chapter 12

As we arrived at Hermione's next class, which happened to be charms with Professor Flitwick,Probably going to be learning the Lumos charm today.

I noticed Harry and Ron catching up behind us. Ron shot me another glare, but I ignored him. I wasn't about to let his attitude affect my day.

"See you later, Granger," I said with a nod, not missing the quick glance she threw at Ron as if hoping he'd drop the attitude.

"See you," she replied, offering me a small smile before hurrying into the classroom.

Splitting off, I made my way to my next class— potions with Professor Snape. The Slytherins and Gryffindors shared Potions, which meant I wouldn't be free from Ron and Harry's presence for long only have an hour of free time before the beginning of class. Still, Potions was one class I wasn't eager to experience, Snape may be a brilliant potioneer, but I already know I'm much like Hermione in the subject, only able to follow the book instruction.

As I descended into the dungeons I decided to leasurely walk throughout for the time being taking in the scenery, the air grew cooler and the stone walls seemed to absorb any warmth left over from the castle above. The Potions classroom was located deep in the castle, its cold atmosphere somehow fitting for the subject.

Finding nothing of excitement as I walked throughout the dungeon for the past 45 minutes, I made my way to the potion class, When I entered the classroom, I noticed several Slytherins were already seated, chatting quietly as they waited for class to begin. I took a seat near the middle, setting down my bag and pulling out my Potions textbook, Magical Drafts and Potions. The cover was worn, showing the signs of its second-hand nature, but that didn't bother me.

I glanced around as more students trickled in. Draco Malfoy and his usual companions, Crabbe and Goyle, sat a few seats away, their voices a bit too loud as they spoke about Quidditch and their disdain for Gryffindor. Typical.

Settling into my seat, I decided to read some of the potion text. While enjoying my reading, Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the room, their expressions already tense. As they passed by, Ron threw me another dark look, clearly not over our earlier exchange. Harry, though less hostile, still seemed wary. They took seats at the far end of the room, as far away from me and the other Slytherins as possible.

Before anyone could say much, the door swung open with a dramatic swish of black robes, and Professor Snape entered the room. His dark eyes swept over us, taking in each student in the room as if calculating their worth in a matter of seconds.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," Snape began in a low, silken voice, his tone carrying an air of authority that demanded attention. "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making."

He walked toward the front of the room, his gaze briefly flicking over Harry before moving on. "However, for those select few who possess the predisposition… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

The room was silent, every student hanging on his words. Snape had a way of commanding a room without needing to raise his voice. It was clear that he took his subject seriously, and I respected that. Potions was an art, just one I'm not skilled in.

Snape's gaze finally settled on Harry, and I could see a flicker of something—resentment, maybe—cross his face. The tension between Snape and Harry was palpable, even though Harry hadn't done anything to warrant it. Snape's disdain for Gryffindors, particularly those with a connection to James Potter, was well-known.

"Potter," Snape drawled, "our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden question. He glanced around noticing Hermiones hand in the air, hoping he would decided to move his attention to her, but Snape's icy gaze remained fixed on him.

"I don't know, sir," Harry admitted quietly.

"Clearly," Snape sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Fame isn't everything, is it, Potter?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face flushed with anger. I could tell he wanted to jump in and defend Harry, but he knew better than to speak up in Snape's class.

As Snape moved on with the lesson after 2 more such question even deciding to shoot Hermione down later in the questioning, he continued to direct sharp comments at Harry, clearly intent on making his experience as unpleasant as possible. I kept my head down, focusing on the task at hand. Potions required precision and any second I take of the potion would end in failure.

Today's assignment was to brew a simple Boil-Cure Potion, and I quickly gathered my ingredients, making sure to follow the instructions with care. As I worked, I could hear Snape moving around the room, occasionally pausing to critique a student's technique.

As I added the porcupine quills to my cauldron, I noticed that Harry and Ron were struggling to keep up. Ron had already spilled something on the table, and Harry looked frustrated as his potion turned an alarming shade of orange.

Snape, of course, swooped in at that moment, his voice a cold whisper. "What is this supposed to be, Potter?" he asked, staring into Harry's cauldron with obvious disgust.

