A/N - So, I just wanted to let you know that from this point on in the story, there is going to be some dialogue taken directly from the book. This story is going to follow the story line of the book to a certain extent, but I'm going to change a lot of it around.

Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter! It all belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter 5

Potions class was in the dungeons. It seemed like such a fitting place for Professor Snape. As I walked, I thought about everything that had happened since I had left to come to Hogwarts.

I had been so amazed and excited before I had gotten on the train. Then I had met Ron and we had shared chocolate frogs and laughs and stories. I had turned Draco against me without meaning to. Then I was sorted into Slytherin. Now everyone hates me, even Ron. So I'm alone, in a hell of a big school.

When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was that it was much colder than the Great Hall, rather like the Slytherin common room at night. Glass jars holding pickled animals in colored liquid lined the walls. It gave me a creepy feeling, but I didn't let it get to me. The common room gave me the same feeling.

We filed in quickly and took our seats. I sat alone (no surprises there). I quickly discovered that we had Potions with the Gryffindors, and avoided Weasley's glare. The bushy-haired girl was with him again, and when they walked past me, she introduced herself as Hermione Granger. They settled in at the table to my left, but I ignored them completely, staring toward the front of the classroom and slightly dreading another encounter with Professor Snape.

He stalked in not long after everyone was seated, and the room was suddenly quiet. He was just the kind of person that you didn't even think about misbehaving around.

Professor Snape was tall and thin, with greasy black hair that hung to his shoulders and a large, hooked nose. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they were cold and a lot more indifferent.

He took roll call, and when he came to my name, paused.

"Ah, yes," he said, "Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed quietly. Draco smirked, looking at Snape, who finished calling off names and began speaking again.

"You are hear to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He spoke very softly, but the entire class was silent, so it was easy to hear him. "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."

The room was silent after he finished, and I thought to myself that it would have been a very good speech if he hadn't added the last line.

"Potter!" came Snape's low voice, and I snapped to attention. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I hadn't understood a word of his question. I glanced helplessly around the room, and noted Hermione Granger's eager hand in the air.

"I don't know, sir," I replied quietly. Snape sneered and remarked that fame clearly wasn't everything, pointedly ignoring Granger.

I wanted nothing more to tell him that he knew nothing about my life, but I figured that getting a detention on the first day of school wouldn't make a very good impression on anyone.

"Let's try again," Snape continued. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand shot up again, looking as if she was reaching desperately for the ceiling. I was getting a very bad feeling that I was going to do very bad in this glass. I had never heard of a bezoar before in my life. Was it a food? A plant? A nut? I could see Crabbe and Goyle shaking with laughter. Malfoy was smiling very widely into his hand.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Once again, Snape was wrong, because I had flipped through my books after I had bought them, but I suddenly couldn't remember anything. I held Snape's cold gaze defiantly.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione left her seat, her hand as high as she could reach.

"I don't know." I was getting fed up with Snape rather quickly, and began wishing that this class would end soon. I glanced at Hermione. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

I heard a few people laughing quietly, trying to hold it in, but I ignored them. Snape did not find it funny.

"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?"

Everyone hastily began scratching out notes. "And a point will be taken from Slytherin House for your cheek, Potter," Snape added.

We began working on the potion Snape had instructed us to concoct, a simple potion to cure boils. He stalked around, watching everyone weigh and crush ingredients. He criticized everyone except Draco, who seemed to be his favorite. Snape was just showing how Draco had perfectly stewed his horned slugs when acid green smoke and hissing filled the classroom. The boy who had fallen in the lake, whose name was Neville Longbottom, had melted another Gryffindor's cauldron. The potion seeped across the stone floor, burning holes in shoes and forcing everyone to stand on their stools. Red boils began popping up all over Longbottom's arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" sneered Snape. He waved his wand, and the potion immediately vanished. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Boils began to sprout on Longbottom's nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape snapped to the boy whose cauldron had melted. His name was Seamus Finnigan. Then he rounded on me.

"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 Slytherin."

This was unfair, and I just about opened his mouth to argue when I thought better of it and looked away. The Slytherins were going to kill me.

An hour later I left the dungeons with the rest of the class, somewhat upset. I hadn't done anything to Snape, so why did he hate me?

My next class was Charms, so I made my way silently to the warmer part of the castle and sat down, alone once again. The teacher, a tiny little wizard named Professor Flitwick, was trying to teach us to levitate objects. Everyone failed, of course, except Granger, who successfully levitated her feather into the air on her fourth try. Weasley watched her a bit jealously after that. Professor Flitwick awarded Gryffindor points, and I tried harder than ever to levitate my own feather. The closest I ever got was a infinitesimal little twitch of the feather. I left in a worse mood still.

This was not going to be a good year for me. I was new to the wizarding world, and it was obvious. I didn't hold my wand right, I couldn't get the hang of any spells, and I was average at best at mixing up potions.

Upset and angry at myself, I stalked down to lunch.

Tell me what you thought! :)