The second half of this chapter is entirely new material. I don't believe that I have written Prof. Sprout correctly so I may return to change her dialogue, I may not. I realize that Madam Hooch could very well have been teaching at Hogwarts this far back but I still wanted to introduce a new teacher. My high school had only a handful of the same teachers that my father had when I attended it, even though we both went to the same one.
I do not own Harry Potter or profit in any way from writing this. Origional characters are mine, directly from my own head matter! How they got in there nobody knows.
The next morning began with the awful dinging of Troy's alarm clock. He had been the only boy to set one the night before, and would be the only one to do so for the entire year. It was loud enough to wake up the second years down the hall.
"UP! Wake UP! Brush those TEETH! You'd better get a hurry on it or you'll miss breakfast!" the alarm clock hollered at Troy, who seemed to be an expert at ignoring the shrill voice.
"Merlin, shut that thing UP!" demanded Regulus. Logan finally walked over and threw the clock at Troy's head.
"Hey, it's not supposed to do that for five minutes yet!" cried Troy.
Already out of bed, Logan decided to get dressed. He put on a brand new set of black school robes, sure to use his silver cloak clasp in the shape of a snake. It had been a good omen to buy that unassuming fastener, like a good luck charm. Logan was very glad his uncle had gotten it for him.
Regulus and Logan started up to the Great Hall without the other two. Troy was still lazing in his bed and Raneg had just begun removing his curtains and was using them to ward off a corner of the room. The three Slytherins let him, knowing full well that they didn't want to go into the corner of the room which would become a makeshift terrarium for the many amphibians that Raneg had snuck in his baggage. Logan was not at all certain what exactly Raneg kept in that corner, except that it made very strange sounds in the night.
The boys tailed a group of older Slytherins heading up out of the dungeons and found that it was easier to find the Great Hall than previously imagined. The prefect last night had really taken them for a spin.
Regulus and Logan sat down amongst their fellow Slytherins and grabbed a bite of toast and jam. Logan looked over at the Ravenclaw table to see if Bertram was awake yet. The larger boy gave him a quick wave which Logan returned.
"Looks like Herbology will be our first class, how boring," said Regulus. Each boy had found a parchment bearing their week's schedule pined to their schoolbooks that morning. Logan wondered if someone had crept in their room at night to put them there or if they just appeared by magic.
"At least we'll get to use our wands in Charms today," replied Logan. He'd said this to cheer Regulus up as he himself was truly terrified at using his wand. Logan didn't want to find out that he was the worst at magic on the very first class of the very first day.
Herbology took place out in a greenhouse behind the castle. The boys woke up quickly in the morning air which still savored the very end of summer on its breath. A mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor students formed around several small buildings which were filled to the brim with greenery. Pomona Sprout, their teacher, was waiting for her new students outside greenhouse one.
"Everybody here? Everybody awake? Wonderful, let's step inside class," she said cheerily.
The students followed Professor Sprout into the greenhouse. It smelled earthy and alive, and was filled from top to bottom with a large assortment of growing things. A bag of Mandrake's Choice sat opened near the doorway to Logan's chagrin.
Professor Sprout called for the noise to desist and began her start of the term speech, "We won't always be in the greenhouses but I always feel it is important to start classes off with a feel for what Herbology is. Now I know many of you don't think this is an important class," at this Logan elbowed Troy in the ribs, "but Herbology is essential for any witch or wizard. Especially for those of you who plan to go into potions making in the future.
"Now, it is also important to know which plants could kill you just by walking by or eating them. This guy behind me," Professor Sprout motioned to the large plant next to her, it looked like a large Venus Flytrap and it was eyeing the Professor hungrily, "He is what we call a Venemous Tentacula. We don't often keep him greenhouse one but I wanted you all to get an idea of why Herbology is just as deadly a class as all the others."
At this Professor Sprout opened one of the chests near the wall and pulled out an entire side of ribs fresh off some sort of pack animal. The Venemous Tentacula ate them in one bite, almost taking Professor Sprout's hands with them.
"Mooncalf, and rather expensive," she said. "It is fortunate that Venemous Tentaculi don't need to eat very often.
"If everybody would join me in gloving up we'll get a bit dirty today. Don't be afraid of the dung, a little dung never hurt anybody," said Professor Sprout. One of the Gryffindor girls seemed to be disagreeing with this statement.
