Chapter 8 is up! This one was shorter than I'm used to. Thank God, I need a break. Watch as Harold faces the challenges of getting to class on time, dealing with different teachers' personalities, and people pointing and whispering at him. Disclaimers: I do not own the "sing the lyrics" doors, the Pigzits teachers or classes, Professor Quiddle's garlic stash, Nelson's exploded cauldron, Hagger's hard cookies, or Hagger's My Little Pony quilt (surprised?). Haha. READ NOW!

Chapter 8: Professor Snake

"Look over there!"

"Where?"

"Next to that kid with the red hair!"

"With the glasses?"

"Did you see the scar?"

"Yeah!"

Harold was surrounded by whispers and stares the second he left his dormitory the next day. People would scrutinize him as they were lined up by the doors to their classes, or double back in the hallways so they could have an excuse to pass him again. Harold wished they would stop, because he was under enough stress trying to get to all of his classes.

There were a hundred and fifty-one staircases in Pigzits; wide marble ones, narrow wooden ones, ones that led somewhere else on a Sunday, and ones that had a quicksand step that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that only opened if you said please, or if you solved a corny riddle, or if it asked you to sing the lyrics to a certain song. Harold had failed trying to sing "Tik Tok", "Whadaya Want From Me", and "My First Kiss". He suspected that it was either the same door he kept running into, and that it was having a lot of fun watching him try remember the lyrics, or the first door that had failed him had friends all over the castle. It was hard to remember where everything was, because the people in the pictures kept going to visit each other, and Harold guessed that the suits of armor walked around regularly.

The ghosts were no help either. Harold had almost suffered a heart attack every time one of them suddenly popped out of the wall in front of him. Almost Noseless Rick was happy to help anyone find the right classroom, but Sneeze was worth two "sing the lyrics" doors and an entire quicksand staircase if you bumped into him while you were late for class. He would pelt you with more mysterious light bulbs, squirt ketchup in your face with the ketchup bottle from last night's dinner, jump out of a suit of armor in front of you, leave marbles on the floor so you would trip, or sneak up behind you, invisible, jump on your head, and scream, "GOT YOUR SKULL!"

Even worse than Sneeze, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Arthur Filth. Harold and Don managed to get on his bad side the very first morning. He caught them trying to open the door to what happened to be the forbidden third floor hallway. He didn't believe them when they said that they were lost, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when Professor Quiddle, who was passing by, rescued them.

Filth also owned a cat called Mrs. Morris, a skinny brown tabby with huge, lamp-like eyes just like her master. She patrolled the hallways alone, looking for suspicious students. Do anything even remotely wrong, and she'd race away, returning with Filth minutes later. Every student's dearest wish was to grab Mrs. Morris's tail and yank hard.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. Harold quickly realized that magic wasn't just waving your wand and saying a few strange words.

They studied the night sky through telescopes every Wednesday at midnight, learning the names of different stars and constellations, and memorize the movements of the planets. They went out to the greenhouses on the grounds to study Herbology three times every week. Professor Spout, a plump witch who was always covered in dirt, leaves, and moss, taught them the names of different magical plants and how to take care of them.

The most boring class that everyone had to take was History of Magic, taught by a ghost named Professor Bings. He had died in his sleep in front of the fire in the staffroom, but still came back to teach. He was famous for his never-ending lectures, where students tried to take notes without falling into a coma.

Professor Fitflick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little man who had to stand on a stack of books to be able to see over his desk. He started the class by taking the roll call, and when he called Harold's name, he screamed like a girl meeting Justin Beiber and fainted off of his stack of books.

When Harold had guessed that Professor McGummable didn't have a sense of humor, he was right. The moment everyone entered the classroom she gave them all a talking-to.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complicated, dangerous, and stressful magic you will learn here at Pigzits," she said. "If any of you decided to goof off in my class, I will personally kick your butt out the door."

And she changed her desk into a cow and back again. Despite the threat, they were all very excited and couldn't wait to begin, but they soon realized that they wouldn't be changing furniture into animals for a long time. After listening to a lecture and taking many confusing notes, they were set to the task of changing a match into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Heidi Grace had been able to do it. She positively glowed with pride as Professor McGummable showed the class how her match had turned silver and pointy, giving her a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quiddle's lessons were a joke. The whole room was filled with the smell of garlic, which everyone said was to ward of a vampire he had met somewhere in Washington state. Quiddle told the class that his turban had been given to him by the President of the United States as a thank-you for saving his life from a zombie, but Harold wasn't sure he believed this story. Sean had asked Quiddle eagerly how he had defeated the zombie, but Quiddle had gone red and started talking about the water cycle. Harold realized that Quiddle's turban smelled weird, too, and the Weezy twins insisted it was because Quiddle had stuffed garlic in it so he would be protected wherever he went.

