Notes: I have got to get more of a plot together for this story, but in the meantime, have some settling-in and starting classes. Also, we meet some of the teachers. There is no brotherly contact in this chapter. Surely absence will make the heart grow fonder?
It's occurred to me that I don't think I have any Enemy Teachers in this story. As a former teacher of young kids myself, I think I don't have the heart for it. And anyway, Loki's had enough troubled relationships with authority figures for one lifetime!
Warnings: The timeline in this chapter is very slightly wonky: it starts with a general summary of the week, and then backtracks to Monday for a bit more detail.
Chapter Six
The first week of classes was rather a blur: Loki and his new friends felt lucky if they found their way to breakfast before lunch time, let alone to all their classes. Fortunately Hufflepuff's ghost, the Fat Friar, was very helpful to the first-years, and they quickly learned that prefects, in spite of being tall and superior, were always willing to direct- or sometimes even lead- frantic younger students to the correct classroom.
Even so, what with the staircases moving, doors sometimes requiring special knocks or tickles before they would open, and the sheer size of the castle, most of the first years were late to at least one class in the first week.
Also, as Loki had feared, he spent much of that week smelling rather pickled. The Hufflepuff common room could only be entered through the passage behind the barrel, and if you tapped on the wrong barrel, or got confused and tapped the wrong rhythm, not only would the passage not open, you also got doused in vinegar for your trouble.
"No one but Hufflepuffs have seen the inside of our common room in a thousand years," Becky informed them cheerfully on the first morning. Loki rather thought some of the new Hufflepuffs might never see it again, after he and Mitchell completely forgot which barrel to after dinner on Monday, and they all four found themselves soaked, smelly, and stuck in the hallway until Rogers happened along to rescue them. (It turned out the magical supply of vinegar was equal to repeated soakings, if the tapper was both confused and persistent.)
On Tuesday, it was George who forgot, and on Wednesday Loki found himself behind a group of third-years who were so involved in a discussion of their Arithmancy homework that one of them absent-mindedly rapped out "shave-and-a-haircut" instead of the correct rhythm.
On Thursday after lunch, Loki was quite sure Mitchell tapped the wrong barrel on purpose, just to distract George from his anxiety about their upcoming flying lessons. By this time Loki was beginning to feel rather guilty about the amount of extra work he and his housemates were creating for the school's house elves, and left an apologetic note pinned to his wet clothing, addressed to the elves who would have to deal with the mess. There was no note in reply when he returned to the dormitory after dinner, but Loki discovered his bed had been re-made much more neatly than he had left it.
Aside from these occasional vinegar baths- and really, as Mitchell pointed out, at least they could not possibly catch flu or anything, not when they kept disinfecting themselves at this rate- the worst thing about the first week was not being able to exchange even a word with Thor. Loki saw his brother from a distance several times, but either he was rushing to class or surrounded by his friends- and once, in the dining hall, he got up from the Gryffindor table and walked away just as Loki was approaching. Loki wasn't sure whether his brother had done it on purpose, but he couldn't make himself run after Thor like a puppy, not in front of the whole school, so he returned to the Hufflepuff table trying to look as if nothing had happened.
The best thing about the first week, aside from no longer being alone all the time, was beginning classes.
The Hogwarts term always began on September second. This was a year in which September second actually fell on a Monday, which meant they began with a full week of classes. For Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, that meant double Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing on Monday morning.
Really, Loki thought later, the timetable had done them all a favour: after facing Professor Fury, a person could be quite confident nothing more terrifying could happen to them for the rest of the week. Not that he seemed to go out of his way to be scary, he was just one of those teachers who naturally filled students with the urge to hide underneath their desks.
Professor Fury walked into the classroom, looking very much like a storm cloud with feet, and slammed his copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection onto the podium at the front of the room. All the students flinched.
