Chapter 4 – First classes
Daphne stirred from her restful slumber to the sound of a forceful banging at her door. She could hear Tracey's voice through the door, "Hey Daph, did you oversleep? Breakfast starts in thirty minutes!" Daphne hurriedly responded, "Come in." Tracey entered the room and let out a chuckle when she saw Daphne still in bed. "You better hurry up," she warned. "We only have half an hour before breakfast starts. What happened? You never oversleep," Tracey inquired.
Daphne groggily sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She glanced over at the enchanted ceiling, which allowed a few stray sunrays to shine through, faintly illuminating the room. She then let out a big yawn and gave her friend a meaningful look. "I had a peaceful night," she replied in a hushed tone. "No nightmares for once."
Tracey nodded in understanding and directed her attention to Jingles. "Looks like this little fluffball protected you from your nightmares," she exclaimed, her face lighting up with a smile.
Daphne quickly snatched her freshly laundered uniform and robes from the trunk and scurried into the bathroom. "You can keep Jingles company while I do some damage control. If anyone saw me like this, Father would have a fit," she growled. With that, she slammed the bathroom door shut behind her, leaving Tracey alone with Jingles.
Tracey sat down on the bed and began to stroke the black cat. She could feel the softness of his fur beneath her fingers as she ran them over his back, eliciting a deep rumble of purring from Jingles. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you," she said, gazing down at the contented feline. "I've never seen Daphne so calm and relaxed before." The room was quiet, except for the gentle purring of Jingles.
~~~o~~~
After 20 minutes, Tracey grew restless and knocked on the bathroom door. The sound echoed through the quiet dorm room. "Daph, hurry up! We must leave soon, or we'll be late for breakfast. Poor Jingles already looks famished" she called through the door.
The bathroom door swung open, and Daphne looked surprised. "What? Didn't he eat enough at dinner?" she asked with a hint of fear in her voice, rushing over to check on Jingles. The black cat was curled up on the bed, looking content. Daphne relaxed, realizing that Tracey had been teasing her. She shot a glare at her friend. "You scared me, Tracey," she said, her voice still shaking.
Tracey let out a boisterous laugh. "I couldn't resist," she said, grinning. "Now grab Jingles, and let's get going. We don't want to keep the others waiting."
Daphne couldn't help but smile at Tracey's antics, the sound of her friend's laughter filling the room. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over her as she gazed at Jingles curled up on her bed. "You always know how to make me smile," Daphne said, walking over to pick up the black cat. "And I suppose I do look presentable enough for the public," she added, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. With Jingles in her arms, she made her way to the door, ready to face the day ahead.
As they walked out of the dorm room and into the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the empty corridor as they made their way to the Great Hall.
~~~o~~~
Upon entering the Great Hall, Daphne and Tracey where overwhelmed with the smell of freshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and brewed coffee filled the air. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the bright blue sky outside. The tables were already bustling with activity, filled with students of all ages, chattering and laughing over plates piled high with breakfast foods.
They made their way over to the Slytherin table and took seats among their first-year classmates. Daphne's eyes widened as she surveyed the selection of food on the table. There were platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden-brown toast, as well as steaming bowls of porridge, fresh fruit, and yogurt. The aroma of warm pastries and cinnamon-spiced oatmeal filled her nose, making her stomach grumble with hunger.
Quickly, she filled her plate with scrambled eggs, a slice of crispy bacon, and a fluffy croissant. As she took her first bite, she savoured the buttery, flaky pastry and the salty, smoky flavour of the bacon.
As she ate, she noticed Jingles staring at her with his big, pleading eyes. She broke off a piece of bacon and held it out to him, but he simply sniffed at it before turning his head away. Frowning, Daphne glanced around the table, searching for other options for the feline. But to her disappointment, the only meat served at breakfast was bacon, and it seemed Jingles didn't care for it.
As Jingles got up and left the Slytherin table, Daphne's thoughts were interrupted. Panic began to set in. Had she already failed at caring for Jingles? She watched as he made his way over to the Hufflepuff table and sat down behind Tonks, his old favourite. He seemingly got her attention since she turned around to look at him. Before she could observe any further, Malfoy's voice cut through her worry.
"Well, Greengrass," he sneered, "it seems the stupid feline has already abandoned you. Can't live up to his standards, can you? Now he's off to hang out with half-bloods like Tonks and Potter."
Daphne felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. She knew Malfoy was trying to provoke her, but it still stung. She clenched her fists under the table, resisting the urge to retaliate. She turned her attention back to Jingles and Tonks, who were both blissfully unaware of Malfoy's taunts. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. But her concern turned to relief as she saw Tonks put a bowl down in front of him and give him a good scratch behind his ear. Jingles happily meowed and picked up the bowl in his mouth, making his way back over to the Slytherin table.
Daphne felt a smile spreading across her face as Jingles placed the bowl on the ground behind her seat and looked up at her expectantly. She realized that he wanted her to lift the bowl onto the table for him. Carefully picking up the bowl, she placed it next to her plate.
As she set the bowl down, she couldn't help but notice the delicious smell emanating from it. Looking closer, she saw small pieces of cooked beef inside. Jingles wasted no time jumping up onto the table and happily munching away on the tasty meal. The tender beef practically melted in his mouth, and Daphne couldn't help but feel a little envious of her feline friend's breakfast.
Daphne's heart swelled with affection as she watched Jingles happily munching on his meal. She gently stroked his soft black fur and whispered to him, "I'm sorry, I'll learn how to properly take care of you." She felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him content and well-fed.
