Chapter 8
Harry met Ron in the Great Hall for lunch.
"How was McGonagall?" Ron asked uncertainly.
"Fine. Turns out she was just having tea with us for Violet's birthday."
"There he is, next to the tall red haired kid," a darked haired Ravenclaw girl whispered to her friend as they passed the table.
"With the glasses?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Violet frowned at the girls as they passed. Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
The whispers and stares followed Harry out of the Great Hall, through the corridors, and even to class, when he could find his classes that is. The castle was massive with a hundred and forty-two staircases. Some were grand and sweeping. Others were old and rickety and likely only held together with magic. Some led to a different floor on a Tuesdays. Some had a vanishing step that you had to remember to jump. The doors were another matter. Some wouldn't open unless you asked politely while others were not doors at all, but just walls pretending to be doors. It was very difficult to remember where anything was because it all seemed to move around.
Violet, with her mysteriously enhanced memory, had an easier time of it; however, she often woke far earlier than Harry and Ron so they couldn't ask her to help them navigate to breakfast. Violet had also befriended Hermione Granger, much to Ron's annoyance. So between classes Ron and Harry would keep their distance from the girls which meant they were often separated going to and from classes.
When he finally found them, the classes themselves were another challenge. It was far more than just waving a wand and saying a few Latin phrases. On Wednesday nights they had to take their telescopes to the Astronomy Tower to study the nights sky. Herbology was three times weekly where they learned how to care for odd magical plants. The charms professor, Flitwick, was a tiny man who stood on a small stepladder behind his podium so he could see the students as he gave instruction. In their first lesson, he squeaked with delight as he reached Harry and Violet's names.
Professor McGonagall was different. Despite her kindness during Violet's birthday tea, she had been quite correct when she told Harry she would not give him special treatment outside her office. She was a stern and foreboding woman outside of her office, but also very clever. After sternly lecturing them on how dangerous her subject, Transfiguration, could be, she changed her desk into a pig and back again. It was all very impressive.
As excited as the class was to get started, they soon realized it would be a long time before they would be transfiguring furniture. Instead, they first took a series of complicated notes. Then McGonagall handed them each a matchstick and told them to turn it into a sewing needle. By the end of the class, only Hermione had succeeded, much to Violet's frustration.
Everyone had been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's classes were a great let down. His lectures on dark creatures were almost as boring as Professor Binns. He tried to tell them stories of his travels for flavor, but seemed to get scared half way into a story and would change the subject.
The upside of it all was when Harry realized he was not miles behind everyone else in his studies. There was so much to learn that even people like Violet, with her private tutors and perfect recall, and Ron, from an all wizard family, did not have much of an advantage.
Friday was a big day for Harry and Ron because they made it all the way to the Great Hall without getting lost. As usual, Violet and Hermione were already seated, discussing their schedule for the day when Harry and Ron sat on her other side.
"… double potions today," Violet had been saying as they sat. "This is the class I've really been looking forward to."
"I'm excited too," Hermione agreed. Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione was excited for all their classes. "But I've heard Professor Snape is really strict. Even more so than Professor McGonagall."
"I guess we'll see for ourselves," Violet said, unphased.
"How do you think it will be?' Ron asked Harry.
Harry shrugged, trying to focus on his breakfast. And yet he couldn't shake the image of Snape glaring at him from the teacher's table during the start of term feast.
The mail arrived. It had taken Harry and the other muggle-borns time to get used to the flood of owls that swooped in every morning delivering letters and packages. Hedwig had not brought Harry any mail, but would often come in and give Harry an affectionate nip and share his bacon before heading up to the owlery to sleep. Today the beautiful owl brought a note addressed to Harry and Violet written in a very untidy scrawl.
Dear Harry and Violet,
I know you get Friday afternoons off. Would you like to come down to my hut for a cup of tea after your lessons? I want to hear about your first week of school.
Hagrid
Harry borrowed Violet's quill and wrote on the back of the note "Yes please! See you then." He then handed the note back to Hedwig who flew away.
"Everyone ready?" Violet asked Hermione and the boys.
Tired of getting lost on their way to class, Violet had gone exploring after dinner the previous night before curfew and found the potions classroom so she led the way to the dungeons. The room was drafty and the shelves lining the walls held jars with slimy and grotesque creatures inside. Snape started the class by taking to roll and paused when he got to Harry's name.
