"What do we have now?" Harry asked Ron.
Ron was still looking upset with having to walk with Hermione, but I told him that he would have to suck it up; which earned a glare from Harry. I ignored it gracefully.
It seems everyone was getting used to my clutzy moments. I tripped everywhere I went, sometimes even taking people down with me. I was positive that they were annoyed by my apologies - and, frankly, I was too - but Harry would always glare at me till I expressed my regret.
"Double Potions with -" Ron began, but I cut him off.
"The Slytherins. Yeah, we already know that, Ron."
"Yeah..." Ron said, his lips twitching as though he was struggling to hold back a few choiced words, "but Snape's the Potions professor and he's also Head of the Slytherin House. They say he always favors them. At least we'll be able to see if its true."
"Woohoo," I said in mock enthusiasm.
Ron sent me a dark glare, but didn't say anything.
"Wish Professor McGonagall favored us." Harry said gloomily.
"Why?" I asked. "I think she is doing a splendid job; she's my favorite class!"
"She gave us all that homework." Harry complained, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "It's going to take me all night to finish."
"Without my help it is," I patted his shoulder in comfort. "But I'll help you."
At that moment, owls streamed into the Hall. It was always a wonder to see at least a hundred owls swooping down all at once before spreading out to find their owners; so when I heard the signiture hoots, I looked up to admire them.
Harry and I never got mail - who was going to mail to us, after all? - so imagine my surprise when Hedwig Manded in front of us with a small roll of parchment attached to her leg.
Harry tore it open at once. I leaned over to read it over his shoulder.
Dear Harry and Nixie,
I know you get friday afternoons off, so would you two like to come down and have a cup of tea with me around three?
Hagrid
"Who is it from?" Hermione asked tentatively, as though if she spoke any louder someone might yell at her to leave. That wouldn't really surprise me, remembering Ron's tact.
"Hagrid," I told her. "You know him, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"He's invited us down at his house for tea," Harry informed our friends.
"Can I come?" Ron asked, buttering up his toast carelessly.
"Sure," Harry said, scribbling down a reply. "Would you like to come, Hermione?"
Hermione jolted in shock, and then shook her head hurriedly, glancing quickly at Ron, who pulled a face. "Oh, no, I still have a lot of homwork to do."
"You're coming," I told her. "Tell Hagrid we're bringing two friends, Harry."
Hermione bit her lip as Harry looked at her expectantly. "I... okay, I'll go, if it's not much of a bother to him." Hermione finally said.
"I'm sure it won't be," Harry said, scribbling some more on the parchment. "Hagrid's great."
He rolled up the parchment again and gave it to Hedwig. "Can you take this to Hagrid?" Harry asked her, getting a haughty duh look in reply.
All the way to Potions I informed Hermione about how amazing Hagrid was, and how friendly he had been while telling me I was a witch. I told her that he was a brilliant listener and that I couldn't wait to tell him about my first weak at Hogwarts. This feeling only increased after Potions, because it quickly turned into my least favorite class the second I walked in.
"Ah, yes," Snape sneered as he went through attendance and stopped at Harry's name. "Harry Potter - and Nixie Potter. Two celebrities in one class. How overwhelming." Draco and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered in the back of the class. I made a mental note to get back at Malfoy after class.
After he went through the list, Snape looked up at the class with his cold, lifeless black eyes.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more then a whisper, but we caught every word, "as there is barely any foolish wand waving here - many of you will hardly believe this is magic; I dont expect you will all see the beauty of the soft and simmering cauldren - "
I snorted into my hands and leaned over to whisper in Hermione's ear, "why doesn't he just marry it, the loon." Hermione didn't see the humor in this and gave my ribs a sharp poke with her elbow, making my snicker turn into a grunt of protest.
Professor Snape's eyes snapped towards mine, and I stuck out my chin stubbornly. "Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting a teacher," he said smoothly, before going on like nothing happened. "With its shimmerind fumes, the delicate powder of liquid that runs through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses..."