As she ate her own breakfast, she couldn't help but wonder where Tonks had gotten the bowl from. She made a mental note to ask her later. Despite her initial worries about Jingles, Daphne felt herself relaxing into the company of her fellow Slytherins and enjoying the delicious food before her.
~~~o~~~
Meanwhile at the Gryffindor Table
As they watched Jingles move between Daphne and Tonks, Harry and Hermione couldn't help but exchange curious glances. "I wonder what that was all about," Harry mused, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "It looked like he went to get food from Tonks, which seems odd."
Hermione nodded in agreement, adding, "This cat is getting more and more mysterious by the day. Did you notice that he paid no attention to the Sorting Ceremony, except for your sorting and Daphne's?"
Harry furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to recall the cat's behaviour. "I noticed him staring at me when I sat on the stool, but I hadn't realized that he was also observing Daphne's sorting. Did he not even glance at you, Hermione?"
Hermione let out a small sigh of disappointment. "No, when I got up from the stool, he was happily eating. Daphne was next, so that's why I noticed him observing her sorting. I still feel envious about it - we met on the train, and I would assume he's never met Daphne before. So why is he so fixated on her instead of us?" She spoke with a hint of venom in her voice.
"Come to think of it," Hermione continued, her frustration mounting. "You're also obsessed with her! What is it with this girl that everyone seems to be so intrigued by her?" Her tone was angry.
"For the last time, Hermione, I'm not obsessed with her," Harry protested, feeling slightly defensive. "She's just a mystery I want to solve. You're my only friend - why would I lie to you?"
Hermione's expression softened at Harry's words. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry, I should trust you more."
Suddenly the room was filled with the deafening sounds of dozens of owls. Their conversation was cut short as they watched the winged creatures swoop in, delivering mail to the students. Harry and Hermione eagerly reached for their copies of the Daily Prophet, which they had subscribed to on Neville's recommendation. Neville had received a package from his grandmother, containing a Remembrall, a magical device which would tell him if he forgot something.
Harry skimmed through the pages until his eyes landed on a headline that caught his attention: "Break-in at Gringotts." He furrowed his brow as he realized that was the same vault he had visited with Hagrid.
"Hey Hermione, look at this," Harry said, pointing to the article. "I was in that vault with Hagrid. He was the one who emptied it, he said it was 'Hogwarts business.' I wonder what was in that vault."
Hermione's expression turned serious as she leaned in. "You should be wondering how they managed to get in. There has never been a successful break-in at Gringotts before. You have a vault there, right? So this could affect you if the culprits return and perhaps empty your vault."
Harry's eyes widened in realization as he thought about the potential consequences. "I didn't even think about that. But you're right, it's really concerning."
Hermione let out a sigh. "But I would be lying if I said that I don't share your curiosity about the contents of that vault. Seems like an odd timing that Hagrid empties it and then someone tries to rob it."
They fell silent for a moment, lost in their thoughts. The clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation from the other students provided a background to their discussion. Harry finally broke the silence, "We should keep an eye out for any more news about the break-in. And maybe we can ask Hagrid about it later."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Let's hope nothing else happens." They continued their breakfast, discussing various articles from the Prophet and their concerns about the break-in, the aroma of freshly baked croissants and sizzling bacon wafting through the air.
After finishing their breakfast, Professor McGonagall made her way over to the Gryffindor table to hand them their class schedules. Hermione eagerly read through the list of classes, which included Defence Against the Dark Arts and Astronomy with the Ravenclaws, Herbology and History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms with the Slytherins. As she finished reading, she turned to Harry with a teasing grin on her face. "Looks like you'll have plenty of opportunities to solve your mystery in three different classes," she quipped.
Harry rolled his eyes in response. "Very funny, Hermione. Although technically, it's four classes if you count flying lessons. All four houses will be present for those, but I guess it's only for the first three months."
"Transfiguration is our first class, it seems," Hermione said, her voice filled with excitement. "Shall we retrieve our textbooks from the dormitories and make our way to the Transfiguration classroom? Since we're not yet familiar with the castle's layout, I think it's wise to arrive early to ensure we're on time for our first few classes."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Good idea," he said, standing up from his seat. He joined Hermione as they made their way towards the Gryffindor common room to collect their books, ready to head to their first Transfiguration class.
~~~o~~~
As Harry and Hermione entered the Transfiguration classroom, the door creaked loudly, breaking the silence of the hallway. The smell of old parchment and ink permeated the air as they made their way towards the front of the classroom.
Hermione looked around the room, taking in the details. The classroom was spacious with high ceilings and large windows that let in the morning sunlight. The walls were lined with shelves filled with various Transfiguration books and magical artifacts. A large wooden desk sat at the front of the room, with a high-backed chair behind it. A blackboard was on the wall behind the desk, with some Transfiguration diagrams drawn on it in chalk.
As they approached the seats, they noticed an old cat resting on the teacher's desk, watching the classroom with a lazy gaze. Its fur was a mottled grey, with patches of white around its muzzle and paws, and its amber eyes flickered with a hint of recognition as they entered the room.
"Look at that cat, Harry," Hermione whispered, pointing to the feline. "I wonder if it's a magical cat like Jingles."
As Hermione tried to pet the cat, it simply moved its head away, uninterested in her affection. Harry chuckled at the sight.
"It might be Professor McGonagall's cat," Harry said, gesturing towards the front of the room. "We should probably leave it alone and get ready for class."
Hermione nodded and they both sat down, the sound of wooden chairs scraping on the stone floor filling the room. They took out their textbooks, parchment, quills, and ink, ready to learn the art of Transfiguration.
