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The first week passed pretty smoothly, so to speak. Will and I became firm friends, sitting together in every lesson and taking the mick out of Harry and Ron. We all became best friends very quickly.The first hiccup was in the first potions lesson with Professor Snape.
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"They say Snape always favours the Slytherins," Ron said one lunch, picking at his fingernails. "This afternoon we'll be able to see if it's true."
Will had come out of his shell a lot in the few days we'd been spending time together. "You're so Gryffindor, Ron," he retorted. "I bet he'll hate you most."
"Oi!" Ron argued back. "You're Gryffindor too, Spencer." He knew that Will hated being called by his last name. Harry slapped him before Will managed to. "Shut up, you," he said. "Let's go and actually see rather than bickering for the rest of your lives."
We all agreed, and headed to Snape's potions classroom in the dungeons. We soon found out the rumour Ron had heard was true.
When Professor Snape arrived, he came swooping into the classroom like an overgrown bat.
The Slytherins all sat together in the back corner, sniggering at something. Snape started to take the register, and everything was fine until he came to Harry's name. "Ah, the Potters," he said softly. "Our new celebrities."
Malfoy and his cronies laughed.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape said to Harry. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione Granger's hand shot up like a cork out of a bottle. "I don't know, sir," Harry said, and the Slytherins laughed. Snape turned to me. "Where exactly might I find a beozar?"
Aha! I knew the answer. So screw you, you overgrown bat! "In the stomach of a goat, sir," I said, and the Slytherin's smiles dropped.
Snape put his steely gaze back on Harry. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Harry looked worried, and I didn't blame him. Hermione's hand was waving about like a flag in a gale. "I don't know, sir," he said. "I think Hermione does, why don't you ask her?"
This was a big mistake. "Clearly, fame isn't everything," Snape said, dangerously softly. "Five points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter."
He returned his attention to the rest of the class. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Hermione looked disappointed. She clearly didn't like being thought of as a dunderhead.
Snape set us all instructions on how to brew a basic potion to cure boils. Unfortunately for Neville Longbottom, the boy who lost his toad, it didn't go to plan.
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