First Class

According to my schedule, I only have two classes today. The first is Potions with Gryffindor, then in the afternoon after lunch I have History of Magic with Hufflepuffs. Luckily for me, potions is basically right next to the Slytherin dormitory.

After grabbing my potions book, I decide to head there early and refresh what I read over the summer. No way am I going to try and make something. Potioneering is less magic, and more cooking, so I can't just magic my way through the class.

Can I? No… I'd actually like to learn in the class since it's one of the few that it seems like I won't have a natural advantage in.

Entering the classroom, I see that nobody is here. Not even the teacher. Shrugging my shoulders, I decide to sit at one of the tables scattered around the dark room as I take it in.

Other than the tables, there are also cabinets filled with what I'd guess to be ingredients pushed up against the wall. Some of the things in them are normal, something you would see in a kitchen. Carrots, avocados, bananas, various berries, cheese, etc.

Others are strange, and I'd normally never think to treat them as food. Various bundles of hair, bones, bat wings, a dozen different eyeballs, and porcupine quills are a small variety of the things I see.

I'm kind of tempted to put something random in the cabinets and see if anyone tries to use it for a potion. Maybe some leftovers next time I eat? Something to think on.

Anyways, the only other things in the room are the teacher's large wooden desk, which is covered in various potion making tools, and a couple of doors leading to unknown places.

I don't feel like wandering, so instead I study the potions books. Time passes, and gradually students filter into the room. A couple of Gryffindors I don't know, along with Neville, are the first to come into the room, immediately followed by Pansy and Millicen. Seeing me already here, Pansy sniffs at me before sitting at another table. Millicent follows suit.

They're followed by Tracy, who's laughing with a Slytherin boy. They sit at the table to my right. Hermione comes in next, and seeing that I'm the only one sitting alone, plops herself down next to me. The others in the room stare at her in shock, which she either is unaware of, or ignores.

Instead of talking to me though, she pulls out her own potions book and opens it, refreshing her own knowledge before class starts. I can't help but give a little mental nod to her studious nature.

With only fifteen minutes left until class starts, two Griffindor girls enter, swiftly followed by Harry and that ginger haired boy he met on the train. What was his name again? Ronny? Anyways, the two sit near me, the ginger scowling when he sees me and Hermione sitting at the same table. He looks like he wants to say something, but after glancing at Harry, he simply sits.

The last ones to enter the classroom are Draco and his minions, Crabbe and Goyle. And with Draco, is the teacher. His hooked nose and dark greasy hair stand out even more when he's next to Draco, who's blonde hair is perfectly styled backwards.

Seemingly done with their conversation, Draco and minions sit at the final table, matching the Gryffindors for seating arrangements.

The professor looks around, introducing himself.

"You may call me Professor Snape. Now before we begin, I shall ensure that everybody is present." He takes roll, calling on various students. I learned that the unknown Slytherin boy is named Baise Zabini, and I can't help but think of the Great Houdini.

The unknown Gryffindors are apparently called Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Looking their way, my eyes meet Finnigan's, and something just clicks. We give each other nods of companionship, confusing the rest of the room. But Snape ignores it, continuing with roll.

"Ah, yes," he says softly," Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity." He looks at the next name down and pauses for the briefest moment. "Misha Potter." After ensuring that I'm here as well, he continues. But I notice him glancing in my direction as he finishes roll.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." His voice is quiet, but it has a presence that quiets the room, ensuring that he's heard. "As there is little foolish wand-waving, many of you may doubt that this is magic. I don't expect any of you to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids as they creep through a person's veins. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew gory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I nod along with his words. 'Just the right amount of snark and mystical allurement to ensure that a passion for potions is ignited in at least a few of us. I give it an eight out of ten for opening speeches.'

Suddenly, he shouts. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry and I answer at the same time. "They make a powerful sleeping potion, known as the Draught of the Living Dead."

He scowls at Harry while giving me the side-eye. "I am questioning Mr. Potter, at the moment."

Shrugging, I sit back in my seat, Hermione giving me a thumbs up at my immediate knowledge.

Snape asks another question. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione looks like she really wants to answer, to show Snape that she's not a dunderhead. But since he specified that he wanted Harry to answer, she resists the temptation to put her hand up.

Harry's answer isn't as fast as before, but he answers all the same. "I'd look inside the stomach of a goat. If I recall, it will nullify most poisons."

Snape glares at him. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

This time, Harry pauses for longer, while my eyes narrow fractionally. He scratches his chin. He looks at the ceiling. Then he looks at the professor. "I don't know, sir."

Hearing this, he sneers. "Then perhaps you should have studied more. What of you, Ms. Potter? Do you know the difference?"

I twirl some hair with my finger as I think. But… "Isn't that a trick question? They're the same plant, right?" I'm not too sure, but I did study up on most of the poisonous plants that appeared in the first year potion book.

Snape smiles. "Indeed, that is correct. One point to Slytherin for being more knowledgeable than your twin while being far less famous."

After that little barb, he separates me and Hermione, pairing each of us with someone from the three group tables. This resulted in even pairs for everyone. Hermione was paired with Thomas, while I was paired with Draco.

I was a bit worried about leaving his minions to fend for themselves, but he assured me that they would be fine, so I shrugged it off.

For the class assignment, Snape told us to brew a simple potion to cure boils. While the recipe in the book does seem simple, I do have to wonder how smart it is to have students using the cauldrons on their first day of class. You would think that he would go over safety precautions first, right?

During the process, he swept around the room in his long black cloak, watching and criticizing us. Except for me and Draco, who he seems to like. Though I like to think that the main reason we don't get criticized is because we're doing so well. As we go through the motions, Draco's been telling me about how his father got him a private tutor for each of the classes he needed to take this year.

As he's praising us once again, a hissing sound resounds around the room while clouds of acid green smoke fill the air. Somehow, Neville managed to melt Seamus' cauldron, spilling its contents across the floor, burning holes in people's shoes. The whole class was immediately standing on their stools to avoid it, except for Neville, who'd been drenched in the potion.

He moaned in pain as angry red boils sprung up all over his exposed skin.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarls as he clears the mess with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

The only response he received was Neville's whimpers of pain. After directing Seamus to take him to the hospital wing, Snape deducted a point from Gryffindor. He claimed that Harry was trying to make himself look better by letting Neville fail, which is ridiculous. Nobody else says anything though, so I don't either. Now that we're in a magic school, Harry needs to start standing on his own two feet.