"All right," he said, his one dark eye scanning the class for any sign of inattention, trouble, or Dark wizardry, "let me make one thing perfectly clear: I do not put up with any fooling around in my class. I don't care if there's been ten years of peace, and I don't care if you're eleven years old, because the Dark forces don't care, either. It's my job to teach you how to recognize them, protect yourself from them, and have the basic common sense not to let yourself give in to them. You pay attention, and ask the occasional halfway sensible question, and we'll get along fine. You start thinking there's anything exciting, or cool, or attractive about the Dark Arts… and we won't."
Loki swallowed hard as Professor Fury looked around the class again, his eye pausing on each face, sure as anything the teacher could see the Dark magic running right through his veins. He was almost surprised when Fury just glanced at him and moved on without comment before beginning his lecture. Loki still took diligent notes on everything Fury said, even though his hand was cramping badly by the time the teacher excused them.
"Whew!" Jane whistled, as they left the classroom. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to check under my bed for Dark sorcerers tonight. What do we have next?" she asked Bruce, who had his timetable out.
"History of Magic, with Slytherin," Bruce announced. "And I have no idea where the classroom is."
"See you later," Jane said, as she and Bruce ran off to look for their next class.
"The funny thing," George said thoughtfully, "is that having him tell us there really are things to be scared of somehow makes me less scared of things."
"George, you're weird," Mitchell announced, as they walked out of the castle in search of their own next class, Herbology with the Gryffindors in Greenhouse Number One.
"No, I'm serious," George insisted. "It's much worse when people keep telling you there's nothing to be afraid of, and you are anyway."
Loki realized his mouth was hanging open, and closed it. No one noticed, because just then Annie looked around.
"You know, I don't think this is the way to Greenhouse Number One," she said. "And we've lost everyone else." The four friends looked at each other, and then headed for the corner of the castle at a dead run.
~oOo~
Herbology was not exactly easy, but at least it wasn't frightening. They stood at a long raised planting box, a row on either side. Professor Sprout- and her assistant Mr. Longbottom, who was training as a teacher- organized the students so they alternated by houses: a Hufflepuff, then a Gryffindor, then a Hufflepuff. Loki and Annie were one either side of Clint, whose uniform was noticeably cleaner and in better repair than it had been when he arrived. Loki wondered exactly how many house elves worked at Hogwarts, and hoped they felt it was a good job.
Clint might have been much cleaner than he had been last night, but Professor Sprout was, in turn, a great deal dirtier: her gray robes were smeared with earth, as was her face, and Loki had never seen dirtier fingernails on a grownup. She smiled a greeting at the students and said, in her clear, cheerful voice,
"Now, we will begin with common herbs that have beneficial properties. In the planting box before you, you will find spearmint and peppermint, both of which have calming and protective powers. You will draw and label one specimen of each, and you may work in pairs- one Hufflepuff and one Gryffindor." Annie turned to the Gryffindor girl to her right, and Loki paired off with Clint. Professor Sprout added, with kindly firmness, "Keep in mind that failing to work well together will cause you to lose points for your houses. And- begin."
Loki and Clint each had their textbooks, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, in their schoolbags. Clint's was at least second-hand and had been considerably marked on, including outlining and shading on many of the illustrations. This meant his book wasn't a lot of use in identifying real plants, so they used Loki's to figure out which of the plants was peppermint and which spearmint. Loki could draw rather better than Clint, so he sketched the plants while Clint referred to the book to check his work.
"Those leaves should be pointier," Clint said, and Loki scratched carefully with his quill.
"Like this?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's better," Clint nodded.
"How are you liking Gryffindor?" Loki asked quietly. Clint went silent, and after a moment Loki looked up to find the other boy almost glaring at him. "I'm not making fun of you," Loki said hastily. "I know you wanted to go… somewhere else."
"It's all right," Clint muttered. "Everyone's… everyone's being nice to me." He sounded as if the admission hurt his throat. It occurred to Loki that Clint's big brother probably talked about Gryffindor the way Loki's big brother talked about Slytherin. And then he couldn't help asking,
"Have you met my brother yet? Thor Odinson, in fourth year?"
