The Potions Master

The whispers and stares of the other students were a constant companion for Harry and Cheyenne the days following their arrival at Hogwarts; from the moment they left their dormitories, the other pupils would do what they could for a look, from standing on tiptoe to craning their necks to peer around the head of someone else or doing a double take when they passed either Harry, Cheyenne, or both in the corridor. Cheyenne, feeling extremely self-conscious, did her best to concentrate on finding her way around the castle without getting lost. 

Hogwarts contained a total of one hundred and forty-two staircases in a variety of sizes, lengths, and conditions, ranging from, sweeping ones to ones that were narrow and rickety; some that led somewhere completely different on a Friday; some had a step that vanished halfway up that you had to remember to jump. And not to mention all the manner of doors they had to encounter on top of that: doors that wouldn't open unless asked politely or tickled in just the right spot and even faux doors that turned out to be solid walls pretending to be doors. It became a normal sight to see the people in the portraits visiting one another throughout the day and Cheyenne could swear she had seen one of the coats of armor walking around one of the lowers floors when she and Hermione were headed for Potions' class. The way everything inside it moved, Cheyenne began to wonder if the castle wasn't alive itself, like the magic in the air had somehow breathed life into the very walls. 

The ghosts were of some help, once the shock of them gliding out of the walls or a locked door had somewhat worn off; Nearly Headless Nick was always willing to help point new students in the right direction, although Peeves the Poltergeist...was another story. Any students he ran into in the corridors would get wastepaper baskets dropped on their heads, rugs pulled out from under their feet, pelted with bits of chalk, or Peeves sneaking up on them without being seen, grabbing their nose, and screeching, "GOT YOUR CONK!" 

There was only one other person in the castle worse than Peeves, however that was possible: the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron, who somehow managed to get on his bad side their very first morning, were unfortunate enough to find out just how awful he truly was. From what they told Cheyenne later at lunch, he'd found them trying to force their way through a door that, unfortunately, turned out to be the entrance leading to the out-of-bounds third floor corridor. He wouldn't believe them when they told him they were lost, convinced they had been trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when Professor Quirrell happened upon the scene, sparing them the caretaker's wrath. After hearing this story, Cheyenne was rather grateful she'd been able to avoid such a situation since she had found her way to class with Hermione, who was quickly becoming a new friend. 

To many of the students' displeasure, Filch did not work alone; he had an ally in the scrawny, dust-colored creature he called his pet cat, Mrs. Norris. She would patrol the corridors all on her own, spying on students with bulging, lamp-like eyes that were eerily identical to her bad-tempered owner's. If a rule was broken in front of her or a student put a single toe out of line, she would immediately whisk off to Filch, who would appear, wheezing, within seconds. Filch knew the castle's secret passageways better an anyone (well, except for perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop out as suddenly as any of the ghosts. All the students hated him and practically everyone shared the secret ambition of giving Mrs. Norris a good kick. 

The classes themselves had more to them than either Harry or Cheyenne could have expected. It didn't take either of them long to learn that magic required far more than just waving your wand and reciting a couple of funny words. 

On Wednesday nights at midnight, they spent hours studying the night skies through their telescopes, learning the names of various stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they were down in the greenhouses behind the castle studying Herbology, taught by a stout little witch by the name of Professor Sprout, where they learned how to care for an array of strange plants and fungi, and what each could be used for. The most boring class they had to sit through, out of any of the others, was History of Magic, which was really a shame since it was the only subject taught by one of the castle ghosts. Professor Binns had been quite old when he'd fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire, unknowingly leaving his body behind when he awoke the following morning. The whole class was spent with Binns standing at the podium at the front of the class and droning on while students scribbled down names and dates, often accidentally mixing up a few historical figures in the process. 

Their Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand atop a pile of books just to see over his desk. As soon as the class was seated on their first day, he took roll call; when he reached Harry and Cheyenne's names, however, he gave a rather loud squeak, sounding almost like a mouse, and toppled out of sight. 

