Another new chapter, Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. Valfreya
Chapter twelve.
The next morning Molly was in the kitchen, making a very large breakfast for the inhabitant of the cottage. Molly had agreed to let the children sleep late. While she was humming to herself Arthur watched from the door way. She loved his wife dearly. He though about what Lilly and James had asked her to do. Of course she gave it no thought what so ever. She had offered to care for the boy. This was one of the many reason he loved her. It was her caring heart.
"Morning dear" he called he walked over to the large table and sat down. Normally he would be reading the prophet with his coffee. But since he doubted it would get delivered he settled for watching his wife in the kitchen. She gave him a loving smile as she set down a cup in front of him.
"breakfast will be ready soon, I will go and wake the children" she said, leaving the kitchen
she went first to the boys room, knowing how difficult it was to get them up at the best of times.
"C'mon boys get up" she called Neville and Draco were the first to acknowledge her.
"Morning Mrs Weasley" Draco called. Neville moaned a greeting as well.
Harry was next to stir, along with her grandchildren. Soon all the boys apart from Sirius and Ron. The rest were getting dressed.
Next Molly moved to the girls room
"Morning Girls, time for breakfast" she said opening the door to a humming of conversations. All the girls were in various states of readiness. The girls all acknowledged Molly.
She made her way back to the kitchen to finish breakfast, when she got there she found Dumbledore sitting there.
"So what, is the plan? How will resolve this situation?" she asked a little too harshly.
Dumbledore, looked thoughtfully at the table. While Molly placed breakfast in front of him.
He knew the dangers of time travel and changing the past. He knew all to well that there was some things that couldn't be changed no matter how much they tried. These 'fixed points' were fates way of ensuring the delicate balance that holds everything together.
" Well Molly, that is difficult to answer, this is a reason why wizard's are forbidden to meddle with time. Its not just in case of the grandfather paradox. It is because of something called 'fixed points' have you heard of them" he asked of the group at large
Remus who had just joined the group and was taking a cup of coffee from Molly said " I know a little" Dumbledore indicated that he should continue.
"Well a fixed point, is an event, that has to occur, it cannot be changed or stopped. If averted it will simply happen another way. Are you saying that there are some things in these book that cannot be changed? Remus looked at Dumbledore who nodded glumly. It too a minute but finally the gathered people understood Lilly and James Potter had to die.. it was a fixed point.
Suddenly, there was a hurricane of sound, coming from the bedrooms. Everyone fixed the faces into welcoming smiles.
Soon the cottage was filled with the smell of a lovely breakfast and excited chatter.
Al spoke up, " you know these books cover all of dad's 7 years at school. Maybe we should try and pick up the pace." nods of agreement followed this suggestion.
Soon everyone was once again gathered round the living room and Amelia picked up the book.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE POTIONS MASTER
There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next
day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look
at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.
Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on
finding his way to classes.
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide,
sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different
on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to
remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you
asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors
that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It
was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed
to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit
each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.
The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of
them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly
Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right
direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a
trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would
drop waste paper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet,
pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab
your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus
Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their
very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a
door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds
corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was
sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening
to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor
Quirrell, who was passing.
Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature
with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the
corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of
line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds
later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than
anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly
as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest
ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes
themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out,
than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every
Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the
movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the
greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little
witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of
all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.
Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only
one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old
indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got
up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on
and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the
Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had
to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their
first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he
gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.
Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to
think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a
talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you
will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class
will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very
impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they
weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.
After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match
and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson,
only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor
McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and
gave Hermione a rare smile.
"See Hermione, you have nothing to worry about, it's not often Minerva is impressed with a student" said Lilly.
Hermione beamed
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense
Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of
a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said
was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be
coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had
been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of
a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.
For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell
had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about
the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung
around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed
full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone
else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't
had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to
learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.
Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone
else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't
had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to
learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.
Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to
find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost
once.
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his
porridge.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of
Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see
if it's true."
