Chapter 6: A Waft of Potions
When Ivy awoke the next morning, she found she was the last person to. Everyone else's beds had the curtains drawn back, or had them re-closed hurriedly. She rubbed her eyes, and vaguely considered the possibility of just climbing back into bed and falling asleep, and she was in fact half way through climbing back in.
But, no. That wasn't going to happen. It was her first day at Hogwarts, especially if you exclude the previous eleven years of her life, so she was basically legally required to get up bright and early. So, instead, she pulled herself back out, walked over to a nearby mirror, and had a few heavy-lidded blinks at her hair. Bushy like Hermione's, only much less tidy. She grabbed her wand, and configured it into her usual hairstyle. Satisfied with the result, she began to dress.
…
"Morning," she said, stifling a yawn as she sat down beside Draco. In response, he gave her a flash of starfish hand, and continued to listen avidly as Blaise Zabini explained Boggarts to him.
"So, if you found a boggart, and you were on the run, would it become the local authorities, d'you reckon?" he interrupted, raising a singular eyebrow and staring at him, fixated. Blaise paused in the act of helping himself to some egg white and furrowed his own. He opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again.
"I've never thought of that." he answered, bemused.
"I suppose…" Ivy said thoughtfully, butting in. "It would really depend on if you have a deep set fear of something else, say werewolves, that you're scared of at all times, but if you didn't, then sure." she finished, shrugging, and taking another bite of her baguette.
Draco snorted, which was unfortunate for the milk he was drinking.
The first lesson of Ivy's day was Charms. The classroom was medium sized, with an enormous assortment of wooden chairs, armchairs, beanbags, and even a sofa cushion seated around small tables, which varied in size and shape. It was the most unclassroomy classroom she had ever had the pleasure of seeing. She was the first person to get there, and she immediately took a seat on a soft armchair facing a particularly fancy looking round table. The next person to arrive was Draco, who took the beanbag beside her and sighed heavily, as though finally having finished a long working day. Slowly, the classroom began to fill up with more and more Slytherins, all sitting down on the chairs of their choice. The last person to arrive, Gregory Goyle, sat on the sofa cushion.
The class at large began a low murmur of conversation, waiting for their teacher to arrive. She saw Goyle mutter something to a boy beside him, Crabbe, and the two guffawed. It was brought to Ivy's attention that the teacher was not, in fact, late, when she heard a high cough from somewhere. The class fell silent at once, all trying to figure out who had coughed, then Theo pointed to the top corner of the classroom.
Sure enough, when Ivy followed his hand, he was pointing to a very small wizard indeed. He had white hair, and a long beard covering a very wrinkled face, and he was holding his wand high above his head in his right hand, as if to signal silence. This was unnecessary, as even the most idiotic in the class were now watching him expectantly.
"I am Professor Flitwick, and I will be your Charms teacher this year," he said, in a friendly tone, smiling broadly at the class. "Now, since this is your first lesson of your Hogwarts career, I shall begin with a very simple spell: the levitating charm. Now, if anyone knows anything about it…?"
Ivy put her hand up, but she was the only one who did.
"How about you, miss…?"
"Ivy," she replied, "It's a spell that lets you make things fly,"
Flitwick nodded happily. "Excellent, dear. Five points to Slytherin! Now, if you would like to take out your wands…?" Everyone did as he instructed. The spell, Wingardium Leviosa, was a simple spell involving a swish-and-flick movement. They practised on feathers. So as not to look conspicuous, Ivy took a few turns without really focusing on the spell before doing it. She was, nevertheless, the fastest in the class, and Professor Flitwick awarded another five points to Slytherin. She spent the next twenty minutes walking around and talking to people. The bell rang.
Feeling thoroughly dishevelled, (he had not managed at all) Draco turned to her as they exited the classroom and gave her a puzzled look. She shook her head, and continued on her way to History of Magic.
…
Professor Binns was a ghost.
