Chapter 9 - First Day of Classes - Part 2 - v1

Stats as of last chapter:

Aubrey Hawthorne

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Level 8

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Age - 11

Race - Human

Sex - Female

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Str - 15

Agi - 16

Dex - 16

Con - 14

Int - 29

Wis - 27

Luc - 18 (21)

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Stat Points - 40

I drop my bags off at my dorm after talking with Professor Allsbrook and get to dinner just after six. For my meal, I choose to have some sausages, roasted potatoes, a good mound of deep green vegetables and some bright orange carrots. Once I’ve eaten, a few other people are finished and getting up to go before dessert, so I follow them out. I want space to look for the Come and Go Room without running into other people.

Wandering the seventh floor alone is sort of lonely. My steps echo along corridors so far away I can’t see the, and the only people I run into is a ghost that doesn’t notice me as it floats immediately through a wall and older students in corners kissing who also do not notice me.

The first room I check at random appears to be a former garrison room, where bows and other such weapons are still stored on the walls. A number of racks and old, ruined bits of wood and string litter the floor. I am unable to enter the room though, as it has some sort of ward or magical barrier on the doorway. I suppose that’s smart, and I have to walk away from it.

The next interesting thing I find - aside from ample abandoned classrooms - is a collapsed room with a few old portraits on the walls. When they see me, they tell me a quick tale about how things were in the fourteen hundreds, when this was a classroom and how they taught in it.

“If a little girl like you came wandering in unknown places and got caught, you’d have been given a stern lashing!” One of the old men’s portraits snaps gruffly, crossing his arms.

“I’m not wandering, sir, I’m on a quest,” I attempt, trying to use words that might appeal to him. “Have you heard of the Come and Go Room?”

“Young one,” one of the other portraits says, “what Professor Bullwark means to say is, girls are not best suited to adventuring and you should-”

“It’s not an adventure, I just need to find a room,” I glare.

He smiles as if to a toddler. “Is there some feature around the room we could help you find?”

“As I’ve already told you three times, it’s of someone teaching three trolls how to ballet dance,” I growl. I’ve never dealt with sexism well.

“Oh, you want to learn ballet!” The first man almost shouted, as if he had finally cracked the puzzle. “Well, in that case you should visit the school materon, ballet is a wonderful sport for a young lady!”

I don’t give them the satisfaction of an answer, I simply turn my back and slam the door behind me.

I storm down the corridor glowering at the portraits I see along the way, muttering to myself about disgusting people I’d rather like to burn, when I stop in my tracks and take a few steps backwards.

There, the portrait of the trolls learning to dance.

Success!

Brushing off my anger, I test that I am in the right place by walking up and down the hallway three times thinking to myself that I want information on the dangers within the Heart of Hogwarts. I’m not sure if it will work without more information so after I finish my third pace along the corridor and I haven’t heard anything, I assume it hasn’t worked - until I turn and see a door not unlike that of a Hogwarts broom closet.

It hadn’t been there before.

I grin and run to it, flinging it open. It is a small room with just enough room to step into and close the door behind me and a handful of shelves.

Eye height with me is three books. I know with just a quick look at the titles that they are all immensely complex books on the topic of long-term curses.

Well, I don’t understand them whatsoever and though I had sort of expected something complicated, I am still a little put out that I don’t understand multiple words in just the first sentence of the first book I pick up. I wish to myself that I had more books to understand these, and suddenly a chilling set of five appear beside the first three.

The Beginners Guide to True Magic by Rowle Lestrange, someone I know full well was a Dark Wizard in his time, followed by An Introduction to Cursing your Enemies by Theodoric the Mad, who had also been a Dark Wizard. The last one is the most scary though, almost stopping my heart before it suddenly picks up in fear.

The third book is How to Sacrifice for Maximum Gain by Lord Gaunt. I take it with nervous fingers and open to the content page. Whatever this curse is, it’s powerful, permanent and was created with sacrificial magic. I’m happy to say I understand this book at least, even if that is a dubious sort of glee. The content, though, what it talks of, is horrifying and disgusting.

The curse, to offer such an array of vile books, must be exceptionally evil. I don’t know the author Gaunt but I assume with the others lined up besides it, this could not have been written by a very good person.

Not knowing what to do with them, but feeling an acute sort of panic as the implications of being caught with them rolls through my mind, my feeling changes from horrified happiness at having found what I need, to absolute petrification. I do not ever want to be caught with these books. I would get in a lot of trouble and it would ruin everything I’ve done so far. Not only that, but I don’t want any other child to find them.

Anyone can find me here, simply open this new door they’ve not seen before and find me standing with How to Sacrifice for Maximum Gain in my hands. My breath catches in my throat as I try to think as logically as I can but it’s practically impossible when I can’t control my body’s panic.

I can’t leave these here for someone else to find and I can’t leave with the books for fear of them being found in my posession. I have no true options.

That isn’t true though, which I realise with a rush. I immediately look at the book in my hands and command, ‘Devour.’

The book disappears and I lower my hands with repugnance etched on my face. I turn and Devour the other two lower skill books, feeling their knowledge and information absorbing into my mind. I wince with each Devouring as The Game works its strange magic.

I don’t like these Skills.

Dark Arts, supplemented with the subtype of Dark Curses and Dark Rituals, are new Skills, all at Level 5. It’s all vile. All but one ritual, which can be used to make crops grow better by the sacrifice of any living thing, which is suggested to be a vermin as to not waste livestock, is utterly disgusting. That was the only ritual in all those books that seems like it could be considered in any way grey.

