A/N: In trying to research what Harry's first year schedule actually was, I found four conflicting articles. Movie verse vs Books vs. other clues. Part of the problem is that Rowling often used the days and dates from different years than what she was writing about – she didn't research half as well as most serious fan-fic authors do. Conflicts exist in sooooo many things that I'm going to dodge the issue and make my own schedule which mirrors what I remember from the books and what I know of the actual 1991 year.

Which house is with which house for which class is so confusing as well as which days which classes took place that I refuse to alter my story based on a review which says "No – according to the book he had (class) with (house)."

Here's what I know: Gryffindor and Slytherin are together for Potions and Flying. Charms and Defense has Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Herbology is with Hufflepuff. I'm going to go out on a limb and say Astronomy is with the Puffs too. History will be with the Claws. Tranfiguration with the Puffs.

When trying to figure out a schedule for the different years for one subject, I figured out exactly how hard it was to make a schedule that was sensible. The whole system is screwed up. If I'm inconsistent at all: I apologize … getting it right is a female dog.

The door opened and revealed Professor McGonagall: Tall, black-haired and in emerald-green robes. She had a very stern look which Harry compared to what he had experienced in the Alley. Harry decided that there were times to be cheerful with her and this was not one of those times.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her look for anyone making a shoddy appearance caused Harry to check himself over nervously. He checked out the people he had shared a compartment with.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry whispered to Ron to brush off the crumbs from their snacks. He also reached out and, with a murmured comment, helped Neville by straightening his collar.

"Does anyone know exactly they sort us into houses?" he asked generally.

Ron said, "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but you know the twins; probably just giving me the mickey."

As Harry looked around, he saw the other students doing the same. He was just as nervous as any of them, but Hermione looked to be working herself into a tizzy and repeating things she had learned from the books. "Relax, Hermione. I'm sure it's not that kind of test."

Hermione stopped whispering things from her book and nodded, but she was still nervous.

Suddenly, several people behind Hermione screamed.

"What the …?" He turned and gasped at what was causing the ruckus. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance ..."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered, most still shocked.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Harry looked at the Great Hall as he entered. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." Harry gave her a nervous smile in acknowledgement. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

"Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it," Harry thought wildly, "that seemed the sort of thing ..." Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the Hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

(See the book for the Song … entirely too detailed here already.)

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I knew Fred was taking the Mickey."

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Harry watched as his fellow students were sorted. There seemed no rhyme or reason behind the choices and some people were sorted quickly while others took some time. Harry did notice that each table had similarities among their members: Hufflepuff looked cheerful, Slytherin looked like they were trying to remain proper (and looking miserably haughty because of it), Ravenclaws looked someone more studious, and Gryffindors looked like they were preparing for a party.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry started to pay notice as Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Harry looked over where Hermione sat and saw that Seamus had already gone to Gryffindor.

When Neville was called, the hat took a long time to decide. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter. Harry caught his eye and gave him a rueful smile and subtle thumbs up.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy looked pleased with himself.

"Pureblood Ponce," was Harry's only thought.

Finally, "Potter, Harry!" As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent and ambition, oh my goodness, yes. Loyalty and the willingness to work hard. Now that's interesting – so, where shall I put you?"

Shocked for a moment Harry thought back, "If it's all the same, I'd prefer Gryffindor." Harry gripped the edges of the stool.

"Gryffindor, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin could … no?"

"I'll be great from Gryffindor."

"Well, if you're sure ... better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked nervously toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to not be put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean." Harry joined enthusiastically with Hermione, Neville, and Seamus in cheering. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now.

Harry clapped loudly with the rest after the Hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron looked relieved as he made his way to the table and collapsed onto the bench next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley Pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The sandwiches and snacks seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. This was obviously a part of the lack of logic that he was warned about.

"Is he a bit mad?" he asked Percy.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. The only thing that had compared was Mrs. Weasley and even dinner at the Weasleys had emphasized quantity more than quality. This was both.