Professor McGonagall, though, was a bit different; Cheyenne had been right to assume she wasn't a teacher that should be crossed, especially when she gave their class a strict talking-to as soon as they were seated in her class. 

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you all will be learning here at Hogwarts," She said as she stood behind her desk, surveying the students with a stern eye, "I will not tolerate anyone messing around in my class and anyone who does so shall be asked to leave and not come back. You have been warned." 

As a way of demonstrating the power of Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall changed her desk into a pig and then back again while the class looked on, silently impressed by her skill and eager to get started themselves. They would soon learn, however, that they wouldn't be changing the furniture into animals for a long time yet. After taking a slew of complicated notes, each student was given a match and told to turn it into a needle. By the end of their lesson, Hermione and Cheyenne were the only ones who had managed to make any differences to their matches; Professor McGonagall used Hermione's to show the class how it should be done, pointing out how the end had turned silver and pointy while she gave the two girls a rare smile. 

The one class everyone was really looking forward to, however, was Defense Against the Dark Arts, although it wouldn't take the first years long to learn how much of a joke Quirrell's lessons really were. As soon as they walked through the door on their first day, they were assaulted by the strong smell of garlic, which all the older students often said was there to ward off a vampire Quirrell had encountered in Romania, one he was rather afraid was still looking for him. The odd turban he wore, according to Quirrell himself, had been given to him as a gift from an African prince whose village he had rid of a troublesome zombie, although none of the class were quite sure of the validity of the story. Their skepticism was only compounded when Quirrell quickly changed the subject to talk about the weather when Seamus Finnigan eagerly asked to hear how he'd managed to fend off the zombie. It didn't really help Quirrell's case that the students had noticed the funny smell that hung around the turban, which the Weasley twins insisted was stuffed full of garlic so that Quirrell would have protection wherever he went. 

Much to Harry and Cheyenne's relief, it didn't take them long to figure out they were on par with the rest of their class when it came to knowing magic. Many of their classmates came from Muggle and/or non-magical families, much as they did, and hadn't known they were witches and wizards until they got their acceptance letters to Hogwarts the previous summer. There was so much for them all to learn that even Ron, who came from a long line of wizards himself, didn't have much in the way of a head start. 

By the end of their first week, Harry and Ron had managed to get their bearings enough to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost. Cheyenne, who had come down shortly before them with Hermione, looked up from their conversation as the boys joined them at the Gryffindor table. 

"Mornin' Chey." Harry dropped down in the seat across from her and helped himself to some porridge, "So, what have we got today?" he asked Ron as she smiled in greeting. 

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron wrinkled his nose, "Snape's the Head of Slytherin...heard he really favors his own house – guess we'll get to see if it's true today." 

"Wish McGonagall favored us." Harry muttered, poking at his porridge moodily as Cheyenne gave him a small smile. Even though Professor McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor House, it hadn't stopped her from giving their class a huge load of homework the day previous. 

"C'mon, Harry, she isn't that bad, she's just...passionate about her subject." She soothed, knowing how much her best friend disliked homework, magical or not, "Every teacher is different and I'm sure she has our best interests at heart. She could be -" 

"- a lot worse, you know?" Harry finished for her, sighing. Ron gave the two a sharp look, furrowing his brows as Cheyenne shook her head, hiding a smile behind her cup. 

"Blimey it's creepy when the two of you do that. You're not even related...or dating." He muttered as he tore off a piece of bacon with his teeth. Harry and Cheyenne looked at him, then each other and shrugged; they'd been together so long, it wasn't unusual for them to be on the same page, so much so they'd stopped really noticing it themselves...even when their old Muggle classmates or bullies would tease them about it. 

A great clattering and the swoosh of feathers from overhead drew their attention to the ceiling above, where hundreds of owls came streaming into the Great Hall through the rafters to circle the tables, carrying any manner of letters or packages for their owners. It'd been quite a shock their first morning for Harry and Cheyenne to learn this was how the morning mail often arrived, although they'd gotten used to it by now. 

