir, it has come to my attention that I might be a tad bit behind my classmates' or 'I regret to inform you that the material this year is far more complex than previously expected' or 'I have no fucking clue how to brew potions'.
With those thoughts in mind, Arthur tentatively knocked on the door to the classroom. With no immediate response, Arthur opened the door and let himself in.
There, sitting in a chair by Professor Slughorn's desk, was Alfred. Both men were engrossed in a conversation about who-knows-what, and Arthur felt a sense of déjà vu from when he had walked in on Alfred and the headmaster only a few weeks before.
Arthur went unnoticed by both student and professor, so he coughed slightly into this hand to gain their attention. Both whipped their heads around immediately at the noise.
"Oh, Mr. Kirkland, do come in, my son!" chirped Professor Slughorn happily while gesturing to his desk. "Alfred and I were just discussing the latest potion my advanced seventh-year class is currently brewing. I must say, this boy has such a future in potions ahead of him!" The professor looked proudly at his star pupil, his eyes shining. Alfred smiled back at the professor, and then up at Arthur.
Arthur quickly averted his eyes. Ever since Alfred had joined the Quidditch team, he hadn't been following Arthur around at all. For once, he must've figured out that Arthur couldn't stand his presence. Alfred had, in fact, made many friends in Gryffindor due to his new status. His first year here, technically, and he had already made the team. And not only that, but he was American, a foreigner with admittedly good looks and a charming smile that made every girl in the school swoon. Alfred, apparently, was showing a lot of potential on the field during the Gryffindor team's practices. Arthur couldn't imagine just how great his ego had gotten with all this added attention.
But Arthur couldn't help feeling awkward with Alfred's eyes on him. After all, he had pretty much told Alfred to back off and leave him alone. Not to mention the fact that Arthur was still interested in finding out more about American wizarding culture.
Arthur looked back up at his professor. Well, he certainly didn't want to have a conversation about failing Potions with Alfred sitting right there. "U-um, professor, sir, I really need to speak with you about something…" he said, rubbing one of his arms nervously.
"Well then, talk away!"
"In private, sir…" Arthur said, finally looking to Alfred. Professor Slughorn nodded, and sent Alfred to wait on the other side of the classroom.
Still aware of Alfred's presence, and quite disappointed that Professor Slughorn hadn't made Alfred leave the classroom at the very least, Arthur leaned in towards the professor and spoke quietly, "Sir, I appear to be having…trouble with Potions this year. I-I haven't managed to brew a single successful potion, and I'm trying very hard, but I was wondering if there was any way you could offer me some extra help?" Arthur bit his bottom lip.
Professor Slughorn chuckled. "Is that it? You sounded so serious, Mr. Kirkland! Alfred, come here, why don't you?" he said. Alfred walked over and stood before Arthur and the professor. "Alfred, can you help tutor Mr. Kirkland? He seems to be having trouble with Potions, and I've seen you two hang around before! I'm sure you'll whip him into a potions master in no time!"
"Sure thing, Professor!" Alfred said happily.
Arthur felt like someone had just told him he'd have to dance around the Slytherin common room naked.
His throat was caught, and for a second he couldn't say how much he disagreed with this decision. "U-uh, professor, are you sure-"
Before Arthur could get a word in edgewise, Professor Slughorn had already shakily stood up to pat Alfred on the shoulder, excitedly conversing about how Alfred would no doubt do an excellent job of preparing Arthur for the upcoming O.W.L.s. Arthur wanted to bang his head against a rock.
How could he have not seen this coming? Why couldn't he have just asked the Professor for help when Alfred wasn't in the room? He didn't need to be tutored by someone as bigheaded as Alfred. This would only add to his image of self-importance, not to mention it would take away Arthur's dignity.
But it was too late. The decision had been made, and Arthur felt like an outcast between the two men before him, discussing tutoring methods and different books to use, as if Arthur wasn't there.