While Harry ate, he had a short conversation with the house ghost, Sir Nicholas, although it was a bit stilted at one point when Ron and Seamus had interjected their own comments and questions. Harry decided to say something to them later about that.

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk around him returned to families (Neville, Ron, Seamus, and Dean) and schoolwork (Hermione and Percy). Harry was satisfied just listening. He starting to feel warm and sleepy.

He looked around to wake himself up. When he looked at the High Table again, Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

The man's expression was not friendly at all. He assumed that this was Professor Snape. He moved his eyes back to looking at the room before looking back again. By that time, Snape was looking elsewhere which relieved him a bit.

At last, the desserts disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem ... just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George Weasley.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

He paused for a moment when Professor McGonagall murmured something to him. He nodded.

"I have been asked to remind all students that every student will have their wand checked for compatibility and repair. Should any wand need repair or replacement, this will be accomplished – this one time only – at no charge to you. The notice sent a week ago should explain this.

"Mr. Ollivander shall be visiting between noon and 8 PM every Sunday until all have been inspected, starting with the youngest.

"Should any of-age student wish to, they may visit Mr. Ollivander between now and Saturday as long as they inform their Head-of-House ahead of such a visit. Any underage student may travel to Diagon Alley on Saturday next, provided a parent or a guardian takes them.

"For those underage students who can get written permission but for whom a parent or guardian cannot travel on this schedule, we shall provide one staff member after lunch on Saturday to take up to twenty. We also wish up to four volunteers from our prefects or of-age students who can help with this. Please contact Professor McGonagall if you are interested in volunteering.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere ... the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

The song amused Harry, but he was convinced as ever that wizards and witches had no common sense.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Harry tried to memorize the route Percy and his female counterpart led them on, but he knew it would take days to learn it. Percy stopped the group when they ran across a bunch of walking sticks floating in the air.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves ... show yourself!"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks above the students. Neville barely managed to dodge. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squishy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase ... they were obviously in one of the towers ... they found their beds at last: Five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings.

Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Harry had a disquieting dream with Professor Snape standing over him with true menace holding the sorting hat which told him he shouldn't have been a Gryffindor. It was disturbing enough that it woke him up. He did the exercises his dimensional counterpart had described until he was calm and then rolled over and fell asleep again. When he woke next day, he didn't think about the dream again.

Early the next morning, Harry woke up to the sound of loud snoring coming from Ron's bed and some lesser amounts coming from the other beds. He wiped his eyes tiredly and put on his glasses. He took his wand and used a spell he had read about in his books. The practice at home had served him well – it worked the first time. "Tempus." It was still very early.

He thought about it and realized that getting his watch out would have been faster. Did he really have to use magic for everything?

He shook the thoughts out of his head and made his way to the loo. Once he had showered and dressed, he looked at his watch and realized that the rest of the dorm should be getting ready too. He didn't want anyone to get in trouble the first day, so he moved to wake everyone up. Ron finally woke up when Harry said loudly, "It's breakfast time!"

After Ron had opened his eyes suddenly and looked around Harry said to him, "Get dressed. I'm going to the common room. If you're not out in 15 minutes, I'm going to breakfast without you." He grinned at how easily Ron was motivated by food.

Harry made his way down. He found Hermione sitting in a chair reading a textbook. "Hey, Hermione."

Hermione looked up with a small smile. "Hello, Harry. It's our first day. Isn't it exciting? I wonder what our fist class will be. I hope it's transfiguration. It's so interesting. Of course …."

Harry laughed as he motioned Hermione into quiet. "I know you're excited, but let's take it one day at a time. Take a deep breath." He demonstrated it and then waited expectantly. Hermione, exasperated, followed suite. "Much better. Now, how are you this morning?"

Hermione blushed a bit at that. "I'm well. I just can't wait. Er. How are you?"

Harry grinned and said, "I'm good too. I know it's exciting, but thinking about it won't make it come faster – just make you more nervous." He looked around. "Are your dorm mates already down?"

