A/N: Sorry 'bout the wait. Was on vacation ya know! So withoot furthur adooo!
Harry poured through his essay during breakfast titled, One Thousand and One Reasons Why I Am Taking Potions Class. Harry felt really good about himself after he had finished it. Ron asked for help, but once he saw that the first reason was that Harry loved Professor Severus Snape, he decided to try to do it himself. He was ninety feet short at breakfast. "How does that old bat expect us to complete one hundred feet of parchment? All of these teachers are mental, every last one of them." Harry and Ron started to take some bacon as Hagrid snuck up behind them.
"How's yur furst day at Hogwarts been Harry?"
"Great…eh anyway this is Ron."
Ron waved as he chewed his bacon.
"What! You're eatin' bacon! I c'n't berlieve this!" shrieked Hagrid.
"Hagrid," Harry pleaded, "it's not what you think it is."
"Oh it shuur is. I seen it with me own two eyes." He gestured toward his eyes. "I can't berlieve this, yer little , sniff blasph'm'rs." Hagrid walked away and started to cry; the Great Hall started to flood.
"STOP CRYING HAGRID!" yelled Dumbledore. Hagrid flipped one more tear, and the Slytherin table split in half. Poopicus flew through the air screaming, breaking through a stain glass window of Salazar Slytherin. Everyone in the Hall laughed, but it came out as a gurgle, since they were underwater. Twenty suction charms later, the Hall was back to normal, and the students were left to eat their soggy bacon. Hermione pulled out her tear drenched schedule, and said that they had Charms with Ravenclaw this morning.
"Great," said Ron, "we get to learn how to clean our house today."
Professor Flitwick was a short little man, with balding silver hair. He stood on top of pile of books behind his desk and started to teach them a charm to freeze water.
"I can't wait to make some ice cubes when I get home," whispered Ron to Seamus.
Harry ended up being paired with Dean. Ron was telling jokes during their practice time, while Hermione was turning the water into ice and then back again, by tapping her wand, while reading, Namoron Naboron (An Autobiography). Harry was giving it his best shot, and was able to turn parts of it into shavings of ice.
After ten minutes and thirty jokes from Ron later, Professor Flitwick decided to give them a quiz on the spell saying, 'this was so simple it wasn't even in The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1).'
"Yeah what's it in, grade five?" Ron joked. Almost every Ravenclaw got an 'Excellent', and only one failed with a poor. Neville got an 'Average', when his was solid completely, but only a few degrees colder. Hermione's froze perfectly and was at zero degrees Kelvin.
"Outstanding, Mrs. Granger!" squeaked Flitwick. Hermione flipped to the last page of Namoron Naboron (An Autobiography). Harry put all he could muster into this spell. His eyes lit with hope as it froze.
It was almost frozen…kind of like jello. "Well it's cold. Average." Harry had passed! Seamus' exploded, and he was given a troll, "You're not supposed to heat it up," said Flitwick bitterly.
He went to get a drink of water right as Ron fired his spell. Sadly for Ron, (and Flitwick) he missed and it hit Flitwick's cup, freezing it to his tongue that pulled him face forward into his desk. "Puor," said Flitwick trying to get his tongue off the ice. Ron was so excited at the change of fortune that had smiled upon him.
"Did ya hear that!" yelled Ron, "I GOT A POOR!"
The Ravenclaws looked at him strangely.
After they had finished Charms they left for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"We have it with Slytherin again! Did ya hear that; how many classes do we have with them?" Ron asked.
They all pondered that, as they stepped into the classroom, greeted by the strong smell of garlic. All were excited about what Professor Quirrell would teach them since it seemed the most exciting class. The professor stepped up to the front of the class, and stood there for a second, as if stuttering in his mind.
"I…I am P-p-prof-fes-s-s-ss-or Quir-Quirrell. I will b-be t-tea-teaching you D-D-D-De-Defense Against-st the…uuh…D-D-Dark-k-k Arts." He looked like he was about to say something, before stepping over to look at the roll sheet again. He went down the roll sheet. "L-Lavender, Brown…"
"Here!"