"Man, Artie, I knew you were bad at potions, but I didn't know you were this bad!" Alfred said to Arthur as they walked away from the Potions classroom. Alfred and Professor Slughorn had gotten into a very intense conversation about the use of bibblestem extract, nearly putting Arthur to sleep. While Arthur was dozing, apparently, Professor Slughorn had decided to reveal Arthur's scores so far for the semester.
"…he says you're doing so freakin' badly with the potions, but that all your essays and junk are, like, really detailed and perfect. That's the opposite of me. Give me instructions and I'll brew you a kickass potion, but give me a writing assignment, and you're lucky if it's even worth a C+!"
Although Arthur hadn't been listening too much to Alfred's rambling, the C+ part grabbed his attention. "What's a C+? Don't you mean a P? Or perhaps a D?" Arthur asked.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot that you guys use some weird wizarding grading system…what does P stand for again?"
"It stands for Poor, you dolt," Arthur answered. "What does a C stand for? And why the plus?"
Alfred laughed. "The C doesn't stand for anything, and the plus is there because, well, a C+ is better than just a regular old C."
"What do you mean the C doesn't stand for anything? How will you know how well you've done?" Arthur asked. Honestly, a grading system where the letters stood for nothing? How did these American academies function?
"It's just a scale from F to A, F being the lowest and A being the highest…I guess F stands for fail, though, but that's the only letter I know that actually stands for something…" Alfred answered while leading them up a flight of stairs.
"So then what happens when you get an E? Is that considered passing?"
Alfred just laughed again, causing Arthur to furrow his brows. "And just what the bloody hell is so funny?"
"N-nothing," Alfred said, trying to hold back his chuckles. "It's just that everything is so different over here, you know?" He looked at Arthur, as if he expected him to understand. With no response, he continued, "Also, there's no E in the grading system. It's A, B, C, D, and F. We skip the letter E."
Arthur sighed. He should have known. The United States of America made absolutely no sense whatsoever. "I can't imagine what your Muggle grading system must be like…" Arthur muttered as they walked down a hallway. Arthur had no idea where Alfred was leading him, but apparently he knew a "really awesome place to study".
"That is the Muggle grading system. We use it," Alfred said simply, turning a corner until they were in front of a portrait of a very plump woman.
"What? Why would you use the Muggle's grading system?" Arthur asked.
"Well, what's the point of changing the grading system? It'd be too confusing to keep converting grades like that."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. What the hell were American schools like? "I have no idea what you're talking about. Just explain it to me later, preferably after you tell me why we've stopped in front of a painting," Arthur said, gesturing before him.
The woman in the painting was looking warily at Arthur for some reason. Alfred smiled at her and spoke. "Hello, ma'am! Fanged Geranium!"
Arthur looked to Alfred as if he were insane. "What are you on about, Jones?"
"Oh!" said Alfred, turning to face Arthur. "This here is the Painted Lady. She leads to the Gryffindor common room!"
"What?" Arthur shouted, but before he knew it, the Painted Lady moved to reveal a hidden doorway to the Gryffindor common room. Arthur's eyes were wide. He wasn't supposed to know where Gryffindor common room was. He wasn't allowed anywhere near it! "Jones…" Arthur whispered in a daze.
"It's Alfred, and c'mon Artie," Alfred said as he walked through the doorway. A glow of crimson and gold shone behind him. Arthur looked all around the entranceway, as if there were booby traps hidden somewhere specifically to catch Slytherin students.
By that time, Alfred had noticed that Arthur still hadn't walked inside. Turning around, Alfred gave him a puzzled look. "What's wrong, dude?"
"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, shocked. "I'm not going in there! It's not allowed!"
"What do you mean?"
"Jones! I know you're naïve, but if we're not allowed to sit at the same table, what makes you think we'd be allowed to go into each other's common rooms?" There was no getting through this boy's thick head! He just didn't understand the customs and the social order of Hogwarts.