Harry muttered something under his breath, but Snape wasn't interested in his excuses. "Clearly, Gryffindor standards have fallen."

He swept away with a flick of his robes, leaving Harry and Ron fuming in their seats. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the whole scene. Snape's favoritism toward Slytherins and his disdain for Gryffindors was well-known, and today he seemed to be living up to every stereotype.

As the class came to an end, I carefully bottled my potion and set it on Snape's desk for inspection. I felt confident in my work—I doubt it's perfect, but the instructions he placed on the board are practically dummy proof if you tried.

As we filed out of the dungeon, Ron shot me yet another glare, as if today's class had somehow been my fault. Harry looked frustrated, clearly upset with how things had gone. I nodded slightly at them as I passed, choosing not to engage this time. There was no point in rubbing salt in the wound.

Instead, I made my way over to Hermione to cheer her up a tad. Snape had quite venomously told her to put her hand down as she was embarrassing herself. Though I honestly think she just wants others to know her efforts so she can make friends. Unfortunately, it didn't work this time and from the looks of it, she isn't talking to Harry and Ron as often anymore.

As we walked in silence for a moment longer, I could feel Hermione still mulling over what had happened in class. Her quiet demeanor wasn't just about Snape's harsh words; it was also about how Harry and Ron had been distant. She was clearly conflicted, and I couldn't help but feel like she needed some perspective.

"Miss Granger," I began softly, not wanting to startle her, "I think you might be overthinking this whole thing with Ron and Harry."

She looked at me, a frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

I gave her a small shrug. "People are simple-minded sometimes. They don't always see the bigger picture, or they misunderstand someone's intentions. It's not really your fault that they're pulling away."

Hermione bit her lip, unsure. "But… it feels like they don't want to talk to me anymore. Like maybe I did something wrong."

I stopped walking for a moment, making sure I had her full attention. "Look, you're smart—no one can deny that. But the thing is, when people don't understand something or someone, they get defensive. You have this way about you, Granger… you're always trying to prove yourself, and I get that. But sometimes, to other people, it can come off as… well, condescending."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

"I'm not saying you mean to be," I clarified. "I know you just want people to see that you're capable. But sometimes, people might think you're an insufferable know-it-all, even if you're just trying to help. They might feel overwhelmed by the way you put yourself forward, especially when they're not as confident in themselves."

Hermione's shoulders slumped again, and I could see the gears turning in her mind as she processed what I was saying. "So… you think that's why Ron and Harry aren't talking to me as much? Because I come off as… too much?"

I nodded slowly. "I think they're just overwhelmed, to be honest. Especially Ron. He's the kind of guy who needs time to figure things out for himself, and when someone—like you—steps in and knows everything right away, it might make him feel a bit insecure."

Hermione frowned deeply, looking hurt. "I didn't mean to make them feel that way."

"I know you didn't," I said quickly. "And I'm not saying you should change who you are. You're brilliant, Granger, and you shouldn't downplay that. But sometimes, you have to be a little more patient with people. Not everyone learns the way you do. Not everyone wants to be told what they're doing wrong right away. Sometimes they just want to figure it out themselves, even if it means making mistakes."

Hermione looked down at her feet, chewing her lip again. "I just… I don't know how to be any other way. I'm not good with people. I don't know how to talk to them."

I smiled softly at her. "You're better than you think, Granger. You care, and that's the most important part. Just… maybe ease up a little. Let them come to you instead of trying to push them to keep up with you. It's not about you dumbing yourself down, but giving them the space to catch up at their own pace."

She looked thoughtful, her brow furrowed as she considered my words. After a long pause, she finally spoke. "I guess I never really thought about it that way. I just always feel like I have to prove myself. Like if I don't, people will think I don't belong here."

I nodded in understanding. "That's not an easy feeling to shake, but you do belong here. You've got more talent than most people at Hogwarts, and that's not going to change. You don't have to prove that to anyone. If they don't see it, that's on them. Also, remember, as of right now, we are all first years—none of us are more than any other first years, probably including myself, with that eidetic memory of yours. Just know, not everything in those books is law. Even in Muggle science, new things are constantly being disproven."