Quirrell looked back down at the roll sheet, and started to stutter, "P-P-Poo-P-P-Poopuh-P-P-poop-p-poop-p-poop-puh-cus…Brownwipe." He smiled; a roar of laughter engulfed the classroom.
Poopicus raised his shy hand in embarrassment.
"Q-Quiet down-n-n ch-ch-ildren!" struggled Quirrell. Silence ensued, with a few stray giggles.
"Charming n-n-name. heh heh,…ehheh!", Quirrell tried to lighten the mood, but to no effect.
"S-so!" He tried to look tough. "You are all-l-l-l-l w-wanting-ing t-t-t-to see the fright-t-t-ening side of m-m-magic?"
Everyone shook their head in excitement.
"Goood-d-d-d-d!" He replied, sending a spit shower into Neville's face. He ignored it and went on. "It-t-t is my d-d-duty, to train you in the d-d-efense against p-p-powerful f-forces t-that would try to… H-H-H-ARM YOU!" He lunged at Harry, his purple robe swooping down dramatically.
Harry just sat there, Quirrell looking foolish as he tried to let loose a hideous expression.
"V-v-very good P-p-potter! You s-s-see cl-cl-cl-asssss-ho!" The class again roared with laughter. Quirrell seemed on the verge to un-wrap like a turban until there was just a pile of cloth on the floor. Harry actually thought he could see a tear streak across his face. Hopefully, Quirrell could get himself back together to save what an awful start he made.
Professor Quirrell's class was a joke. For the first half, he had students talk about their summer. "M-m-m-m-alfoy! You're up!" politely requested Quirrell.
Malfoy stood proudly and beamed at the class. "Last summer my father and I killed mudbloods. It was fun."
Quirrell seemed to skip a heart beat, as the rest of the class gasped.
Heaving like a girl just fainted, Quirrell squeaked "Sit down Draco."
Ron whispered, "I wonder if his dad's a death eater?"
"Hermione, i-i-if you p-p-please."
Hermione sat straight and spoke with an esoteric note. "I spent my summer reading all 100 volumes of The Modern Day Wizard and The Copious Cauldron. I also won first place in Magic Girl of the Year, Hogwart's Promising Pupils, and…spent the rest of the break knitting phat hats."
Quirrell seemed to be oblivious to all of the prodigy stuff, but exclaimed. "E-x-x-x-xcellent! It's goo-oo-oo-d to see a child hav-h-hav-ing a t-t-talent for kn-kn-knitting that they l-l-l-ove! Heh-eh!"
Next was Neville, apparently spending his summer caring for toads, Quirrell was fascinated and spluttered toad-jargon with Neville for 15 minutes of the class, not noticing everyone else fast asleep. Lavender Brown talked seeing The Cauldron Sisters on tour, and Poopicus with troubling bowel movements. Harry in the meantime was finishing his essay on Potions, making sure everything was right and proper.
"H-h-h-h-arry P-p-otter! If you will s-share with the cl-class your b-break… eh." Everyone became tense and stared at Harry.
Harry lazily looked at Quirrell.
"I did nothing."
Quirrel's expectant gaze shattered. "C-come dear boy, y-y-you had to have d-done… s-s-s-omething?"
"I told a snake to bite my cousin!" Harry smiled. Everyone laughed. Quirrell eyed him strangely.
After that boring affair, Quirrell finally seemed to be getting somewhere. "Now, since th-th-this is our f-first day together, I-I-I shall recall m-m-y s-s-ummer." Everybody moaned with disappointment. "Ahem… I am qu-qu-qu-ite fond of hiking. Beh-beh-b-b-being one with nature is thrilling!" His eyes grew watery.
"I b-b-believe it was several-luh-luh months ago that I be-be-be-began my trip admiring the jungles of Alga-alga-alga-algeria." He seemed to get in a funky rap with that last word.