"Today we'll be plucking leaping toadstools and putting them in these buckets," said the Professor, holding up some large white containers. "They're a tad tricky, and just as their name states they will jump up as soon as they are separated from the colony. Fungi are interconnected through their roots."
Logan pulled his gloves on and reached to grab a handful of the fungus. As soon as he pulled them from the dirt they took off in seven different directions leaving him and Troy to run after them.
"No more than one at a time! At least not until you get better at it. Stevens, stay away from that Tentacula! Now don't be afraid to get acquainted with the equipment, only the Tentacula bites," shouted Professor Sprout to the class.
By the end of the period Logan had only gotten four of his toadstools into the bucket and would never find out where the other three had run off to. Troy, despite using his dragon hide gloves, learned that he was allergic to the toadstools after he began sporting a purplish rash along his arms. Professor Sprout sent him off to the infirmary declaring that she hadn't seen anyone get a rash from Leaping Toadstools since she was in school.
Charms was less eventful than Herbology class that day. After being seated a sprightly Professor Flitwick had given his own lecture as to how Charms was just as important as any other class. It seemed to be a thing that all teachers did.
"I want you all to start out with a simple incantation," said Professor Flitwick. "It is one of the most useful spells you can learn and even full-grown wizards may use it daily. The simplest lighting charm, lumos, may be the most practical way to make a light.
"I want you all to pay attention and watch me before trying it yourselves. Ahem, lumos," he said. The wand, held perfectly still, lit like the end of a match producing unwavering light.
"All right then, everyone give it a try."
All around the room shouts of lumos went out.
"Quit shaking your wand, you're gonna hit me," said Logan to Regulus, who was now showering him with flying sparks.
"Lhumos, lhuuumos," said Raneg. His accent was not aiding him in any way with his spell.
Logan took a deep breath and held his wand still. I can do this, he thought.
"Lumos. Lumos. Lumos," said Logan. On the third incantation his wand gave off a steady glow of light.
"Excellent work, ten points for Slytherin," said Professor Flitwick as he passed by. The light from his wand continued to stay strong.
It was then that Logan felt like he was where he belonged. He could do magic just as well as any of them could. He was not an imposter.
Logan would have considered his first day of classes a strong contender for the best day of his life had it not been for Peeves.
After picking up Troy from the hospital wing and taking turns being grossed out by the rash still remaining on his arm (it was now growing little toadstools which Madam Pomfrey assured would fall off overnight), the boys took to the Quidditch field in hopes of getting a bit of practice in before nightfall. On their way there Logan had finally admitted his embarrassing secret, that he had never even touched a broomstick let alone flown one, to his new friends.
"I can't believe you've never played Quidditch before," said Troy shaking his head sadly. "That's downright blasphemy."
"My mother wasn't a fan of contact sports, or any sports for that matter," said Logan sheepishly.
"Man, and I thought my mum was bad," said Regulus.
"No need to worry though, mate, we'll get you up and flying before the week's over," said Troy eagerly.
"In my country we do not fly broomsticks, we fly on enchanted carpets. They are much more comfortable in my opinion," said Raneg, gaining a glare from Troy.
"But you can still fly, right?" he demanded.
"Yes, of course, but trust me on this. The carpet is much preferable than the broomstick," said Raneg causing Logan to wonder, not for the first time, what country Raneg had come from.
"Oh yeah, I'd pay to see you score a goal on one of those rugs, and I bet you I'd get to keep my money," said Troy.
"You may be a big-shot when it comes to your own games but we'll just see who wins in a game of carpet race," Raneg retorted.
"Sounds lame, mate, very lame," said Troy.
"Is not lame," muttered Raneg who chose to pout alone rather than continue the conversation with Troy.
Upon arrival on the field the boys saw a handful of Gryffindor students already using the pitch, easily recognized by their vibrant red robes. Troy scuffed the ground in vexation, as he'd been looking forward to flying and not sharing the pitch. Although there were not enough people in the air for a proper practice the sidelines were filled with a number of girls Logan had seen that morning in Herbology. They were ogling the eye-candy zooming across the field. There was one particularly tall Gryffindor that had caught his attention from the first time Logan had seen her at the feast. She had long, softly-curling brown hair and a wide smile. She was smiling now, watching intently as the Quaffle made it through one of the goals.