Hermione gave me a small smile, though I could tell she was still processing everything. "Thank you, Greyson. I… I didn't realize how much I might be affecting them. I'll try to take it slower."

"Good," I said, relieved that she seemed to be taking my advice to heart. "And like I said before, if they're acting like idiots, you always have me to hang out with. Don't let the green scare you away. I can even help you understand magic more broadly than just what's in the textbooks."

Hermione chuckled softly. "I'll remember that."

We continued walking toward the courtyard, the atmosphere between us lighter now. I could tell Hermione was feeling a bit better, though I knew it would take some time for her to fully come to terms with what I had said. It wasn't easy to hear that your behavior might be pushing people away, especially when you didn't mean it that way. But Hermione was smart—she'd figure it out.

As we reached the courtyard, I saw Ron and Harry sitting on one of the stone benches, still talking quietly. Ron's face was still red with frustration from Potions, and Harry looked equally irritated—though more at Snape's treatment of him than anything else.

Hermione glanced between me and them, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"You should go talk to them," I said gently. "Clear the air before things get more complicated."

Hermione hesitated, but then she nodded. "Yeah, I probably should."

"Good luck," I added with a grin. "Maybe bring a peace offering—like chocolate frogs."

Hermione laughed softly, the sound more genuine this time. "I'll keep that in mind."

She waved goodbye and made her way over to Harry and Ron, who both looked up as she approached. I watched as she sat down beside them, the three of them exchanging a few words. Harry gave her a small smile, and even Ron's expression seemed to soften slightly as they continued talking.

Satisfied that Hermione would be okay, I turned and made my way back toward the Slytherin common room. It had been a long day already, and we still had more classes ahead. Potions had gone better for me than for the Gryffindors, but I knew that wasn't going to earn me any favors with Ron or Harry. Not that I needed their approval, but it made the school day unnecessarily tense.

The Slytherin common room was quiet when I arrived, with only a few students lounging around the fireplace. I dropped into one of the armchairs, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I took out one of the secondhand books I'd gotten with Tom's notes and pretended to read while lost in my thoughts.

As I stared into the book, my thoughts drifted back to the Philosopher's Stone and the third-floor corridor. Dumbledore's warning during the start-of-term feast echoed in my mind: "The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." It wasn't a coincidence that he had mentioned it so blatantly—it felt like a challenge, a lure for anyone curious or foolish enough to try.

I knew the Stone was being guarded by more than just simple enchantments. There were layers of protection, and Dumbledore had enlisted the help of several professors. But how long would that hold against someone like Voldemort? The only real obstacle Voldemort had had was Fluffy, the three-headed dog. Once he put it to sleep, he cruised through the rest of the defenses. It could have been created intentionally easy so Harry and his friends could skate through, too.

The challenge was figuring out how to navigate the situation without drawing too much attention to myself. I didn't want to be a hero, but I also didn't want the Stone falling into the wrong hands. I'd have to stay alert and figure out how to get involved when the time was right, without putting myself in danger—or giving away too much of what I knew. After all, this is real now, not a book. There's a chance everything could fall apart, and the trio might not even try to stop Voldemort. Hopefully, Dumbledore didn't actually lock the real Stone in there and put a decoy instead.

For now, though, I had to survive the ever-watchful eyes of Ron Weasley, who seemed to hate me with an unnecessarily high degree of intensity. If he could, he would pin every incident around the Stone on me, colluding with Snape, and might even poison Hermione against me. She may be smart, but she's still eleven. Somehow, I had taken Malfoy's place in Ron's eyes—for the time being, at least.

"What a long first day at Hogwarts," I whispered, waiting for lunch to begin, though it wouldn't start for another hour.

(I know it might be weird that he refers to Hermione as Granger when he talks to her, but that will change soon enough. He was taught in etiquette not to call people by their first name unless asked. He also calls Harry and Ron by their last names when talking to them, but he used their first names for Hermione's understanding.)