"I happenstance came across a sp-sp-sp-specimen of caldi-flower. V-very extraordinary, I even took my p-p-painting easel along to capture its gr-gr-gr-graceful, curved petals th-that resembled rays from the s-s-sun. And the most peculiar gazelle I came upon s-s-seemed to have a troubling time excreting-ing-ing-ing. He-he… I th-th-think P-p-poopa-poo-"
"ALLL RIGHT! I HAVE HAD IT!" screamed Poopicus Brownwipe, his small body erect on the desk, heaving and puffing away at the wimpy Professor Quirrell, who had just tripped and was panting on the floor, like a scared little dog. "I am fed up with all this 'oooh! Poopicus Brownwipe! That's such a funny name, strange it reminds me of feces. Oh! Let's poke fun at him and see if he has an accident!'"
Quirrell whimpered like a baby.
"Sheesh. Quirrell was a load a' dung! He smelled like it too! Did you smell what's under his turban? At least his class is the easiest. He gave us all outstandings on our summer summaries. Can't complain about that." sputtered Ron as they marched to lunch.
"That was Garlic Ron. Perhaps you need to sample what you smell. It could be your upper lip." cackled Hermione.
"Oi! At least I don't skin books with those buckteeth of yours!"
"Waaaa! I need my alone-time!"
Harry once again knew this was going to be a long year.
Lunch was fun; Ron had a whole kidney pie as Hermione read The Wonders of Warlocks.
Harry almost choked as Hagrid patted him on the back. "So Harry! Classes fun I s'pose?"
"Yep. Sure are Hagrid." Harry lied.
Hagrid soon bent down so no one could hear what he was just about to say.
"I h'erd yer head'n off ta H'rbuh-lu-gy."
"Herbology?"
"Ye'h. List'n Harry, Pr'fess'r Sprut is a sprout of a woman."
"You mean 'Sprout'?"
"She ain't a good p'rson. She's as barb'ric as they come."
"What?"
"Don't loaf with her, she ets an'mals. Luvs her darling plants but ets AN'MALS!"
The whole hall stared at Harry and Hagrid. Hagrid soon resumed.
"We've been sworn en'mies since befer ya were bern. I eat plants, n' she hates that. She eats meat, n' I hates that."
"Sounds like a nasty 'I hate-you hate' inferiority-complex." Hagrid couldn't compute the psychologist stuff, but could filter out 'sounds' 'nasty'."
"Don't berfriend her."
The HRH Gang soon headed out to Herbology, the grounds were stunningly green and beautiful. Ron got a dive bombing-bird dropper hex( a db-bd for short) from a third year Slytherin along the way as Hermione finished Knights of the Napkin Charm. Harry sorta did nothing the whole way.
The greenhouse was a jungle of a classroom, and Professor Sprout was the lion who ruled it. Bulgy eyes and eyeliner, with spidery gray matted hair, and a stout body shaped like a tomato, she wasn't very imposing. Harry could only imagine having Slytherin with them; what mayhem Sprout would give to Poopicus, 'You'd make good fertilizer! HAHA!'
Professor Sprout did the roll call as usual, then blabbered about the wonders of flora and its many uses and how it's connected to Potions for its uses in alchemy. All they did was skin potatoes for Snape's 5th year potions class. The reason was something to do with potatoes can act like a powerhouse or battery when inserted with a wire conducting current in a jar of water. Of course, that's all muggle superstition.
Potions was simple, unknowingly the only time that it would be. Snape strode in with a displeased look on his face.
"Your essays are due."
With a flick of his wand, Snape summoned the entanglement of parchment from the students. It grew to a massive yarn-ball, unfortunately rolling over Neville. Snape didn't seem to notice, until the muffled screams of Longbottom echoed hauntingly through the dark dungeon. Snape shouted "Perficus ordericus!" The coagulation of parchment poofed into a filing cabinet, worthy to make any accountant envious.
Neville was still ventilating as Snape glided to the lectern. For 30 seconds he said nothing. Everyone blinked, and a stray cough echoed. Neville cautiously looked at the tall black figure. "Sir… sir! Yoohooo. Pro-"
"Today you shall engage in the primitive sport of flying brooms with Madame Hooche.