"'Oy! Off the field now, you lot! No first years allowed on the pitch," cried a stocky block of a man as he came up from the other side of the field. The Gryffindor captain was doing his best to keep up with the squat man, despite his longer legs.
"Great, Whizbanger's here," said someone.
"We were just watching," said the girl Logan had been gazing at. Like every Gryffindor she was standing her ground.
"Which you can do in the stands, young lady," said Colonel Whizbanger. He had a mess of disheveled hair surrounding his head with a bald patch in the middle that shone as if the man had intentionally polished it up. He also had a grey mustache which matched his grey beard, both long and bushy, and stubby fingers which were pointing to the bleachers for the first years. The broom that the colonel held in his hand was twice his height. Logan believed he was more fit to do cannonballs than fly through the air on a broom.
"I'm getting to the bottom of this," said Troy taking off towards Colonel Whizbanger. None of the Slytherin boys joined him, as the Colonel was already shouting at Troy for stepping on the Quidditch pitch.
"First years off the field!" yelled Whizbanger. He waved his hands in exasperation as Troy ignored him and strode up with a lazy swagger.
"Good afternoon Mr. Whizbanger. If may introduce myself, I am Ebony Troy. I merely had a question for you, if you wouldn't mind enlightening me," bled Troy with extra sugar in his voice.
"It's Colonel Whizbanger," said the perturbed looking coach.
"Forgive me, Colonel, but I was wondering why, exactly, the first years cannot be on the field. How are we supposed to practice if we cannot even touch the Quidditch field?"
The Colonel did not look pleased. "You'll start flying lessons in a week or two," he said, turning to the Gryffindor captain. "Now get in the stands or get off the pitch."
But Troy wouldn't budge. "Now just a moment, sir, my parents had me on a broom before I could walk. I've been playing junior games for years now, and been to every Quidditch camp around every summer. I can play better than any man on your team, I swear it," said Troy emphatically.
Colonel Whizbanger was turning red and shaking a little. Logan gulped and felt Raneg slide lower into his seat on the bleachers. The Gryffindors, meanwhile, were pushing their way further towards the two and many were backing up Troy.
"I've been riding since I was six," provided one of the boys.
"Yeah, I could fly in my sleep, I don't need lessons," said another.
"This is not up for discussion!" shouted the Colonel. "It's too dangerous and most eleven year olds don't know how to fly, despite your prodigious upbringing Mr. Troy."
"But sir, if I could just demonstrate that I know what I'm doing-"
"It wouldn't matter because first years aren't allowed on the pitch!" said Colonel Whizbanger, who was now red enough to rival a tomato.
"Sir, please, if I could just show you my skills I know that you would agree that I can out-fly any man on this field," said Troy to the disgruntled looks of the Quidditch team who had formed around their coach.
Colonel Whizbanger looked from Troy to the eager Gryffindors before grabbing a broom from one of his boys and holding it out to Troy.
"Alright Mr. Troy, let's see what you can do," he said. Troy gave him a big smile full of perfect white teeth and kicked off without a word of thanks. Logan saw the brown haired girl gasp and clutch her friend's arm as Troy turned in midair and dove around one of the hoops, far too fast for Colonel Whizbanger's comfort, who was looking concerned but admittedly impressed at the display. For the first time that evening Logan wished he could fly like everyone else.
A smattering of Gryffindors had been given brooms and flew up to join Troy. The look of admiration dropped from the coach's face and he blew the whistle hanging around his neck violently.
"Congratulations Mr. Troy, you weren't exaggerating," said the Colonel to Troy who was puffing for air. "However, you can't be on the team until you reach your second year, rules are rules. Now all first years, get off of my field," he ended.
Troy didn't even hand the broom back to it's owner but threw it down like a little child who wouldn't be granted an ice cream. He stormed off the field leaving his friends to catch up with him.
"Troy, that was fantastic!" cheered Regulus, who was the only of the three that knew just how well their friend had flown.
"Doesn't matter, the Colonel won't let me fly," whined Troy.
"He was impressed at your flying, mate, if it weren't for those stupid rules-"
"If it weren't for those stupid Gryffindors ruining my spotlight that coach would have thrown the rulebook straight out the window," said Troy.
"Yeah, well, at least you showed him up, with him doubting you and all," said Regulus.
"I never exaggerate," said Troy, causing Regulus and Logan to exchange looks.