I smirked and leaned in to Hermione's ear, once again. "Somebody is in love," I said. Hermione reddened as she held back a giggle but tried to look dissaproving at the same time. This time, Professor Snape didn't hear us.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't a bunch of dunder heads which I usually have to teach." I felt a bit smug at how surprised he was going to be when it turned out that I could do whatever potion he threw at me. I leaned forward slightly in my seat to get ready.
"Potter!" Snape suddenly barked at Harry. I turned in my seat to see if he had done anything bad, but he was just sitting there innocently, staring up at the professor in suprise. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of warmwood?" Both mine and Hermione's hands shot straight up in the air. He asked the wrong Potter!
Harry blinked up at the Snape, looking completely stumped. I decided to save him from his embarrassment as Malfoy's sniggers grew louder and more obnoxious.
"Asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion known as the Drought of Living Death, Sir," I spoke up, my hand still in the air.
Snape's ugly face whipped around when he heard my voice and he sneered. "I wasn't aware that I called on you, Ms. Potter," he glowered in a very ugly way. "But as you've already managed to gain the attention you so desire, answer me this: where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoer?"
I thought about it for a moment, before saying, "a bezoer is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."
Snape's upper lip curled disdainfully, "I didn't ask what it was or what it does, Potter. Can you not restrain yourself or do you take pleasure in being an insufferable little know-it-all?"
Both mine and Hermione's mouths dropped open. Harry made to get up and shout furiously but Ron tugged him down, his small face pale and extra freckly. Behind us, as though in a distance, Malfoy and the other Slytherins roared with gleeful laughter and Snape smirked with victory. The Gryffindors shared furious looks at the thought of their fellow housemate getting belittled by their rivals.
"Let's see if you can answer this without showing off, shall we?" Snape drawled to me, making my face redden. "What is the differance, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
I knew the answer - of course I knew the answer, but I was done being interrogated. So I did what I did in my muggle school - I lied my butt off; "I don't know, Sir." I said quietly. QUe more laughter from the Slytherins.
"Tut, tut." Snape said, after the Slytherins settled down. "Clearly fame isn't everything. Did you even think of opening a book this summer, Potter?"
Of course I did. That was all I did during the summer - I read pages and pages of every single textbook I bought at Diagon Ally and I made sure every detail was mesmerized. Next to me, Harry clenched his fists and said cooly, "Obviously, she did, or she wouldn't have known the other questions. Maybe you should try questioning some other students."
Harry's blalant show of bravery gave him so appreciative looks from his housemates, but a wicked sneer from Snape. "Take another five points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a teacher," he said swiftly.
Harry opened his mouth angrily to say more but Ron kicked him under the table and hissed, "ssh, I hear he can get really nasty when provoked."
Things didn't improve at all as the class progressed, but at least I wasn't the center of attention, though I did here people still talking about what happened. Snape didn't put himself up in a good light according to the Gryffindors. He put us into pairs and told us to brew a simple potion for curing boils.
Hermione instantly started to talk to me, comforting me about what happened and saying frazes that were being repeated around the room like "that was completely unfair" and "the Headmaster should really talk to him about the way he speaks to students."
I let her talk. After all, she was personally hurt also because she had been completely ignored the whole time by Snape as her hand was raised - and she was scarred for life at seeing a teacher acting like a bully.
Snape swept around in his long, black cloak; watching us weigh nettles and crush snake fangs, critisizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just about to tell everybody to look at the perfect way Malfoy stewed his horned slugs when acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the class. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seames's couldren into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping through the class floor, burning wholes in peoples shoes. In the end of the class, everyone was standing on our stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion, was moaning in pain as angry red boils covered his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, as he cleared the potion with a simple wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the couldron off the fire!" Neville whimpered as boils started to pop on his nose.
"Take him up to the Hospital Wing," he snapped at Seamus, then he whirled around and faced Hermione and I, who had been working next to Neville. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Thats another point you lost for Gryffindor."