I don’t feel as relieved as I should. In fact, I feel sort of sick. I wish I could hug Mum or have Tala on my shoulders with me. Not only that, but I can feel my adult and child self warring. I have seen and experienced a lot of evil things, but my new self… it utterly hates everything I just learnt. I don’t want to ever use anything I just learnt.

I now have a guess on what the curse is at least. An object, likely powerful, had probably been used in ritual sacrifice to ruin a very specific aspect of the thing it was cursing. I can’t know exactly what that thing is though, as in a castle this big and old, all sorts of curses and rituals could have been performed over the years, all layered upon each other. My mind, however wrongly, goes to the theory I’d been told of the Defence Against the Dark Arts position though. How likely would it be that this curse is actually true? I’d have to research more to know for sure. It did fit with what Professor Allsbrook said he suspects though.

How likely is it that all three of these things are intertwined? The Heart of Hogwarts, Gryffindor’s room and the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. There has to be some connection.

Unsure of how long I’ve been looking at the books and how long it has taken to Devour those three, I ask for the time. Immediately, a little Muggle looking alarm clock appears in front of me. I have half an hour until curfew!

I consider for a moment Devouring the other five books to be rid of them, but can’t make myself do something so disgusting again. Instead, I gathering the five, shrink them and put them in my inside cloak pocket to keep them from wandering eyes. As soon as I have done that, I ask the room for something again. Can you give me a map of the school? Or tell me where to find one?

I don’t receive a copy of Rowena Ravenclaw's map which is disappointing, however expected. I do get a large pile of collars. All different colours, some of them exceptionally dirty, in a pile in front of me next to the Muggle alarm clock.

Incredibly confused, I take one of them that has a tag on it. ‘Mrs Norris, property of Argus Filch,’ it reads.

Wait, didn’t Dumbledore mention someone called Filch at the Feast yesterday? He is the caretaker, with all the rules. I don’t know where his room is though, or where the things he takes are. Unless he is using the map. I’ll have to keep an eye on him and see how it goes. The Room is obviously the room hinting at something to do with him since it hasn’t given me any other information.

Bolstered by the clue, I ask, ‘Is there a way of making a map of Hogwarts?’ A pile of books appear for me.

Six advanced looking books turn up, and a notebook with horrendous handwriting scrawled on the front page. I’ll have to inspect the notes for myself later, but for now I put them all in my pocket once shrunk. I don’t shrink the notebook in case there is any magic on it. Basic safety and all. Under the last book I find a little pamphlet stating, “The Greatest Map is in the Mind of the Creator.”

Ah yes, a riddle. How very… Ravenclaw. I shouldn’t expect any less of her room.

Until tomorrow at the earliest, I do have Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. The questions I have to write on are on the subjects of Vampires, protection from magic fires, and Boggarts. Since I am here and I want to test my thoughts from the library, I ask the room for books on levitation charms.

Not many books show up, so I can only assume the Room does not take books from the library as I know there would have to be more than just four in the entirety of the school. As it is, I at least have these four that are offered by the room.

The Tome of Charms and Levitation - The Guide are the first books. I flick through them quickly, mindful of the time. They are lists, almost like a dictionary, of charms. I shrink and put them in my pocket. The other two are in different languages, so although they must be on my subject, they aren’t something I can learn from. I leave them where they are.

‘Can you now show me books on Vampires?’

Not a moment later, at least twenty books are in front of me, all on Vampires. One of them looks clawed, which is somewhat concerning.

Biting my lip, I look them over until I see a title stating it is for beginners and grab it quickly. Then I think to the Room for books on Boggarts, and now dozens of books suddenly appear on the shelves above me, over fifty or more. I was not expecting that many books on Boggarts. ‘What is a beginners level introductory book to Boggarts specifically?’ I think, and they all vanish but two. One simply named Boggarts in an old font and no author, and another being a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newton Scamander.

They are quickly put into my arms. Finally, I ask the room for books on magic fires. I quickly regret that when books as Dark as the ones on rituals show up, and I specify for books on protection against magic fires. That leaves three which I quickly put on my pile before thanking the room with a mental thought and closing the door. It fades away instantly.

Proud but also worrying I will be late to curfew, I put my books down, shrink them quickly and put them in my pockets. In my haste, they are a little bigger than the first books had been, but they all fit just fine. I have to run to the stairs and it is only by luck or fate that the moving stairs move at the last moment to put me on the corridor to the fifth floor entry of Ravenclaw Common Room. Thank the gods. I really need to learn where the seventh floor entrance is!

I stand in front of the eagle statue and ask it, “What’s the word on the wing?”

It looks at me beadily, as if judging me for being minutes before curfew. “I can be long and can be short, I can be black, white, brown or purple. You can find me the world over and I am often the main event. What am I?”

I go to answer, then my breath catches as I realise I’m not certain. I think about it for a few seconds and then the answer comes to me like a light bulb. “Rice!”

The statue moves aside and I step in, grinning madly.

The Common Room has people crowded in it, games in full swing and book recommendations flying between students. I could laugh, I am so exhilarated.

Of course, that would look strange, so instead I smother my grin as much as possible and go directly down to my dorm. I still haven’t seen the Ravenclaw Library yet which is a shame, but I have homework to write and books to hide. I hop down the stairs quickly, jumping out of the way of older students. I receive a shock when I see that a lot of the older students don’t close their doors. The staircase is joint after all, but split at each floor into girls and boys so one room does not face another - or rather, no girls room faces a boys room. So the girls were openly changing with their room doors open, chatting between each other, no shame at all.