Harold was awfully relieved when he realized that he wasn't behind everyone else. Many kids had come from Shmuggle families and hadn't had any idea that they were witches or wizards, like him. There was so much to learn that even people like Don didn't have a head start on everybody else. So Harold and Don considered Friday to be a very important day, as they had made their way down to the Great Dining Room without getting lost once.

"What classes today?" Harold asked Don while pouring syrup onto his waffles.

"Double Potions with the Hisserins," said Don gloomily. "Snake is Head of Hisserin House. All the Hisserins say he gives them special treatment."

"No fair!" Harold complained. "Why doesn't McGummable do that to us?" Professor McGummable was Head of Diffindor House, but that didn't stop her from giving the first years an enormous pile of homework to do almost every night.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harold was used to it now, but on his first morning, he was pretty shocked when over a hundred owls came flying into the Great Dining Room, swooping low over the tables and giving their letters to the correct person. Helga hadn't brought Harold a letter yet, but she would occasionally come to see him and take a drink of his orange juice before going for a nap in the Owlery. But today, Harold saw her swooping towards him with a letter clasped in her claws. She landed on the butter dish and held out her leg so Harold could untie the letter. Once it was free, he ripped open the envelope and opened the letter. A very untidy scrawl read:

Dear Harold,

I know that you get Friday afternoons off, so why don't you come down to my hut and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week at Pigzits! Send me an answer back with Helga.

Hagger

Don gave Harold a quill, and he quickly scribbled, I'll be there, thanks, see you later onto the back of the letter and tied it back to Helga's leg. She hooted and was off.

It was lucky that Harold had tea with Hagger to look forward to, because the Potions lesson ended up being the worst thing that happened to him so far. At the start-of-the-marking-period feast, Harold had guessed that Professor Snake didn't like him. But by the end of his first potions lesson, a new theory had entered his mind: Snake didn't just not like Harold, he hated him.

The classroom was located in one of the dungeons. It was cold and creepy enough without all the pickled animals floating in glass jars that Snake had decorated the room with. He started the class with the roll call, like Fitflick, and reacted to Harold's name, like Fitflick.

"Ah. Harold Plodder," he sneered. "It seems we have a celebrity in our class this year."

Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle snorted behind their hands. Snake finished the roll call and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagger's, but were cold and evil-looking instead of warm and twinkling.

"Now, does anyone know why we are here?" he whispered. He scanned the room, glaring at everyone. "Plodder!" he snapped suddenly. "Why are we here?"

"So we can learn how to make potions?" guessed Harold.

"Wrong," Snake snarled. "You are here to learn the exact art and subtle science of potion making."

"That's the same thing!" Harold protested.

"No it's not!" said Snake. "There is no thoughtless wand-waving here! Not many of you will be able to appreciate the beauty of the softly-simmering caldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids seeping through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death -" he stopped suddenly, his face full of fury. Half the class had fallen asleep. Heidi Grace was not among them, but was shooting glares at the remaining students who's eyes were closing.

"WAKE UP!" roared Snake. The students who were sleeping jerked awake. Snake glared around the room again, his chest heaving. "Now that you are all paying attention, we can play Let's See Who Didn't Bother to Open Their Books This Summer. Plodder!" he barked again, glaring at Harold. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? thought Harold. "I don't know," he said out loud. He glanced at Don, who looked as stumped as he was, and then at Heidi, whose hand had shot in the air. Snake ignored her and continued to stare at Harold.

"Try again. Where would you look if I told you to get me a bezoar?" he snapped.

Heidi's hand stretched higher. Harold was still coming up with nothing. "I don't know," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snalfoy, Krabby, and Boyle laughing silently. His temper rose.

"How about this," said Snake, still ignoring Heidi. "What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harold's anger peaked. "No idea," he said loudly. "Why don't you ask Heidi? After all, she's had her hand raised for almost five minutes."

The Diffindors laughed. Sean winked at Harold. Snake, however, was not happy.

"Sit down!" he hissed at Heidi. He turned to Harold. "For your information, Plodder, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is called the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, and also goes by the name of aconite." He glared at the class, and after a few moments, whispered, "Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?"

Everyone quickly took out their quills and parchment, except for Heidi, who was already scribbling furiously. Snake looked at Harold again. "And five points will be taken from Diffindor for your lack of knowledge, Plodder."