"Yeah," Clint replied. "He's cool." In a smaller voice, he said, "You're really lucky."
"Yeah," Loki muttered. "Lucky."
After Herbology there was a free double period, then lunch. By next week they would surely need that time for homework, but today they went to the owlery, to take Bronwyn flying.
Loki hadn't really thought of this when he first started yearning over Bronwyn, but he was glad she was a member of a species that was active in the daytime. When he and his friends found the owlery, she acted happy to see him- or anyway she flew right to his shoulder and made squeaking noises in his ear- which Loki liked, but also made him glad he was wearing a heavy robe over a shirt and jumper.
The lawn behind the castle was a good place to play with a ground-nesting owl. Loki hadn't thought to bring a toy for Bronwyn to chase, so he took off his socks and rolled them into a ball to throw for her. Mitchell kicked up quite a teasing fuss about having to touch Loki's socks, but he took a turn throwing the same as all of them.
"You should get a tennis ball and a racquet," George suggested, as he threw the socks straight up and they watched Bronwyn snatch them in mid-air. Loki had watched tennis with Bindi a few times, until the elf decided it was a dull game. Loki still didn't know how the scoring worked, but batting the ball back and forth looked like it would be fun, especially if there was an owl flying around to pounce on any misses that went rolling across the grass.
After a while Bronwyn seemed to get tired of chasing the socks, and flew with them to a tree branch. Clutching them in her talons, she pulled at them with her beak as if trying to disembowel them.
"Oh-oh," Annie said, pressing a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. Loki didn't find it quite so funny.
"Oh no, what if she eats them? Bronwyn, stop that- " He had, luckily, stuffed the last of the Owl Treats in his pocket before leaving the dormitory, and now he shook the packet. Bronwyn looked up, ear tufts lifting, and then dropped the mangled socks and flew to Loki. "Good girl," he said in relief, offering an Owl Treat.
By now there was really no time to go back to the dormitory for a change of socks, so Loki pulled the ruined ones back on and, after returning Bronwyn to the owlery, they hurried off to lunch, and then Transfiguration and Charms with the Slytherins.
"Does anyone know where the classroom is?" Loki asked, as the Hufflepuff first-years joined the Slytherin first-years on their way out of the dining hall.
"Not even a tiny clue," Darcy replied glumly.
"Do you know what, I think it would be helpful if they gave us a map of the castle along with our timetables," Annie remarked.
"This is probably supposed to help us learn to be resourceful and self-sufficient," Natasha suggested.
"You know what else will help us learn to be resourceful and self-sufficient?" Mitchell said. "Getting hopelessly lost in the castle and having to scrounge for our own food and shelter for weeks."
"The Hufflepuffs will get eaten first," Darcy promised, and Mitchell grinned at her.
"Does anyone know where that dog came from?" George asked suddenly.
Everyone in the group stared at him. "What dog?" Darcy asked. George gestured. They all looked around, and Darcy and Annie both squealed. "How cute!"
The dog, in Loki's opinion, was not precisely "cute," although Loki would agree he was rather handsome, a businesslike border collie with a black coat and a shining white shirt front. He was pacing along just behind and to the right of the gaggle of first-years as they walked down the corridor.
"Are we sure he's not a Grim?" George asked suddenly. "Isn't a Grim a black dog?"
"But he's a black and white dog," Annie pointed out. "And besides, I don't think Grims are ever border collies. Or Labradors, come to think of it."
"What's a Grim?" asked a Muggle-born Hufflepuff called Dennis.
"It is generally considered an omen of Death," Natasha replied calmly. Loki glanced at the dog, who regarded him levelly out of its eerie hazel eyes. Loki didn't quite edge backwards.
"I think a border collie is generally considered an omen of going someplace in a group," Mitchell said. "And I also think the classroom is down this way."
Mitchell started to turn down the corridor, and the dog trotted smoothly out in front of the group and blocked him. Mitchell stopped, and the rest of the first-years behind him. The dog lowered himself a little and made intense eye contact as he edged forward.