Hedwig and Hermes often came to visit Harry and Cheyenne in the mornings to say hello and steal a bite of food before they flew off to sleep in the owlery with the rest of the schools' owls; Cheyenne had taken to writing to Arabella once a week, telling her about the castle and their classes, asking how her grandmother was faring without her. Arabella reassured her she had things handled at home, and instead asked for more details about how Cheyenne was settling in at school and if she had made any new friends. Today, though, Hedwig was the one who arrived with a note for Harry, which she dropped onto his plate. From what Cheyenne could see, the note was written in a very untidy scrawl, which Harry read aloud to her and Ron. 

Dear Harry and Cheyenne, 

I know the two of you get Friday afternoons off, so would you both like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  

I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. 

Hagrid. 

"Oh, tea sounds lovely. We haven't had the chance to see Hagrid since we arrived." Cheyenne smiled and nodded to Harry to accept the invitation. He borrowed Ron's quill to scribble a quick Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note before he sent it off with Hedwig once more. 

Tea at Hagrid's was at least an upside to their day, especially after how horrible their Potions lesson would turn out to be. 

Harry had told Cheyenne his suspicions about Professor Snape's dislike for him the morning after the start-of-term banquet. Cheyenne had been doubtful Professor Snape would dislike Harry before they'd even met, but by the end of their first lesson with him, they both would realize just how wrong they had been. Snape didn't just dislike Harry –he hated him. 

Unlike most of their other classes, Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons, which were significantly colder than the rest of the castle. Honestly, the cold wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't've been for the creepy pickled animals Snape kept floating in glass jars along the walls. 

Like Flitwick, Snape started the class by taking role call and paused at Harry and Cheyenne's names. 

"Ah, yes," He said in a quietly disconcerting voice, "Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, our new...celebrities." 

Draco Malfoy and his friends stifled audible sniggers behind their hands. Snape finished roll call and then looked up. His eyes were black, just as Hagrid's were, and yet they were somehow vastly different; where Hagrid's eyes were warm and comforting, Snape's were cold, empty, like fathomless dark pits. 

"The goal of these lessons you shall be taking with me, is for you all to learn the subtle science and exact art that is potion making," he began as he set the ledger aside. Although he spoke barely above a whisper, the class was sure to catch every word – just like Professor McGonagall, Snape seemed to have a gift for keeping the class silent without too great an effort. "There will be no foolish wand-waving or incantations in my class, although I can assure you it is magic, just as any other subject taught in this school. I don't expect any of you will ever really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, with its shimmering fumes or the delicate power liquids have as they creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew gory, and even..." He paused, surveying the class, as though for dramatic effect, "put a stopper in death – just so long as you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." 

No one said a word; Harry exchanged a look first with Cheyenne, then Ron, as though none of them were quite sure what to think. Hermione, meanwhile, was perched on the very edge of her seat, leaning forward eagerly, as though determined to start proving she was far from a dunderhead. 

"Potter!" Everyone jumped as Snape snapped his attention to Harry, "If I was to add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would I get?" 

Harry looked taken aback as he glanced at Ron, who looked just as stumped, then Cheyenne, who gave a small, encouraging smile; Hermione's hand was immediately in the air. 

"I...I don't know, sir." Harry finally muttered as he returned his attention to Snape, whose lips curled into a sneer. 

"Tut, tut...fame clearly isn't everything." He hummed, ignoring Hermione completely as his black eyes glided over to Cheyenne, who automatically sat up straighter. 

"Let's see if you can do any better, Power. If I was to ask you to find me a bezoar, where would it be?" 

"A bezoar is a stone that can be taken from the stomach of a goat. It can cure most poisons." She answered promptly. Snape nodded slowly as Hermione let her hand fall to the table, although she didn't move from the edge of her seat, eagerly awaiting the next question. 

"Now, let us see if Potter can redeem himself." Snape returned his cold gaze to Harry, who notched his chin up a little. 