"No, Snape!" I snapped, my eyesight burning red as I imagined all the horrible stuff I'd like to do to Snape right then and there. A voice in my head was telling me to calm down, but no matter how much it told me to, I couldn't listen. "You told me to work with Hermione - and if you didn't notice - I was trying to make sure our potion didn't explode and burn us! If you weren't too busy picking favorites with Malfoy, you would have been able to tell Neville not to add that quill!" I would have continued - and I wanted to, because the little red monster in my brain was encouraging me to, but Hermione kicked me hard under the table and my eyes watered with pain at i held my shin, glaring at her. When I blinked the tears away, my eyesight was already back to normal.
"Another point from Gryffindor for your meaningless outburst. Class... dismissed." and Snape swept away. No one had noticed my eyes turning red... no one but Snape. I seen it in his eyes, the shock. I felt a sinking feeling - would he tell someone?
I grabbed my bag and ran out of the room before anyone got out of their chair. Everyone seemed too bewildered at what had happened that they could do nothing else but stare at my back in surprise.
I didn't know where I was going and, frankly, I didn't care. First he said I was a know-it-all and now he was saying I was fame-crazy? How dare he? I was so close to using my hand magic. If Hermione hadn't have kicked me... I shivered with either pleasure or horror as I imagined what could have happened to Snape.
I never noticed I had been crying till it was too late to stop it. I burst into the closest girls' bathroom and opened a random stall. I didn't like crying - because I knew it was useless. It didn't make anything better; sometimes, it even made things worse, something I'd been taught by Aunt Petunia.
I didn't know how long I stood in that bathroom. I heard the door open and close from time to time, each time more girls came in and begged me to tell them what was wrong... but I couldn't. How could I explain? I couldn't say that the real reason I was crying was because I was so close to losing control - something that terrified me more than anything else.
The feeling of losing my grip on sanity... the worst part was the glee I had felt at almost causing someone pain.
I was positive that I missed the meeting with Hagrid and I knew Hermione was looking forward to it. i felt a wave of shame. Here I was crying over something that happened in the past and Hermione was missing out on possibly making a new friend. I took a deep breath. I couldn't let Hermione sit alone at dinner, that would be selfish, I'd just have to suck it up and get over it.
I left my stall, feeling like I was leaving a very safe place. Passing by the mirror, I seen that my eyes were rimmed with red, and that they were puffy. It was obvious that I had been crying. The thought made me want to cry; I didn't want to be known as the Cry-Baby-Potter. I bit my quivering lip at the thought, staring at my crazed-looking reflection.
But something was wrong now.
My red, puffed up eyes were shrinking back to normal. I squinted at my reflection, feeling a tingly sensation around my eyes and watched as everything about my face that showed that I had been sobbing - the paleness, the blotchy cheeks, the chapped lips - turned back to normal. It was the oddest thing; did this often happen? I shook my head in wonder, but when my stomach growled I decided that it would be better to eat.
I left the bathroom and made my way to the Great Hall, my head held high. The news that I'd been crying would have spread through all the first years and maybe most of the second years by now - maybe even around the whole castle considering how well-known I was. I opened one of the doors to the Great Hall and no one noticed me at first while I crept to go sit in my usual spot, but of course I couldnt be that lucky. One person seen me and they told their friends and others eevesdropped and told their friends; the next thing you know, everyone's eyes are on me, all of them in sympathy except the Slytherin's.
I sat next to Hermione and started to eat less then I usually did. There was an awkward silence around my spot as Fred, Goerge, Harry, Ron, and Hermione thought of the best thing to say to me.
"Its okay," Hermione finally said, touching my shoulder tentatively. "It was just a rude comment. I bet he was just having a bad day, or something."
Fred scoffed. "If that were the reason, every day is a bad day to him."
Hermione looked doubtful. She wouldn't be able to believe that a teacher would be so mean to a student for answering a question. To her, teachers could never do wrong; but I knew better. I used to grow up around bullies, both children and adults alike, and I knew that teachers were no exceptions to cruelty. After all, it was the teachers who let Dudley get away with picking on Harry and I, and it was the teachers who chose to ignore the Dursley's obvious neglect to us.