"Mitchell, don't stare at the dog," George said nervously, pulling his friend backward. "That's one thing I know about dogs: they don't like to be stared at."
"I'm not staring at him," Mitchell protested. "He's staring at me!"
"I'm pretty sure he's trying to get us to go that way," Darcy said, pointing down the corridor in the other direction.
"Yeah, but is that the way we want to go?" George started to argue. The dog crouched, took another step forward, and the first-years gave in, wheeling and hurrying down the indicated passage like a flock of nervous black lambs.
"It would be a lot easier if the dog would just lead us in the direction he wants us to go," Loki grumbled as the dog glided forward to block them from turning down another passage.
"That's not how border collies work," said a chunky Slytherin called Ian, who was bringing up the rear. "And slow down, would you? When I can't keep up, he starts nipping at my ankles!"
"He's not supposed to do that," Darcy protested. "That's corgis!"
"Well, you tell him so!" Ian told her.
Eventually, the first-years arrived in a corridor which dead-ended at a classroom door. The dog seemed determined they should enter, so they did.
"If this isn't the right classroom, who wants to explain things to Professor Coulson?" Dennis asked.
"Like I said, Hufflepuffs get eaten first," Darcy reminded him.
"Where's he going?" George wondered out loud, as the dog trotted past them toward the teacher's podium. As he did so, the air around him seemed to wriggle and in the next instant the students were watching Professor Coulson, in his neat black robes with a white cravat at the collar, turning toward them at the podium.
"Transfiguration," he said calmly, "is a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, via the alteration of the object's molecular structure. Human transfiguration- including any discussion of animagi- is, of course, a subject for your upper years here at Hogwarts. We are going to start a great deal smaller. Will everyone please take out their quills and a roll of parchment, and we can begin on the basic principles."
Loki closed his mouth with a snap and began to root in his schoolbag.
~oOo~
"You know what I need," George said on Tuesday morning, as he wolfed down toast and eggs. "I need an extra reservoir for my brain. Wouldn't that be handy? When the main brain fills up, I could just siphon off some of the excess into the reservoir and keep right on learning."
"That would be awfully handy," Mitchell agreed. "My brain's getting full and it's only Tuesday."
"Especially with double Transfiguration this morning," Loki said. "And then- what's after break?"
"Potions," said Annie, without consulting her schedule. "With Ravenclaw."
"And Professor Slughorn," Loki muttered. The head of Slytherin.
Loki was trying to convince himself that facing the head of Slytherin wasn't so bad- after all, he'd spent most of Monday afternoon with the Slytherin first-years, between Transfiguration and Charms, and they seemed all right- when Annie's sister Becky came sweeping up to sit down beside her.
"I can't stay long," she said quickly, "I have to get to Care of Magical Creatures, but I wanted to make sure you're all right. We haven't had nearly enough time to talk this last couple of days."
Annie glowed under Becky's regard, and assured her sister that everything was going well and she hoped Professor Coulson would turn into a border collie again today. Becky laughed as she rose from her chair.
"Yes, some of the boys call him 'Shep' behind his back, but don't let me catch you doing that. How are you three?" she went on, casting a friendly glance over Loki, George, and Mitchell. "All right?"
"Yes," Loki said, when her regard fell on him, and he felt like he might have glowed a little bit, too. And then he couldn't stop himself saying, "We have Potions this afternoon, with Professor Slughorn," just to see how Becky would react.
"Do you?" she said. "Well, make sure you measure everything twice before you put it in your cauldron, although Slughorn's not likely to set you anything dangerous until you've had some practice. Potions is a tricky subject."
Loki decided it was encouraging, that Becky offered advice and warnings about the subject instead of the teacher. And then a couple of passing fifth-years called to her, and she patted Annie and ran off out of the dining hall.
