Chapter 3: Lessons

In the moments following my sorting, I was a bundle of nerves.

I took the hat off my head and walked down to the Slytherin table to some subdued applause. I eyed the crowd of students still waiting to be sorted, seeing that Ron was shooting me an angry look, and Harry a curious one. The rest of the sorting proceeded almost as expected save for when the hat touched Harry's head, where there was not much of a pause in which Harry might have argued with the Hat.

A few moments after the brim touched his head, the hat bellowed, "Gryffindor!" as though it were a matter of course. In spite of Harry's Slytherin leanings, I realised that the hat had seen the future through me, which explained the rather quick sorting. To it, a Gryffindor Harry likely seemed to be the best possible scenario, the one that maximised the number of good endings and minimised the number of bad ones.

With the revelation that the hat was now actively meddling in the future out of the way, I sat through the rest of the sorting, and through the school song and Dumbledore's speech, till eventually the grub revealed itself. Though I had eaten on the train, I still strayed to eat whatever dish seemed the oddest or most exciting. Potatoes were all well and good, but having spent an entire lifetime gorging on the delicious balls of starch, I found myself hankering for something new.

And so, it was with a mouthful of squid that I made my introductions. I didn't even know where the squid came from. I just asked if there was anything strange to eat, and lo and behold, I'm eating squid!

Naturally, with a mouthful of squid, all introductions were stilted, to say the least of it. I suspected I was soon to become the Luna Lovegood of Slytherin.

That was fine with me, to be honest. These people are all a tad more boring than they seem to realise. Alas, such is the fate of the humble NPC.

Once the feasting was all concluded, the prefects led us down to our dorms in the dungeons, with the spooky mood lighting and the snake-themed furnishings. It was all appropriately intimidating for such young, impressionable minds, with the ominous swirling effect caused by the water of the lake above creating an aura of mystery and imposing sense of darkness. We were told of the basics, as well as the obligatory lessons about our house and the importance of sticking together. I'd tell you about it, but I'm afraid I'd pass out from boredom before I could finish.

Mercifully, we were swiftly shown to our dorms, whereupon I noted that I was bunking with Malfoy and his goons, and I went to the bed that had been assigned to me. After a fitful night where I managed to sleep through nausea induced by the mixture of cheese, squid and chocolate I had eaten the other day, I emerged bleary eyed into the common room, and made my way to the Great Hall for some breakfast.

Throughout this entire process, it was important to note that Malfoy, the self-important braggart, was noticeably avoiding me in spite of having slept no more than ten feet away. He greeted me with stony silence, no doubt remembering my threat to make sure his father heard of his misbehaviour, and I was only too happy to reciprocate. It was much the same with many of my other Slytherin colleagues, and I imagined that things were about to become a tad lonely.

Sighting Ron on the other side of the Great Hall, I made my way over to the Gryffindor table, only to find him eyeing me suspiciously, "So, you're a snake, huh?"

I quirked an eyebrow, meeting his snark with snark of my own, "So, you're a lion, huh?"

"Family tradition," Ron managed to say through some treacle tart. "What about you?"

"Wish I could say the same." I addressed him and Harry at the same time, many of the older students sat nearby listening in, "Look, from what I hear, the house rivalry can get pretty intense around here. I know I'm a snake, but if it's alright with you lot, I'd like to stay... friends?" I rubbed my chin, "Actually, are we friends? I mean, we spoke on the train, but does that make us friends? Or..."

I trailed off, and Harry nodded with a smile on his face, "We're friends." He turned to look at Ron, "Ron?"

Ron finished quaffing the last of his tart, looked at Harry, at the angry eyes of the rest of the table, especially the curious looks coming from certain red-heads, and then back at me. He nodded rather reluctantly, "Sure. No worries, mate."

With that sorted, both Gryffindors and Slytherins shooting me some rather angry looks at my trip to what had been presumed to be no-man's-land, as well as some strange ones I seemed to be getting from the teachers, the lessons began. I was excited to begin casting, only to learn that most of those subjects began with a rather extensive run of theory. First, surprisingly enough, came an introduction to History of Magic, Binns boring the pants off everyone but me and Hermione.

Once again, I remind you, I sat through three years of university lectures, some on history. No matter how boring the lecturer, I was still learning about magical battles, political developments, and revolutions. This was going to be a cakewalk.

Next came an introduction to Herbology, which began with a short and appropriately cheery introduction by Professor Sprout followed by module on appropriate soil preparation, of all things. It was a solid foundation to build on, to be sure, but I wondered how many budding Herbologists had been left behind due to the abysmally boring introduction that such an otherwise interesting subject received.

Thankfully, McGonogall seemed to understand this, opening her lesson rather dramatically with a flourish of her wand, turning her desk from a pig and back, and a rather stern warning. The graveness of this warning was somewhat undercut by the fact that I had spent quite a bit of time, given my early arrival to the lesson, petting the cat on her desk, if only to see how she would react when she turned back into a human.

Nonetheless, the dramatism in her presentation motivated the students to plough through the necessary theory.

All around, heads were down, silence was had, and learning was done.

And finally, just when I thought I was going to go mad with boredom, the chance came to do some actual magic. McGonogall came around with matches, placing one on each desk, and instructed us to attempt to convert them to silver needles. All around me, the clattering of wands and clumsily uttered spells could be heard. After a moment of deliberation, I picked up my wand, engaging in a heated staring match with my match.

Pun not intended.

After a moment where I tried to figure exactly what the hell intent was supposed to mean, I put the match back down. Intent... maybe a strong desire to covert the match would do the trick? Maybe visualisation was the key instead? The textbook mentioned all these words, but was frustratingly vague with their usage. In the end, I supposed that was downside with learning magic this way. Intent would mean different things to different people, and everyone would use it slightly differently. It was all too subjective to be made objective.

Eventually, I just stopped agonising over the details, and got ready to cast. The people around me were all already a couple of tries in, and I was just about to begin my first. I waved my wand, uttered the incantation in accordance with the pronunciation guide, and tried to manifest my intent, visualising a needle in the match's place. After a moment, the wood began to change to become what I had visualised. And lo and behold, a silver needle!

Wait, what?

All around me, people were struggling to so much as change the colour of their matches, and I had already done it? I lifted my 'needle' up, only to find that it was cold like steel, and felt exactly like a conventional sewing needle. Maybe my adult mind made the whole intent thing easier? It was impossible to tell.

Evidently, McGonogall spotted the steel glinting in the light as I pondered what this meant, and she zoomed over to check my work. She scrutinised my needle, shot me a suspicious look, and then went and fetched another match. Placing it on the table, she issued her commands, "Change this into a needle, if you will please, Mr Crawley."

I nodded, aware that the attention of the class was now on me, and repeated the process. Lo and behold, another needle!

She similarly scrutinised this needle, and then me, before offering me an approving nod, "Very well done, Mr Crawley. Ten points to Slytherin." She brought the needle to the front of the class, showing it to everyone else, and then addressed me, "Mr Crawley, you can help your fellow students with the incantation."

All around, a sea of childish eyes turned in my direction, each eager to ask for help.

As Ron would say, bugger.

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