Alfred sighed. "Arthur, all my stuff's in here. We'll just head to my room and work. It's not like we're doing anything bad or something…"
Arthur fidgeted on the spot. It seemed he really had no other choice. It was for his education, after all… But they couldn't even go to the library?
"What about the library? Why can't we study there?"
Alfred sighed. "It's obvious you're smart when it comes to books, but you suck at actually brewing the potions. We can't do that in the library." His expression was resolute.
Letting out a sigh, Arthur walked through the doorway into the Gryffindor common room. As soon as he stepped inside, all the students gave them a look…a very unwelcome look. Arthur tried not to notice their staring and focused on Alfred instead. He was currently walking up a flight of stairs, no doubt leading to the dormitories. Arthur followed suit, and soon they were both entering the fourth-year boy dormitories. The messiest bed was probably Alfred's, Arthur assumed.
There was another person in the room. He had a pale complexion, complete with silver hair and red eyes. If Arthur was correct, he believed his name was Gilbert.
Gilbert's eyes narrowed as he saw the two of them walking in. "Hey Jones, what's the big idea bringing Kirkland in here?" he asked as he glared at Arthur.
Alfred didn't seem to realize the tension in the atmosphere. "I'm tutoring this guy because he sucks ass at Potions!" he said while pointing his thumb towards Arthur behind him. Arthur huffed and crossed his arms.
Although it appeared as if Gilbert wanted to laugh at Alfred's comment, he managed to keep a straight face and responded, "You're not supposed to bring Slytherin scum in here, Alfred. It's very not awesome."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't be saying anything, Gilbert. You've broken more rules than that blasted poltergeist Peeves has. And besides," Arthur said, his tone taking on an air of importance, "I'm a Prefect. I can do as I please."
"Whatever dude," Gilbert said as he clambered off his bed and began to walk toward the door. But, before he left the room, he whispered into Alfred's ear, "Just because you're the new big shot in Gryffindor doesn't mean you get special privileges." And with that, he walked out the door.
Now alone, Arthur stood awkwardly by the doorway while Alfred made himself comfortable. "Alfred…?" Arthur asked tentatively. Didn't all of this negative attention by his peers bother Alfred in the slightest?
"Yeah?" Alfred responded as he began to push around piles of junk that littered the floor by his bed, making room for both of them to sit and study.
Arthur frowned. "Don't any of those looks bother you?" Arthur asked, walking towards Alfred and sitting in the spot that he had just cleared on the floor.
"What looks?" Alfred asked, looking at Arthur with a smile on his face. Arthur couldn't believe that anyone was this oblivious.
Before Arthur could further clarify, Alfred was already pulling out a pile of books out from under his bed. There were titles such as Memory Potions and their Effect on Neuron Signaling Pathways, The Quantum Mechanical Theories Behind Charms, and Astrophysics for Morons. Reading these titles, Arthur felt like the moron. He didn't understand any of it. If Arthur hadn't known better, he'd say that these were Muggle topics.
But that couldn't be right. Perhaps American wizarding academies had a different curriculum… a very different curriculum, by the looks of it.
Arthur looked around him some more. In a corner by Alfred's nightstand were textbooks Hogwarts had assigned. Amongst the pile was a book on Muggle Studies.
Ah. So Alfred was interested in Muggles.
Arthur tried not to overreact. There were plenty of other students who took Muggle Studies…students who actually liked Muggles and their pathetic ways… It didn't stop anger from festering inside of Arthur. He couldn't stand Muggles. He loathed them all, especially a certain Muggle who made his life a living hell…
But he shouldn't be thinking about that. After all, at least he was still in Slytherin, somehow…
It was just…why was Alfred taking such a class? Didn't he realize that wizards and Muggles shouldn't mix? That there should be no associating with Muggles if you were a respectable wizard?
Their blood was filthy. Impure. Tainted. They were ignorant and thought they owned the world, while little did they know that there was a better society hiding behind their backs all this time. Muggles contributed nothing of value to society. In Arthur's opinion, they should be considered lesser beings.
