The beginning of the School was something Harry had always cherished. It used to be about being out of the Dursley's home, out of sight of his aunt and uncle who would throw him glares and looks when they thought he wasn't looking, away from the tense silences and the lonely lunches.
Starting school at Hogwarts was a whole other emotion that Harry knew he'd always hold close to his heart. He was learning magic! Watching so many amazing things happen that he could have only dreamed about before or heard stories of from his friend the snake. The moving staircases, vanishing steps, doors that needed to be politely asked so they would open for him or tickled in the right spot for them to swing open, the moving portraits, the people in said portraits and the professors that taught classes.
But that did not mean that Harry loved every aspect of this magical school. He could have done without the whispers of students when they saw him and then doubling back to see him again. He was famous for something he didn't remember, something that he was certain he had no hand in doing, something that got his parents killed. He would have preferred being a normal not famous wizard boy with his parents. He would have preferred ghosts not to pop up from nowhere, passing through walls and greeting the students. They got a kick out of freaking students out, but the students did not. He could have done without Peeves the Poltergeist, who got a kick out of playing pranks on the students and causing chaos.
"Peeves isn't really a ghost" his snake friend had told him after Harry had encountered Peeves, "he's just a ball of chaotic energy that over the years manifested into Peeves."
That had led to a whole discussion about ghosts, poltergeists and the ways magic could manifest things.
But even Peeves with his chaos ranked second in the things that Harry could have done without. Not even unfriendly Filch and his scrawny Mrs Norris were ranked first.
The worst thing in this school of magic was Severus Snape, his Potions Professor.
"They say Snape prefers Slytherin a lot since he's the Head of Slytherin House" Ron told him during breakfast, "we'll be able to see if that's true."
"Wish McGonagall favoured us" Harry muttered playing with his food. Professor McGonagall was the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. She taught Transfiguration, a section of magic that Harry didn't realize he'd become so invested in.
Defense Against The Dark Arts though was the class Harry was most excited for, and it was the most disappointed he had ever been in his school life. Professor Quirell turned out to be a bit of a joke, afraid of his own shadow and a nervous wreck. He stumbled over Harry's name and stared at him wide-eyed for a tad too long for the boy's comfort. The classroom smelt of garlic and the man's teaching methods were questionable. Professor Flitwick in Charms had also made a noise going over his name, but his teaching method was flawless. Professor Quirell was simply not a good teacher and ruined Harry's excitement for the subject.
Just as Harry finished his train of thought about his teachers, the post arrived, a hundred owls streaming into the Great Hall. It had been a shock to Harry the first time he'd seen it, but now he was used to it. Harry expected to get nothing from the mail, knowing well enough that the family he left behind would not be checking in on him, let alone sending him anything. His expectations were met.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons, where it was colder than up in the main castle. It was creepy enough that the classes took place in the dungeons, it did not need the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls for that.
Harry filed into the room with the rest of the Gryffindors. Harry hadn't gotten to know all his housemates just yet, only knew them by name. There was the lively and attention-loving Lavender Brown, the easy-going Seamus Finnigan, the bookish Hermione Grainger, the clumsy and forgetful Neville, the gossip Lavender Brown and the good-natured Dean Thomas.
The Gryffindors took the seat on one side of the chamber while their partnering House, Slytherin House, took the other side. Slytherin House would be their accompanying House for Potions, as Hufflepuff were with Charms and Transfiguration and Ravenclaws were in Defense and History of Magic.
The Slytherin bunch did not seem too friendly, sneering at the Gryffindors. Except for when their eye landed on Harry, then they would stare at him contemplatively, curious and calculating. And then one of them, the palest of the bunch, stepped forward and walked towards Harry, flanked by two bulky boys.
"Harry Potter," the boy said in a polite but even tone, a smile on his face.
"Yes?" Harry asked. Beside him, Ron seemed to tense.
"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
He held out a hand to shake and Harry was unsure whether he should take it or not. He did not get a good feeling out of this boy.
"Shake his hand" his serpentine friend hissed in his ear, still invisible, "Malfoy is an old and powerful family. Denying a handshake would be insulting. A good impression would serve you well Harry."
Harry bit his lip and against his feelings shook the boy's hand, said boy's face brightening up at that. Then his eyes went to Ron who stood stiffly beside Harry.
"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter" The boy's eyes went back to Harry. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
And there it was, the bad feeling. It had come back in full swing and more viciously.
"A brat" the snake hissed softly. Something in its tone made Harry think that the creature was disappointed.
"I think I can figure out the wrong sort for myself, thank you" Harry answered coolly and gently pried his hand back. The smile fell off the boy's face, ears tinging pink. Soon a sneer settled over it but before the boy could say more, the doors to the room slammed open and walked in Professor Snape, his cloak bellowing behind him.
Draco Malfoy gave Harry one last look before walking back to his side of the room.
Like Professor Flitwick from Charms Professor Snape started class by doing the name call. But unlike Professor Flitwick Professor Snape did not give an unnecessary reaction to his name.
"Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity" said Professor Snape softly. Harry heard sniggers coming from behind him.
Harry brought out a parchment and dipped his quill in ink as Professor Snape began his lecture. He would need to take notes like he did during his school days back in the muggle world.
"Drop it" Harry's snake friend hisses softly, "listen to what he says. Taking notes is unnecessary."
Harry lowered his quill.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame," continued Professor Snape in his soft drawling voice, "brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Silence followed the end of the speech, Harry and Ron sharing looks between them.
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" asked Snape suddenly.
Powdered what? Harry thought and panic began to build inside him. He looked at Ron who shook his head. The boy did not know either.
"I-"
"A sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death" came the gentle hissing interruption of the snake on his shoulder.
"A sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death" parroted Harry, sending a mental thank you to the snake.
Professor Snape raised a brow.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" asked the Professor.
"Stomach of a goat" the snake hissed again.
"Stomach of a goat, sir" parroted Harry again.
Now both brows were raised, more in surprise than anything else, Harry guessed.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"None, they are the same plant."
"None, they are the same plant."
Professor Snape stared Harry in the eye, pools of darkness seemingly drawing Harry in. A chill ran down his spine and a sharp pain erupted in his head.
Professor Snape staggered, his eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before narrowing on the boy.
"I do not appreciate cheaters in my class, Potter. A point from Gryffindor."
"Bu-"
"Don't" the snake hissed in warning and Harry held his tongue. "He doesn't know I gave you the answers, he simply does not believe you knew the answers already."
But Harry didn't know the answers. The snake had given it to him and he had just parroted them.
"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death" the Professor now addressed the entire class. "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?"
Maybe because you didn't ask us to, Harry thought angrily. The snake coiled a little tighter around his neck.
Things didn't improve much as the lesson went forward. Put into pairs the Professor had them brew a cure for boils. The man went around inspecting how the students went forward with the ingredients, criticising everyone but Malfoy. He came down extra hard on Harry, even if Harry was doing things perfectly, guided by the snake on his shoulder. No extra points were taken.
Then Neville went ahead and had an accident with his potion that gave him boils instead. The fault of course fell on Harry who was right beside Neville. Another point was taken for that. Harry would have protested, but this time Ron held him back.
Harry decided by the end of class that Snape would be one Professor he would not end up liking, no matter how things progressed from this point on. Though Harry doubted things would get any better.