She shook her head quizzically. "No. They're still getting ready. Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, we're all new. I got everyone else up. I figured we could all go together, maybe snagging an older student to show us the path again this morning – I kind of missed it last night because I was tired. They'll be down in about 15 minutes."

Hermione nodded her head at that and then stood up. "I'll go and find out if they want to come."

Harry nodded at watched as she rushed up the stairs, returning in a couple of minutes. "They're coming too."

The two chatted while waiting for everyone else. The boys starting arriving only a few minutes after that. When most of them were down, Harry grabbed an older student. "We have a couple more coming in a minute. When they come, can you show us how to get to the Great Hall?"

The boy nodded. "You're Harry, right?" Harry nodded. "I'm Oliver Wood. I'm the Quiddich Captain."

Ron (who was arriving just then with last two girls) said, "Quiddich Captain? Wow! What are our chances this year?"

Harry indicated everyone was there. Oliver, who seemed an even bigger quiddich nut than Ron, happily discussed the finer points of different formations with Ron and the other first years that followed quiddich.

Harry and Hermione both shrugged at each other. Hermione looked confused. Harry looked resigned – and amused. He liked quiddich – but he didn't think he would ever get that obsessed.

Although it was early, the group entering the Great Hall seemed to cause a momentary hush. Harry saw Tonks sitting at the Hufflepuff table and moved to sit near to where she was at the Gryffindor table.

"Good morning, Tonks." The other first years also said hello.

"Wotcher Harry, Neville, other firsties. You're all here a bit early, aren'cha?" she asked with a grin.

Harry smiled back. "Hermione and I got them down and got Oliver to help us find the place – we're still new here."

The meal was every bit as filling as the feast the night before, even if it was less lavish. The Hufflepuff first years sat down near to Tonks to listen to what the group was talking about.

Suddenly, a host of owls made their way into the hall. Some carried letters, others packages. A number of students, mostly older, also received the Daily Prophet.

A hush rippled out from those that read the paper and showed other students. Many started whispering and looking at Harry. He was both nervous and exasperated: He didn't know whether to keep his eyes down or roll them.

Professor McGonagall came by and handed out the schedules to each student. They were told they had the first morning to familiarize themselves with the castle and to find their classrooms. Tonks, who had a free period, offered to show them around.

Ron had to be pulled away from breakfast. "We don't have class this morning! I have time!"

Harry wondered where Ron put it all. He shook his head and said, "Yeah, but you won't after today; might as well get used to it now."

The first years spent the morning moving around the castle and learning, generally, where all of the classes were - as well as where the library was. It would take weeks to get used to it, Harry thought.

After a couple of days, the whispers had quieted down a bit.

At Hermione's insistence, everyone was making their way to classes up to 10 minutes early. Harry made a few jokes about that. At first Hermione was annoyed, but finally she loosened up and made her own joke back. She was surprised when Harry laughed and smiled at her.

That was unusual. In her experience, her attempts at deflecting comments with comments of her own when she was younger usually caused other children to dislike her even more. It was obvious that Harry wasn't being malicious about his comments, only trying to get her to relax.

The other first years also had a few laughs at that as well. Many had been surprised when Harry had only laughed at Hermione's comment. They had assumed that Harry was taking the role of the "popular kid" who could get away with making jokes but who would take offense if anyone did it back. Instead, they found that Harry was unusually normal in that he would take it just as well as he gave it out.

The classes and the staff were a mixed bag.

Professor Flitwick was a jovial teacher who tried to make his subject fun. Binns was boring enough that most had fallen asleep. Quirrell was oddly intense about his subject, but that impressed most of the first years. Madam Sprout had an earthy quality and a calm competence.

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.

The four had, once again at Hermione's suggestion, arrived 10 minutes early. After sitting down, Harry looked around the room. He noticed the cat sitting on the desk. When he commented on it to Ron (who he was sitting next to for this class), Ron looked and then shrugged. He complained a bit about being bored as well.