"Can you tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, Potter?" 

Hermione's hand was immediately in the air again, stretched so high she was practically bouncing out of her seat. 

"I-I don't know, sir." Harry replied quietly, "But I think Hermione does and you know Chey does, too...why don't you ask one of them?" 

"He is right, sir." Cheyenne spoke up softly, sitting up straight to meet Snape's gaze again, "It seems a bit unfair to just quiz someone on the first day, not everyone can memorize their school books, especially first years. Not everyone would know asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, or that monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which can also be called aconite..." The only reason Cheyenne remembered any of that was because she'd found the subject of Potion making interesting and easy to memorize; she might not be able to retain everything she read in their school books like Hermione did, but if a subject fascinated her enough, it was easier for Cheyenne to recollect it for herself. 

A brief silence descended over the class as Snape eyed Cheyenne through narrowed eyes. She kept his gaze silently, all too aware of the eyes of the rest of the students looking between them, curious to know what would happen next. 

"Well?" Snape snapped after a moment, finally breaking his gaze from Cheyenne's to sweep it over the rest of the class, "All of you should be copying this down." 

Everyone immediately started rummaging through their bags for their quills and parchment while Snape called over the noise, "As for your cheek, Power, I will be taking a point from Gryffindor House." 

Things only seemed to worsen for the Gryffindors as their lesson continued. Once they'd all taken down their notes, Snape split the class into pairs and had them mix up a simple potion that would cure boils. As they weighed dried nettles and crushed snake fangs, Snape swept about the classroom in his long black cloak, watching and criticizing just about everyone aside from Malfoy, who had quickly become his favorite. He was just calling attention to the perfect way in which Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing noise filled the dungeon, drawing everyone's attention to where Neville and Seamus were working. Neville had managed to mess up so badly that it had left Seamus's cauldron as little more than a twisted, shapeless blob while the potion itself had seeped through onto the stone floor, where it was quickly beginning to spread and burn holes in people's shoes. Immediately, everyone clambered to stand on their stools and the tables to get away from the potion while Neville, who got drenched in it when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils began to spring up on his arms and legs. 

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, clearing away the spilled potion with a wave of his wand, "You added the porcupine quills before you took the cauldron off the fire, didn't you?" 

Neville whimpered as boils began appearing on his nose. 

"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus before he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. 

"You, Potter, you should have told him not to add those quills! Did you think he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, huh? That'll be another point from Gryffindor." 

Cheyenne, who was working at the desk behind Harry and Ron with Hermione, bristled and went to jump to her best friend's defense, but Hermione gripped her arm tight, stopping her before she could open her mouth. Cheyenne frowned at her as Hermione shook her head. 

"Don't try to push your luck, Cheyenne." She murmured under her breath, watching Snape sweep away up the dungeon, "Some of the older students warned me Snape can turn very nasty if you're not careful." 

Cheyenne sighed softly, her temper cooling as she nodded in understanding. 

Harry was very quiet as they were leaving the dungeon an hour later; Cheyenne could tell by the look on his face that what had happened really bothered him. She couldn't quite understand it herself...Snape didn't even know Harry, so she couldn't understand why he would take such an intense dislike to him so quickly... 

"Hey, cheer up, Harry." Ron said as they left the dungeons behind, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George, so neither of you are alone. Hey, do you think I can come and meet Hagrid with you?" 

At five to three, the trio left the castle and crossed the grounds to where Hagrid lived on the edge of the forbidden forest. His house was a small, wooden hut with a large garden out front; a crossbow and pair of galoshes sat outside the front door as they walked up. 

When Harry knocked, they could hear frantic scrabbling inside, accompanied by several deep, booming barks. Hagrid's voice soon followed, calling out over the noise, "Back, Fang – back!" 

The door cracked open, and Hagrid poked his big, hairy face through the gap. 

"Hang on," he smiled apologetically before he looked back over his shoulder, "Back, Fang!" 