The four of them plodded through the Great Hall leaving a trail of mud from the door to the staircase where Peeves was swinging on a chandelier, causing crystals to fall on the heads of students walking by. One landed on Logan's forehead, leaving a dent. He chased the poltergeist in circles, dirty footprints following him.
"Oooh, ickle firsties tromping mud all over Filch's clean floor! I wonder how he'd feel about that? Let's go and ask him shall we?" said the poltergeist zooming around the hall.
"Shove it, you bleater," said Troy. He chucked one of his muddy boots at Peeves which, rather than contacting with the ghost, flew straight at the wall and left a muddy print six feet up.
"Run!" yelled Regulus as Peeves sped away cackling and calling for the caretaker.
"Don't run downstairs, run upstairs," said Logan as an idea formed in his head. "We can trail around and take the maze back to the common room."
"Right, brilliant," said Regulus swerving to follow Logan. The boys could hear Filch's outrage at the state of the Great Hall.
"No, no, no, go left," hissed Logan, trying to keep quiet.
All four boys crammed into a closet filled with only cobwebs and old bedpans. It was a tight squeeze with the tall Ebony and Regulus, both of whom stooped into uncomfortable pretzels while Logan and Raneg sat on the chamber pots. Logan was glad to note they were clean aside from a thin layer of dust.
Through the door they watched as Filch's shadow ran past their hiding spot followed by the smaller shadow of his cat, Mrs. Norris. They waited a few moments before Troy called out, "I think it's clear."
The majority of mud had been transferred from their boots to the floors, so as the boys jogged back to the dungeons they felt free and clear from Filch's punishment. As they passed the Great Hall once more Logan caught the eye of the Gryffindor students returning from the Quidditch field. They were looking around at the muddy room with amusement, especially the footprint on the wall.
"Didn't get enough flying in, 'eh Troy?" said one of the boys smugly.
Troy clenched his fists but ignored the boy, walking straight back to the dungeons. Regulus and Raneg had already headed down and into the labyrinth but Logan hesitated. The Gryffindors were trailing just as much mud as Logan and his friends had been, and Filch was waiting in the direction of their quarters. If he were to warn the brown haired girl maybe she would consider hanging out with him. Instead of following Troy to the dungeons Logan turned on his heel and went back up the staircase.
Just go and get her name. That's easy right? Just ask her what her name is, Logan thought to himself, and tell her to watch out for Filch.
But they reached Gryffindor's corridor before Logan had the chance to warn the girl about Filch's rampage. He must have been searching in another part of the castle. Every student but her had passed behind life-sized portrait of a fat lady in a pink gown.
"Wait!" he called. She turned around but Logan had a sudden loss of words.
"What's your, I mean, I'm, ah, my name's-" and before he could get his question out a fuming Filch ran up, pointing at her muddy shoes.
"Ha, I've got you now!" said Filch grabbing the Gryffindor girl's arm. "Running around the castle, trailing mud everywhere. Thought you'd get away with it, didn't you!"
"I didn't get mud everywhere," she said indignantly. She pointed to Logan. "He and his Slytherin buddies did."
Filch looked at Logan's now dirt free boots before calling her on her 'bluff'.
"You can't fool me, missy. You and your friends are getting detention for this mess! You'll be scrubbing bathrooms for an entire Saturday," he said, stomping off to arrange the detention with Gryffindor's head of house.
The girl was now starring at Logan with a look of absolute reprehension. It was not the look Logan had wanted to see on her face.
"You, you prick! You will never forget the name Acacia Stevens!" she cried out before slamming the portrait of the fat lady in his face. Logan stood in front of the portrait, stunned, while the fat lady fixed her hair, complaining of ungrateful first years.
"At least I got her name," muttered Logan before descending towards the Slytherin dungeons.
Later, slumped in a velvet armchair in the Slytherin common room, Logan replayed the event to his friends. He left out the main motivation for the trip, instead claiming he only wanted to warn the Gryffindors.
"Ha, ha! That was brilliant mate," said Regulus, slapping Logan's shoulder. "I only wish it was my brother that Filch caught."
Raneg was laughing into his book although Troy only looked worried.
"Are any of you a size nine and a half?" he asked. Logan couldn't help but smile as Troy limped back to the boy's dormitories, an inch taller on his left foot than his right.
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