It hadn't occurred to Ivy when she looked at her timetable that this Professor Binns was not merely a descendant of the one she had known. It seemed as though when Binns had passed away (she strongly doubted anyone in the school would have mourned all that much) he had just gone on teaching. In life, Binns had been a middle-aged man who had already achieved a lined forehead and greying hair. Perhaps he would not live much longer, for this ghost form looked around the same age. He was well-renowned throughout the school as the worst teacher in Hogwarts, even among the founders.
So, when she got over the initial shock of her History of Magic teacher entering via blackboard, her expectations for the lesson quickly adjusted. She still did her best to pay attention to his droning voice as he rambled endlessly about Goblin rebellions, and took as many notes as she could.
In 1564, the great mediterranean subspecies of goblin wanted to fight against the humans,
1567, vanquished,
In meantime, Nicholas the Barmy attempted to make peace,
Was killed,
Several goblins were murdered in the subsequent…
But she only managed to get that far before she couldn't handle it and just threw her head back to stare at the ceiling for the remainder of the lesson.
Similar to the previous centuries, Professor Binns took no notice that the entire class was ignoring him.
…
Ivy hurried over to Rose when she spotted her in the corridor on her way to break.
"Hey…" she muttered breathlessly, clutching a stitch and walking beside Rose and Ron. "How've you been?"
"First period was History of Magic," Rose replied. They all groaned. "And after that was transfiguration."
"What did you think?" she asked, as they made their way down the stone steps.
"Well…" Ron replied thoughtfully, "It was interesting, but really difficult, and McGonagall was strict… so…"
"What he means to say is that it was fun." Rose finished hurriedly as the four of them sat under a particularly large tree overlooking the lake.
…
After Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and lunchtime, Ivy found herself walking down to double Potions. The warm staircase slowly changed into a dingy cellar hallway, lit only by the occasional torch.
As she arrived at the class, which she found to be a rather small dungeon, she took a seat in the back right corner, and took out her cauldron, potion materials, and book. There were a few other people there, namely Rose, who greeted her fondly, Pansy Parkinson, and Dean Thomas, a muggle-born Gryffindor. Once again, as people filed in, a low buzz occurred. Suddenly, the moment Neville had sat down, the door to the dungeon opened once again, and this time a much more impressive figure entered the room. He had black, greasy hair that dropped around his head in both directions, and a hooked nose. His cloak was billowing behind him as he strode to his desk, breathing slowly and carefully.
"Quiet," said Severus Snape, in a hushed voice that carried around the room. Similar to Flitwick, the instruction served no purpose, except now because everyone in the room was deadly silent, and watching him closely.
"Everyone can take out their wands," he drawled in a practised tone, "There is to be no foolish wand-waving in this lesson. I believe that many of those among you will hardly count the delicate art of Potions, a form of magic. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Now, let us see if any of you have come to my lesson prepared… POTTER!" The last word was not spoken delicately. It was treading the line between a snap and a shout. Ivy jumped, but as she looked up realised that it was not her who Snape was pointing at.
"Yes?" Rose asked, faking confidence.
"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Rose stared at him, bewildered. Ivy's hand shot up into the air, but not before Hermione's. Silently, she was enraged. What kind of teacher asks a student questions like that on the first day of the year?
"Well, let us see if your sibling knows…" Drawled Snape, inclining his head fractionally towards Ivy.
"A sleeping Potion, the- Draught of Living Death," she answered, speaking very quickly. Snape raised his eyebrows.
"It appears one of you has done your research… ten points to Slytherin, and, for your lack of preparation, Potter, I shall deduct the same amount from Gryffindor,"
Glancing around, Ivy saw that many in the class were struggling to hold in their frustration. Most of the Gryffindors were looking angry, and she counted at least half the Slytherins too. Beyond that, the lesson was a more difficult one than any of the others earlier had been. There were a lot of complex timings, and, other than herself and Hermione, nobody had managed to create a satisfactory potion to cure boils.
As they exited the class, Draco and Ron both looked furious.
"That greasy-haired, grumpy twat pig!" Draco snarled, the moment they were out of earshot.
"Yeah," Ron said, with a grim satisfaction, "What a pile of-"
He proceeded to say something that made Ivy say 'Ron!', and caused Rose and Draco to snicker.