Professor Coulson didn't turn into a border collie for this class, and he set them quite a lot of notes and diagrams in the first half of the class. For much of the second he had them practicing with their wands and a basic incantation, trying to turn a matchstick into a needle. By the end of the class Loki was one of three students who had managed to at least turn their matchsticks silvery, and he was awarded his first five points for Hufflepuff.
This small feeling of accomplishment sustained Loki as the Hufflepuffs searched for the Potions classroom, but it leaked away as they took their seats and waited for the class to begin. The Ravenclaws had just had Charms, and came scurrying in as Professor Slughorn entered the classroom from the other door.
"Good afternoon," he said, and introduced himself. "The ability to make potions is one of the most valuable tools of any witch or wizard. It is an exact, and exacting, art, requiring patience and attention to detail. For this reason, many first-year students find Potions to be a frustrating class. I can assure you that, if you are diligent, you will eventually be pleased with your results." He smiled generally around the class, and Loki felt himself relax slightly.
"Now," the professor went on, "given that this is our first class, and our time is short, I think perhaps our best first lesson is a small illustration of the finicky nature of potions-making. On page thirty-two of your text, Magical Drafts and Potions, you will find instructions for an amusing little potion called Faceret Ampliora. If brewed correctly- well, we will see if anyone manages to brew it correctly. The ingredients may be found in the cupboards at the back of the room. You may have the rest of this class to brew your potions- individually, please- and make notes on them. We will test your results at the end of the class, and you will each save a sample of your potion so that on Thursday morning we can discuss it and your notes to determine how you came by the results you did.
"Very well- back rows first, in an orderly fashion, please go find your ingredients."
Loki wasn't sure what he had expected from the Potions teacher, but a perfectly reasonable greeting and an invitation to experiment wasn't it. He set up his cauldron, fetched his ingredients, and settled down to attempt his first potion.
The process was oddly soothing, although Loki could tell by comparing his results to the description in the textbook that he was doing something wrong. Professor Slughorn roamed the classroom, peering into cauldrons, offering commentary in an amiable tone, and making notes on everyone's efforts. Loki took special care to make accurate notes of what he was doing, because he had a strong suspicion that on Thursday morning, it would turn out Slughorn remembered every move everyone had made and would be ready to dissect them in detail.
He glanced up as Professor Slughorn stopped at the table where he, Annie, Mitchell and George were working. The teacher peered into Loki's cauldron, which contained a bubbling greenish mess that looked like thick pea soup.
"And what do you think of this, Mr.- Odinson, am I correct?"
"Yes," Loki mumbled. "Loki Odinson."
"You father is Odin Odinson?" Professor Slughorn went on, ignoring the stifled splutter from Mitchell. Loki nodded. "Good man. Tell me, what do you think of this potion?"
"It's… pretty bad," Loki admitted. "It's much too thick, it's not supposed to have lumps, and it's not nearly green enough." It's not supposed to look like bogeyspopped into his mind, but he suppressed the urge to say it.
"Oh, I wouldn't say bad, not for a first effort," Slughorn said genially. "Save your sample at the end of class, and then read the entry in the textbook and consult your notes for Thursday morning. We'll see if you can explain where you went wrong."
"Yes, sir," Loki muttered.
"Good man," said Slughorn, and moved on to the rest of the table. George's potion was noticeably less lumpy than Loki's, but more yellow than green. Mitchell's potion was thin and clear, but for some reason was bright pink.
"Oh dear," said Professor Slughorn. "I think, dear boy, we will not save a sample of this potion. This is… not a common result, but it can be rather volatile. In fact- " He flicked out his wand and, with a fastidious gesture, made Mitchell's potion vanish. Looking at the stricken face before him, Slughorn said kindly, "A most interesting result, if not what we were hoping for."
He moved on to Annie, who looked distinctly nervous, examined her cauldron, and then said in a pleased voice, "And here we see a very creditable effort!" Annie looked startled as Professor Slughorn reached into his robes and brought out a dipper with a pewter handle and a clear glass bowl. He scooped up a small amount of the potion and held it up to the light. "Very creditable indeed."