I had again been sheltered from any type of nudity for the last almost eight years of being in this body. It makes a blush crawl up my face and I make sure to stare at the ground as I finish my journey.

I mean, I do change openly myself, but I close the door. I suppose this is just the natural effect of living together for years.

When I make it to my dorm room, I am thankful to find it empty. The first thing I do is pull out the books from my inside pockets, pull out my trunk, unshrink them and push them to the wall behind my trunk. They’ll be safe there, and no one should notice. When the trunk is pressed against them, it leaves only a centimetre sticking out. It is likely noticeable… but not too noticeable. Surely First Years, and students at large, don’t push their trunks in correctly, or have things fall out the back. It will be fine.

The other books I’m not so concerned about as they aren’t Dark after all. I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and get a quick shower, hurry back to my dorm in my towel and get into my pyjamas for the night. From the clock above the bathroom I know it’s half nine, so I only have half an hour until lights out and Sarah is in the room. I do quite badly want to begin reading up on some of my new books, but in the end I decide to let that wait.

I sit at my desk, pull out a quill and write letters to my family.

I am just finishing the last letter I need to write, a letter to Grandma and Grandpa, when Sarah opens our door. The door nearly hits the back of my chair but thankfully doesn’t, and Sarah walks in with a sigh, not noticing me.

“Hi,” I say.

She squeaks frightenedly and swivels to see me. “Aubrey!” She gasps. “I didn’t think you were here!”

I shrug. “It’s okay, I was just writing to my family. I’m just about done now.”

She nods. “Cool. I sent one to my parents earlier. We went to the Owlery together. I can take you there tomorrow at lunch if you like?”

I smile at her. “That would be great!”

She smiles back. “Awesome! Sure. We’ll see each other in the Great Hall.”

I nod and get up, leaving my letters to dry. I get in bed and lie against the headboard with my book on Vampires, my notebook and a Muggle pen. It takes a moment to realise Sarah is standing watching me.

She instantly talks when she sees me looking. She’s standing in a towel, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Um, do you mind closing your curtain while I-”

“Sure!” I say quickly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

She thanks me as I close my curtains and cast Lumos. I hear her shuffling as I begin reading, making notes as I go. After a few minutes, Sarah tells me she is ready and I open my curtains halfway to see she has settled on her bed much like me to read one of her textbooks.

Quietly, the two of us spend the next few minutes reading until lights out at ten. Then, we close our curtains, likely to both read for a few more hours by the lights of our wands.

.*****.

I wake at six once more the next day and immediately get ready before finishing the book on Vampires. They are an interesting creature, for sure, and it doesn’t take me more than five minutes to write two inches on them. I also have far more knowledge on them now, which I like - who knows what lurks in the Forbidden Forest?

That done, I stretch in my desk chair and silently stare at the wall, not wanting to wake Sarah. For something to do, I start Observing random things in the room to up the Skill, and then Observe the Vampires book for fun.

Legends of Vampires and Their Weaknesses

Adept level book on Self Defense against Vampires and like creatures

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This Skill Book focuses on for DADA, Charms and Rituals

Utterly boring. The book goes into my trunk, since a look through it shows it’s not owned at all by the school. Technically, it’s finders keepers. I pull up my notifications and Quests to look over. There is one new one.

Skill Level increase!

Transfiguration - Level 13

Charms - Level 13

DADA - Level 14

Observation - Level 35
+60 xp total

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Quest Alert -

Why Wait?

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Objective -

Learn three Summoning or Banishing charms before the end of the school year

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Rewards -

+1500 xp

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Failure -

-300 xp

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Would you like to review your Stats now?

Yes

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No

I say ‘No’ and the words disappear as Sarah groans from behind her curtains. I decide I’ll go up to breakfast with Sarah and begin reading the Boggarts section from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in the meantime. There isn’t much on them in this book so it won’t take long.

During breakfast, I look around the room slowly, Observing every little thing and every person I can see. Names begin appearing above heads and I hear as my Observation Skill Levels Up. Grinding for Levels is sort of fun, if not slightly monotonous.

Thankfully, my first class of the day will likely be far more fun as it’s Flying with the Gyffindors.

The walk outside is filled with so much excitement we are all grinning, even the students who claim to be scared of flying. I spot Cormac in a group of Gryffindors and shoot him a smile. He doesn’t seem to see me as he’s so deep in loud boasting about how much he loves Quidditch.

“I’ve been flying all summer!” He says loudly. “I want to be on the Quidditch team in Second Year.”

“They never let Second Year’s play,” one of the Gryffindor boys with him says.

“Yeah, but I’m seriously good. Just you wait, I bet one day I’ll be scouted.”

I shake my head as we leave the castle, while others join in on how well they can fly. Several Ravenclaws are just as passionate as Cormac. As we walk out onto the designated field, I spot who must be our teacher. A sixty-something year old man, sitting on a crate with brooms spread around the field. The man, when I look more closely, has a weathered face, a thick tan and a wiry build.

“Good morning, class!” His surprisingly high, squeaky voice says. He sounds perpetually excited. “My name is Instructor Roc. Everyone pick a broom! Today, we’re learning the basics. How to summon, hold, mount and dismount the brooms. Then I’m going to hold a lecture on the dangers of flying. There will be no actual flying today, sadly. If any of you try, I’ll have you failed for this semester of flying courses and you will not be allowed to participate for the rest of the year. This is a very serious thing, okay? Let’s all have a good first lesson,” he says, lowering the pitch of his voice a bit in an attempt to sound tough, but it comes off even more silly than before.