Which was precisely why Arthur's siblings treated him as such.
"So…I see you're taking Muggle Studies…" Arthur tried to mention offhandedly.
"Huh?" Alfred said, pulling out a cauldron that had been tucked away under his bed, along with a few potion books and some ingredients. 'Alfred must really love Potions…' Arthur thought.
"I said, I see you're taking Muggle Studies, Jones," Arthur said cooly.
"Oh, yeah! I'm pretty interested in learning how you guys here in England view Muggle society. Also, I heard that class was an easy A. Oh wait! I mean O!" Alfred corrected with a smirk on his face. How Arthur wanted to wipe that smirk off…and he didn't really know why.
"Well, I can tell you that here in England, there are many wizards who despise Muggles…surely it's the same in America?" he asked curiously.
"Uh, I guess there are a few witches and wizards who don't like Muggles," Alfred said thoughtfully, a hand scratching his head, "but I think our wizarding society cares more about integration rather than separation."
Arthur's eyes grew wide. Integration? With Muggle society? Arthur knew that, yes, sacrifices had to be made to live in modern society where Muggles still existed, but integrating the societies together? "Are you fucking kidding me?" Arthur whispered, more to himself than to Alfred, who hadn't noticed Arthur's comment at all.
The whole situation seemed to intrigue Arthur, but disgust him at the same time. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what America was like anymore if a majority were friendly toward the Muggle population.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Now was not the time to start picking arguments with Alfred. He needed his help, after all. They should be focusing on Potions, not Arthur's inane questions. He quickly changed the subject.
"So, have you always enjoyed Potions?" Arthur asked as he watched Alfred set up the cauldron, heating the bottom with a spell that wouldn't accidently set the carpet on fire.
"You bet!" was Alfred's distracted response. After he was done setting up the materials, he looked up at Arthur. "It's just like chemistry!"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What the bloody hell is chemistry?"
Now Alfred's eyes widened. "You don't know chemistry? Like, you don't know about atoms or molecules or solutions or acids or bases or…anything?" He sounded shocked, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Arthur's face reddened. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about! Is chemistry some form of magic you practice in America or something?"
Alfred looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Dude, I can't believe you've never learned any chemistry…" he said while shaking his head slowly. "It's like…how do I explain it? I guess chemistry is…how we can explain the world around us at a microscopic level. We're all made of tiny particles called atoms, and chemistry helps to explain atomic behavior. Um, get it?"
The information flew right over Arthur's head.
Apparently Alfred noticed that Arthur didn't understand, so he just laughed and said he'd talk about it another time. How was it that this boy was an absolute dolt when it came to knowing academic and social rules, but he knew about foreign magical subjects? Chemistry didn't even sound magical…it sounded like something a Muggle would learn.
"Just how old are you, Jones?" Arthur asked, feeling stupid in comparison to this boy who appeared to excel in subjects that were beyond Arthur's own comprehension.
"I'm 15. Why?"
"Oh," Arthur said, surprised. He could have sworn Alfred was younger than him. "I'm 15 as well… I assumed that since you were a fourth-year, you'd be younger."
"Nope!" Alfred said with a smile. "I guess my grades only qualified me to be a fourth-year, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose…" Arthur said quietly. Curiosity was gnawing in his mind, prompting him to ask, "How…did you manage to transfer to Hogwarts?"
Alfred looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Uh, I'll tell you another time, dude. Right now, let's work on some stirring techniques," he said quickly, looking down into a potions book.
This American boy was turning into more of a mystery every day. It wasn't just his culture anymore, but his person. Arthur supposed he'd be spending quality time with Alfred now that the American was his official "tutor". Arthur hoped he taught as well as he performed in class.
With a determined attitude, Arthur listened to Alfred's advice and spent the evening brewing potions as best he could.
A/N: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! Critiques are loved :)
Also, here's a disclaimer which I forgot to put at the beginning of this fic: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own Harry Potter. But a girl can dream :)