The bar of expectations I see is lowered one miserable notch after another." He glared at Hermione. "Yet… some of you…" Snape glanced at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle who were shaking a jar of Snape's that had a shrunken head bobbling in it. They quickly put it back.
"…care only for the stimulation of the mind that this potions class offers." They smiled innocently. Snape reared his head back to the center of the class. "Your essays shall be graded and handed back to you tomorrow. Off you go."
Everybody took off in joy. For once the dungeon seemed to illuminate with effervescent wonder. Little did Snape know, as he motioned over to a locked desk, that Harry was right behind him.
"Profes-"
"Ahhh!" Snape shrieked, fearing he was finally caught red-handed. He soon realized it was the tiny Potter boy tilting his neck with his dorky glasses at him. He loomed over Harry like a giant curtain.
"What I wanted to tell you was…uh… I worked very hard on this essay… and I think you will enjoy it." Snape just stood there, as Harry pranced down the dungeon, as he whistled. "The Merry Marigolds", echoing through the dark pillars.
"Potter!" Harry stopped, in mid-whistle.
"I have your essay graded." Snape muttered with a curl in his lips. Harry marched up the steps, grabbing the parchment from the potions master; his cold hands letting go. Harry looked at the essay with a grin.
It soon fell like a freshly snapped fingernail to the bowels of the dungeon. Clearly, Snape only glanced at the first line, before he made up his mind. Harry's face filled with tears as a vandalistic 'T' smeared in red at the left corner of his parchment insulted his 8 hours of devoted endeavor to impress Snape. Harry slowly tilted his head back to Snape's. What was written on it was a hateful, disdainful, virulent, disparaging, monstrous, contorted, angular, abominable, horrific, demonic...(inhale)…terrifying, grossly expression that even gave Snape goosebumps. Harry quietly whispered. "This means war!"
Snape merely smiled. Harry trudged down the dungeon through the double-doors constantly repeating in his head. "I hate Snape, I hate Snape, I hate Snape…"
Harry quickly ran to the courtyard and saw a whole bunch of kids lined up with brooms and the spiky-haired Madame Hooche ushering them. He quickly filled a vacant spot and heard something like 'Broom', 'Up' 'on three', and 'One…Two…Three…"
Harry felt a surge in his hand. The broom magically entered his grip. "Cool!" he muttered, apparently not having any idea what he just did. All the other students were having trouble, saying "Up!" as if regulating air traffic. Harry just laughed. Draco was the next to get his up. He sneered at Harry.
"You're holding your broom backwards!" shouted Hooche. Malfoy quickly fixed his error, later not wanting to see Harry's smirk.
Hermione for once wasn't the first, not even the twenty third to get her broom. Ron was having better luck with it whacking him in the face repeatedly. Harry snickered insanely; he was better! But he still burned with rage at the potions master who had wronged him so. Someday, Harry thought, as Madam Hooche began to talk about how to get off the ground or something, but Harry wasn't really listening; he was staring at a shadowy figure, who was gazing out a third floor window.
MEANWHILE
Snape stared out at the flying lesson that was going on below and whipped out his wand. Time for some fun, he thought mischievously, smiling like a schoolboy. Snape spun his roulette of annoying first years. It went past Potter, Dang it, Red-Head, and Beaver-Girl, before landing on, Bottom-Boy.
"Very well," Snape chuckled furiously after making sure no one was around.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" He flicked his wand, and Neville floated into the air. Snape began to move him around this way and that, crashing him into all different parts of the castle. Unfortunately for Neville he crashed directly into a statue of, 'Edric Egelebald, Famous alumni of Hogwarts' during his flight, causing him to fall down, and apparently be severely injured.
"Pity," Snape sneered. Hooche yelled something about none of them being allowed to fly on their broomsticks. Snape was about to leave when he noticed, that Lucius' kid was talking to everyone about something. Then that good-for-nothing, Potter kid started to talk to him about something. Lucius' brat mounted, his broom, strangely backwards, and flew into the air.