“Yes, sir,” a few grumble as we drop out bags and cloaks and make our way over to brooms. I quietly Observe a few of the brooms, trying to figure out which one is the best based on how new it is and its ‘quality’ rating, before settling on one.

I suspect we’re not to fly these because most of them aren’t fit for flying above five to ten feet from the ground. Or maybe that’s purposeful, because we’re eleven. A few would be capable of going further though.

“Wonderful!” He cheers, sweeping around to check we’re all in place. “Now, summoning a broom is the easiest part of this. It’s all about intention. You need to want the broom to come to you. It usually helps if you verbalise the desire, like you would for a spell. Commonly, people use ‘Up’ or ‘Come’ as their words. If you have some other word you’d like to use, feel free!”

He walks around, adjusting a few postures and such as we attempt to call our brooms. Mine jumps to my waiting hand instantly, with a whispered “Here!” to the broom. It takes nearly ten minutes, but we all get our brooms, much to his delight.

“Great! Now, hold your brooms like this-” Instructor Roc pauses to show us how he’s holding it with one hand “-and I’ll come around and adjust your grips. It’s important none of the bristles, this part of the broom here see, touch the grass!”

Hearing that, I adjust my grip on my broom lower than I think I need to, just to make sure the broom is level and the bristles don’t dip towards the grass. It’s hard when the broom is bigger than me and I’ve been holding it up for a long time.

He adjusts me on the handle a couple inches back to how I was, but other than that seems to like my form, considering he spends much longer on a few others, even a couple who summoned their broom really easily. It is hard to hold the broom out like this, but I try my best.

“There we are,” he squeaks airly, looking around at all of us. Finally, he nods once.

We’ve been in class for about thirty minutes to get to this point.

“Now, lower your broom so that you can easily mount it. Remember, keep it off the ground!” He commands gently and even with his simple instruction it still takes ages for all the others to get right. Hilariously, Cormac trips on his shoelace and topples over his broom, smashing in against the ground and breaking the bristles. People start laughing at him. I glare at them despite how comedic it had been.

“No matter,” Instructor Roc says, helping him stand. “Grab another, and do your shoes up.” I see Cormac is bright red and looks at no one as he gets his new broom. “Now!” The professor continues, marching back and forth in front of all of us, where we’ve formed an aisle in front of him. “Mount your broom like you would a horse, if you’ve done that, or if you’ve flown before, as you would normally. Just swing your leg over the broom! In the same motion, put your dominant hand in front of your other hand and keep it there. Leave both feet firmly on the ground when you are mounted, and do not take them off! Mounting the broom correctly is the most vital part of flying, don’t you know, and you won’t be able to steer correctly if your grip is incorrect!”

This instruction, like the others, takes a long time. I use the time to Observe what I can see outside, including Cormac’s friends.

By the time everyone’s grips have been corrected, there’s only fifteen minutes left of class. The instructor tells us he will have to give his safety lecture next week and tells us to put our brooms away, which means we have to trek to a cupboard five minutes away. He ends up standing in front of the cupboard for ten minutes trying to cram his lecture in anyway.

One particular Muggleborn compares it to bikes as we walk to Herbology. Kids get training wheels and teens don’t, much like how a child's training broom has safety features real brooms do not have. The loss of training wheels usually results in injuries, though if the child is careful, it’s nothing serious.

But seriously, what a boring first Flying class. I don’t think I’ll like this class. And these lessons go on until the end of Fifth Year!

Herbology is next - something I expect will be hands on with a brief lecture, since it is in essence magical gardening. We get to class early as it isn’t far to walk from the broom cupboard, and Professor Sprout brings us into Greenhouse One early to get going.

The Hufflepuffs literally run to the greenhouses some ten minutes later after we have already removed our bags and cloaks and left them by the door. They seem exceptionally excited to be taught by their Head of House.

As I settle at a workstation Professor Sprout has prepared for us, the lesson begins. “Alright class!” Her voice cuts through the happy chatter cleanly. “Today I’ll be teaching you about Asphodels and how to harvest them!” Pots of little flowers are handed out to us. I Observe it as she explains how to get the most out of the plant's magical properties without killing it.

Asphodel

Rank 1 Potions Ingredient

Health - Full

Magic Level - Low

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This is a young Asphodel. It is one which was born and bred in this realm of reality, not having any of the mythological connotations a Greek Asphodel may have. It is in no way dangerous, unlike it’s Greek counterparts

Not long into the lesson, I decide that Herbology, though it is rather dull, is useful work. Interesting even! At least in theory. I don’t much like the dirt.

Then she gives us older, more sickly looking Asphodels and teaches us how to completely render them for optimal ingredient gain. This is notably harder, takes more time and helps me in Levelling Up Herbology. I honestly feel that I’ve learnt a lot in this particular class.

“We’ll go over this again in two weeks, for the remainder of the time we’ll study the flower and how we can do better than we did today. Great work everyone!” She says proudly, even though some had failed quite spectacularly - including myself. Partway through the roots I had completely ruined an entire section with a poor cut. Still, she seemed genuinely pleased with our performances.

Herbology is a solid class in my book. If not for the muddy content, then for Professor Sprout herself!

.*****.

Lunch is ordinary, quiet and delicious. Well, I am quiet and not spoken to, the room is not at all quiet. I have a cream cheese and cucumber sandwich paired with fruit before Sarah is ready to go. Then I’m off to the owlery to drop off some letters home, among other mail, like requesting mail-order forms and such from various shops.

