Chapter 6: Of Gits and Break-Ins

The first week of school was very overwhelming.

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry had to be by far the most barmy, most chaotic, most brilliant place I had ever been to in my life. There were surprises that seemed to never end, like the unexpected moments of staircases changing directions while you were on them, steps disappearing entirely,and classrooms that seemed to be there one day, then gone the next.

The first few days seemed even harder on Harry. We had made friends quickly with our dormmates, but it seemed as if the rest of the school saw Harry as a muggle fair attraction. You know. One of those odd ones that had full grown horses the size of your shoe?

At least, that's what Charlie told me once.

Students would always point and whisper as Harry and I walked past, or sat down somewhere, or did just about anything. I could tell that all the attention he was getting kind of annoyed him. He didn't want it. He didn't ask for it. Harry truly did not understand just how famous he and his story was. But the brilliant part that I respected was that he didn't seem to care. He just wanted to do like all us other kids were doing.

As if the students weren't bad enough, some of the teachers seemed fame struck as well. Especially our Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick.

Classes so far were interesting and fun. On Wednesday nights, Herbology in a humid greenhouse with Professor Sprout, however, we also had the most most boring class known to man, which was History of Magic. It was taught by a ghost by the name of Professor Binns. His voice droned on and on and on a few occasions, put Harry and I right to sleep.

Professor McGonagall seemed to be the only teacher that didn't buy into Harry's fame. Or anything for that matter. She was indeed a right no nonsense kind of witch. Brilliant, but strict.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said on our first day of class. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She changed her desk into a pig and back again. It excited me, and I was looking forward to changing everything into animals, maybe have my own farm out here, but soon we realized we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. Instead, after wearing our hands out with copying down a ton of notes, we were each given a match and told to turn it into a needle. By the end of the class, only Hermione had been able to do it.

Showoff. Why did she have to be good at every damn thing?

Defense Against the Dark Arts sounded like a wicked class. So we were very much disappointed when we got there and this rather jittery git named Professor Quirrell was teaching it. He seemed positively mental, taking time every now and then to stop teaching and mutter to himself words that we couldn't understand.

Friday had arrived and with that came our first Potions class.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins." I said, reading off my timetable as I ate cream of wheat. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. Fred says he always favors his house. Guess we will finally be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but she didn't treat us any different than she did any other student.

Mail arrived with owls flying all over the Great Hall. Harry had this really pretty snowy owl named Hedwig. Much better than that screech that Percy had. She really was a brilliant bird. Even though Harry has yet to get any mail (he never expected any, he said that his aunt and uncle had probably forgotten about him the moment they left him at the station) she would still fly in to show Harry a little bit of love or knick some toast off of him. However, this particular morning, she flew down and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open and raas it, saying it was from that Hagrid guy, who was the groundskeeper. He had wanted Harry to come by his hut after classes, so Harry took my write back that he would and sent Hedwig on her way.

Then we headed down to Potions.

Worst. Class. Ever.

Potions took place down in one of the dungeons. It was freezing down there. The classroom looked eerie with all the weird pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Professor Snape was a tall, gangly looking man with long, greasy black hair that framed his face. He hardly ever smiled, and on the rare occasion that he did, it looked liked it didn't belong on his face. He wore long black robes that only added to the creepy effect that I guess he was going for.

Way to stay into character, mate.

He began to call the roll, and when he got to Harry's name, he paused.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."

Malfoy and his idiot cronies snickered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he said. His voice was very monotone, but you could tell it commanded respect.

The question was, would I be willing to give it to him.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and I exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, looking quite put out that she had been lumped in with us apparent dunderheads.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked stunned. Clearly this man didn't expect him to have heard of this. He has to have known he was raised by magic hating muggles.

"Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?" Harry quickly whispered to me. I myself didn't really know too much about what the man was saying. Apparently, Hermione did because her hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape sneered.

"Tut, tut" he said. "Fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's frantic handwaving.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. I didn't know what annoyed me more. Snape putting Harry on the spot for no reason, or this teacher's pet always raising her hand. It just wasn't fair. Harry didn't have a clue what a bezoar was, and Snape knew it.

