Dawn Rivera

The Potions Master

Professor McGonagall is different. I have been quite right she isn't the teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gives us a talking-to the moment we sit down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous and complex magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she says. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changes her desk into a pig then back again. We are all very impressed and can't wait to get started, but soon realise we aren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we are each given a match and start trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and me have done anything to our matches; Professor McGonagall shows the class how they have gone all silver and pointy and gives Hermione and me a rare smile.

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Potions lessons take place down in one of the dungeons. It is colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, starts the class by taking the rollcall, and like Flitwick, he pauses at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he says softly. "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle snicker behind their hands. Snape finishes calling the names and looks up at the class. His eyes are black like Hagrid's, but they have none of Hagrid's warmth. They are cold and empty and make you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he begins. He speaks in barely more than a whisper, but we catch every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape has the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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 human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence follows his little speech. I see Harry and Ron exchange looks with raised eyebrows. Me and Hermione are on the edge of our seats, desperate to prove that we're not dunderheads.

"Potter!" says Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glances at Ron, who looks as stumped as he does; mine and Hermione's hands shoot into the air.

"I don't know, Sir," says Harry.

Snape's lips curl into a sneer.

"Tut tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignores mine and Hermione's hands.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if you told me to find a bezoar?"

Hermione and me stretch our hands as high in the air as they can go without leaving our seats, but Harry looks like he doesn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar is. I can see him trying not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who are shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, Sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" I can see Harry is forcing himself to look straight into those cold eyes. Did Snape really expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? I don't even remember some of them.

Snape is still ignoring mine and Hermione's quivering hands.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, me and Hermione stand up, our hands stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," says Harry queitly. "I think Hermione and Dawn do, though, why don't you try them?"

A few people laugh; I catch Seamus' eye, and he winks, making me blush. Snape, however, is not pleased.

"Sit down," he snaps at me and Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?

There is a sudden rummage for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape says, "And one point will be taken from Gryfffindor house for your cheek, Potter."

Things don't improve for us Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continues. Snape puts us all into pairs and sets us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He sweeps around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seems to like. He just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy has stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing fills the dungeon. Neville has somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion is seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class is standing on their stools while Neville, who was drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moans in pain as angry red boils spring up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarls Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpers as boils start to pop up all over his nose. I look at him worriedly. We're not dating, but I still like him.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spits at Seamus. Then he rounds on Harry and Ron, who have 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? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This is so unfair that Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Ron kicks him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," I hear him mutter. "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

At the end of class, Seamus approaches me and I smile at him, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Hi, Dawn. My name's Seamus," he introduces himself.

I giggle. "I know who you are."

He smile grows wider. "You're cute when you giggle." This, of course, makes me giggle even more.

"Thank you," I say shyly, looking into his eyes.

"So - er - would you like to walk with me down to the lake?" he asks.

I giggle, again. "What about next lesson?"

Seamus looks at me sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. Right. Um...Break?"

"Sorry, Seamus. I told Neville I'd meet him at the library. Maybe some other time?"

"Yeah...yeah, sure," Seamus looks disappointed, but immediately brightens again when I pull him into a hug.

On the way to next lesson, Hermione catches up to me.

"Lavender was right. Asked out twice in your first week."

I blush.

"Have fun on your date, Diggory."

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So here's the question of the chapter:

Dudley or Lily Potter?