We quickly find our way out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds so we can cut across to the Owlery. As we walk across the lawn, I spot the Weasley twins, who are very easy to notice, messing with some statue. I ignore them and climb the steps into the Owlery, Sarah on my tail, telling me about something to do with her parents’ work.

As we walk, Sarah is clutching her next letter home.

“I love the owls, but sometimes they bite my fingers,” Sarah tells me, looking a little nervous. “Professor McGonagall came to my house with my letter. I didn’t see owls until we went to Diagon Alley.”

I nod as we enter the Owlery proper. There’s a few other students here, including fellow First Year Muirin Mathuana. She utterly ignores us as she heads for the stairs, her own owl tearing off.

I raise my arm and Girly swoops down, lands on me and clicks her beak happily.

Sarah watches as I put my family's letters, rolled up and tied together, onto Girly’s leg.

“I’ve never done that before,” she tells me.

“Tied a letter to an owl? Here, I’ll show you,” I say, holding out my arm. A Hogwarts Tawny owl lands on me and I take one of my shop letters and roll it up, tie twine around it, then loop it around the owl’s leg and make another tie, making sure to not cut off its blood supply. “There.”

She nods and calls down an owl of her own and I help her with tying it up, and then we both tie the rest of my letters to different owls. They all fly away happily. Sarah waves to the owls as we go and we talk about our classes so far on our way to History.

I am able to find a bench near our History classroom after, to finish reading the Fantastic Beasts book and move onto Boggarts. Sarah doesn’t seem to mind, mingling with others as soon as she gets the chance,

It doesn’t take long until it’s time to go into the classroom. I sit, as I prefer, away from the windows and near to the front.

The ghost introduces himself to the class at twelve forty-five on the dot as Professor Binns. He’s pasty white, a very thin man who’d obviously been incredibly elderly and frail when he died, wearing the old set of wizarding robes he’d died in. He rattles off the attendance list in monotone. Everyone is present.

Then, he opens his book and starts reading from the book, word for word, from page one. Including the table of contents. He is worse than a badly spelled Read to Me charm. I can read this to myself so much better.

I shake my head and turn my eyes down to my book, tuning him out entirely. I’ve already made history notes from this book in good detail, all but the last few chapters, so I continue with the project. I’ll cross-reference it with the curriculum when I’m able to ask for one, to make sure I only share specific O.W.L. worthy notes with my friends.

After about ten minutes, even though I am angry this is the teacher I am meant to learn from, I’m also able to halfway enjoy his voice. It’s like white noise, a quiet, constant background to help me stay on task.

By the end of period four with Professor Binns, everyone but myself and Rivers is asleep. He, too, is reading his own book. I think it’s a newer edition of the text that the teacher is reading from, judging by the binding. I’ll need to get a copy.

There is a clock in this classroom, so I know that there is only five minutes left of class and I’ve just finished my chapter notes. Only two more chapters to go. Once more I Observe everyone and everything new I can, not looking at the profiles.

When it is finally the end of class, I slam my book closed, jolting everyone awake. “Class is over,” I tell them. “Ravenclaw’s have Potions.”

They scramble to their feet, a couple of girls checking themselves with a pocket mirror someone had brought. Moments later, a Ravenclaw girl, Eleanor, shrieks as she realises she has smudged ink all over her forehead. She runs out of the room to find a bathroom.

Maybe they’ll not fall asleep next time?

.*****.

As we walk down to Potions together, I hear Sarah say she is scared from behind me.

“Why?” I ask, turning my head to her.

She gives me a shocked look. “Haven’t you heard? Some Third Years were talking to Eddie, Marcus and Josh at lunch and they said that Professor Snape makes First Years cry in nearly every class he has with them.”

I frown and fall in besides Sarah and Heather, who Sarah seems to spend a lot of time with. I’m pretty sure she sleeps in the room across from us. “Why is he so mean?”

Heather gives me a sharp look. “Professor Snape was a Death Eater, all the way back when he was in Hogwarts himself. He’s Dark. My dad hates him.”

This is the first I’ve heard about this and it doesn’t make me too comfortable. “Well, why is he teaching here then? Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t let a Death Eater around kids.”

Heather flips her hair over her shoulder as more people look to her for the answer. “Because he was a spy. At least, Dumbledore says so.”

“Wait, if he was a spy, is he a Death Eater or not?” I query, genuinely confused.

“My dad says he was a Death Eater first and then became a spy when he realised he’d die if he stayed with You-Know-Who, because he’s a coward and can only make potions. He says he probably isn’t good at magic,” Heather says. “He didn’t go to Azkaban with the other Death Eaters because Dumbledore kept him out.”

Questions about what Death Eaters and who You-Know-Who is start being asked by Muggleborns and sheltered kids. I don’t know exactly what to feel about Professor Snape but I decide for now I will see how this class goes and go from there. My thoughts stray to Harry Potter and how strange it will be for him to live in a castle with a former follower of his parents' murderer.

We arrive five minutes early. I will be a model student. Take notes, arrive early and answer every second or third question if allowed. Not all of them or I’ll become annoying. It’s an art, it seems. Though if he is just going to be picking on us anyway, there may be nothing I can do. At the very least, this is my plan.

Professor Snape comes out to greet us, or stare us down, and we file inside in an orderly fashion. The moment the last person is in the room, the door slams shut violently. Professor Snape as good as glides to the front of the room, cloak snapping behind him. He waves his hand at the board, revealing brewing instructions.