~~~o~~~
The students gradually filled the classroom, taking their seats and exchanging greetings. Daphne and Tracey settled at a front row table opposite Harry and Hermione. Daphne was carrying Jingles and placed him on the table once they had sat down. Jingles meowed at the older cat on the teacher's desk, and the feline replied with a soft meow of its own, causing her to wonder what sort of conversation two cats could have.
As the students settled in, the old cat on the teacher's desk suddenly jumped and transformed mid-air, revealing Professor McGonagall. The class gasped in amazement at the sight of an Animagus transformation.
"Good morning and welcome to your first Transfiguration class," greeted Professor McGonagall. "Once you've all recovered from the shock, we'll get started on your first assignment. We'll begin with the principles of Transfiguration, and then move on to some practice."
She began the class with a thorough explanation of the theory behind Transfiguration, drawing helpful figures on the blackboard to illustrate her points.
Once Professor McGonagall finished explaining the theory, she pulled a match out of a matchbox and held it up for the class to see. "Today, each of you will attempt to transfigure a match into a needle," she announced. "If you have understood the fundamental principles, this should be an easy task. However, please don't forget that Transfiguration is a subject where determination and patience will be the key. You may not get every Transfiguration right the first time, and the only way to improve is by trying again and again."
After concluding her speech, she walked around the room and distributed a matchstick to each student. As she approached Daphne's table, she noticed Jingles lounging lazily on the table. With a stern look, she addressed the black cat, "Jingles, get off the table. You know you aren't supposed to be on the table when students are about to do magic." Jingles stretched his smooth fur and hopped off the table, only to jump onto Daphne's lap and curl up.
"Alright everyone, you may begin," Professor McGonagall announced, giving the class the go-ahead to start practicing their transfiguration.
Daphne, however, was preoccupied with Jingles, who was curled up in her lap. She absentmindedly stroked his smooth black fur as the other students began their attempts.
After a few failed attempts, Tracey let out a frustrated sigh and turned to Daphne. "Well, Miss tutored Pureblood – why haven't you tried it yet? Afraid that you're not able to do it?"
Daphne shot Tracey a pointed look. "Oh, you're on," she replied, realizing that she should have started earlier.
As she grabbed her wand, Daphne felt a surge of magic rushing through her, just like at yesterday's dinner when she first met Jingles. Suddenly, she had new information in her head that she was sure she hadn't heard before.
She concentrated hard, factoring in the weight of the matchstick and the power of her wand, and focusing on every aspect of the needle she wanted. Gleaming silver, the eye, the sharpness, its weight.
With determination, she waved her wand and the matchstick transfigured into a perfect needle.
Tracey's mouth hung open in disbelief. "I can't believe you just did that on your first try," she exclaimed.
Professor McGonagall promptly came over to inspect the newly transfigured needle. "Marvellous work, Miss Greengrass. Take 20 points for Slytherin," she said, addressing the class. "Please do not despair, it is highly unusual for students to transfigure their matchsticks fully during the first class. For one to achieve that feat, one must put in a lot of practice and have a knack for Transfiguration."
The students resumed their attempts to transfigure their matchsticks. Just before the end of the class, Hermione successfully transfigured her matchstick into a perfect needle, earning Gryffindor 20 points. Most students, however, had not been as successful, with only a handful managing to change their matchsticks in any noticeable way. Potter, Zabini, Malfoy, Parkinson, and Tracey were among the few who had made at least some progress. Most of their matchsticks had turned silver in colour, while Potter's had transformed into metal but still retained the shape and colours of a matchstick. Each of them received 5 points for their efforts.
As the bell rang and students began to file out of the classroom, Professor McGonagall called out, "Mr. Potter, please stay behind." The murmurs among the students quickly turned into speculation about what the professor could want from Harry. Meanwhile, Daphne and Tracey had just left the room when Jingles meowed and tapped on Daphne's arm. She put him down on the floor, and he started to walk back towards the classroom.
Daphne crouched down to him and said, "Hey, uhm. I understand that you're curious about what she wants from Potter." Jingles turned his head towards her, listening intently. She gave him a big smile and continued, "We have Potions class next. I'd be very happy if you would join me there once more." Daphne tried her best to act friendly, hiding the terrible fear she had of being abandoned by the feline. To her and Tracey's surprise, Jingles meowed in response and even gave Daphne a small nod before making his way back into the classroom.
~~~o~~~
The classroom was now empty, the only sounds were the soft rustle of papers and the gentle hum of the enchanted lamps. Harry, Jingles, and Professor McGonagall remained. The professor pulled out a chair and motioned for Harry to sit, the wood creaking slightly as he took his seat. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Potter?" she asked him, her voice smooth as silk. Harry nodded in reply, feeling grateful for the warmth it would bring. As soon as he sat down, Jingles leapt onto his lap, his fur tickling Harry's skin as he curled up. Harry's nervousness began to dissipate with Jingles' comforting presence. Two teacups then floated in, accompanied by a teapot which then filled the cups. The aroma of the tea filled the room, a comforting scent of chamomile and honey. The Professor took one sip and then continued, the clinking of the teacup echoing through the room. "I had promised you a talk to answer any questions you might have, back in Diagon Alley if you remember," to which Harry nodded in reply. "Then please go ahead," the Professor prompted him.
Harry's nerves were getting the best of him as he sat in the chair, with Jingles curled up on his lap. He braced himself for the answers he was about to receive, fully aware that they may not be pleasant. To break the ice, he decided to ask something small. "Before class began, you were a cat. I have heard of something called an Animagus - I assume that you are one, and that is your Animagus form, not some fancy Transfiguration, correct?"