"I don't know, sir." said Harry, staring at Snape.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" said Snape, sounding like a childish bully. I felt my own skin grow hot with irritation for Harry. However, Harry stood his ground. And continued to have his eyes locked on the git.

Hermione's hand still waved around in the air. Snape continued to ignore her.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" asked Snape.

Hermione stood up, practically jumping up and down, hand stretched up as if she wanted to touch the ceiling.

Merlin, get this kid a calming draught.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Us Gryffindors, with the exception of Hermione, laughed. Seamus gave Harry a triumphant wink. Snape, however, looked like something died under his nose.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione, making her sit so quickly, she almost missed her chair.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. 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?"

Everybody pulled out their parchment books and began to write

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." sneered Snape.

I hated him more than I hated being poor.

The rest of the time was dreadful, especially for us Gryffs. Snape paired us off and had us mix up a boil removing potion. He watched us intently as we chopped up and mashed ingredients, criticizing all of us, except that tosser Malfoy, whom he seemed to favor, bragging about how the git had perfectly stewed his horned slugs. All of a sudden, green smoke and a hissing noise came from Neville and Seamus's station. Poor bloke had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a blob monster, and their potion was all over the floor, burning holes in people's shoes. We hopped up onto the stools to avoid the potion, however, Neville was drenched in it and started crying and yelling in pain as huge and horrid looking red boils popped up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snapped Snape as he waved his hand and vanished the potion. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville pitifully nodded.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and I.

"You! Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Fucking asshole! As much as i wanted to stand up and give him a piece of my mind, I decides against it, and swiftly kicked Harry in the leg to shut him up. He looked ready to explode.

"Don't push it." I whispered. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

We left the classroom and made our way up from the dungeons. Harry looked a mix between enraged and discouraged.

"Cheer up." I said. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

"Sure." said Harry, him perking up a bit. "He's brilliant. You'll love to meet him."

We made our way down to Hagrid's hut, which was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was sort of a round stone building, with a garden and birds flying all around.

Harry knocked on the door. We heard loud barks from inside. "Back, Fang! Back." said Hagrid's booming voice as he cracked open the door.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let us in as he held onto to collar of a huge black boarhound.

It was much smaller than the downstairs part of the Burrow if you could imagine that. Didn't look like he had much room to do anything. Still, it was cozy and warm, very inviting.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who jumped onto me and started licking my ears. I laughed. Fang may have looked like a bruiser, but like Hagrid, he was just a giant softie.

"This is Ron." Harry said introducing me. I gave Hagrid a wave as I continued getting "viciously assaulted" by Fang.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, looking over my red hair and freckles, signature Weasley signs. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

I smiled. "Yeah, they are some troublemaking blokes."

Hagrid served us a weak tea and rock cakes, which looked exactly like rocks with raisins on them. They were hard as bricks, but Harry and I pretended to be enjoying them to be polite, as we told Hagrid all about our first lessons. Fang had moved onto Harry, resting his head on his lap, drooling all over his pants. Harry didn't seem to mind as he patted Fang's massive head.

We laughed as Hagrid expressed equal disgust for Filch and his filthy snitch of a cat, Mrs. Norris. He even said he wouldn't mind feeding her to Fang. The conversation then turned to our horrible first day in Potions., where Harry told Hagrid how he felt Snape had it out for him.

"But he seemed to really hate me." said Harry.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

"I really don't know. He's worse than the Dursleys. And you know how they are."

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked me. "I liked him a lot, great with animals."

"Oh he's doing fine." I answered. "He's in Romania. He's a dragon tamer now. Seems to be good at it. Haven't heard of him being burned to a crisp yet."

"Hagrid, what's this all about?" asked Harry, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet. He then read it out loud.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes goblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid grunted and tried to change the subject by offering us one of his fucked up cakes. To humor him, we accepted. But it didn't take our minds off what Harry just read.

As we headed for dinner, Harry told me about his trip with Hagrid to Gringotts, and how Hagrid had gotten something that he said was top secret out of Vault 719. The very vault that was robbed. The cogs in our minds started to turn. What could Hagrid be hiding and why?

Harry and I gave each other the same determined look. We may not have known what he was keeping from us then, but we were not going to rest until we found out.