“I have no time for fools or time wasters, so instead of telling you how to do everything, I’ve put the instructions on the board to see if any of you have an ounce of promise. Brewing is a delicate art, and I shall not be coddling you. I’ve had the Elves bring your ingredients, they’re in the cupboard to my right.” He waves at a cupboard and it opens slowly. For a moment I thought it was going to slam, which would have been bad. It could disturb the ingredients. “Some of you I’ve been told have interest and talent.” He leers at me and a few others before he goes back to looking like he'd just been greatly insulted. “Prove it. Your time is running out.”

The whole class runs to the cupboard while I set up my station, roll up my sleeves and wash my hands. After the surge, half of my personal ingredients have been spilt onto each other and are, because of that, contaminated from all the fuss. One of the most important parts of brewing is to keep everything sanitary and uncontaminated! Now I have to clean my things.

Disgusted, I take my things to the sink and wash them off carefully and appropriately with a damp cloth. When I’m done with that, I put them back in the cupboard before taking what I need to my station and begin. I’m not the first to start, but I certainly feel confident. We’re doing a basic potion, though not the most basic in my opinion, a cure for boils.

I read the board.

“Brewing instructions:

1. Add 6 snake fangs to the mortar.

2. Crush into a fine powder using the pestle.

3. Add 4 measures of the crushed fangs to your cauldron.

4. Heat the mixture to 250 for 10 seconds.

5. Wave your wand.

6. Leave to brew and return in 33-45 minutes.

7. Add 4 horned slugs to your cauldron.

8. Take the cauldron off the fire before adding the next ingredient.

9. Add 2 porcupine quills to your cauldron.

10. Stir 5 times, clockwise.

11. Wave your wand to complete the potion.

I notice instantly that these instructions are different to those in the textbook. I check it to see what Professor Snape has changed.

“1) Add crushed snake fangs to your cauldron and stir.

2) Slice your Pungous Onions finely and place in cauldron, then heat the mixture.

3) Add dried nettles.

4) Add a dash of Flobberworm Mucus and stir vigorously.

5) Add a sprinkle of powdered ginger root and stir vigorously again.

6) Add pickled Shrake spines.

7) Stir gently, so as not to overexcite the Shrake spines.

8) Add a glug of stewed horned slugs.

9) Add porcupine quills.

10) Finally, wave your wand over the cauldron to finish the potion.”

No doubt they are Professor Snape’s personal improvements to the potion. It’s not only simpler, but also probably more effective. Hopefully. I write them into the margin of my book next to the normal instructions.

Exactly forty minutes later - due to the room being hotter and so heating the cauldron from all sides, thus speeding up the sitting time the potion needed - I am finished. It looks exactly like the picture in the book but to be sure, I Observe it.

Cure for Boils

Potion

Quality - Outstanding

Freshness - Fresh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a basic cure for boils. It cures magical and non-magical boils from any cause

Wonderful! I get some into a vial and turn in my sample. Snape looks it over. Then me, then the potion again.

It is perfect, obviously.

He nods slightly before he goes back to scowling. “Go and collect six more vials of this from your batch. Keep one for your personal use, as no doubt you’ll need it in time, and give me four. Jensen will need one in a few seconds,” he says.

I turn my head to see the student he’s looking at. At that same moment, Joshua Jensen from my own House puts the porcupine quills in while his cauldron is still on the fire. It explodes, invariably coating the potioneer, giving him boils.

I sigh.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and hear the splash of a second cauldron going off. I’ll collect two lots for the students now then, I suppose. Joshua and the girls next to him, who had been splattered by the potion, begin to cry.

Ten minutes after the first cauldron went off, others do as well. Three students lost track of time and their cauldrons explode their potions, so Professor Snape has me make a second batch just to be sure there is enough “decent” potion on hand if “any more dunderheads blow up more cauldrons”.

I ask him how to increase the quantity of what I am making for “maximum efficiency to stay ahead of the coming mistakes.” He smirks and tells me to double everything except the heat and to let it brew for five minutes and thirty seconds more.

The increased heat of the room again helps the waiting period go by far faster so only fifty minutes later, he gets his large batch of twelve potions. He takes them and places them on his desk for distribution and then looks at me. “No homework. You are dismissed,” he says to me specifically.

I nod and go to my things as he rises to address the class, who have to read the chapter carefully and then re-make their potions. That isn’t their homework, they just aren’t allowed to leave until they have produced a good Boils Cure. I suppose this is a detention of sorts. Honestly, if all his detentions are time to remake mistake potions, they are my favourite kind of punishments. It is time for actually fixing mistakes, after all. Nothing is better than that.

I can’t say I enjoyed his comment of needing the boil potion for myself, but considering how he had seemed to warm up to me after I made him the second batch of the potion, I am willing to see if he is nicer next time. He wasn’t outright mean at least. I don’t even feel like crying! Everyone who did cry were mostly just embarrassed by the boils they ended up with, the potion is instantly cool to the skin even when ruined so they didn’t get burnt.

The stories of him being a Death Eater still haven’t left my mind, but I’ll have to think about whether I believe he is truly Dark or not later.

I gather my things together, cleaning my cauldron down in the sink as Professor Snape allows another student, a Slytherin, to do the same. I glance at her and see the name above her head is Muirin, the same as I had seen in the Owlery earlier. Her potion must have also been perfect. Just as we are both putting the last of our things away, Professor Snape addresses the class.

“Those of you who remain will owe me twelve inches on the process of the Boil Cure potion and how it can be improved. Also, you owe me six more inches for every time your cauldron exploded. I want you to use those six inches to tell me what went wrong and how to avoid it going forward.” I hear his voice distantly at the end as I walk away.