The professor chuckled softly. "Yes, I am an Animagus, but as you will learn in your third year, the Animagus Transformation is also in the branch of Transfiguration. In essence, you transfigure yourself." Harry nodded in understanding. Jingles shifted on his lap, and Harry found himself absentmindedly stroking the feline. "At the start of class, did you actually talk with Jingles? If so, what did he have to say? Also, does that mean that an Animagus can understand and speak the members of their form's species?"
Professor McGonagall gave Harry a warm smile. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. An Animagus can communicate with members of their species. As to what Jingles had to say, he simply greeted me and asked if I was going to shock the students, as usual. He has lived here for ten years now, so he knows my charade quite well," she added with a chuckle.
Harry's hands fidgeted in his lap as he worked up the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at him since he first learned of his fame. "Professor, why am I famous? I have heard bits about it, like people call me the Boy who lived, as well as praising me for the downfall of a dark lord."
Professor McGonagall's smile faded, replaced with a solemn expression. "I will only say his name once, afterwards I shall refer to him as 'You-Know-Who'. Nearly ten years ago, at Halloween 1981, you ended the great wizarding war by causing the downfall of Lord Voldemort. That is why you are famous, Mr. Potter."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. "I ended a war?"
"Yes," McGonagall confirmed. "Each of your schoolmates, who hail from a wizarding background, have heard stories about you whilst they grew up. So, your fame will be most apparent here, at Hogwarts, where many students view you as either a hero of legend or as a 'villain' of sorts."
Harry's heart sank at the thought of being viewed as a villain. "Some see me as a villain? Why is that?"
"Some families still believe in the values You-Know-Who championed," McGonagall explained, her tone tinged with disgust. "Of course, no one will openly admit that, since it would land them in Azkaban, the wizarding world's prison."
As she spoke, the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room, and the faint aroma of tea and burning wax filled Harry's nostrils. He couldn't believe that his actions had caused such a monumental shift in the wizarding world, and he couldn't help but wonder what else he had yet to learn.
Harry gathered himself and asked, "Mr. Ollivander said that the 'brother' of my wand gave me the scar. Did he mean Voldemort's wand and mine share a core?"
"Please do not speak his name, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a grave expression. "You cannot imagine how incredibly dark the times of the war were. To answer your question, yes, that is exactly what Mr. Ollivander meant. The Phoenix whose feather is part of your wand's core only gave one other feather, which resides in You-Know-Who's wand. Hence his reaction was rather strong that that wand has chosen you."
Harry's heart sank at the confirmation of his fears. He didn't want his wand to be connected to such a terrible person. "But what does that mean for me?" he asked.
"I think it would be best for you not to dwell on that fact," the Professor said, giving him an encouraging smile. "You don't want your wand to become a reminder of such unpleasant thoughts."
With a heavy heart, Harry gave the Professor an understanding nod before mustering the strength to ask his final question. "Professor, how did my parents die?" he whispered, needing to know the truth.
The Professor let out a sad sigh, "I knew your parents well, Mr. Potter. I taught both of them, and we were members of the Order of the Phoenix, a resistance group fighting against You-Know-Who. If you would like, I could share stories about them at a later date, as our time between classes is almost up."
She stood up and began to pace the room. Harry followed her with his gaze, while Jingles contentedly purred in his lap, still calming him. With a heavy heart, the Professor continued, "To answer your question, your parents went into hiding shortly after you were born to ensure your safety. They moved to a small cottage in Godric's Hollow which had been placed under the Fidelius Charm." She noticed Harry's confused expression and added, "That is the most powerful protection charm known to wizard-kind, and very few can cast it. You will learn about it in 7th grade during Charms class." Continuing with a heavy heart, she said, "I don't think it is wise to go into the details just yet. What you should know, however, is that your parents were great people. They took out many of the Death Eater's top lieutenants, which is probably why You-Know-Who targeted them. They both died on Halloween 1981 in Potter cottage, protecting what they loved most - you."
As those words reached Harry's ears, a flood of emotions overwhelmed him, and tears streamed down his face. The knowledge that his parents had loved him so deeply that they gave up their lives for him brought a warmth he had never experienced. Jingles sensed his distress and comforted him by rubbing against him. Harry petted the feline, regaining control over his emotions.
"Thank you, Professor," he said in a hoarse voice. "You're right; we should save the details for another time. And I'd love to hear more stories about my parents."
Professor McGonagall nodded, smiling. "I'll arrange some weekly tea sessions, probably around dinner time," she said. "But now, we're almost out of time. You should prepare for your first Potions class. The entrance to the dungeons is close to the Great Hall; you won't miss it."
With Jingles in his arms, Harry stood up and addressed Professor McGonagall, "I'm looking forward to our tea sessions. Thank you, Professor, and have a nice day." The professor nodded in response, and Harry left the classroom with Jingles. As they walked down the corridor towards the Great Hall, Harry turned to Jingles and expressed his gratitude, "Thank you for being there with me. You really helped me keep my nerves." He then scratched behind Jingles' ear and suggested, "Now, if I remember correctly, we have Potions with the Slytherins. I can carry you there and hand you over to Daphne if you want." Jingles meowed softly in agreement, and Harry proceeded to make his way to the Potions classroom.
~~~o~~~
Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Potions classroom and was hit with a thick cloud of dust that made him cough. The air was filled with the heady scents of various ingredients, ranging from sweet and floral to acrid and pungent. He glanced around the room, taking in the cluttered shelves, bubbling cauldrons, and various instruments scattered across the desks.