"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head
of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge
pile of homework the day before.
" I do not favour any student Mr Potter, how ever I am fair. If you do something worthy of credit, I will recognise it, how ever if you misbehave, as you father and his friends did, you will be punished" Minerva informed her future student. Prongs and said friends, snickered while Harry paled slightly.
Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but
it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a
hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters
and packages onto their laps.
Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to
nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the
owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered
down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto
Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy
scrawl:
Dear Harry,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have
a cup of tea with me around three?
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with
Hedwig.
Hagrid
Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the
back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.
It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because
the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to
him so far.
At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor
Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd
been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder
here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough
without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and
like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands.
Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His
eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth.
They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of
potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but
they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught
every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a
class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving
here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you
will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with
its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through
human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach
you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't
as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks
with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and
looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered
root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
There were a few hisses around the room.
"Snape, that isn't fair, you know that isn't a first year question, stop singling out Harry just because of his parent Lilly scolded.
Snape lowered his eyes from hers. She only ever called him Snape when she was pissed at him and he knew it. Prongs, Padfoot and Mooney agreed with her, by glaring at him.
Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who
looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," said Harry.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."
He ignored Hermione's hand.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me
a bezoar?"
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without
her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a
bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were
shaking with laughter.
Draco lowered his head, ashamed of his behaviour. He had a feeling it was going to get worse before it got better. If he had just ignored his fathers teachings, and decided for himself he would have, made friends with Harry.
Narcissa looked at her son, she had always wanted Draco to grow up, to make his own choices, and not follow in his fathers foot steps, she knew the name Malfoy was inspired fear in many wizards, she didn't want that. She had always thought that when she married Lucius she could have changed his ways but she didn't have any luck, Lucius had broken her will. She vowed now that Draco would never be broken. He would stand up to his father. And become his own man.
"I don't know, sir."
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?
Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon
ceiling.
"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why
don't you try her?"
Severus sighed he wasn't going to like that.
"Harry, that was not the best thing to say, I believe I will not respond well to that, although you are quiet right, I should have asked Hermione, I have no doubt she would have given the right answer" Snape said, giving the pair a brief smile. Something that felt odd on his face.
A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked.
Snape, however, was not pleased.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter,
asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as
the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach
of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and
wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of
aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise,
Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your
cheek, Potter."
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson
continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a
simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak,
watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing
almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just
telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned
slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the
dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a
twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor,
burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was
standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the
potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils
sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Ah, Mr Longbottom, potions doesn't appear to be your strong point, if you wish I will give you extra lessons" Snape offered hoping, the boy would accept.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one
wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before
taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he
rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought
he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another
point you've lost for Gryffindor."
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked
him behind their cauldron.
"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind
was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor
in his very first week - why did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up,"
said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come
and meet Hagrid with you?"
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the
grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the
forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the
front door.
When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and
several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang
- back."
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door
open.
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous
black boarhound.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the
ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded
straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was
clearly not as fierce as he looked.
"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a
large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent
half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their
teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told
Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's
knee and drooled all over his robes.
Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not
to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
"But he seemed to really hate me."
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"
Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes
when he said that.
"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot -
great with animals."
Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron
told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a
piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a
cutting from the Daily Prophet:
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 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.
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if
you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this
afternoon.
Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to
rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.
"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday!
It might've been happening while we were there!"
There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes
this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the
story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied
earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and
thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little
package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?
As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets
weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry
thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much
to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package
just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about
Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?
"End of chapter" Amelia said.
Every one looked at Snape and then Dumbledore. Some of the faster working brains had put together what was going on.
"Why would you have the stone at the castle Albus?" Minerva accused.
Dumbledore simply looked at her. She gave him a stern look waiting for an answer.
"I do not know Minerva, this is the future. I cannot explain something that hasn't happened yet" He said logically.
All the children shifted slightly, each of them sliding away from Severus by a few inches. They were liking the sound of him.