Turning to the rest of the class, he said, "If you would all please notice- there is some sediment, which is undesirable, and the colour is that of mature grass, rather than- well, Mr. Stark, in seventh year, refers to the exact shade as British racing green, which may be of some help to some of you- but still, you will notice the potion is not at all cloudy, the colour is strong and even and- "
"- not pink," Mitchell muttered. Loki stifled a snicker of his own.
"- really, I think this is the best result in class today. Well done, Miss- ?"
"Sawyer," Annie supplied.
"Sawyer." To the class in general he asked, "Shall we test it?"
The whole class nodded. According to the textbook, if properly brewed this potion would temporarily increase the size of any living creature it was administered to. Professor Slughorn took the dipperful of potion to the front of the classroom, where he produced a potted dandelion.
"I always recommend that you have a good supply of dandelions on hand, for testing any potion that works on living creatures," Slughorn remarked, as he set the plant on a table where everyone could see. "The days of testing on house elves and younger siblings are behind us." A few of the students laughed- which indicated they were either Muggle-borns or had not read far enough in A History of Magic. Professor Slughorn added, "Daisies and pansies also work well, and can produce a most amusing effect with a draught like this one. Miss Sawyer, if you would be so kind as to join me- "
Annie went to the front of the room, looking rather embarrassed, and hung back shyly as Professor Slughorn allowed a dribble of her potion to fall on the yellow head of the dandelion.
It immediately shot upwards, growing at least six feet tall in the blink of an eye, its stem like a young tree trunk and its leaves nearly as long as Loki's arms. As the students looked up in wonder, the yellow face, like a sun, turned as if to look down at them.
The plant stood there for a shivering moment, and then collapsed under its own weight, shrinking rapidly into a shriveled little mass that looked as if it had been touched by frost.
"The effects should last a great deal longer than that," Slughorn noted. "But still, for a first attempt- have you done any potions-making before now, Miss Sawyer?"
"No," Annie replied. "But my mother taught my sister and me to cook."
"Ah. Your sister is in fifth year? Rebecca?" Annie nodded. "Also a proficient potions student. You do her credit. Ten points to Hufflepuff." Looking around, Slughorn added, "And five to Ravenclaw, since more of you produced a completed effort of some sort. Please ensure your name is on the cork of your sample phial and leave them in the rack at the back of the room. Then you may tidy up."
As they hurried out of the classroom a little later to find their way back to Greenhouse Number One, still congratulating Annie on her triumph, Loki couldn't resist admitting, just to his three friends,
"I can't believe Professor Slughorn is the head of Slytherin."
"And I can't believe your dad's name is Odin Odinson," Mitchell giggled.
~oOo~
By Friday night, all the first-years were exhausted, and most of the older students looked tired as well. Loki and his friends were in the common room- which smelled of peppermint, lavender, and faintly of vinegar- sitting on a rug they had dragged over to a corner near the fireplace. George was reading A History of Magic- Professor Binns' lectures were dry going, and George had decided he could get as much out of reading the book as from exhausting himself making notes. Mitchell was still trying to work out why his first potion had gone pink- by now he knew his result would have turned the dandelion into a fanged monstrosity, and he badly wanted to see what that looked like. Annie and Loki were both writing letters to their parents.
"Is it bragging to tell them I got ten points for my first potion?" Annie asked.
"I don't see how, since it's the truth. I'm going to tell my parents I managed to turn a matchstick grey in my first Transfiguration class," Loki replied. "And I might tell them that I'm friends with the person who got ten points for her first potion."
Annie stuck out her tongue at him, giggled, and went back to her letter.
Loki looked around at George, frowning in concentration. At Mitchell, scribbling over his original notes and muttering to himself. At Annie, writing fluidly, as if she had more happy things to tell than ink to tell them with.
Then he dipped his quill in his ink bottle and wrote at the bottom of his letter,
Dad, what you said to me on the train platform… I think you were right.