Despite the chaos, Hermione's table was surprisingly organized. She sat at the front of the room, surrounded by textbooks, quills, and neatly labelled potion ingredients. When she saw Harry, she flashed him a warm smile and gestured to the empty seat next to her. He continued to scan the room until he spotted Daphne at the back of the classroom. He needed to deliver Jingles to her, so he approached her table.
Once he reached their table, Harry carefully placed Jingles on the wooden surface in front of Daphne. The black cat immediately nuzzled into her, purring contently as she started to pet him with a small smile on her face. Harry watched their exchange, and he wanted to say something, anything to break the awkward silence that hung between them, but his mind went blank. For what felt like an eternity, they just stared at each other until Daphne finally spoke.
"Thank you, Potter," she said in a softer tone than usual. Her expression was different, not as cold and aloof as it usually was. Harry couldn't help but wonder what had brought about the change.
Feeling a bit awkward, Harry simply nodded in response and made his way over to Hermione.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Professor Snape swept into the room. His black robes billowed behind him, and his sharp, hooked nose preceded him as he made his way to the front of the class. The students fell silent, intimidated by his imposing presence.
"Good morning, class," Snape said in his silky, velvety voice. "I am Professor Snape, and I will be your instructor for Potions this year."
He paused, looking over the students. "Before we begin, let me give you a brief overview of what this subject entails. Potions is the study and creation of magical substances, including elixirs, draughts, and, obviously, potions. These can have a wide range of effects, from healing to harm, and it is important that you learn how to create them with precision and care."
He took a deep breath, then continued. "Now, you may be wondering about spellcasting in this class. Let me assure you that it is not necessary. In Potions, you will be working with ingredients, measuring, and mixing. It requires a different set of skills and attention to detail. But don't think for a moment that it will be easy. You will need to follow my instructions precisely, or the consequences could be disastrous."
As he spoke, the students scribbled down notes in their parchment, some looking up at Snape every so often with a mixture of awe and fear. Snape then paused and looked around the room before posing a question. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room for someone to answer.
Hermione's hand shot up immediately. Snape's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke. "Yes, Miss...?" he prompted.
"Granger," Hermione replied confidently. "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite. It is mostly known for its use in the Wolfsbane potion, which helps control the symptoms of lycanthropy."
Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at Hermione, then he nodded. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your correct answer, Miss Granger," he said in a slightly less intimidating tone than usual.
He then asked the next question, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
As Hermione raised her hand again, Snape sneered, "Miss Granger, it is quite obvious you have read ahead in your textbook. I will not be calling on you for the rest of this class."
No one else in the class seemed to know the answer, so Snape turned his attention to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, can you answer the question?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Harry thought for a moment, but the answer eluded him causing him to shake his head. Snape's sneer deepened. "I suppose fame isn't everything, Mr. Potter," he remarked coldly.
As Snape scanned the room, he noticed Daphne was fixated on petting Jingles instead of paying attention. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Miss Greengrass, would you care to enlighten the class with your knowledge?" he asked sharply.
Daphne stuttered briefly before finding her footing. "The Draught of Living Death sir." she answered softly.
Snape nodded curtly. "Correct. Fifteen points to Slytherin,"
After asking the students the questions, Professor Snape turns his attention to the blackboard. With a flick of his wand, he clears the previous notes and writes the title of the potion: Boil-Cure Potion.
"Today's lesson will be on the Boil-Cure Potion," Snape says, his voice carrying across the silent classroom. "This potion is used to cure boils, as the name suggests. It's a relatively simple potion, but do not let that fool you. Precision is key when brewing this potion."
Snape proceeds to explain the instructions for the potion in detail, including the ingredients, their measurements, and the proper sequence in which they should be added to the cauldron. He stresses the importance of following the instructions exactly as written on the board, and warns that any deviation may result in a failed potion.
Once Snape has finished the explanation, he instructs the students to gather their ingredients and begin brewing the potion. The students move around the room, grabbing jars of various ingredients from the shelves and carefully measuring them out.
Harry and Hermione work together, with Hermione taking the lead and instructing Harry on the proper technique. Daphne works alone, quietly measuring out her ingredients and adding them to her cauldron. The classroom is filled with the sound of bubbling cauldrons and the soft clink of glass jars being put back on the shelves.
~~~o~~~
As Daphne continues to work on her potion with Jingles resting comfortably in her lap, she feels a sudden rush of magic again. She realizes that cutting the porcupine quills into small chunks before adding them to the potion would help the potion mix better, increasing its overall potency. It was like a voice in her head, guiding her on what to do. She remembered the rumours that Jingles' favourite would be blessed with academic success and realized that this had to be his doing. He must have seen these classes multiple times and was now giving her the information she needed at the right time.
Snape announces that time is up, and he would now inspect and grade everyone's potions. As he walks around the room examining the various potions, he stops at Daphne's desk and examines her potion closely. He nods approvingly, then turns to her and asks, "Miss Greengrass, what is it that you did differently with your potion?"
Daphne looks up at him nervously but stands her ground. "I cut the porcupine quills into little chunks before adding them to the potion," she says. "It seemed like it would help the potion mix better."
Snape raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Interesting," he says. "I must say, Miss Greengrass, you have brewed the best potion of the day. I award you five points for your efforts." He then adds, "I would like you to stay behind after class."
Daphne's heart races as she wonders why he wants to see her. She finishes cleaning up her work area, feeling nervous as the rest of the class leaves.
~~~o~~~
After class – Snape's POV
Severus Snape's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at Daphne Greengrass. How could a first-year student know about his techniques for using ingredients more efficiently, such as cutting porcupine quills into small chunks? He rarely taught these methods to anyone, let alone a beginner who seemed uninterested in his class. He waited until all the other students had left before confronting her.