My stomach turned. I had thought that having a different life - a life with magic, a place where I was a hero, even a place where I had once had parents - would change things for the better. But it seemed that not even magic made people good. I thought of my red eyes and sighed; it seemed not even magic could make me good.
"Nixie, it's for you," Harry said, handing me a small roll of parchment.
Dear Nixie,
I heard what happened in potions and I want to talk to you, come to my hut when you're done with your supper. Don't get caught.
Hagrid
I scribbled 'alright' on the back of the note and gave it to Hedwig, who flew off at once.
"Wat did Hagrid say?" Harry asked.
"He wants me to visit him," I said dully, making Harry look a bit concerned.
"You shouldn't listen to Snape, Nixie." Fred said. "He's a git-"
"A prat-" Goerge corrected.
"A bloody grat!" They both said, mixing git and prat together.
I laughed. "You should have said a prit." I told them.
They grinned at me, and George threw an arm over my shoulder. "So, Nixie, we've been thinking."
I adopted a look of surprise. "Since when do you think?"
"Ouch," George said. "You're mean when you're in a good mood."
I smirked. "Go on," I said. "On what occasion has this rare accurence of Weasley-Thinking decided to sneak up?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Fred said. "We should do a prank. All three of us, your's was well thought out and if we put three brilliant minds together! It equals a angry filch!"
I pursed my lips in thought, ignoring Hermione's look of horror. "True," I finally agreed.
On Friday we had flying lessons with the Slytherins. Even the Slytherins couldn't ruin the excitement I had. Yeah, I said I'd be awful, but you never know until you try, right?
At breakfast Neville got a package from his grandmother.
Neville opened it up excitedly and gasped as he took a small glass sphere out of the air. "Its a Remembral!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you forgot to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." his face fell. because the remembral had suddenly glowed scarlette. "You've forgotten something..."
Neville was starting to try to remember what he forgotten but Draco Malfoy, who had been passing by us, plucked the sphere out of his hand. Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, you could tell that they have been wanting a reason to fight Malfoy for a while, but Professor McGonagall - who could spot trouble faster then any teacher - was there in a flash.
"Whats going on?" she asked.
"Malfoy's got my Remembral, Professor." Neville said.
Scowling, Malfoy dropped the Remembral back on the table. "Just looking," he said and sloped back to his friends, Crabbe and Goyle.
At three pm Hermione and I went with the other Gryffindors to the front steps of the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping laws and to a smooth grounds on the opposite side of the grounds of the forbidden forest, who's tree's were swaying dangerously in the wind.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks laying neatly in two rows. Fred and Goerge had told me while we were doing a prank that the school broomsticks didn't like it when you went high and started to vibrate or flew slightly to the left.
Our teacher, Madame Hooch, arrived. She had short grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she said. "Pick a broomstick, come on, hurry up!"
My broom was almost smooth, but some twigs stood out in odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand, over your broom." she said."and say, UP!"
"Up!" Everyone shouted. My broom flew up in my hand immediatly, and so did Harry's. Poor Hermione's had rolled over on the grass. Neville's hadn't moved at all.
Madame Hooch showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting our grips.
I burst out laughing when she told Malfoy that he had been doing it wrong for years and he glared at me furiously.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground, hard," she said seriously. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning foreward slightly. on my whistle - three - two - " but neville, nervous and jusmpy, and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before Madame Hooch's wistle touched her lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was shooting straight up like a cork out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. I saw his scared white face looked down at the ground flying away, I saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -WHAM- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facefirst on the grass in a heap. His broomstick rose higher and higher and then it started to lazily go to the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madame Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," I heard her mutter and Hermione gasped. "Come on, boy - its alright."
Hermione and I watched in sympathy as he whimpered from the pain. I couldnt imagine how much pain that would be, I never had something broken before.
Little did I know that the second Madame Hooch dissappeared, I was in for a change of my life.