"Ah yes, our new celebrity," he commented with a sneer.
Draco snickered to his friends, Crabbe and Goyle. Snape paused for a moment at Violet's name too, but only gave her a quick, disinterested up and down look. He finished calling the roll and looked up at them.
"I am here to teach you the subtle science of potion making. As there is no wand waving or incantations used, some of you may doubt this is even magic. A select few in this world truly understand the beauty of a simmering cauldron and the delicate liquids. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death." Hermione sat up straight in her chair eagerly. Snape's eye flashed towards Harry. "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air.
Harry stared back, confused. Powered what to an infusion of what?
"The draught of Sleeping Death," answered Violet promptly. "It's one of the most powerful sleeping potions."
Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. He had been looking at Harry and clearly been asking Harry his impossible question. But as he had only called his surname, Violet answered in his place. Violet looked calmly up at him. It was obvious she knew she had answered out of turn. It was also equally clear that she was not bothered by it either.
"Correct." Hermione lowered her hand, disappointed. "Miss Potter where would you look if I was to ask you to find me a bezoar?"
"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. So I would look for a goat."
Snape cocked an eyebrow, obviously impressed. Even Draco Malfoy was watching her with interest.
"Very good." He folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Violet frowned at him, unsure why he was trying to publicly challenge her like this.
"That's a trick question, sir. They're the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."
"Is she correct, Mr. Potter?"
Harry stared up at him, stunned. Why had he been dragged back into these questions?
"I don't know, sir. I suppose so."
He sneered at him.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book once all summer? Clearly fame isn't everything."
"Who wants to be famous for having dead parents?" Harry shot back.
Snape's gaze turned murderous.
"One point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Potter," he spat savagely. His eyes returned to Violet and softened. "And for the record, Miss Potter's answered were all correct. I suggest you all take notes. Now."
There was a flurry around the classroom as students scrambled for quill, ink, and parchment. After the class had finished writing down Snape's questions and Violet's answers, Snape spoke again.
"Divide into pairs. You will be brewing a cure for boils. Instructions are on the board and the ingredients are in the cupboard. Start now."
Harry and Ron worked together as Hermione and Violet paired up. Ron and Harry were barely able to see the instructions through the foggy mist of potion vapors that quickly filled the room. Hermione and Violet argued a bit because Snape's instructions differed from the textbook.
"If he wanted us to follow the textbook, he wouldn't have put instructions on the board," Violet told her friend.
Seamus and Neville were struggling the most. Halfway into the lesson a cloud of acid green smoke began pouring out of their cauldron. Snape rushed over.
"Settle down. You added the porcupine quills before you took it off the heat," he explained, exasperatedly. "It's an easy fix. Longbottom, add another handful of nettles. Go and get some more from the store cupboard. Quickly." Neville rushed over to the cupboard, tripping several times. "While he does that, Finnegan, take the cauldron off the heat." Seamus did as he was told even as he coughed on the putrid smelling smoke. Neville returned with the nettles. "Add them to the cauldron," Snape instructed.
Neville obeyed and the green smoke stopped gushing from their cauldron. Snape gave his wand a lazy flick and a gust of wind dissipated the rest of the foul smelling smoke. Snape addressed the rest of the class.
"I hope you all learned something. A potion is easy to fumble, but rarely is it beyond repair. For homework, I want you all to write a roll of parchment explain why this potion reacted the way it did when the porcupine quills were added before removing it from the fire and also why adding more nettles fixed the mistake."
With the excitement over, Harry leaned over to look in his cauldron.
"I'm not sure this looks right," he said to Ron.
Ron agreed, but couldn't find a way to fix it in the book.
"You should be finished by now," Snape called. "Place a sample of you potion in a corked vial, label it with your name and bring it to my desk. Then put away your things. The bell will ring soon."
Harry and Ron corked their samples, glaringly aware that their potion was a sickly gray and not the pretty blue of Violet and Hermione's potion. At least it wasn't yellow like Crabbe and Goyle's potion. However, as Harry and Ron set their sample's on Snape's desk, he sneered.
"I'm not sure what I expected from you, Potter, but this is disappointing even for you. That's another point from Gryffindor."
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
"Don't push it. I've heard Snape can get really nasty."