"Miss Greengrass, I must say, I'm impressed," Snape began. "The realization that chopping the quills into smaller pieces would aid in the thorough mixing of the potion is truly ingenious. I must ask, though, where did that revelation come from?"
Daphne met his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, Professor, you see, I've been tutored for a year before starting Hogwarts to..."
Snape's mind drifted away from her words. He had assumed that she had been tutored like most Purebloods, but he was certain that none of the select few he had taught his techniques to would stoop so low as to tutor others in them. The girl was lying, and he had to give her credit for it. Lying came as naturally to her as breathing, a trait that would serve her well in Slytherin house.
If she didn't want to give him the answers he was looking for, he would simply have to take them by force. He decided to use Legilimency to get to the bottom of it, but quickly retracted when he felt her weak but present Occlumency shields. He knew he couldn't break them without getting caught, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that Greengrass was hiding something. He then noticed Jingles, the cat in Greengrass' arms, staring at him with a hint of hostility. Snape's heart skipped a beat as he caught a subtle shift in Jingles' gaze. Was it possible that the cat knew what he had just attempted to do with Daphne?
Snape shifted his focus to Jingles and sent his Legilimency probe to the cat's mind. To his relief, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Jingles' thoughts were filled with images of beef, his favorite food. As lunchtime approached, Snape assumed the intense gaze from Jingles was simply due to hunger. It was unlikely that the cat had caught him trying to read the girl's mind, but then again, Jingles was no ordinary feline.
Snape quickly refocused his attention back to the conversation at hand, trying to mask any indication of his previous distraction. He knew that any slip in his composure could prove costly, and he couldn't afford to let that happen.
"… and that is also why I didn't raise my hand earlier at your questions sir, I don't want to make the other students want to feel inferior to me" she concluded her explanation. "Also, sir if you don't have any more pressing matters, I really must go to the bathroom."
As Greengrass made her excuses to leave, Snape couldn't help but notice the small crack in her façade. It was a brief glimpse of vulnerability, a rare moment of genuine emotion from the normally composed girl. He filed the observation away in his mind, knowing that it could be useful in the future.
But what was she hiding? He still didn't have a clear answer to that question, but he was sure it was something significant. He knew that he had no valid reason to keep her here and pry further, so he relented.
"Very well Miss Greengrass, I shall continue to monitor your progress in my class with great interest. You are hereby dismissed, have a nice day."
As Greengrass gathered her things, Snape couldn't resist the urge to cast a glance towards Jingles, the cat she cradled in her arms. He had been observing the feline for a while now, noticing its odd behaviour and strange reactions to certain stimuli.
As they left the room, Snape couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling in his gut. He knew there was more to the girl than met the eye, and he was determined to uncover her secrets. As he sat at his desk, his thoughts turned to Jingles once again. What was it about that cat that was so unsettling? He made a mental note to explore his memories in the Pensieve for any other strange interactions with the feline.
He had encountered Jingles for the first time ten years ago when he had just started his tenure at Hogwarts. At the time, he had dismissed the cat as nothing more than a nuisance, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the creature than met the eye. The name 'Jingles' was also ringing a bell in his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why it sounded so familiar.
~~~o~~~
Daphne entered the Great Hall, the sounds of chatter and clinking silverware filling her ears as she cradled the sleek black cat, Jingles, in her arms. She scanned the room, taking in the various smells of the different foods being served. Her eyes fell upon Tonks, who was sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table, her red hair a stark contrast to her usual pink. Daphne hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with uncertainty. She took a deep breath and made her way over, hoping to get her help regarding Jingles' food.
"Hi," Daphne said softly, trying to get Tonks' attention.
Tonks looked up at her, a scowl on her face. "What do you want?" Tonks snapped at her. The hostility in her eyes took Daphne aback, but she pressed on, determined to get the help she needed. "I was hoping you could help me," she said, her voice steady. "I don't know how to get food for Jingles during mealtimes. Could you show me?"
Tonks hesitated for a moment, her hair turning pink again as she relaxed. "Sorry about that," she said, sounding apologetic. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I've been having a bad day."
Daphne nodded, understandingly. "It's okay, we all have those days. I'm Daphne, by the way."
"Tonks," she said, offering her hand for a handshake. "The house elves prepare the food – all you need to do is ask out loud what you want during mealtimes, and they will deliver it to you. That's how you get food for the little princess." She gave a mischievous grin towards Jingles, who let out a low meow in response.
"Thank you, Tonks," Daphne said, wearing a small smile. "I was really confused earlier during breakfast, but luckily you saved him. I will be taking my leave now. I hope your day gets better soon."
"No problem, and watch out for Jingles. He was a great companion to me," Tonks replied, scratching Jingles behind the ear, causing him to purr.
Daphne made her way back to the Slytherin table and took a seat next to Tracey. She placed Jingles in front of her on the table and asked for a bowl of cooked beef for him. With a soft plopping noise, his usual bowl appeared, neatly cut chunks of cooked beef inside. Jingles immediately began to devour it, the sound of his enthusiastic chewing filling the air.
As Jingles ate, Daphne perused the food options available to her. The smell of roasted chicken wafted towards her, but she ultimately decided on a pasta dish, the aroma of garlic and fresh herbs filling her senses as she dug in. She couldn't help but smile as she watched Jingles finish his meal, his contented purring a soothing background to the bustling of the Great Hall around her.
~~~o~~~
Harry and Hermione strode across the castle's cobblestoned courtyard, their footsteps echoing loudly. Harry was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes scanning the open space for any sign of the upcoming flying lesson. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, her eyes fixed on the towering castle walls that surrounded them.