The tiny form of Muirin stays next to me as we go down the hall towards the stairs.

“So, how’d you get so good?” She asks.

I blink in surprise, not expecting her to talk. “Reading, practice and innate skill,” I tell her. She nods. “You?”

“Tutoring. I’m expected to be good at everything, so I was taught potioneering from a young age. Most girls from old families are taught that way. That way we can be useful wives and bartering chips down the line for the patriarchs,” she says simply.

I wince and mentally reel as though slapped. “So you’re being made into the perfect wife for some lordling? That’s barbaric. The whole concept of arranged marriages is gross as well, and this has the same icky feeling to it.” She doesn’t respond, which is as good as agreeing in my mind. She doesn’t look angry when I glance at her. She just seems sad. “My mother has done and said some things that make me suspect she’d prefer I was more feminine and girly, but I’m not interested. I’d be happy if I never get married.”

She nods at that. “Maybe you’ll change your mind on never getting married,” she says rather logically for an eleven year old, “but I understand. I don’t want an arranged marriage, not to someone older than me and not to someone younger. And boys our age, well, last night the boys were playing truth or dare and revealed to the full Slytherin Common Room they don’t always wash their hands after using the bathroom.” She grimaces dramatically. “But, I mean, if they aren’t meant to be married by women, what were men put on earth for?”

The way she phrased that makes me laugh. “Gathering and hunting in ye olden times?”

“Women can do it better,” she says easily. “At any rate, I don’t care about all those mushy feelings. Who cares who’s cute or not? It’s all so stupid.”

I grin at her, hoping to appeal to some sense of humour. “I like your way of thinking.”

She shrugs, but I think I see a hint of a smile on her lips. “See you around, Hawthorne,” and she saunters off, as best a child can, towards the library.

I think I made the beginnings of a friendship without any help at all. I have to restrain myself to not squeal.

.*****.

I go directly to my dorm, intent on finishing as much of Boggarts as I can before dinner. Tomorrow night I will have little time, after all, as I have Astronomy. I get comfortable and lounge on my bed with my notebook once more.

I am only there for fifteen minutes before it turns six and I leave for dinner. Tonight, I have a lovely curry and rice and stay long enough to have dessert.

When the time comes, I get up and make my way to Professor Allsbrook’s classroom for my meeting with him. As I am leaving the Great Hall, the First Year Slytherin’s and Ravenclaw’s come in, looking tired and hungry. I do at least get a smile from Sarah when I give her a “Hello” as I pass by.

Professor Allsbrook is already waiting when I get to his classroom.

“Early. Good,” he grunts from behind his desk. He leans back and audibly pops a few joints as he stretches. He taps the parchment with his wand, then he taps his quill and the things start moving without him. Noticing my look of interest, he shrugs. “It’s just going to record any questions I ask and your answers. That way I don’t have to pause the test,” he explains, heaving himself out of the chair. “But, little charms aren’t what you’re here for. We’re here to test your practical knowledge, right?”

I nod earnestly. “Yes, sir,” I say in a polite tone.

He bites back a chuckle unsuccessfully. “Speak with confidence. There’s no need to hold back on how loud you are!” He booms with a joyful tone. “I’m half deaf anyways,” he grunts under his breath as he goes to grab what looks like a syllabus list off the desk. He flicks the book open and stands in front of his desk. “To be considered competent, you need to cast nine spells. These nine are the only ones I'm supposed to teach you in First Year to pass the year. Most students don’t master all nine, but that’s due to their proclivity to one type of magic or another. A perfect mark is nine perfect spells.”

He tosses the planner to the side and waves his hand negligently. A thick white line of chalk appears at my feet. That was impressive, as Wandless Magic isn’t easy. I’d know, I’ve learnt a little of it! “I’m going to tell you the name of the spell I want you to cast and you’ll have to cast it on me for me to know how successful you are. Don’t worry about hurting me, I assure you none of the spells have long-lasting effects. Afterwards, you can cast the counter-curse if you know it.”

I nod, happily. “Yes sir!” I say with my chest. I am utterly confident in my ability. I want him to hear and feel that. Defence spells are the thing I spent lots of time this summer practicing!

He folds his hands behind his back. “Wonderful, now, hit me with the Curse of the Bogies, as it’s called.”

I nod and flick my wand. “Mucus ad nauseam,” I encant and, after a second, he firmly sneezes. He nods and I quickly counter it. “Remedium frigus!”

He shivers as it takes effect. “Wonderful! Very good, yes. Now, conjure Red Sparks for me.”

I quickly do. I can do this with just a wave of my wand, though I say it, so he can see I know the incantation. “Vermillious,” I whisper and the sparks go flying, parting around him like water splitting around the bow of a boat.

“Green?” He asks.

I squint in his direction. “Duo or Tria?” I frown back. “They’re both green.”

He raises his eyebrows in thought before deciding. “Both. I’m not going to let them touch me either way.”

I nod. “Duo!” I call, forgoing the full incantation for speed. A shower of green flies and bounces off his shields before flying over to cling to a chest at the back of the room.

“That’s where I store cursed objects for O.W.L. students to practice on. Funny now some magic is attracted to the box,” he muses after looking over his shoulder to watch where the sparks went. He looks back at me with a raised eyebrow. “That was a half-Wordless spell.”