Once he had control, Hagrid finally let them inside, although he continued to struggle to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. 

The hut's interior was comprised of a single room. From the ceiling hung several hams and pheasants while a copper kettle boiled on the open fire; in the corner was a massive looking bed made up with a single, patchwork quilt. 

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said as he closed the door and released Fang, who bound straight for Ron and started licking him round the ears. Just like his owner, the boarhound was obviously not as fierce as he looked. 

"Hagrid, this is Ron," Cheyenne introduced as they sat around the table, watching Hagrid pour boiling water into a large teapot and set rock cakes on a plate. 

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid said, taking note of Ron's freckles as he brought over a tray with the teapot, rock cakes, and four teacups, "I've spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." 

The rock cakes Hagrid gave them were shapeless lumps with raisins that nearly broke their teeth, but Harry, Ron, and Cheyenne all pretended to enjoy them for Hagrid's sake as they told him all about their first week at Hogwarts. Fang scooted under the table to lay his head in Cheyenne's lap and drool all over her robes while she scratched him behind the ear. 

When the boys told Hagrid about Filch, they were quite delighted when they heard him call the caretake 'that old git.' 

"An' as fer that cat o' his, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school fer work, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid'a her either – Filch puts her up to it..." 

Harry then told Hagrid about how their lesson with Snape had gone. Like Ron, though, Hagrid told Harry and Cheyenne not to worry too much about it, as Snape rarely liked any of the students he taught. 

"He really seemed to hate Harry, though..." Cheyenne squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly as he nodded quietly in agreement. 

"Rubbish!" Hagrid huffed, "Why would he?" 

Harry and Cheyenne looked silently at one another, neither failing to notice how Hagrid couldn't quite meet either of their gazes when he said that. 

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid turned his attention to Ron now, "I liked him a lot, he was great with animals." 

Cheyenne sighed, sensing that was Hagrid's subtle way of saying he didn't want to talk about this anymore and sipped her tea slowly as she allowed her gaze to wander to the piece of paper Harry had pulled out from under the tea cozy while Ron told Hagrid about Charlie's work with dragons. It looked like a clipping from this morning's Daily Prophet, which read: 

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST 

Investigations concerning the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July continue, although the break-in itself is widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards and witches unknown. 

Today Gringotts goblins are insisting nothing has been taken, as the vault that had been searched had already been emptied earlier that same day.  

"We will not be divulging what was in the vault beforehand, so I would suggest all of you keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," A Gringotts spokesgoblin said this afternoon.  

Harry and Cheyenne looked at one another again, remembering what Ron had told them on the train about someone who had tried to rob Gringotts, although he'd forgotten to mention the exact day. 

"Hagrid!" Harry spoke up to regain the giant's attention, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday, when you took Chey and I to Diagon Alley! It must've been happening while we were still there!" 

This time, it was obvious Hagrid was not comfortable with this subject; he refused to meet Harry or Cheyenne's eyes as he grunted and offered them more rock cakes. Cheyenne took the paper clipping from Harry to look it over again, frowning quietly to herself at the mention of the vault searched having been emptied earlier that very same day. One of the vaults they'd visited had been vault seven hundred and thirteen, in which Hagrid had taken that grubby little package he'd needed to bring here to Hogwarts. Could that package have been what the thieves had been looking for? Perhaps...but then, there had to have been hundreds, if not thousands, of different vaults buried deep under Gringotts... 

Harry, Ron, and Cheyenne left Hagrid's around sunset, when dinner was due to be served, each of their pockets weighed down with the rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse. Cheyenne's mind was awhirl with everything they'd learned over tea. If vault seven hundred and thirteen had been the targeted vault for the thieves, had Hagrid collected the package just in time that day? Cheyenne's eyes swept to the looming shadow of the castle above them as they crossed the lawn toward it, wondering in which of its many hidden passageways and locked chambers the package could be hiding now. Was it safe? Was there something about Snape the gamekeeper wasn't telling them?