As they drew closer, they could see Madam Hooch already waiting for them, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any tardy students. The courtyard was a large, open space, with ancient stone walls rising up on either side. The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, with a few fluffy white clouds drifting lazily by.
Madam Hooch turned towards them as they approached, eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and sternness. She checked her watch before speaking. "You two are rather early, class doesn't start for another 20 minutes."
Hermione spoke up, her voice polite but firm. "We're new here and still learning the layout of the castle. We didn't want to risk being late for our first flying lesson."
Madam Hooch nodded in approval. "A wise decision, indeed. I would deduct points for tardiness, as would most of your professors." She gestured towards the archway that led into the courtyard. "You're not the only ones who had the idea to arrive early."
As they turned to follow her gaze, Harry caught sight of Daphne and Tracey making their way towards them. The first-year flying class was attended by all the students at once, so it was no surprise to see them. However, Harry couldn't help but notice that Daphne wasn't carrying Jingles as usual, and the feline was nowhere to be seen. Harry began to wonder where Jingles could be.
Daphne and Tracey approached the group, their footsteps echoing through the courtyard. Harry felt a pang of nerves as he met Daphne's gaze, still trying to figure her out. He knew he had to say something, but just like earlier in Potions class, he just couldn't find the right words, causing him to stare at her awkwardly.
Luckily for him, Hermione broke the silence with a warm smile. "Hey Daphne, great to see you again. With the rush of classes, we didn't have the time to properly talk yet. You do remember we met at Madam Malkin's store, right?"
Tracey shot Daphne a surprised look, and Daphne's gaze shifted towards Hermione. "Hello Hermione, of course, I still remember you two from our meeting at Madam Malkin's store. And yes, our first day here had certainly been a rush. I am sure if we would share a house we would have found the time to talk, but alas that hadn't been possible until now." She replied in a rather aloof tone.
Daphne then gestured towards Tracey. "I guess I should introduce you to my best friend, Tracey Davis. Tracey Davis, meet Hermione Granger and Harry Potter." Tracey then shot them a big smile whilst saying a long "Hiii", warm and bubbly personality seemingly being a total opposite of Daphne's cold and aloof persona.
Daphne then turned towards Harry and said, "I also wanted to thank you for earlier, Potter. It was a nice gesture to bring Jingles back to me, surprising as it was."
"You're welcome, but why was it surprising?" Harry asked. "Jingles clearly has an affection towards you and seemed eager to get back to you. I just wanted to help him out."
To everyone's surprise, Daphne chuckled, breaking her icy facade. "I must say, Potter, you're not what I had imagined at all. Half the school is trying to curry Jingles' favour, and here you are willingly bringing him to your biggest competitor," she said, before her smile disappeared back behind her mask.
"I don't view you as a competitor, nor do I think that Jingles can only have one friend," Harry explained, with a hint of anger in his voice. "I met him on the train, and we became friends. I can also clearly see that he prefers your company over mine, but he came to me when I needed him, although I'm unsure how he even knew."
Harry looked around, searching for the cat, but he was nowhere to be found. "Speaking of Jingles, where is he? I'm surprised to see you without him," he said.
Daphne's small shrug didn't quite mask the worry that Harry could see in her eyes. As she spoke, he sensed a slight shift in her demeanour, as if she were hiding something behind her cool facade. "When he realized that flying would be our next class, he bailed," she said, her voice tinged with a note of concern. "No doubt to attend a more interesting class, perhaps together with Tonks?" Daphne's cheeks flushed as she spoke, and she quickly turned to Madam Hooch with an apologetic look. "By that, I didn't mean that your class is not interesting. I meant that it wasn't interesting for him, as there aren't any cat-sized brooms, at least to my knowledge."
Madam Hooch chuckled, seeming to find Daphne's explanation amusing. "It's fine, Miss Greengrass," she said. "Many find my class boring, and that's fine. The class is just to introduce you to the most common form of transportation. I'm also quite happy that the feline didn't accompany you. He has never chosen a first-year before, so he had never attended this class. I'm honestly not sure what I would even do with him if he was here. I couldn't let him get on a broom with you, since that would endanger you both."
The courtyard filled up with more of their classmates, bringing an end to their conversation. Once everyone had arrived, Madam Hooch began the lesson. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. I am Madam Hooch, your instructor for this class, and the organiser and referee for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup." She scanned the students before continuing, "Now, everyone, step up to a broom. Today we will cover the basics of mounting and lifting off."
The students took their positions, and Harry found himself standing between Hermione and Neville. Surprisingly, Daphne took the broom opposite him. As they made eye contact, Harry felt like she was assessing him. He wondered why she had adopted such a cold and distant persona at school. He knew she was concealing her true emotions under that façade; it was clear from their earlier conversation about Jingles. And he couldn't forget their meeting at Madam Malkin's store, where she had been friendly and warm. He also remembered the flicker of terror in her eyes, but he still had no idea what had caused it.
Madam Hooch's explanation brought Harry back to reality. "Now, everyone, put your dominant hand over the broom and say 'up.' Think of it as if you were casting a spell, without any wand movements required." The class murmured, and some attempted to follow her instructions, but their brooms only rolled around on the grass.
While inspecting the other students, Harry noticed that Daphne hadn't even attempted it once. Her gaze was fixed on him, not her broom. He had realised from their previous conversation that Daphne was a competitive person, and he wondered if she was making this into another competition. Was she waiting to see how many tries he needed?
Daphne then gave a small nod towards his broom, and Harry knew he was right. She was waiting to see how he would do before attempting it herself. Harry raised his right hand confidently over the broom and said, "Up." The broom shot up suddenly, but he held it firmly in his hand. He then turned his attention back to Daphne, giving her a confident smirk.