Harry just shook his head and pulled out some parchment to take notes and the book for the class. Hermione and Neville were already doing so as well. Ron took notice and started doing the same, grumbling a bit as he did so. Other students noticed as well and did the same.

As the rest of the Puffs came in, they followed the example already set and before the bell for the class, every student had quills, parchment, their wand, and the textbook for the class in front of them.

As the bell rang, the cat on the desk jumped up – and morphed into Professor McGonagall. After a moment of shock, the students all clapped. The Professor had a small, brief smile (easily missed if one wasn't looking).

"Welcome to Transfiguration."

"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 a few had made any differences to their matchsticks. Professor McGonagall seemed oddly happy with that.

Harry had to put his foot down a couple of times with Ron. Ron wanted to slack off and encouraged those around him to do the same. Harry wanted to do well. Neville, although not as timid as when Harry first met him, was still a bit nervous and it wasn't hard to convince him to do homework. Hermione needed no convincing.

Ron finally bowed to peer pressure. Harry thought that he seemed less irritated and actually satisfied once they had finished, but Ron refused to admit that it was better to do it sooner rather than later.

Harry had written letters to Sirius and Remus telling them that he had gotten into Gryffindor. He had also written a letter to Ginny. He had sent that letter with Ron's. He was still debating with himself about the other girl he was told about. He thought he would write to her after he had settled in a bit.

He and Hermione had gotten into one row. After their first transfiguration class, the three boys had followed her to the library to finish their homework as it wasn't too far out of the way. As the group worked, Harry noticed Hermione had written three parchments for her essay.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him.

"Er. Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, shocked a little bit as she had been engrossed in the assignment. "Yes?"

"Wasn't the assignment twelve inches?"

Hermione nodded with a bit of a confused look. "Yes. Twelve inches on matchsticks to needles."

Harry pointed to her stack. "Isn't that more than twelve inches?"

Hermione looked over at the parchments and said, "Well, yes. I found so much that was relevant that it's a bit longer. But I'm certain that it's fine. Teachers like details."

Harry said, "I don't know. If I was expecting 12 inches and got 36, it might annoy me because it would take too long to review."

In her most bossy voice Hermione replied, "The essay is supposed to demonstrate our understanding of the material. I'm certain that the Professors take into account that some will be more involved. Doing it this way demonstrates that I have taken the time to do that extra bit which shows that their teaching is appreciated."

Harry looked dubious. "I think it shows that you're trying too hard."

This went back and forth, trying to stay quiet lest they get booted from the library. Ron and Neville had stopped working on their own assignments and just watched the two.

Finally, Harry threw his hands up. "I give up. We need to go and ask each one, because I think 36 inches for a 12 inch assignment is crazy talk." He stood up and began piling his parchments and books together.

Hermione huffed. She also started to pull all of her materials together. Ron and Neville decided to stay and finish. Neville just wanted to do well on the assignment. Ron thought voluntarily going and seeing a teacher when it wasn't required or if he didn't need the help was asking for trouble. Twelve inches was enough for him. He thought it was possible that the professors might give out more homework if bearded in their den about it.

Several professors were sitting in the staff lounge having tea and discussing this year's classes. Severus Snape sat in the corner, sneering as he listened to how well-behaved the first year Gryffindors were. He knew Gryffindors. Most were reckless, stupid, vicious attention-seeking dunderheads that needed to be controlled or put away from the rest of the population. The one's that weren't he often considered missorted.

He sat observing and listening to the other members of the staff, only occasionally providing a comment when asked.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Pamona went to the door and opened it. There was a murmuring and the Hufflepuff head turned and motioned Minerva. She moved to the door and after a brief moment she moved back as to allow someone inside.

Severus Snape only withheld his comments on the … persons … that came in because there were other professors present. It was a near thing.

The two first year Gryffindors finally stood just inside the door. The spawn opened up the dialogue.

"Professors? On the assignment today, we were told to do 12 inches on the matchsticks to needles transfiguration. Hermione and I had a disagreement. When you assign twelve inches, does that mean at leasttwelve inches, exactly twelve inches, or approximately twelve inches?"