Somehow, Snape was completely oblivious to this. Then the potter kid jumped onto his broom, and Snape jumped giddily, He's going to be expelled! Finally all the hard work has paid off! Snape ran off down the hall, skipping, and singing 'Rock Like a Goth', and occasionally pausing for an air guitar solo, all the way down the corridor.
MEANWHILE
Harry saw the Remembrall fall into his outstretched palm; it turned red as he grasped it, and Harry remembered that he had forgotten to put on his underwear this morning. Oh well.
He looked up to see that a window was coming toward him, and worse, McGonagall was looking at him from inside. Harry didn't have any time to change direction, and busted through the window, straight into McGonagall. She let out a yelp of displeasure as she was forced to the ground.
"Finally!" she yelled, her eyes burning with the fires of the place directly below Harry's feet. "Finally a chance! Finally!"
She must really like expelling people, thought Harry.
"Never in all of my years of teaching have I seen such…such…" she seemed to be at a loss for words, after Harry had committed such an atrocity. She knocked on the door of a room that Harry knew to be Professor Quirrell's room. A girly scream that shattered glass all around them came from the room, before Quirrell opened the door, a leech hanging on the end of his nose.
"Yes M-M-Minerva?" he asked.
"May I borrow Wood please?" she asked starring at the leach on Quirrell's nose.
"W-W-Wuh-Why of c-c-course." A tall dark haired kid jumped up from his desk and rushed out of the classroom. Quirrell shut the door and the shriek resumed. McGonagall led them into a secluded room that was safe from Quirrell's howl.
"Oliver," she smiled, "I've found you a seeker!" She looked ecstatic, and was jumping up and down merrily.
"Really?" Oliver half-asked half-exclaimed to the world.
"Yes and he is good! He flew better than old Charlie Weasely. We're finally going to win the Quidditch Cup this year, and then Snape will half to shave off the top of his head!"
Harry always wondered why McGonagall, had been wearing that old witches hat.
Harry started to break dance on the Gryffindor table during dinner, after he had told everyone how he had been selected to the House Team. The whole table started to dance, except for Hermione, who had her nose burrowed into, Break Dance Tips from Wandle Warlock. Draco walked up to the Gryffindor table and sneered triumphantly at Harry.
"Seems like you're celebrating your last day at Hogwarts, eh Potter?" Malfoy remained motionless as Crabbe and Goyle started to laugh like a bunch of idiots who had just realized that was supposed to be a joke.
"Actually," Harry started to disco, "I've been selected to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."
Draco turned red, and Harry swore he heard a sound like the ripping of underwear.
"Gryffindor must be lowering their standards then." Crabbe and Goyle started to eat some muffins, before Draco kicked both of them and they remembered they were supposed to laugh. "How about a Wizard's Duel, say tonight at midnight, in the trophy room."
Harry didn't know what a Wizarding Duel was, but it was in capital letters so it had to be important. "You're on!" He said triumphantly. Hermione gasped and slammed her book shut.
"You can't do this! You're going to make us lose the House Cup." Hermione stood up, and stared Harry in the eyes.
"See you tonight…" he paused, "Potter." He spit out, as if it hurt him to say it.
"This is going to be awesome!" yelled Ron.
"But I don't know any spells." Harry felt his stomach being sucked out.
"You should have thought of that before you accepted!" Hermione barged off, presumably to the library.
"Mental." Ron muttered, as he and Harry started to talk about their strategies for the duel. Once they had left the Great Hall, Harry and Ron went up to their dormitories. "So have you got any like jinks books or anything?" Ron asked, as he started to play Virtual Quidditch. Harry looked through his belongings and pulled out Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Lip-shutting, Inflation, Crack Removal, and much, much, more.) by Professor Iplaya Prankonue.
"This looks good," said Harry as he opened the book.
Ron ran over to look at the book and then asked, "Does it have the tickling charm in it?"
"I don't know…why?"
"Fred and George used to use that on me all the time…and I would love to see Malfoy squeal from it."