He couldn't tell if she was impressed by his display, as she maintained her usual aloof demeanour. He then nodded towards her broom, and to his surprise, she adopted a small smile. She elegantly moved her right hand over the broom and softly said, "Up." Her broom rose with precision and control.
Harry tried not to show that he was impressed by her display. They both only needed one attempt, however, Daphne had done it with finesse and grace, while Harry's had been more rough and uncontrolled.
As they waited for their classmates to get their brooms up, Harry couldn't help but feel unsettled by Daphne's confidence. He could hear the rustling of robes and the occasional clinking of metal as the other students struggled to get their brooms off the ground. Hermione's broom was particularly stubborn, emitting a low, whining sound as she finally got it to comply.
Finally, all the students managed to get a hold of their brooms, and Madam Hooch proceeded to give a demonstration on how to mount and lift off on a broomstick. The soft breeze picked up, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the sound of rustling leaves.
"Now that everyone is settled in, on my mark everyone will kick off the ground hard. You will then hover for a moment, before coming back down. Think of the broom as an extension of yourself, similar to how you use your wand for spells. Now get ready!" Madam Hooch observed the students once more, before she started a countdown "3, 2, 1 …" and then blew her whistle.
Neville was the first to lift off, the sound of his nervous screams echoing throughout the courtyard. Several others tried but didn't get far, their brooms rolling around in the grass. Harry could hear the sound of flapping wings as a flock of birds flew overhead, their chirping mixing in with the commotion.
After a few seconds, Neville's broom suddenly took off, leaving him clinging on for dear life. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and causing Harry's hair to whip around his face. Neville's screams echoed through the courtyard as he soared high into the sky, his arms flailing wildly as he struggled to gain control of his broom.
The other students looked on in horror as Neville flew above the roof of the castle and got caught on a statue at the edge of the courtyard. The statue was of a winged horse, and Neville's broomstick tangled in the horse's tail. The statue teetered for a moment before crashing to the ground, causing Neville to fall from the broom.
Madam Hooch acted swiftly, her wand flashing as she cast a spell onto the ground where Neville was hurling towards.
The sound of his body hitting the ground was muffled by the soft grass, but the impact was still enough to cause gasps of horror from the watching students. Neville lay still for a moment, his eyes closed, before he groaned and began to stir. Madam Hooch hurried over to him, her face pale with concern.
"Are you alright, Mr. Longbottom?" she asked, helping him sit up.
Neville rubbed his head, wincing in pain. "I think so," he muttered.
Madam Hooch examined him carefully before helping him to his feet. "The cushioning charm probably saved you from serious injury. Let's go to the hospital wing and get you checked over," she said. She then glanced over the students "All of you stay firmly grounded while I'm gone" she added with a stern voice.
As Madam Hooch took Neville away, the students erupted into various chatter. Harry could hear the sound of people murmuring about how lucky Neville was to be alive, while others discussed how they didn't think flying would be that complicated to learn.
Suddenly, Malfoy picked up Neville's Remembrall, and announced loudly "Well if the fat idiot would have asked this he would have remembered to fall onto his fat arse." Harry was surprised to see Daphne roll her eyes in response to Malfoy's words. Without further thinking about it, he stepped up to Malfoy and said "Give it here Malfoy." The sound of his footsteps crunching on the grass was the only thing that could be heard as he walked towards Malfoy, his heart pounding in his chest.
Malfoy smirked and said, "I think I'll leave it somewhere for the squib to discover. How about on the roof? He must enjoy heights now after what just happened." He got on his broom and flew towards the roof.
Harry got on his own broom, but Hermione pulled his shoulder before he could take off. "Are you crazy? You've never flown a broom before. And besides the risk of injury, didn't you listen to Madam Hooch? We have to stay on the ground, or you'll get in trouble" she said with a worried tone.
Harry looked at her and saw that the whole class was watching him, curious about what he would do. Even Daphne was giving him a keen look. He ignored Hermione and kicked off, chasing Malfoy. He caught up with him quickly, since he was much faster. His control wasn't perfect, but he felt great. Flying was so liberating, it felt natural to him. He blocked Malfoy's path and said sternly, "Give it back, Malfoy. This is your last chance."
Malfoy laughed and said, "What are you going to do, Potter? Knock me off my broom?" But then he saw Harry's serious face and realized he wasn't joking. He threw the Remembrall with all his strength, making it fly past Harry. Harry turned his broom around and followed the Remembrall as fast as he could. It was heading towards a tower, but Harry grabbed it seconds before it would have hit the tower. He flew back to the class, holding the Remembrall in triumph. As he landed, most of his classmates cheered for him, while both Daphne and Hermione looked disappointed, though Daphne was more subtle.
As Professor McGonagall emerged from the archway leading into the courtyard and called out for him, Harry's heart sank. He wondered what punishment awaited him. But to his surprise, she led him to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She motioned for him to wait outside and went in. After a few moments, she emerged with an older student in tow.
"Mr. Woods, I would like you to provide an introduction to Quidditch for Mr. Potter here. I will be giving him special permission to attend this year's try-outs, since I believe he would fill the open position of Seeker quite nicely," Professor McGonagall said, looking at Harry.
The older boy, who had been studying Harry with a critical eye, spoke up. "If you are willing to subvert a rule, Professor, he must have shown some great flying skills. Alright, meet me after classes in the courtyard where flying lessons are held," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Oliver Woods, by the way."
Harry shook his hand, relieved that he wasn't in trouble and excited at the prospect of trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you," he said, grinning from ear to ear.