The lesson continued. Snake put them into pairs and instructed them to make an easy potion to cure boils. He stalked around the room criticizing everyone except Snalfoy, who he seemed to like. Suddenly a giant green cloud filled the room, along with the sounds of hissing. Nelson had melted his cauldron. The whole class was standing on their chairs in seconds as the exposed potion seeped across the floor. Nelson cried out in pain as giant red boils sprouted on his face, since he had been splashed with the potion when the cauldron had melted.

"You moron!" snarled Snake, clearing away the potion with a lazy wave of his wand. "Did you add the porcupine quills before taking your cauldron off of the fire?"

Nelson whimpered as boils started sprouting on his nose.

"Go to the hospital wing," said Snake. "Shimmigan, escort him." Then he rounded on Harold.

"Plodder!" he spat. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought it would make you look better if he messed up worse than you? That's another five points you've lost for Diffindor."

This was so unfair that Harold opened his mouth to argue, but Don kicked him in the shin. "Shut it," he whispered. "Snake can turn nasty."

When Harold climbed the steps out of the dungeons an hour later, his mind was racing. He had already lost ten points for Diffindor for no reason at all. Why did Snake hate him so much?

"Calm down, Snake's always taking points off of Ed and Gordy," said Don. "Can I come with you to Hagger's?"

"Sure," said Harold. They left the castle at five of three and made their way down to a small wooden hut at the edge of the forest. As they got closer, they saw a crossbow and a pair of boots at the front door.

When Harold knocked he heard frantic scratching from inside and booming barks. Then Hagger's voice roared, "Move, Tooth,get outta the way!"

Hagger's face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning around. "Tooth, move! NOW!" He opened the door wider and motioned with one hand for Harold and Don to come in, while he struggled to hold onto a giant white and brown bulldog with the other. It was almost as large as a rottweiler.

There was only one room inside. A copper kettle was sitting over the fireplace. Several chickens and hams were hanging from the ceiling. A My Little Pony quilt was draped over an enormous bed in the corner.

"Make yerselves at home," he grunted, letting go of Tooth, who raced over to Don and started licking his face.

"This is Don," said Harold, petting Tooth's head. Tooth closed his eyes lazily.

"Yer another Weezy kid, aren't yeh?" growled Hagger. "I wasted half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." He put a pile of cookies onto a plate and put it on the table in front of Harold and Don. "Now tell me about yer first week."

The cookies were filled with chocolate chips that almost broke their teeth when they bit into them, but Harold and Don pretended to be enjoying them while they told Hagger all about their classes. Tooth rested his head on Harold's knees and drooled all over his pants. When the talk turned to Filth, they were delighted when Hagger called him "that moron".

"And someday I'm gonna introduce Tooth to Mrs. Morris," he growled. "She follows me everywhere every time I go up ter the castle. It annoys the hell outta me."

When Harold complained to Hagger about how much Snake abused him during potions class, Hagger told him not to worry about it, that Snake abused every student.

"But he really seemed to hate my guts!" cried Harold.

"That's ridiculous!" said Hagger. "Why should he?" But he didn't meet Harold eyes when he said it. "How's yer brother Charles?" he asked Don. "Always liked him - was great with magical creatures, that one."

While Don told Hagger what Charles was doing lately, Harold picked up a newspaper that was laying on the table. He brushed the cookie crumbs off of it and read:

The Latest on Stringotts' Break-In

Investigations are still being conducted on the break-in at Stringotts on July 31. Many believe that it was the work of a Dark witch or wizard. The Stringotts goblins insisted that nothing was taken, and that the vault in question had been emptied earlier that day.

"But don't bother asking what was in there, 'cause we're not telling you!" snapped a Stringotts spokesgoblin afternoon.

Harold suddenly had a flashback of Don telling him that someone had broken into Stringotts on the Pigzits Express.

"Hagger!" Harold yelled so suddenly that Hagger jumped a foot in the air, grunting loudly. "That break-in happened on my birthday! It might of happened while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagger definitely didn't meet Harold's eyes this time. Instead, he looked away and offered him another hard cookie. Harold read the article again. The vault in question had been emptied earlier that day. Hagger had removed the grubby package from vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four. Had that been the thieves' target?

As Harold and Don walked back to the castle for dinner, questions were zooming around Harold's head like a swarm of bees. Had Hagger taken the package just in time? Where was it now? And what did he know about Snake that he didn't want to tell Harold?

Haha! Um...so that's it. Pretty short, huh? I'm happy, because as I said, I NEED A BREAK! I HAVE A LIFE! Keep watching for chapter 9! But be patient please! And review, or I'll send Snake to take points from you for no reason. ;)