"You squealed?" asked Harry.
"Just look for it!" yelled Ron. Harry looked for it through the book, before finding a page that was labeled: THE TICKLING CHARM.
Ron and Harry must have practiced for hours, because, it was suddenly eleven thirty. Harry had said Rictusempra so much, that he would kill anyone whose name started with 'Ri'(luckily for Ron.).
"Well, we should be going now." Ron said, clearing out of the room.
When they got to the Common Room, they saw that Hermione had stayed up the whole night reading, Larry Stotter and the Horse's Bone. Once she saw them walk in she jumped up and yelled, "YOU AREN"T GOING OUT THERE TONIGHT!" Harry was sure that she had awoken the whole castle, but he made a run to get out of the room.
Harry dived through the exit, but it seemed that Ron was not as lucky, and had been on the wrong side of a Blubber Hex. He now filled up the entire gateway from the Fat Lady, and Harry had to pull him out with every ounce of energy in his body. Hermione pointed her wand out at Harry and said, "In! Or you and Ron will be so fat you won't fit into Saint Mungo's." Harry started to go back into the Common Room, but realized that the Fat Lady had left.
"Maybe she went to get something to eat? Has to maintain her figure." Harry suggested.
So Hermione decided to follow them, because she didn't have anything else to do, and because she wasn't allowed to use magic on Harry in the corridors. They rolled Ron's blubbery body down the stairs to the trophy room. Harry tried his hardest not to sneeze since the room was covered with mountains upon mountains of cobwebs and dust. Trophies sat rusting in old hutches, many having lost their glimmer since who knows when. They waited for five minutes in the dark room, before they heard something creep.
It had to be Malfoy.
"Get 'um Hurry!" Ron yelled, his blubber jiggling from his face.
"Rictusempra!" The charm zoomed toward the shadowed figure and hit him straight in the chest. Harry noticed that he was going to be in big trouble after this. Harry had accidentally jinxed Filch the Caretaker!
Harry and Hermione started to roll Ron away as Filch's laugh echoed throughout the room,
"Hehehawahaw…get them…heheeehawww…Mrs. Norris…hawhaw…eh-hem…NOW!" The cat started to chase them through the corridors of the school, before Harry turned around, and hexed the cat too.
It started rolling uncontrollably on the ground, and purring strangely. "purrmeowmeowpurrmeowmeow!" Mrs. Norris looked like she was having an epileptic seizure.
Harry and Hermione ran into a locked door, and Hermione cast some Hawaiian spell to open the door. Harry and Hermione rolled Ron in, only to see a damp room stinking of wet dog. They saw a huge lump breathing strangely in the center of the cramped room. Ron whimpered "Whas tha' nohizzz?" clearly having trouble speaking because of his blubbery face.
It rose and a trio of massive dog heads stared at the HRH gang. Their yellow beady eyes glowed in the dark, scaring the bejesus out of Ron. By the look of it, the three-headed dog that had just recently been shampooed. They screamed like girls (Hermione screaming like a man.) and rolled Ron out as fast as they could. The dogs meanwhile were delighting in Ron, mistaking him for a delicious pork rind.
They rolled him all the way to the Fat Lady, and Hermione remembered that she had forgotten the de-blubberization charm, and they all went back into the Common Room.
"Man! That was bloody scary." The HRH gang set down in the Common Room.
"You didn't seem to notice what was underneath it, did you?"
"I couldn't even see my feet Hermione!" Ron answered.
Harry was sitting in his chair and thinking of all the pies that started with a 'B'.
"But it still was protecting something," shouted Harry, distracted from his pondering of the universe. Maybe that thing Hagrid took from vault seven hundred and thirteen might be what the dog was guarding. Harry figured he should share this with Hermy and Ron, but concluded… Nah… it couldn't be… Hermione finally concluded like the genius she was that, "Whatever that thing was guarding, it must be important."
"Righto," affirmed Ron. Harry in the meantime was preoccupied with the Newton's Cradle on the sofa.