Harry fumed as he gathered his books. He turned to Violet as the bell rang. To his surprise, she was not done putting away her things and seemed to be taking her time on purpose.
"Are you coming?"
"Go on ahead, I'll catch up."
Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks but left along with the rest of the class. The dungeon classroom cleared out. Feeling eyes upon him, Snape looked up. Violet Potter looked up at him, a strangely curious expression twisting her features. He turned back to his desk, busying himself with a stack of essays his fifth-year students had turned in earlier that day.
"What is it, Miss Potter?"
She did not reply so he looked at her again. She was twisting her braid in her hands nervously and looking at the floor.
"Um… Professor Snape?"
"What?"
"Professor Severus Snape? Is that right?"
His eyes narrowed. Why would she know his first name?
"Yes."
"Um… The… the night my parents… the night they were killed… They were talking about you." She kept her eyes on the floor and didn't see his reaction to her words. "Dad was saying… to mum… about making things up to you. I was wondering… have been wondering for a long time now, actually… What did he mean, sir?"
She finally looked up at him. Snape looked at her with a blank stare.
"I don't know," he said coldly. "Go. You'll be late for class."
He put his back to her and busied himself with the essays again. Violet sighed. She wasn't sure what she had expected really. She gathered her books into her bag.
"And Miss Potter," Snape said suddenly, "three points to Gryffindor for correctly answering my questions."
"Thank you, sir," came the uncertain reply.
After a moment, Snape heard the classroom door open and then close behind him.
When Violet caught up with Harry and Ron, they were both still complaining about Snape. Hermione had likely disappeared to their dorm already since Ron didn't seem to like her much.
"But why does he hate me so much?" Harry was saying.
"Don't worry about it. Fred and George have lost loads of points but people still like them. Can I come to tea with you two and meet Hagrid?"
"Sure," Violet answered.
The trio made their way to Hagrid's house, a wooden hut near the forbidden forest. Harry knocked and they heard a scuffling sound and several booming barks.
"Just a moment," Hagrid's muffled voice called. "Get back, Fang. Back, yeh dozey dog."
The door opened and Hagrid beamed down at them, holding the collar of a very large black boarhound. It was a one room cabin with a massive bed covered by a patchwork quilt in the corner. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling. A copper kettle boiled on the hearth of a large fireplace. In the center of the room was large table with a Hagrid sized chair and several smaller stools.
"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said as he closed the door behind them. He released the dog's collar and the beast immediately started sniffing their feet and tried licking their ears. Fang, like Hagrid, was not nearly as fierce as he first seemed.
"This is our friend, Ron Weasley," Violet said as the sat on three of the stools around the table. "Ron, this is Hagrid."
"Another Weasley, huh?" Hagrid said with a tinkle in his eye. "Spend half me days chasing yer brother outta the forest."
Hagrid serve scalding tea and rock cakes that could break teeth. The children politely accepted them and pretended to enjoy them as they talked about their first week. Harry was glad to hear Hagrid call Filch "an old git." Harry then explained his first Potions class. Hagrid beamed down at Violet.
"Answered all his questions, did you? Good girl! Sharp as a tack, just like yer mum!"
"But then Snape took points away from Gryffindor because my potion wasn't perfect," Harry complained. "I didn't mess up nearly as much as some others."
"The teachers all have high expectations for you, Harry," Hagrid said vaguely.
"But Snape seemed to really hate me."
"Rubbish. Why would Snape hate you?" But Hagrid didn't meet Harry's eye as he spoke. He turned to Ron. "How's yer brother, Charlie. I liked him. He was great with animals."
Ron started talking about Charlie's work with dragons as Violet took a copy of the Daily Prophet off the table and started reading. Harry glanced over her shoulder but then did a double take. She was reading an article about the break in at Gringotts. The article said the break in happened the same day Hagrid too them to Diagon Alley. "Nothing was taken," the article said, "because the vault had been emptied earlier that same day."
"Hagrid," Harry cried. "That break in at the bank happened the day you took us to Diagon Alley. It may have been happening while we were there!"
Hagrid definitely avoided Harry's eye as he grunted and offered them more rock cakes. Emptied earlier that day. Hagrid emptied the extra vault they visited that day.
None of his classes gave Harry as much to think about as tea at Hagrid's