Filius said, "Why do you ask?"

The spawn replied, "Hermione here, wanting to do well, filled in approximately 36 inches." Huh. A lost Ravenclaw. What a bunch of swots and know-it-alls. "When I saw this, I brought it up and I said that it should be twelve to demonstrate that we understood the spell or at least read the material. She thought showing that she researched it fully was a better way. Which is right?"

What followed was a discussion among the staff as to what the purposes of essays were and what they felt should be the focus in different circumstance. It was interesting to note (mildly interesting) … (interesting in a miniscule degree) … (almost completely un-noteworthy) that the spawn seemed just as interested in the discussion as the swot.

Minerva contended that the parameters of the assignment were paramount. Filius contended that more was better. Finally, the spawn volunteered a suggestion, arrogant dunderhead that he was. "Can you clarify when you assign it? 'Exactly 12.' 'Minimally 12.' 'At least 12 and no more than 24.' '11-13.' That way we can avoid annoying the Professors by making their work even harder and avoid annoying each other by making trouble when there isn't."

The spawn turned to the swot and apologized for unintentionally disparaging her drive. The spawn then turned and asked, "Another thing?" The others looked interested. He just wanted the two to leave so that he could go back to relaxing. "How much of our grade is answering questions? How much do tests count vs. class participation?"

Filius was curious. "Class participation?"

Harry nodded. "In Primary, part of each student's grade is how much they ask and answer questions and participate in the process." He turned for agreement from the swot and the swot nodded enthusiastically. "You might have noticed that Hermione always raises her hand. She is under the impression that you should always volunteer, even when not picked. I'm wondering if the Professors would prefer that or to try to get different students involved. It's obvious she's prepared. Does it help her grade if she always is demonstrating that? Or does that annoy you as Professors?" The spawn gave an apologetic look to the swot. "Sometimes, other students get annoyed when one person always raises their hand." He looked back at the staff. "Is it better for them academically to do so or what should they do?"

The swot looked surprised at this idea. Severus didn't know why. It was obvious to almost anyone with any sense that always showing up your peers was a certain way to become a pariah. Maybe there was some chemical or disease in a swot's brain which made them blind to that? Hmmm. Something to think about….

Another discussion between the staff occurred. It was decided that those that always raised their hands tended to take attention away from those that never did so. One should either only calmly raise their hand, not making any more effort to draw attention, or raise one's hand only occasionally or after others had had a chance to do so.

The idea was obviously a revelation to the swot. He wondered if Filius could indoctrinate all of the other swots in his house. If often took a month before his own influence would assert itself and then the swots often forgot themselves and had to be put in their place – repeatedly. It was very annoying.

Finally, the spawn and the swot thanked the staff and began to make their way out. The spawn stopped – and then completely destroyed his sense of calm. "Professor Snape? Our first Potions class is coming soon. Are there particular chapters we should review before arriving so as to make it easier for you to teach?"

To all the others in the room, Professor Snape calmly sat there considering the question and what his answer should be. Inside of his head was an entirely different train of thought.

Damn…. Damn Damn Damn Damn…. Damn! My entire plan to put him in his place will be destroyed! If I said 'The Entire Book' that would draw complaints from the others. My true opinion ('You are completely incapable of doing well and I will demonstrate that to everyone) might get me in trouble as well. … Damn.

This SPAWN has the audacity to interfere with my revenge! The swot standing with him and the other professors would bear witness! The SPAWN might be a missorted Slytherin!

Oh, wait, what was the question?

In his silkiest voice he replied, "Students are expected to have read the beginning two chapters of Magical Drafts and Potions and have reviewed the ingredients mentioned in those chapters using One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."

The spawn nodded his head in a mockery of respect and good manners. "Thank you, Professor." It was so obvious that he was trying to make his colleagues believe he was polite and well-behaved.

After the spawn and the swot left, he sat back and drew no more attention from his colleagues. He obviously needed to employ a more Slytherin approach to putting the spawn in his place.