I nod, then continue. Jabbing my wand at him, I grunt the final spell, one which is actually hard to cast because the sparks are more like lightning than the flecks of light I’d summoned the first two times. “Vermillious Tria,” I say at a normal volume, and the green bolts go flying.

I see Professor Allsbrook’s eyes widen a fraction and he physically slaps the bolts into the classroom wall using his bare hands, where they fizzle out. A small blackened stain remains.

“Good!” He calls, glancing at the scorch marks. He waves his wand and casts a quick, “Reparo.” I hadn’t even seen him draw his wand.

“The last few are pretty easy. Lumos, Nox, and the Knockback jinx,” he tells me.

I frown at him. “You said nine spells.”

“You can cast three versions of the sparks. I’m not going to test you on changing the colors when it’s not a skill you rightly need. I am happy with that.”

I nod, understanding his reasoning. I’ll be able to complete these last three spells easily enough. I wave my wand, Wordlessly lightening my wand with a Lumos spell.

“Full Wordless casting,” he says almost mildly.

I Wordlessly Nox the spell. “I can do it with verbal casting if you need me to.”

“No, no. Do them how you like,” he says.

I nod and aim my wand at him. I wait a moment so he can prepare, but he makes no move. “Flipendo!” I call, and the red beam slams into him, sending him back a couple inches into his desk.

“I’m surprised you can move me at all!” He grins, looking at the scuff marks from his shoes on the stone. “Don’t cast that on anyone else, though.”

“Is that all, sir?” I ask, standing straight. That is a compliment by him, I’m fairly sure.

He rolls his shoulder as though trying to get a kink out, then shrugs. “I want to see you try Disarming, Tickling, Body Bind, Softening and the Smokescreen. If you’ve not tried the last, don’t. It can go badly if you’ve not learned it properly.”

I nod and get to casting. They are First Year spells also. In order of simplicity, “Petrificus Totalus!”

For a fraction of a second he goes stiff before shrugging it off. “Good!” He barks at me.

I continue with the counter even though he’s free. “Vincula!”

He nods, accepting the blue beam.

“Spongify!” I call, and the spell hits his chest. He taps it and nods. “Duro!” I counter.

“Very good!” He grins.

I accept the praise with a smile, not expecting it. “Thank you, sir. And, um, sorry?” I immediately cast, “Rictusempra!”

I don’t even get a smile. “I’m not ticklish,” he smirks.

I scowl. “Expelliarmus!” I see his arm twitch and a dagger fly from his boot.

Now he really does start laughing, his voice echoing around the stone room. “Well done! Maybe don’t mention that to anyone. And how about Smokescreen?”

“I’ve never cast it before, sir,” I said, putting my wand away.

“What you’ve shown me is good enough,” he informs me happily, moving with more flow now. He’s obviously become slightly more happy around me now we’ve spent time together. “I’ll definitely make sure to give you personalised homework going forward. You do have to do what I assigned yesterday though.”

I grin madly and thank him.

.*****.

Incredibly pleased with myself, I skip back to the Common Room and down to my dorm. After gathering a few things, I go to the bathroom, happily greeting Rachel Simmons, Lauren Wrenn and Cho Chang who are here already, and get a shower, brush my teeth and go to the toilet. Once finished, I make my way back to my room and get into some comfortable clothes.

Finally able to relax, I breathe deeply. Sarah isn’t here, giving me time alone. I barely care as I am so grateful to finally rest my muscles and lie back. My letters will get to my family at some point tomorrow I expect, and then a day or two after I’ll get something back. I’m looking forward to seeing my parents handwriting. I indulge my body for a minute before I grab Boggarts once more and continue where I left off.

When Sarah makes it back and is in bed reading besides me, at around quarter to ten, I am only pages away from finishing the book. In truth, there is some good meat to the content, but it is bordered on all sides by overly graphic content with horrific pictures of Boggarts themselves switching from fear to fear. I am able to skip over large chunks of text describing how horribly frightened the test subjects had been and move onto actual information I need - no doubt the strange graphicness is the exact reason it had made its way to the Come and Go Room rather than the library.

The biggest issue, I have learnt, is not how hard it is to cast the simple Riddikulus spell, but rather it is difficult for some people to visualise a funny thing to remove even the weakest of Boggarts. For instance, someone re-witnessing something that was incredibly traumatic can be simply too great a feat for some to reimagine in some happy or funny way. You cannot dress up the corpse of a loved one in a funny way, after all. That is what makes Boggarts so dangerous.

It is a sad conclusion to make, but I certainly feel more prepared for the creature. It is something I want to put some practice into. I’ll have to work out my greatest fear rather than allow myself to be caught unawares by some stray Boggart. I have no idea what it is. I’ve witnessed and remember incredibly horrid things, I did things I am ashamed of in my last life. I’ve been made to watch some of the most horrific acts of violence imaginable. I have many fears but I cannot name a singular one greatest fear. A part of me sort of dreads what it’ll be.

Maybe I could ask Dad to be with me to practice encountering a Boggart for the first time? If I can guarantee my greatest fear isn’t something that would cause any questions, of course.

I skim over the last pages until I can close the book up and get out of bed, putting the book in my trunk and taking the time to write up two inches of information from my pages of notes, studiously not thinking of encountering one of the blasted creatures. It isn’t so hard for me to narrow down the correct information I need. With two minutes to spare, I leave my work on my desk to dry and put my quill away, determined to have a good night’s sleep to prepare for tomorrow.

“Goodnight Sarah,” I say softly.

She turns a page. “Goodnight Aubrey. Have sweet dreams.”

I smile at her before closing my curtain all the way. “You too.”